A professional gambler wins big and dies of an aneurysm. When he gets to the afterlife, he finds himself at the back of a miles-long line to get into Heaven. Drawing on his experience, the gambler immediately thinks of a way to get ahead of everyone else. He taps the old man ahead of him on the shoulder.
“Want to make a bet while we wait?” the gambler asks. “If I can guess your last words in three tries, you have to let me cut ahead of you.”

The old man, having nothing better to do, agrees. Immediately, the gambler begins “reading” him like the pro player he is. He notices the elderly Asian man’s shirt is open, exposing a pair of defibrillator marks. “Don’t be silly, it’s just indigestion,” the gambler remarks. The old man looks a bit surprised, then steps aside, giving up his place in line.

Next, the gambler taps on a redneck’s shoulder. He makes the same bet, and the redneck also accepts. “This one’s easy!” the gambler smirks, sizing up the bruised, bloody, grass-stained redneck with the caved-in skull. “Hold my beer!” Muttering profanities, the redneck begrudgingly steps aside and gives up his place in line.

Riding the high of a hot streak, the gambler wastes no time tapping the next man ahead of him on the shoulder. He quickly makes the same bet and is ecstatic when the agreement is made. “Okay, let’s see…” The gambler studies the new mark carefully. He’s a large, imposing black man riddled with several bullet holes.

The gambler holds his hand out like a gun. “You ain’t taking me alive!” The man shakes his head. Wrong. The gambler strokes his chin. The guy is giving him nothing else to work with. The gambler holds the ‘gun’ sideways, makes a mean face, and shouts, “Fuck the police!” Wrong again. The gambler’s getting frustrated now. He’s never been unable to read someone before.

Finally, the gambler throws his hands in the air. “I’VE GOT NOTHING!” he shouts. “I GIVE UP!”

The man steps aside.

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