A Fist Full of Trump  I'm at a table playing cards with my siblings Wally, Heather, and Ramona and my uncle Rusty Redding. The game we play takes five cards. It's a relative mellow game: not lively. I suggest we play a game of hearts or double-deck feffer. Everyone aggress; we'll play hearts. We're under a car bridge next to a river with gravely, rocky, granite banks. Everyone has his or her hand of cards. I'm across a small channel, about 12 feet wide, from the others. I play a card, flicking it across the channel like a Frisbee. I ask if the cards are wax coated, because the card lands in the water next to the bank. They are wax coated. We play the game. I have no clubs, a good diamond and hearts hand, and four spades, some of which are high. I play cards, not realizing at first that hearts are trump. I try to bring out the joker because I know that some of the others are short-suited in red and I want my face cards to be good for tricks. I think the only way that one can beat them is to trump them with the joker. At one point I realize hearts are trump. I immediately reconsider because I see in my hand that I still have the joker and the jack, nine, six, five, and three of hearts! I must have had a lot of hearts to begin with! Rusty throws in his cards, indicating he thinks he'll take them all. I say wait!, I've got a fist full of trump! He and I are partners. He takes up his hand and we'll finish the game.