How to Dress for a Night at the Casino (with Pictures

Background
A fond memory of playing games with friends as a kid was Luigi’s Casino. We’d play those stupid chance games all the time and it was so fun. Looking back, I wanted to design a tour around Luigi in his casino costume, so I thought where else a casino was present in Mario games. Of course, I immediately came to Hotel Delfino and the Sunshine version of King Boo. This tour idea is a mishmash these two characters put together.
(This tour idea series was inspired by u/WaffleyDootDoot. Please check him out, some of his ideas are great!)
New Track
Wii Moonview Highway: When choosing the new track, I had two themes in mind; night skies and bustling cities. This track is exactly both of those things and more! Not only do you get to swerve along the city roads, but you also get to take in the amazing views off the side of the highway. This course would also be the second from Mario Kart Wii, taking its place alongside Maple Treeway.
New Drivers
Luigi (Casino) (Medium, High-End): Luigi turns up in his casino outfit from the Super Mario 64 DS party games! He handles the riches of the casino, as well as acting as a gamemaster. His special item is the Coin Box.
King Boo (Sunshine) (Large, High-End): King Boo arrives in his Mario Sunshine style! After hiding under the casino of Hotel Delfino for far too long, he’s more than ready to haunt the race. His special item is the Giant Banana.
New Karts
Casino Bruiser (High-End): A black and green chequered variant of the normal Bruiser, this ride is sure to match Luigi’s new costume as he goes from riches to races. Its boosted skill is Slipstream Plus.
Pepper Pedaller (High-End): A variant of the Banana Master which features a supersize chili pepper. Despite his hatred for spicy food, it does match King Boo’s big, red tongue. Its boosted skill is Rocket Start Plus.
Gold Bruiser (High-End): A gold version of the normal Bruiser, this kart is perfect for anyone who wants to express their interest in high fashion. Its boosted skill is Mini-Turbo Plus.
New Gliders
Spicy Glider (High-End): A red variant of the Tropical Glider; instead of bananas, this tree grows… chili peppers? Its boosted item is the Super Horn.
Pipe Spotlights
Pipe 1: Luigi (Casino), Casino Bruiser, Fireworks Parachute Pipe 2: King Boo (Sunshine), Pepper Pedaller, Spicy Glider
Special Pipe
Night Out Pipe: Peach (Vacation), Pauline (Party Time), Rosalina (Aurora), Daisy (Yukata)
This pipe celebrates fashion and the lifestyles of those that visit night-time casinos. Peach, Pauline, Rosalina, and Daisy arrive wearing their best outfits! This pipe starts off with 30 items in it. None of the drivers are spotlights and you only pull a maximum of 3 High-End drivers.
(UPDATE: Of course, Nintendo decided to go and reveal an amazing new Pauline alt as soon as I’m about to publish this.)
Track Selection
The 12 tracks of this tour idea feature starry skies and night-time cities as well as a couple of Boo related courses:
New York Minute 3 Vancouver Velocity RMX Rainbow Road 1 SNES Ghost Valley 1 SNES Rainbow Road N64 Frappe Snowland DS Luigi’s Mansion DS Waluigi Pinball Wii Moonview Highway 3DS Shy Guy Bazaar 3DS Neo Bowser City 3DS Rosalina’s Ice World
Tour Gifts/Gold Pass
Normal Gifts: Ludwig, Bullet Blaster, Parachute Gold Pass Gifts: King Boo, Bull’s-Eye Banzai, Gold Bruiser, Plaid Ribbon
Thank You
Thank you for reading! This tour idea was super unique and some of the ideas took a while to perfect. Of course, my love for Mario Sunshine just had to seep in but there’s nothing wrong with some King Boo love (he needs more alts). I feel like if Nintendo were to do an idea like this, they could pull off something really interesting but it's once in a blue moon we get unique ideas like this.
Thanks for reading and have a great day. :)
Next Tour…
With this hint, you should be able to take a bite at guessing what’s next. I wonder what ideas this plants into your mind…

Ok, so, I was recently rereading The Crying of Lot 49 last night, specifically Chapter 3, and I do feel I have a strange hypothesis about sections of that chapter that may be a complete projection, but the more that I look into the content of the sections I will parse out in particular, and the more research that I do, the more evidence seems to fall in place that sort of freaks me out and confirms my theory. Being freaks yourselves, I thought this would be the place for me to project my world, so to speak, and see if what I’m seeing is in any way based in reality or if I’m instead way off base.
My hypothesis is that Chapter 3 of The Crying of Lot 49, and specifically the Lake Inverity/Bone charcoal/Tony JaguaFangoso Lagoon section might be subtextually about Disneyland. I have struggled to find much about these particular sections of this chapter related to Disney. I own J. Kerry Grant’s A Companion to Lot 49, have scoured the Pynchon Wiki, read the reddit post discussion for Chapter 3 of this book, and tried Googling as much about it as I could, and I haven’t found anything to suggest Disneyland, so this is either a relatively new idea or one that is inaccurate as hell. Oh, boy!
To begin, I will say, I am fascinated and obsessed with Disneyland and Disney World which is maybe why I found some of the information I found within Lot 49 to begin with. One could say I have a perverse fascination with the 2 theme parks which has led me to all manner of revelations. In the same way that Pynchon, being from what I can tell, a heretical Catholic, has a perverse fascination with the sacred through the filter of the profane, I am somehow deeply attracted to and obsessed with all things Disney even though I think they are essentially a fascist, culturally banal, destructive force. Similar to how I believe Oedipa may have with Disneyland in the novel, I “fell in love with it (41).” What can I say?
The first half of Chapter 3 which I will focus on, involves Oedipa’s continued revelations. She gets her first peek at WASTE, the Tristero, the posthorn, and the Boeing-esque Yoyodyne is introduced. The plot of the novel really starts to thicken, or to put it a different way, the tapestry, the maaswork, really starts to come together, narrative threads criss-crossing every which way in all directions at once. A resource that was helpful for much of my understanding of this chapter and even just in how I read much of Lot 49 in general is Charles Hollander’s article on the novel: “Pynchon, JFK, and the CIA.” I’ll post it below.
https://www.vheissu.net/articles/hollander_49.php
Chapter 3, according to Hollander, is where some of the first hints of JFK’s assasination are placed. According to Hollander, this chapter uses allusion, parody, analogy, and enthymeme to encode its secret message about the JFK assassination. Mike Faloppian’s Peter Pinguid Society’s Dallas chapter certainly suggests this. I mention this, partially, to say that, in a way, I could maybe call what I’m trying to figure out here “Pynchon, Disney, and the CIA,” since in many ways what I’m wrestling with is what I perceive to be many hidden references to Disney's shaddy dealings throughout 40s and 50s Californian history. Disney World, in particular, does have a direct history of involvement with the CIA with regard to how it acquired its real estate holdings, for example, which interestingly enough is what a chunk of this chapter is about when it comes to its references to Inverarity (not Disney World, but real estate holdings in general, Inverarity's more specifically).
