MSSR PLAZA by Mark Kamins

Another morning, another day, another scam, another grift.

I'm tired, so tired of playing the game.

It was Saturday night. I always hit the Plaza Hotel on Sat.night. In the old days I could rock,roll, run through Trader Vics, pick some pockets, sell a key to a Midwest salesman, thinking he's got the hooker of his dreams, upstairs.

Now I swing with the rocks. I got my boys in Africa, they dig for hours, fingers bleeding, they swallow the stones for me. I never knew that diamonds could smell like shit. But I learned that everything smells like shit. The Puerto Rican hooker I fucked last night ,smelled like shit, the Cuban ts freak , smelled like shit. Every Starbucks toilet smells like shit. That's cool, motherfucking white people pay long dollars for a shot of cheap java. What they don't know ,is Starbucks is the 5 star hotel for
every homeless tunnel dweller in town.

I heard the Oak Room was gonna open. It's been a long time.

I worked the Oak, when I was licking old lady's pussy's for the big dollars. I walked in, it wasn't the same. It looked like a fucking airport bar, a Gap shop, I don't know , it could have been a new Blimpie concept ! What do I know. I saw some old faces, Tony the Rat, Jimmy Two Times, Mikey Fish. I had to leave. I was sad. The Plaza meant something in the old days. Big Shots, I could take down the river, Has beens, wanna be's, gonna be's, it was all was good. There wasn't a night I didn't make 2 grand!!

Even if the night was slow, I had an 82year-old lady from Belgium , that paid me to finger her for hours.