My players are going to be visiting the palace of a demon lord of pleasure who's more CN than CE. I want to show that despite his title, he represents all forms of pleasure and good feelings, not just sex. Also space in his realm doesn't work the same way as it does in the mortal plane. He essentially has an infinite amount of space to work with and can customize it as he pleases, so there are no size constraints.

1. A casino to feel the thrill of gambling.
2. A dining hall with an endless buffet that visitors are allowed to eat as much as they wish.
3. An idyllic beach with perfectly white sand to relax or play on.
4. An arena where gladiators brawl it out against each other. The point of it isn't to kill each other as much as make the battles look stunning to the audience.
5. A hotel with the most comfortable beds possible. Here anyone with enough money can enjoy a good rest after all the excitement.
6. A beautiful and well tended garden filled with aromatic flowers and sweet fruits.
7. A vineyard where exquisitely-aged wine can be produced just by pressing the grapes. (u/_SovietMudkip_)
8. A petting zoo full of the babies of dangerous creatures. (u/_SovietMudkip_)
9. An opulent concert hall where the best musicians of the realms perform (u/_SovietMudkip_)
10. A small, cozy looking wooden library, with a cushioned bay window where rain gently scatters against the glass and a cup of some hot liquid gently rising with steam. (u/QuietOracle)
11. An owl-bear hugging zoo. Go to sleep in the embrace of their soft down. (u/QuietOracle)
12. The room of sensory experiences. The room itself is fairly plain, with the main feature being long tables running the length of the room. On closer inspection there are fist-sized carved holes, each one holding a small round crystal... (u/QuietOracle)
13. A room with dozens of sacks filled with beans, lentils and grains where visitors can put their hands in and let the contents run through their fingers. (u/_WhiteCubeCat_)
14. A hag (or any other long nailed creature) giving visitors a scalp massage. (u/_WhiteCubeCat_)
15. A museum of little-known or long-forgotten art pieces, sculptures, and history. (u/MoonlightMancer)
16. A festival full of colors, music, and drinks. Everyone seems to love you, and you can’t stop laughing. (u/MoonlightMancer)
17. A hallway of endless doors. In each room is someone you know, complimenting you endlessly, sharing every positive, even begrudgingly jealous thought they ever had about you. (u/MoonlightMancer)
18. A room full of bubble wrap. (u/EmmaDrake)
19. A hot spring/spa, with fluffy towels, those showers that are like rain with perfect water pressure, mud baths, and refreshing food and drink. (u/lionesslindsey)
20. A room full of people that constantly give you validation and laugh at all your jokes. (u/CountryJeff)
21. Never-ending line of gold chalices, crystal vases, silver artwork, and other valuables. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
22. People who are “better” than you are marched in a stripped of their superior qualities. Beautiful people are disfigured and turned ugly. Wealthy powerful people are ruined and made to beg you for pennies. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
23. Mass groups of people enter the room and tell you how they admire you and how wonderful you are. They stroke your ego and inflate your pride. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
24. Servants do everything for you. Feed you, give you drinks, wash you, wipe your arse, etc. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
25. You are given a wickedly barbed leather whip. A slave creature is bound to a post and you can whip this creature to inflict your wrath upon them as much as you desire. If the poor soul dies, another is brought in to replace them. (u/PutridMeatPuppet)
26. 'Knight for a day'. The full experience; lance, shiny outfit, a squire, a trusty stead, a dragon and a princess/prince to rescue. (u/mr_earthman)
27. The magical equivalent of a holo deck (u/cyber-viper)
28. Wide, flat plain with the fastest vehicles in the multiverse (a good place to use the Avernus vehicles) (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
29. A selection of cities and villages for you to destroy with war machines or your own magic. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
30. A collection of wand that allow you to test out powerful magic. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
31. A magical version of a movie theatre, allowing you to watch all manner of stories, true and legendary. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
32. A moderately large pool where small battleships with tiny animated crewmen can be deployed in teams to shell and board each other for the audience's amusement. Honored guests can put their strategic abilities to a test against other players by directly giving orders to their ships, and in certain hours guests may even swim in the pool to live out the power fantasy of being a sea monster. (u/VIixIXine)
33. A colorizer-device that transforms any clothes/armoweapons/other gear to any desired hue you wish (as long as it doesn’t affect the workings of the gear) (u/PaigeOrion)
34. A grand screen, showing a nearly infinite number of (screen)plays from all space and time, including the show with the disgraced human paladin delivering a green baby gnome back to his home land through incredible odds. (u/PaigeOrion)
35. A tiara that allows you to experience the sensory experience of a black cat as long as you wear it and close your eyes. (u/PaigeOrion)
36. A plethora of small, multicolored blocks that will magically interlock with one another to render almost any architectural structure imaginable. (But don’t step on them barefoot!) (u/PaigeOrion)
37. A band of musicians who are the perfect musical backup for any performances. Alone, they are more low key, but no less skilled, playing haunting melodies of unknown origin. (u/PaigeOrion)
38. A massive walk-in closet where you can try in any clothes in any fashion you like. (u/Tezla44)
39. A "schadenfreude" theatre, with shows that rely on slapstick and cringe comedy. (u/Martinus_XIV)
40. A REALLY good chocolate fountain (u/BrokenBanette)
41. A room designed to give you closure. When you enter this room, someone you loved and lost is there, sitting in a couch. The room feels vaguely familiar, but you can't place why. If Detect Magic is used, the room is full of magic (divination, transmutation, illusion) but the person seems like a normal person. You can chat with them for as long as you like. They behave just as you remember them, with the good and the bad. (u/ohsurenerd)
42. A theatre performing the most magnificent tragedies. When you watch the performance, you find yourself completely enraptured: you cheer when things go right, scream when something terrifying happens, and moan and weep at the inevitable horrible ending. When you leave, it feels like removing a backpack full of lead that you'd been carrying for so long you'd forgotten it was there. (u/ohsurenerd)
43. A room where there's a button, there's someone outside and it explains that if you enter there's a 50/50 chance of you dying or not, the room won't actually kill you and it's there just to make you feel the pleasure of near death experience. (u/SupremeGodDictator)
44. A massage parlor with the universes best staff pampering your every need as you receive the most relaxing massage of your life whether it be scalp, back, foot, full body, etc. Has the worlds fluffiest towels and robes to luxuriate in while you wait or if you simply want to sit in a comfy chair and enjoy your ache free muscles. (u/Blue_Mando)
45. An arena where you and your opponents heal near instantly, and you can fight endlessly (u/ellen-the-educator)
46. A reenactment of your greatest failures in life, but this time they turn into your greatest achievements. (u/CountryJeff)
47. A room with the world's finest works of art.... and a myriad of implements you can use to destroy them. (u/redrosebeetle)
48. A torture chamber with mages on hand to create illusions of the people you wish to torture. Or increasingly realistic versions of them, depending on the level of magic you wish to implement. (u/redrosebeetle)
49. A room full of gold and jewels you can roll around in, ala Scrooge McDuck. But woe betide anyone who tries to take a souvenir.... (u/redrosebeetle)
50. As you're walking through the gardens, a person comes up to you. They introduce themselves as an adventurer who's also here on a quest. They seem to be the same class as you, and they're incredibly attractive-- almost exactly your type. You immediately click and end up spending the day together, talking about everything and anything. You tell them things you've never told anyone else before. They understand everything you tell them, almost innately, but they're still impressed by your feats and your stories. The two of you find an empty bedroom and close the door behind you. It's perfect in its imperfections. In the morning they're gone. No matter where you look, you can't find them. (u/ohsurenerd)
51. A room lined with shelves and shelves of bottles and vials containing a crimson liquid flowing slowly (like a syrup), all with small labels on them. As you inspect the labels, you realize they've all got names on them: famous adventurers, kings and queens, great sages. If you drink one, you experience a selection of their memories as they experienced them: battles won, discoveries made, historical alliances and friendships being forged or broken... (u/ohsurenerd)
52. A room that turns anyone that enters it into a child. It is full of every toy imaginable (u/arual_x)
53. A tour of a chocolate factory. Kobolds work there, and the owner, who gives the tour, is a Metallic Dragon in Humanoid form. (u/arual_x)
54. A fortune teller who has a Deck of Many Things with only the good cards. If you in any way offend them, they will sleight of hand vs perception check slip you a bad card instead. (u/arual_x)
55. An island theme park of reanimated dinosaurs. The owner is a level 20 Necromancer called Hamm Johnand. (u/arual_x)
56. A Virtual Reality style game that allows you to battle horrible monsters over and over again without risk of injury physical. But still allows you to gain XP... (u/arual_x)
57. A perfect expanse of thick snowy ground. There is constantly a snowball fight going on. (u/arual_x)
58. A giant room full of mattresses where everyone immediately gets a wonderful massage. (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
59. A room where you get to torture all of your worst enemies (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
60. A room where people applaud you, give you a trophy, etc (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
61. A room where you get something that was denied to you (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
62. A room full of gold and exquisite things, from beautiful furniture to magic weapons (u/Revanclaw-and-memes)
63. A seemingly endless room where adventurers can drink a potion to grow wings and flit about to their hearts' delight (u/iriedashur)
64. An ordinary classroom containing the adventurer's childhood friends, enemies, and their most hated teacher. Upon entering the room, the adventurer discovers that they are invisible, and free to pull pranks as they wish (u/iriedashur)
65. A brightly colored room piled high with wrapped gifts, large and small, for the adventurers to open endlessly (u/iriedashur)
66. A purple and black dragon named Ace who cooks you garlic bread and cake. (u/sanorace)
67. A magic pair of goggles/glasses that simulate any “What if” question you pose to them. (u/lewiscann)
68. A magical weather room where you can ask for any weather for your pleasure (I love listening to rain) (u/lewiscann)
69. A room full of lounges with a floating slow burning piece of wood that warms the whole area, the piece of wood is so large you can see the flame spread through this piece of wood forever (u/lewiscann)
70. A room where you can bite your fingernails and they grow back instantly ( so you can bite them some more )(u/razenastie)
71. A room with incredibly weakened versions of powerful monsters. (u/Your_InsideMan)
72. A vast room on wooden sculptures, oil, and torches. (u/Your_InsideMan)
73. A zoo of sentient races (u/Paralytica)
74. A collection of legendary heroes magically transfixed in blocks of ice. (u/Paralytica)
75. Palanquin rentals (u/Paralytica)
76. A booth that will remake your face whilst in the palace (ostensibly to make you more beautiful but it could be used for anything) (u/Paralytica)
77. A magic chair that gives really good back massages (u/TenNinetythree)
78. A playground where the slides and carousels are for adults (u/TenNinetythree)
79. A room where you become a giant and can destroy cities and fortresses kaiju style. (u/Paralytica)
80. Drug Olympics. A room with every drug imaginable to try. Leaving the room cleanses you of their effects. (u/Skitsafrit)
81. No Pauses. A room that has the effect of making all conversations flow perfectly. No silence stretches too long, no one mishears you, and every topic segways perfectly into the next. (u/Skitsafrit)
82. Deprivation Room. The room is so absolutely featureless and quiet, that you can meditate magnitudes better here than anywhere else. (u/Skitsafrit)
83. A games room where you play against your perfect match (u/Nesurame)
84. Similar to the previous, a games room where you're matched against nothing but weaker opponents (u/Nesurame)
85. A smoky, dreamweed hookah lounge (u/reallyenjoyscarbs)
86. A heist simulator where you always get away with the big diamond, chest, etc (thrill of theft) (u/reallyenjoyscarbs)
87. A sauna room with a central pillar. Inside the pillar is a chamber containing a magic stone which can detect the exact temperature preferences of those inside, and making each person feel said preference. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
88. An oval-shaped room with countless glass lotion bottles, with each smelling better than the last. If you look for a specific scent (no matter how rare), you'll certainly find it with the help of a goblin near the back of the room. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
89. A room that consists of A bunch of mortals so utterly jaded from years of plesure seeking that they need the hardest of drugs and the wildest of sensations to feel anything,with lesser demons feeding on their pursuit of euphoria. Think the emperors children from warhammer 40k. (u/TgagHammerstrike)
90. A buffet of the lids of yogurt/pudding cups to lick. (u/Hunter37594)
91. An olfactory room that reads your memories and replicates smells that remind you of your most joyous moments. (u/lecorbusianus)
92. A wildlife reserve for Druids to find new and exotic wild shapes. (u/lecorbusianus)
93. A room with musical instruments that you're able to master immediately. (u/lecorbusianus)
94. Zero gravity obstacle course. (u/lecorbusianus)
95. A cooking class taught by a master chef that always seems to have enough time to guide you one-on-one. (u/lecorbusianus)
96. An enchanter who allows you to relieve the best moments of your life over and over again. (u/lecorbusianus)
97. An illusionary room that brings up past experiences and let’s you make different choices to fix mistakes or win arguments. (u/The_Rhibo)
98. A murder simulator to allow an individual to live out the fantasy of killing that special someone. (u/Brann_The_Kid)
99. A library full of blackmail and secret knowledge regarding historical and political figures. A conniving, plotting character’s dream! (u/MoonlightMancer)
100. A room where you can see colors that shouldn't exist. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
101. A room with a creature in a dark robe sitting at a table covered in maps and dice. He helps you play a strange game where you and your party make up characters that go on adventures while the robed creature acts as all of the other characters and determines new events. (u/Clickclacktheblueguy)
102. ...

