Sin Eater's Vegas Diaries (1 of 100)

The Eccentric Mr. Shit

Too much Absinthe in my blood. But then, I feel so radiant, so okay, as if I'm walking on fluffy clouds. After my short stay in Paradise Hotel, I couldn't help but stretch and explore the world more. Business is business and my business is exploration. No bath for today; I just washed my face and sprayed some herbal essence all over my body. Bliss. Today's agenda is to meet a slot machine merchant we only know as Mr. Shit. 

Why in the heavens would you have that kind of name? Are you shit? God, I want to ask him these. But I'm here for business. I gotta make money for myself, my Family, my boys (lots!), and my godforsaken habits. 

Anyway, Mr. Shit is the real deal in slot machines. He built a slot machine empire with odds a bit higher than your chances of getting eaten by a shark. Neat. I'm supposed to meet him in a mob-controlled hotel but he changed the meeting place in the last 20 minutes. Are ya kidding me? I should just get my hair done.

So, when I saw Mr. Shit, I was amazed. He looks like someone kidnapped from a comic book. He wears a black overcoat and a serious-looking hat. You know, he looks like an Amish. But what puzzled me is his skin. It's greenish with a tinge of humanly brown. Mr. Shit is a humble, intellectual talker and we discussed many concepts before he showed me his new slot machine prototype.

Trump Tango - that's the name of his slot machine. He's selling it to me for 100 grand. Holy crap!I gazed at Trump Tango and it gives me a different kind of attraction...I just want to put coins endlessly in the machine. According to Mr. Shit, Trump Tango can 'rob' the dreams of people and give me money. Wut? Anyway, I'm buying Mr. Shit's shit. I have a lil extra to spare and I can recoup that in like 2 days...if I'm not too drunk.

Before we ended the long meeting, I thanked Mr. Shit for his business and moved on.

Messing with Roberto

Roberto, my driver/protector/bed buddy is acting strange lately. He stammers whenever I ask him to fetch loan money that a few schlubs owe me. The pricks complain that my vig of 75% is too high. Well, this is business and I have to make money. And they're not my friends. For friends, I can loan them vig-free. Now, going back to Roberto. Maybe he is troubled by something or what. 

Today, I gave him a large chocolate cake. He thanked me but found it weird. After that, we have to do it quickly in the car. Hump like there's no tomorrow. But he is lonely, I can feel that. Poor Robby is lonely. Despite his loneliness, my guard is up (I think). It's common to hear about troubled men shooting their employers in the head. Yep. We gotta watch out for situations like those.

A Shipment for a Friend

After finding time to write a letter and reach out to an old friend, Crew leader Tellurium I decided to give her a monthly shipment of booze and cookies. It's a token of my gratitude for her friendship. On this day, we met in a local Sicilian restaurant - just a hole in the wall business that really became popular. I love Pesto. Tellurium is still glamorous as ever. She enjoys fine booze, a nice girly talk, and basically just chilling out. But make no mistake, she's deadly with a pistol. Or to be plain - she's just deadly. 

Now, I wonder if she'll finish all the monthly booze shipment by herself. Maybe she'll use all that booze to supplement her planned parties. Either way, the booze can help. 

We wrapped the day with smiles in our faces. Now, time to hit the sack.

Leaving Las Vegas

Vegas is a nice place where anyone can unwind and spend thousands of dollars. When I get back to my daily routines, I'll make sure to replicate the mechanisms of Trump Tango. This slot machine is really promising. Maybe it's the hope of America. Maybe not. Maybe fuck everything else. Some people say that what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. That's about half-right. 

You bring out the good things. The good mellow things. The rotting skeletons, you bury those shit. You don't let anything from the past ruin the promising future. In that sense, we have to leave our 'Vegases' behind. After all, we have different versions of Vegas embedded deep in our minds. Like some metaphysical whatsoever stuff. 

We are all in a one big acid trip.

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