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THE DAY STARTED WITH Scott and Michael deciding to have a few bloody Mary’s as Scott’s potential brother-in-law washed downed his scrambled eggs over easy with crisp bacon.  He didn’t want to talk about Pip or the conversation they’d had, and he definitely didn’t want to talk about his sister.

“I want to have some damned fun, Scott,” he said suddenly.  “Let’s hit some strip clubs, get massages with a happy ending, and get drunk as hell.”

“I don’t get drunk,” Scott said.

“Today, you will. The sky is the limit. I want to gamble and just let loose,” Mike said with a smile.

“What do you mean by letting loose?” Scott asked and soon found out the hard way. Michael’s idea of fun and Scott’s were at opposite ends of the spectrum, however, the stress of fighting with Zelda outweighed his common sense.  He too decided to get loose and have some fun.

Fun nearly got both Scott and Michael arrested for trying to free the lions at the MGM Grand. Around noon, they were kicked out of the all you can buffet at the Aladdin for sneaking in a street urchin’s show monkey and letting it nibble on the food. After letting the monkey run free, Michael thought it would be a good idea to stuff their pockets full of meatballs, hot wings, and mini sausages so they would have something to eat for later.

A woman called the police on Scott when he offered to share with her his mini sausage in his pocket around two in the afternoon. The police officer didn’t detain him when Mr. Berger actually produced a handful of mini sausages from his jacket pocket. Holding the citation, Scott blew his nose on it, yelling death to pigs and screaming ‘you can’t catch me copper,’ as he and Michael ran down the street.

By four o’clock, drunker than either wanted to admit, they happily wandered into a strip club and took seats at the bar, enjoying the acrobatic antics of a woman with breasts in two different sizes.  It only took thirty minutes before someone began screaming at Scott, “Good Lord, man, put your clothes back on!”

Evidently, he’d became bored with the woman sporting the oddly shaped breasts and found her dancing to be less than satisfactory, deciding he had far more skills at working up the audience. Michael, encouraging his friend, pulled out a wad of singles, yelling he would make it rain as Scott gyrated suggestively on the stage. On his hands and knees, Scott sagged his back four times, swiveled his butt cheeks, and then made each hump move independently. Michael, impressed with his friend’s talents, began to shower him with loose $1 bills and a handful of quarters, shouting, “Work that ass you hairy, bucked toothed bastard!”

The raining of money and loose coins egged Scott on as he looked over his shoulders at the men at the end of the bar, shaking his money maker even harder.

A gentleman in thick glasses scowled, speaking to the man seated next to him, “Ewww! The women in this club have really gone downhill.  I think that big hairy one has a penis!”

Three large black men from the back of the room came forward, trying with little luck to get Scott off the stage. He grabbed the oil the woman had been using to grease up her body, pouring it over himself slipping and sliding across the stage on his belly.

“He’s safe!” Michael yelled like an umpire as Scott slid head first into a beer-bellied man who almost caught him, but a greasy Scott slithered to the floor. The three security men which had been chasing him stopped in their tracks when Scott started to bark at them, followed by Michael who began beating on his chest as he barked as well.

Thrown out on the street, greasy, in his underwear, Scott held his clothing bundled in his arms as Michael feebly tried to help him dress. Armed with logic, Michael knew the best way to get the grease off Scott was for his friend to wash his body.

More security officers chased Scott out of the fountain at the Bellagio. “You can’t bathe here, sir,” the man said.

“He’s covered in stripper lube,” Michael offered, teetering to one side. The last twenty-five whiskey shots were starting to impact his balance.

“You two need to head back to your hotel before you get into a world of trouble,” the guard told him.

“Trouble is my middle mu-fuckin’ name,” Michael said, droopy-eyed, falling over onto the sidewalk. “Michael Trouble mu-fuckin’ Fitsssssimmonons! Wait!  There a Z in there somewhere. Scottie!  I lost my mu-fuckin’ Z!”

“Yeah! What he said! And I’m Scott mo-fuckin’ Ham-Berger!” he said pointing a dripping wet finger at the security officer as he sat down in the fountain, washing the lube from his arms. For good measure, he washed hit pits, reaching for his underwear to wash the naughty bits inside the shorts.

