The Pool Shark (by Luke Vinten)The only time I ever met a pool shark was in a pub behind Waterloo Station, on a sweltering July afternoon. I was sitting by the pool table when a man approached me. He was very smart, with a bright red shirt, shiny black shoes, and neatly-clipped hair.
'Do you want to play pool for a fiver?' he said, and I saw at once what he was. I told him that I didn't play, which was more or less true.
He went away. But soon his challenge was accepted by another bloke, a sporty type in a tracksuit. They set up the balls and began. I watched with interest.
The man in the red shirt was very good and very cocky. But he also missed some easy shots, eventually letting his opponent win the game and the fiver.
They agreed to play again. The pool shark went to fetch the triangle.
As he passed my table, he gave me a big wink.
I thought, 'Aha!'
The second game was identical to the first, a close match until Mr Tracksuit pulled ahead at the last moment.
Again the pool shark winked at me. By now I was gripped.
They played a third game. My friend lost again. His opponent took the money and left.
The man in the red shirt sat down alone at a table. I went up to him.
'So... what was all that about?' I asked.
'Bastard was better than me,' he said.
[The short short story comp is announced and explained here.]