Wizard of Odds Fan Fiction

WIZARD OF ODDS FAN FICTION
PART I

BY: AN ADORING FAN

The Wizard woke up early on a Wednesday. The dimness of the room inferred the sun had not yet ignite the morning sky. The world was asleep along with the sun; the buzz of a busy day was distinctly missing.

The Wizard rolled out of bed and put on his usual purple Wizard hat and purple Wizard robe. Many thought it was weird. The Wizard knew better; he had to get into character.

It was time.

He parked blocks away from the Downtown Las Vegas lights, near an abandoned building. As he shuffled past the drug addicts and homeless scum he sorely looked down upon, he finally had it to his destination - the Four Queens.

It was 6 AM. A glimmer of sunlight broke over the mountains. The Wizard had a glimmer of hope to win big.

He saw a blackjack table - oddly nearly full with older people despite the strange hour - and sat down.

"I'm the best blackjack player in the world!" he asserted to the table.

"Can I see your ID please," the dealer nagged. Rebuffed and miffed that the dealer - nor the pit boss - recognized him, he slouched down, grabbed his wallet, and showed his ID.

The Wizard threw $1,000 on the felt of the $10 minimum table. The $1,000 was the lion's share of what had remained. A serious narcotics addiction and a recent DUI evaporated most of his savings. The Wizard wasn't depressed though - today was the day everything would change.

The Wizard kept careful count as the cards were thrown from the Dealer's hand. A 6. A 5. A K. "We're at +1," the Wizard thought to himself. But he soon found himself distracted.

He turned to the older man next to him. "Have I ever told you the story about how I saw a woman die in a casino? As I watched her last breaths, I thought - I might be able to save her. I might not. It was like playing God." The old man looked real disgusted at the Wizard, mostly glancing at his Halloween custome, and ignored him.

A couple of hands later, the Wizard still had a pretty good count. "Up to +5, time to stack these bitches." He laid down a $100 bet. As the dealer was dealing cards, he shouted to a guy opposite of the table - "You ever hear the story about how I ran a triathlon? These guys had Schwinns!" The older man gave a vague shake of his head, a combination of not fully understanding what the Wizard was talking about and disengaging from the conversation.

The Wizard looked down at his cards. A 6 and a 7. Against a dealer 6. "Um hit," he said distractedly. "You know, none of these guys want anything to do with me! It's like my kids on vacation, they don't want anything to do with me too!" The look of disgust and shock on the dealer's face surprised the Wizard. As she lay a ten down, he said "No I meant hold. Stay!! Stay!! Dammit!"

And so it continued. The Wizard pressed on, annoying everyone at the table with his stories about his acting career or a computer blowing up. And, like clockwork, he would lose count and end up making large bets when the true count was negative. Two and a half later, the table was nearly empty except for one brave soul, and the Wizard went broke.

That was it.

He was nearly destitute.

A huge knot tied his stomach. He wanted to explode. He took a deep breath, smiled, and politely said to the dealer, "Thank you for the time." The dealer, upset that he had not laid one toke, scowled as he left.

The Wizard needed to blow off some steam. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He had to do something.

He reached for his cellphone and called redacted. A nearly sobbing redacted answered the phone.

"Get your fucking ass to the warehouse right now."

-------

"The Warehouse," as it was called, is an empty industrial building several blocks from downtown Las Vegas, where the Wizard had parked earlier.

As redacted was bound by the feet and arms, and ball gagged to prevent his screaming, the Wizard cooly smoked a cigarette.

"Don't you fucking understand?" the Wizard said. He calmly blew smoke into redacted's scared face. "Don't you fucking get it? I'm the best fucking blackjack player in the fucking world! And those assholes BEAT me!"

At that moment the Wizard held the smoldering cigarette against the skin of redacted's chest. A faint sizzle sound could be heard as redacted did everything he could to squirm out of it and scream in pain. The cigarette left a dark mark, a mark matched by the fading scars of thousands of other cigarettes the Wizard had pressed against the redacted.

This was the Wizard, blowing off steam.

He unbuckled his belt.

"You fucking don't get it? These assholes fucking got all of my money. I have NOTHING!" He swung the belt, with the thick, heavy metal buckle slicing the right side of redacted's face.

Redacted was crying at this point. "I'm doing this for the drugs. I need the drugs. It's okay." Redacted took deep breaths to control himself. "In a few minutes I'll have the heroine, and everything will be ok." He braced as another buckle belt whipping sliced his outer thigh. "I can do this."

The deep breathing continued, but the pain was excruciating. Redacted wanted to leave. But there was no stopping the Wizard at this point. There was nothing to do but sit there and take it.

"Do you even fucking know how much an ace is worth in hi-lo? Do you even fucking keep a side count?" The Wizard deliver a hard kick to redacted's stomach. "You don't, do you? You probably fucking think you stay on 12 against a 2." Outraged at the last statement, the Wizard headbutted redacted in the face.

Suddenly, the Wizard's composure changed. He wasn't angry. He was calm, relieved. He felt good again. The Wizard reached into his wallet and threw two $10 bills on the floor. "Get yourself fucking cleaned up and get out of here, you sorry bitch." And the Wizard left the Warehouse, leaving redacted bound and gagged.

It was only noon. The Wizard knew what he had to do.

