Strange Aromas In Caesar's Palace
Written: Nov 18 '05
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Smells like yogurt
Cons: Smells like hemorrhoids
The Bottom Line: Our intrepid Bobo picks up the slimy trail left by Duende, after he slithered off to do unspeakable acts with kittens.
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| Fez_Monkey's Full Review: Caesars Palace |
Glenlivet. Distilled on the banks of the River Livet. Steak and eggs. Potatoes and Jam. Make money!
Man, does my head hurt! This should really be Saki's story. He's too shy to tell the world how he swooped in and came to our aid, how he rescued his "shiy bakatare" as I sometimes hear him call us. Ah, my loyal little Saki !
I didn't even get to see it. :=( Duende told me what happened after I was knocked out. Cold steel lay against the neck of my mate Duende. "Look at me!" said the thug. Duende turned slowly, baring his considerable fangs; but the Moro only laughed in his face. It was a slow laugh, but high pitched, and it echoed eerily in the parking structure. Then Duende smiled. It was an honest smile, and some forgotten instinct told the gunman so. He hesitated nervously. That's when he felt Saki's knife at his throat.
"Back away, slowly!" cooed Saki. The Moor did so, gently lowering his gun. Saki took away the piece, then handed it and his shiv to Duende. Crouching into fighting stance, Saki went to work. He threw the man over cars and bounced him off the walls and smacked him into cooling pipes until splitting him open in many places. It sounded like plywood breaking. I wish I had been awake. I'll bet he smelled like onions.
(later that day)
I don't know what time it was, but I was lying on a hotel bed. The room smelled like ass -- not like farts, and not like shit: like ass. Like ammonia and chicharones. Saki was watching a poker tourney on the television. Duende and Fez Monkey were standing by the one window and looking out. Eggs was nowhere in sight. "Bobo! Come over here," said Duende, "You've got to see this!"
I climbed out of bed uneasily. My head hurt in back. I reached behind my head. Something gooey and yellow came away. It smelled like mustard.
From the window we could see a swimming pool. Guests were in it and lounging around it. A pale midwesterner was lying on a beach chair, in the shade. Not in the water, and not sunning himself: in the shade. "It's easily 97 degrees out there," declared Fez Monkey. "More like 107," suggested Duende, "and Einstein's lying there like a beached whale. Stupid white people." Duende shoot his head sadly. In the shallow end of the pool was a huge, almost naked man entirely covered with fine red fur. "Look at that walrus!" observed Fez Monkey happily, "Koo koo ka choob." I sneered disdainfully at the bathers' immodesty, gigalos and hoors, the lot of them. "Now, now," said Fez Monkey, "mustn't be prejudiced, Peachy. Different countries, different customs."
"Shall we get some breakfast?" said Duende, so we took what we needed and left our room. The long hall started to smell like boiled cabbages, and Saki wrinkled his nose. When we got to the elevators, there was Eggs! He was wearing a thin, torn red bathrobe and was pacing back and forth in his socks -- he wasn't going anywhere, and he wasn't resting: he was pacing. In his hand were some crinkled yellow papers covered in tiny writing.
"Where have you guys been?!" said Eggs, "I've been waiting for two hours for you bums to wake up!"
"And they haven't called security?" wondered Duende.
"Those guys don't scare me," protested Eggs, "I'm a paying customer." Maybe so, but we sent Eggs back to the room to get cleaned up, anyway. We watched him go inside, too, just to be sure he didn't try to run away. Koo koo ka choob.
"Where are we going to eat?" asked Eggs anxiously when he came back out.
"How about Mickey D's?" offered Duende.
"No, no. They're not kosher," said Eggs.
"How about the hotel restaurant?" said Fez Monkey.
"Too crowded, too crowded," said Eggs quickly.
"Hawiian Barbecue!" suggested Saki, seeing a billboard for it.
"I need more starch," said Eggs. So in the end, we went to Denny's. Fez Monkey got coffee and a Spanish omlette. Duende had flapjacks and two shrimp cocktails, which he arranged into smiley faces. Saki took a small bowl of rice and a cup of green tea. Eggs ordered oatmeal, plain. It comes with cream, and raisins, and brown sugar; but he told the waitress she could "keep all that stuff." And I ate nothing but the breakfast burrito, two poached eggs, a power shake, hashed browns with jam, and a piece of cherry pie. Then we set out to tour the many casinos, just to see what is out there.
