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Gaming Guru
A Christmas Carol23 December 2001
`Twas the night before Christmas, and through each casino In Vegas and Laughlin and Tahoe and Reno The stockings were hung by the lockers with cheer In hopes that a genuine saint would appear Someone with a heart filled with kindness and such Who would tip all the dealers; it wouldn't take much They stood at their tables, with heads almost bowed But no saints appeared, just the usual crowd Why is it, they pondered, that things never change The players at Christmas seem almost deranged It's though their own families have cast them aside So they come to Nevada to spend their Yuletide Alas, that is all that they usually spend And they wonder why no one regards them as friend For example, all tables were open this night One player at each, and if that's not a fright Their banter was corny and irksome and lame "Are you bored? Give me change, and I'll start up your game." So each person waited, his thoughts far away For the long night to end and another new day "Jingle Bells" played on the overhead speaker While the stale smell of smoke made each dealer's knees weaker There were trees in the corners all covered with light That from a great distance looked just about right On closer inspection they lost their appeal The branches were metal; wasn't anything real? The pit boss was dressed in a bright yellow coat Blue trousers, white socks and orange tie at his throat He smiled as he said, "Good times are upon us." Of course, he had gotten a nice Christmas bonus The others were grumbling, and most with good reason They would get no days off through the holiday season But still there was something to make them feel perky A gift for each worker: a big frozen turkey Just then there arose on the roof such a clatter Guards sprang up the stairs to uncover the matter A call was relayed to security's chief "You better get up here; we've caught us a thief." The chief dropped his coffee, proceeding with dread No visions of sugar plums danced in his head He got to the roof and threw open the doors His guards had their guns drawn, and down on all fours Was a fellow in red with a smile on his face And fluffy white whiskers clear down to his waist A bag full of presents lay next to his side While eight snorting reindeer stood venting their pride They were all strapped together and hooked to a sleigh That couldn't have been more than two feet away "On your feet," cried the chief to the jolly old gnome "And just why are you parked in a no-parking zone?" The man touched his cheek with a red-mittened hand "I am Nicholas," he said, "and I come from a land Where Christmas is special and truly unique And those who believe find the things that they seek." The chief fell to silence and took a step back Saint Nick gave a grin as he opened his sack "Now there's something for each," he said with a roar "And more for the people who work on the floor "The dealers, bartenders, pit clerks and cashiers "The valet attendants, the maids and their peers "In fact, gifts for all except for this note "That goes to the man in the bright yellow coat." With that, Saint Nick hopped in his very old sleigh Preparing to go on his merry old way The chief scratched his head as he started to see People opening presents and shouting with glee And then he remembered the note for the fellow Who was wearing blue pants and a coat of bright yellow The pit boss approached him and said with a smirk "Quit your loafing, you moron, and get back to work." The chief's eyes went wide and he started to stutter He looked at the pit boss, his heart all aflutter The pit boss was dressed in a bright yellow coat So the chief swallowed hard and gave him the note "This letter's for you," he said nice and slow Then he raced to his desk for a shot of Old Crow The pit boss unfolded the small slip of paper Was there money inside, or some magic vapor? All the others had got what they wanted and more It was his turn to go through the mystical door With trembling fingers he opened the note And that's when he started to moan and to choke For here's what it said, and the words were quite clear "I'm sorry, but you get no presents this year." Beneath that was written the rest of the letter "Be nice to your workers; next year might be better." Then a shout from above him as St. Nick took flight "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night." This article is provided by the Frank Scoblete Network. Melissa A. Kaplan is the network's managing editor. If you would like to use this article on your website, please contact Casino City Press, the exclusive web syndication outlet for the Frank Scoblete Network. To contact Frank, please e-mail him at fscobe@optonline.net. Recent Articles
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