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Pool Hall Hustler

            Smoke filled the room as I walked around the green felt. My right eye shut tight as my left eye squinted to a narrow slit in a last minute attempt to line up my shot. Sweat forming on my scalp as the body heat radiating from my head was trapped with my white UCLA baseball cap. I felt nervous. This was the most important shot of the game. I had to sink the eight ball. I looked down the narrow sight line at the white cue ball and then the shiny black marble like material that seemed to be moving in all directions, yet going nowhere. I noticed my hands shaking as if they .
             were about to have a seizure all their own. I closed my eyes and stood straight up in order to calm myself down. I walked over to the table where two ladies were sitting watching the game. The one on the left offered me a drag of her cigarette to calm my nerves. I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, forming a cloud of smoke under the lantern hanging over the table. The smoke filled light made the bar look eerie as if this was all a dream. I puts my clammy hands together, crossing all .
             of my fingers and pushed out and then in. Everyone in the bar could hear the cracking sound of my tense knuckles. I walked back over to the green felt that had become my worst nightmare. The 300 dollars I had already lost kept running through my brain, repeating like an insane man singing the same song over and over. I shook my head to release it of the sound and focused on the shot that could determine if I would eat that coming week. I powered my hands and chalked .
             up my pool stick for the last time. Leaning down and lining up my shot, my eye all of the sudden became a sniper rifle as I looked again. There was a thin red line starting at the blue chalked covered tip of my slightly askew pool stick all the way down to the cue and then a second red line connected the cue ball to the top loop of the eight. It looked like a target with majority of the ball covered with black, then a white small circle that encircled the black eight, and within the eight were two white circles.


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There was a pool hall in the ghetto that Malcolm frequented. At the pool hall, he met a guy named Shorty. ... When one of his scams didn"t go as planned he had an altercation with another hustler. The hustler told Malcolm he was going to kill him. ...

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While he was exploring the city he met a man named Shorty, who was also from Lansing, in a pool hall. Shorty got Malcolm got his first job, as shoe shiner at a dance hall in Boston. ... That is where his life as a hustler began, and it went on for many years. ...

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