Free Mind Scrambler by Chris Grabenstein

moved down to the second cluster of twelve numbers. “This, of course, is based on the fact that if you were to add up all these numbers, add one and two and all the numbers through thirty-six . . .”
    His hands passed right over the row with 22, 23, and 24. Moved into the final third of the board.
    â€œ. . . if you were to add ’em all up, they’d equal six hundred and sixty-six. Six-six-six. The so-called Number of the Beast for those of you who ever watched that devil movie
The Omen.
But I don’t believe in all that hooey. No, sir. I only believe in my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ and—your lucky number!”
    His hands hesitated. Reversed direction. Moved back up the board. Rock manipulated his fingers and magically produced the $50 chip, which he plunked down in the middle of the square numbered 22.
    The audience applauded!
    â€œIs twenty-two your lucky number?” Rock asked.
    â€œYes!” Cassie was squealing.
    â€œHold your horses, folks,” said Rock. “We’re just gettin’ started. Croupier? If you please?”
    The TV screen switched to another overhead shot—lookingdown directly at the roulette wheel as a pair of dainty female hands gave the wheel a good spin in one direction and sent a silver ball sliding in the other. The ball, which looked like it had escaped from a pinball machine, glided along on the tilted surface running around the outside of the spinning wheel. We watched the ball whiz. The wheel whirl.
    â€œNo more bets,” the croupier announced.
    The ball and wheel lost momentum.
    The big silver marble bounced down into the rolling number slots. It bounded in and out of a couple boxes. The wheel slowed down some more. The ball leapt up over the ridged edge of a box. Then another. Bounced again. Landed.
    It ended up in the pocket numbered 22.
    â€œTwenty-two wins,” announced the croupier.
    Inside the theater, the audience went wild! We had a winner.
    â€œWhat’s the payout?” asked Rock.
    â€œThirty-five to one,” said the croupier.
    â€œCongratulations, Cassie! You have just won one thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars!”
    The screen cut back to a wide-angle view of the whole high-roller room. The pit boss slid a stack of chips over to Rock. He pulled off the hood. Grinned at the camera. Scooped up his winnings.
    â€œCome on, Jim Bob! Let’s go take Cassie her jackpot! And this time, we’ll take the shortcut!”
    They made their way over to this pair of ceramic dragons on pedestals in front of a paneled wall. Rock bopped one of the dragons on the head, and the wall swung open! It was pretty cool. Like Batman and Robin opening that secret closet where they hid the bat poles in Wayne Manor.
    The audience was still cheering when a dozen spotlights swung across the stage and came to rest as a blazing circle at thebottom of the JumboTron TV screen. A hidden door swung open and, from inside the TV set, or so it seemed, out stepped Richard Rock and Jim Bob!
    Apparently, after all those left turns, the Ming Dynasty high-roller room was located somewhere behind the Shalimar’s stage.
    â€œYes, we could’ve gone out that way, too,” said Rock, “but what kind of fun would that’ve been? Thank you, Cassie!” He handed his volunteer the stack of chips. She nearly fainted. Dancers escorted her over to the steps. Mrs. Rock swung out an arm, kicked up a heel, and rolled the easel offstage.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen,” said Rock, “luck is what you have left over after you’ve already given one hundred and ten percent. Truth be told, we all make our own luck! So, boys and girls: study hard, listen to your teachers, just say no to drugs, and go be the winners I know you were meant to be! Jessica? Where are you, honey?”
    Mrs. Rock came running out onstage, her spangled dress working like a disco ball as she jiggled into place beside her handsome husband.
    She took