How Karl Memnon Lost His Wives

How Karl Memnon Lost His Wives

A Story by Mike Lamb

Booze and broads in Vegas, and the consequences of both.


Now there was a time--long time ago--when I was still among the living. And I was rich. Christ, was I rich. So I'm in Vegas, right? And I hit up this strip joint. Classy joint. Beautiful girls, full nude, hundred dollar champagne bottles, a guy in a tuxedo to clean the toilets...the works. Anyway, so I'm in the V.I.P. lounge with a roll a' bills. And I mean this place is wall-to-wall p***y. So I meet this girl, right? Barbie, just like the f****n' doll. Blonde hair, shaved clam, plastic tits and everything. Of course she fell in love with me; I was f*****g loaded and she had expensive tastes.


We drink champagne all night until her shift ends. Then we take my limo to one of those f****n' Vegas drive-through wedding chapels. They should outlaw those f****n' things if ya ask me. Turn 'em all into casinos and burger joints. Somethin' useful. But hey, f**k it. Seemed like a good idea at the time, y'know?


So anyway, we get a honeymoon suite at some s****y hotel. She picked the place--insisted on it. I should'a known something was up. But I go along with the whole bit just the same, cause she's smokin' hot and I'm just tryin' to get laid.


So we get to the room and she goes straight to the can to freshen up or whatever the f**k it is that chicks do before they drop their panties. Meanwhile I'm f****n' ripped, layin' in bed waitin'. And the f****n' room's spinnin'. She finally hops in the sack and we start goin' at it.


Then Barbie comes out of the bathroom in a trashy little outfit and starts yellin' at me because apparently this b***h had a twin sister, and apparently that's who I was in bed with. How the f**k was I supposed to know that? I was seein' double anyway. Her sister's name was Bettie. And Bettie was a dirty s**t.


So my wife calls up her boyfriend--who just happens to be a divorce attorney--and they start scheming up all these plans to get half my fortune. At this point I'm ready to leave, so I pull out and make a cup of pearl soup in her sister's navel. I wipe my c**k off with the bed sheet and get dressed so I can get the f**k out.


Now needless to say, I'm in a foul mood right about now. If ya ask me I think it was all a set up, and all three of those fuckers were in on it. Either way the b***h got her hooks in my bank account. Anyway, I decide to hit a casino to blow off some steam at the bar, maybe play a few hands of blackjack. I was never really a heavy gambler back in those days. Never really a heavy drinker, either. Fell off two wagons that night.


I went through a few gin and tonics. No, not a few--a lot. Poured out my soul to a nineteen year old cocktail waitress. She listens to all my drunken bullshit, every word. Then she starts cryin' and telling me all about her problems. My boyfriend threw me out in the streets. Got nowhere to go. Got no money. Got no family. Got no friends. Nobody loves me. Woe is me.


She was a stray dog. But she caught me at the right moment. We were a couple'a drunk miserable f***s in love.


She gets off work and has a few drinks with me. No, not a few--a lot. The people workin' the bar all pretend that she's old enough and serve her the booze, no questions asked. Plus, the drinks are ten bucks a pop, and she's blowin' all her tip money at the same bar she works at. Bosses love that kinda s**t. So we get drunk. Actually, she gets drunk, I get drunker. We talk about love and feelings and passion and all that f****n' wishy-washy bullshit. There's lots of weeping and hugging. Maybe some awkward groping here and there.


There's a guy at the bar, like some kinda Elvis priest. F****n' Vegas. He says he'll marry us for a dollar. And the stray dog gives him a dollar, like it's not even up to me. Like she was buying a hot dog at the fair! So then old Father Presley says some quick words and waves his hands and PRESTO! I've been hexed! Sign here. Thank you very much. So now I got two wives in one night.


I grab another drink and hit the blackjack table. I bring Dollface along for luck. If she brought any, it was all bad. So now I'm losin' more money. So I get more chips. And I lose even more money. Just pissin' it away. Every bet I make is bigger than the last one. And I can't win a hand for s**t. Maybe deep down I wanted to lose it all. Just go bankrupt in one big drunken whirlwind, y'know? Can't take my money away from me if I'm broke, right? I manage to turn everything into chips. The summer home in the Virgin Islands. The private jet. The Lamborghini. The Van Gogh originals. The Tesla Death Beam. My comic book collection. Bet it all. Lost it all.


I'd swear that f****n' blackjack dealer was the Devil himself. He took everything away from me as fast as I could burn it. I tried to bet my watch when the big money ran dry. He says I don't want your watch. I want your woman. Thought he was jokin' till I looked in his eyes. He was dead f****n' serious. Had the coldest smile I'd ever seen on a man. Win it all back in one hand, or lose your new bride. What's it gonna be?


F**k yeah, I took the bet. Hit on a thirteen and busted on a black queen. That's all, folks. I didn't take it as gracefully as the owners might have liked. Bouncers didn't mind though. They like it when you make a scene. That's their time to shine. So they beat the livin' s**t outta me and throw me out on my a*s.


First thing I do is snatch a bottle of Thunderbird from a wino and down the whole thing. I figure I need it more than he does. Maybe I should've been worried that he seemed to think so too.


