Wednesday, November 3, 2010

A Sunday at the Empress, Tres, Notion

Oh, this is going to be a multi-parter. I started writing it, you know, and thought, 'there ain't no way people will pay attention to one giant post like that. You should create suspense. The kind of suspense that lasts months, like Paranormal Activity but with gambling and a realistic storyline.

Part the First
Part Deux, Harlot

Security escorts Yell back into a stark hallway and I am pissed. Don't you take my sister, you sonsabitches. She is the bravest, smartest person in the world. She's going to be President some day, I fucking swear it. We're going to be like the Emanuel family: Yell's gonna be President after revolutionizing public policy, I'm going to be a super savvy author that writes brilliant, mind-blowing bullshit prose, in like iambic pentameter and stuff, and Katsisch is going to be angry and jealous about it. We're going to give TED speeches and go on Letterman just like all the other white liberals who fantasize about changing the world, I mean, there's a goddamn fantasy all planned out and the security guard at the Empress is fucking it all up because she's a stupid bitch with stupid hair who waddles like ET. Ho-lee fuck, what if she's an alien, and they recognized Yell as the strongest example of our species in the room with their brain scanners and this isn't a casino at all, what better way to disguise your fucking space ship with it's blinky twirly lights and oddly shaped exterior than by pretending it's a casino? Fuck, they're going to probe the bejeezus out of her.

But then, it's Yell. She'll escape through a complicated series of slight-of-hand shit, and like disable all the cameras with her withering gaze and forceful self-righteous speeches, and they'll take her to their leader and she'll just smart-ass her way into their hearts and minds, and then she'll be the new alien leader and they'll end pollution by altering the basic make-up of their advanced weaponry.

"I am thinking some heavy shit right now, guys."

We wait. We wait for a good twenty minutes. Shit. We're late for dinner. I make the call.


"Hi hon, you guys on your way back?"

"Um. We've been delayed."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. Yell's been detained. They've got her in like a holding cell or something and they won't tell me what's going on. I might break something."

"You're kidding me."


"Oh my god. She is going rip into them."

"I know, right?" Pause. "You think they think she's underage or something?"

"I have no idea, but I know that--hold on."

I wait. "I asked if they thought she was cheating--"

"Yell would never cheat."

"I know that, but--"

"Hold on." She starts jabbering with family in the background. I hear my dad laughing hysterically and saying something like, 'they took Yell? HAHAHAHA. She's going to get herself arrested for verbal assault. I am woman, hear me roar, right?'

"Okay. Uncle Dave and I are coming back there."

I tried to imagine slim, soft-spoken Uncle Dave standing up to casino thugs. "Is that really necessary?"

"He'll know what questions to ask, it's his job."

"How about he just tells me the questions to ask?"

"Honey, no. We're coming. Call us if something happens."


"It's our decision. Wait - Katsisch says you called to gloat - sorry - rebelliously gloat over being victimized by the man," she laughs.

"Tell her to sit on it. And make the Fonzie sound."

"Goodbye, honey."

"Peace out, Mums." I turn off my phone and turn to the entourage. "Yeah, the grown-ups are coming."

"Fuck, I'm gonna go have a cigarette." David storms off.

We slink down to the floor of the casino, guarding the doors all stern and depressed. My dad calls back. Twice. Basically, he just wanted to remind me that Yell is probably back there defending her rights and being brilliant and strong, and that if it were me I would be cracking jokes like I "do on Facebook" because "everyone thinks" I'm "goddamn hilarious." Duh.

"Oh sure, Dad, nice. They take Yell and we're all, poor Yell! She'll give them a piece of her mind! They take me and it's funny."

"If they took you, you probably deserved it. We'd just leave you there."



renalfailure said...

I want a cabinet position. I want to be Chairman of the Federal Awesome Reserve. And I'm raising Awesomeness rates by 1% to combat awesomeness inflation.

Sid said...

I am astounded by the places your mind goes.

I'm not really fond of casinos. Maybe we have the lame kind back in Cape Town. Or maybe it is because I don't drink that casinos seem lame?

Chris said...

So, if you write in iambic pentameter, is it really prose? Also, great story vis a vis suspense and shit. Get on with it.

nursemyra said...

your mom does the Fonzie sound?

grumpy said...

I would come rescue you from casino prison even if your folks wouldn't.

The Elder said...

OK Miss Writer-in-Training--short story (or magazine article) here. Get on it. Massage it. Flesh it out. Edit it.

Jane said...

So I'm new here (*points above me* Chris sent me), but I've been quietly lurking for a while. You're funny, so I'm staying.

Also, I agree with other people about getting on with this story. :-p

Rassles said...

RF: We'll have to create a scale of awesome, then. Question: Should we make the people with the most awesome pay higher awesome rates so we can spread the awesome down to the completely lame? Because if that's how it's going to work, my rates will skyrocket. Suddenly I understand where the Republicans are coming from.

Sid: Casino's seem lame because you don't like people. The best thing about the casino is making friends with people. That and making money.

Chris: CHILL

Nurse: No, but I do.

Grumpy: All the way from Australia? You're a peach.

Elder: I like you tons.

Jane: Well, thanks. And you're welcome.