There are police helicopters circling overhead.  I’m sure they are not after me.  I hope not, anyway.  That would be a bummer.  Sure, I stretched the truth a bit on a few posts, but nothing to get me into that much hot water.  They must be after some criminal element, probably hoofing it cross country, the villain-mobile left abandoned in the middle of an intersection somewhere, headlights beaming and loud music with offensive lyrics blasting from its innards.  Their only hope is to escape, to leave, skip town, flee the country possibly, assume a new identity and find a job in a fish market somewhere.  That’s what probably happened to them last time and that’s how they ended up here, in Seattle, tossing salmon. 

 

Life takes those kinds of turns, and it’s reasonable to assume that a person of that particular nature would not be satisfied with the role of a simple monger. He would always be thinking about that big score; that deal or job that could make him rich, if he just tried it one last time.  Kind of like a lotto player.

 

“We know you’re in there.  Come out with your hands up!” 

 

“Give me a break!  It’s just a scratch-n-win!”

 

In some distant future, when the world is flung into yet another dark age, gambling will the outlawed and crack troops of the imperial legion will scour the countryside turning out innocent people from their homes, searching for the hidden, members of a secret brotherhood, a faction of rebels that wander like nomads across the wastelands.  These daring rogues will have long since abandoned civilization, reverting back to primitive ways, forgetting their language and losing even their names. Strangely, they will still exhibit deep understanding of mathematics, calculating effortlessly complex probabilities and infinitesimal odds, and if you meet one you will find they still do utter word-like sounds as if they are speaking, but they are only chanting long series of numbers, as if they were reciting their lotto picks in desperate hope that someday, somewhere a register clerk at a convenience store will rise up against the tyranny, re-establish an oasis of wagering and run them off a few tickets.

 

Viva Las Vegas

 

Matt