Looming Disasters

I stopped by Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino recently. It's not that I enjoy the big guy's company, but almost every visit provides me with material for a column or two.

"Whatcha been up ta lately, Maxey?" he asked me.

"Well, I saw a fascinating movie the other day called The Day After Tomorrow," I replied.

"Yeah, what's it about? Anyone take dere clothes off?"

"No, no," I assured him. "This is a serious film. It shows what global warming could do to our planet."

Big Denny scratched his head. "Glow ball warmin'? What da hell's dat?"

"Well, as gases get trapped in the atmosphere, it's like a greenhouse. It causes temperatures on earth to rise."

"Where do dese gases come from?"

I felt like I was trying to teach the theory of relativity to a kindergarten class. "Lots of ways," I continued patiently. "From cows, smokestacks, forest fires, but mostly from auto emissions. It's funny. When Henry Ford invented the automobile, it was considered a blessing to mankind. Now his invention may help destroy mankind."

"Now I know where dat expression comes from," Big Denny beamed. "Da road ta hell is paved wit' good inventions."

I didn't bother correcting him, but I did jot down what he said. I was sure I could work it into a column somewhere. "Anyway," I continued, "the movie shows what this global warming could do. The glaciers melt, weather gets ferocious, the oceans rise and water floods inland, and cities get covered in ice."

"Wait a minute, Maxey. If da earth gets warmer, how could dat make ice?"

"Well, it's kind of complicated," I said, having no idea myself. "But it is true that ice caps are already melting, and flooding around the world is a very real possibility."

Big Denny looked nervously out the door, half expecting a huge wave to wash in. "What'll dat do to da Barstow Card Casino?"

"Hard to say. Depends on the extent of flooding. There's a chance the water might just come to the door, in which case you'd now have a waterfront casino."

Big Denny's eyes lit up like spotlights.

"I kin see it now," he grinned. "Big Denny's Marina Casina. Instead of all dese tightwad farmers on dere tractors, we'd have all dem rich guys in yachts comin' in."

"On the other hand, it's more likely the casino would just be washed away," I added, destroying his fantasy.

Big Denny turned somber. "Da casino might get washed away? Hey, I'd be outta business. What would I do for a livin' den?"

"You could always go back to stealing ladies' handbags," I started to say, but caught myself in time. "Well, you could always take out disaster insurance," I suggested.

"Is dat like da protection racket I used ta be in, Maxey? Ya buys our protection or we burns yer place down?"

"No, I mean legitimate insurance. Tell you what. My nephew Melvin is in the casualty business. Why don't I have him drop by and he can give you a quote."

I never did like Melvin much, the little twerp, so I figured I'd give him some grief by referring him to Big Denny. A week later, Melvin showed up, clipboard in hand, pens in his shirt pocket, briefcase at the ready.

"Now then, Mr. Denny," Melvin said briskly, "let us peruse the premises so I can present a proposal to prepare for any potential perils to your property."

"Whatever ya say, kid, let's go in," Big Denny answered. "Hey, watch yerself," he barked, as Melvin stumbled on a loose step and pitched forward.

"Hmm," hmmed Melvin, frowning and making a note on his clipboard.

They walked inside. Melvin was immediately startled by a strange clomping noise overhead. "What's that?" he asked in alarm.

"I rents da hayloft upstairs ta farmers," Denny explained logically. "Dat's where dey keeps dere sick cows."

Melvin noticed that bits of hay and an occasional gob of cow manure would fall through the ceiling boards from time to time. "Isn't that dangerous?" he queried.

"Dat's nuttin'," Big Denny chortled. "One time one of da cows fell troo da ceilin'. Fortunate-like, it only landed on a porter."

Melvin was not liking what he was seeing or hearing. He began roaming the casino. The men's room had a pipe leak and the floor was slippery as ice. The fire extinguishers had not been recharged in five years. The carpet was torn and snagged. The number of players exceeded the fire department limit. Melvin's clipboard was filling up fast as he came by to talk to Big Denny again.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and Melvin jumped eight feet in the air. "I don't believe it!" he stammered. "That dealer just shot a player."

"Serves him right," Big Denny declared. "We warned da bum about bendin' dose cards."

"I feel a little faint," Melvin said woozily, dropping his clipboard. "Could I have a cup of coffee or something?"

"Like ta help ya, boss, only except da Barstow health department shut down da food service after some of our customers come down wit' mad pig disease."

Hysteria overcame Melvin. He began waving his arms, yelling that all the money in the world couldn't pay the insurance premiums for Big Denny's deathtrap, and ran for the door.

"Hey, where ya goin', pal?" Big Denny called after him.

"To start some fires!" Melvin screamed. "The sooner global warming washes this … this … place away, the better!"

A couple of weeks later I ran into Big Denny again and offered my regrets that he couldn't obtain casualty insurance.

"Aw, dat's OK, Maxey. Wit' a lotta insurance on da place, I probably woulda ended up outta business."

"How's that?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well, ya knows me, Maxey," he grinned. "I mighta been tempted ta burn da joint down ta collect."