Down To That Last Quarter

I could not stop playing four casino Quartermania machines in Vegas. Totally exasperated with me was my sixteen-year-old daughter, Mavis. At two a.m. I was dancing between them singing a song I made up. If anyone approached I gave them the stink eye and shook my coin cup. Mom, I am leaving! She finally said at a quarter until three. That was fine, okay, I threw her the keys. Quite all right by me. I was up in the win zone, I had made a hundred dollars or more. I was down to one quarter by ten minutes to four. I looked at that danged quarter, debating about what to do. I had not had wheels to return home since about three twenty-two. I finally decided on the phone call, but I was reluctant. I called husband Cleo. I asked in my sweetest, most charming voice, “Want to have breakfast at the Rio?”