The first section of the chapter that gave me some strange vibes regarding Disneyland was the section where Metzger, Oedipa, and the Paranoids go to Fangoso Lagoon, “one of Inverarity’s last big projects (40).” I will quote some of these sections below where these vibes first made themselves known.
“Somewhere beyond the battering, urged sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills, somehow implicit in an arrogance or bite to the smog the more inland somnolence of San Narciso did lack, lurked the sea, the unimaginable Pacific, the one to which all surfers, beach pads, sewage disposal schemes, tourist incursions, sunned homosexuality, chartered fishing are irrelevant, the hole left by the moon’s tearing-free and monument to her exile; you could not hear or smell this but it was there, something tidel began to reach feelers in past eyes and eardrums, perhaps to arouse fractions of brain current your most gossamer microelectrode is yet too gross for finding (40-41).”
This first quote stood out to me because it reminded me of the printed circuit Oedipa sees in Chapter 2. At the beginning of Chapter 2, Oedpia looks out at the landscape and sees it as deeply controlled, planned, almost machine-like or circuit-like. I don’t think this is a wildly different passage from that one. It, like the previous seciton forces the reader to ask the question: how did America come to be how it is now? This is an important question Lot 49 is always forcing its reader to ask. How did the deep conservatism or fascism creep in? Would the answer not be the subject of this book? Communication systems. What company is in charge of some of the most monopolized forms of our communication systems to this day? Disney, of course! Is this an accident? Was it planned? The malignant, magic forces referenced in Chapter 1 may have made it so, may have “urged [the] sweep of three-bedroom houses rushing by their thousands across the dark beige hills (40).” Surely the Walt Disney Company has done as much as any to reinforce suburban 3-bedroom forms of existence that have had a stranglehold on our cultural existence for so many years, than just about any, right? But this was just where I started to get the first inkling of vibes about Disneyland. To continue with another quote:
“They came in among earth-moving machines, a total absence of trees, the usual hieratic geometry, and eventually, shimmying for the sand roads, down in a helix to a sculpted body of water named Lake Inverarity. Out in it, on a round island of fill among blue wavelets, squatted the social hall, a chunky ogived and verdigrised, Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino. Oedpia fell in love with it (41).”
This is where my paranoia really got going. Much of the description of the passage above does not sound like a man-made lake or lagoon. Far from it. Lake Inverarity is described as “a round island of fill,” that contains a “social hall,” and as a “Art Nouveau reconstruction of some European pleasure-casino.” That sounds much more like Disneyland than just a man-made lake created by a real-estate developer? Also with Oedpia being a consistent parody of housewives in suburban America, it would make sense that she would fall in love with Lake Inverarity if it is, in fact, Disneyland. Plus, there might be another hint in the name Lake Inverarity itself, since it is the only holding named after Inverarity specifically, just as Disneyland is named after Disney himself. I don’t believe that Inverarity is a direct analogy for Disney specifically, but I do believe he is instead an analogy for any of the unseen hyper-capitalist forces that have come to dominate our culture, Disney clearly being one example.
And just a side note before I continue with some of my evidence. It would make complete sense, this being a novel about Southern California, its real-estate development, and history, that Pynchon would eventually have to get to Disneyland. It is a property in Southern California, that especially between 1955 and 1965 had to have HUGE influence. How could he not incorporate it even if it was only referred to passively or encoded into the references of the text (much in the same way Hollander argues that Pynchon does the same for JFK’s assassination). There is another passage that REALLY got me convinced about my above theory, the section where Manny DiPresso is discussing the bone charcoal “used in the R&D phase of the filter program. Back around the early 50’s.” Here it is:
“Presently the bodies sank and stayed where they were till the early ‘50s, when Tony Jaguar, who’d been a corporal in an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta and knew about what was at the bottom, decided among some colleagues to see what he could salvage. All they managed to come up with was bones. Out of some murky train of reasoning, which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything; and stories about Forest Lawn and the American cult of the dead; possibly some dim hope that Senator McCarthy, and others of his persuasion, in those days having achieved a certain ascendancy over the rich cretini from across the sea, would somehow refocus attention on the fallen of WWII, especially ones whose corpses had never been found; out of such labyrinth of assumed motives, Tony Jaguar decided he could surely unload his harvest of bones on some American someplace through his contacts in the “family,” known these days as Costa Nostra. He was right. An import-export firm bought the bones, sold them to a fertilizer enterprise, which may have used one or two femurs for laboratory tests but eventually decided to phase entirely into menhaden instead and transferred the remaining several tons to a holding company, which stored them in a warehouse outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana, for maybe a year before Beaconsfield got interest (47).”
When I read “which may have included the observed fact that American tourists beginning then to be plentiful, would pay good dollars for almost anything,” I could not think of anything but Disneyland. In his historiographic metafictions, Pynchon often superimposes historical realities onto present ones in order to make political, social, and religious commentary that would otherwise be inexpressible. An easy example is the fact that Gravity’s Rainbow is a novel about 1960’s America set in Britain during World War II. In the above passage, if Pynchon is superimposing the strange, seemingly random history of “an Italian outfit attached to the German force at Lago diPieta.” and is using this as an analogy, to project a world that speaks to his present day, I don’t know how Pynchon couldn’t be referring to Disneyland. The novel is set in Southern California, the place where Pynchon lived in 1965. Wouldn’t Disneyland, the rise of tourism, how that was changing the landscape of America and hijacking the “family,” its communication systems, propaganda, and culture, wouldn't all that have been on his mind? I have a few more quotes and then a possibly even more major revelation before I feel I can finally feel I’ve made my point.
Later on in the Lagoon, the Paranoids start smoking pot, and the following happens:
“[B]y holding up the glowing roaches of their cigarettes like a flipcard section at a football game, to spell out alternative S’s and O’s, attracted the attention of the Fangoso Lagoons Security Force, a garrison against the night made up of one-time cowboy actors and L.A. motorcycle cops (49).”
I believe this “one-time cowboy actor” reference to be a reference to Ronald Regan, a fixture of southern California and one-time cowboy actor, and yet another thread in the patchwork connections to Disney. On October 24, 1947, Walt Disney and Ronald Regan both testified against communism, naming particular individuals they found nefarious communists within the film industry (another communication industry, one could say) before the House of Un-American Activities Committee. Which got me thinking, with all the mob references in the above section about Lago diPeta and the bones, was Disney ever involved with the mafia or mob, with “Costa Nostra?” I didn’t find much, but I did find something extremely interesting, which also led to one final even more strange realization. Read the link below, it lays out the story of Willie Bioff, a mobster who attempted to but failed to help break up Disney’s Union Strike in the 1940’s.
https://babbittblog.com/2016/10/09/disney-and-the-mob-willie-bioff/
This may seem unrelated to Pynchon’s “parable of power,” but earlier in the chapter when Mike Fillopian is discussing Russia and America, clearly also, yet again using a historical detail as a historiographic metafiction, superimposing a historical reality onto a present one, in this case, that of the cold war, when Fillopian mentions “After the confrontation, appalled at what had to be some military alliance between Russia...and a Union that paid lip service to abolition while it kept its own industrial laborers in a kind of wage-slavery (36),” its fairly clear which side of the picket-isle Pynchon would have been during an animator strike of Disney in the 1940s, or any strike for better treatment, for that matter. In Lot 49, Pynchon has written a "parable of power" about the various ways the circuit board of American life has reinforced the indentured servitude of supposed abolitionists, which in our modern world, could easily be a stand in for the structures of neo-liberalism. And nothing on this earth is more an example of banal neoliberal capitalism than Disneyland, nothing (except for maybe Epcot, of course). This is a lot of information, and I may not have done a very good job of connecting it all or being as explicit as I could have at explaining how specific references hint at Disney throughout the chapter, and this has already become too long, HOWEVER, I have one final piece of information that blows my DAMN MIND that is likely coincidental, but which I still could not believe I found.
