You strut across the street, back to the Liberace’ museum like you just fucked the San Diego Chicken. You watch Foster take all of the blow out of a wax likeness of Liberace’ while you count all the money. You decide right then and there that you both need to head down to the strip in style. It only makes sense, you have all this cocaine, you pretty much have to take the Rolls Royce that is covered in mirrors… right?
So you head down to the Bellagio. You figure you play some high stakes black jack and get a nice room comped plus maybe some extras.
Sure enough, not only do you get a lovely free suite but you also double your money at the tables.
Later that evening you are waist deep in hookers and blowing fat rails off the the bald head of Mr. Warmth himself - Don Rickles. Life couldn’t get any better.
3 weeks later you slip in a puddle of horse urine at the Kentucky Derby and end up a vegetable. It was fun while it lasted.
The End
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