"Let's walk!" said Fez Monkey, "It isn't that warm out. No one objected, so we started walking. The hotels all look close. They aren't. And it was hot --- not warm, and not just toasty: but haaaahhhhht. Soon the sweat was lashing off of us -- all except Saki, who turned bright red. I could see the steam rising off Fez Monkey, and hear Eggs muttering to himself as we trudged along, while Duende quietly wept. I grew up in Barstow, so I'm used to the heat, and even this heavy heat did not trouble me. The world smelled like saurago and lazy tourists, and as we walked along I hummed the theme from "Star Wars, Episode 4." Black motes floated in the distance, appearing and disappearing for no apparent reason, as they often do when I go running in the desert on a good, hot day.
The streets were crowded with people. Here and there along the Strip, huge fans had been set up with little water jets in front of them. Each time we passed one, we stopped and sucked up cool. In front of brothels and dance halls, dirty looking lakeys were handing out coupons to see the hoors. I refused, but Saki took three of them; and Eggs pulled a tissue out of his pocked and carefully plucked a coupon into it, wrapping it up completely before sticking it in his pocket.
We slowly made our way towards Caesar's Palace. Fez Monkey refused to settle into any of what he called "the lesser casinos." We would enter them at one end, play slots long enough to order a round of beers, drink them as we walked to the other end, and then go back out into the heeeeat. When we finally arrived at Caesars, we were moving like the walking wounded: unsteadily, but with dignity and resolution. Duende and I sank with relief into a dark bar and ordered a round :=), while Fez Monkey and Saki made for the sports book, and Eggs went to the bathroom to throw up.
The spot where we sat was called Cleopatra's Barge, and yes, there was a little wooden barge there -- not a ship, and not a raft: a barge. The seating area was gloomy, and at first I could hardly see the bartender who brought us our Glenlivet. As my eyes got used to the dimness, I saw that he had very pale skin and his two, rose colored eyes darted about independently as he told us jokes and stories. I was scared; but we were drinking Glenlivet, so we stayed put.
We were on our third expensive round and had been rejoined by Eggs when a band began to assemble on a nearby stage. They were five Pinoy boys, and they called themselves "Hawaii 5-O", but we called them "the Five Bennies." They began to play jazzed up pop and TV theme songs. The band was nice -- not bad, and not memorable: it was nice. he he, "Hawaii 5-O".
"Isn't that Fez Monkey?" asked Duende in amazement, and it was true: there he was, in a corner of the stage, setting up a "Minus One." And Lo! there was Saki, taking up the mike. Backed by the Bennies, Saki let out an enthusiastic croon of "Ue o Muite Aruko" and I thought it was very good, even if Duende pooh-poohed it and Eggs breifly passed out. We shook Eggs back to conciousness, and compelled him to sing next. After a short talk with the Bennies -- conducted in tense whispers ("No, I don't know that one!") -- Eggs gave a fair impression of William Shatner singing the theme song to "Batman." The other patrons of Cleopatra's Barge grew restless. "It smells like tomatoes," I thought.
Duende began to glare menacingly at the barge's other tables. "This will not stand," he said of the booing that came from them. All the while, Fez Monkey had been table hopping, spreading a story that a hundred dollar prize was being offered to the best karaoke singer. He did this not for profit, nor out of spite: but just to see how many folks would buy his story.
We simply could not afford to drink at Cleopatra's Barge much longer, so we all stumbled back to the slot machines and video poker stands. Standing in front of a bank of machines, two small men were having a lively conversation. They were smiling and waving their arms back and forth and pointing here and there at the machines. They looked, and were dressed, exactly alike, and they both sported sugarbowl haircuts. "Uzbeks!" whispered Fez Monkey...
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
Fez_Monkey
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 - Top 1000 |
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Member: Fez Monkey
Location: Somewhere west of Ellay, near a beach
Reviews written: 110
Trusted by: 138 members
About Me:
Me? I'm just a lawnmower, you can tell me by the way I walk.
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