Nothin' like driving south with the one you love. Oklahoma, baby. That's where our salvation awaits. The poker and blackjack tables. Slot machines. Lucky Ducky. Liberty 7. Kingdom Cash. Maria would go gravitating toward that thing before the night was over -- a game. Just stick it right in the slot. Nothin' like an electronic device called Girl's Best Friend. Yeah, I got your best friend right here, baby.
We never made it to one of the swanky gaming houses in the more prosperous of Indian nations. But the place wasn't complete confederate flag trash either. A moderate level above low life, I'd say. Classy crowd. People were there to gamble, not get drunk. Air was a zeppelin-like cloud of tarred nicotine bearing over a puddle of piss.
Maria lost $20, got $15 back. Matt won $20, lost $50. It's the nature of casinos. People win and lose a dollar, a five here and there. Once in a while some smart, lucky or cheating sonovabitch hits pay dirt.
The woman screamed ecstatically, breasts bobbing up and down as she jumped with unbridled joy. She placed a dollar at Mr. Moneybags and here she hit a jackpot of -----
Six thousand dollars!!!
Because there is no love and happiness like material possession. Especially the kind you lucked into. She was all over her husband, gropin' and scopin', kissin' and a-huggin' as the tears drew black mascara down her face like it was erosion. It was an emotional moment. Probably a relief. Why not let it out? Why hold back?
She was so excited she (I couldn't believe it. My mouth went agape.) undid her jeans and dropped trou right there. Head still cackling with laughter as she squatted her big ass over the tile floor. She must've pissed the Cimarron River over that floor.
By the way, April Fool.