Inspired by the book and wanting to find more connections in the tapestry, I started doing research into Disney’s involvement with the FBI and found some public records about his direct involvement with them on the FBI's website. Walt Disney was a SAC (Special Agent in Charge) for the FBI, according to these documents, for a period of time, interestingly enough, in the late 50s. There are literal letters to Disney from J. Edgar Hoover himself to Disney in these documents. I’ll post them below along with a number of other links that discuss Disney’s connection to the FBI, the last one being particularly fascinating in its connections to the novel.
https://vault.fbi.gov/walter-elias-disney/walter-elias-disney-part-01-of-03/view
http://www.schaakstukkenmuseum.nl/?p=2195&lang=en
http://jfk.hood.edu/Collection/Weisberg%20Subject%20Index%20Files/F%20Disk/FBI/FBI%20Press%20Use%20Of/Item%2009.pdf
https://www.mouseplanet.com/8987/The_Mickey_Mouse_Club_FBIs_Most_Wanted
I very much suggest looking at the Mouse Planet link above. If you have read The Crying of Lot 49 and know who Baby Igor and Metzger is, I VERY MUCH SUGGEST IT. Upon reading this and looking at all the other material, I discovered that there was a child-star, mentioned specifically in these documents, that was to be the child used in a set of documentaries Disney was to make as propaganda films for the FBI specifically, promoting them to the public in 1958. This child’s name was Dirk Metzger. I shit you not. His name was METZGER and he was a child star whose father was in the military. READ THE ARTICLE. His daddy, his doggy, and HIM! And guess what, look at what his profession became after being a child actor in these films? Guess it was: he became a lawyer!!! Baby Igor himself! In the flesh!? Look at the article. It’s all there. I can’t fucking believe it!? Now, I admit, this is all probably just a coincidence. Being 14 in 1958 would put Metzger at being only 21 or so in 1965 when the Crying of Lot 49 came out, so it is unlikely that this is exactly what I think it is, a direct, real, historical correlation, but who knows? Pynchon lived in California at the time. Who knows whom or what he may have come across...
Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe Disneyland is nowhere to be found in the California of The Crying of Lot 49. Maybe this is all, as Hilarius would say, a Rorsoch blot. Maybe I’m simply hallucinating. I will say though, either way, I do think the political exigence of The Crying of Lot 49 has done its work on me. Even if this is only an ink blot, a world I’m projecting rather than one that is actually there, I have certainly done more thinking about Disney, its union-busting, suburban-infused. McCarthy-ian underbelly than I have, maybe ever, and that power, and Pynchon's parable of power he wrote in reaction to it, is something that is very much alive and with us today, it is a power that is still creating indentured servitude and whose malignant, “formless magic” is igniting all around us. Hopefully I, like Oedpia, have gotten a little closer to understanding how it works and counting its line of force. Maybe,
“If the tower is everywhere and the knight of deliverance no proof against its magic, what else?”

I figured this was the better place to post a semi-review of the game, y'all seem more chill. I just finished the game, played as a Corpo, got the secret ending where I stormed the HQ with Johnny, and got The Sun ending, where you straight up rob a space casino.
I'll put the TL;DR here, for those of you who're just scrolling: the game is a masterpiece. One of the best I've played in years. CD tried to do a lot here, more than the Witcher, and while not everything stuck the landing, the hate this game is getting is ludicrously over the top. I don't mean to diss, but games like Fallout 76 and Anthem didn't get this kind of shit, and they deserved it 10X more in my opinion. Hey, at least this game doesn't have any damn time savers or Verizon themed pre order outfits.
I'm gonna get into my main points now, starting with the positives:

1. The soundtrack. It's amazing, from the theme at the main menu to the combat music. the radio stations are all Preem too. There's a little of everything.
2. The voice acting is really solid, I played a male V and he really sounded like Jon Bernthal and Frank Grillo mixed together. Keanu is of course Keanu. Something I also really enjoyed and I hope more games adopt, which I haven't seen mentioned, is people speak different languages. Like not every character speaks perfect English. There are Russians, Japanese, and Spanish gangs and they all speak their respective languages. I dug that, and it's easily explained cause you have translator tech.
3. Similarly to something like Mafia 3, the face models are really out of this world. Character creation is pretty extensive too, I liked being able to give my V crossbones for eyes.
4. Night City itself is drop dead gorgeous at times. When you're driving around North Oak, that long highway just outside town, the city is like something out of Blade Runner.
5. Each district feels really unique, Pacifica and Heywood being favorites of mine. All the fixers have their own shtick, and the gangs are nice and varied. Padre and the Voodoo Boys are great.
6. The combat is solid, and there are a lot of options for different play styles. I kind of opted for a jack of all trades type build, and had a lot of fun. Granted, there's a lot more systems then there need to be, but I'll get to that later.
7. The story itself is gripping, I never lost interest, even when I was off doing side quests I was still thinking about a conversation I'd had with Johnny. Speaking of which--
8. Johnny. I've seen this before, with Handsome Jack in Tales From the Borderlands and the Joker in Arkham Knight, but Cyberpunk really takes a new spin on it. Johnny doesn't just spout off random bullshit all the time--though he does sometimes and it's often great stuff, like him talking about his 'impressive cock'--but he does actively challenge you and get into real discussions with you. He's got a lot of layers that are fun to peel back, and he's a genuinely tragic character. Johnny is written beautifully.
9. The rest of the cast is superb as well. Goro, who really broke my heart when in the ending phone calls he told me to 'Rot in Hell', even though I deserved it. But Julie, River, the guy that wants you to nail him to a cross--they all find a way to stand out.
10. The mission design too I enjoyed, especially in the side gigs. You could be covertly infiltrating a penthouse looking for a priceless guitar one minute, to shooting up an underground nightclub the next. There's the cyber-psychos and all those NCPD crimes, and holy shit, reading those shards was straight up heartbreaking at times. There's story packed in everywhere of this game.

But I've blown the game enough now, time for some constructive criticism.

1. Obviously, performance wise I think we're still a few patches away from being smooth sailing. I've had a few crashes, but mostly I have issues with my controls just freezing up, like not being able to jump or shoot while aiming.