“Get your hand out of here,” the man told them. “Then get your drunk ass out of that fountain!”

“We’re leaving, not ‘cause we scared of you, but because I want to ride in a mother-ferkering gondola driven by a Where’s Waldo lookin’ sumbitch!”

“Weee!” Michael yelled, scrambling unevenly to his feet. “Gondola rides!”

Micheal helped Scott dry off with his jacket, then get dressed. The buttons on his shirt were uneven as well as the shirt being on inside out. Scott’s shoes were on the wrong feet which made him walk like a clown as they made their way over to the Venetian to ride the gondolas.

The Venetian Hotel also escorted them off the property after Michael determined he was no longer able to hold his water, standing in the gondola and peeing off the side of the boat. Peeing off the side of the boat was far better than Scott throwing up on the Gondola driver after getting a bout of motion sickness. The vomiting came with such force, it evacuated his bladder.

This was the final straw in their trouble making, bringing out the LVPD instead of hotel security. As they were about to be arrested, a small voice could be heard from the back of the crowd which had gathered to see what was happening.  “Release them to me. I will get them back to their hotel,” she said.

Recognizing Samantha Martelli, the owner of the Burlesque Dolls, the officer released Scott and Michael to her care. Grimacing, he told Samantha, “Just make sure you take those two assholes somewhere to get sobered up,” he told her.

Michael, trying to pull down his pants to show the officer his actual asshole, was stopped by Samantha, whose driver ushered Michael towards the car.

“Where are you staying, Scottie?” She asked him.

“I’m staying with my Zelda,” he said. “I hate it when you call me Scottie. It feels nasty.”

“I’m sorry, Scott,” she told him.

“Who is this Scott, your Grandma?” Michael asked, eyeing Samantha sideways. His vision was blurred and he saw two of her, two of Scott and a myriad of little birds flying about his head which he tried feebly to catch.

“No, she was my first girlfriend. She loved me so much,” he said, feeling teary-eyed.

“You had a cougar when you were a cub?” Michael asked, laughing then making pawing movements at Samantha and mewling.

“Shut up, both of you, and get in the car,” she said, pushing them towards her limo.  She already knew where Scott was staying, instructing her driver to take them all to the suites where Zelda was waiting impatiently for his return.

“We never got to talk much after...,” Scott said, slobbering a bit. “Except for those two times on my burfday.”

“There wasn’t anything to say, but I tried to see you and say I was sorry for what I did to you,” Samantha said.

“No apology needed. I turned out okay,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

“But I was wrong.  What I did to you was wrong,” she said as the car came to a stop at a red light. “Your heart is so pure and sweet, I feared I had damaged you irrevocably, but then I met Zelda.  You are lucky to have her.  Don’t let her get away.”

“She’s my sister,” Michael said with pride, his eyes red from the last round of whiskey shots before boarding the gondola. “I love her so much.”

“Zelda is a very lucky woman to have two men love her the way you both do,” Samantha added.

“My girlfriend told me this morning that I would be happier if I stuck my cock in my sister since it seemed like she was the only woman I could ever really love,” Michael said with a sad face.

Scott burst out laughing.

“I thought the same damned thing!” he said giggling. “Pip said that!  God, that is funny!”

“It’s not funny! It’s not funny at all. Did you know that 1 in 12 women are assaulted every day? Sick men prey on vulnerable young girls and my sister was vulnerable. I protected her,” he said. “I kept her safe. I’m a good brother!”

“Yep. So safe, she is afraid to live,” Scott said. “So are you. I need you to break up with my woman, so I can have her all to myself.”

“I need you to break up with mine, so Pip can feel free to love me. She is holding me to your standard, and I feel like I’m falling short,” Michael said, leaning against the window.

“Zelda is holding me to yours,” Scott said, wiping the drool from his mouth.

Michael leaned in, laying his head on Scott’s shoulder.  Scott rested his head on top of Michael’s hoping to ease the spinning feeling. “I love you man,” Scott mumbled.

“I love you too bro,” Michael said, starting to tear up a bit. “Man, I am so tired of this shit.  I just want my woman, a nice life, and some kids after I travel a bit. That’s it.”

“I want to travel with my wife, then have a few kids, and remodel that crazy ass house.  I love your sister, Mike.”

