Anaideia 36

I hitchhiked towards I-80 where Old Jim was holed up in a Motel 6. A cabbie picked me up and I climbed into the front seat where the driver tore me a new one. “Are you some sort of dumbass?” he shouted. “Don’t you know how dangerous hitchhiking is? I should beat the hell out you for being a moron!”

“Look brother,” I retorted, “I’ve been hitchhiking all my life and I’ve only been stabbed twice. Furthermore, I am armed with a Colt Python and a crisp $20 bill. So would you like the 20 bucks or a wadcutter to the belly?”

The cabbie shut his trap and put the vehicle in drive and we journeyed towards the interstate in cordial silence. When I arrived, I climbed out the passenger door while the petrified driver was itching to say something. When he did, he asked if he could have the $20.

“I see that the fare came to $19.98,” I said. “Do you have two pennies?”

The cabbie swallowed hard before reaching into his wallet to dig for two golden pieces of useless copper. He found plenty of quarters, dimes, nickels, and Iraqi dinars but only one penny. He held the lone coin silently while sensing his doom.

“I’ll tell you what bucko,” said I, “how about I shut this door and you go about your merry way?”

I took the cabbie’s non-response as an agreement so I closed the door and the cab slowly rolled out of the parking lot. It was another successful hitchhike.

Inside the motel room, I found Jim siting alone in his longjohns with a spit cup and playing solitaire. He left the air conditioning off which under the Nevada heat made the room unbearable. I sat the plastic bag of goods I bought on the dresser; some Rogaine, razors and shaving cream.

“How have you been holding up Jim?” I ask him.

Jim picks up his styrofoam spit cup and spits out a wad of long cut tobacco. “About as well as you could expect,” he said. “Where have you boys been?”

“Dale’s been killing it on the tables. I don’t know why but luck has blessed us here. We stayed in a suite last night.”

“A suite? Well Ain’t that somthin’” he said, spittin another wad.

“Look, I’m gonna need you to shave and dye your hair. We’re going undercover.”

“Shave? Dye?”

“Yes. That’s what all this shit here is for.”

His dead grey eyes hinted at a lack of comprehension. Perhaps being left alone in motel room for days on end resurrected his dementia so I folded on my demand. “You know what, nevermind,” I said. “Is there anything you can tell me about Joelle? Something we’ve never discussed?”

“Joelle?” he asked.

“Yes. The Madam.”

“Oh she’s a darlin’. How’s she doin these days?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet.”

“What’s she been up to?”

“Apparently pimping out whores again.”

Jim chuckled. “That madam, she’s a character.”

“What’s her relationship with Randy like?”

“Randy?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I mumbled under my breath. “Anyway, I’m gonna go see her soon”.

“What fur?”

I paused and thought. “I guess the day of judgement comes for all of us,” I said.

“Mmm,” said Jim, spitting again. “You know, I’ve been thinking about my own judgment. I suppose I should be thanking the lord for blessing me with a long life. I’ve watched so many of my friends die. They were good men. And they were evil men too. I think about them a lot. I suppose that’s all I do nowadays. But then I think, maybe there is no god. Why must my brother die of cholera at six years old while I, a man who slayed another for a pack of cigarettes, gets to live a long life? Then I think maybe my brother is the blessed one and that hell lies not below our feet but lasts as long as we breathe. Funny things a man thinks in his old age.”

That night, I made Old Jim stay with us in the suite.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 35

The next morning, I watched the prostitute climb out of bed and put on her black brazier and panties and I laid in bed naked as she lowered her shirt and grabbed her belongings. “Can I know your name?” I ask her.

“No,” she said.

“Well, what if I want to get in touch with your services again?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a white business card. “Just call this number,” she told me.

Without looking at it, I placed it on the nightstand and crawled out of bed to put on my underwear. “So what do I owe you?” I ask.

“$15,000,” she said.

“Jesus Christ!” I shouted out loud. Strangely, that was the exact amount that the Dr. Phil slot machine spat out the night before. So I handed her $15,000 all in 20 dollar bills and she was on her way.

“Can I at least get you a drink?” I ask her on the way out.

“Fuck no.”

And she closed the door behind her.

Meanwhile, Dale came cackling out of his bedroom door with two other sex workers. I stood in the foyer in only my underwear while that gaggle proceeded to the kitchen while grabbing each other’s asses and I scratched my ass and followed them in there. “Dale, it seems like you had a pretty good night,” I said.

“You’re damn right I did!” he said while pouring champagne into everyone’s glass. “Didn’t you?”

“Yeah well, ya know. I think I had the whiskey dick. $15,000 down the toilet.”

