There Ain't No Dominoes In Vegas

By Henri Bauhaus

Everett Autumn is a Big Easy writer, who likes to read his poetry in public and take long night walks. On one hot summer night the combination of these two activities leads to some rather sinister conclusions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Henri Bauhaus
• Release date: Jun 6, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310638862

Henri Bauhaus

My short stories and novellas tend to have one foot based in a real life situation and the other one set in an imaginary or parallel world. Much of my literary background comes from a nomadic lifestyle that began when I left the safe haven of my college town (Syracuse, NY) and headed for the Caribbean Coast of Mexico, where I planned to be a beach bum for a winter. Upon my return to the USA, I settled in the colorful city of New Orleans, but since those carefree days I have lived in many parts of the U.S. and traveled extensively in Canada and Europe. I blog at http://yeyeright.wordpress.com.

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There Ain't No Dominoes in Vegas

A Short Story by Henri Bauhaus

Copyright © 2015 Henri Bauhaus

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means (electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason (excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use) without the specific written permission of the author.

There Ain’t No Dominoes In Vegas

Though still September, the New Orleans night was hot and humid and the Southern Discomfort, a popular Fauborg-Marigny drinking establishment, was filled to capacity. Fortunately, the AC system of the two story building dispersed the body heat quite well, actually making the bar and makeshift stage quite comfortable, for those who had gathered to hear the poetry reading. The joint was quite crowded, as one wordsmith after another stepped upon the raised platform, stood before the mike and gazed out across a slightly inebriated audience that had come to attend the weekly, literary event.

Teddy Stewart was the MC and he played his part well. Just for this special occasion he had his dark, brown hair, slicked back and oiled down. The dapper, young man also wore a light tan pin-striped suit, with a black, long-sleeve shirt sharply accented by white buttons, shiny new cufflinks and a solid white necktie, not to mention a white pair of saddle shoes that matched his tie.

Assisting Mr. Stewart was a scantily clad young