This one is a doozy...
So, a fateful day around 2010ish I was in that dingleberry of a swampy butthole of land known as Fort Polk doing my train up for a deployment. That's a fucking story in itself.
Anyhow, the end of the rotation had occurred, the war against whatever made up name country was won, and we were returning from Polky-land to our dependapotamuses. I was on a contact high as I was personally selected to be a part of my Battalion Commander's personal security detachment and all our joes were hand-selected by the Platoon Leader, Platoon Sergeant, and myself so we had a really awesome platoon. How awesome? When we did an escort mission with the Chaplain meeting with local religious leader, at the end, our division chaplain told us that "You guys fucking rocked that shit. Gave me a fucking hardon. That's what this division is all about. Fuck yeah."
Preach on brother.
Fast forward, fast forward.
Anyhow, my Platoon Sergeant came to me and told me I needed to go to the bay where my Commander and First Sergeant were. My first thought was of deep consideration and reflection.
"Shit." This can't be good.
When I arrive, my First Sergeant's first question to me "Do you have government travel card?" I nodded a confirmation from our Operation BS in Egypt. He looks at me and says "No, you don't." What fucking Jedi mindtrick is this? Did I forget to pay off a debt? Will I be summoned straight to the Division CSM for a beheading as seems to be the operating procedure whenever government travel cards payments come into question. Casually, my commander slides a brigade memorandum towards me and motions for me to read it.
I start reading and realize it's a tasking memorandum stating what each company will provide from brigade.
Alpha Company...
Two NCOs and three soldiers. "Suckers."
Bravo Company...
Three soldiers. "Nerds."
Charlie Company...
Three E6 NCOs. "Lol, loooossers..."
Delta Company...
Staff Sergeant Pickleindabutt. "well fuck me in the butt."
BY NAME?! I was the only fucking individual chosen by MY GOD DAMN FULL NAME in this memorandum. How does brigade even know I exist? Why am I being tasked directly? Who put this memo together and how the fuck did they know my name. Who the fuck volun-told my name without me receiving a whisper of such curse. Suddenly it dawned on me and I realized what this tasking needed me for.
"^hazmat"
Apparently I was the only person in brigade who could effectively fill out the forms for our HAZMAT containers. It started where I was just doing it for the company, moved to me declaring for battalion, and now BRIGADE is tracking me. AMO-62 qualification got me again and I was hand selected because my paperwork was the only one that kept getting cleared so they came after me.
My dudes and dudettes, I literally volunteered for this course to get me out of a field exercise so I could watch the SEC championship - no shit. I was a dumb grunt and I didn't even know what the course was and just wanted to get my Roll Tide on. I get there for class and they're like "This is for declaring hazardous material for shipment by land, sea, air, teleportation pods, Skynet time travel, and rail." My dumb ass E5 self was like "Lol, when the hell does any infantry dude declare HAZMAT. Cake."
A week later I was declaring HAZMAT for my brigade to Haiti so shows how well I could foreshadow things. You know how my paperwork always made it through? Let's break down the process.
Me arrive. Me find MSDSs for hazmat. Me find civilian inspector who is overshadowing the process.
"Yo, how do you want me to fill this out." Everyone else would be digging around the CFR 49 and I was just like "Lol, I can't read. Let me find the civilian who makes a career of this and ask them." And that's how I became the HAZMAT guy.
Fast forward, fast forward.
So now I'm part of a tasking that is ensuring our containers make it out of Beaumont, Texas. I already came to Polk on advance parties where I basically had AT&T screaming at me to stop using data while I watched all the episodes of Breaking Bad that was available at the time. Now I'm not even the rear detachment, I'm the past - I'm on fucking ice basically, a forgotten artifact of my brigade's Polk rotation. "Yall remember that one Staff Sergeant?... He told funny jokes... Whatever happened to him? I seem to recall him telling his soldiers to run over g-men at Polk whenever they surrounded his humvee while blatantly ignoring that a 50 cal was rocking them the whole time and then he just... vanished."
Fast forward, fast forward.
Me and two others will be grabbing a rental and driving to Beaumont. God damnit, I deploy in a few weeks and I'm already getting less time with my succubus future exwife that has a spending habit that makes Target wet thinking about it. Anyway, they move me to the brigade's bay. If you've never been to Polk, they have these hangers where they just stick a metric-fuck-ton of bunk beds when you're field rotation is over and you're either leaving or preparing for war with the g-men. The g-men are the Louisiana equivalent of Taliban and should never be trusted. They call themselves soldiers but they are the true enemy. While you're sludging through the swamps and wondering if you're in Vietnam, they come out of no where with their significantly enhanced miles laser gear and somehow your miles can never kill them. You just hear the beep of death of your gear to inform you that traitorous scum g-men nailed you. Probably for killing a Staff Sergeant they get a three day weekend or something.
So, here I am in the brigade headquarters and we just acquired a rental car with a fellow NCO and fresh out of the officer-oven Lieutenant. Lieutenant asks a fateful question "You guys want to go off base." Unfortunately I came to fight the g-men and did not know I was going to be traveling so I had no civilian clothes. So, we agree to go to Wal-Mart in town so I can buy the cheapest of the cheap threads since my wife at the time absolutely had to buy "live, laugh, love" useless items from retail stores at an alarming rate.
Listen to me, Polk is the middle of no where. It is a fucking swamp. I hated going there. I literally would shake the hands of people stationed there and tell them "You're in my thoughts and prayers." The place has a random wild horse herd and farm animals all over the place because people just dump their animals there. I had never left the base before and when we drove off I was basically like "Oh my..." It was like driving into a Flannery O'Connor novel but with strip clubs. There is absolutely nothing in Leesville but several strip clubs, a Wal-Mart, some shitty steakhouse, and trailers. Listen, I'm from Alabama and I was even like "Fuck. This isn't even deep south this is deepest south."
So anyway, I buy the literal cheapest threads from Wal-Mart for my journey to Beaumont and we decide to go into one of the strip clubs for a few drinks and... holy shit, this place was the most Jabba the Hutt's palace experience I have ever had except instead of Leia they had Jaba on the poles. I quietly order a beer, get propositioned for a backroom dance from a human opossum and could only quietly respond "No thank you I'm Christian" in an attempt to ward off others, and wonder how the fuck am I going to get this LT to drink his beer faster so we can fucking leave.
Fast forward, fast forward.
We finally arrived to Beaumont and check in our hotel. I'm suffering from a wicked hangover from the night before in Lake Charles which had about 10 women for each male at the bar we went to. When we get to the hotel, we all agree that we just want to get some food and the clerk recommends this Cajun themed restaurant down the road. We go there and there were no tables but three open seats at the bar so we chose that. As always, Army guys are only just going to talk about the fucking Army so we proceed with our usual dose of bitching and whinnying.
Suddenly, this older gent leads forward sitting beside us and says "YALL IN THE SERVICE?!"
"Sure 'nuff."
"YALL DEPLOYED!?"
"We have and we're heading back to Iraq in a few months."
"FOOD AND DRINKS ON ME - BARTENDER, SHOTS OF TEQUILA FOR ALL OF US AND MY MISSUS"
"That's not necessary sir we-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP. FOOD - DRINKS ON ME."
And that's how I met who I will refer to as Chief. I call him Chief because later he told me he was a Navy veteran and later he told me he was a Seal - like 98% of Navy veterans you meet. Chief had his lovely girlfriend with him and was the loudest fucking Texan in a bar full of Texans. He was pretty funny but mind you I'm still dealing with this wicked hangover and really just wanted sleep. We eat our respective meals and have a few more shots and beers.
"WHAT'S YOUR PLANS TONIGHT!?"
"We're tired so we were just goin-"
"NOT IN MY TOWN ON A FRIDAY NIGHT. YOU BOYS ARE MEETING UP WITH ME."
"That's really not neces-"
"YOU HAVE TO TAKE MY OFFER BECAUSE I PAID YOUR MEALS AND DRINKS AND YOU'D BE DICKS IF OTHERWISE, MEET ME AT CHILI'S."
Well, fuck. Fair point. We ended up driving to this random Chili's after exchanging texts with them and shit. My LT is all worked up and excited like a puppy because he's hoping they're a rich couple who want to rain down upon us the riches of the world for THX 4 UR SERVICE. I'm more in the tune of thought that they're swingers and probably want untie one of our balloon knots in some heated up sexcapade.
All the sudden, this SUPED the fuck up Mustang pulls up beside us.
"HEY YALL SEEN SOME ARMY DOUCHEBAGS!?" as the window rolls down.
"I'm sorry, we're not like submarines or Marines, you can't go down on us sir."
"HA! LET'S SEE IF THAT PIECE OF SHIT CAN KEEP UP"
"It's a fucking rental Dodge of course it won't-" his Mustang goes flying off 2 Fast 2 Furious style. The Lieutenant is driving as I watch this Mustang Toyko-fucking-drift into the highway.
"Slow down and ask him the location by text. I don't want to die on the road." So Chief proceeds to text us the location of where they are heading. And of course, strip club. We pull up and it's about the nicest fucking strip club I have ever seen. Polar opposite to that fucking swamp trailer we had seen before. I'm walking in my Wal-Mart bin threads clothes like "Fuck I'm not dressed for this shit."
There's another couple with Chief now who introduce themselves to us. They're roughly around his age and married. Oh yeah, we are totally in a swinger situation. One of us is going to have to pay the dues and it isn't me. We walk in and sit down at this table and this place is two stories. Huge. Multiple dancers everywhere.
"ALL DRINKS ON ME, YOU WANT A DANCE, PUT IT ON MY CARD." He then proceeds to pull out $300 in ones and shuffles them to each of us so we total $100 each. Dude. WTF is this. Then he proceeds to buy a tray of jello shots and puts that on the table. At this time, a Mafiaso looking dude walks up to us in a nice suit.
"Thank you for getting the VIP section. Just so you're aware, you will have to purchase a $500 dollar bottle of champagne or a $1000 bottle." What. The. Fuck. We're in the VIP section of this club? Holy shit, how much does that cost? Here I am dressed in clothes that probably in total cost $17.67 and about to be drinking a bottle of $500 champagne.
"I DON'T WANT CHAMPAGNE! I WANT SOME REAL LIQUOR!" Gents and gentettes, I proceed to watch this man argue with the owner that he wants Captain Morgan over champagne. I am now at a loss of processing this TDY adventure. Finally the owner agrees to Captain Morgan but it will still cost $500 dollars.
