Shit this is getting boring...

So I'm sitting in a casino in Reno. And I'm losing my ass off. I thought for sure I'd find Lipton by now. First, I tried New Orleans. I thought it was the closest place where I might find him. Damn it all for America allowing too many casinos. There are riverboats. There are Indian reservations. Too many places where a good man can hide.

Reno is just a stopping spot, on my way to Vegas. That drunken bum has to be somewhere.

At first I loved my new gig. An unlimited supply of money. Hell, my first night in Nawleens I tried to see if I could lose more money gambling than my new friends had available as a re-supply. Nope. Three times I needed more, three times I just walked around looking lost, and some different dude came up surreptitiously and asked me if i needed more. Yup I replied, and each time I got a new stack. Nice.

But losing money, even if it is somebody Else's' money, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol, gets old. Believe it. Always in the back of my mind was "Where is the Big Guy?" We miss him. This blog ain't the same without him. His "wife" misses him, whoever he is. And besides, she's paying me a hefty sum on the side to find his sorry ass. She just mumbles something about "I get that sorry bass tard if me get chance!" Dunno what her beef is but she pays well.

I looked down at pocket aces. I grimaced and just cold called a 3x raise from the under the gun guy. He was not a local, probably just some Internet wannabe poker player. I had been sitting here for two hours just checking out the place, hoping HE might come in. The guy to my left re-raised, a pot sized raise. I did not get too excited. Too many tight players, all waiting to bust some tooorist. To my surprise the original raiser pushed all in. He only had a couple hundred, unfortunately. I gave a look as though my heartburn was acting up. I feigned mucking my cards, while surreptitiously glancing at the original raiser's direction. Reluctantly, I hoped I was acting, I just called.

Dude to my left re-raised all in. He had almost a grand. Now, I got an instant erection. "Call" I said, with no hint of gastronomical distress. I turned over my aces instantly, and heard his groan--I'd know the groan of pocket kings anywhere. The other guy stood up to leave. He didn't show, either. The flop was non-descript, no paint. Turn and river equally good for me, and my pocket rockets got paid off. I took all the chips, got up and went to the cashier, hoping my new friends had noticed my losses but not my wins, secretly wondering to myself..." Where is that asshole LTB? We miss him."

I cursed myself for not finding him, and vowed to redouble my efforts to find lard ass.

To be continued...

John Doe...