2. There's a disparity in the economy I find, and I haven't seen this mentioned yet, though I could be wrong. The rewards for certain quests, like the amount of credits you earn can be really low. The amount of EXP too. I think these need to be doubled at least, because 1,300 credits for a gig that I was told was 'Very Hard', doesn't check out. It's something to give thought to at least, because right now, unless you abuse the money cheat, getting cash early on can be a little tedious. There could be reward scaling too, based on your level or the area you're in.
3. Combat wise, there are a lot of options, which is good, but at the end of the day blasting people with a revolver that does 1,200 damage is easiest. Melee weapons are fun, as are your cyber hacks, I just feel as though there needs to be more incentive to use them.
4. That brings me to the skill trees. The reason I stuck with handguns is because trying to level up all those individual skills at the same time became almost impossible. Especially certain ones like athletics and engineering. I think a good change here could be either an increase into how much EXP you get form doing certain actions, a reduction in how much EXP you need, or both. Crafting needs this especially when making a legendary item only nets 300 EXP and you need 55,000 to level up.
5. With regards to the life paths, outside of making the intros a little longer, I'd say a more meaningful quest later on would be a nice reward. Using Corpo as an example, the opening ends before you really have a chance to do anything. I think being able to actually complete the hit, or try to and botch the job, would set things up nicely. Also, actually being able to go back and stick it to Jenkins, instead of dealing with that guy who has one conversation with you. I don't need a grand overhaul, just really those two things would do it for me.

So that's really it, I mean I can talk about this game for hours but I know no one has that kind of time. To really wrap up, the response to this game has just really left me speechless. CD isn't perfect, we learned that, but they didn't burn down an orphanage for the blind. When you have companies like Konami that charge you for save slots, and EA--nothing needs to be said about them--it's worth looking at all they get right here.
Visuals can be fixed, as can performance issues. I'm playing on an Xbox One S and I think I've got my $60 worth and more. At the end of the day, if your core game isn't good, then all the patches in the world can't fix that. Here, the core story and game is fantastic, so in lets say a month, I'll be ready for a second play-through no doubt. The hate train is already starting to loose steam, which means hopefully more people will get to experience Night City and all it has to offer.
I appreciate anyone who took the time to read through all my rambling. Keep fighting, Samurais, city won't burn itself!

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * **** END PAGE 1 of 2

…The raging river, pulled them down.
Now they’ll always, be together,
In that Happy Hunting Ground…
- Running Bear by Sonny James
“Snakeyes! New roller, please, next up.” The game runner raked in the dice and chips and ignored the despair in the countenance of the most recent “high roller”. Ted shook his head and other people crowded him away from the dice pit. He was almost out of funds and it was still early. He’d budgeted his, “loss level” carefully to maximize his time at the reservation casino. It was an older one, filled with stereotypical paintings and statues intended to honor the local First Nations Tribes while fulfilling the expectations of rude tourists. He looked around forlornly for a new game to play. He didn’t care for the slots or the drawn-out and ever-shifting card games… ah, Blackjack! There was an opening at the table.
He rushed over before anyone else could snag it and bustled onto the chair. “Okay to deal me in on the next hand?” He interrupted the dealer, who ignored him until he was done dealing out the rest of the players and raking in the chips. He still did not speak but once Ted placed the minimum bet, he flipped a card down in front of him and the game began. Ted immediately started winning the straightforward game. He picked up most of his losses from his unfortunate run at craps and was finally enjoying himself. The couple at the far end of the table had apparently had enough and didn’t care for the new player. Ted liked to talk to new people and thought he was good at it. Before long, the other players had left and it was down to him, the dealer, and an older man, who wore a black cowboy style hat and chain-smoked thin cigarillos.
Ted, grinning heartily at his latest win, glanced over at the man, who had just fired up his next cancer-stick, “You know casinos, and a few bars are the last public places where anyone smokes. I remember when there were smoking sections at most places and my parents told me that there used to be no restrictions. I’ll bet you get plenty of pressure to stop from your family and friends. It’s a pretty bad habit for your long-term health…” Ted usually rambled on past any non-verbal cues that people might give him to stop talking, yet his diatribe came to a screeching halt at the look with which the stern-faced elder favored him.
The older man drew in a long pull on the firestick and then exhaled the stinking cloud into Ted’s face. He coughed a little and gagged at the odor of the raw blend of tobacco and chemicals. The old one removed the cigarillo from his mouth and tapped ashes onto the edge of the table and down onto the floor at his toes, “Sonny, nobody cares. Nobody wants your opinion, and you are not special, no matter what your mommy told you. I’ll do as I please and if you don’t like it, go bother people at another table.”
Ted gaped in shock. In his mind, the man’s words verged on an “assault”. He looked helplessly at the dealer, who just ducked his head and tried not to laugh. Indignant, he rose, took his pile of chips and fled into the depths of the gaming house in search of a friendlier table. He didn’t find one that he liked, so he finally gave up and sat at the bar. The bartender seemed to ignore him in favor of tidying up her workspace. He cleared his throat and received only a glance. He mumbled as much to himself as to her, “I just want a drink while I wait for a table to open.” He wondered at her stony silence, maybe she resents me for being…
His vocal ruminations were interrupted by a feminine voice, “What do you want?”
Ted looked up to see the bartender, mocking smile in place below shining, mesmerizing eyes. Ted simply gaped and eventually worked his jaw uselessly. The bartender shrugged and walked back to the other end of the bar. She spoke with a large man who was clearly part of the security team. He glared at Ted while she spoke. Ted wanted to avoid a confrontation. He’d been conditioned that he should seek authorities if such a situation loomed. Yet casino security was the only available authority here locally. There were Tribal Police on the Reservation, but he wasn’t sure they would want to listen to him. He finally shrugged and decided to go back over to the hotel for the rest of the night. This trip had been very unsatisfying… like all those he’d taken since he moved away from his parents’ home a few years previously.
There was an indoor walkway to the hotel, but Ted decided to go by the outdoor route to get some fresh air and enjoy the natural beauty that the builders had incorporated into the facility. As he walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, local flora pressing in from each side, he heard, from the nearby forest, a screeching wail. It startled him and he had to stop a moment to catch his breath and wait for his heart rate to slow to something more manageable. He realized that it must have been an owl or some other night bird. His father had told him that there were always weird noises “out in the sticks”.
As he plunged his hands into his pockets and determined to go to his room for rest, he caught the faint smell of burning tobacco on the breeze. It wafted over his shoulder from behind and caused him to emit a feeble cough. He looked back in annoyance. In the shadows behind him, he saw a figure. It was dark and stood still in a way that made him uncomfortable. An orange glowing circle of embers hovered around the face and rendered just enough light to illuminate the blue-grey curls of smoke as they exited the tiny conflagration and rose above the brim of a black hat. The ember flared for a moment and then flashed to the ground and was snuffed by a shadowed… foot? It wasn’t exactly clear to Ted; the figure’s lower extremities were... blurred. An even brighter flare, from a lighter or match stabbed into Ted’s eyes as the Smoker lit his next cigarillo.