He agrees. I just witnessed a man pay $500 dollars for a bottle of Captain Morgan. That I am almost positive that we never opened. I shit you not. I am holding back on throwing this dude's cash around because I'm still worried about the whole swinger aspect and them getting some soldier butthole later in the night when the festivities end.
Fast forward, fast forward.
Night ends. We bid our farewells to Chief and his friends. None of us was required to fuck one of them. Other NCO didn't drink at all so he drives us back to the hotel so we can finally crash. We do. TDY adventure now can get official and we can focus on our containers like professionals...
Hold fast. Rewind, rewind.
It's a Saturday. We don't have shit we can do. I'm awoken early in the morning by a knock at my door in which I answer and the Lieutenant is standing there with Chief on speaker yelling about jet-skis or some shit. wat?
"He said he told you that we were going on his boat today." Umm.... negative.
"MEET ME AT THE DOCKS" Chief yells on the phone and hangs up.
So, we ended up meeting them at whatever lake is near Beaumont and let me tell you what... I would have given up my butthole for the amount of fun we had on his boat and jet skis. Jesus Christ, that was one of the funnest days of my life. I had never ridden a jet ski before but was going nuts on it. In less than two hours of meeting up with him, I'm driving a jet ski for the first time in my life trying to keep up with his fucking boat so I don't lose him. I don't really have much to add to that but god damn jet skis are amazing.
Fast forward, fast forward.
So we get the boat back to the dock and, in case I didn't mention, it was Chief, his girlfriend, and the other couple I mentioned before. I hear them talking about going to some boat casino with a Jack Daniels restaurant. Chief's friend keeps telling me they make a steak that is so good you will want to "fuck it on the floor to relieve your erection" which I believe is a high compliment. They get ready to leave and we bid our farewells.
"THE FUCK ARE YALL TALKING ABOUT, SEE YOU THERE." Well okay, I guess we're going to a boat casino lol wtf. We go to a casino and they park the boat at the docks. I proceed to watch these fools drop mad money after eating a steak that I'm not sure I would call floor fucking worthy but pretty damn good. They then proceed to go nuts on the gambling. I mean fucking leaving me at their table with like $1,000 dollars so they could take a quick piss and I don't even gamble so I just stood there like a lost child. At one point, I notice Chief is missing so I decide to go check his boat.
Lo and behold, there he is swimming in the dock with his boat blaring music loud as fuck. As I am walking towards the concert, there is literally a party of people dancing to his music outside of a hotel room on a balcony. I walk down and he's climbing back in. About this time, the other NCO from my merry band of adventurers walks up to. Chief asks what service-members carry now in the Army and proceeds to pull a glock out of his boat glove compartment.
Alrighty now... I don't really care much for someone to be intoxicated and holding a gun. "Hey you should probably put-"
BANG
Mother. Fucker. Fucking. Fuck. FUCK. He totally just fired a round into the water. We are at a god damn casino and on the casino property. We are so about to taken the fuck down into depths of hell that I have never seen before. That dancing crew that I mentioned early, they're gone. Andddddd here comes security. Two behemoths of security guards heading our way. Once again, I go into the fucking zone and start walking towards them.
"HEY DID SOMEONE FIRE A GUN OVER HERE!?"
"Hey brother, that shit scared the fuck out of me."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"
"It must have been like a boat backfire or something. I thought for sure it was a gunshot at first. I think the water made it sound weird. Scared the fuck out of me."
"How do you know it wasn't!?"
"Oh I'm in the Army bro. That shit made me think someone was shooting at us."
"Oh... Okay... You cool?"
"Yeah, I'm good man. Just spooked me."
"You need a drink? On the house if nee-"
"Nah, I'm good man. Thank you though. Have a nice night."
And that's how I avoided being taken into casino prison.
Fast forward, fast forward.
We bid our farewells and return back to the hotel. Sunday I get a call from Chief's friend who I will refer to as "Victor" calls me and asks if we would like to get a few Sunday beers. We agree and meet at this chill local bar and are just shooting the shit.
District Attorney for the area happen to be sitting in there and buys us rounds. God damn Texas really does fucking love the military, Jesus. At this time another older gentleman that knows Victor sits beside me and greets Victor. He asks me if I had deployed and I told him I had and was heading back over.
"I thought my war was bad, I feel bad for your situation with those bombs they put on the roads. Scary stuff."
"You were in?"
"Army, Vietnam. I was a forward observer."
This dude then proceeds to tell me stories about hiding in the brush from dog handlers who were hunting them down since they were forward observers. He proceeds to mention that if it wasn't for some Native American teaching them how to hide their scent, he would have been found. Basically learned how to rub shit on themselves so they could evade dog handlers. I'm sitting there in dismay at how he felt bad for my war... I may have gone into Iraqi shit creeks more than I cared for but I wasn't purposely rubbing shit in my hair so I could be behind deadly frontlines.
He then proceeds to talk about a battle he was in. How they were being overran at one point by the Vietnamese.
"We lost a lot of good men that day. Lots of friends." A slight tear rolls down his cheek and I saw him brush it away. You can usually spot a bull shitter with their gloats of heroism and valor. You know you're dealing with a man who had seen some shit when eyes water. A man who had seen some real hard shit in the bush. I could be wrong but I got the feeling he was the type that buried his experiences deep into his mind and never really got the chance to express his memories. He was a successful construction owner but I'm sure he still has nights judging by what he was telling me. Only to be probably spit on when he came home.
He asks to be excused so he can piss.
"I never knew he was in the service nor in Vietnam..." Victor says.
"I've known him for over 15 years and I had no clue." Bartender says.
Gentleman comes back and I ask if I can buy him a beer for his service as he had bought one for me. He agrees. Victor ended up picking up the tab before I could pay for that round. God damnit can I not fucking pay for anything here? I give him a firm handshake when I leave and tell him it was nice to meet him. Later I gave Victor my Combat Infantryman Badge and asked him to give it to the gentleman. Tell him I appreciate him telling me stories and mad respect for a man who had been through some real shit. While we were talking, he said something along the lines of not getting anything like infantry guys. Normally this would be debate worthy to me but I'm not saying shit to this gentleman. He's been through it.
"Does it mean anything when I give it to him?"
"Means essentially nothing but maybe it will be something to him."
Fast forward. I'm going to skip the part of going to a Roller Derby team after-party at a strip club where I saw behemoth sized women picking up strippers and toss money at them left and right. That was another doozy of a day. They were more crazy in the strip club than I had ever seen any crowd be.... Coming from a survivor of Fayettenam's strip club venues, that means something.
Alright. I'm on my final day and I've left a fuck ton more shit out of this story that occurred down in Beaumont for respectful reasons. We had to leave abruptly so I was on my last night. I went down to the hotel bar that I had gone into a few times. The bartender Steve was like the youngest 50 year old dude I had ever seen. I thought he was younger than me. Apparently my man Steve is a millionaire with a landscaping business and I ask him why he bartends and he says "Because of the funny fucking stories I get to hear from dudes like you." Oh, okay, word.
This other dude is sitting beside me and asks if I was in the Army as I well telling Steve the shit show of an experience I had since being in Beaumont.
"I was in too. I didn't go overseas or nothing like you did." I then proceed to have a very meaningful conversation with this dude on how he shouldn't look at it that way. He served and if called upon, he would have answered too. I offer to buy him a drink. He agrees and I ask Steve for a glass of their best scotch at the bar for both of us. I'm paying something in this god damn town before I leave. Just fucking something. I haven't dropped a dollar since Wal-Mart basically and this place has been so fucking kind to me, I'm putting something into Beaumont's economy. So help me God.
We talk. We finish our drinks. We shake hands. He departs. I look at Steve and realize that this will wrap up this adventure. My precious Beautmont adventure. What a time. You have been so kind and generous to me. Now it's time to pay for something for this town. Here we go.
"Get me tab Steve."
"It's on the house, Pickleindabutt."
FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
I go on this rant about how everyone is paying everything for me and fuck let me just buy a round. Steve is laughing at me and refuses.
"JUST LET ME BUY AN RC COLA STEVE, SHIT!"
I finally convince him to give me $0.00 receipt and leave him a $20 dollar tip.
The next day we get back into uniform and realize we grossly did not estimate our trip to the airport accurately at all so we are speeding away from lovely Beaumont to whatever airport we needed to get to in Louisiana. While speeding we get pulled over by some Louisiana state trooper. He walks up to the passenger side where I am sitting at.
"Who the hell do you think you are speeding like - what the hell, yall going to war or something?" when he sees the uniforms.
"Well, we're trying to make our flight at the so we can go to Iraq."
Ehhh, not a lie necessarily...
"Alright, after you pass the next state trooper at the end of the coming construction zone, you should be able to gun it the rest of the way there. Be safe now!" Wasn't expecting that response but we'll take it.
And that was that. I went back to Fort Bragg. Beaumont's adventure was over and I somehow managed to survive. I came back on a regular workday night and went to bed. Woke up to my Staff Duty desk calling me at like 5am and my dumb ass Sergeant Major was on the line which is not what I wanted...
"Hey SSG Pickle! Were you trying to fucking kill yourself!?"
Dear God, did my Sergeant Major catch wind of all that was going down in Beaumont. I wasn't posting it on social media. Does he know the shennanigans? We got the containers through. Did he catch rumors of his Staff Sergeant parading around in strip clubs, almost crashing a jet ski, partying with Roller Derby girls, having to sit around a hospital waiting area for a day, being selected to be a special guest for a crawfish cook-off... Could they question my professionalism? Am I losing my spot on the security detachment. Did I fill out hazmat paperwork wrong?... What could this mean.
"Uh... negative."
"Oh shit wrong SSG, never mind." Hangs up.
Get a text from my Platoon Sergeant who is acting 1SG at this time and he's basically like "Come in today, now." I get there and he's basically like "Yeah everything has gone to shit for this pre-deployment. I need you in here." Whatever, that's fine. He's solid so I know it's the truth.
"By the way, how was that trip to Beaumont?"
"bro."

