Mitch was down a thousand dollars. He was ready to just walk out. But the stern eyes of the Sheriff glued him to his seat. He was sure the deck was stacked against him.

“What’cha got boy?” the Sheriff sneered, he took a swig of his brandy.
“A pair of threes.” He laid his hand faceup. “I think I’m done Sheriff, you certainly know your game!”
“Naw, you sit, boy.” Flattery wasn’t going to get him out. “One year of diapers is what this is. Your bastard child better potty train real fast.” He added my chips to his large pile.
“Sir, I’m sure any child of mine will be cared for.”
“Is that so? I bet you ain’t never worked a day in your life.” He leaned back, puffed out his chest. “I think you oughta take some responsibility. Get a job. Pay off your debts.”
“Debts?”
“Deal him in.” The Sheriff happily let his brandy sit. He had a good hand.

An hour later, Mitch was down ten thousand dollars. The Sheriff took his Rolex, his clothes, his shoes, and told him he still owed 8 thousand and his Daddy had better not help.