pious faithful of gamers. They placed their faith squarely in the hands
of grace and karma, certain that divine justice would ultimately
prevail and that they would ultimately inherit some small portion of
the earth.
Standing between a polyester cowboy and a Turkish tourist,
Bennie reached into his bag and retrieved two decorated chicken
bones. Clacking them together three times, he recited a line from the
Mayan holy book, thePopol Vuhand danced around in a circle.
Everyone stared at him and then turned back to the table. Weirdos
were a dime a dozen in Vegas and most were too busy gambling to
care. Bennie’s eyes rolled back into his head and he impulsively
threw down a $100 chip on fourteen.
The croupier spun the wheel. “Forty, black!” he cried.
“Oh shit. Forty. I didn’t hear good,” Bennie said. The cowboy and
the Turk pricked up their ears. “Okay Aunt Rosa. Try again.”
He performed the same ritual and this time heard seven.
“Twenty-two, red!” cried the croupier.
“Rosa! Pay attention!” Bennie said. The others were starting to
look doubtful.
“Try speaking in Spanish,” Colin suggested.
“She was a little senilanyway. Let me try someone else.” He
reached into the knapsack and took out a small monkey skull,
painted blue. Inserting three cocoa beans in its brain case, he
proceeded to shake it like a rattle. “Venga Carlos, tío mio. Ayudame!
Ayudame!” Bennie chanted loudly. Now people from all over the
casino were looking over at him.
“Excuse me sir,” the croupier started to say, but he was unsure
whether pagan rituals were prohibited or not.
“One!” Bennie said, throwing his money down. Some of the
players, desperate for a sign, jumped on the bandwagon and placed
their chips next to his. “Hi de ho, Geronimo!” the cowboy cheered.
The ball landed on one, red, and the players threw their hands up
in amazement.
“Les’ go Carlos!” the Turk exclaimed. Bennie shook the monkey-
skull rattle once more.
“Black” he shouted and instantly there was a massive pile of
chips on black. Sure enough, the ball acquiesced to the dark side.
Passers-by stopped to watch the commotion.
“Black isn’t a number,” Izzy said, but nobody was listening.
The table was now full of players, hanging on Bennie’s every
ABYSSINIA
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