First published in Not Normal, Illinois: Peculiar Fictions from the Flyover, edited by Michael Martone (Quarry Books, 2009):

roman baker stood in the bright and crackling current of light that zipped around in patterned waves underneath the oval canopy entrance to the casino. He wasn't a gambler. The skittering brilliance didn't draw him in and he was already irritated with the piped-out carol music. A twenty, smoothly folded in his pocket, didn't itch him or burn his ass one bit. He had come to the casino because it was just a few days before Christmas and he didn't know how to celebrate. Maybe the electronic bell strum of slot machines would soothe him, or watching the cards spreading from the dealer's hands in arcs and waves. He took a step to the left, toward the cliffs of glass doors.
As he opened his hand to push at the door's brass plate and enter, a white man of medium height and wearing a green leather coat pressed his car keys into Roman's palm. Without waiting for a claim ticket, without even looking at Roman beyond the moment it took to ascertain that he was brown and stood before the doors of an Indian casino, the man walked off and was swallowed into the jingling gloom.
Roman waited before the doors, holding the keys. All of the valets were occupied. He held up the keys. A few seconds later, he put down his hand and clutched the keys in his fist. No one had seen this happen. Roman turned away from the doors, opened his hand, and saw that one shining key among the other keys belonged to a Jeep Cherokee. Immediately, he spotted the white Cherokee parked idling just beyond the lights of the canopy. An amused little voice in his head said go for it. He didn't think it out, just walked over to the car, got in, and drove away.
You couldn't call this stealing, since the guy gave me the keys, Roman told himself, but we are on a slippery slope. He checked at the lighted gauge of the Cherokee, and saw that the tank was nearly empty. There was a Super stop, handy, just down the road. Roman drove up to the bank of pumps and inserted the Cherokee's hose into the gas tank. Eight dollars worth should do it, he thought, and then he wondered. Do what? In the store, he decided he should be methodical, buy something to eat or drink. Afterwards, he would know what to do. The complicated bar of coffee machines drew him, and he stepped up to the grooved aluminum counter, chose a tall white insulated cup, and placed it under a machine's hose labeled French Vanilla. He held the button until the cup was three quarters full, and let the nozzle keep drizzling sweet foam on top. Then he figured out which plastic travel lid matched his cup and pressed it on, over the froth. So as not to burn his hand, he fitted the cup into a little cardboard sleeve. He paid for everything out of his twenty, and walked outside. It was a warm winter night in the middle of a thaw. Bits of moisture hung glittering in the gas-smelling air. There was a very light dust of sparkling fresh snow sinking into the day's brown slush.
"A white Christmas, huh?" said a woman's voice, just to the left.
"Yes, it will be enchanting," Roman answered.
He was the kind of person people spoke to in situations that could easily stay completely impersonal. His face was round, his nose pleasantly blunt, his eyes wide and friendly. His smile was genuine, he had been told. Yet women never stayed with him. Perhaps he was too comfortable, too nurturing, and reminded them of their mothers. Desperate mothers who wanted their children home before dark or wouldn't let them out of sight. Now, in addition to being motherly, plus the kind of person people spoke to on the streets or while pumping their gas, he was the type into whose comfortable palm strange white men trustingly pressed their car keys.
And house keys, too, and other keys. Roman jingled the set before his eyes and then fit the correct car key into the lock. He got into the car and carefully set the cappuccino into the cup holder before he drove to the edge of the parking lot. There, he turned on the dome light and opened the glove compartment. He found the car's registration, folded in a clear plastic sleeve, and the proof of insurance, too, with numbers to call. The owner's name was Torvil J. Morson and his address was 2272 West 195th Street, in the closest suburb. Roman took another drink of the milky, sweet, deadly tasting cappuccino. Then he put the cup back into the holder and drove carefully out of the lot.
The casino was prosperous because it was just far enough from the city to be considered a Destination Resort, and yet close enough so only an hour's quickly diminishing farmland, pine woods, and snowy fields stood between the reservation boundaries and the long stretch of little towns that had blended via strip malls and housing developments into the biggest population center in that part of the Midwest. Roman knew approximately how far he was from 195th street, and it took him exactly the 45 minutes he'd imagined to get there, find the house, and pull into the driveway, which he wouldn't have done unless he'd seen already that the windows were dark. The house was a small one story ranch style painted the same drab green as the jacket of the man who gave Roman the car keys.
Roman got out of the car, walked up to the front door, used the key. Just like that, he entered. Once in, he shut the door behind him and wiped his feet on a rough little welcome mat. The house had its own friendly smell-- slightly stale smoke, cinnamon buns, wet dried sour wool. A powerful streetlight cast a silvery glow through the front picture window. As his eyes adjusted, Roman stepped onto grayish, wall-to-wall carpet, and padded silently across the living room. His heart slowed. The carpeting soothed him. He went straight across the room to the kitchen, divided off by only a counter, and opened the freezer section of the refrigerator. He'd heard that people often kept their jewelry and cash there in case of a burglary or fire. There was a coffee can in the freezer, but it only held ground coffee. A few other promising Tupperware containers held nothing but old stew, alas. Roman shut the insulated door and rubbed his hands together to strike the chill from his fingers. Then he walked down the hall. He stepped into a bedroom, turned on the light. Posters of pop stars, stuffed animals, pencil drawings and dried flowers were taped to the walls. A teenage girl's room. Nothing. He turned out the light and found the master bedroom, the one closest to the bathroom. He was just about to turn on the light when the sound of breathing, or the sense of it, anyway, in the room, stopped his hand.
Then it didn't sound like breathing, but something else, sighing and watery. A fish tank, Roman thought. He listened a bit longer, then switched on the light and saw, on a table next to a window, a small plug-in fountain. The water coursed endlessly over an arrangement of smooth, black stones. Roman thought this must belong to the man's wife. He frowned at himself in the dressing room mirror, and adjusted the lapel of his jacket. The wife, or the teen, or another member of the family might return while he was standing in the lighted bedroom. Yet Roman had no prickles up his back, no darts of fear, no sense of apprehension. In fact, he felt as much at home as if he lived in this house himself. He was even tempted to lie down on the big queen-sized bed neatly made up with a purple quilt and pillows arranged upon pillows. Where had he read about this? Goldilocks! This bed looked comfortable. He thought of the three bears. There was a Mrs. Morson for sure, thought Roman. He pictured a bear meditating by the fountain. A meditator probably wasn't the type who would own gold and diamond jewelry, but he still had to check. There was not a safe on the closet floor, or even a velvety box on the top of the dresser or in the drawer that held underwear. No, there was only underwear, and it was decent, fresh cotton. What am I doing, thought Roman, with my hands in Mrs. Morson's underwear?
He shut the drawer firmly and sat on the edge of the bed.
I'm not going to find any cash, he decided. Mr. Morson has taken it to the casino. Treading down the hall and back across the soft carpet, he felt cheated. What had happened with the car keys was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Roman had never before done anything that was strictly criminal. But this break-in, where he hadn't had to actually break in, this was given to him. It was as though Mr. Morson had invited him to travel to his house and look for valuables. And nothing there! The house was very still now, the street outside utterly deserted, the neighboring houses dim and shut. Roman sat down on the couch, wishing that he had the rest of his cappuccino, but he'd left the cup in the car. There was a tremendous energy to the quiet, it seemed to him, a seething quality. He felt that he should do something bold, or important, with this piece of fate that he'd been handed. As he was thinking of what he might do, someone knocked on the door. Roman's first instinct was not to answer. But the expectant quality of the silence was too much for him. He went to the door and opened it. There stood a woman and a man, both in coats but wearing no scarves or hats. The woman held a wrapped gift. The man carried a crock-pot out of which there issued a faint and delicious, smoky, bean-soup scent.
"Oh, thank god!"
The woman stepped into the entryway, the man also, both exuding an air of conspiratorial excitement.
"Very clever, keeping the lights off," said the man. "But isn't that his car?"
"He gave me the keys and I just drove it here," Roman told him. The man gave a scratchy laugh that turned into a cough.
"Where should I put this?" He lifted the Crock-Pot slightly.
"In the kitchen?" said Roman.
"Let's put his presents in there, too," said the woman. "You must work with T.J. Have we met?"
"I'm Roman Baker."
"You look like an Indian," said the woman.
"People tell me that!" said Roman.
"Okay, and I'm Willa and that's Buzz with the seven bean soup. It's his specialty. Just the countertop lights! No overhead!"
"Right!" Buzz sounded gleeful. "Is Zola back yet? Did she get the cake?"
"I think so," said Roman. His skull suddenly felt tight, his eyes scratchy and shifty in their sockets. "I feel bad," he mumbled. "I don't have a gift. Maybe I should go out for sodas or beer."
"Oh, T.J. won't notice. T.J. will have a shit fit. I think we should all hide behind the counters and the couch. Will you get the door, Roman?"
"Come on in," said Roman, as he opened the door. "Wipe your feet." Two young men and an older woman stood on the steps. One man carried a neatly foil covered bowl. The other held a large, pale, tissue-wrapped gift.
"We brought Mom," one of the young men squealed, "she's drunk. She's such a hoot!"
"I drank a strawberry wine cooler. I'm loaded," said the elderly lady in a prim and sober voice. "Let me in so I can ditch these two idiots. Does he suspect?" She eyed Roman with a flare of exasperation, her scarlet mouth down-twisted.
"Not in the slightest," Roman told her. He helped her out of her coat while the two young men settled their things in the kitchen.
"Very clever, all the lights out," the lady muttered, "Zola says he'll pee his pants."
"That's pretty much what Willa says, too," Roman told the lady. Steering her toward the couch, he startled himself. A picture formed in his mind. It was himself. Crouched on the carpet. Out of control. Pissing his own pants and howling with surprised mirth.
"They're sending me out for more strawberry wine coolers," he said. He patted the woman's hand.
"You're an Indian," she said, severely and as if imparting information to him.
"A big one," said Roman.
The others in the kitchen were whooping with secretive anticipation. Roman touched the keys in his pocket, walked out the door. As he neared the white Cherokee two more people stepped into the driveway, asked him in low and enthralled voices if anybody else was there.
"Go on in," Roman told them. "Willa and Buzz are organizing everybody."
"Oh God!" said the woman. "I saw his car! I thought he'd got home already. Zola's following us. She'll be here any minute with the cake."
Roman jumped into the car, backed down the driveway, and drove the opposite way down the street from the way he guessed Zola would arrive.
Back on the turnoff to the highway, he thought, right or left? But it was inevitable. He headed toward the casino. The cappuccino was still warm and on the way there he finished it. He started to feel good. Yes, he had been given the Morson's keys, the keys to their life, and he'd visited that life. Enough. Nothing had happened after all. He hadn't taken anything except this car--for a drive. As he neared the vast casino parking lot he slowed and carefully reconnoitered, watching for extra security or flashing lights in case the Cherokee had been reported stolen. But all was bright and calm. Gamblers were walking to and fro, those who had self-parked. Others were waiting with their claim tickets on the swirl patterned carpet in the lobby underneath the lighted canopy. Roman eased the car into a marked space cautiously, far from the activity, and took his empty cappuccino cup with him before he locked the car's door.
That was your little adventure, he told himself. Now what? But he knew what. He walked back to the casino entrance and walked through, into the icy bells and plucking, continual ring that did predictable and pleasurable things to his central nervous system. He breathed faster in excitement. Possibly, the sound depressed left brain action. He felt connected to an irrational and urgent universe of lucky chance. His fingers twitched. First things first. He scanned the seated players looking for the green leather jacket, which was all he remembered about Morson. He decided to make a sweep, starting at the far end of the casino, checking the men's room first. He went up each row and down each row, passed behind each glazed, ghostly player. It took so long that he thought of giving up and simply turning the keys in at the lost and found. But then, there was T.J. Morson, green jacket slung behind him, staring into the lighted tumble of little pirate cove symbols on his machine's curved torso.
Roman tapped his shoulder and Morson waved him off, not to be bothered. Roman watched the man shove in three more quarters and hold his breath. Then sit back, dazed, rub his hand over his face.
