You are a broke college student. Actually, "broke" is an understatement. Your last meal was a packet of ketchup you found next to a trash bin. Not your proudest moment. But it sure did taste like ketchup, alright. Which is better than the ice soup you had for breakfast. In fact, you are so hungry, your stomach is gnawing on your other organs. Even now, it rumbles in protest to your neglect.

Maybe if you had a job, things would be better. But who has time with all the classes and assignments? Your parents only ever rarely send you money because "Back in their day, they did things themselves." Which, neither of your parents even went to college, so you aren't entirely sure what they are referring to. Your mother has been a housewife ever since she was married to your father. Your father is a mechanic. Despite the hefty income he amounts, he counts every single penny. Just your luck. But you are starving. You've been starving for a couple of days now. For dinner last night, you had a nap. Needless to say, times are hard. How are you supposed to focus on assignments when your stomach is trying to escape to go find food on its own?

You tried calling your parents. They haven't been answering. Surely, if they knew just how bad it had become, they would want to help you. If your mother knew you were eating from the trash, she would be floored. Well, let's not be so dramatic. You ate from next to the bin. You weren't yet desperate enough to go digging in there. Yet. But you are getting close. The only other option you think to have is to drive out to them. It is about a two hour drive. If you leave now, you could make it there before dinner time. Even if they don't give you money, that is at least one meal you could eat today. The temptation is definitely there. You don't have much gas. Enough to get you there, perhaps. But you would need to borrow some money to return. Maybe your mother would sneak you some. She was always the softer one you could work with. The question also being if they would be happy to see you or not. To show up without warning? But another growl from your stomach sends a nauseous wave through you, and you think you may throw up. You have to go.

You sluggishly climb into your old beat-up Honda civic. You are dreading the long drive, while at the same time, you can almost smell your mother's fresh home cooked meal. It is enough to break the chains of any doubts that were keeping you in place. You start up the engine. Or at least you try. It grinds and revs a bit. You try again. Putters. What else can you do but beg whatever god is above while you turn the key one more time. Finally, it takes off. "That's a good civic." You pet the steering wheel, "atta girl, Sheila, you can make it!" You start your journey.

A burning smell and the wind flow through your disheveled hair from your open window. You aren't even sure you brushed it today. What can you say? It has been a rough one. Maybe that would gain you some amount of sympathy points with your mother. Right now, you are desperate, and it shows. You have already been driving for an hour, and your stomach is not getting any quieter. You have been trying to call your mother as you make your way down a long and empty highway. Endless miles of nothing stretch out all around you. The only thing you keep seeing is signs counting down your approach toward a casino. In fact, you haven't even passed another car.

The drive feels even longer without a radio. Just last week, your civic was broken into. The reason you have the window down now is just to even out the pressure from your duct tape passenger window. Also, the wind keeps you awake for the most part. You can't take any risks of dozing off behind the wheel. You clearly don't have the best of luck. Speaking of luck, your car begins to putter even now. It jerks hard enough for you to rock in your seat. "No!" You hit the steering wheel. "Come on, come on!" The car very obviously begins to stall and slow down. You have no choice but to put on your hazards and come to a pitiful puttering stop on the side of the road.

"Dang it, Sheila!" You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. Okay, you definitely didn't brush it today. Glad that is one mystery solved. You grab your phone to call your parents again. But your luck comes into play once more. No signal. You clench your fists and throw a tiny tantrum in the moment. This can not be happening right now.

You glance up and down the road. You see another sign. The casino is in the distance. Less than a mile to walk. Just perfect. Not ideal, but maybe you will get a signal there. Or maybe they will have a phone you can use. Not that it matters since your parents aren't even picking up. What if it was an emergency? Like it actually really is. You groan with a half sob and get out of your car. As you slam the squeaking door closed, you notice the faint rising of smoke coming from under your hood. Since you are not your father, you know absolutely nothing about cars. Best to not even bother looking under the hood to pretend to search for anything. Time to hoof it to the casino.

Walking on an empty stomach just makes you grumpier. Stupid Sheila. Stupid road. Stupid phone. Stupid rock. Stupid casino. This entire idea was stupid. But you are neck deep into it now. Thankfully, this is all taking place in the middle of the day instead of at night. You have to laugh at yourself as you walk. It would be a casino. The one place where people with luck like yours should never step foot into.

