Randal Telk and the 396 Steps to Sexual Bliss (16 page)

* * * * *

Randal
‘
Mississippi
’
Telk, professional gambler extraordinaire, strutted into the casino with his buddy, world
-
famous science
-
fiction writer
,
Walter Knight.
Randal brought Walter for good luck.
The man always seemed to know what to expect next, like tomorrow was a chapter in one of his books.

“
Check the horses,
”
suggested Walter, motioning to the big board.
“
Luck is in the air.
”

Sure enough, it was as if luck jumped out and shook Randal by the collar.
Yolanda, a three year old filly, was running on a mud track at ten to one.
The race was about to start.
Randal pushed his way to the betting cage and scanned his card for ten thousand dollars on Yolanda to win.
Moments later, Yolanda won by a nose!

Randal and Walter celebrated by prospecting about the table games.
Randal carefully paced
three-hundred-ninety-six
steps around the tables, coming to a stop in front of a blackjack table.
A pretty dealer invited Randal to try his luck.
Randal fidgeted with a rabbit
’
s foot key chain in his pocket as he glanced at the dealer
’
s name tag
.
Yolanda.

“
Go all in,
”
suggested Walter.
“
She
’
s hot.
”

Randal tossed his card on the table to play.
“
You heard him.
I
’
m all in for one hundred thousand dollars.
”

The casino went quiet as a crowd gathered.
Yolanda dealt herself an ace up.
“
Insurance?
”
she asked.

“
I don
’
t have enough,
”
sighed Randal, praying to the casino
g
ods.

Yolanda slid her cards over the table scanner.
It flashed green, indicating she did not have a face card underneath.
Randal picked up his cards.
Blackjack!
He slammed the cards down like they were on fire.
The crowd cheered, patting Randal on the back, touching him for luck.
His courage bolstered, Randal asked Yolanda for a date.

“
No.
”

Being a good wingman, Walter asked Yolanda for a date, too.

“
No, not now, not ever, never!
”

“
I
’
m Walter Knight, the world
-
famous science
-
fiction writer,
”
boasted Walter, enriching the pot, going all in.

“
Never heard of you,
”
replied Yolanda, weakening under Walter
’
s onslaught of charm.
“
What did you write?
”

“
America
’
s Galactic Foreign Legion.
”

“
That was
you
?
”
gushed Yolanda, all smiles.
“
I saw the movie three times.
I am madly in love with Colonel Czerinski!
”

“
So
,
you want to go out?
”

“
Yes, but not with you.
Czerinski is hot, you are not.
”

“
I
’
m betting it all,
”
announced Randal impatiently.
“
Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.
”

“
Don
’
t do it!
”
warned Walter.
“
She shot us down.
She
’
s unlucky.
”

“
I
’
m going for the gusto!
”
insisted Randal, clutching his rabbit
’
s foot.

“
That rabbit
’
s foot wasn
’
t lucky for the rabbit.
You can
’
t be serious.
Quit while you
’
re ahead!
”

“
I
’
m all in,
”
repeated Randal.
“
I
’
m not worried.
It
’
s just money.
”

* * * * *

When the column entered Hell, an IED rocked the lead armored car.
Spiders fired rockets and machine guns from surrounding roof tops as the armored cars circled into a defensive stance.
It was like Custer
’
s Last
S
tand, except I called for air support.
Helicopter gunships flattened the whole town, killing
al
most everyone.
What a mess.
Oh well, circle of life.

After the battle, Private Telk
staggered to a demolished building and sank down in the rubble. I shook my head, thinking he ought to be on medical leave. His psychosis seemed to be getting worse, putting him in an almost constant state of imagined reality...

* * * * *

Private Telk’s family lore said he was one-sixty-fo
u
rth Lakota, and he was proud of it. He dre
amed of military glory on the frontier of the American West and Great Plains.
..

* * * * *

Randal Shitting Bull Telk was born of proud Lakota Indian and lost Romanian gypsy parents.
Shitting Bull was raised Lakota because mom got custody after being pimp
-
slapped one too many times.
Da bitch took Daddy Telk for child support and everything he had.
Dad never visited, and stiffed her for the child support.