Roman touched his shoulder again. "Happy Birthday."
"What?"
Morson turned and focused on him. His face was clean-cut and perfectly square, a solid Norwegian jawline, pale eyes, hair already white and thin, a little tousled. He was falling into heaviness around the neck and then below, like Roman, it was pretty close to a lost cause. Roman dangled the keys.
"You dropped these, I think?"
Morson slapped the pockets of his pants.
"For God sakes, thought I had it parked!"
Roman gave him the keys and turned to go, but he couldn't, not quite. He took a last look at Mr. Morson and saw that something was very wrong with him. T.J. Morson was sitting there with his mouth open, staring at the car keys. Not moving.
"Hey," Roman bent toward him, then waved his hand before the man's eyes, "you okay?"
"No," said Mr. Morson. He shut his mouth and then slowly, like a very old man, stood and shrugged on his jacket. He dropped the keys, picked them up. Sat back down and stared once more at the machine. Slowly, from his pants pocket, he drew a bit of change. Held it out questioningly to Roman, who rummaged in his own pocket and exchanged what Mr. Morson offered for a quarter. Morson held it a moment, then played it. Nothing.
"You okay?" Roman asked again.
But Morson was staring vacantly before him. His mouth was open and his hands were shaking.
"Not all right, not all right," he muttered.
"Hey," said Roman, "come on. Get up. Let's go sit in the cafe. I'll buy you a coffee."
"What I need is a drink."
"Yeah, well, maybe." Roman helped steady Mr. Morson. They walked down the aisle of light and sound, along a short hallway, and into a small interior restaurant where the waitress gave them a booth for two and poured their coffee.
"Cream. Lots of it. Thanks," Roman told her. She left the pot and a bowl of tiny plastic servings of flavored half-and-half.
"Thank you," said T.J. Morson, staring at the brown pottery cup. "And thank you for returning my car keys." His voice was heavy as a pour of concrete. The syllables seemed to harden as they fell from his mouth. "Well," he looked up, scanned the country-themed room, "this is it."
"What are you talking about?" asked Roman.
Morson put his face in his hands and then slowly pushed his hands up his face and over his hair. "That was it," he said again.
"Listen." Roman was beginning to feel alarmed. "It's your birthday. You should be heading home." He thought of all the excited people waiting in the living room of the Morson house, crouched behind the sofa and chairs and kitchen counters, the lights off.
"Weren't you supposed to be home a while ago?"
Mr. Morson looked at Roman, frowning now, momentarily distracted. "Who are you?"
"I'm a friend of Buzz and Willa," Roman told him. "Look, I'm going to let you in on something that's going to cheer you up. You've got to go home now. I'm not supposed to say a thing about it, but they're planning a surprise party in your honor. Zola's got the cake. Even as we speak, they are in your house, waiting for you. They have presents."
Telling this to Morson was surprisingly difficult. Roman felt the bleeding sensation of envy when he imagined stepping onto the warm, thick carpet. The blast of noise from friends. The bean soup. Beer. Cake.
Mr. Morson said nothing.
"You can't just leave them waiting there." Roman heard a note of accusing desperation in his voice.
Morson shook his head, now, as though his misery was a fall of water washing over him. His brilliant white hair lifted in the staticky air. Roman felt like reaching over and patting it down, but he kept his hand curled around his coffee cup.
"Fuck's sake, I can't go back there," said Morson wearily. "They don't know. Zola has no idea about this . . ." he waved his hand toward the casino through the glass doors of the restaurant. "I play when she's at work, when I'm supposed to be at work, except I don't have a job, see. That's over. She doesn't know I put a second mortgage on our house, a line of credit, then topped it. Cleaned out every one of our accounts." He stared fiercely, disconnectedly, at Roman. "There's nothing," he said. His mouth was suddenly and frighteningly sharklike, an impersonal black hungry v. A bubble of spit formed at either corner. "They'll take the house and then my car. They'll take her car. And Kayla . . . Oh god."
Morson dropped his face into the bowl of his hands. Roman thought he might either break down and sob or leap up and rake his fingers down the wallpaper. Which would it be? He was feeling oddly disconnected. Maybe this was the way a shrink felt, listening to the woes of a client from behind a clear shield of therapeutic immunity.
With a thick, jerky movement, T.J. Morson struck his hands together.
"I don't even smoke," he said as though appealing to Roman, "I don't drink. But this ..." again he waved at the lights and bells outside the door. "I think, I know, I had the vision or whatever, that because it was my birthday I could turn it all around if I had just, say, a couple hundred. And I knew where to get it. So today after Zola went to work and Kayla was at school, I sneaked back to the house and I searched Kayla's room. She has this little passbook savings account with me as her co-signer. But where does she keep the passbook? So I dug through the stuff in her drawers, her closets. Can you imagine this?"
Roman's mouth opened. Better than you know, he thought. But Morson went on quickly, "I found her secret things. They were under the bed, in this cigar box she had covered on top with a piece of paper. You wouldn't believe this knowing how sweet Kayla is, what a good girl. The box was labeled with a purple marker fuck with kayla and you die. Here she's a good little student, all As or Bs, never given anybody whatsoever any trouble in her life before. So this tough little message ... I mean . . ."
Morson stopped and drank some coffee.
"It got to you," said Roman.
"Yeah," said Morson. "Anyway, I took the passbook. Withdrew two hundred and eighteen dollars worth of baby-sitting money."
Roman nodded, poured another coffee for himself and stirred in three creamers. And yet, he thought. Here is a man for whom people will give a surprise party. Roman tapped the sugar packets, drank the rest of the coffee, put the money down on top of the check.
"I have to get out of here," he said to Morson, who stared at him for a moment, then widened his eyes and broke the look off with a cunning little grin.
T.J. Morson followed Roman out the door of the cafe. On the way past the banks of moving lights and bells and trilling knockers, he said, "C'mon. I hit, we'll split."
Roman kept walking. Morson grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. "Please," he said. Roman started at the sight of him. Morson's eyes were rolled back so the whites showed. His lips were drawn away from his gums in a guilty snarl. Roman felt in his pocket, flipped out a quarter. Morson opened the hand that held the car keys. Roman took the keys and gave the quarter to Morson, who played it. The two men watched the rolling tabs of symbols spin over and over, whirling, clicking into place in a disparate row.
"Okay, you satisfied?" said Roman.
Morson wiped his hands slowly on his hips and then followed Roman out the doors, across the gleaming, wet parking lot, over to the Cherokee. Roman still had the keys. He opened the doors and got into the driver's side. Passive, concentrating on something invisible just before him, Morson got into the passenger's seat and shut his eyes. But suddenly, as Roman pulled out of the parking space onto the highway, Morson mumbled "thanks anyway," and opened his door to jump out. Roman managed to hook his hand in the collar of Morson's slippery jacket, and as he brought the car to a halt on the shoulder, he yanked the man back toward him with such surprising force that Morson's face smashed into the side of the steering wheel. There was an instant and surprising amount of blood.
"Don't worry," said Morson, his nose behind his hands, "I get these things real bad." There was a girl's striped knit stocking cap in his door's side pocket. Morson grabbed it and put it to his face. Then he said, "look, I'll just go clean up." He jumped out the door with the cap on his face, and was gone.
Roman pulled ahead about thirty feet into a blind driveway and shut off the engine. He found the lever next to the seat that dropped it backwards a few inches. He rested. A peaceful energy flowed through him. He nearly slept. Fifteen minutes, then half an hour passed. Traffic flowed by, snarled behind him, flowed again. A few people crossed before him at the far edge of an overflow lot. They swiftly entered their cars and drove away. Roman dozed another ten minutes and then he suddenly snapped to. He started the car and drove off.
As he pulled back onto the highway a screeching ambulance barreled past. The casino was filled with Senior Citizens and Roman imagined a whole scenario--a big payout, an old man elated, then clutching at his heart. This fantasy gave him the idea, as he drove toward Morson's house, of something he could say to get Morson off the hook. It wasn't that he liked Morson, but his friends were so eager, so well-meaning. It wasn't right to disappoint them. Things were going to be so bad with Morson that there was no way to make them worse. Roman decided he would announce that Morson was dead. He'd use that same scenario--payout, heart attack--and then while the pandemonium of reaction occurred he'd simply disappear. When Morson finally did show up his being broke would not be quite as bad, at least, as being dead. Roman's lie would confuse the issue, muddy the waters, give Zola and the others a pause before they condemned. There seemed no harm in it as far as Roman could see, considering what Zola and Kayla were in for anyway. At least they would have the joy of having their worst fears reversed!
Roman arrived at the house and parked in the driveway--still empty in order to fool Morson into thinking that the house was deserted. Yet all the lights were on. The little house was blazing. Roman walked up the steps and then tentatively eased the door open and poked his head around the side. He remembered to set his features in a look of tragic concern. He nearly jumped back out. All of the people he'd met before were standing or sitting at attention in the living room. They returned his look with identical stares.
"We know already," said the terse old lady who'd been drinking strawberry wine coolers. "He had his I.D. right on him, phone number. Kyle took Zola to the emergency room. Zola just called two seconds ago."
"Come on in," said Buzz. "Take a load off. I'll get you a beer. In fact," he said, "let's eat. It's some kind of custom that we all should eat together at a time like this."
Roman sat down on one end of the couch, leaned back into a stiff pillow. He looked down at his knees, then accepted a bowl of bean soup when it appeared in his line of vision. The bowl was warm and pleasant in his hands.
"They told Zola that he'd crossed the casino's main intersection, running. What is that, two lanes? Not so far, really."
"Four lanes," said Roman.
"Oh," said someone, "then."
"Zola said he was not quite DOA," said Buss, "but next thing to it. There just wasn't a thing they could do."
Now the others had bowls of soup, and bread, and were busily arranging themselves, patting napkins onto their knees, balancing coffee cups, offering butter around the group.
"We shouldn't eat the cake."
"I agree," said Willa. "We should have his cake at the funeral dinner."
"Are you going to go?" She addressed Roman. He looked at her. "It can't be true!"
Willa apologized. "I've never been much for denial. I go straight to acceptance. That's just me."
"You don't need to think that far ahead," said Buzz. He touched Roman's arm. "In fact, don't think ahead at all." Buzz put down his bowl of soup and sank forward, elbows on his knees. He cupped his hands over his head and leaned over like someone about to be sick. He stayed that way, motionless. Willa put her hand on his back and patted him with slow, regular beats. She looked over at Roman.
"Go on, eat your soup," she whispered. "It's okay."
Roman placed a spoonful of the soup in his mouth. A moment passed before he realized that the taste was unusually good. Something gave depth to the taste. Roman looked at Buzz, still hunched over. His specialty, he remembered. Maybe Buzz simmered his beans with garlic, or wine, or some kind of herb. Maybe it was the sorrow, or the strangeness. Perhaps Buzz had added a few drops from a vial of Liquid Smoke. Then again a ham bone. Or the fact that these beans were all different types. Roman finished the bowl and put it down.
"You want another?" said Willa.
"It's good," Roman nodded.
She got up to refill the bowl and Roman took over patting Buzz on the back, slow and regular, two or three pats to each of his sighing breaths. He kept feeling the wrench when he'd pulled Morson toward him, in the car, the way Morson had twisted, striking the bridge of his nose. There was the weight of Morson off balance, in his arms, the smell of his hair tonic, aftershave, and the smoke of the casino and the coffee on his breath.
Now here he was eating Morson's bean soup with Morson's friends and no doubt in two or three days he would be tasting Morson's cake. Roman shut his eyes. His thoughts flickered.
"I'll be right back."
He set the beer down, got up, walked down the hall just like an old friend who knew the place. He opened the door to Kayla's room, walked in, shut the door behind him and knelt on the floor beside her bed. Reaching underneath, he groped for and found the box that he could see, once he turned on her little homework lamp, was indeed labeled fuck with kayla and you die. He handled it carefully. You shouldn't have fucked with Kayla. Psychic time bomb for the girl, though, wasn't it? Morson had replaced her little passbook. Roman flipped to the last page, then tore out a deposit slip. Same bank as his. Anyone could make a transfer, he supposed. He put the passbook back, lay the cigar box on the floor and snapped the sides flat. Then he slipped the box back underneath the bed. He walked back to the living room, passed behind an intense discussion of who should go now to the hospital, who was needed, what arrangements. In the kitchen, he paused at the sink for a drink of warmish, chemical-tasting suburb water. He set the keys to the Cherokee on the counter. Then he slipped out the back door.

