Mugman Casino Cups Novels & Stories

It’s a good thing that you like to cook, because we like to eat. – Lightening Nessie was right. The women wanted table cloths. She did away with the old black coffee cups. The men did not want dainty coffee mugs. With her evil streak, she ordered small pink cups with frilly flowers. Toad bellowed at her to quit laughing and get the real mugs. Nessie was still giggling as she handed out the 24 ounce black mugs with the patch embossed on it. A few days later, matching travel mugs were added.

Right like I’d seen him sit down so many times with me to watch anything longer than five minutes on a screen. I let out a shaky sigh as the countdown clock trimmed seconds away. I didn’t know if caffeine was a good choice at that particular moment, but I needed to do something to get distracted. So I grabbed one of the trays of cupcakes I’d brought from the Manor and filled the Haunters mug I’d picked for the occasion. I was still screwing the thermos bottle cap when all the lights went out in the theatre, leaving me in complete darkness too. Take that for an irony.

It wasn’t until that fateful night, when my strength waned to the point of desperation, that I finally dialed his number. John’s enthusiasm upon receiving my call was palpable. Without hesitation, he whisked me away to the Crestwood Hotel, an establishment he owned, which also housed an exclusive members-only club concealed within the bustling casino. Upon our arrival, he presented me with a key to a private suite, where a server awaited with a replenishing supply of warm rabbit blood. While others chose to indulge from various servers, I was resolute that I could only drink from the one person I was trying to convince myself I no longer needed.

The blue was uneven, slightly darker in places, handmade or close to it. She had never seen this mug before. But Caius had. The memory came without being called, the way the strongest ones did, surfacing clean and complete. A market, winter, six years ago. A stall with ceramic things, this mug in his hand, the cold making his breath visible. He had been thinking about her. He had picked the mug up because the blue was the right shade and she would like it and he was going to give it to her. She had been standing at the next stall and she had seen it in his hand and said something about the chip, something light, just a comment, and he had smiled and put it in his jacket pocket and not given

“Drink some warm water. I’ll take you for dinner.” Lana widened her eyes. When she saw the logo on the pink insulated mug, she was secretly shocked. Oh, my goodness! If she was not mistaken, the price of this mug ranged between a few dozen thousand dollars to more than $100,000. Everett was really impressive! “Ms. Sutton, your mug.” Zayn handed a mug of the same brand in another color to Lana and said, “Sorry for the long wait. Mr. Craig purposely asked us to prepare this for you.”

He could not let anyone hurt her again. After a while, he turned onto a street with bright lights. The sound of music and laughter spilt out from the doors ahead. A casino. He had been here before. A place where people lost more than money. He thought he could use the crowd to hide for a while, to clear his mind. Inside, the casino was loud. Chips clicked on tables. Roulette wheels spun. Lights flashed red, green, and blue. People shouted and cheered. Miguel walked past them all, his eyes scanning the room. He needed a drink.

the man followed. Within just a few minutes, I found myself sitting on a single leather chair right in front of the ring. I heard noises from the upper bleachers and saw some of the ordinary citizens queueing a while ago. The VIP slots were only ten meters away from the ring. I coughed as I inhaled a smoke coming from expensive tobacco, I knew the brand. As I glanced to my left, I saw a beer belly man in a white suit busy puffing his cigar while a woman in a red dress snaked her hand around his arm. "Darling, what if Blue Moon Warrior won't win tonight? We're going to lose a lot of money!" the woman asked.

"$10,000." "$20,000," I countered. "$25,000." "$30,000." He chuckled under his breath. "You really want that mug?" "Not the mug. Just the satisfaction of you losing." The crowd murmured. The announcer's voice rose over the tension. "$30,000 going once—going twice—" Wayne raised his hand one last time. "$50,000." Gasps. I didn't blink. "$100,000."

I will not lose my eight-year streak, especially not to them. "May I ask what's in this?" Mr. Montgomery asks, looking at the cup in front of him. "No, Dad, it's part of the rules," Justin says, and I nod, smirking. "The only way out is if everyone doesn't drink any of it and places their cups down," I say, directing their attention to the red cups filled with the mystery green shakes with tiny red specks. "If you don't want to consume it, leave it on the table. If you drink it all, you win. If you take a sip, you are still a loser. If you throw up minutes after you drink it, you are still a loser."

Chapter 19 stm /*R18*/ “How's the business going?” Hugo entered the VIP lounge of his club, flanked by his body guards who took their place at the door. He waved in the air to bring his regular order and turned to Luca who was nursing a glass of scotch and two girls working on him. “It's jammed today. The strippers are in full swings. People are falling like flies. Mochi is out in the cage and men are getting wild”. Luca said with a smirk and Hugo smirked too. He knew Mochi would mooch off the men of their money.