The rack cracks and there’s a panic on the table. An angry, rainbow blur of numerals flies every which way, searching for holes. The action slows, then stiffens. Peace is restored.
But the game is on. …
“Like Genghis Khan on an iron horse, a monster steed with a fiery anus, flat out through the eye of a beer can and up your daughter’s leg with no quarter asked and none given…”
—Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels: …