Jimmy's Top 10 Fun but Never Ever Forgotten Arcade Standards!
Do you bear in mind Mr. Do, Mr. Do's Castle, Bomb Jack, Super Pac-Man as well as more?
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This time, I found several video games that probably many of you arcade players delighted in having fun, however, had either failed to remember concerning or have actually been looing for but can not find a high quality used arcade game worth buying. With that being said, the listing of games within the short article are already consisted of in practically all our multigame arcade game machines, significance, our product arcade game line names, "Timeless Arcade System.!".
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1. Super Pac-Man.

Super Pac-Man is the 4th entry in the Pac-Man collection of video games, launched in arcades in Japan on August 11, 1982 and North America on October 1, 1982. The third as well as 2nd games-- Ms. Pac-Man and also Pac-Man And also, both from earlier in the year-- were developed by Midway Games in the US without Namco's involvement, making Super Pac-Man the first official sequel.
Earlier Pac-Man arcade machines utilize Zilog Z80 processors. Super Pac-Man is the very first in the collection based upon the Motorola 6809.
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Noise and gameplay mechanics were transformed radically from the initial 2 entries into the Pac-Man collection-- rather of consuming dots, the player is called for to eat tricks in order to open up doors, which open up areas of the puzzle that contain what in earlier games were known as "fruits" (foods such as apples and also bananas, or various other rewards such as Galaxian flagships), which are now the standard things that should be cleared. In earlier levels, secrets open nearby doors, while as the gamer advances with the degrees, it is much more usual for keys to open far doors.
Along with the original power pellets which permit Pac-Man to consume the ghosts, two "Super" pellets are readily available and also will certainly turn Pac-Man into Super Pac-Man momentarily. In this form, he comes to be much larger, can move with enhanced rate when the "Super Speed" switch is held back and might penetrate doors without unlocking them. He is additionally invulnerable to the ghosts, who show up thin and flat to provide the illusion of Super Pac-Man "flying" over them. He still can not eat them without the help of the original power-up. When Super Pac-Man is about to change to regular Pac-Man, he flashes white. The Superpower can then be prolonged by eating a power pellet or extremely pellet, if readily available.

1. Mr. Do.

Mr. Do! is a puzzle video game produced by Universal as well as released in arcades in 1982. The initial game in the Mr. Do series, it was just one of the first arcade games to be launched as a conversion package (by Taito), and took place to sell 30,000 devices in the United States.
The object of Mr. Do! is to score as numerous factors as possible by digging passages via the ground as well as gathering cherries. The title character, Mr. Do (a circus clown-- except for the initial Japanese version of the game, in which he is a snowman), is frequently chased by red monsters called creeps, and also the gamer sheds a life if Mr. Do is caught by one. The game mores than when the last life is lost.
Cherries are dispersed throughout the level in groups of 8. 500 bonus points are awarded if Mr. Do gathers eight cherries straight without stopping. A degree is total either when all cherries are gotten rid of, all creeps are damaged, "ADDITIONAL" is meant, or a diamond is located.
Mr. Do can beat creeps by hitting them with his bouncing "power round" or by going down big apples on them. While the power round is bouncing towards a creep, Mr. Do is defenseless. If the ball bounces into a location where there are no creeps to hit (such as behind a dropped apple), Mr. Do can not use it once more until he has gotten it. When the power sphere hits a creep, it after that reforms in Mr. Do's hands after a delay that enhances with each use.
Mr. Do or the creeps can push an apple off the side of an upright tunnel and crush one or more creeps. If an apple drops greater than its very own elevation, it vanishes as well as breaks. Mr. Do can additionally be squashed by a falling apple causing a death.
Occasionally, the creeps change briefly right into even more powerful various colored monsters that can passage via the ground. If one of these digs through a cherry, it leaves fewer cherries (as well as less points) for Mr. Do to gather. It commonly crushes itself, other creeps, and/or Mr. Do when it digs under an apple.
Each time ball game passes a certain threshold throughout play (5000 points), a letter from the word "BONUS" appears on the playfield as an Alphamonster, and also the player can beat or be beat by this beast in the same way as a creep. Defeating an Alphamonster awards that letter to the gamer and collecting all five letters of the word finishes the level, goes to a cut scene playing the motif to Astro Kid, and also grants the player an added life. Alphamonsters attempt to eat any apples they run into, which makes them difficult (yet not impossible) to crush.
The creeps spawn at the center of the screen. After they have all showed up, the generator will certainly develop into a food product; selecting this up scores bonus points, ices up all the creeps, and also calls out an Alphamonster and also three big blue monsters. The latter can consume apples also. The creeps remain frozen (however still harmful) till the gamer either beats all 3 blue monsters, defeats the Alphamonster (in which instance any remaining blue monsters are developed into apples), loses a life, or finishes the stage.
Seldom, going down an apple will certainly expose a ruby which, if gathered within regarding 15 secs, finishes the degree and also awards a bonus offer credit to the gamer (in addition to 8000 points), enabling him or her to play a totally free game.

