Viva Las Vegas, You Crap Town!

I frantically searched through my oversized trashcan I call a handbag for a single dollar bill. Fives, tens, twentys, even a hundred dollar bill wadded in the bottom corner but no single dollars. I pulled out a fiver and slipped into the brightly lit death box, or Wheel of Fortune slot machine. Twenty credits... I gotta' make it last. I bet one credit, reached my right arm up to the long silver lever with the bulb on the end and pulled it toward me.
"WHEEL OF FORTUNE!", the machine yelled at me. Something happened it seemed good, and now I was getting to spin the wheel.
Round and round the wheel went 1000x10 being the highest 35 being the lowest. I struck it lamely at 35, of course. Bet another credit, nothing. Bet three credits, nothing. I was beginning to panic, my brow started to dampen, but I sat with a complete stare of boredom at the machine letting long exhausted bits of air escape through my lips so that if anyone around me, that I knew, happened to look my direction they would think I wasn't concerned with the winnings of a slot machine. But I was! I stopped and thought about how I really needed this lucky break and how I would do so much good if I could just win a bit of money. I began to pray, something I only do when I want to win money, or find money in a mysterious unmarked envelope on the sidewalk, or when I want to win money on a bingo scratch card, or when I want someone to show up at my front door with a gigantic check with my name on it.
"God pleeease let me win I swear I will share it with other people after I take care of my debt", then I thought to myself this isn't how prayers work I gotta' pray for others happiness then I will be rewarded, "actually God let the person next to me win I don't need it, I'll survive. Let everyone else, all the diaper wearin' blue hairs, in this casino win.. for the people God".
My wishes came through, my last credit... I won nothing. The people... won everything. Even this one dope who was with Pj Smorg, Margaret Louise, The Mayor, Durwood, the others, and me stuck one freakin' dollar in and won $250.00 bucks. Why him, he looks funny and has a lame girlfriend. A girlfriend who complained of the smoke in the shared hotel room with my friends and dicked them out of the rooms bill by demanding her own smoke free room. What did she think going to a wedding in the sinfilled town of Las Vegas agreeing to shack up with two smokers for a weekend, go back to church camp Mother Teresa! I was bitter now, once again I was in cheap crappy fanny pack sweat suit stank Vegas. All I wanted out of this shit town was a giant stuffed unicorn or a million dollars, that's nothing. Instead all I got was a hangover, and a chance to run into this guy I dated in Chicago for a brief spell who whenever we'd start to get it on would turn into a dog. Barking and panting, licking himself, and begging for treats and frisby tosses in the park. I got an attempted salad and mac-n-chees from the ever so lovely Harley Davidson Cafe, the kind of place you want to return your meal in the toilet seconds after digestion. The only thing worth remembering from the Vegas trip was the ride to and from where I spent many hours laughing and making road trip jokes with The Mayor and Margaret Louise, and the 45 seconds I spent on the rollar coaster at the casino where I saw the Dog Man.
I've spent the last 48 hours trying to escape the bling bling ching ching doodlydoodlydoodly sounds of the slot machines that are dancing unforgotten in my head, as I sit and wait for Ed and his giant check. One day, I know it, I'll be the big winner. Then me and the Dog Man can go get a ranch in Montana where he can run and run and run.