The Losers Guide to God at the Slot Machines

So, when I got to Las Vegas one of the first things I did was run up to my hotel suite and drop my first load. My toilet reading material was an in-house magazine for the place, which gave me a bit of a history lesson and provided me with factoids such as: there are 4,000 rooms in the joint. My mind quickly went into action on the number 4,000 pondering not only how much money the hotel was raking in off of each suite, but also wondering how many people at any given moment, building-wide, were having sex. Surely there is a way a casino/ hotel could harness the energy from the sex to power the neon lights or something. Now, like dominos falling in an intricate pattern, my thoughts went from the sex, to the lights, to the casino, to the people gambling in the casino, and then to Bill Cosby. Yes, Bill Cosby. I once owned a Cosby comedy tape in which he rambled on about such things as Froofie the Dog and had one skit in which he made fun of all of the people who gamble and how they promise things to God if only he will bring them some luck. How many people are having sex? How many people are downstairs praying to God? How many "oh God's" building-wide? I decided I had to go down into the casino and witness/ testify firsthand; having chosen the casino and gambling due to the possible legal hassles involved with busting into hotel rooms to check for people having sex.

The casino reeked of cigar smoke and queer incense. Each casino on the Vegas Strip has its own vibe and smell, but all pretty much have the same options when it comes to slot machines. Forget the tables, I was going to where the real action was. The same publication I was reading moments earlier stated that 65% of all people in the casino played the slots. Likewise it stated that via Nevada law the slots had to payout at least 75% of the time. I forgot about my curiosity and inquiries at this point, I was just ready to jump in and start giving hand jobs out to the one armed bandits.

A day and five hundred bucks later I was sitting at a Wheel Of Fortune themed slot machine betting my last pennies. Actually it was a quarters machine with just enough lights and dazzle to entertain. I was chasing a two million dollar jackpot and riding waves of highs and lows as I hit and missed for over an hour; nay, two hours. The secret to my longevity? God. For every gain I made on the slot machine I would immediately follow up with three bets of three quarters each representing the number three as the number for God and three threes meaning God is God. It seemed as long as I put this small salute in to the Lord of Wheel Of Fortune I kept gaining ground, or at least not losing everything; as the two million dollar jackpot came closer to my machine. People sitting on either side of me were indeed taking notice as I began to hit an unusual amount of special bonus rounds on the machine, which of course give you a spin of the Wheel Of Fortune wheel and access to more quarters. Perhaps it was the music and lights drawing them in or perhaps it was me talking outloud about God and preaching my gambling system. Damn, that magazine even told me the number four was bad luck in Asia, so aside from paying repeated tributes to God I would make sure never to land my quarter total on a number involving four. If it landed on four then I bet that four, if I messed that up then it required me to bet a seven followed by an eleven, and when in doubt another series of threes. Did I say two hours? I was at that machine babbling to God for at least three. Didn't win a fucking cent.

On the way out of Nevada I decided to leave behind some more poop. Naturally I stopped at a casino located next to a gas station. Three hours later I was still sitting at Whiskey Pete's casino chasing a mere $500 jack pot, not saying a word to God and gaining an audience of curious Asians as my penny machine had the loudest speakers in the place; sounding like I had just won millions every time a penny went my way. I did indeed walk out of there lighter in the bowels, but heavier in the wallet with $451 bucks.

The moral of this story? I think it was supposed to have something to do with God, but by now I am back to thinking about the sex and all the sex money could probably buy someone if they had won two million on the Wheel Of Fortune machine. Whiskey Pete's has the loosest slots I could find though, but the sex available in that price range might not be to your liking. Unless Willie Nelson groupies intrigue you, since he was their big headliner coming to town.