Jack of Diamonds

Hey guys, it’s me, the Jack of Diamonds.

I know it isn’t customary for your average playing card to speak up, but it’s time. I’m tired of getting overlooked by those other fancy face cards and your aces and whatnot. Seriously, if you guys knew what a total a-holes the jokers are, there’s no way you’d be excited to draw them. I feel like saying, “Hey jerks, I’m still a jack! In the medieval hierarchy, I’m like a duke or something!”

Sometimes it sucks to be the Jack of Diamonds. Look at me. Do I look happy to you? No, I look like some effemenate dude in an awful jacket who spent too long brushing my hair. Anyone suppose I’m a happy Jack when I look in the mirror? Anyone care to guess how many times I’ve contemplated plunging this ceremonial sword into my guts?

I suppose I’ve said my part now. I’ll go back to being quiet, unappreciated Jack of Diamonds. I don’t care if nobody gives a crap about me. I’ll show them all what they missed out on. Someday they’ll be sorry they ignored me. I’ll get a hot girlfriend and grow a beard to cover my weak chin and drive a Ford Contour.

Then everyone will say, “Hey, when did the Jack of Diamonds get so cool? I’m going to invent a game where whoever draws the Jack of Diamonds immediately wins.” Then I’ll be happy and my hot girlfriend will agree to wear Princes Leia’s metal bikini from Return of the Jedi.

So here’s your last chance, America. It’s your last chance to buy stock in the Jack of Diamonds before I become awesome and everyboy loves me. If you don’t, you’ll be sorry.