You finally close the gap and realize two things. One - you are really out of shape. Like, badly out of shape. You are sweating profusely and breathing heavily. Two - you can see that there are no other cars in the parking lot. You start to wonder if they are even open. It isn't like you had a choice to walk here, but come on... if you walked all this way for nothing...

You see the flashing lights on the building are very much lit up. You hear the audible buzz of the sign as you approach the building. "Take a chance!" The vibrant sign advertises. Along with the huge sign indicating that the name of the casino seems to be "Lady Luck Casino." Pacing in the parking lot, You hold your phone over your head, trying to get some kind of signal. Thank God no one else is here, or you would look like a weirdo. With - again - no luck, you decide to enter into the building to see if they have a phone.

You approach the door to find that it is indeed unlocked. For once, things work out in your favor. You enter the brightly lit lobby. Even the carpets are vibrant, with all the variety of colors popping under the mass of lights above you. Oddly enough, you see plenty of people inside. The ringing and dinging of machines whirling as they take their turns on them. That is weird. You didn't expect anyone to be here.

You check your phone again. Just in case. But realize your luck ended at the unlocked door. No signal.

As you walk further into the space, the sound of chips clinking and dice rolling crescendos around you. At the center of the bustling casino is an enormous circular bar, its curved counter surrounded by plush leather stools. Bartenders in crisp white shirts and black vests expertly mix cocktails, their movements, a mesmerizing dance.

Off to the side, you spot the high-stakes tables - roulette, blackjack, and poker - where well-dressed patrons lean intently over the green felt, their faces a mask of concentration as they make their bets. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cigars and cologne, adding to the palpable aura of wealth and luxury.

Winding through the maze of gaming options are cocktail servers, elegantly dressed and carrying trays of colorful drinks. They gracefully navigate the crowds, offering refreshment to the players engrossed in their games.

Beyond the main gaming area, you catch a glimpse of a grand staircase leading up to a mezzanine level. The faint sounds of a live orchestra float down, hinting at even more opulent delights waiting to be discovered upstairs.

The energy in the casino is electric, a buzzing undercurrent of excitement and anticipation. It's easy to get swept up in the dazzling spectacle, your senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and possibility that fills the air.

"Hello, hello! And welcome!" A man boasts in a loud singsong tone from next to you. You never even heard or saw him approach you. You glance up now from your useless phone to see a man decked out in what could only be described as a ring master's attire from a circus. His red suit is lined in gold and absolutely too much glitter that seems to sprinkle off his jacket as he moves his arms. He wears a comically tall top hat and has a large handlebar mustache to top it all off. He spins a cane in his hands theatrically before leaning on it, "Care to take a share! Bold enough to dare!"

"I'm sorry?" You ask him, not entirely sure if this man is under the influence of some kind of substance.

"You look like you're ready for your big break, kid!" He throws his arms open before jumping closer to you and sliding his long arm around your shoulders. You recoil to his touch, but his white gloved hand only tightens on your shoulder, "What do ya say? Take a chance and play?"

"Oh, no." You quickly decline his advertisement and ease as gracefully as you can out from under his grasp. Though he was definitely a bit much, you had to admit, the guy must have loved his job. He was really into this. Like really really into this. "I'm not here to play. My car actually broke down about a mile back. I need a phone if you have one."

"Phone is only for customers!" He says with way too much enthusiasm in his voice. The other people inside are far too engrossed in their games to even acknowledge this wild man whirling about.

"Okay." You sigh, "I don't have any money..."

The man seemed thrilled to hear it, practically shouting, "Every new customer starts with ten free credits! Stay! Stay! Have a play!"

"I really don't have time for this." You try to reason with him. "I'm trying to get back home. I really need a phone to call my parents."

"Phone is only for customers!" He repeats in the same tone and does a spin on his toes. He stops, facing you again with his arms flung out. Glitter whirls around him and falls onto the floor. Your luck. Trying to reason with a man who could see no reason.

Ten free credits? You don't even have to pay out of pocket. It isn't like you are going anywhere. You're stuck. The only real choice you have is to play a game, use up your credits, and get to a phone. Or, on the other hand, you can just go back out to your car and wait for someone to pass by. Maybe they would be willing to give you a ride.

To begin your play - Select page 2

To return to your car - Select page 3