Shitting Bull
’
s childhood was tough, a traditional Lakota upbringing of the Great Plains.
The tribe followed the great buffalo herds, sorting through chips left behind, picking out magic mushrooms from the steaming piles.
The mushrooms brought good prices from Canadian tourists
–
aye
!
However, the proud Lakota soon fell on hard times as the buffalo herds dwindled, decimated by mange and highway road
-
kill accidents.
Shitting Bull
’
s Happy River Tribe was forced to drink Outlaw Beer to get high, settling on a reservation to be closer to the tavern.
Many braves were forced to quit their day job selling magic mushrooms, and were forced to accept welfare.
Happy River Lakota were so poor
,
they didn
’
t even have a casino.
By treaty
,
the white man promised a casino, but as usual, white man speak with forked tongue.

Shitting Bull was branded a hated half-breed by both Lakota and whites.
Bitterly, he felt loyalty to neither.
When mom ran off to Vegas to deal blackjack, Shitting Bull was left to fend for himself.
As a teen
,
he fell in with a rough crowd, panhandling spare change from passing wagon trains and Mormons.
One night, drunk on Outlaw Beer, Shitting Bull got busted for joy
-
riding in one of those fancy wooden wagons.
Judge Roy Bean gave Shitting Bull the same choice many youth of that era got
– hang
by the rope, or join the
a
rmy.

Shitting Bull got lucky.
There was an opening for Indian scout in Colonel George Armstrong Custer
’
s
Seventh
Cavalry.
It was a cool unit.
They even had their own rock band.
Shitting Bull got to play guitar and drums.
Colonel Custer insisted the band play an Irish tune,
‘
Garryowen,
’
over and over.
It was the regimental theme song.
That got old real fast, but it was better than duty shoveling shit from the stables.
Peace time in the
Seventh
Cav wasn
’
t so bad.
Shitting Bull even thought about reenlisting.

Then came war.
Happy River wasn
’
t so happy anymore.
The Lakota elders got fucked up one night, after smoking some good shit in their bongs, and voted to leave the reservation in search of Canadian tourists further north.
Ultimately, the plan was to immigrate to the Great Frozen North of Canada and follow the great polar bear herds, to capitalize on the growing frozen magic mushroom market in Europe and the British Empire.
It turns out magic mushrooms go good with tea.

The
Seventh
Cav was mustered to force the Lakota back to the reservation.
By now
,
all the Great Plains tribes were in rebellion, planning to go over to the British, those limey bastards.
Shitting Bull was point scout.
After locating the main Indian force, he rode hard to report their position to Colonel Custer.

“
Sir, the Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Happy River Lakota have united.
They are led by Crazy Horse and my cousin Sitting Bull.
They
’
re just over the border, under that big Montana sky.
”

“
How many?
”
asked Colonel Custer, checking his GPS map.
“
I
’
ve never been to Montana.
We
’
ll stay on Interstate 90 so we don
’
t get lost.
”

“
Sir, there must be a hundred thousand Indians at their camp.
Even the Muckleshoot showed up.
Those bastards have their own casino at the edge of camp.
”

“
Here
’
s the plan,
”
advised Custer, turning to his XO, Major Marcus Reno.
“
We
’
re going to split our forces.
You are going to charge into the main Indian encampment, keeping them pinned down, while I raid the casino.
Speed and surprise will work in our favor.
We
’
ll leave the wagons and Gattlings here.
”

“
Are you out of your fucking mind?
”
asked Major Reno.
“
How am I going to pin down one hundred thousand savages with no air support?
I won
’
t do it!
”

“
You
’
re such a pussy,
”
berated Colonel Custer.
“
Fine!
If it will make you happy, I
’
ll do it myself.
I
’
ll charge the main hostile force, while you assault the casino.
I knew all along you wanted your grubby paws on all those casino chips.
”

“
That
’
s not true
,
sir,
”
protested Major Reno, already dreaming of naming a casino resort town in Nevada after himself.

“
Remember, timing is everything,
”
cautioned Colonel Custer.
“
After you hit the casino, you will advance to strike the rear of the Indian camp.
We
’
ll have them in a classic pincer.
They
’
ll panic, leaving us the field.
”

“
Where do you want me?
”
asked Shitting Bull, uneasily.