You want to know how Las Vegas came to be? Pull up a chair, ante up, and let me deal you the truth.

First, I looked out at that desert: hot, dry, empty. God left it blank, like He was too tired to finish the painting. That’s when I knew: this was my table. All it needed was a little shuffle, a little spin, a little flash.

I stacked the deck with neon and poured whiskey down its throat. I lured in a few gangsters (they’re always easy marks) and whispered, “Build it bigger, make it louder.”

Before long, the sand was covered in palaces of chance and opulence: roulette wheels spinning like suns, dice tumbling like planets, cards fluttering like prayers never answered.

The best part: I didn’t even have to cheat. Humans did it all themselves. They begged me for more tables, more slots, more sex, more decadence, more lights that never turn off. I just kept raising the stakes.

And when they lose their shirts, their homes, their souls, that’s the river card I was waiting on. Vegas isn’t just a city, sweetheart. It’s my royal flush.

So go ahead, place your bets. The house always wins.

And darling, I am the house.