I'm standing at the ATM, about to suck some cash from the machine, when an attractive, thin blonde stumbles into me.
"I don't have any more money," she slurs. Had I a match, her breath would flame from her mouth. I notice she's holding up the wall.
"I was up nine hundred," she says. "Then I lost it all. Roulette. Now I can't find my husband." She giggles. "I need more money," she says as I reach for my Krispy Kreme-destined bills. (We all have our vices, after all.)
"Don't be stupid," I utter as I turn away, her hands already trying to force her credit card into the slot.