Nymphomation(31)

Candlelight and cathode glow. Four various men, playing their various games around a television set. The set is in the middle of the room, at the centre of a series of geometrical shapes on the floor. One man is cross-legged in front of it, his black skin dancing with dots of chance. Is that a domibone he holds against the screen? A second man, taller, older, is pacing around the television carrying a large black book. He appears to be mumbling. Could he be chanting, maybe? The third man is sitting at a computer screen, on which Cookie Luck is also dancing, along the Burgernet. His fingers move like a swarm over the keyboard. Does he have green hair? He does. The last man is working at another computer. He has a hat (a trilby?) and a pair of glasses (Calvin Kleins?) This guy isn’t working the keyboard, he’s just gazing at the screen. Is he dancing, slowly, gently, in tune with Miss Cookie Luck?

There’s your Jazir, and Daisy was still missing him.

She gave up her work, gave in to the television, the dance to see which numbers won. Sure, just for research you understand, to see if one of the more unusual combinations came up. But that just made her think about that girl, that lucky/unlucky girl who had given her the half-bone last weekend. Daisy hadn’t seen her since then, and she couldn’t stop thinking…

Another blurb! Quickly! Take us to a district called Gorton, West Manchester. Once thriving, then dead, now a half-alive wasteland studded with all-night burgerbars catering to the all- night cinema complexes. A few old-style public houses here and there, buttressed, and a dingy row of shops, catering to the drunks. Find the last TV shop in that row, zoom in…

A young kid sitting on the shoulders of a big bear of a man, both of them staring at a lonely, barely alive TV screen. Beggars, therefore. Both of them fixated upon the bones in their hands. There are no other beggars around, so the child must actually be happier on the giant’s shoulders. The blurb descends to buzz around the young girl’s head. ‘Get off me, you nasty fly!’ she mutters at the bug and bats it away, not daring for a second to miss the last seconds of Cookie Luck’s dance.

There’s your Celia, and Daisy was still thinking about her as nine o’clock chimed…

A two! Another two!

… to a standstill.

The double-two. The way the cookie lovingly crumbles, once in a million games. Game over. Manchester cries. Shock and despair. ‘Somebody, somewhere,’ called out Tommy Tumbler from the city’s screens, ‘just won themselves a day in the House of Chances!’

But none of our chosen players, alas.

Daisy smiled and congratulated herself on not having played that week. Of course, there was always the feeling of ‘dominoid’: what the punters called the feeling that you might well have won, if only you’d played. Especially when a double comes up…

PLAY THE RULES

10a. Not all of the dominoes are equal. Some bring greater prizes than others.

10b. Any winning domino whose pips add up to a lucky seven – the one-and-six, the two-and-five, the three-and-four – allow the winner to claim an extra million lovelies on top of the normal prize.

10c. The double-one domino allows the winner a pair of seats at the next live staging of the domino game.

10d. The double-two allows the winner a day within the domino’s headquarters, where they might witness the fair and scrupulous preparation of the next week’s game.

10e. The double-three allows the winner to wear with pride a genuine Lady Luck costume, fully functioning with dancing dots, custom-tailored to fit, whether male or female.

10f. The double-four allows the winner to appear on television during the next domino game, close enough to stare at Cookie Luck even as she dances the numbers wild.

10g. The double-five allows the winner actually to dance with Cookie Luck, live on television and all over the city.

10h. The double-six of dominoes is the ultimate prize; like a court card and an ace in the game of pontoon, it allows the winner to become the new Mister Million.

10i. The double-six is a prize beyond all reckoning. The chances of winning it should be meaner than any other combination.

10j. The double-zero of dominoes brings the winner a prize of mystery, which shall be deemed a bad prize, the so-called Joker Bone. The nature and the exact detrimental effect of this prize shall remain secret until the actual winning.





Play to win


The following Monday, Daisy reached college early. Grabbing a coffee from the refectory, she carried it carefully to the library, where she handed her student’s ID to the librarian, a certain Miss Crimson. Daisy got clearance and walked through to where a bank of computers were lying idle, only waiting for a student’s button-touch. As the Whoomphy Burger graphic played itself out, she looked over her assignment notes: ‘What are the chances of winning first prize in the AnnoDominoes, when only 75 per cent of the gamblers are playing to win? Solution to be delivered by Monday, at the very latest. (That includes you, Ms Love!)’