In a city that never sleeps, there is always a place where people can hang out after dark. Las Vegas was no exception. The place was called The Mole Hole, and was located underneath one of the most popular casinos. Each night people could come to vent about their horrible day, dance the night away to some jazz music, or relax and have a cigar or a drink.

As you walk in from the top of the stairs, there's the center stage for live bands. On one side sits a couch and a billiards table. The owner just got a new one, and turned the old one into a poker table that he uses in the back lounge for tournaments. On the other side is another couch, and on the back wall is a bar/food area. On the walls were posters, advertisements, and old cigarette butts that people just left there. If you looked close enough, you could see stains from smoke and blood, as well as graffiti that the owners couldn't quite get off the walls. When there was no band playing, you could hear the people gambling and cursing at the machines upstairs, and maybe even a shot or two.

The co-owner, smelling of coffee and sweating old cologne, was a tall man. Maybe 7 feet or so, weighing what looked like maybe 200, all muscle. He wore a custom made suit with a brightly colored tie to offset his dry yet highly satisfying personality. He just walked through, playing the dual-role of bouncer. He said nothing, unless it was necessary, so if you didn't get so much as a 'hello' or a 'kiss my ass' from him, you were just fine in his eyes, and knew to say nothing more.

The owner, however, was the complete opposite. Short and stubby, about 300 pounds and maybe 5'6, and was a clean and social kind of guy. He'd come up once in a while and say hi to everyone, and would make sure everything was kosher.

"Dude...take a shower." He elbowed the co-owner and chuckled. The tall and smelly man looked down at him and gave him the 'say one more word and I'm gonna kill you' look.  "Hey man, I'm just yanking your chain. Hope you're having a good night, huh."

He held his breath as he walked past the bouncer, and continued making his rounds.

Vince, an Italian Mobster, was on a vacation once in the Grand Gambling City of Vegas. One night, he heard of this, "Mole Hole." He decided to give it a try and maybe even try a few bets. 

Near midnight, Vince left his hotel and walked slowly on the streets to the club. All around Vince, he could hear the soft tune of a Saxophone playing a nice piece of sweet, sweet Jazz. This sound continued to grow more and more, until finally, he came to the Mole Hole. He then saw the two bouncers standing at the doorway, who then lowered their shades and glared at Vince. The bouncers then nodded, then let Vince into the club.

As soon as Vince entered, he could smell smoke and alcohol wishing around in the air. He also noticed, an extremely tall, and rather stocky man in the middle of the club. Vince walked up to the tall man, and began a conversation.

"What's up? How you doin' buddy?" Vince said. He had to look up at the stocky bouncer, for Vince was MUCH, much shorter than him. Vince then eagerly awaited a response.