A Dollar and a Fight

Two friends head to a casino where one of them needs to win a large amount of money to pay back a drug debt.

-Please, don’t sit here.

Is this guy serious? I couldn’t care less about how scared you are that I’ll take your cards you rotten b*****d.

- Pardon me?

- Please don’t sit here, it’ll mess up the cards.

- Sorry sir, I’m not going to stop myself from sitting at the table because you feel like I’ll mess up the cards.

He looks at me like I’m Satan. I’m expecting him to spit in my face in any second. He just gets up and leaves, scoffing.

- Young people these days, no f****n’ respect for anything or anyone.

Like he wasn’t the same way when he was my age, and besides, we’re in a casino, respect doesn’t exist in a place like this. Will respecting you make me win money? No. So go home and play with your grand-kids instead of coming here to gamble your retirement money away you old f**k.  You’re too old to be playing “war “in a casino, go play blackjack or the wheel of fortune and let me win some money that I need desperately.

The croupier, who’s a middle-aged man, hasn’t said a word the whole time, and just looks at me, waiting for me to sit.

I throw him a hundred dollar bill and wait for him to give me my chips. There isn’t anyone at the table besides me and the croupier so I have no choice but to start playing right away, which pisses me off. Well, there is Mark, but he’s too much of a penny-pincher and a p***y to even entertain the thought of playing. Minimum wage is twenty so I put down four red chips and wait for him to do the same. He passes his hand over the table to let me know that I can’t change my mind or my bet.

I get a Jack and I start smiling, knowing I just made another 20 bucks. I take a sip of my drink in pride and the croupier gets an 8. I tap Mark’s shoulder happily and he smiles, knowing that if I win enough cash I’ll give him a little cut just for being here. I put forty dollars’ worth of chips this time and wait again for the croupier’s little lame-a*s ritual. I get an A’s, the best card you can get in this game, and clench my fist in victory. The Croupier gets a four and I make another forty dollars. I finish my drink and hand Mark a twenty and tell him to go get me a whisky on the rocks and put down sixty this time and win again, this time with an eight while the croupier gets a three.

- I like you, man. You’re my good luck charm.

I tip him five bucks just for being such a good f*****g croupier by, making sure that I win so I have more money in my pocket, which is why I’m here, unfortunately. I’m in debt to this a*****e, my coke dealer, Brett, and I’ve been dodging this guy for the past couple weeks but I received a text from him while I was at the bar that was quite graphic in what he would do to me if I didn’t have the money by tomorrow, so, obviously, being the f**k up that I am, not having the money I owe him, realized that my only chance at not having to eat from a straw for the next month was to come here, the casino, and win the money I need to still be able to use my dick. Mark comes back with my drink and sits.

- How’s it going?

- Making dough, I could feel the pain of the baseball bat already when we were at the bar, but now all I can feel is how good this money is.

- Don’t get greedy though, man, I know how you get, as soon as you get enough, we’re getting out of here and I take you to pay Brett.

- Shut up, I know what I’m doing.

- Cool it with the drinks too, man. It’ll f**k you up. Make you bet stupidly.

- Mark, I’m begging you, shut your mouth. Is there any other way for me to bet in this situation?

He shuts his mouth because he knows I’m right. I owe too much money to play safely, my only chance is to win big, and win fast. The longer it goes, the more chances I have of losing the dough. I’m not sure if I’m right about this theory, but goddamn, I wouldn’t live my life any other way. Fast sounds much better then slow, does it not? Isn’t the journey towards hell much more fun than the one towards paradise?

I look at the croupier.

- I tipped you. Make me win.

- I’ll try, sir, I’ll try. Good luck.

So we keep on playing and I lose some, win some, lose some more and go on a nice little streak where I’m getting kind of close to having the money I need not to get my legs broken. I decide to stop for a little while, being so close to the goal and to go have a drink at the casino bar to relax, talk a little of s**t with Mark, and hopefully come back to win just some more so I can get out of here feeling good about my life, for once. So we go to the bar and I order another whisky while Mark orders a beer. I let out a deep breath.

- Oh man, I really needed that. My heart’s beating so f*****g fast.

- Just don’t f**k it up man.

