Intro

Boy, you need to understand that visions are indeed real. They're the inklings of the universe running its course through your veins, sending shivers down your spine, notifying you that you are indeed at one with it; at that very moment, you are correct. So, only fools don't trust in visions, because only fools don’t trust in themselves.

He always seemed to find a way to muddle up wisdom. Jeremy acted and lived like a hobo from times of old. He felt like a man straight out of the beat generation, a wild protagonist with an even wilder mane of hair who was meant to ride boxcars not some beat up Prius.

I still remember the first day I met Jeremy. It was at a shitty run of the mill casino down by the Salton Sea, I had stopped for gas and a cheap meal, but was drawn to the slot machines. I wouldn’t have called myself depressed, but a part of me thought that if a spin of slots could make me a rich man, maybe then I wouldn’t worry so much. I was young and didn't know a damn thing about life, but then again, that's where Jeremy comes in, you need guys like him, guys with a bit of experience but a whole lot of balls to show you how life is supposed to be lived. 

Not in steps, but in strides.

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Chapter 1

"Kid, you ain't gonna get shit playing that quarter machine, trust me. Shit's a scam and a half," he said this in-between bites of that halfway eaten subway sandwich that looked as if it was one straw away from toppling to the floor. I was too shocked to say anything. I wasn't particularly social as a youth, and didn't know how to respond to this strange individual, who both looked and smelled of homelessness and distress. I was also not one to judge purely on appearances, or better said, what I assumed his appearance entailed, and thankfully, this crazed man didn't seem to take my silence as an offense.

"If I had your youth and looks, hell I could set you up with a couple of broads from around these parts that would be a pretty penny for a firm hand and a good fucking, but I don't peg you as the type for that.”

I let that second comment go, I had an Uncle that was a bit rough around the edges when it came to delivering his point. Instead I focussed on the gem at the core of his shit encrusted sentence.

"Isn’t all gambling a scam? No one ever really wins do they?”

I had said this in all honesty, and I could tell by the way he peered over me in-between bites that he knew I was just as naive as I sounded.

“Life itself is a gamble, kid, but I won’t be like the rest of those sophisticated cocksuckers, I’ll show you, rather than leave you here to unravel the garbage encrusted riddles that they love to pander off as wisdom. Don’t get me wrong, kid, they’re right, but words never helped anyone, well it’s kinda like speaking to a deaf guy and then getting mad when they get your coffee order wrong.”

He paused as he took another few bites of his sandwich, it was a meatball marinara, and he needed napkins, badly.

“Let me wrap this up, and then you follow me. I’ll show you a little more about this thing called life that everyone seems to always make such a big fuss over.”

And so I sat at the machine, no longer inserting my coins in the slot that made that nice clicking sound that only metal on drop can make as he took a seat at the machine next to mine. We sat in silence as he finished his meatball marinara.

It sounded every bit as gross as you can imagine