But I must've had a little bit a' luck left cause I found a balled up Ben Franklin in my pocket. So I hit the casino next door and stagger over to the craps table. One bet. One roll. My luck's gonna turn around, I can feel it. Daddy needs a new pair of everything.


F****n' snake eyes! I f****n' snap and go on a rampage. I'm throwin' drinks and shovin' people, screamin' like a goddamn maniac. I punched out some lady I didn't even know. The bouncers grab me while the dealer jabs my f****n' eye out with the dice rake. Took my f****n' eye!


They throw me right back into that same f****n' alley. And guess who's standin' out there smokin' a cigarette, calm as can be? The f****n' blackjack dealer that ruined me. He asks if I wanna play another round. I tell him I ain't got no f****n' money. He already took it all. It's a different game, he says. You don't need money.


He takes a .357 Magnum out of a harness under his vest. Holds up one bullet. Drops it in, spins the wheel, and slaps it shut. Hands me the gun with that same cold smile on his face. F**k it. Got nothin' else to lose. Why the f**k not, right? I take the gun and put it up to my head. I pull the trigger. Click. Your turn, m**********r.


He puts the barrel against his temple. Still smiling. Click. S**t, looks like it's back on me now. Who f****n' cares, right? I pull the trigger. Click.


Now I'm startin' to smile. F**k you, dealer. I don't care if you are the Devil, I'm gonna watch you eat this f****n' bullet. I want my fortune back.


He puts the gun in his mouth. He pulls the trigger, still smiling. BLAM! Top of his head explodes. And he's staring right at me the whole time. He hands me the gun. Smiling. He drops dead the instant I take the revolver out of his hand.


Ten minutes later the meat wagon pulls up. Only thing is they had two bodies to deal with. I died right after the dealer. Alcohol poisoning. Ain't that a b***h?

© 2012 Mike Lamb

Author's Note

Mike Lamb
The following is an excerpt from my novel Jack's Inferno. This is the backstory of one of the characters presented as a stand alone short story. The character of Memnon is loosely based on a short story (entitled "Memnon") by Voltaire.

My Review

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I'm just disappointed that I checked your blog and realized you were mostly wrapping this up and putting all the finishing touches on your novel and I couldn't read it and help out.

The voice in this portion is absolutely fantastic. It's the kind that you read in your head, but you hear out loud. I'm literally laughing and snickering out loud at some of the things this narrator says like he's literally speaking to just me. Which is a great feeling for a narrator to give to the reader. It's extremely personal and buddy-buddy.

Other than that, I just wanted to highlight some small things.

"A guy in a tuxedo to clean the toilets"...I loved that for some reason. I think it's gotta be the irony.

"They should outlaw those f****n' things and if ya ask me." You've probably already fixed this in your own manuscript, but the word "and" needs to be taken out.

"Cup of pearl soup." F*****g fantastic.

His list of assets, awesome.

"F**k yeah, I took the bet." Hilarious.

This is by far my favorite thing I've read so far on this site, and I really do hope it ends up getting published. I'd love to support your great writing and get a copy myself, since the best I can probably do for a majority of the book is read the first few chapters you posted and some excerpts.

The only thing I can say that I don't like about this story is that I didn't write it : ( Bummer.

Posted 10 Years Ago

I've been to that hotel in Vegas. It's on the strip, in between The I'm Pearl Soup Palace and The Flaming Mingo. I lost my pink boa and diamond tiara to that same dealer, I'm sure of it. So grateful to know he's dead. The moral of the story is that it all stays in Vegas.

Oh greed. Timeless and euphoric. Just can't seem to get enough... ever.

Brilliantly written and told. Polished like a shiny silver dollar. Carry on!

Posted 10 Years Ago

What a way to go!!!

Posted 10 Years Ago

How come I liked this so much...?

Posted 10 Years Ago

This guy sounds a little *puts on sunglasses* down on his luck.
I'm trying my hardest not to read everything you've ever written but you're making it hard. So very hard. If you ever publish this I'll have to buy two copies, one I'll read and one I'll smoke. Cuz why the f**k not?

Posted 10 Years Ago

Roarke, you're in charge of all my press releases from now on.

Posted 10 Years Ago

Dante's Inferno, meets Voltaire's Candide then strained through Balzac, tie dyed with a little Harvey Kurtzman and Vaughn Bode, b***h slapped by Simon Bisley, waived over Tarantino and Miller like vermouth and then finally, exquisitely rendered and sensually wax sealed by the master, Mike Lamb..... that wasn't too heavy was it?

Posted 10 Years Ago

great humor! loved this story lots of fun to read

Posted 10 Years Ago

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8 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on September 3, 2010
Last Updated on March 27, 2012
Tags: dark comedy, black comedy, hell, vegas, divorce, gambling, poker, blackjack, Russian roulette, gin, strippers, Elvis


Mike Lamb
Mike Lamb

greenville, NC

Artist, writer, and a drunken lunatic prophet. I am the author of Jack's Inferno, a dark comedy bizarro/horror novel about Hell, previously published through Wordplague (now defunct). I am also a pro.. more..

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