If it involves exploding sheep, it can't be bad

So for the first time in the past several visits [queue ominous music], I actually (gasp!) lost money in Atlantic City.

Growl.

And my favorite game, Gettin' Lucky, was being used by one old fogey after another all night long.

Snarl.

Each time I looked over, a different Geri-curled biddy would be sitting at the machine, scowling her wrinkly face at my favorite computer-animated leprechaun as she donated a share of her Social Security check to the “Keep The Don a Billionaire” fund.

It’s not right, I thought to myself as I stared at them with contempt,they don’t love him like I love him!

The leprechaun, I mean; not the Don.

(The leprechaun’s hair, by the way, looks much more natural. But I digress …)

I know better than to get in line behind these ladi … er, women. Some come and go, but the one for which you wait is the one who is planning to sit in front of that machine until either her wallet or her heart fails her. Medicine's getting better nowadays, and since kids and grandkids ain't what they used to be, these women don't seem to care about their leaving anything for their heirs. They're there to spend every penny they can while they can. Asking them when they’ll be done is the quickest way to get a handbag to the crotch. How much crap do they keep in those things?!?

They can just kiss me clovers, I mumbled under my breath as I headed off to find another machine.

But the night wasn't without it's high points. I had a pretty good run on LobsterFest, a lobster-themed slot machine with some fun catch-phrases of its own. When you get to the bonus round, a guy on a boat directs you to pick traps, which are filled with a predetermined amount of lobsters of various point-values. Each lobster is big or small, depending on its point value, and for every point you get you original wager back. As he’s pulling them from the traps, he makes comments in his thick New England accent, such as “ah, this one’s a keepah!” My favorite was, “I’m going to introduce you to some buttah.”

He says nothing when he pulls out the largest lobster (250 points). It growls at him menacingly and he hurriedly tosses it into the hold.

I also did well (by which I mean I took a long time to go through my pre-determined amount of losable money) on a railroad-themed slot at the Wild West. It was one of three machines from which I could have recouped all of my losses for the evening if only I had stopped at my high point. Ms N gave me sound advice on the way home. After a notably good spin, hit the “Cash Out” button.

Behold the power of will.

Unfortunately, the game I found the most amusing was not the game at which I fared the best. I forget the name, but the general theme was unlucky sheep with explosives and it definitely brought back fond memories of Saturday mornings when I’d lie on the floor with my cereal bowl in front of me watching Wile E. Coyote’s vain-yet-unceasing attempts to capture Bugs or the Road Runner or any of Sam’s sheep. Each time you hit three or more in a row, the cartoon sheep would light a match in a roomful of dynamite or try in vain to outrun a bomb or get turned into instant mutton some other way. In a tribute to Stanly Kubrick’s best film, one sheep even rides a bomb Slim Pickens style, waving his hat in the air as he drops from the plane. My chuckles just kept getting heartier as more sheep got blown to bits in new ways.

Ah, yeah. Anytime you can combine gambling with animal cruelty, that’s just good, clean fun!