Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I’m definitely a yarn lover, but the machine also reminds me of my job, and then I think about the Todds, and then the church. Gambling is a sin. It’s linked to greed, a love of money, unhealthy competition, a pathway to other sins.
Guilt hangs over me like a dark cloud.
But it’s just a game. I’m not going to gamble away all my money, and I don’t particularly care if I win or lose. Is it still a sin if I treat it as a game, like playing Monopoly with friends?
Gambling may be a sin, but there are other things I’ve been choosing to do that the church most definitely disapproves of.
I take the offered seat. “Just one spin, I guess.”
Erik slides a bill into the machine. When I tell myself that because he’s the one who put the money in, that it’s not me who’s actually gambling, I realize all at once how ridiculous I’m being.
Of course, it’s hard to go against things I’ve been taught since childhood, but I can think for myself. In my heart, I don’t believe I’ll be judged by God for trying a slot machine.
Drinking liquor the other night didn’t make me crave more. I can play a slot machine without becoming addicted.
“What do I do?” I scan the screen, but there’s so much to take in. So many buttons, digital ones on the screen and real ones at the base of it, many of them flashing all at once.
He explains that I’m to select the number of lines to play and the amount of credits per line. It’s a penny machine, so one credit equals one penny.
“So, if I choose to play twenty lines, at ten credits each, my spin costs two dollars?”
Erik nods, and I recall that as we were walking, I saw one-dollar and even five-dollar machines, and my mind boggles at the thought of someone spinning away money that quickly.
“Pretty sneaky, labeling it a penny machine but having a two-dollar spin,” I say.
“Yep. There are all kinds of mind games at work in here, I’m sure.”
“Can I actually just bet a penny?”
“On some machines you can. On this one, the minimum spin is five lines.”
“I just want to do the minimum.” I press the appropriate buttons, and the reels on the screen spin for a second before coming to a stop one-by-one, left to right. Before we sat down, it was making a lot of exciting sounds, but now, nothing much is happening. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. Spin again.”
“I just wanted to try it once.”
“I only put five dollars in. I can afford to lose it if you don’t win.”
I press the “Repeat Bet” button, and the reels blur. This time when they stop, the machine makes upbeat noises.
“You won!” Erik’s hand comes to rest on my back as he looks over my shoulder.
I scan the screen and find the win: three credits. “I bet five credits and won three? How is that winning?”
His laugh is warm as his hand slides up to give my shoulder a soft squeeze. “More mind games at work. Casino gaming psychology must be fascinating.”
I’m shaking my head and rolling my eyes when he says, “Just spin through the rest of the credits. Bet bigger if you want it to go faster.”
I continue to play on the minimum bet, losing a few spins, winning similarly modest amounts. It seems like five dollars will last quite a while, so I gradually increase the bet, and I start to get a sense of why these machines are so popular.
It’s exciting wondering whether a spin will be a win or a loss, even if it’s debatable whether the wins are truly wins. The graphics are cute, especially when I trigger a bonus round, where I get to click on balls of yarn to reveal prize amounts.
“Good one!” Erik is standing right next to me, the side of his body pressed against mine as he pulls me close to celebrate my pick revealing five hundred credits. He smells so good, and I can feel the warmth of his skin through our clothing.
“Hey, we won your five dollars back.”
He points at the screen. “And you have three more picks left.”
“You pick.”
“I’ll do two.” His body presses even closer as he leans in to make his choices, revealing fifty credits, and then two hundred and fifty. “The last choice is yours.”
I miss the nearness of him as soon as he pulls back, but he keeps a hand on my shoulder as I debate the three remaining balls of yarn.
When I make my selection, the machine flashes and plays an electronic tune that sounds like a celebration. “Five thousand?” Excitement shimmers through me as I read the number aloud.
“Too bad it’s not five thousand dollars, but five thousand credits equals fifty, so that’s a big win on just five dollars!”