“Ah man, that sucks. Well anyway, this is Danica and Delilah,” Dale said, referring to the two women as they both gave me a flirty wave. “Ladies, I have enjoyed your company but it’s time to bid you adieu.”

The ladies sighed and Dale shoved numerous $50 bills into their bras and sent them on their way. He put on his silk robe and joined me in gaudy living room where the bright Reno skyline shown through the window. He poured himself more champagne then sat down on the couch where he briefly flashed his nutsack before crossing his legs. “All we have to do is maintain this level of luck and we’ll have Randy’s attention in no time! Easy as pie,” he said.

“Yeah,” I shrugged.

“Don’t feel so down,” he told me. “You’ll have your revenge. Maybe we need to call some more hookers tonight to cheer you up! Just don’t drink so much today.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” I tried to convince myself. “More hookers! That’s the ticket!”

I go to the bedroom to retrieve the business card. Before I could hand it to Dale, I catch a glimpse of a name: “For a good time, contact Joelle” it said on the card.

“Fuck,” I uttered.

“What?” asked Dale with his hand out waiting to receive the card.

“Does a name on here ring a bell?”

Dale took the card and tried to make sense of it. “No?” he said.

“Joelle was the name of the madam at the Candyland brothel!”

“And?”

“And? Are you stupid? This might be the same Joelle!”

“Does it have an address on it?”

“Only a PO Box.”

“Should we stake it out?”

“We’ve got to!”

Dale finished his champagne and scratched his nipple. Then a look of consternation fell over his face. “What do we do if we catch her?” he asks.

I hadn’t thought of that so I rubbed my chin and considered our options. “Well, I guess we corner her and question her,” I said.

“I dunno,” Dale said. “I say we tail her and follow her around a bit. We gotta know what we’re getting ourselves into.”

I agreed. “Then we need to find disguises,” I suggested. “We should have done that anyway before we came into town.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dale said. “I’ll go put some pants on.”

“You do that,” I said. “I’m gonna go check on Old Jim.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Anaideia 34

In these dying days I sat staring at the loud floral carpet on the casino floor which concealed ages of cigarette stains and dried up vomit while the jolly jingles of slot machines and video poker provided a hallowed sense of revelry. Reno was a dime store conception of a good time. I thought my return to civilization after months in the wilderness and endless days in a desolate brothel would restore my joviality and lust for life. Instead it brought forth blitheness and disdain.

Perhaps it was the hidden presence of Randy who remained as a shadow in the streets which ceaselessly haunted me. Somehow I felt that he knew we were here. I wondered what I could say to the man who was the architect of my nightmare.

I dropped a quarter into the slot. The wheels on the “Dr. Phil” machine spun and landed on three mustaches in a row. An endless amount of silver coins spat out into the troth and the voice of Dr. Phil announced in his Texas draw “Congratulations! You won a lot of money! But you’re playing a slot machine in Reno, Nevada. It’s time to make a change in your life!”

Maybe this was a good omen, I told myself. I collect the coins and stop a barmaid. “Excuse me miss,” I say, “I’d like a rum and coke, a tequila, and a Bloody Mary please.” Then I drop a wad of 50s on her tray.

“Your drinks are already paid for sir,” she said.

“By whom?” I ask.

“By that gentleman over there.”

She points to Dale, decked out in a Tom Ford suit and stogie in his mouth, at the blackjack table. I should have known, I thought. The barmaid brought me the drinks and I immediately swallow the tequila and rum and coke and then I stumbled over to the table and take a seat next to Dale.

The croupier drops two kings in front of Dale and he laughs while cigar ash drops on his lap. “Hit me!” he says.

“Dale, you’re fucking insane,” I tell him.

“Yeah but look at all these chips!” he says. Indeed he had thousands of dollars worth of chips stacked on the table.

“But you pushed them all in you idiot!”

The dealer tossed him another card and he flipped it over. To my astonishment it was an ace. “Goddamn I’m unstoppable!” Dale declared. He doubled his earnings and hauled all his chips towards him. “Daddy’s eatin’ good tonight!” he cheers.

We cash out then waltz on over to the casino buffet. I get a bowl of ice cream and Dale slops heaps of mashed potatoes, chicken, and green beans onto multiple plates. We take a seat near the slots and Dale digs in. “You were fucking careless on that last hand!” I tell him.

Dale looks up from his plate. “What? You think I’m stupid?” he asks.

“Frankly, yes.”

He picks up his fork and points up to the ceiling. “Look up there,” he says. I look up and see hundreds if not thousands of cameras pointing down. “See those cameras?” he continues. “They see everything we do. I don’t know how much money I won tonight but it’s damn sure more than what I walked in here with. And the house knows that. At this very second, this establishment is losing money on me and they can’t permit that. Perhaps word will spread about me. Every casino will be looking out for us, which might, god willing, get the attention of Randy. Since we can’t go to Randy, we’ll make Randy come to us. Right now, I suspect management is trying to figure out a way to keep my money in the casino. So in a few minutes, they’ll probably approach us with their finest suite.”

