Post by Sin City Saint on Jul 19, 2005 11:02:13 GMT -5
The sounds of numerous slot machines being dumped incestiously with quarters by stupid tourists over and over rings throughout the casino. You can see hundreds of them just mindlessly slipping quarter, after quarter in. They hope and they pray that this will be the lucky turn. That BAR, BAR, BAR will finally hit. And yet in such a simple tool, the house's vig is stronger than any other game. No game is more favored for the house than the slots, that is if you can even call them a game. This horrendous sounds rings so loudly, as they are the gateway to the teller windows. The windows used to cash out your chips. The Sin City Saint, dressed in his normal tshirt and jeans, steps up next in line. He accompanied to the window by a casion escort, who verifies his winnings. He take two steps towards the teller, placing his racked chips on the counter. He slides them under the glass window, as she begins to count.
[Teller] $2800. Will there be anything else for you, sir?
The Sin City Saint scratches the side of his face and you can heard the ridges of his scruff meet his fingernails. He pauses for a moment before speaking.
[Sin City Saint] Nah. I think thats gonna be all. I'll take that in cash.
The teller reaches into her cash drawer and begins counting the money out aloud to The Sin City Saint. Saint's head bobs up down with the drop of each hundred. When she finishes. She reaches underneath the counter for an envelope, but The Sin City Saint has already snatched his cash and with his back turned, walking away from the counter
[Sin City Saint] Patience. Not really something I possess. Yet, really not a virtue either. What is the purpose of it? None of us really enjoy being patient. Standing in a fast food line, waiting OUR turn? Why should I be patient? What does my virtue win? A joke really. Patience is over rated. And speaking of over rated, Pj Money. Pj, you know a lot about being over rated. Don't ya?
The Sin City Saint is counting his cash in his hands, silently.
[Sin City Saint] I saw last night how you have amassed such a stunning collection of championship belts. Must be proud of those belts. What are the straps made of, FOAM?! Bet you have a nice collection of receipts from the local toy store as well. You sit there, acting so damn smug drinking your $2 wine, trying to show the world how you are better than me! You make me sick. Your ideaology is the same as The Assassin and Eric Hardcastle. Yet, you are just the cheap imitation of greatness. I can associate with you on that aspect. The difference is that I acknowledge who I am. I am proud of who I am. Don't deny it Pj.
The Sin City Saint folds his money into a wad and reaches into his pocket. He pulls a rubber band and wraps it around the wad, shoving the wad into his pocket.
[Sin City Saint] Notice how easy money folds. Sure it looks like a thick stack. And it even feels like one at that. But at the end of the day, money is just cheap paper. It bends and folds like any other paper. It has no real strength to fight back when it encounters man. Sure in a baby's hand, Money looks tough. It reacts differently. As in the case of this past Sunday. The baby does not have the power or the mindset to be able to fold a dollar bill. Yet, when that child begins to grow and stands as a man, the bill becomes dominated. Pj Money you started with a baby. This Sunday, you encounter a man. This Sunday, you like all the money in my pocket, will fold like a cheap suited connector. You should know better than to try and play those shitty cards against me.
The Sin City Saint finds the elevator in sight. A few people standing there waiting to get aboard. The doors open and the few folks standing there begin to get on. The Sin City Saint begins to pickup the pace, as he does not want to miss the elevator. The doors begin to close, as Saint is just within a few yeards. The older passenger in the front of the pack smiles at The Sin City Saint, as the doors close shut and the elevator begins to move up. Saint pushes the button furiously
[Sin City Saint] Son of a bitch! Stuck here waiting. Waiting for another elevator. Patience is truly something I do not possess. Pj, something else we have in common. I am waiting for the elevator and you will be waiting to have your ass handed to you this Sunday. For the richest prize awaits the winner of this tournament. The World Heavyweight Championship. And that championship, made of leather and gold plates, will belong to The Sin City Saint. Hell hath no fury like the The Sin City Saint! Saint's honor.
The sound of a bell is heard, as the elevator doors open and the Sin City Saint steps onto the elevator. He presses for his floor, as an older lady with a cane in hand, presses the up button. The elevator pauses and waits for the next passenger. The old lady hobbles over to the ash tray and trash can next to the elevator. She reaches into her pocket and begins to throw away several candy wrappers. Saint is becoming irritated, as he is waiting for the old lady to get on the elevator. She finishes and begins to hobble back, only to turn back around with one last candy wrapper. The Sin City Saint steps off the elevator, snatching the old lady's cane. He tosses the cane across the floor and walks back onto the elevator. The old lady slumps to the floor.
