Cheating is For Winners

You see, I began my career a few years back, when I was spending some quality time with Brucey B, my mentor. He decided to take me to a real game. I was too little to be in the Carrotberry Club, but old enough to dream of it. Now the place was pretty seedy, but at the time I was thrilled. All the big shots played there, and Brucey knew everyone, so we got into the VIP room. I won game after game that day. I played against Toby Twinkletoes and Jo Jo the Lip. It was an amazing case of Beginners Luck, as Mr. Funnyshoes called it.

That day right there, that was the day that completely ruined my life. I had gained so much confidence, so much pride. Playing and winning like that made me untouchable, superior. With those kinds of wins, who needed Brucey’s guidance anymore? I was ready to dominate the Cheat charts.

And so I left him. I began playing pro, against the same Spectre and Branston that I had read so eagerly about in What, Me Cheat? and Cheat in Style. I was sure I would crush them so deep down into Neopia that they would come out in Maraqua. Boy, was I wrong.

I was the one being crushed in almost every game. I recall one where I almost won. The game was almost over, I had a pair of 2s and a queen. Chuffer Bob had just been called for cheating by Kalora. Fernypoo was right before me, and she decided to play a six. A six! Well, I had pondered, I could cheat. It was the name of the game, right? Kalora was the only one ahead of me, with two cards remaining. My mind had been racing, if I didn’t win, she surely would. Finally, I had thrown all three cards in the middle, saying “Three 2s.” I'd winced internally, waiting for the screaming of cheat. It didn’t come. It came to me in a rush; I’d felt so excited. “I’ve won!” I screamed. I remember how Fernypoo had laughed. “No, you didn’t. You still have a card there. Look.” She pointed to a lone card. And that was when I knew. I knew I would never be any better than the lowest of card players.

My self esteem was crushed; I had been left with nothing. At one time I could have become a teacher, or a technician or a telemarketer. Now, though, I was in so much debt that I work as a thief. My credit and reputation were too bad for even the craziest of entrepreneurs to consider me.

It really could affect a person. Always being the lowest down, the rookie. I mean, I was the guy who you would beat round after round, laughing all the way. “So easy,” they would all say. “He is so easy to beat.” I mean, come on. Couldn’t you at least pretend it was a tough game? Or lose once in a while? Wasn’t like anyone I played needed the money anyways. Everyone coming in with their pretty old Maraquan Draiks with 1150 strength, and all. But no, nada pity for the poor basic blue Tuskaninny.

And, there are absolutely no benefits to being worst. You should see my description. Have you seen it? Well, this is what it says. “Timmy is very young and inexperienced. He started playing cheat as he thought it would make him look cool... however, he is pretty useless at it, to be honest.” Well, really. Maybe it is true, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Humph, useless, my tail. And I’m always being ordered around. It's always just, “Hey, Little Timmy, get me a can of neocola, won’t ya?” or “Well, look if it isn’t Little Timmy. I could use a chia pop right now, I really could.” Always I have wanted to just go off. To scream at them. “NO! No, I will certainly NOT get you a neocola. Don’t you think I have better things to do?? You are all filthy rich, so hire someone or something!!” Well, I’m not very good at the whole yelling thing yet. But you get better at things after awhile, right? Wrong. It was a trick question. I’ve been playing Cheat for years, and I still lose every single game. Or almost every game, thanks to Capara.

It was a good day in my life when Capara came along. She was the only player worse than my sorry self. Once she joined, I wasn’t at the bottom and I wasn’t the worst. She was the one getting the neocolas. Well, if you asked nice. And paid her in beauty products. And told her how stunning she looked when she used the vending machine. Overall, she was pretty cool.

So, true, I still play Cheat, and true, I’m still pretty bad at it. If you have time, you could pick up my book. Little Timmys Story. Not a tip book, like Branston’s, but a real story. Who would buy tips from me anyways? Aside from that, you really should get a copy. It isn’t selling well at the moment, not like Capara’s is... but still, if you all got a copy and told your friends... that would be great! Really, really great. It's only... you know... it's pretty cheap. *twitches*

Well, I think I’ve reached the end of my article. I was actually writing this to earn some pocket money, until I learned all I get is some fancy trophy. I’ve never had a trophy before, being useless at everything and all. I’m sort of looking forward to it. If you have any questions, you can find me in the arcade. I won’t even be angry with you if you beat me. I’m just “cool” like that.