The Lucky Slot Machine
by Eric J. Krause
He sat at the slot machine, pressing "Play Max Credits," never looking up. This was the luckiest machine in the casino, and no one would play it but him.
Singe bar; blank; seven.
Again.
Double bar; single bar; triple bar.
Ten credits.
Again.
Blank; blank; double bar.
Again.
A cocktail waitress walked by. "Drinks, sir?" He answered with a quick shake of the head, and she wandered off. He never saw her look of concern.
Cherry; blank; seven.
Four credits.
Again.
Jackpot; jackpot; (he gave a harsh inhale); blank.
Crap.
Again.
Single bar; single bar; single bar.
Twenty credits.
Again.
Blank; seven; blank.
Again.
Eyes lingered on him, but he felt none of it. Or, if he did, he figured they were jealous of his machine. He couldn't lose.
Eight or nine hours ago (it was actually four days, but he'd lost all track of time), he put in two hundred credits ($50). He stood now at 146. No big wins, but it paid out steady.
Jackpot; jackpot; (sharp inhale); single bar.
Crap.
Again.
Blank; single bar; single bar.
Again.
Seven; double bar; blank.
Again.
Triple bar; triple bar; triple bar.
Sixty credits.
Whoot! Back to two hundred credits. A voice in the back of his mind told him to stop and press the cash-out button. Breaking even was the same as winning on the slots. He'd gone in expecting to lose, after all.
Again.
Blank; seven; jackpot.
That stupid voice didn't know this was a lucky machine. It was only a matter of time. And then he'd be on Easy Street.
Again.
Double bar; blank; single bar.
Again.
Single bar; single bar; triple bar.
Ten credits.
Yes, he'd be a fool to leave. This had to be the luckiest machine on the strip. It was just too bad he'd muted that nagging voice in his head--the one that said luck isn't always a good thing. Every passer-by who had to look at his emaciated form would agree.
Again.
Blank; triple bar; double bar.
Again.
Seven; jackpot; blank.
Again.
Single bar; blank; seven.
Again.
Blank; blank; cherry.
Four credits.
Again.