[Sin City Saint] Patience my dear. You'll have to catch the next one.
The Sin City Saint presses his floor number again and the doors close shut. The elevator music begins to play, as security comes to assist the old lady who has fallen and can't get up. A wicked laugh is heard echoing from the elevator.
[Teller] $2800. Will there be anything else for you, sir?
The Sin City Saint scratches the side of his face and you can heard the ridges of his scruff meet his fingernails. He pauses for a moment before speaking.
[Sin City Saint] Nah. I think thats gonna be all. I'll take that in cash.
The teller reaches into her cash drawer and begins counting the money out aloud to The Sin City Saint. Saint's head bobs up down with the drop of each hundred. When she finishes. She reaches underneath the counter for an envelope, but The Sin City Saint has already snatched his cash and with his back turned, walking away from the counter
[Sin City Saint] Patience. Not really something I possess. Yet, really not a virtue either. What is the purpose of it? None of us really enjoy being patient. Standing in a fast food line, waiting OUR turn? Why should I be patient? What does my virtue win? A joke really. Patience is over rated. And speaking of over rated, Pj Money. Pj, you know a lot about being over rated. Don't ya?
The Sin City Saint is counting his cash in his hands, silently.
[Sin City Saint] I saw last night how you have amassed such a stunning collection of championship belts. Must be proud of those belts. What are the straps made of, FOAM?! Bet you have a nice collection of receipts from the local toy store as well. You sit there, acting so damn smug drinking your $2 wine, trying to show the world how you are better than me! You make me sick. Your ideaology is the same as The Assassin and Eric Hardcastle. Yet, you are just the cheap imitation of greatness. I can associate with you on that aspect. The difference is that I acknowledge who I am. I am proud of who I am. Don't deny it Pj.
The Sin City Saint folds his money into a wad and reaches into his pocket. He pulls a rubber band and wraps it around the wad, shoving the wad into his pocket.
[Sin City Saint] Notice how easy money folds. Sure it looks like a thick stack. And it even feels like one at that. But at the end of the day, money is just cheap paper. It bends and folds like any other paper. It has no real strength to fight back when it encounters man. Sure in a baby's hand, Money looks tough. It reacts differently. As in the case of this past Sunday. The baby does not have the power or the mindset to be able to fold a dollar bill. Yet, when that child begins to grow and stands as a man, the bill becomes dominated. Pj Money you started with a baby. This Sunday, you encounter a man. This Sunday, you like all the money in my pocket, will fold like a cheap suited connector. You should know better than to try and play those shitty cards against me.
The Sin City Saint finds the elevator in sight. A few people standing there waiting to get aboard. The doors open and the few folks standing there begin to get on. The Sin City Saint begins to pickup the pace, as he does not want to miss the elevator. The doors begin to close, as Saint is just within a few yeards. The older passenger in the front of the pack smiles at The Sin City Saint, as the doors close shut and the elevator begins to move up. Saint pushes the button furiously
[Sin City Saint] Son of a bitch! Stuck here waiting. Waiting for another elevator. Patience is truly something I do not possess. Pj, something else we have in common. I am waiting for the elevator and you will be waiting to have your ass handed to you this Sunday. For the richest prize awaits the winner of this tournament. The World Heavyweight Championship. And that championship, made of leather and gold plates, will belong to The Sin City Saint. Hell hath no fury like the The Sin City Saint! Saint's honor.
The sound of a bell is heard, as the elevator doors open and the Sin City Saint steps onto the elevator. He presses for his floor, as an older lady with a cane in hand, presses the up button. The elevator pauses and waits for the next passenger. The old lady hobbles over to the ash tray and trash can next to the elevator. She reaches into her pocket and begins to throw away several candy wrappers. Saint is becoming irritated, as he is waiting for the old lady to get on the elevator. She finishes and begins to hobble back, only to turn back around with one last candy wrapper. The Sin City Saint steps off the elevator, snatching the old lady's cane. He tosses the cane across the floor and walks back onto the elevator. The old lady slumps to the floor.
[Sin City Saint] Patience my dear. You'll have to catch the next one.
The Sin City Saint presses his floor number again and the doors close shut. The elevator music begins to play, as security comes to assist the old lady who has fallen and can't get up. A wicked laugh is heard echoing from the elevator.
