I have no idea how my WSOP Fantasy assignment turned into attempted manslaughter. I rarely have an ending in mind when I sit down to write. Hell, I rarely have a topic in mind. I just kinda go, which is why my Great American Novel remains under a pile of old underwear in my closet. It started out as an homage to my suburban youth and ended up with me getting carried out to sea by a huge wave that swept me off the rocks at Venice Beach when my buddy Kool Breeze and I were frying hard.
See, my literary skills are a little like that sentence. Rambling, unfocused, weird.
So that's how you end up with me shiving Hellmuth. I think I was also slightly influenced by darice and drizztdj and our recent outing as lovers (please don't stop reading the sentence there) of all things Stephen King. I think my Hellmuthian tale is somewhat derivative of a King short story called, "The Man Who Loved Flowers."
I must say, reading the various entries, I do not think we will lack for laughter in Vegas. Goddamn you all are good.
Anyway, my real blogger fantasy has nothing to do with Hellmuth and everything to do with side action with Evelyn Ng.
Did I say that out loud?