I scratched my head. “So you think that’ll get the attention of Randy?”

“Of course!” he said while shoveling another heap of green beans in his mouth. “If there’s one thing I know is that all these gangster types are in with the casinos.”

“But what if we start losing money?”

“Well, we just have to make sure we never lose to the house,” he shrugged.

I raised one eyebrow.

But minutes later, Dale’s calculations were proven correct. A gaunt fellow with slick backed hair and a bright blue blazer approached our table with a smile and a handshake. “Congratulations gentleman,” he told us, “you two have had a remarkable night at our casino. As a compliment, we would like to welcome you to our hotel as esteemed guests. Our finest suite awaits you with champagne and all the usual refinements.”

Dale looked at me with a victorious expression and we got up from our table and followed the man into the hotel lobby where a porter escorted us to our top floor suite. The porter unlocked the door and we were greeted with all the garishness and extravagance that Reno had to offer. Dale was in awe as he looked around the room and then he looked at me with arms wide open. “What did I tell you? What did I tell you?!” he beamed.

“Is there anything else I can get you gentlemen?” the porter asked.

“Yes. Two whores please,” said Dale.

I looked at the porter wondering if such a request could be granted. Then the porter looked at me. “And for you sir?” he asks.

“Uh, I too would like two whores,” I responded.

The porter nodded. “Four whores coming right up,” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Ranking the 50 States (the good states)

Like I said, every state has a part of it that I absolutely HATE. But if you’re living in one of these places (except for the bottom two) life is probably pretty good.

19. Kentucky

You either get the Bluegrass State or you don’t. Most claim it to be a southern state. Some say otherwise. But I like that ambiguity. It gives the COMMONWEALTH its own distinct flavor.

18. Missouri

To me, Missouri is decidedly and unambiguously NOT a southern state as much as it desires to be. But that’s neither here nor there. KC is legit. Other than the Ozarks on the southern portion, there might not be much else there. But at least they got KC.

17. Georgia

Atlanta is another legit city. Probably the best in the south. While it might be the Confederate Flag capital of the US, if you can ignore all of that, it’s actually a really charming place.

16. New Mexico

This is actually another state I’d like to rank higher. But other than Albuquerque, Taos, and Santa Fe (or Roswell if you’re a weirdo), there’s a whole lot of NOTHING occupying this place.

15. Minnesota

I feel like I’ve already mentioned this state, but whatever. It’s quietly one of the prettiest places. The only knock against it is that it contains Minnesota Vikings fans and it gets really fucking cold.

14. Maine

People are a little odd, but other than that, it’s pretty ace. Marylanders like to brag about their lobsters and crabs or whatever, but they ain’t shit compared to Maine.

13. New York

Cities along the western edge are a little iffy. But the rest of the state could be a nuclear wasteland and it would still rank this high thanks to NYC.

12. Nevada

Now Nevada IS mostly a nuclear wasteland, but I rank it above NY because…between Las Vegas and Reno, with all its cheap glitz, glam, and shattered dreams…it seems like I’d fit in much better there.

11. Tennessee

Sure the cost of living has skyrocketed, but make no mistake: whatever you’re looking for, you’ll find it in Tennessee. Now Nashville likes to consider itself a “party town” on par with Las Vegas, New Orleans, and Miami…and it’s DEFINITELY not that. Nevertheless it’s a pretty solid town. Sure it’s a little rough around the edges, but give it a few years and Tennessee will probably be a top 10 state.

phoning it in again

So I was in the bathroom at the bus station when an employee banged on the door.

“Hey buddy,” I said. “Do you mind? I’m trying to beat off!”

“Sorry sir,” the employee replied. “But I have a message here from your mother.”

So I opened the door with my pants around my ankles. The message read:

Dear son,

Please don’t come home for Christmas. Your cousin Megan is here and she told me some troubling things about you.

Love,

Your Mom

So I pulled up my pants and went to the front counter.

“Can’t take your ticket back, sir. All sales are final,” the employee said.

I turned around and the janitor was harassing a homeless woman, accusing her of clogging the toilet.

“That was me sir,” I told the janitor. “I blew up the toilet in the women’s bathroom.”

“You have one cursed ass sir,” he replied.

The woman walked up to me. “Thank you for taking the blame,” she said. “I just wish that they’d give me a ticket so I could get out of this godforsaken place.”

I handed her my ticket. “Merry Christmas,” I said. “Today’s your lucky day.”

“Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I don’t want to go to Reno, Nevada.”