5 Mistakes....

Now that I’m in police custody, and I have time to think about it, it was not the pinnacle of wisdom to drive to Vegas, but it did seem like a great idea at the time. Obviously, I couldn’t know how it would end, but I did not think that I would end up in my underwear, handcuffed to a bench in a police stationhouse, with a mob contract on my head. I’m sure hoping that “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas”, is true, because baby, I need a whole lotta shit to stay in Vegas. The way I see it, I made five mistakes.

  Let me start at the beginning. My wife and my two kids went to visit their Grandmother. My Mother-In-Law does not like me (she’s a very perceptive woman), so I was not invited. Fine by me, I would stay home and catch the “Walker, Texas Ranger” marathon on the USA Network. I sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV, to commence a lazy afternoon of watching the asskickings. Then, the phone rang. I answered it. (Mistake #1) It was my friend, Reb (we called him that because he resembled Jefferson Davis). He was in Vegas, and he wanted me to come get him. I said I would. (Mistake #2).

   Vegas was only about a two hour drive from where I was, so I go there before nightfall. I found Reb sitting outside the MGM Grand, and he got in the car.

    “ ‘sup, Jimbo ?”

   “ Nothin’, Reb. How are you?”

  “Jimbo, I have had better days, I will tell you that.”

   “I would hope so,” I said, and merged back into traffic.

    “Can I ask you a favor, Jimbo ?”

     “On top of me driving all the way to Vegas to pick you up?”

      “It’s just an itty bitty one,” he said, and began to rub my shoulder.

       “Fine (Mistake # 3), just don’t touch me anymore. I don’t know where you have been.”

     What he wanted me to do was drive him over to this dumpy little casino way,way,waaay off of the strip named MERV’S Vegas-O-Rama. I shit you not, that is the name of the place. I thought for a second we were extras in Vegas Vacation.

  Apparently, in the basement of MERV’S, a magical event takes place. It was something that Reb had always dreamed of seeing, and who was I to shatter a man’s dream? What is the event, you ask? Why Merv’s is one of the three places in the whole world where one could witness, AND wager on, a monkey knife fight.

   We entered Merv’s and I sat down at a Black Jack table. The dealer was a lovely young lady by the name of Cindra, and I quickly lost five straight games to her. This favor was becoming more expensive all the time. I was tempted to grab Reb and drive on home, back to the relative safety of our gated community, but I didn’t (mistake # 4).

  I did go looking for Reb, and finally found him involved in a high stakes poker game with five fat, coke sniffing ladies. I declined their invitation to join, and went outside for a smoke. Reb promised to come get me for the fight.

   Magic, a hostess from MERV’S was on a break as well, and we struck up a conversation. It turned out that she was only hostessing until she could realize her dream of being a marine biologist. She said she really “…digs fishes.” I wished her well, and went back inside.

  I bet a thousand dollars on a monkey named Furious George(an obvious nod to the Simpsons-how could I not bet on him?), and then I went back to Reb’s game and asked him how he was doing. He said that he was down a couple of hundred.

   “200 bucks ? That’s not too bad.”

  One of the coked up ladies started cackling, “Try two hundred THOUSAND, there sweetcheeks!” and then she grabbed my ass.

  I leaned down and whispered in Reb’s ear: “Are you fucking nuts!!?!?!?”

   “Don’t worry, I have a plan.” And then he overturned the table and yelled “RUN” As we left the casino, I could hear one of the ladies yelling that her husband was Paulie Cinzano(well known mob boss), and  that we were dead.

  We hit the street and got in the car. We tore outta there. We finally stopped in an alley. Reb decided that it would be a good idea for us to change clothes (mistake # 5), and like in the movies, there just happened to be a clothes line in the alley. We grabbed some clothes and started to change.

   Reb dressed much faster than I, so when the cops hit their siren, he was already dressed and hopped in the car and drove off, leaving me in the alley in my underwear.

  And that’s where you came in. I didn’t get to see the monkey knife fight. I don’t know if Furious George won the fight, or if he was beaten by Bonzo the Destroyer. I may never know…And I think that’s what hurts most of all.

   
 -February,2007.