Ted glared irritation but felt uncomfortable at the unnatural stillness to which the figure returned once the new fire was lit. He coughed once more, this time deliberately in a passive-aggressive attempt to communicate his displeasure and resumed his walk. He strained to listen behind him to determine whether the figure followed. He truly wished to get away from the stink and the threat of cancer or other respiratory illnesses. He slowed to listen, then gave up and looked over his shoulder again. There was no figure in the dark back near the exit to the casino. He turned to resume his walk, but a smoky black form now loomed before him! Its eyes glowed and smoked like large twin cigars as it gaped a maw that emitted pure black smoke and glowed with blue flames within the deep tunnel of the throat. Ted’s consciousness fled his body and found itself in a burning nightmare landscape that extended for as far as he could perceive in all directions.
**** * ****
Darnell, known to his public as “Murder Bush” a deliberate mistranslation of “merde bouche” a.k.a. “Deadly Rapper” for having been a suspect in a shooting back in his youth, stepped up to the dice pit as the geeky dude left. He had plenty of chips and cash to back them. His entourage was there to support him and kiss his backside as often as he wished. He rolled through six passes before he crapped out. He hadn’t over-bet, so he’d won a small amount. He picked up his latest winning chips and handed them to the hostess who had kept him well plied with drinks and snacks. He was sure that for the right price, she would take care of his other needs. He played a few card tables and finished with Roulette.
Each time he won a few chips, he passed them on to the young woman or to one of his flunkies. In the end, they had all received at least some reward for the praises they’d heaped upon him; not for any real accomplishments, but rather to curry favor with the man whom they considered to be wealthy and important: a celebrity. The girl stayed at his side and except for when he asked her questions, she said nothing. He liked that: bitch know her place, he reveled in internal satisfaction. He liked her looks too. She was medium height and a little, “thick”. She was clearly interested but hadn’t gotten in his way when he flirted with other women. He truly liked this one. The more he considered her, the more he wanted to get down to business.
Eventually, he posed the question to her, “How much for the next few hours?” His brazen suggestion that she would take money for sexual favors was the final test. If she grew angry, then she didn’t appreciate his genius…
“Whatever you think is fair. How about we see if I can satisfy you? If I can, then you may want to be generous… as you have been so far.” She hefted the chips so that the pieces clinked in her palm. “If not, I don’t deserve a reward.”
She had passed with flying colors. Might even take this one back to civilization with me, he purred in his mind. He’d always thought of himself as a Big Cat… maybe a leopard or jaguar, definitely something dangerous and sleek. His need grew more intense by the moment. He desperately wanted this woman. “Come on, let’s go to my room.” He husked in a voice grown thick with desire.
They reached his suite, his groupies having been dismissed to their own nefarious pursuits, even his bodyguard. The big man had shrugged, “Your call boss-man.” and then stumped across the hallway to his own room. Now he was finally alone with… her. He stripped off his shirt and flipped his shoes into a corner. She stood by the window and watched. The drinks he’d consumed finally caught up with him before he’d shucked his pants and drawers, “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He was excited, which made urinating a challenge, but it had to be done, so that he could maximize his pleasure. When he stepped from the restroom, au natural, he saw that his latest conquest had done the same and now stood, bare to the world and staring out the window, all the curtains on it pushed to one side, so that the night loomed and the light of a single small desk lamp lit the room. He stalked over to her, ready to take her right there at the window in full view of anyone who looked up from the outside. He secretly hoped for an audience. He enjoyed having others watch him take what he wanted.
She turned to face him, her head lowered… no, it had sunken into her body, only her hair remained above her shoulders! A… mouth, gaping and slavering opened on her stomach, a mouth too large for her body and rimmed with rows of teeth like sharpened spikes. She stepped forward to embrace him and the screaming began… sounds that he was accustomed to eliciting from others rather than emitting from his own person.
**** * ****
“Rhino” was unhappy. He didn’t like to leave Darnell unattended. Perhaps now that his boss was in the room, he could go stand guard outside the door. He took care of some personal ablutions as he wolfed down a couple of energy bars and then walked out into the hallway. He started to settle in front of Darnell’s door, when he heard a muffled scream and faint… slobbering-gobbling noises come from the other side. He quickly tried the door, initially too panicked to think of the extra key card with which Darnell had entrusted him. He fumbled for it and soon had the door open. The interior was completely dark. The light from the hallway spilled inward but didn’t seem to reach as far into the room as it should.
He drew his pistol from the holster on his waistband and began to stalk forward, “Boss, you okay? You hurt?” The room was as silent as a tomb, he shivered a little as that thought crossed his mind. Over by the closed drapes, he smelled something awful: fresh blood and spilled entrails… recent death. His feet squelched on wet carpet. He turned around quickly. There had been no noise, but he’d felt a… presence. There she stood, arms spread wide, mouth on her gut spread wider. Rhino wasn’t one to scream or yell, even in extremis, so no others would come to this room to investigate.
**** * ****
Shelly was glad when the rowdy group left the roulette wheel that sat behind her favorite row of slots. The former “one-armed bandits”, that were now, “multiple button digital bandits” lined every available wall space, and in some spaces stood in rows that drew regulars like a dung-heap draws flies. She’d grabbed her favorite machine early in the evening and sat sliding in dollar bills and working up her points. It was called “Buffalo Dance” and featured images of American Bison and feather-bedecked hunters. The theme on the screen matched and she hoped to one day see the “White Buffalo” image adorn the entire set of images… the grand prize view. Despite the fun graphics, it was her favorite because it was near a restroom and a free soda and snack bar. She found herself ahead and on a roll. She absently lipped her dangling cigarette back into her mouth for a long draw. The smoke obscured the screen for a moment, and then she noted a shadow that lengthened across the reflective surface. Someone stood close behind her. Someone who exuded a chilly air. She paused and looked around, “Can I help you?”
There was no answer, though the shadow shifted slightly as if its caster had heard her.
Now she grew annoyed, this is just the sort of thing to break my winning streak! she raged internally. She braced her hands against the machine and worked her buttocks to make the stool on which she perched spin, so she could confront her harasser. She gaped, and nearly lost her cigarette, there was no one standing near enough to cast the shadow. No one even faced her. She chalked it up to excitement, maybe someone stepped too close when passing to go to the restroom, she thought, still a little annoyed and... chilled.
She turned back to her game and continued working the buttons, pumping in bills, and winning, a little at a time, the points now built well above her investment. This weekend is gonna pay for the last two months of losing and breaking even, she thought triumphantly. The shadow loomed across the screen once more, this time even larger, as though the figure that cast it stood closer. The shape was amorphous but hinted at anthropomorphic. She shivered as an icy breeze flowed around her, as though the air conditioning had sent out a short, cold burst, a minor malfunction…
She turned around with more alacrity and determination than the last time, mouth agape, cigarette once more dangling… precipitously and endangering the cleavage she displayed, already baked and wrinkled from years of sunbathing. The frigid air passed, and no one stood anywhere near her, though a customer approached, headed for either snacks or relief. “Excuse me sir, did you just see someone, maybe a large man, standing behind me?”
