The Phantom of the Barstow Card Casino

"Hey, Denny," I said, having fun with the big guy. "You seem a little pale today. Did Windy Waggy drop by?"

Big Denny flinched. "Dat dame what tried ta take over da joint? I left orders ta shoot her if she ever shows up again. Nah, somet'in' else is buggin' me. Ya ever hears of a movie called Da Phantom of da Oprah?"

"That's 'opera,' Denny. Sure, is it playing here?"

"Ya kiddin' me, Maxey? Da only movies dey ever shows in Barstow is Hopalong Cassidy. What does ya know about dat phantom one?"

"Well," I said, "it's based on a play from the 1800s. It's about an opera house in Paris haunted by a phantom who lives deep underground and causes all kinds of mischief. He has a thing for a singer. He teaches her and leaves notes demanding that she gets the lead roles. When she doesn't return his love, he goes nuts and kills people and drops a big chandelier on people's heads."

Big Denny turned several shades paler and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Somet'in' like dat's been happenin' here lately, Maxey. Did ya know dis place used ta be a opra house?"

"Opera house? I thought it used to be a barn."

"It still is, upstairs anyways," Big Denny explained. "But on Sattiday nights dey used ta chase out da cows an' have opras like … like … ya knows, Madame Buttermilk. Dere's a lotta tunnels an' catty combs an' stuff under dis place, an' I t'ink we might have a phantom down dere too."

"Sounds pretty spooky, Denny. What makes you think you have a phantom?"

"Well, Fingers Finnegan, our chef, says dat food keeps disappearin' from da kitchen. A lot of it's good stuff, too, less den four days old. An' we been findin' crazy notes tellin' us we better make Aunt Sophie da lead singer in our lounge act."

"Aunt Sophie? The world's oldest cocktail waitress? I didn't know she sang," I said.

"She can't, but nobody's ever told her," Denny shrugged. "Lately she's been walkin' around tryin' ta sing an' scarin' off all our customers. Says she has dis mysterious boyfriend who's been givin' her lessons. An' some times we hear singin' comin' from someplace below. It's gettin' so scary that … listen, ya kin hear it now."

I had heard something, but I thought it was timbers creaking in the old barn/casino. Putting my ear to the floor to hear better, I could detect a raspy voice trying to sound musical:

"I wisht I was in Dixie, hooray, hooray, I wisht I was in Dixie … "

"What the hell kind of a phantom do you have who sings Confederate Army battle songs, Denny? You better talk to Aunt Sophie and ask her what's going on."

As we approached the ancient creature, we saw she was crooning to one of the poker players:

"The phantom is my lover, so you'd better tip me right. The last shlemeil who stiffed me, disappeared the other night."

The player threw a $5 bill on her tray and ran off screaming.

"OK, Sophie," Big Denny scowled, "how's about ya tells me what dis is all about. Who's dis phantom mug, anyways?"

"Dollink, how should I know?" Aunt Sophie replied. "A meshugah mask he's always wearing. One day in my dressing room he showed up. He said he loved me and a famous singer he would make me, providing my tips I share with him."

"Have you ever seen where he lives?" I asked.

"One time a leak he had in his toilet, and a plumber he had me bring down. A two-bedroom bachelor pad inside a cave he's got. Nice place, if you like bats. But his bed sheets, to me it looks like he never washes them," she sniffed in disapproval.

I asked Aunt Sophie if she would take us down there.

"Sure, boychick. On TV tonight there's nothing to watch anyway."

"Hold it!" Big Denny yelled. "I ain't goin' down to no phantom place."

"Come on, you big baby," I said, grabbing his arm. "Let's get to the bottom of this. How do we get there, Aunt Sophie?"

"Two ways we got. One way is down a ladder to get to a tunnel. Then we walk through the tunnel, which is full of rats and bats and spiders. From there a pond we have to walk through which has sewage and crocodiles. And then a cave with snakes we crawl through to get to his apartment."

"And the other way?" I asked.

"We can take the elevator."

We decided to pass up the scenic route and took the elevator. At last we reached the lair of the phantom, third cave to the left off the lobby entrance. I noticed from the mailboxes that Eskimo Clark had the unit next to his. It was dark and gloomy and spooky as hell. Big Denny was shaking so hard, I was afraid the tunnel would collapse.

"Boo!" Suddenly a creature in a cape and mask jumped out of the shadows and glared at us, cold as death. Big Denny fainted dead away, but I wasn't fooled. One look at that scrawny figure wearing a T-shirt that read, "The South Will Rise Again," and I immediately knew that the phantom was … Filthy Willy.

"Willy!" I yelled at him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I needed a place ta stay after my grandson Wally found hisself another girlfriend an' threw me out, an' the rent's real cheap here. I wasn't botherin' nobody till I saw Aunt Sophie an' fell in love an' decided ta make her a star."

After Big Denny regained consciousness, a deal was negotiated. Aunt Sophie would be allowed to sing the hit number in the lounge show if Filthy Willy promised not to cause any more trouble.

That night, the big moment arrived. The featured band, the Barstow Bugle and Drum Corps, introduced Aunt Sophie. A lone spotlight picked her out as she came onstage, and with all her heart, she began singing the big show-stopping song:

"How much is that doggie in the window, the one with … "

She was greeted first with stunned silence, then a chorus of boos, and then a rain of cards, pennies, and tomatoes.

Filthy Willy went into a rage. "I'll show you varmints," he vowed. He climbed the ladder to the hayloft and began shooting off his Civil War horse pistol. The terrified cattle stampeded, sending a torrent of hay and manure down onto the patrons below.

In the confusion, Willy swept onto the stage and wrapped his cape around Aunt Sophie. "Come away with your phantom," he called to her.

"Get lost, you putz," she replied.

Willy the phantom tore off his mask, revealing, to everyone's horror, a hideous case of acne, and then he fled into the night.

It took an hour to calm the stampeding cows, and a week to clean up the shambles. Things are more or less back to normal at the Barstow Card Casino now. Hopefully, they'll stay that way for a while – providing nobody asks Aunt Sophie to perform another aria.