This week on The Bacchanalia!
The world’s most exclusive reality competition program.
The Tracer Round
on Water Island.
Seventeen contestants will fight to their very last to see who enters the Tracer Round.
The winners go on to the Grand Bacchanal.
A three day and two night long non stop run for their lives and…
A CHANGE TO SPLIT CLOSE TO A BILLION DOLLARS
with some lucky viewer.
This week we completely sold out for Matres of Schnoo Schnoo.
And more than ten thousand people will be here with us on Water Island to join the celebrations.
Sports Book is near record breaking numbers.
Somebody may have the chance to split over a billion dollars.
Sports Book stays open until the gates close.
“So, Bubbles, what do you think of that shit going on in East Whatdafukistan?” I look up from ‘Dakini Junior’ my latest tablet computer and say “Huh”, ‘cause I don’t recognized the masculine voice addressing me in such a familiar tone. So, I go back to my video. Another, deeper harder more masculine voice says, “You know about these things. Put your video game thingy down and come talk with some real people.” I look up and smile. Margaux is something special. Sweet as bean pie in the seventies. Political as fuck and if the poor ugly fuck didn’t remind you from time to time, by doing some completely blond bimbo shit and passing it off by saying. “That was some trailer trash Barbie shit Margaux…. Yeah… But I’m a girl… Duh.” I’d forget she is a girl. Wrapping her Popeye whole ham forearm around mine, clamping her right hand on top to secure her grip and dragging me into a circle of blah blah blah, like antebellum princess in heat. I failed to turn off my tablet while stuffing in my pocket for protection.
“Last season’s favorite, The Reaver Sisters are coming back with their patented Schnoo Schnoo Carousel and a new sponsor the Naga Sky Bike, after the disappointment of not getting the chance to face even one challenger in last festival’s final round in Prypiat. The Reavers have opted to enter The Dance, immediately following the The Tracer Rounds. So, you know we’re looking forward to see them do their thing early on.”
“So, um… Periwinkle it is it?” I don’t know this dude. So I don’t know how honest I should be, yet. Hold on. “So, um Margie says you wrote an article I read a few weeks ago on some philosophy that combines the butterfly effect theory to the political dynamics of interpersonal relationships effecting the actions of governments.” I’m fiddling with the controls on my tablet, which is in my pocket, “Um, ahh yeah. I wrote a practical explanation of someone else’s theory. I didn’t say I subscribe to it. I just understand it. I also understand they figured out how to make methane reactor they’re installing in the green way not smell like elephant farts and rotten eggs, and Spooky action at a distance. But right now I’m interested in knowing when the first batch of that lavender honey mead is going to spill out the cask. I mean do you really how hard it is to find monks these days.”
Margaux tugs my arm and says as gently as possible, nearly landing me on my ass, “Peri, Professor Alex here wants to know your thoughts on the President’s latest suggestion regarding local law enforcement. I was telling him…”
“Sports Book Brings you the Fiftteenth Bacchanalia Live from the beautiful Water Island resort.
Coming at the top of the hour…
…An exclusive interview with Justin Jeremy Micheals.
Sports Book is brought to you by Living Electric Next Door: Makers of the Pegasus 2, Valkyrie 6 and Mosquito 3 sports drone quadracopters and coming soon Naga Sky Bike.”
I finally realize the sound coming from my pocket is gone, because Professor Alex is finishing his question. “…Federally mandating local residency policies for law enforcement agents?”
I look up and say, “Oh that’s simple. Smart people need to make more babies and live in walking distance of each other. We were just at the groundbreaking ceremonies for the new research center on the Milwaukee Junction greenway. No more of drunken blah blah about lawful neutral cops and religious illiterates killing kids.” Dakini Junior sounds off and I yell across the garden, Yo’ fellas, I’m Out! Got to meet Winter so she can help me with the sports book.”
I lit my incense, tucked it into the black sand and gravel on the edge of the table top Koi pond. Kissed a leaf of the Bonsai dwarf apple tree, turn and started walking out of the garden.
“Yo Unk. Bacchanalia starts the week huh? Look, I understand that shit you was talkin’ ‘bout get some shit with a civilian application. We don’t need no mo’ cops shit. when I signed up. I wanna come back back to the old hood.” Thaddeus was imposing when he stood up straight, but he always hunched over when he spoke to me. And he always spoke to me in his softest inside voice, which just happened to be a booming basso. So he sounded kind of dumb. I lit a cigarette and blew the smoke so as to make him stand up. “Brah, you got a trade. You had one before you went to war, you had one before you became a suburban cop. You think because those people you work with can be like you, because they look like you. Man I’m going to a trendy club or bar or some kind of fuckin’ place to be seen, by all the people that go places to see people, so that Winter Whyte can help me bet three months worth of what you earn on bunch of dirty cops that opted to run in the Bacchanalia rather than face civil suits after being found not guilty in criminal court. Keep it up and I’ll be betting against you Niggah!”
