What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas (in 4D) (984 hits)
Category: Humor -> Dumb JobsRating: 1 on 9 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Drone of Industry (View user info) at 2004-11-17 13:29:39 EST
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!" the BIG BIG BOSS chuckled. Every employee raised his glass to give a toast to Vegas and the future of the company. This was the trip I'd been waiting for near a year to attend... the trip I pridefully gloated about to all my freinds when I first got this cock-a-many job as a slot machine designer/animator. A few weeks prior to it, I felt myself actually dreading the Las Vegas venture, but when the big day came, I let down my guard, and allowed myself to become vulnerable to the exploits of Sin City.
I had to ride "bitch" on the plane. I always get center seat when I take a plane somewhere! In my passive aggression I decided to deface the UniTED Airline magazines with the most malignant, adolescent humor on the face of the earth. No thought necessary! While the aircraft's tv asked Hillary Duff questions about her text messaging skills... I crucified Joey (from 'Freinds') on a cross, I peirced all of the noggins of the Today Show crew with a giant skewer, I drew a big squirting dick on Spiderman, I filled in the crossword puzzle with every dirty word I could think of, I put swaztikas and broken teeth on all the supermodel foreheads, and I wrote "Go Off Roading in your Thirty Fucking Thousand Dollar Dickmobile" on the SUV add. A real hoot, I tell ya.
After nearly four hours you could finally see the decadent seizure of some epileptic lifeform, flashing in the endless tundra of darkness. And as we slowly spiraled downward into Vegas, the suction from within the center of Vegas's surrounding circle of mountains jostled the plane into a fit of turbulence. With my eyes closed and some soft music whispering thru my earphones, I took myself to a place of peace. I thought about life and everything 'good' and 'bad' that I had done. And I felt ok about it. Whatever happened, happened! I made my amends with the universe and knew that all was okay.
Of coarse, the plane landed safely, and everyone had a killer head ache to boot. The head ache continued throughout the rest of the night as we drove from casino to casino to look for our company's slot machines. To see the Las Vegas strip for the first time was pretty amazing, except for the fact that we were in a dumb rental car and I was riding "bitch" again, straining my neck to see out the windows. We eventually drove back to the hotel, the New York New York, which was a series of plastic buildings replicating Manhattan, enclosed with a loopty loop rollercoaster, and blemished with a giant billboard of Rita Rudner doing the splits. I didn't stay up long to explore. I put up my hands in surrender and headed to my suite on the 10th floor. Then I made love to my hand and fell asleep.
Bright and early but far from chipper, I met my fellow employees at the front door the next morning. Off to an overpriced breakfast buffet and then to the BIG slot machine convention, GCE: The purpose for our existence!
So much overstimulation leaves you completely lackadaisical. As everything constantly pulls you off of your train of thought, your environment takes the wheel, and your on auto pilot, slowly stepping into each distraction in mindless awe! I could barely talk to my fellow employees. There wasn't one interesting thought going thru my head. It doesn't take long before your brain is hollowed out, your heels are aching, and you become a shell of a human. There were scandally clad women everywhere to entice you with their corporate swag. And there were these sniveling weasels with pinched rat faces, sporting high fallootin business suits, gelled hair, and really white teeth caked in bullshit. And there I was... dead inside.
But talk about egos! I felt like I was the only REAL person at this convention! "Am I the only fucking person here that is not a fraud of a human!" I thought. But as I've said before... "Who are the REAL people, and who is to say who the REAL people are?" In other words, "Who am I to judge." And thinking this, I see a huddle of people in the distance enflamed in an assault of flashing lights. "What's all the hoopla about?" Stepping a bit closer I could make out the center of attention. Clint fucking Eastwood my ass! ...playing the Fistfull of Dollars slot machine! They had cut the inaugural tape and christened the slot series with the authentic finger prints of Mr Eastwood himself!
At first glance I felt sorry for him. This celebrity playin some poorly executed slot machine about his hay day in the biz. He wore a half smile and a blank stare as he humored an audience of flashbulbs. The weasel business men would instruct him with wide eyes what buttons to push. You knew their mouths were watering as they pulled the strings of their American icon. It was kind of depressing. But then I thought... "I just saw Clint fucking Eastwood! That is the first 1st rate celebrity I have EVER seen in my entire life! Wait till I tell everybody at home about this!"
And the world became a much brighter place! I drank a refreshing Corona. I wisped away to the blackjack table to play a few hands. I found Drew Carey and got his autograph (although I asked for his phone number). Yes, the world was a much brighter place now that I had sold my soul for a cheap celebrity thrill! After a prolonged frolicking, I met up with the BIG BIG BOSS and a few of the employees, and we proceeded to the Star Trek warf bar.