“I know you do Scott.”

“Then let her go,” Scott said.

“I am letting her go,” Michael mumbled. “You let go of Persephone.”

Half passed out, they clung to each other like children after a long field trip. The vehicle rolled down the Las Vegas strip taking two men back to the women they professed to love to start a new chapter of a life they both wanted but was fighting to start.  The past haunted them both in different ways, leading to a dimly lit road, full of bumps.

Samantha watched the exchange between the two understanding a kindred spirit had been found with Scott, but the outing had been about more.  The drunken spree was about friendship. A connection. Finding a common ground to voice the words that would have otherwise caused an outright brawl between the two men.

“So, you two had to get drunk in order to get that out?” Samantha asked.

“Shut up you mu-fuckin’ pedophile,” Scott said, giggling again. “I am going to be sooo sick in the morning. Hey! Mike! Look! It’s our hotel.  I’m going to get a cookie.”

“His blood sugar is dropping,” Michael said softly.

“So is his IQ.” She said when the driver stopped the car. “You two be safe.”

Michael jumped out first, calling for Pip. He sang her name all the way up the elevator until he reached the fourth floor.

“Baby!  Bay....Bay!  Persephone, I love you!  Marry me,” Michael yelled.

Zelda opened the door to see a pissy pants, Scott, staggering along beside her drunken brother. Pip, who had been waiting in the hotel room with her, blinked furiously, trying to understand what she was seeing. The two men, hugged up together, holding each other up as they staggered down the hall.

“Michael, we have been waiting for you two to come back.  Zelda and I called, hoping we would go out for dinner or something tonight, but neither of you answered your phones,” she said.

Scott pulled two mini sausages and some squished meatballs from his pocket. “We brought snacks!”

Michael, teetering, fell into Pip, holding her, trying to kiss her face.  His breath prevented the exchange as she turned her head to the side, avoiding the sour stench emanating from his mouth.

“Persephone, I don’t want to fuck my sister,” Michael told her. “I love her with all my heart, but the only woman I want to stick my wee-wee in for the rest of my life is you.”

“Wow, so romantic,” Pip said, looking at Zelda, whose eyebrows were arched in surprise at Michael’s words.

“I’m drunk. I can’t be romantic when I’m drunk! I can say what is on my mind, and I love you. I want you to be my wife. I brought you a ring that I was going to bring to Cincinnati, but all that talk about your Mama was scary. Then the hurricane. I have it in my bag, but I am sleepy and my ass hurts,” he said.

Scott, on the other hand, took a more direct route.

“Zelpa! Dammit!” he said. “You are my woman and I need you to break up with Michael so you can be free to love me.”

“I do love you, you big idiot,” she said, still trying to piece everything together between what her brother was saying and Scott mispronouncing her name.

“This is what we are going to do. I’m going home. While I’m gone, you are going to get some counseling. You get the first session free. Go to every mu-fuc...wait, bad words in front of ladies is a no-no,” Scott said reaching for the couch, missing, landing on the floor.

He continued his king of the castle decree, “You shall go to every headshrinker in Vegas to unwind the pizzle. Talk it out, get clear.”

“You think that will work?” Zelda asked, questioning the clarity of his drunken mind.

“It’s better than doing nothing, Baby. It’s better than writing your anger on pages no one sees or reads. When this Vegas thing is over, you are going to meet my family, then we are going to set a date, and you are gonna...we gonna get married,” he said, the Kentucky accent roaming free. “I love you and this mu-fuc...oops bad word, the room is spinning.”

“I love you as well, Scott,” she said.

“Good. We have a plan and I want a cookie,” he said, leaning his head back on the couch, falling asleep with squished meatballs in his hand, urine soaked pants and covered in some form of grease all over his arms.  To Zelda, her big hairy man he had never looked more lovable.

“Zelda, I’m going to take Michael to my suite,” Pip said, placing her arm around him while using her hand to grab his luggage.

“Good night, Pip,” Zelda said, struggling with a six foot two, two hundred and twenty-five-pound man.  After a few minutes, she opted instead to remove the damp clothing, put a pillow under his head, and let him sleep where he lay.  As he once told her, sometimes, you have to let sleeping dogs lie.

She would take care of him in the morning.