I ordered a rum, even though everything about this place shouted scotch. From the candlelight to the antique staircase with wood accents, I knew this watering hole all too well.

I taste the salt on my lips as my transport gets us closer to the shore. I pause for a moment to wonder if it's the backsplash of the ocean or the sweat from my brow. Either way, I know we are the allied powers' last hope.

I shuffle back to my room after losing this month's rent to a cocktail of everything the casino had to offer. My shoulder holster keeps me company as I search my pockets for the key. That's funny. I don't remember leaving the door unlocked.

9:17pm-The initial intake was well received. My palate welcomed the multitude of flavors. After having not ate for nearly 11 hours my body yearned for maximum calories. I was grateful to Ronald McDonald and the nourishment that his facility was able to provide.

The morning dawns a new day and a new bottle. I drink the liquid self-help that no doctor would prescribe praying for salvation. It doesn’t come. Maybe something stronger will help.

“There was a legend. A legend of a tiger that would sneak into the prairie and kill the shepherd’s sheep. The shepherd became weary for he searched for the tiger and could find no evidence of his existence…”