The man paused and looked at her in confusion. He had clearly been absorbed in his own thoughts, “Er, what? Uh, No. I wasn’t really paying attention, but… no.” He bustled on toward the free fountain drinks machine.
Shelly shrugged, can’t give up now, the pot is even bigger. She checked her points; she was nearing her all-time high. The winnings would pay her space rental fee at the RV park for the entire month. She pressed and played the buttons more fervently than ever, determined to break the bank on straight points or to reach that magical spin that would offer an instant reward of $10,000.00. She set her new points record and reveled for a moment. She reached for the now small stack of dollar bills the rest having been devoured by the machine. She fed in the entire remaining amount, then once more gazed at the screen. It was entirely blackened by a looming shadow.
The temperature of the air around her plummeted and she shuddered with the sudden biting cold. The cigarette was long extinguished, and she’d let the cold fag fall into the ash tray built onto the side of the machine opposite the drink holder. She was so cold, and she wanted to cry out for help, but the darkness closed in around her as the shadow enveloped her and cut off her breathing. Her fingers, paused above the “spin” button, struck and as her consciousness faded, she saw the flashing blue light and heard the blare of the winner’s siren. White Buffalo images filled all nine spaces. I won! The grand prize!
**** * ****
Terry filled his large cup and stood sipping and daydreaming. He’d lost everything he’d budgeted to lose. Yet he knew that one more try would put him back in black for this trip. He mused about what he would do with the prize money. He’d set his limit at $300.00 and had quickly lost it all on slots. Maybe he could risk just a few more dollars… skip a lunch or two until his next paycheck if it didn’t work. He was startled by the jackpot winner’s flashing light and siren that went off just behind him. That bitch! He yelled internally. Figures some old used up skank would win the big prize. He looked over at the nearby machine with anger and envy vying for control of his senses. She was gone!
He stepped over to the machine and looked around in confusion. Maybe she’d gone to the restroom? No, she’d have passed right by me. He shook his head and stepped up to look at the screen. He could still feel the recent presence of a player, the trace of warmth from a human body that might linger in a space for just a moment after the human had vacated the space. He looked around the casino floor, she was nowhere in sight. She’d been wearing a low-cut silver-spangled top that was cut way too low for her sagging, sun-ravaged bosom. She should be easy to spy, she looked like a deflated disco ball that had fallen from the ceiling to play slots. The only thing that came his way was a train of employees, led by a waitress in a skimpy outfit with purple sparkles and carrying a tray with a glass and a dark bottle. She was followed by other employees, who’d formed a sort of conga line: they sang a congratulatory chorus as they approached.
Terry gaped for a moment when he realized that they thought he was the big winner. He’d have to deny it of course. Surely the woman would be back at any moment to claim her prize. The floor cameras would have recorded who had sat at the machine, but it was too late. The group of enthused employees encircled him, and the attractive young waitress poured him a glass of champagne and snuggled up to him. The manager approached and seized his hand for a vigorous shake, “Well done sir! I see that not only have you hit the jackpot, but you’ve raised an additional $3,000.00 in points. A fabulous prize and well played I’m sure.”
Terry was flabbergasted. He’d never won anything like this… I still haven’t, not really, he reminded himself. He rarely broke even on his gambling forays, whether to the casino, or the corner store for lottery tickets and video slots. He allowed himself to be swept into the reverie and led from the machine to the bar. The employees peeled away as they approached, and he soon found himself with only the bottle and a receipt that he could cash out before he left the premises. A sullen-looking woman stood behind the bar, wiping glasses and a large, mean-looking security staffer menaced the far end. He already had his bottle, so he wasn’t sure why the staff members had deposited him with these two killjoys. He shrugged, picked up the champagne and started to walk away from the bar.
“You can’t take that with you. Either drink it here or give it to me and I’ll put it in the trash.” The bartender stated in monotone.
The security officer stood up straight from where he’d been leaning against the far wall, apparently propping up the building. He folded his massive arms in a threatening manner. Silly, thought Terry, folded arms should be a hindrance, but I get the feeling he’s dangerous regardless. He figured that he’d had enough anyway and set the nearly empty bottle on the bar, “You can keep it ma’am. I can afford another at the hotel.” Terry started to walk away from the bar, but a huge ham-like hand seized his shoulder.
Sausage-sized fingers applied painful pressure, “You apologize to the lady.” The wet heat from a mouth placed uncomfortably close to his ear and beath smelling of river bottom, sent a shiver of disgust through his body. The voice was low and deep as the river that ran past the back side of the property.
Terry decided on the better part of valor and head facing forward to avoid the obscene orifice, “Sorry ma’am, I meant no offense.”
The fingers let go and a harsh laugh sounded from behind the bar. “He don’t even know why he’s apologizing, fool. He ain’t worth the trouble, let him go.”
Terry felt a slight shove and he was sent on his way to the cash-out window. There he met with the lead cashier, an older woman in drab clothing, “I’m sorry sir, we give out only these pre-paid cards, we cannot provide cash over $1,000.00. However, you can treat them like a debit or credit card.” the cashier informed him. It seemed he had no choice, so he accepted. Thirteen grand is thirteen grand, he assured himself. He was elated, though he continued to glance around nervously, waiting for the woman in the sparkly fish-scale top to accost him and name him thief. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. The floor was full of players, some laughing, some intense, some dejected or mesmerized by the games of chance in which they’d lost themselves.
He thought about what to do with the rest of his evening. He didn’t have a hotel room; he’d planned to sleep in his station wagon as he always did before the long haul home. Perhaps he should get a room? Maybe they would take him without a reservation… he giggled a little at the unintended pun: a reservation at the Reservation… he shook his head to clear his overreaction to the silly internal joke. He decided that maybe someone on staff could help him. He approached the major domo at the front entrance that led to the interior walkway and the hotel beyond, “Excuse me sir, do you know whether the hotel will accept a resident without a prior reservation?”
The man, single dark braid wrapped in a leather holder and draped over one shoulder, looked at him gravely, “Yes, I know.” He said nothing more and did not smile as though he’d intended to be humorous.
Terry tried again, “Will you tell me please?”
The man flicked his chin in the direction of the hotel, “See the clerk at the desk.”
“Jerk, you’d think I hadn’t pissed away enough cash in this place over the past few years,” Terry muttered as he stumped toward the hotel, ensuring that he was well beyond earshot before he spoke. His head had begun to buzz a little from the champagne. Took a while for it to affect me, he mused. The hallway appeared to narrow, and his peripheral vision grew grey. He felt dizzy and as he entered the main lobby, the large room began to spin. His last view was of the sky-blue ceiling decorated with a few puffy clouds as it faded into darkness like the sun had set.
