Essay of an Addict

Tim Buckley

©2013

Essay of an Addict

 

 

 

            A handsome young man turns werewolf when the full moon rises.  Normal enough.  “Strange” is watching lovable grandma transform to vicious animal the minute she walks through the bingo hall door.  The bingo addict: cruel, callous, calculating.  No withdrawing drug abuser or quitting cigarette smoker compares to the savage bingo player who gets close to winning, but who misses even the consolation prize.

            “I am a bingo caller, for a dollar I will holler, and the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen, is this little old lady needing B-15.”

            These immortal last words were gurgled over the microphone by “Bingo Bob,” bingo caller extrordinare, as he was being stoned to death with�"ironically�"the very chocolate chip cookies that were to be his gift from aged mother turned rabid over the elusive B-15.

            Sure, they are all warm with expectation before the evening starts.  Smiling because they sit in lucky chairs, playing with lucky cards containing lucky numbers, confident in lucky charms and coins placed in lucky designs while smoking Lucky Strikes.  But watch. The tranquil three you love most: grandma, mom, your wife(all sugar and spice and everything nice) slowly adapt acrid personalities more volatile than the strongest "Drano" because they got oh so close, oh so many times to winning, but failed. By half time, crossed fingers have become cross smiles; words are shouted that Mafia hit men only dream of telling police.

           

 

   Startled by these events, psychologists have instituted telephone hot lines.  They are especially trying to stop “caller’s death syndrome.”  Bingo

addicts are urged to call.  Also, clinics are popping up in all four corners of the country, and will soon black it out.  (If you come to a clinic between 8:00-9:00 A.M., you qualify for the “early bird” group therapy session.)

            In spite of these efforts, there are always those so hooked that they take the motto “Bingo is my thingo” all the way to 0-75.  They wind up in the State’s newly opened bingo bonker ward, lucky to be alive.  While waiting for a number in the big cash game, they themselves became a number in the bingo game of life.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Marie]

Very good description. I've not played much bingo, but I understand the addictiion. I'm glad I found Tim Buxley's work. EVERYBODY OUGHT TO FND TIME BUXLEY'S WORK!!!!