One Hundred and Holy Hell Hot
By Royal Hopper
It was so freaking hot that the transvestite who hangs out on Tropicana decided to forgo wearing a blouse and went with the simple strapless low cut black sundress instead. He even trimmed his beard.
It was 116 degrees according to a porch thermometer on my Mother’s porch. In technical terms it was a hundred and Holy Hell Hot and everybody was pissed off about it.
A man sporting a crop of gray hair was seen on a nearby corner sporting a gray biker/punkabilly leather vest.
I’m sure the heat was what he used to convince his wife the reason he had the retro punk ability biker gear on in the middle of the day didn’t mean he was having a second childhood it cooler wearing my sleeveless leather vest its cooler than a T-shirt. The heat made tempers flare even in the early morning when temperatures were a chilly 85 to 90 degrees.
For Instance: Trash Cans Piss People Off
Heat and Trash cans really piss some people off…and those plastic trash bags ..forget about it …I stood watching one Las Vegas man who was so angry at the cheap clear plastic trash bags that are scattered throughout the city he scooped it off the ground while the hotel employee who was
collecting the trash stood by watching and I think smirking…and tossed the trash bag into the street.
He then showed the trash bag who was boss by kicking the crap out of it and scattering several dozen empty
water bottles, soft drink cups and assorted empty containers of alcoholic beverages across Las Vegas Boulevard in the wee hours of the morning.
The display was followed by a series of loud pops as morning commuters ran over the air filled plastic and paper containers. I imagine street wise Sin City residents and their equally streetwise cousins from LA must have jumped a bit as the gun shot like thumps of exploding drink bottles and cups filled the air.
It was a hundred and Holy Hell Hot this week in Vegas.
While walking the dogs after work I spied a gentleman laying under a tree with a can of Foster’s beer near his head.
Shortly after that I spied a $5 bill on the ground not far away.
I thought for minute, I picked up the bill, though for a few more seconds then deposited the fiver back on the ground certain he had seen it and walked back to my truck -_ my ancient Labrador Retriever Spazz in tow.
Maybe he was homeless, maybe just drunk and tired but I didn’t leave the bill where he could see it because of that. I left it because it was clear that why ever he was in the park crashed out underneath a tree in 115 degree day he needed the beer money a lot more than me. Foster’s is imported from Australia and is not that cheap brother.
That’s life in the City of Sin
Rock On Sinners
And for the love of Foster’s stay frosty