Gambler 4

I immediately take all my money out of the safe in the hotel and go to a graveyard I know. I start digging. There is a safe inside the ground, with its door to the sky. I put my money in there and bury it again. I've done this many times cause I'm paranoid. I head to Caesar's Palace with $40,000. Numbers and numbers and numbers. Patterns in nature. Fibonacci's golden ratio. Everything breaks down into numbers. Queen of Hearts, -1. King of Spades, -2. Nature has its patterns. Tarot Cards, Playing Cards. These cards express class. Upperclass women in the late Middle Ages or something used cards to form alliance, choose secret lovers. There's a time when all the right numbers pop up. I go ALL IN. I win. I win I win I win I win I win I win. My head is in a whirl. Everything is automatic. I've won a $100,000. I need to get out. If I stay, the mob will come after me and give me a beating. What should I do? What should I do? I cash out. I go to the bar at Caesar's Palace and start drinking. I don't want to talk to anyone. "Are you lonely?" Some woman asks. I don't even look at her. "No. Fuck off." "Why you gotta be so mean?" "Cause I can be." "Loosen up a while." I look to my left and there's a black woman talking to me. "I'm sorry. I'm just not feeling too well these days." "How you win so much money?" I told her my formula for winning. How I used to numbers and also the pattern of the cards. How I coasted through the highs of winning and agonized over the low bets. She appreciated my advice and gave me a peck on the cheek and then left. I drank another and another and another Hennessey and I began to get beer goggles or something, everyone looked beautiful and hazy. "Do you need a hotel room?" the waitress asked. "Please," I heard myself respond. The room was large. That's all I remember. I was sleeping like a drunken baby on the couch when I heard giggles and a knock on the door. I don't know how I managed to get to the door and open it but I did. IT was. "Hi," she smiled, "This is my Sugar Daddy." with that, my 16 year companion and 6 other Neo-Hippies entered my room. I really wanted to go to bed, but she had brought over some cocaine to wake me up. I would normally never try that stuff, but I was really too drunk to make any choices. I snifffed. It felt like a shot of sheer power. I was in another world. "Hey dudes," I heard myself say. "Are you feeling experimental?" my 16 year old companion asked. I did understand what she meant by that, but I kind of let it slide. "No, I'm feeling rather transcendental." Sex does not interest me one bit. I actually prefer to be sadistic. I don't mean physically. I mean psychologically. "Sing for us." I sing a Jim Morrison song. When I sing, I try to imagine that the soul of Jim Morrison is in my soul and I sing. They are feeling happy now but I feel incredibly arrogant. Do they know that I kill spies for the Achilles Heel Club? I just killed Gabriel Kim, a British Spy. I killed him while he was most vulberable, taking a piss.