Doomtown

I deal Black Jack. I deal 3 Card Poker. I will soon be dealing Minibac if I get through the three day class without pulling my hair out. I don't deal craps because I suck at math(I can count up to 21 on a good day) and because there is nothing deadlier than a Karma Girl with a long wooden stick in her hand surrounded by bitching customers. When I think of me dealing craps, I imagine myself in a black leather body suit, six inch fuck me boots, and fish net stockings. I imagine myself beating my customers black and blue, screaming, "TIP THE FUCKING DEALER YOU USELESS WORMS!" while men hand me their purple($500 chips) begging for more. Looking back, perhaps I should have taken that craps class after all. A customer came in the other day and got down on his knees begging me for a Black Jack. No, seriously. On his knees. With his embarrassed girlfriend standing right behind him rolling her eyes, probably wishing the casino would 86 him permanently. I would deal him one good ...

I am slowly being driven insane. The other night, the Hummer sat at one of my tables. I'm a black jack dealer, in case you haven't read my profile. I've been dealing the swing shift for two years now. You meet the most interesting customers on swing shift. There's a woman who comes in that we have dubbed "the troll" due to her short stature and the fact that she's ugly to everyone, customers or dealers alike. There's a guy we call "the black Don Juan", because he's African American(duh) and every time he comes in he offers sexual favors to one of our floor supervisors-much to her chagrin. And, of course, there is the man I like to call "the hummer" who looks like what Hitler's older autistic brother would have looked like if Hitler had an older autistic brother. Greasy hair, a funny mustache, and a blank expression. The thing that really irritates me about this guy is that he sits at a table, taps his knee vigorously shakin...