jesse kaellis en Lifestyle, beBee in English, Writers Bally's. Trop, Dunes, Caesars, Sahara. Landmark, Barbary, State Line, on and on. • 21 joints. I counted them again. 23/9/2016 · 2 min de lectura · +600

He says if you don't come in you're fired

I never saw one of these checks on the dice table. Little Caesars was a break in joint and we dealt mostly quarters. It was, however, the second biggest sports book in the State. Little Caesars would book any bet in the sports book. Little Caesars set the line for the other books in Vegas. Every morning sport's touts would come and check the lines and use the pay phone out front to phone it in. This joint was owned by Phil Mayday. When he died his wife let the place go and it became a discount clothing store. 

The entire mall is underneath other casinos now. If you stayed six months you got to keep your apron which had a picture of a machine gun on it. I never made it. I made a lateral move downtown at about three months. To the Golden Gate. 

He says if you don't come in you're fired

He says if you don't come in you're fired

I got off work at 10:30 am and decided to visit some people I knew from the Temple. I was working my first dice job at a joint called Little Caesars.

This couple lived on Sierra Vista at Paradise Road. She was a redhead named Rusty. His name I don't remember. But I remember that he was considerably older. They had some mutually beneficial parasitic relationship.

They lived in a rented townhouse. I had been there for Buddhist meetings before; for chanting. This was the Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism which a Japanese guy I worked with at the Tropicana had enrolled me in. My car had broken down, and he was helping me out with rides for a week until I put a car together. He kind of proselytized me. I couldn't see any harm in it.

Plus I met a lot of people through Buddhism. I met my main meth connection, Sandy. Met her through Rusty and also seeing her at the Temple. She would chant her fucking head off. But some kinds of karma don't come clean. You got to pay for real.

I stop by for small talk. Then Rusty's husband puts seven little coke spoons heaped with meth in a glass of pop and hands it to me. I drink it.

I'm waiting, waiting, waiting, "What's supposed to happen?" "Just wait."

After about twenty minutes the effects start to manifest. I'm feeling a hollow feeling in my stomach. I feel an energy and sexual energy. A speed high is difficult to describe. I was grinding my teeth. It is intense and insidious. This was my first time, and I was lit.

Rusty is looking at me, and she chews her husband out, "You gave him too much!" "No, I didn't. He's all right."

Two guys come over that I didn't know. I had never met them before. I get the impression that