Challenges: SciFi Short Stories

Fartime Paradise

"Red or Black"

In casino insides, the lost bleed money and among them stands Jimmy, far from break-even point, holding the last chance to break away from a rotten fate.

"Wait," he warns while calling all the deities.

"I need to clock-out man," frets the croupier on the brink of exhaustion, "and you are dry. Just let me dabble, and go join another table."

"You can't do this to me! Your name is Jim, like the dog I had during my teens. He always brought me luck."

"Told you, man. We use 'nyms."

"We have the same age! 31! And, and, July's horoscope predicted that close mates will bring me luck."

"We ain't man," he shouts before quickly toning down under his approaching supervisor glare, "I will give you one bit of luck," he then discretely spells a phone number, "gives them a call tonight."

"You are the best!" claims Jimmy, trying to hold his hands but received a cold one.

"I'm out now, this is your last bet. Red or Black," last calls the croupier before hurling the ball on the roulette.

"Black!" shouts Jimmy.

***

In hotel insides, the arids lose their sleep and among them hides Jimmy in the closet, while gruelling sound-steps arise at the door ajar.

"Where is the broke rat?" grumbles the owner while his steward tames the flames, "Dickingly! I know where you are hiding! Com'here so I kick you ass'out!

"He already left... Maybe?"

"I swear, I saw him crawling in the hall."

"Looks," notices the steward while grabbing the room's card on the floor, "without it he won't be able to use lights and AC, or even shower."

"You think rats care about it? Next day, I will find my mattress and towels sold on the avenue. Damn! Let's go to the CCTV."

Jimmy leaves the closet a moment later. The panic hits his face, as his shoulders get flattened with the shame, as his pockets got flatten with losses. But he remembered the silver line, the number given by the croupier, and quickly grabs the phone. A calming melody embraces his temples, soothing his pain until an articulated voice erupts.

"Do you want to go back in time?"

"Ye- yeah," answers timidly Jimmy.

"The time where you had time and money."

"Yes! Yes! Oh! Yes!" shouts Jimmy while fisting vigorously the air.

"Then meet us next Wednesday at the Gamblers Anonymous, we will be waiting for-"

Jimmy hangs up in fumes.

"He fucked me! That croupier. I will find him. But, but, I need to enter the Casino, and without money...." he then looks at the towels, "Maybe?"

Full of nerve or missing of them, Jimmy, blinkered by fear, slowly walks out from the main entrance, but obviously get called out by the thunderstruck owner who was just talking with a cop in front of the CCTV.

"It's him! Jimmy Dickingly!"

The cop marches slowly, but it was too much for Jimmy's mind which lost all reasoning capabilities. They both set off on a chase. Rain is pouring outside, adding an unnecessary dramatic mood for the beggars along the sideways, while cups fills more with tear drops than coins. Paradoxically unexpectedly, Jimmy was astonished by his cardio, but not the cop who knocked him cold on the bitumen.