A Fool for Lunch

The Vegas Fools Club #1

I used to be a gambler. Then I moved to Vegas. This town eats gamblers and spits out the bones. You see them in the streets, shadows of humanity.

Most people don’t pay attention to what’s around them; they can’t see these shadows. I’m not talking about the homeless. I’m talking real ghosts. And real things. There’s no other word to describe them.

These things are not human. Some are straight from the abyss. Some have been hanging out in Sin City since it was first settled back in the 1900s.

I’m cursed. I can see them. So can a few others I’ve met along the way. We call ourselves the Vegas Fools Club. Membership is easy. All you have to do is be crazy.

Who I am is not important, but you can call me Jo.

So, I’m in downtown Las Vegas waiting for the bus when the air freezes around me. Strange, because it was over 100 degrees just a second ago. The smell of rot and decay tips me off. It’s a beast from the abyss.

The scenery wavers like a bad video and the crowds around me freeze into waxen statues.

This beast doesn’t look like a beast, but they often take human forms. This one here looks like he goes by Chad. He’s wearing nantucket red cargo shorts and a pale green button down. I check the shoes. Oh yeah. White sneakers, no socks.

Heaven knows I’m tired after a long day of playing poker. I whip out the handy crucifix I keep for these encounters. Summoning faith, I hold it between me and the beast.

“Begone foul fiend,” I intone in my best voice.

Chad just laughs as he reaches towards me with his perfectly manicured hands.

“I am not afraid of your cross. I am not Christian and do not believe in your God.” He grabs the cross necklace and puts it around his neck. “I am older than your puny God.”

“So, what’s the point of picking on me, an even punier human who cannot fight, who is not important in the scheme of human endeavors, and has nothing? I mean, I just lost a fortune at the tables tonight …”

“A light snack to fill the emptiness,” he says. “I hunger and the void cannot be filled. I wish a dainty, such as you, to ease myself until I can find better prey.”

“Why not someone stronger? I am only one tiny snack and you are great.” I smile winsomely, I hope.

I continue, “we are in the greatest of hunting grounds if you wish to prey on some tasty evil. I mean other than D.C.” I start reciting names. I’ve got a long list and my ex is right there at the top.

“A void cannot fill a void. No matter how tasty, I cannot live on such.”

“But are you alive if all you are is an abyss to be filled? Honestly, you should try the taco place over on Losee. Best tacos in town and a great view of the freeway. I’ll buy if you fly.” I try smiling again.

“Wretch! I will not be distracted. You are the snack of all snacks. You are a filling meal of substance. It is your soul I want — though tacos do sound delicious.”

“These are the best tacos in town. I guarantee it.”

Chad is looking like he might reconsider sucking out my soul, so I continue on. “I can also introduce you to some of the food trucks off of Maryland Parkway — the Birria is to die for. Melted cheese between corn tortillas wrapped around juicy chunks of goat meat and topped with cilantro and onions. It was beyond delicious.”

I shut myself up while Chad considers this. He’s from the abyss, goat meat should be a perfect recommendation.

Finally, he speaks. “I’ll check it out. If it’s not as promised, I’ll be back for your soul — as desert.”

The sudden heat staggers me and the world returns to its hustle. Another round won, but for how long?