- I can’t f**k it up, man. I’m not really in charge y’know. Luck is.

Mark sits quietly, because he knows I’m right, once again. Besides, he shouldn’t even say a word to me right now, he could have just lent me the money to pay back Brett but he’s so much a penny-pincher that he wouldn’t do it. And you know what the worst part is? He gave me the stupidest excuse as to why he was refusing to help me out. His reason was that I should have been responsible with my money and took it easy with the drugs. I’m about to get my teeth kicked in, and this guy is trying to give me life lessons like I’m his son and we’re sitting by the lake drinking a cold one. Deep down, I know that he just wouldn’t lend me the money because he knows I wouldn’t pay him back, or at least, it’ll take me a long time to do it. He’s absolutely right, but s**t, be honest about it, don’t lecture me about it to try to feel better about letting your friend down. It’s so typical, people lying to themselves to protect their self-worth from the reality of how much of a s****y person they are.

I take a look at the ceiling and notice all these cameras everywhere. Man, they don’t f**k around in this place. Cameras everywhere watching over us and the chips. I take a look around and notice how many people are gambling. Some excited, some with their head in their hands, some with a blank face like they’ve just gotten a lobotomy. We’re all chips in a place like this though, are we not? We’re the f*****g chips, right? The cameras aren’t for the actual money, they’re for us, the most important currency in the place. As soon as you’ve got something of value, you watch over it by whatever means necessary. And what’s the most valuable thing in this word? A human mind, if you ask me. If you have control over a human mind, you then have control of human action. That’s why there’s no windows and no clocks in place. That’s why there’s so many cameras. So they can keep control over the most valuables chips in the joint, the people. They can’t have us thinking for ourselves or being conscious of what’s going on around us, or else we’d rightfully act a fool, and thus lose the value we have to them. So they keep us in the dark with the help of bright lights, drinks and fine women. No windows, no clocks, no light. Just darkness and I’m pretty f*****g tired of it. This place sucks. M***********s. This casino, I realize, is a f*****g battlefield and like a good soldier, I’ll take em’ for all they have. I finish my drink like I’m an Irishman getting ready for the bar brawl of his life.

- Let’s go, Mark. This is f*****g war. And I ain’t losing.

He looks at me completely confused.

- No, no, no, no, no, John, don’t think like that, you’ll f**k it up. Look at me, look at me. You’re drunk. Do you realize that? And what happens when you’re drunk John? You f**k up. Every time. You f**k up. Lay off the drink and get your mind straight.

- What are you saying, dude? I just finished my drink and my mind is as straight as can be.

- You’re a f**k up. You’re a major, total, f**k up. This isn’t war, this is about * YOU *, not getting the a*s beating of the century by Brett.

- I’m alive baby, I’m really alive. It’s all that matters. F**k Brett and his coke and the money I owe him. I don’t give a s**t.

He sighs and I could care less because Mark is not, and never has been, an example of courage or standing up for something you believe. In fact, he’s always been a coward who just accepts it without answering back when people force their will upon him.

I go back to the same table and notice, to my dismay, that a couple of people are now sitting there, so I start looking for an empty table. If I’m going to live, or I’m going to die, I want to do it alone, I don’t want anyone interfering with my luck, I don’t want anyone to affect the bounces, if I die, if they take me for everything I have, they won’t achieve it by getting any sort of help, I swear to God, they won’t get any help. I find a table and take a seat. She’s a woman. And boy, does she look good. Too bad she’s got some monkey uniform like they make all the croupiers wear. I bet she’s got a rockin’ body under that uniform. She looks sweet too, innocent, like she wants to help me, like she’ll trick the cards so that I win every single time. I trust her. A man would take me for everything that I have, because he’ll know that I’m playing for a good cause, he’ll notice it and he’ll resent me for it. A woman would not do that, she’ll love me for it, because women are pure and they can recognize that a few good men still are.

So I sit start playing, and I start losing. Time after time, losing, losing, losing, and losing to this twat. This disease-ridden s**t who’s taking me for all I have.

- I’m not done for. You hear me, I’m not done for!

- John, calm down, don’t get thrown out of the place.