1. Mr. Do's Castle.

Mr. Do's Castle is a video game launched in arcades by Universal in September 1983. It is the second of the Mr. Do collection of video games, although it wasn't meant to be. It began as a game called Knights vs. Unicorns, but the U.S. department of Universal convinced the Japanese arm to customize the graphics into a Mr. Do!
Gameplay:.
The game takes place in a castle filled up with platforms and also ladders, some of which can be flipped from one platform to another. The game developments to the following degree when all cherries on the level have actually been gathered or all opponents have actually been defeated. The gamer sheds a life if Mr. Do is captured by a monster, as well as the game ends when the gamer runs out of lives.
As in Mr. Do! the gamer can make an extra life by gathering all the letters from words "EXTRA". Routine monsters can be changed into monsters birthing the ADDED letters by gathering all three keys dispersed around the playfield and afterwards grabbing a magic guard from the top flooring. Beasts in this state are simpler to defeat than regular; a basic hammer strike will certainly get the job done. After a short period, they change back into their regular kinds. The game additionally offers a bonus offer debt for accumulating an uncommon ruby that shows up on the playfield at random intervals.
The cherry blocks are absent from Mr. Do Vs. Unicorns and also early alterations of Mr. Do's Castle. Instead, obstructs that are not keys or heads at the start of a phase will certainly be fill blocks (those left behind when unicorns come under holes and are laid off for a time). As a result of this, there are just three methods to finish a degree in this variation, versus the four methods to total levels in Mr. Do's Castle. On top of that, in these early alterations, the fill obstructs change shades every 2 phases.

1. Mr. Do's Wild Ride.

Mr. Do's circumstance is a roller rollercoaster, as well as the things is to reach the top. As the automobiles (and eventually various other items) rate around the track, the gamer needs to get away by utilizing an incredibly rate button, or by going up little ladders spread about the track to evade the threats. 2 symbols at the end of the degree variety from cakes to ADDED letters or diamonds change upon gathering cherries at the top of each letter. The game is timed, and also the timer ticks quicker when the very rate button is held back. Crash with a roller rollercoaster auto or an additional object is deadly, knocking Mr. Do! off the rollercoaster as well as setting you back a life.
After the 6th degree is completed, the game cycles back to the very first with numerous barriers and/or more roller coaster autos to prevent.

1. Bomb Jack.

Bomb Jack is a platform game launched in arcades in 1984 by Tehkan (later referred to as Tecmo). It was adhered to by two official sequels, the console as well as computer system title Mighty Bomb Jack, as well as the arcade game Bomb Jack Twin as well as Bomb Jack II, which was accredited for personal computer just.
Gameplay:.
The game's antagonists are enemies such as birds and also mummies which, once they go down in the bottom of the screen, can morph right into points like flying saucers and also orbs that drift around the display, making Jack shed a life if he touches them. Other comparable rewards are the B (Incentive) which raises the score multiplier (up to 5x), the E (Extra) which provides an added life, and the unusual S (Special), which grants a totally free game. There are 5 various displays in the game, each including a distinctive plan of systems (the fifth has no platforms at all).

1. My Hero.

My Hero (Seishun Rumor in Japan) is a side-scrolling beat 'em up released by Sega by means of arcade in 1985 and also for the Master System in 1986.
The arcade variation consists of three various levels, each continuing in a countless loophole up until the player runs out of lives. It starts out with the gamer personality (named Steven according to the arcade leaflet, Takeshi in Japan) on a city street enjoying as a street ruffian runs off with his partner (called Remy, additionally according to the arcade flyer, Mari in Japan). This same procedure repeats for the rest of the game, only with 2 other managers as well as stage designs.
Due to area limitations on the Sega Card, the Sega Master System port just includes the street gang in 3 stages that enter a continual loophole up until the player sheds all lives and also obtains a game over. The ninjas and also the ape/human enemies from the arcade variation are omitted.

1. Woman Bug.

Lady Insect is an insect-themed maze chase video game generated by Universal Entertainment Corporation as well as launched in arcades in 1981. Its gameplay is like Pac-Man, with the primary addition to the formula being entrances that alter the format of the labyrinth when used. The arcade original was fairly unknown, yet the game located bigger recognition as well as success as a launch title for the ColecoVision console.
Gameplay:.
The goal of Girl Bug is to eat all "flowers," hearts, and also letters in the maze while preventing other pests. The gamer is represented by a red, yellow, and also green personality looking like a ladybug while the adversary insects' appearance varies by degree. The border of the labyrinth functions as timer, with each circuit signifying the launch of an adversary pest from the central location, as much as (normally) an optimum of 4. The rate of the circuit raises on stages 2 as well as 5.
There are 8 different enemy insects-- a various pest is presented on each of the first eight levels. Beginning on level 9, each degree has four different opponents.
Unlike Pac-Man, the player can change the design of the maze by shifting any one of the twenty environment-friendly gateways. It is not possible to totally isolate a portion of the labyrinth via gate changing.
When the fourth opponent pest goes into the puzzle, the central area will certainly show a level-specific vegetable. Eating a veggie offers the gamer reward factors as well as incapacitates the opponent pests for several secs, though touching them is still lethal. The arbitrarily put skull icons are deadly to ladybugs as well as enemy bugs. An opponent bug who dies returns to the central area. When a vegetable is consumed, the central area will remain empty unless an adversary pest dies and also is re-released, revealing a new vegetable. A ladybug who dies will certainly shrink from view as well as be quickly replaced with symbols appearing like the stereotypical wings as well as halo of an angel.
The colors of the hearts and letters cycle through a brief red, a middling yellow, and a longer blue. The factor worths are as complies with:.
Flower: 10 factors (20, 30, or 50 factors with appropriate multiplier).
Blue letteheart: 100 points (200, 300, or 500 points with ideal multiplier).
Yellow letteheart: 300 factors (600, 900, or 1500 points with proper multiplier).
Red letteheart: 800 points (1600, 2400, or 4000 points with proper multiplier).
Vegetable: Begins at 1000 factors, rises by 500 with each degree to an optimum of 9500 points on degree 18. Yet level, the veggie's appearance (horseradish) and also point worth continue to be fixed.
If a heart is consumed while it is blue, a point multiplier will certainly enter into effect, indicated by the blue section in the top right corner of the screen. The very first blue heart doubles all factor values, the 2nd triples them and the third quintuples them. This multiplier lasts till the level is complete. Eating hearts while they are red or yellow offers no advantage past the points gathered.
At each level, the puzzle will certainly consist of three letters. The initial will be randomly chosen from the collection of X, T, R (which show up only in EXTRA), the 2nd will be randomly picked from the set of (which appear only in SPECIAL), as well as the 3rd will be an A or an E (which appear in both words). An additional goal of the player is to complete the words UNIQUE (indicated in red in the top left edge) and BONUS (in yellow at top center). If, as an example, a letter S is eaten while it is red, the corresponding letter in the word SPECIAL will transform from grey to red. Consuming an S while it is any other color (or if the S in SPECIAL is already red) offers no advantage beyond the points gathered. Finishing the word SPECIAL rewards, the gamer with a complimentary game, while finishing BONUS provides the player an added life. Completing either word causes all its letters to return to normal as well as immediately advances the player to the next level.
The veggies associated with the first 18 degrees and also their equivalent factor values are: 1 - cucumber (1000 ), 2 - eggplant (1500 ), 3 - carrot (2000 ), 4 - radish (2500 ), 5 - parsley (3000 ), 6 - tomato (3500 ), 7 - pumpkin (4000 ), 8 - bamboo shoot (4500 ), 9 - Japanese radish (5000 ), 10 - mushroom (5500 ), 11 - potato (6000 ), 12 - onion (6500 ), 13 - Chinese cabbage (7000 ), 14 - turnip (7500 ), 15 - red peper (8000) [note that the name is misspelled in the game], 16 - celery (8500 ), 17 - wonderful potato (9000 ), 18 - horseradish (9500 ).
The tune that plays when a new Girl Insect enters the labyrinth is a fragment of a tune called "Ladybug Samba".

1. Baraduke.

Baraduke, also called Alien Market, is a scrolling shooter arcade game originally launched by Namco in 1985.
The player takes control of a spacewoman in a biohazard match, Gamer 1 is Kissy and Player 2 is Takky. They have to clear 8 worlds of raising trouble (each one is composed of five regular floorings and one boss flooring) by utilizing their wave guns to damage all the enemies inhabiting them. They need to also save the one-eyed Paccets for added factors and the opportunity to make another guard in the end-of-floor perk games.
On each floor there are a certain variety of opponents known as Octy, which will leave power-up pills behind when defeated. Defeating all the Octy on the present flooring will open up a pipe at the end of the flooring, and the player will have to find as well as enter it to continue to the following one. The one in charge floors include a large enemy (a Blue Worm in Globes 1, 3, 5 as well as 7, a Turning Eye in Worlds 2, 4 and also 6, and also the Octy King himself in World 8) that must be killed in order to proceed to the next world.

