Snapshots - Desert Heat
#4 of Snapshots
Author's Note: The fourth of my 'Snapshots' series. __Each of these shorts will consist of exactly 1000 words. If a picture is worth 1000 words, how much picture is 1000 words worth? Having recently visited a certain city for the first time, I was a little inspired, and chose to condense that inspiration -and my general impressions- into a story. This story is fictitious, and not intended to resemble specific people or events. It is, however, a story about a real place, real people, and real events, and one I hope captures their essence. If any of you reading this happen to live there, no offense is intended, this is merely my impression. Take this story as you will.
_Enjoy! _
_Big thanks to- _
-for the idea, and the permission to use the concept. Go check out his 1000 word adventures too!
Thanks also goes as always to Guri for proofing.
_ Desert Heat _
The Strip is friend to no man.
Sweat trickles down my brow, stinging my eyes. Thanks to the oversized, foam costume head, I can't wipe it away. Blinking rapidly doesn't help much.
The air reeks of smoke and cheap perfume, seasoned with sweet alcoholic fumes. The liquor license extends to the street, so bottles wrapped in brown bags are one of the few sites you won't see on the Strip.
I wave at a knot of passing tourists. They pretend not to see me. I guess they don't get what a novelty I am. Residents are another rare sight here. The Strip gives the impression that nobody actually lives in Vegas. Half the cars you see are cabs, and half of the remaining ones have out of town plates.
My footpads ache. How long have I been standing here today? Time has little meaning when you don't own a watch. The sun went down some time ago, but the pavement still hasn't fully cooled. The costume feet aren't big enough to go over my shoes, which means I go barepawed. They also aren't well cushioned. I've grown accustomed to burned pads.
A hyena walking with a vixen spots me, his face lighting up with characteristic stoner inspiration. I already know he's not going to leave a tip.
"Hey, Meg, let's snap one with this dude, huh?"
She shakes her head, but he's already posing next to me with an, 'I'm stoked to be here' grin. I humour him with a thumbs up. Meg rolls her eyes, before digging a smartphone from her purse and snapping one.
"C'mon, Jerome. Give him his tip and let's go. I don't wanna miss the show."
"Oh, right!" Jerome slaps his forehead, giving me a hangdog look and pointing down at my tip box. "Sorry, bro, I totally don't have any cash. Catch ya later, maybe?"
I shrug noncommittally, and he retreats saying, "Thanks bro! You're the man!" As they walk away, he takes handouts from the chihuahuas hawking escort services on my corner. Meg gives him a dirty look, to which he shrugs and flashes her a winning smile. A happy couple then.
I give my box a kick. It reacts with the inert thunk of a hollow object. Most people think we cosplayers get paid by some casino to stand out here and look stupid. We don't. Truth is, my trade is a small step up from panhandling. The costume makes it a bit classier.
What sort of schmuck am I dressed as anyway? I'm beginning to think the guy at the costume place sold me a bill of goods. I was going to go for one of those Disney costumes -the sort I remember from my childhood- but he assured me this yellow square... thing... was all the rage with the kids these days. Problem is, I think he really meant 'kids' as in, children. Don't get a lot of those on the Strip.
The lack of kids isn't a huge surprise. Most parents aren't too keen on the idea of bringing their offspring to a place where open newspaper boxes contain ads for strippers and hookers.
Those few parents that do come with kids attached have a policy. It's called, 'Here, kids, have forty bucks. Now go play in the arcade.' Meanwhile, mom and dad will do their best to make up that forty, and more, out with the pit bosses, big-spenders and card sharks. They usually don't succeed, though if they're lucky, they'll break even. If they're smart, they'll see that as a win and call it a day.
Most don't, and that's when they learn the Vegas secret. The house typically wins, and Lady Luck is a very fickle mistress. Fair isn't in her vocabulary.
Vegas is a town that promises everything for nothing, then leaves you with nothing for everything. I'm pretty well versed in that fact. All the sidewalks here are designed to filter you directly past the welcoming entrances of the glitzy establishments, where you can be tempted by whatever offers of wealth or lust lie within. Being a pedestrian on the strip is its own gamble. You can lose far more than your pocket change here.
A dalmatian family with a little girl has stopped in front of me, staring agape at the towering edifices. The girl -maybe five?- sees me, and her smile is like a new sunrise.
"Daddy! Look!"
The father turns. I wave. He moves to pull his daughter back, but she's already running over. I'm a little surprised when she gives me a hug. I return it a bit awkwardly. She's still probably too young to know that it's just an ordinary fur beneath the facade.
"Okay, sweetie, let's go now," the father calls. The girl smiles up at me again, taking an obedient step away. Her foot snags on my box, and she starts to fall. Instinctively, I steady her. Her eyes widen, the half-formed shriek dying on her lips.
"Thanks mithter!" She skips back to her father, tugging at his tailored sleeve and pointing at my box. "Daddy! Pwease?"
He sighs, giving her a long-suffering look, but I suppose he figures he owes me, because he digs out his wallet and hands the girl a dollar bill. Somehow, her gap-toothed grin stretches wider, and she hop-scotches back over, dropping the bill in my box.
"Here you go, mithter!"
She waves as her father pulls her away, and I wave back. One dollar. It means so little, yet so much. It'll buy a hamburger from Mcdonalds. It's enough to keep my knotted belly from preceding the rest of me in withering away to nothing.
I'll call it a day soon. Maybe I'll get another dollar. Maybe I'll swing by the Bellagio and catch the fountain display, before heading back to my refrigerator box. No matter how many times you see it, that show is pretty spectacular. Good place to chow down on a burger, actually.
Life is good.