- This is war, Mark, do you hear me? They think they can own us and take us for everything we have and are, f**k all that man, I’m not letting them, we’re not letting them, I’m doing this for everyone in the goddamn place. I’m doing this for you, buddy.

So cheesy and I love it. I start to laugh.

- You’re just drunk, if you want to do something for me, just stop, I’ll lend you the money to pay back Brett, I swear. Just stop.

He couldn’t tell me this before we got to this casino and before I got angry. Typical.

- I don’t want your money, I want theirs.

The croupier speaks for the first time.

- If you’re going to keep on playing, sir, I’ll have to ask you to calm down or I’ll have no other choice but to call security.

I look at her.

- Just deal me a card.

This keeps going until I lose everything. They got me. I f*****g lost. They beat me and they beat me good.

- I hate you, John. I really hate you. Why are you the way you are?

I look at Mark. He wants to punch me in the face. I should do it for him.

- Give me a fifty.

- No. I’m not doing that.

I grab him hard by the arm and pull into his ear to make sure the croupier doesn’t hear me and gets my a*s hauled out of here.

- Give me a f*****g fifty, or I swear to God Mark, I’ll choke the s**t out of you right in front of everyone. I won’t stop until you’re dead or the security gets me off of you, which gives me plenty of time to f*****g kill you. Give me the f*****g fifty.

And he does. He gives me a fifty. It’s all I got.

- Thanks man, you’re the best, you know that? Do you know that? Do you know that I love you and I always will? Do you?

I’d kiss him if he’d let me.  

He doesn’t answer me. He’s pissed. But he wouldn’t understand that I’m doing this for us. I don’t even care about Brett or what happens to me. When I lost all my money, during the minute that passed between losing the rest of my cash and threatening Mark into giving me the fifty dollar bill, all I cared about was the fact that they got me. For that minute, I felt like they had me. Like they got everyone else, even Mark, even if he’s not playing, they got him, he’s playing by their rules.

- Deal me a card.

And she does. And I win. I keep winning. I keep winning so much, that without even realizing it, and Mark neither, because he’s sitting there in awe that I’m not losing a single hand. Not one. I swear to you, not f*****g one. This is like a sports movie for gambling addicts. They’re watching me too, the chip, the people at the top; they’re watching me take them for everything they have.

So I stop. I realize I’ve won. I didn’t let them get me. I won the battle. This is it. I won the battle, I wasn’t a chip, at least for the few hours that I was in this casino, I was not a currency. I was me. And it felt good. I never let them break my spirit, they beat me, for a minute, but I kept going, never letting go. I never let the indifference of the croupier faze me, I never let Mark’s broken hope make me reconsider what I was doing, I never let the dwindling of my money make me think about Brett, I fought through it, and I won for at least tonight. I’m so happy that I give Mark five hundred dollars’ worth of chips, and he’s happy for all the wrong reasons, but man, at least he’s happy.

Mark and I make our way to the cashier’s booth, and we’re laughing, holding each other. I’m flicking off the cameras, drunk, laughing loudly, telling the cameras to suck my balls. Holy s**t, do I ever hope they can hear me. We get to the cashier’s booth and I turn my chips in and get my cash. I’m smiling and so is Mark.

- Had a good night, huh, sir?

He hands me my money. I look at him straight in the eye, I start laughing.

- Oh yes, sir.

- I hope you’ll be back soon, sir.

I laugh even harder.

- Hey man, you can all go suck a dick with AIDS on the tip.

We walk out and get in the car. Mark’s lights us both cigarettes.

- Oh, man, what a night.

- I’ve never felt so good.

- Winning feels good, huh, John? I thought you would f**k it up, man. I was ready to hand you the rope.

I just laugh. He’s right, winning feels great. But man, smoking my cigarette, windows down, running my hand through my hair, I think about all that went down. I think about all my failures, all the mistakes I’ve made, all the money I’ve gambled, drank, sniffed, smoked and fucked. It doesn’t even come close to this. I think about my girl. I think about how I’m going to avoid her so much pain by not getting myself sent to the hospital. I want to just lie down next to her and hold her. I take a look at Mark, driving. He’s happy but he’ll never get it, which is a better fate for him. He’ll never get that despite all of this, the pain of defeat is much sharper then the joy of victory.