-------

The Wizard walked into the Bank of America branch. "I'd like to speak to the Branch Manager please," he told the teller. The teller smiled warmly and signaled the Branch Manager.

A young, clean-cut, well-dressed man came over and greeted The Wizard. "Hello, Wizard," he said warmly. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'd like to take out a third mortgage of my house," the Wizard said as they entered the Branch Manager's office.

THE END
TO BE CONTINUED

Quote: Admin

The name of the other character has been redacted per our rule against personal insults.

Quote: wizardfanfictionwriter

BY: AN ADORING FAN

I doubt it.

Well, I guess I laughed. So that's good.

Side note: I always laugh when people spell heroin, heroine. Just kinda funny.

I dig it man....I really dig it.I was excited when I first saw fanfic added to the site, but this has me REALLY excited. It's edgy, new, its got POP; what Vegas is all about. People think walking around Vegas dressed as a wizard is all fun and games, but they're wrong. The same people that think being the Wiz is easy are the same idiot people that go into a Monopoly game without a strategy. Can't wait fro the next installment.

This doesn't seem very complimentary to the Wizard. In fact, quite the opposite. It reads like anti-fan fiction.

It's also pretty badly written, and full of basic grammatical errors. D+, at best.

Who is "Rob Singer" or "JerryLogan", Alex.

Quote: ElectricDreams

Who is "Rob Singer", Alex.

That's funny you say that, I was just thinking it was actually Alex Trebek, still P.O.'d that wizard ripped off his gig!

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Wizard_of_Odds_(game_show)

Pretty amusing, but everyine knows the Wizard isnt a smoker.

Did I say amusing? I meant pretty weak. The uncomplementary tone distracted me from the parts I might have found funny.

Quote: Croupier

Pretty amusing, but everyine knows the Wizard isnt a smoker.

Also, he'd never wear a thick, heavy metal belt buckle with a purple robe.

Is this a joke? There's more? Good god..

Well, the quality of the writing is quite good. This is not unlike what the Bizarro-Wizard would be like.

Quote: Wizard

Well, the quality of the writing is quite good. This is not unlike what the Bizarro-Wizard would be like.

I didn't finish it. There were so many errors, like "The old man looked real disgusted at the Wizard". How do you look disgusted 'at' someone? This guy should listen to Hemingway, who said the first draft of anything is pure crap. Here's how Hemingway wrote. He'd write a couple pages, and the next day he would read the pages and rewrite them and change things. Then he would write a couple more pages. The next day he would start at the beginning and rewrite everything. He did this every day and as the book progressed, he would go back about 3 chapters for the rewrites. By the time he was done the book was lean, and concise, and pure Hemingway. He called this process 'breaking the back of a book'. Its extremely tedious and boring and takes an iron will, but look at the results. There have been lots of famous writers, but Hemingway's books are still selling almost as well today as they did 75 years ago. They will still be selling in 200 years, they're timeless.

Quote: EvenBob

I didn't finish it. There were so many errors, like "The old man looked real disgusted at the Wizard". How do you look disgusted 'at' someone? This guy should listen to Hemingway, who said the first draft of anything is pure crap. Here's how Hemingway wrote. He'd write a couple pages, and the next day he would read the pages and rewrite them and change things. Then he would write a couple more pages. The next day he would start at the beginning and rewrite everything. He did this every day and as the book progressed, he would go back about 3 chapters for the rewrites. By the time he was done the book was lean, and concise, and pure Hemingway. He called this process 'breaking the back of a book'. Its extremely tedious and boring and takes an iron will, but look at the results. There have been lots of famous writers, but Hemingway's books are still selling almost as well today as they did 75 years ago. They will still be selling in 200 years, they're timeless.

I'm not sure if the writer was going the Hemingway route with this. It's funny if you don't take it seriously. If you're wondering how accurate it is, you're not going to like it.

Maybe people need to relax a little.

Relax a little?

I easily overlooked the spelling and grammar errors.

But to pain the Wiz in such a bad light was very hard to overlook, until the Wiz chimed in with his own comment, calling the character "Bizarro-Wizard".

Quote: DJTeddyBear

Relax a little?

I easily overlooked the spelling and grammar errors.

But to pain the Wiz in such a bad light was very hard to overlook, until the Wiz chimed in with his own comment, calling the character "Bizarro-Wizard".

yes, I have to say the WoO is taking this quite lightly, as personally I would not want someone ribbing me about drug and gambling addiction etc, unless it was a close friend who had earned the privilege . Perhaps the WoO knows who the writer is?

PS: this is someone who has taken a lot of notes about the wizard, no doubt about that, so that was kind of funny

Quote: DJTeddyBear

Relax a little?

I easily overlooked the spelling and grammar errors.

But to pain the Wiz in such a bad light was very hard to overlook, until the Wiz chimed in with his own comment, calling the character "Bizarro-Wizard".

Bluejay on the other hand, is exploring legal action.

Shit If knew I could use their names I would have.

In my story The Foolproof Method For Robbing A Casino I used Mike Ford in place of Mike Shackleford and Jay Red instead of Michael Bluejay.

I don't know the wizard personally, but he seems like someone who takes his business seriously, and himself, not so much. I just can't imagine him giving it too much thought.

Quote: Ayecarumba

Bluejay on the other hand, is exploring legal action.

Like to make sure he gets royalties and such when the short stories become NY Times best sellers?