I'm locked in. Me and Cowboy Twink are at a table with a bunch of serious looking guys who probably eat casino chips for breakfast.
"H-Hey Cowboy Twink… You know the plan right?" I stutter like a little baby.
Cowboy Twink seems to be confident. "Heh. Leave it to me, bub."
You may be wondering, what's the plan? Heh, why it's quite simple. Time for a little main character inner monologue.
The first step: I accelerate Cowboy Twink's glory with my sweat and wait for him to finish spasming.
Step two: Cowboy Twink purposely loses every gamble until his guaranteed win ability is activated. While he's gambling, me and Mr. Narrator will strip for money.
Step three: We join the gambling table and inflate the prize pot with our earnings.
Step four: Cowboy Twink wins gazillion dollars and we split the prize money 50/50 since Mr. Narrator doesn't want a cut.
And that's all, baby. It's a simple process. Heh, rinse and repeat.
I give Cowboy Twink a wink and go off into the stripper section of the casino.
I see Mr. Narrator half-naked, wearing tight leggings.
"Woah, Mr. Narrator. Nice legs. You should model, bro."
Mr. Narrator blushes (he didn't), "Thank you, Bubba. I'm flattered. Let's get this operation started, shall we?"
"Okie dokie!"
***
*5 minutes later*
We arrive at the strip scene. It's massive.
There's a big stage where a bunch of male strippers are lined up with thirsty females gawking at them. Some of them are dancing on poles, others in quirky costumes, and the rest giving the ladies a lap dance.
There's a chunky little man that's wearing a fedora. He's like a biblically accurate Redditor.
I point at him. "Hey Mr. Narrator, I think the guy in the fedora is the boss. Imagine ordering around twinks all day. Man, I wish I had his job."
"Seems like it. It appears that we must introduce ourselves to him to get employed."
I smirk, "This is gonna be a piece of cake!"
As soon as we approach the man in the fedora, he looks at me with pure disgust.
I give him a death stare, but his stinky aura overpowers me.
"Shit, man. You smell like ass!" I groan.
The man wearing the fedora responds, "You too, asshat. You're fired!"
"What? I don't even work for you. At least not yet."
"Well, I pre-fire your ass! But the twink next to you is a delicate piece. He'll be a fine stripper."
The man wearing the fedora massages Mr. Narrator's broad shoulders.
"Yes indeed," the man wearing the fedora mutters to himself, "Perfect hip width, a sharp jawline, and firm glutes. Everything is exceptional. I'm sure that you'll become a star in no time."
I frown. "Uhm sir, will you hire me?"
The man wearing the fedora begins wheezing.
"Of course not! You look like the fucking Michelin Man!"
Yeah no, I'm throwing hands with this guy.
Mr. Narrator comforts me, "It's okay, Bubba. I can handle this job alone. Try to find another way to earn money around here."
Mr. Narrator's voice is so damn soothing. It's almost better than Mommy ASMR.
I scoff. "Hmph! I guess I'll leave it to you Mr. Narrator."
The man wearing the fedora has a devious grin on his face, taunting me as he walks away with Mr. Narrator.
Well shit. What do I do now? It's pretty evident that I'm not cut out for stripping. And I can't gamble until Cowboy Twink's ability is completed.
Hmm… Think, Bubba, think.
By process of elimination, I can't strip or gamble which leaves one option. Taking drugs!
It was pretty easy finding some drugs. Actually, really easy. There was a convenient cup of lean right in front of me, just waiting to be consumed. There were also a few Jolly Ranchers so I felt extra inclined to take it. Maybe the Jolly Ranchers also have some good stuff in it.
Just as I reach for a watermelon-flavored Jolly rancher, I feel someone coming up behind me.
Oh shit, I should've known. This was definitely a trap designed to catch stupid idiots like me. Also, I'm in an awkward bent over position, so I hope this guy doesn't give me backshots.
I hear an ominous growl.
"Well, well, well. Look at this fatass, bending his cheeks over for some Dollar Tree lean. I guess you'll do."
I gulp. He has a giant baseball bat with nails in it. Yes, like that one guy from The Walking Dead.
I try to move, but my body is frozen in fear. He's like giving an overly creepy uncle. Plus, it doesn't help that he has a sexy beard.
"S-sorry sir, I didn't know that the lean was yours."
Before I can react, he freaking nails me in the back of my head with a punch and I'm instantly knocked down.
I'm on the floor, sprawled out like a mannequin. I'm staring at the ceiling and there's stars circling over me with Looney Tune sound effects. Dang, I'm on like 1 HP.
I can't focus. Everything is mixed into a soup of blurriness and meth. My body starts to relax as my mind fades into unconsciousness.
***
I wake up in an arena that's shaped like an octagon. There's an immense crowd that's surrounding the arena, all roaring and cheering with a strong radiance of energy.
Behind me, I feel the guy with the baseball bat grab onto the collar of my shirt.
He looks down at me like he's pitying a dying puppy.
"Look boy, this ain't personal, but we needed a replacement to fight today. The guy that you're replacing happened to have a dentist appointment today, and we didn't want to refund everyone their tickets."
Are we deadass?
"Hey! Let me go! I think you violated all of my rights!"
"Nuh uh, I didn't take your right for a speedy trial."
"Okay not those rights, but whatever. Why'd you pick me for this stupid fight? And why'd you have to punch the shit out of me?"
He scratches his beard like a monkey navigating a jungle.
"Well boy, you fell for the oldest trick in the book. Honestly, I didn't expect for someone to fall for the lean, but I guess idiots like you exist."
The crowd starts booing us out of impatience.
I try to release myself from his grip, but he won't budge.
"Alrighty, it's time. Try your best to not die."
He releases his monstrous grip and leaves the octagon. I'm alone in the center of it, with thousands of people sneering at me like I'm a zoo animal.
I hear a voice, slice through the crowd's hollers.
"In the blue corner…. We have a new challenger! The first timer from LA, Bubba Johnson!"
No one cheers, just a bit of scattered claps.
The announcer continues, "And in the red corner… the undefeated, reining champion of Wet Dreams… 'The Splattering'!"
The crowd goes freaking crazy as if Lebron just graced them. They begin chanting the words: "The Splattering has arrived"
Yeah, it's over. I should've just kept my job as an accountant.