The BIG BIG BOSS got us tickets to the 'Borg Invasion in 4D'! Our group was sent to the edge of known space, the Delta 5 (ooooo....aaahh), but our ship was suddenly bombarded by a giant robotic cube! We were sucked into the mother ship and the soulless Borgs began to infilatrate our space craft. Instructed to put on our safety visors, we sat ourselves in the escape pod (which oddly enough looked like a big movie theatre). We were all taken hostage by the Borgs, fed a series of subliminal messages, and were told that resistance was futile. We were THIS CLOSE to being tranformed into the likes of a soulless, brainless borg, when all of a sudden!... DUN DA DA DUN!!!... the good guys came in and saved the muther fuckin day! We were congratulated for the bravery of payin 30 dollars a ticket to sit on our asses in a movie theatre for 10 minutes and were set free again in the gift shop. Big Fat Hairy Deal.
We returned to the convention center and I duked it out a couple more hours until 5pm... the magic hour that I was waiting for! My fellow employees were all going to the IGT buffet extravaganza and then to a spectacular showcase of Las Vegas's very own ZUMANITY: An Exploration of Desire. But I had a different agenda. I had forfeited the company outings to play a house show in Las Vegas! I walked to the crossroads of Paradise Road and Convention Center Drive to accept my fate. I CHOOSE PARADISE!
Jesse was to pick me up there at the corner and I wore blue boxer shorts on my head so that he could single me out of the crowd. I'M SUCH A JOKE-STER! HAHAHAHAHA!!! He waved me down, I hopped thru heavy traffic, climbed into his forest green Jetta, and we were off!
Pullin round the bend like a jack knife sickle! Pumpin up the dust like a black gold geyser! Peelin up the pavement like a dog gone crazy! Jumpin the gun like a Niagra suicide! My spirits were high and the commotion had settled. I felt like I had been saved! The persisting head ache had ceased, and I was looking forward to the night... whatever the circumstances.
Yes, I know. While my fellow coworkers were tentalizing their palette with jumbo shrimp, lobster tail, and fancy shmancy mixed drinks with the likes of the bourgeoisie, I was eating a steak burrito and drinkng Natty Ice with the local yokels. While my fellow coworkers were watching a 200 dollars a seat blockbuster performance of nude acrobatics, I was playin a raggety acoustic guitar to about a dozen people. BUT I WOULDN'T HAVE HAD IT ANY OTHER WAY.
They were kind and generous strangers, and I got to see their rock band groove in full throttle as well! At the end of the night I was even graced with mushrooms and marijuana for my time back in the strip. I was to embark on the full Las Vegas experience! They dropped me off a bit of a ways from the hotel near the fake Eiffel Tower and my epic journey began.
The congestion of buildings huddled tall around me in a self proclaimed mockery of all that is classic architecture ...very elaborate and exotic, but at the same time, plastic, fake, and neon. The mushrooms were kicking in and I had to thwart off the idea that this whole life I had built was crumbling in on top of me. Because it simply wasn't true. I walked with a rhythmic step. I was a man on a mission through all of the chaos that pointed directly at me. People hangin out of their cars yellin "Fuck You!" People passing out cards and magazines with naked women smothered all over them. People calling me names like Bon Jovi and Screeech (must be my head of hair)... Yes, people ARE strange. ...and obnoxious! I tried to remind myself that people who appear as trolls DO NOT ALWAYS look like trolls. That is just their current disposition. Still, once again, judgement kicked in, and every person I saw I assumed into an unflattering category. So many superficial shells of human beings wandering aimlessly with no path.
Well I knew what my path was! ...straight to the hotel room, the calm in the eyesore, to escape into my lonely prison like I so often do on hallucinagens. Everything towered around me but I couldn't appreciate it. I kept my head down and I tried to pretend that I was not high, that I could simply go about my business like any other sober individual. I was denying my supernatural state.
But then, over the loudspeakers, the song of all songs (at least in context of my delusional mind at that moment) struck into verse! House of the Rising Sun rang out in its solemn, humble truth. Like a wise man, it spoke to me and fed into my synapses the essense of a strange, mystical world that lies beyond all technology, beyond all sitcoms, beyond all business trips, beyond all rush hour traffic, beyond all fast food chains... This was the real deal, dude! "There is miracle, magic, and mystery in a constant state of flux swirling in abundance around you. But you must be willing to look at it. You cannot go through life ignoring life. You keep your head down in fear, and in doing so, fear conquers you. If you do not keep your head up, how will you see also see the beauty?" ...the song showed me.
