The Secret Mission

Day 7 Monday February 21, 2023 part 1.

We've gotten into a habit of buying a Keno ticket half an hour before the California's game closes at 10:00pm so we can watch with coffee and tea when it starts up again at 7:00 am.

Screw Disney, this is the happiest place on earth.

It doesn't seem to matter much that our typical return on Keno tickets so far has been as much as 21% on the dollar. Almost as much as my personal stock portfolio "gained", before Jimmy Poon took it over for me.

The Quad Queen was kind of under the weather all morning, and into the afternoon, and that said, the weather outside was frightful, particularly for the tee shirt and shorts set (aka me). There was wind warnings, and even a snow storm warning at altitude. Brrrrr.

I kept myself busy by doing morning things like eating breakfast at the counter at the Cal coffee shop, buying Keno tickets for Mrs. Flusher, and losing $140 in about 9 minutes afterward.

Portuguese Sausage Omelette - pretty good!

If you can't win on 6, bet 5. If you can't win on 5, bet 4. If you can't win on 4, become a blogger.

That was followed by a mission.

I love having missions in Vegas. The mission plan included a number of objectives, including:

• walking to the Four Queens and dropping off a secret envelope
• cashing in Keno tickets at the D, and tormenting my cousin without warning
• making a trip the walk of shame to the ATM at Bank America
• attempting re-entry and a safe return to planet The Cal without getting knocked off by some methed up crazy-eyed ne'er-do-well fist-shaker-at-God, the likes of which are in abundance in downtown Las Vegas.

About the secret envelope... apparently, there are people out there who still read the blog. Such a person - let's call her Mandy (short for Mandy Grandy, known for her $1000 jackpots, which she wins in abundance - or at least deserves to - rumor has it) - let me know that she was downtown, but her mother Kathy - also a reader of the blog - was unable to make the trip, due to circumstances at home.

Mandy asked if I could provide some souvenir, autograph, keys to my rental car, bundles of cash, something that would cheer up her mother.

I recognized both their names as people that have interacted with me through the years, and know they are long-haul Flushiepants degenerate gambling virus victims.

Any savvy gambler, myself included, travels with a selection of engraved stationary, custom printed Thank You cards, fresh fruit arrangements, gift cards, gimcracks, gew-gaws, tchotchkes, trinkets, kewpie dolls, autopen 'autographed' business cards, 3D printed bobbleheads, and the like.

I located an appropriate envelope in my supplies, and a piece of monogrammed genuine Royal Flusher parchment, and a couple of Official Royal Flusher version 2.0 Business Cards.

But no. The parchment wasn't good enough for Mandy, nor was the high cotton fiber content A4 personal correspondence stock, the stuff with the cut-out Royal Flusher Dress Up doll printed on the back of each and every one.

But no, that wouldn't do either. I needed something really special, and that something was a sheet from a rare, limited edition (only one per room) highly sought after California Hotel and Casino in-room notepad.

I drafted an appropriate message, and signed two of the business cards, one for Mandy, and one for Kathy - the first time, I believe, that any such card has been autographed. I suppose I should have numbered them to drive up prices. Bygones.

These, I placed in the envelope, and sealed it with some of the Flusherville Springs Envelope-Sealing and Baby Christening water I carry in a 10K gold flask everywhere I go.

All of this done, I set off for the Four Queens, where I encountered Gina, your prototypical sturdy, loyal Front Desk Sheila. I placed the envelope in Gina's custody, and then messaged Mandy as soon as I was safely out of sight to let her know where to pick up the goods.

Secret Double Four Queens Agent Gina.

Next stop, the D, where finding my cousin, Mrs. Gambletron, was unbelievably easy, as she was parked on a penny slot not 100 feet from the Keno lounge on the second floor. We also tracked down Gambletron, and I said my goodbyes, wishing them well on their trip home.

"Goodbye," I said.

"Goodbye," said Mrs. Gambletron.

"Goodbye," said Gambletron.

"Goodbye, Gambletron," I said.

"Goodbye, Gambletron," said Mrs. Gambletron, by mistake.

Ironically, the very plane they were to take to Minot was to be the same one that their lad Dr. Raoul Shiboubou would be taking to Las Vegas!

From the D, I took the shoe-leather express to the Bank of America, so named because it's a bank. And it's in America. Or it's of America. Anyway, it's aptly named, if you ask me.

I used the ATM to withdraw funds that would be only temporarily in my possession, and thus even more precious than gold or myrrh. Fleeting, one would say, ethereal perhaps.

And then my task was dodging various frightening-looking characters as I flitted from street to street, constantly on guard, working my way back to the Cal.

I almost got mugged by a rubby-dub who was knocked out on Fosters outside the Golden Nugget. I swear, he mustered a pre-consciousness fart, just before rousing himself to mug me and take my precious freshly-dispensed cash.

And if he hadn't gotten me, the next of the Angels with Dirty Faces most likely could have, or the next one, or the next one after that. All of them Four Loco'd out at the very foot of the Smug Nugget, lying on the curb.

On the way through Binion's, I secreted a secret stash of secret Business Cards in a secret location, should Gina abscond with the booty and place it for sale on some open crypto gew-gaw autograph market, to go to the highest bidder.

But no, loyal Gina did deliver the bundle with my scrawl on it to Mandy, who swooped in and claimed it like a Maltese Falcon.

Job done. A fun little mission on my part, successfully executed.

By the way, if anybody out there is in downtown Vegas right now, I bet that business card is still where I put it.