He awakened to the sounds of voices chattering happily. He looked around, his vision blurred slightly and his head feeling heavy and sore. He soon found that he could not move his arms or legs… they were bound… he was strapped to a table. He saw numerous bodies moving about in the mostly dark space in which he found himself. “Please.” He croaked, throat dry and feeling scraped. “Please, help me, let me loose. Loose me…” his perceptions cleared slowly, and he saw that the bodies that moved around him, now chanting rhythmically rather than babble-chattering, were emaciated. The owners showed as much bone through their skin as would a dead thing, long decayed. He noted spikes above a few heads… no, antlers… The rest wore… masks? Of various beasts… no, the skulls of those creatures, still filled with glistening fangs. Their dance grew ever more frantic, more energetic than they should be capable of performing. Then one of them reached out with a stick, on the end of which was a small claw, taken and preserved from some dead animal. It used the claw to gouge out a scoop of flesh from Terry’s side. He screamed in torment and horror. His screams soon matched the rhythm of the chanting and they went on for a long time before they at last faded when he’d lost too much blood to remain conscious.
**** * ****

Peacock Patricia "Peacock" Watson Gallery | Quotes | Move List Peacock action portrait by oh8-d2qigab.jpg Murder-Go-Round Information Peacock (JP: ピーコック) was originally a human girl by the name of Patricia Watson who was turned into an Anti-skullgirl biomechanical weapon by Dr. Avian. Her arsenal consists of the Argus System, a synthetic Parasite, and her "gang", which includes the Avery Unit, Andy Anvil, Tommy Ten-Tons, George Bomb, and Lonesome Lenny.
General Information Peacock is one of the original eight playable characters in Skullgirls, standing out as having the most (unique) assist characters, and was among the first characters ever conceived by Alex Ahad. Her backstory was revealed in detail in the "Meaner. Better. Faster. Stronger" Origin Story in Skullgirls Mobile. Her homestage is Lab 8.
Peacock is capable of aging. Some of her parts may need to be re-fitted because of this.
Peacock took up smoking after her transformation. They are imaginary cigars that are created in a similar manner to her other summons.
Alex Ahad has stated that Peacock will never stop believing in imaginary friends.
Peacock's favorite television program is "Annie: Girl of the Stars". She is shown to own merchandise from the show as she is seen wearing Sagan slippers while in her sleeping attire.
Personality Nothing sates Peacock's boredom more than a good cartoon and laying waste to anyone or anything in her sight. Brash, combative, and impatient, Peacock is easily the most outspoken and infamous member of the Anti-Skullgirl Labs, as well as the most prominent. Peacock is also, for the most part, optimistic and light-hearted, and considers imminent threats more of invitations to brawl. Her tendency toward violence is a reflection of both her tragic past and near-death experience as well as the cartoons she cherishes.
Despite having a damaged psyche, Peacock does not attack people out of sheer randomness or without provocation. Although rude and impersonal to fellow ASG Lab 8 members (and most people in general) superficially, Peacock still very much considers them family, and will go to certain lengths to protect them from harm (or in the case of her and Big Band's story mode, further harm). Dr. Avian was particularly close to Peacock, and his death sent her into an outrage to search for his murderer.
None, however, are closer to Peacock than Marie Korbel, her one true friend from her past and the Skullgirl she was tasked to destroy. In the end, she disposes of Marie as she was instructed, but personally sees to it that Marie's wish to end the Medici Mafia is carried out.
Character Basis Origin Peacock's dialogue and animations reference multiple cartoon eras, but chiefly feature 40's-50's era cartoon violence and slapstick.
Name Her true name is Patricia Watson, while she herself came up with Peacock. The word "peacock" is the more commonly known name of the peafowl, but is actually the term for the male bird.
The name Patricia is derived from the Latin word "patrician" and means "noble". Watson is a patronymic surname meaning "son of Walter". It should be noted that Walter means "ruler of the army", which accurately describes her relationship with her gang.
Being once close friends, Marie continues to address her as Patricia. Her gang typically refer to her as "boss".
Design Her natural eye color used to be green before they were gouged out by slave traders. The Argus System is Peacock's only means of sight, as the ones on her face are actually empty eye-sockets. The holes left are also a visual pun: Due to her design being based on American cartoons, her eye-sockets could easily be interpreted as though they are natural eyes; drawn in the style of a 1930's cartoon character. The joke is how similar styles of drawing can offer different perceptions on how something looks. Her references are similar to the 30's such as Mickey Mouse.
Her cartoon revolver bears resemblance to the Smith & Wesson Model 29, a .44 Magnum revolver made famous by Clint Eastwood's Dirty Harry.
In older design concepts, Peacock was intended to be a more "demented type" character, originally being envisioned as a scarred, sociopathic individual due to her experience as a slave. At one point, she was considered to be a boss alongside Marie. Her design was changed to be more 'cartoony' and lighthearted. These design documents also included references to her abilities being part magic with spells being carved onto her bones.
Story Patricia once lived with Marie in an orphanage, which was originally a nobleman's house, in Rommelgrad. Having to make do with what was available, both girls used to dress in maid outfits that they found within the house. At some point, they were captured by slave traders, but because Patricia was too defiant to be a slave, she was mutilated as an example to the others: Her eyes were gouged out, and she was also maimed.
Patricia before peacock.png Patricia as a patient at Lab 8 One year prior to the events of Skullgirls, Lab 8 teamed up with Lab 0 and the Last Peacock Hooded.png Patricia before becoming Peacock Hope to infiltrate the Medici warehouse said to be containing Rommelgrad's refugees. Although Valentine and the rest of her gang safely rescued the refugees, there was very little Valentine could do to repair the damage done to Patricia's body and was even willing to abandon her as a casualty of war. Big Band, however, believed that Dr. Avian would be of help and took the girl back to the Anti-Skullgirl Labs. The doctor informed him that Patricia would adapt well to her new eyes and that she would be walking in no time. Patricia became insistent on becoming an ASG soldier after the impression left on her by Lab 8's team. Despite that, Avian was wary about giving her too much power, while admitting her compatibility with the Avery Unit is strong. After some tests, Patricia's Argus System and Avery Unit were completely installed, and the combination proved to make her more powerful than the scientists had anticipated. Instead of being able to bend only space, Patricia could also bend other aspects of reality, spawning Tommy and Andy during her training. Eager to sign up for Lab 8's team, she assigned herself the name "Peacock".
She later vanished into the city with her gang, causing Lab 8's crew to worry immensely about her safety and condition after her surgery, and Stanley insisted that Big Band find her as soon as possible. Following her trail, Big Band stumbled upon an ice cream stand from which Peacock and her gang ate all of the ice cream except for Rocky Road. He considered this a clue, but later assumes that she was merely stress eating due to all the strange new occurrences happening to her all at once. He finally arrived at a movie theater, where he found the "clown car" that Peacock was said to have driven away in. As the vehicle appeared damaged, he burst into the theatre, assuming that the Medici may have returned for her. Peacock is revealed to be perfectly fine, having gone around the town because she felt she needed a break from the labs. The two begin to hit it off; although Big Band tells her she could have taken a break without causing property damage, they begin to connect through what they like most in a movie.
