Stubb swaggered through the opening doors of Casino Magog, giving his black suit jacket a slight fluff as he pushed the glass door in. He felt the cold air-conditioning on his face, and his hand unconsciously went up to his hair and ruffled it. He gave a wink to the women at the bar and strode up to the money-to-chip window and flipped two thousand mollah casually onto the counter.
"Give me forty fifty chips, please." Stubb asked the slig behind the window. The slig nodded and pushed the appropriate chips across the window, where Stubb gathered them and slipped them into the small pink chip bag that came with them. They gave that wonderful plastic jingle that only money can. He walked up to the bar, pointedly leaning on it near a rather busty female mudo wearing a red dress with a slit up the leg. Her hair was a dark brown, and she was beautiful enough that she could be a Big Cheese's 'entertainer'. She was taking delicate sips from what looked like a martini.
Stubb motioned to the bartender, who was a mudo pud in a tuxedo vest and shirt, complimented by a bow tie. Apparently the owner didn't spare expenses when it came to even the lower workers.
"Yes, sir?" The bartender asked. "How can I help you?"
"Ah, yes. I'd like a bourbon and water, thank you. On the rocks."
"Very good, sir. Coming right up."
While the bartender worked on the drink, Stubb turned to the female in the red dress.
"So, you come here often?"
She turned toward Stubbs.
"Bite me."
Having said that, she smashed the martini glass over Stubb's head. The bartender slid the bourbon and water into his hand, and Stubbs drank the whole thing in one gulp, slammed it back on the counter, then toppled onto the ground, blacking out.
When he came to, he was lying on top of a blackjack table and his bag of chips were gone. He couldn't see anything, until he realized he had a lampshade on his head. He pulled it off, sat up, and realized it was dark outside. He thought hard. It had been about three in the afternoon when he got smashed over the head, now it was around eight pm.
Stubb whistled. Five hours. That was probably his new record. He climbed off the table, took out a pack of Lung-Buster cigarette from his pocket, shook a few out, and stuck one between his lips. He then flipped out his lighter and lit it.
Stubb ambled over to a slot machine and put in a quarter, then pulled the arm. Then wheels spun, then stopped to show Stubb wasn't a winner. It was like that the next fifty two times, with breaks in between for more quarters and a single bathroom break, where he noticed his head had bled pretty bad from a cut above his right eye made by the martini glass. Thankfully, it hadn't been deep, and he managed to wash the tacky blood off pretty easily.
OOC: Waiting for someone to show up now, so I can continue with something interesting.
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