I had to be brave! I propped my head up and faced the music. And I kept my straight face even in the moments of swooping darkness. And in a instant in which I thought I was about to become psychotically screwed, I saw the enchanted kingdom rise in the distance. The Excalibur Casino! An illustrious castle with orange, blue, yellow, and brown towers. I stopped and soaked in it's majesty. And I was almost convinced that I had overcome my fear. But in all honesty, paranoia was poking at me, with the biggest fear of seeing all of my bosses and fellow coworkers seeing me! And saying sumthin like,"HEY JOHN, we're all going to the strip club! C'mon!" and then getting sucked into one of the most horrific experiences of my life... Watching haggerty old strippers with my clowning coworkers on hallucinagens! NO THANKS! So I made a run for it!
Darting into the casino, the world suddenly switched gears. I could hear the hum of the sirens calling me, but I did not listen. I could see the sparkle of false beauty glazed over every inch of the casino, but I remained focused. My throat could feel the excess moisture in the air like lust hanging heavy all over me. The jungle of the atmosphere offered no clarity, no time, no agenda, but to fall prey to it. I wondered aimlessly thru the labrynth of machines while all the faces in my periphrial watched me. But then..... Land Ho! There was MY elevator in the distance, but HOLY CRAP, Bill, our company programmer, was guarding the entrance!
As I approached him I saw another version of himself walking away out of his body (or it coulda been someone that kind of looked like him) and then him himself standin there acting like he didn't see me. I had no other choice but to meet him face to face. And so I did without thinking. He couldn't look me in the eyes. My feeble attempt to make small talk was not working.
"So...you doin some gamblin," I said... He trailed off on some random word structure that made absolutely no sense.
"Well, I'm goin to bed," I said. "Later."
AND I HAD CONQUERED THE BEAST! Nevermind that my eyes were blood red, nevermind tommorrow's repurcussions, I was home free! I sailed up the elevator, and after much trial and tribulation trying to figure out how to open a door, I finally broke on through to the other side, out of the insanity, and into the safe confines of my hotel room... where I spent the rest of the night wandering the corridors of of my mind, in a state of absolute, unadulterated GENIUS.
KNOCK! KNOCK! Who's there? Room service! Room service who? ..JESUS CHRIST, I OVERSLEPT! I packed up everything and ran straight for the front door of the hotel, but alas!... the company caravan had already left me behind for the convention hall!
I suddenly scrambled thru fantasies of all of the horrible persecution that my BIG BIG BOSS would bestow upon me for such dishonor... chewing me out, firing me, and revoking my plane ticket back home. Could that happen! If it did, that would be a hell of a way to go! Either way, I had to deal with this. I calmed myself down and decided to take my time and walk the entire way to the convention center.
The sunlight shone bright on all of the freaks, and I could see them sneaking peaks at each other behind their backs, whispering judgements beneath their breath, and wandering aimlessly through their superficial agenda. But who am I to judge? I made it to the convention center safe and sound with time to spare. I apologized to the BIG BIG BOSS for my tardiness and he said that everything was cool (I suppose I underestimated his patience). The remainder of my time at the slot convention was spent downstairs at the free wine tasting booth, buzzing till I eased the head ache. And just before Pamela Anderson was to be recognized for her work as an outstanding human being by BALLY's Total Fitness Inc., our company made way for its departure from Sin City back to Chicago.
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas!" Thank Goodness! Sometimes I wonder if the soulless Borg Invasion didn't already happen. If only our perceptions were skewed into 4D, perhaps we could finally see who the REAL people really are.
User Reviews
Submitted by lessthanfour (user info) at 2004-12-09 10:36:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for having a character named BIG BIG BOSS
Submitted by briancte (user info) at 2004-12-03 17:45:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
that's great
Submitted by skweetis (user info) at 2004-12-03 17:17:25 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I think the saddest part about your works is they are fucking true.
Submitted by screamfeeder (user info) at 2004-11-17 20:43:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Comment
Submitted by electrictoothsyndrome (user info) at 2004-11-17 15:58:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
As always....fucking superb. It's only a matter of time before these bitches recognize.
Submitted by Rabies (user info) at 2004-11-17 15:05:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it - the drug induced excursion brought to mind the book "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" by Hunter Thompson a little bit - keep it up!
Submitted by Drone_of_Industry (user info) at 2004-11-17 14:08:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
oh but wait till you see my next piece. It's about farts and stinky pussy! You'll love it!
Submitted by Sassmasterr (user info) at 2004-11-17 14:07:53 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
+1 for the effort.
-2 for the length
bigger isn't always better. especially in penis sizes. because i have a small penis and that's what i say to make myself feel better.
Submitted by BillsSBChamps (user info) at 2004-11-17 13:58:52 EST (#)
Ranking: -2
Getting through this was like fucking a fat chick. Even if you do get to the end it isn't worth it.