So this morning at 11a.m. I woke to the sound of my laptop playing some weird sports video or something. Like it was basically background noise of a crowd and I knew it had been playing for quite some time because the general din shaped my dreams and for a moment I couldn’t tell whether I was in heaven or hell. The messy tore back shape my room was in with honey roasted peanuts trampled into the carpet as well as at least one grape jelly packet, one ketchup packet and what appeared to be a peanut butter cookie at first only served to augment the belief that I had woken up in hell.
I had to take a piss and I yawned and stretched and swung myself off the bed and began ambling slowly toward the private toilet within the bathroom which is a feature in all deluxe rooms at the Indian casino I had been attempting to outwit for several years. Curled up in a ball amidst all the carnage was my daughter Avondra with her ba ba perched an inch away from her mouth and her tea cup chihuahua nestled in her mullet hairdo. Also present was her grimy blanket. It was rolled up in a ball as usual.
Side note:: it really is true that babies get attached to little grimy disgusting blankets.
Anyhow I saw that Avondra had gotten into my wallet and strewn the contents everywhere, an old trick from when we used to have our own house in Valencia. It always did my heart good to see my shit tossed haphazardly around the place and I usually showed my pleasure at my bubble headed daughters antics by screaming obsenities cheerfully while dancing like a monkey. Today was no different. I was really on my way to starting my day off about as badly as I could imagine as it was and then I picked up my phone and saw a message from my casino hostess Roseangelica with a cryptic 5 word message: You need to call me. This was in place of the usual good morning I extended your room for three days text I usually got from her on days where I was scheduled to check out.
Fearing the worst and actually knowing in your heart that the worst case scenario was a reality feel much the same way. “You have to checkout” the words flew out of her mouth to which I responded with an unseen facegrab and simultaneous groan of misery upon looking around at the tornado stricken disaster that used to be room 8126. Clarice was an unconscious lump in the bed, it was already checkout time, I had no money, we hadn’t packed even one item, we had nowhere to go and we weren’t even close to getting along well and that is under some really favorable conditions. Throw in any one of life’s myriad challenges to our toxic togetherness and you have all the makings of a kick ass party lol. Well maybe not. Hahahahaha.
Fortune favors the bold or so I have been told. Just saying. Well five minutes later when I had just been told that she loved this dirt bag’s cock she fucked several times and that I sucked in bed and I was a small dicked faggot to boot I had second thoughts on whether I had overdone it on the boldness thing when I ripped the covers off of her while screaming, “reveille reveille all hands on deck” at the top of my lungs.
Small dicked faggots don’t have thick 8 inch cocks like I did but compared to the horse cocked freaks she had been fucking since getting started on her “sexual rampage” a couple weeks back I was hung like a church mouse. It probably felt like I was tossing a hotdog down a hallway to her when I had gotten my groove on the night before. Regardless of the fact that she might be the only girl I have ever fucked that thought i had a small dick I was pretty dismayed by her comment.
Things quickly spiraled out of control and ended with both of us looking at each other with daggers in our eyes. Her look told me she was going to be getting stuffed full of loser dick as soon as she got back into Valencia and not just by one dude. Anything to twist the knife in that much deeper. Only a true sap gets sad over a whore and my hurt feeling (yeah that one feeling) quickly repaired itself and now I hope she gets fucked by a busload of sailors freshly back from18 months at sea. That is not false bravado either. Damaged goods are damaged goods and she is not conducive to my gaming lifestyle so au revoire Clarice.
I’m sitting at the high limits bar penniless at the moment but I’ve got a few logs in the fire. And even though I had to check out for one day I will pick myself up lick my wounded pride and start a fresh adventure. Spring is in the air and hope springs eternal.