1. Choplifter.

Choplifter (elegant as Choplifter!) is military themed scrolling shooter created by Dan Gorlin for the Apple II as well as released by Broderbund in 1982. It was ported to Atari 5200, Atari 8-bit family, ColecoVision, Commodore 64, VIC-20, MSX, and Thomson computers. Graphically enhanced versions for the Atari 8-bit family members and Atari 7800 were released in 1988 by Atari Firm.
In 1985, Sega released a coin-operated arcade remake, which subsequently was ported to the Famicom and also Master System in 1986. Choplifter is just one of minority games that initially appeared on a house system as well as was ported to the arcade.
10.P-47.
P47 Thunderbolt (called P-47: The Freedom Fighter in Japan) is a shoot 'em up game developed by NMK and also Jaleco. It was launched in the Arcades in 1988 as well as ported to many house systems. It was adhered to by P-47 Aces in 1995.
Gameplay:.
The game takes place in World Battle II and also the gameplay is basic. The player should make use of the ideal tool to fight an employer or go with a phase.
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
This section is a bit erratic as I had to jump around a lot and it may not flow well. I almost didnt post it and instead did a short version, but it did the story no justice imo. The tail off in these posts are going to end with a lot of self reflection and things I have learned through all of this. I hope to keep the remainder to less than 3-4 parts but could genuinely make it 30-40 if I wanted to. This part (the bulk of it) is going to cover the least amount of actual time but its a pretty important juncture in my life.
I am about 3-4 weeks clean of opiates but I am still withdrawing badly, though no where near as bad as I was early on it was still bad. Could not sleep was always sore and achey sneezy runny nose etc etc. They say a month is what it takes to cold turkey but I was taking so much that it wasnt pacing well. One thing I realize in my current day and I will probably elaborate on it more later but taking oxy or opiates was only about the high for a month or two in the beginning. If you know anyone who struggles with it they arent taking it to get high, they are taking it to not hurt, taking it just to feel normal. Opiates are so unbelievably addicting its mind boggling to me. They are the most evil thing I have ever encountered.
I am driving to go play as I am trying to start playing live for income and I reach into my center console to grab some aspirin (it kinda helped the joint pain and physical pain of the withdraw) and I dump a few aspirin out and a little blue/green pill falls into my hand. As it turns out there were three 30s in that bottle. I remember this so vividly. I havent had an ounce of opiates since WSOP. Im 2-3 weeks from being clean of withdrawal and the worst is behind me, and I stumble onto these. I clench them in my hands for the rest of the drive to the casino. I even call my dad to tell him to try and get motivation to rid of them. He told me to throw them out the window obviously. Its why they were clenched in my hand. I rolled down the window and just hang my hand unable to open it. I cant bring myself to get rid of them. I remember laughing at it. A weird thing about being on oxy/heroin then getting clean is the emotions, despite being in pain from withdrawal I was laughing again, I hadnt laughed in a while. Emotions are strong when you havent felt them in a long time, whether it be anger or joy or sadness it is overwhelming. Anyhow I convince myself that I can handle doing 3 more and be fine. So I crush one up and blow it. I go into the casino to play, and within an hour I am getting the other two crushed up. My tolerance was still sky high even after a month roughly. I blow all 3 in an hour and play for a couple hours and leave once they wear off, withdrawals end up increasing a bit and now I am just wanting some hydrocodone to make the withdrawal go away.
So now I break my 3-4 weeks clean (immediately following WSOP) and buy some loritabs. These just took the pain away. There was no high from them but it took a lot to make the pain go away, was taking 3 10s at a time 5-6 times I day. Ashamedly I was actually snorting these too :/ which is a lot of powder and aspirin.
My body has been waking up from not having oxy. What I mean is oxy numbs you physically and mentally. You could jerk off for 3 hours and make your dick bleed but you wont get off. Youre emotionally and physically numb. So my sex drive is coming back. I have about 6k to my name. I am playing cards one day and I just snap. I lose it. I cant handle the monotonous live game. Not to mention I was playing 1-2nl as thats what was available in Tulsa outside of weekend nights and a scheduled big game.
So I text a girl I messed around with before oxy. I havent talked to her in 18 months she had no clue I was even doing oxy but I still remember the text I sent (for the most part)
I sent her a text asking her if she wanted to go on a mini road trip. (Im absurdly blunt and overly analytical and it hurts me with women) She asked to where and I responded by jokingly saying theres a good satanic cult meet up in Kansas. A few messages exchange and I tell her to just pack a bag and I will be there in an hour. She agrees. I run home and pack myself a bag. I go to pick her up and shes having second thoughts and I convince her once again. We go to the airport (yea its changed to flying somewhere) with intention of taking the next flight out to anywhere really. Well Tulsa has few options so we have to go to Dallas and we will assess from there. I only have cash mind you and they rape you for buying cash. We get to Dallas and its either Vegas or Orlando. Vegas it is. We get to Vegas and I we have no reservation so we go to Caesars (decent rooms much cheaper than Bellagio etc) and all they have are Junior Suites. Fuck it give me two nights (its a Friday and were going back Sunday because she works Monday) at 650 a night. Then we eat a couple nice meals and money already running thin.
Now, I am supposed to be having fun on this trip. I like this girl actually, shes a great girl. However what I have yet to mention is when I ran home and packed my bag I left my bottle of hydrocodones... every passing hour after flying to Dallas I am further into withdrawal. I end up drinking most of the trip. I have the shits. Im sneezing. Im paranoid and over analytical and it just made an awful trip.
At one point on that Saturday night she gets frustrated and cries and tells me “I like love you _, but this _” the first __ is my name, the second I dont remember. I basically just got hit with the first part and I actually cry, standing in front of the Bellagio fountains. It was a combination of frustration with life having gone broke, opiate withdrawals, was drunk trying to mask withdrawals and that aided it and lastly hearing her say that just hurt me because I had clearly hurt her. I had messed with her 18+ months ago but was always playing cards never really made any efforts, essentially unavailable emotionally. Then I take her to Vegas and I am drinking and so fucking paranoid to fool around with her cause I am withdrawing and will blow a load in seconds or wtf ever else. Those words hit me hard though. I am too dumb to know that she felt that way. That is pretty much my assessment of that and a common theme with women for me. I do not pick up on subtle cues very well, and I am so analytical that any cues I do pick up I find a way to chalk it up to something else.
She was angry the rest of the trip and I never once talked to her again. I tried once but its irrelevant. I am in my early 30s and have never had a serious relationship in my life, thanks to poker and drugs. Honestly I think poker is the biggest reason. At the end of the day when you first start playing poker it is an addiction. I at one time in my life was a poker addict (spoiler alert I still play) and it consumed me. Time away from poker was spent altering my mind. I never was available to anyone. Before I played poker I had normal encounters with women. The longer I played the worse I became.
Ok I will try to rev this up a bit, those two or three months I reflect on a lot though. I think about her occasionally and had even meant to tell her this stuff at one time but never did (shes still unaware of everything outside of the shutdown breaking me, and that was more me than the shutdown).
So part 6 ended with me selling my truck. This actually happens now. I get home from Vegas with her and have relief with hydrocodones. I shatter my relationship with her, and actually one with a good friend who had owed me money and I had him run his card for my flights from Dallas to Vegas to save like 2000$ and made the mistake of saying I will write his debt off which was 3x what the flights cost. In fairness he used a company card, I agreed to terms and failed them. He was a very good friend to me and I have never talked to him since either. Partly because he is kind of a psycho (I say this kindly, hes just good friend or a bad enemy, not much in between) and told me if I ever see him I should turn around and run (to this day if I see him I would be tempted to do so, the guys a brute, hits harder than anyone I know, and I could write several pages of stories about him, I have seen him shatter the front window of a brand new corvette with a punch, not joking, shattered not cracked, be it a fluke or not I saw it, was in 2010 sometime, he went to jail obviously, quite the ramble on this but am tempted to share the story as its something out of a movie)
Fuck it. Short version.
At a bar 2010 with him his roommate and one of my friends in Dallas where he lived and we were visiting. His roommate walks over to a table of girls to hit on them and comes back saying her brother is mad. His roommates back turned to the table, my friend Joey is facing that table. The brother starts walking towards us angrily as Joey watches. This guy has 40lbs on Joey, but Joey is a freak of nature.
Once in range Joey swings and lays this guy out cold. Bar fight ensues. Joey breaks another guys jaw and has the original guy knocked out and the first guy in torn up. Theres a pile of security and shit with Joey on the bottom. It gets split up (Joey never got hit somehow, or had no bruises) and the bouncers are taking him outside. On the way outside with bouncers routing him by pushing him in front he bumps a table. Asshat hero at the table with two guys two gals says “hey buddy watch the table”. Joey breaks his right arm free and swings around his body (guys on his left) and literally knocks this guy on his back while still in his chair. Basically got a wind up and a 180 degree turn for that punch.
Outside they push him off and tell him to get the fuck out of here (cops are called already, I am not sure why they didnt try to detain him tbh, he fucked 3 guys up at this point) so Joey being Joey he kicks a potted plant over walks out towards his car to drive off and on the way to his car hes walking between two cars, one of which is this brand new 2011 Camaro and he just shatters the window... hits it dead center and fucking shatters it. Cops arrive pretty quickly and scoop him up.
One of the guys had his jaw wired shut and one needed reconstructive surgery on his nose if I remember right. The third guy got out good I guess. There was a fuck load of blood though.
Ok back to my shit. Had to tell that though, its a nuts story that doesnt even sound real. I wouldnt believe it from an anonymous source either, its ok.
As 2011 wears on I am losing control further. I end up having to move out of the house I dump like 40k into (while my sister refuses to show me any of the note progress and its now her house again, though she loses it eventually)
I have nowhere to go basically. My parents wont let me come if I am doing opiates. So I end up staying with a friend in Joplin MO. I am unable to stay afloat on pills and poker. I go busto a few times. Random money would arrive to me from old carbon checks to Stars paying out to running ok on TruePoker (kept a 10-15k roll alive long enough to do opiates for a couple months) but I am bouncing from hydros to oxycontin back and forth, running out quite often.
I end up in a methadone clinic early 2012 and eventually quit doing the pills. I am beyond depressed, barely leaving the room I had at my friends house. I am sure I laid in bed for 7 days straight a time or two. I pay him no rent and have to borrow money for my clinic trips. He had the house for free via a mutual friend though. Once my True account ran out I go on poker hiatus.
From 2012 to 2014ish I play essentially no poker aside from a few hands on Intertops from left over cake money. Which I bust eventually.
One isolated poker story from this stretch goes as such. I am staying at a hotel my grandfather (poker one) owns in a small town in NE Oklahoma. Hes letting me stay in one of the cabins on the property. I drive 45 minutes 3-4 days a week to get methadone here. I am depressed have no job and hustle money somehow. I dont even know where it came from but I would stumble onto a thousand here and there.
Tulsa is having tourneys one weekend. So I go play this 350$ two day. I forget the guarantee (it wasnt wsop or wpt it was local) but I think its 100k. It is one of the two or three times I enter a casino over these two years but I bag day one and day two goes well and we end up chopping it 3-4 ways with me and another guy taking two best spots at 15-16k. I remember zero hands from this tourney.
I go back to the cabin I was staying in. I have 15-16k now. I remember being alleviated about having money. I hadnt held 10,000$ in 12-18 months. I dont play a single hand of poker with it. It was so calming to have this money, I was content and didnt want to lose a dime of it. I did buy some oxy with it despite being on methadone and it doing nothing basically. This actually all happened before moving to Joplin, so it is chronologically wrong here. I slowly bleed this money off over a couple months. I just remember the contention I had for having it.
I get accustomed to methadone eventually and move back to Tulsa with another friend. I get a normal job slinging Pizzas at Papa Johns and fucking hate it. What an awful company, they make good pizza (for chain) but they are a joke to work for. Tip those drivers well, they make shit and get (at the time) 50 cents a delivery. PJs charges people 3$ and gives 50 cents to the driver...
Later on I have a buddy who deals circuit events and I get him to help me get hired. He gets me on under the assumption I have dealt before, I have not. I have dealt at my home games back in the day a time or two, I ended up being fine. I deal an event in St Louis then am trying to get set up for Tunica, buuuut I have a felony from when I was 18 (pre poker, never told story but long story short I got B&E charges for getting into a bunch of unlocked cars) and that ends my dealing career. So I move back home as the friend I was sharing a place with in Tulsa was on methadone and genuinely the dumbest guy I know. He was a highschool friend who I partied with a long time, but he ended up fucking me out of rent and didnt pay (just kept my money) and we get evicted.
Side note to the dealing job I had. I did play some poker in St Louis because the stop was so slow. I ended up making like 800$ dealing and 2k playing 1-2nlh while there. I play no poker when returning though, once again content to have any money at all.
I am still on methadone which my parents hate me being on it for obvious reasons. I get a job near them at a mushroom farm doing manual labor. I needed the exercise. Then get hired on to work in a warehouse driving a forklift for dick money. I do this for 6~ months or so.
I will do the next part picking up here. I make an unusual style return to poker. It is a great story imo and things get more positive.