This beauty, published on November 21, 2011, was as published on that crazy Royal Flusher's Fortieth Las Vegas Trip. And now it's a Top Ten Post contender.
Now. Ask me who's your Daddy?
Now. Ask me who's your Daddy?
I had $4 in my wallet from scratch cards, and that was all I had, I was so broke. So, I bought a Keno ticket for four games and sat at the machine on the end where I could see the Keno board.
When you have stooped to relying on Keno for a bolt-of-lightning win, you are pretty much a degenerate gambler. If I'd had a fifth dollar I would have gone and bought some moonshine cough syrup off the bootlegger on the corner.
If you're expecting some amazing win about now, forget about it. As with most longshots, this ended with a flatline whimper.
...the Cavalry rode in, in the form of Mrs. F handing me - well, lending me - a benjamin to play with. I felt like a just-bailed-out Eurozone country. I deftly slipped that hundy into the machine and chose my weapon... in this case, super volatile Super Double Double Bonus.
SDDP pays only 1 coin for two pair instead of the usual 2, and the full house and straights are shorted as well, all this to fund the cornucopia of premium quads that are available. Stuff like getting four Jacks, Queens, or Kings with another Jack, Queen or King and you get 800 coins. That's a sweet $200 to a guy like me who's playing quarters.
All I know is, I needed premium quads to get back in the game and I needed them now.
I pounded the Max Credits button and started in. And I played like the wind, deftly holding cards, deftly hitting Draw, deftly watching my credits drain away.
Deftly I held a pair of fours, which was nothing particularly unusual, and deftly my eyeballs scanned the images being beamed into them with laser-like precision from the gambling console in front of me. Deftly I held draw and the cards I deftly needed deftly fell right into fucking place. Another couple of fours!
Deftly I noticed that I had not got a kicker, but I had won $100, so I deftly cried tears of deft joy until they were deftly running down my deft cheeks. (That's upper cheeks, perv!)
Things started to happen for us around then, because Mrs. Flusher answered with not one, but two Pick'Em quads, each worth $150. Very timely, because you can go through a lot of credits playing hours of Pick'Em, listening to annoying women on the public address system, being emotionally damaged by witnessing the ethnic cleansing of the canine race from the casino, and getting hammered on the ersatz Crown Royal they pour for drinks ordered from the casino floor.
|Ersatz Crown Royal|
I don't know why I do this, we've been through it a thousand times and it always ends the same way.
"Ask me who's your daddy", she responded.
"No, Ask me who's your daddy."
"Ask me who's your daddy," she responded.
"No, I'm not telling you to say the words 'ask me who's your daddy', I'm telling you to ask me the question 'who's your daddy'. Now. Ask me who's your daddy."
"I'm not doing this again, stop asking me that, we've been through this a thousand times."
"I know, but I am giving a command to ask a question, and you are just repeating what I say."
"Ask me who's your daddy."
"NO NO NO! Look, if I said to you... I want you to ask me a question. Let's say you want to know what time it is. And I say, Mrs. Flusher, I want YOU to ask ME the question, what time is it - what words would you say to me to ask me that question?"
"It's 6:30. Now SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DEAL."
I kept playing.
And things were really going nicely, I was floating along, not losing too much, enjoying life again. There's no dramatic way to say it, I held a couple of Aces and was gobsmacked to see the other two of 'em, PLUS the kicker, pop up.
A swift, and much needed $500 win, and just like that I was back! In fact, up a little bit - $115 - on the day, and beating the casinos!
After this marathon 3 hour session we cashed out and headed upstairs at the Fitz to enjoy their Flusher-legendary freshly made 'The Colonel can go fuck himself, this is the best fried chicken I've ever tasted' fried chicken.
Hmmm, now that I think about it, Du-Par's specialty should be renamed the 'Aunt Jemima can go fuck herself' pancakes.
We bought some Keno tickets to watch while we ate, and hit up the bar for a few rounds and some quick VP and then headed back to our table just as the steaming, juicy, deep fried chicken arrived. It was fabulous as usual and didn't cost a dime - we used two of our FREE MEAT for four-of-a-kind coupons for the meal.
|'The Colonel can go fuck himself, this is the best fried chicken I've ever tasted' fried chicken|
In spite of the big video poker hands we'd had, Mrs. F didn't feel she was doing too well this day. But she didn't really know exactly how much she was down.
And in fact, the planned marathon of high stakes play on her birthday had been postponed due to her luck not being good. Maybe this was wise.
Just before retiring, she decided she better do at least some high stakes play and opted for $100 in a $2 machine - $10 a hand video poker. The woman got on a really nice little run, hitting some fulls house, and some straights straight, and ran that sucker up to $300 plus in credits, and then cashed out at an even $300 for a $200 profit. Nicely done.
Back in the room we did the accounting. Without the last win, Mrs. F would have been down over a grand on the day. As it was, she finished down $-820 - the single worst daily loss either of us have ever sustained, I think.
And for myself, I managed a moral victory - an entire day of gambling, drinking, in-bad-taste magazine gifts, and fuck yourself pancakes and chicken - and broke even.
To me, that's a win.