Ending: After defeating the Skullgirl, which turns out to be her best friend Marie, Peacock destroys the Skull Heart, though the skull heart claimed her act to be "foolish" and that this will "not be over". She and Marie have a friendly conversation before Marie disappears from the world, and Peacock vows to take revenge on the people who made both their lives miserable.
She is seen confronting the true head of the Medici family and his own secret weapon (Black Dahlia) and the two duke it out.
Abilities & Fighting Style With Peacock's physics-bending arsenal, nothing is sacred. She is a kind of character that will exploit any opportunity to its maximum and get away with it. No enemies of hers last long against her sharp eyes and sharper gun...blades. Her opponents last even shorter against her array of flower pots, baseballs, bowling balls, combustible toy cars, and countless other hazards that fill the air. Peacock never plays fairly, and isn't afraid to call in her goons to fight with her. In the rare occasions when Peacock can't topple her opponent, she can simply stall the battle until the timer runs out.
The Avery Unit has the power to “distort” which is a side effect of Peacock’s insanity. She can’t create things out of thin air, but rather modify Lab 8’s range of specialized arsenal. There are certain limits and her summons are only temporary. Her power is still growing so she may be able to summon more things in the future. This is suggested in Big Band's story mode, were he warns Peacock that she 'ain't ready' yet and has to be taught her 'limitations the hard way', but understands her potential in the future by saying 'we're gonna need those girls if we don't want to lose the last of the light'.
Trailer Skullgirls Introducing Peacock!Skullgirls Introducing Peacock! Color Palettes Peacock's Color Palettes.png Peacockcolors23-25.png "Rerun" - Default colors "Inkling" - Original colors "Untouchable" - Alucard (Hellsing) "Sketchy" - Original colors Original colors "Pea Shooter" - Lucky the Leprechaun (Lucky Charms cereal) "Dream Catcher" - Peacock's story mode intro pajamas "That's All Folks!" - Black-and-white cartoons "Freeze Frame" - Cirno (Touhou) Original colors Milk-Chan (Super Milk-Chan) Original colors Easy Default colors Hsien-Ko Original colors "Ultraviolent" - The Warden (Superjail) Inspector Gadget (Inspector Gadget) Sayaka Miki (Puella Magi Madoka Magica) Raspberyl (Disgaea series) - Indiegogo backer color ”Mean One” - The Grinch (How the Grinch Stole Christmas!) Princess Daisy (Super Mario series) Indian peafowl - Indiegogo backer color "Wildcard" - The Joker (DC Comics) - Indiegogo backer color Nonon Jakuzure (Kill la Kill) Annie Cuphead (Cuphead) Woody (Toy Story) Trivia Peacock's Ant Wasted move (c.MK) does not kill the ant, but rather the beam from the magnifying glass teleports it back to a safe area. In addition, all ants (if Peacock summons multiple through cancelling the move repeatedly) are the same ant, summoned from alternate universes. People who donated $50 to the Skullgirls Evo 2013 Breast Cancer Donation Drive could request a personalized voice mail message from one of the game's voice actors. Peacock's voice actress was requested to sing "Yakko's World" from the cartoon show Animaniacs and two versions of this cover exist, the original with the voice unmodified and the Lab Zero edit which has the voice modified to match the filter Peacock's voice has in-game.[1] The name of Peacock's "Robo With a Shotgun" move is a reference to the 2011 film "Hobo With a Shotgun," which in turn is based on a fake trailer in the intermission of the Quentin Tarantino/Robert Rodriguez double feature film Grindhouse. In an unused alternate ending, Peacock decides to "wish for something cool" and proceeds to make numerous outrageous wishes (such as turning the world's oxygen into chocolate), which the Skull Heart is unable to fulfill. Comically frustrated, she begins questioning its legend, and the Skull Heart laments that, in the thousands of years it has been doing its work, Peacock is the worst wisher it has met.[2] Peacock originally had an aerial move where she would fire one of her eyes off her Argus arms in a similar fashion to a bow and arrow. This move was dropped for being useless.[3] Peacocks's alternate title, The Murder-go-Round (and the full phrase from her character poster, "The 'Murder-go-Round' Broke Down") is a reference to the Looney Tunes theme song, from 1937 to 1969, known officially as "The Merry-go-Round Broke Down", reflecting her vintage cartoon theme.[4] Her Shadow of Impending Doom Level 3 - Avery drop is a reference to DIO's 'Road Roller Da!' super move from the 1998 arcade game JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. References ↑ Original Post of the Song Cover & Later Post with the Lab Zero Edit ↑ Alternate Unused Story Endings in the Game Data ↑ Skullgirls E3 2011 Peacock gameplay revealed - YouTube ↑ Wikipedia article v • d • e Skullgirls Games Main Editions Skullgirls • Skullgirls Encore • Skullgirls 2nd Encore Spin-offs Skullgirls Mobile Characters Main Cast Filia (Samson) • Cerebella • Peacock (Avery) • Parasoul • Ms. Fortune • Painwheel • Valentine • Double DLC Squigly (Leviathan) • Big Band • Fukua • Eliza (Sekhmet) • Beowulf • Robo-Fortune • Annie Other Adam • Aeon • Albus • Andy Anvil • Beatrix • Black Dahlia • Brain Drain • Delilah • Dr. Avian • Dr. Geiger • Feng • George Bomb • Grendel • Hive • Horace • Hubrecht • Ileum • Irvin • Isaac • King Franz • Lawrence • Leduc • Lonesome Lenny • Lorenzo • Marie • Minette • Molly • Mother • Mrs. Victoria (D. Violet) • Ottomo • Panzerfaust • Queen Nancy • Rachel Wong • Regina • Riccardo • Roberto • Roxie • Scythana • Selene • Stanley • Taliesin • Tommy Ten-Tons • Umbrella • Venus • Vitale • Yu-Wan • Misc. Archives Terminology Skullgirl • Skull Heart • Parasite • Living Weapon • Medici Mafia • Anti-Skullgirl Labs • Black Egrets • Cirque des Cartes • Fishbone Gang • The Last Hope • The Trinity Stages Streets of New Meridian • River King Casino • Medici Tower • New Meridian Rooftops • Rooftops Assault • NMO Arena | (Empty) • Bath of Tefnut | (Sekhmet) • Maplecrest • Nightmare Crest • Grand Cathedral | (Empty) • Final Atrium • Gehenna • Under the Bridge • Meridian Area Rapid Transit • Little Innsmouth | (Night) • Lab 8 | (Empty) • Glass Canopy • Class Notes • Sound Stage 15 Misc. System HUD • Controls • Basic Mechanics • Advanced Mechanics Extras Art Gallery • Marie 300% • The Typing of the Skullgirls Music Skullgirls Original Soundtrack • Skullgirls Original Soundtrack PLUS • Skullgirls Soundtrack Listing • In a Moment's Time • Hitomi No Kioku Character Quotes • Scripts • Galleries • Relationships • Move Lists Other Media SkullgirlS • Skullgals • Keep Skullgirls Growing! • Digital Art Compendium