By Prospero Dae
“B24,” enunciated the sparkle-toothed orator dressed in a pea-green jacket, his hand-wavy gestures ensorcelling a small crowd of idle-minded participants.
“Bingo!” trumpeted a voice from the hall.
And from this inauspicious start in a church basement, a life of cards and off-track betting began.
I’ll cut to the chase: the vice squad raided a bordello—the nadir of this sordid tale—and arrested a green-jacketed man, caught in flagrante delicto with a contortive catwoman and a tidy wad of cash.
“B24,” enunciated the prison warden: our gambler was in Block B–Cell 24, counting cigarettes and placing bets for idle-minded participants.
A morality tale in a candy wrapper. Well done!
Ah the journeys that begin in church basements! Yet it’s good to have not just a career, but an actual vocation, so that you can find satisfying work wherever you happen to go.
A very deft weaving of numerology and fate!
Gritty, humorous, ironic. You’ve put it all in there, Prospero…and outdone yourself this time. Great going!
Ha! One of my favorite 101 Words writers. I always look forward to the Prospero Dae stories.
Liked this one a lot.
I love this one! I always relate Bingo to sordidness too. I was driving back from the desert once year ago and stopped at a crumbling gambling casino in one of those rundown desert towns to use the bathroom. I had to pass through the Bingo room to get to the lavatory. It was like passing through one of the rings of hell, a smoke-filled room full of crypt keepers. Bingo scares me.