Addiction

We all probably have a few. I know I do so I am usually sympathetic to people who seem to have harmless ones. J self-admittedly has a weakness. He has an addiction that demands any spare cash he may have on him. And I have to admit I am often an enabler, funding his addition occasionally just to see him become completely involved--I am a good friend that way. Besides I often benefit from his tumbles into uncontrolled behavior. J is addicted to claw machines. Like sirens sing to him when he in their proximity. As in the presence of sirens you can visible see the will drain out of him as he changes his bills for a jingling pocket full of quarters. I would be worried about him, but he is actually pretty good at the game so I get a contact high from him. Personally, they sing nothing to me. The claw sirens definitely target men. The purse, jewelry and shoe sirens are generally heard by females leaving men to think we are crazy.
Last Friday, J and I went to Oggies to celebrate the seventy-fifth anniversary of the End of Prohibition (December 5, 1933) with pizza and pitcher of beer. When the bill arrived, J threw down his half and then produced a tenner telling me he was going to win everything in the machine. I used the facilities next to the machines and found him completely engrossed. I asked how much he had spent. Like all addicts he lied. He said it was his first 50 cents but later felt guilty and amended it to his third try. The machine was pretty empty so it was clear to J that he was going to chase good money after bad so he asked "Do you want to go to Walmart?" As a good supporting friend agreed. We walked home with his pockets still somewhat jingling, put up the left over pizza and took his car to Walmart. Claw machines beckoned in the distance. He checked the machines out and decided that he would use the $1 machine--in my estimation the difference between crack and coke. He lost a few dollars on the imdomitable snowman from the Rudolf cartoon. Then he started to score, first with a stuffed box with a snowman head and feet. Then with a spunky green donkey and then he got it the snowman. As I was dragging the winning out of the bin, a group of teenagers walked by and "Awe is that sweet" my filled arms. J had 50 cents left, not enough for another try. Completely caught up in J's success, I dug a $5 out of my purse. He refused, I came up with a dollar bill, he agreed. So with my dollar he snagged an Elvis Elf--complete with sunglasses and a green satin cape. Elvis is now under my Christmas tree next to the snowman. Other winning that I scored from J's addiction are living in my car. I am cultivating a menagerie in the backseat until my car-pet Sam starts complaining about sharing his car.
I really want to go to Vegas with J, because if I have this much fun watching him win small prizes with his money and sometimes mine. I will have a blast watching him go saucer eyed at the craps table. Anyway watching other people blow their money is pretty cheap. So I think I will make out pretty well in Vegas with him there. He just has to join M and me for a 3 hour champagne brunch. Also a pretty cheap way to pass time in Vegas. My final words are Viva Las Vegas!