1 What Am I

This is the story of a man who couldn't stop taking. He took all night and all day, in church and in jail. He took things of his own and things of others. In the end, he took his life. But he never forgot the innocence that had been taken from him. It was past midnight, in a dank, musty casino drowning in hookers and booze and whores and food. He smiled, and his crooked teeth flashed under the bright lights and the bling. Around his neck dozed a gold chain necklace, and his ears had the kind of earrings that made it hard to tell they were even ears. He sported an unbuttoned white dress shirt, which exposed his oranged chest, high-quality black dress pants, and shoeless feet. His eyes darted around constantly, suspicious of everyone being like him. One hand drummed lazily on the poker table (a contrast to the fervor in his eyes), while the other flicked down a card with enough force to knock over his opponent's pile of chips. "Straight flush," He announced, carefully crafting his smile into one of triumphant glee. While the other bastards around him burst out in sounds that mostly resembled the roars of bears, the dealer eyed his hand and looked up at him, eyes narrowing. "You're quite a lucky one, aren't ya?" The dealer purred, waving over one of the Pleasure Girls nearby. She stalked over, eying her fresh prey. How she looked didn't matter so much as how she walked, so she whipped her hips around, stuck out her chest, and placed her hands just right to accentuate her butt and shrink her waist as she swayed over. She plastered on that plastic smile that made her want to scratch her skin off, and placed a finger on the man's back. He felt the long fingernail dig lustfully into his shoulder and froze. He did his best to avoid these witches, and he wouldn't fall into this trap either. His one moral high ground was his Golden Rule: Don't take sex from strangers, and don't take advantage of a girl. To him, this redeemed all his other sins, made him in some way better than most. As his eyes scanned the bodice of the woman, she sucked in her stomach, showing her shapely waist and meatless bones. "Oh, hello... Sorry, you don't appear to have a name tag anywhere...?" He began, ignoring her suggestive smile and devilish finger. The best way to handle her would be to throw her off, make her feel awkward, then slip off a shiny pearl necklace or a crystalline earring. "Oh—I'm Mary! Those in my profession don't usually need a name tag—" "If you're good, anyways!" He interrupted with a throaty laugh. Her eyes flashed, but her disdain for his lewd comment only lasted a second on her face. "Mary, eh?" He repeated after the silence. Average name, pause before revealing it; an alibi, of course. She couldn't very well give away her identity in a place like this. "And would Miss Mary like a drink... free of charge, of course?" He didn't plan to focus on her at all, but walking with her would provide good cover for snatching something. They walked arm in arm to the bar, and he pretended to be drunk as he swung his head around, assessing targets. There was a lady with some fine jewelry and a golden coin purse. There was a man with a briefcase and a hat pulled down over his face, likely selling candy to the kids. Finally, a man surrounded by scantily clad girls whose eyes revealed that they'd rather be dead as he gave his hands free range along their bodies. The man was of average height, with a handsome face and snake's eyes, glittering as they roamed across the young women's skin. His jawbone twitched in an arrogant, disgusting triumph. The thief grinned. He has his target. And that watch... that fine watch would fetch him a good price. If he distracted the man from those poor girls for even a second, all the better. He might be handsome, but harassment is harassment, and those girls barely looked old enough for what the man so clearly wanted. The thief began to walk in a drunken stupor, making a careful stumble towards his target. One slow step at a time, he got closer, until he was close enough until he was close enough to wrap his arm around one of those ladies and smirk at her. Mary followed behind him, barely hiding her disgust. He wrapped his other arm around her, pushed the two women forward, and as he stumbled past the pervert, he subtlety slipped his hand from around the second woman, hiding it behind her, and grasped the buckle of the watch, swiftly undoing it as he leaned over and, so fast that no one could see what happened, stuck a finger down his throat, triggering what looked to be an alcohol-induced puke. He hadn't avoided the man, in his fancy suit and fancy shoes, which now were covered in shiny throw-up. While his back was still sheltering him from the eyes of others, he clasped the watch to his wrist, rose, looked right into the other man's eyes, and wiped his mouth with the same hand, the golden buckle shining under the artificial lights. As he turned on his heel, letting go of Mary and flashing a triumphant smile, he realized something had changed. Instead of the people that had been there only seconds ago, the casino was now filled with various animals, mostly in the form of weasels, peacocks, rats, and bunnies. He felt something brushing his legs behind him, turned, and witnessed a raccoon tail sprouting from his backside. Surging with shocking adrenaline, he ran to the nearest bathroom, ignoring every creature he flew past, and threw himself in front of a mirror. Two black, beady raccoon eyes stared back at him.