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Kirby and the Portal to Hell
- University of Nevada Press
- Chapter
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81 KirbyandthePortaltoHell When they discovered that the portal to Hell actually was in Las Vegas,nooneintownreallywasallthatsurprised.“Imean,”said alocalinonenewscast,“whereelsewoulditbe?Ijusthopeitdoesn’t hurtthehousingmarkettoomuch.”Andinfactitdidn’t.Afteryearsofa steadilydecliningeconomy,entireneighborhoodsgoingintoforeclosure, banksclosingleftandright,majorcasinoslayingoffanyonewhowasn’t lockedintoaunion,HellwasexactlywhatLasVegasneeded. Assoonastheportalwasdiscovered,behindavendingmachineat the dilapidated Silver Angel Motel, Gene Banks promptly bought the propertyandstartederectingInferno,aHell-themedcasinowiththeportal at its heart. Oh, it would be glorious, the papers boasted, showing sketches of the harpy uniforms the cocktail waitresses would wear on thefrontpageoftheSundayedition.Thehotelpromisedmorethanfive thousandnewjobs,aspectacularbuffet,andanopportunitytoviewthe portalitself.Assoonasitwasannounced,tourismexplodedonceagain. Emptyroomswerebooked,andpropertywasbeingclaimed.Hellwasthe answer.EveryoneinVegaswashappy. Kirbywasn’thappy. Kirbyhadbeentryingtohidetheportalforyears.He’dfounditwhile searchingforcoinstobuyacandybar.Kirbyalwayssearchedforcoins behindthisparticularvendingmachinebecausetherewasalwaysexact changebackthere.Ifheneededfifty centsforacandybar,hewouldfind it.Ifheneeded$1.25forsomechipsandacanofsoda,itwouldbewaiting .Kirbyhadlearnedinlifenottoquestionthings.Thingsoftenlefthim confused. Thenonedayhenoticedsomethingonthewall.Hewashuddledin BLISS ESPOSITO 82 ♥ B L I S S E S P O S I T O the corner unwrapping the 3 Musketeers he’d just bought. He liked 3 Musketeersbecausehecouldslidehisfinger insideandwiggleitaround inthecreamynougat.Butjustbeforehebrokethesealofchocolateon thebarwiththebroadtipofhisfinger,somethingelsecaughthisattention .Itwasonthewallbehindthevendingmachine,aboutchestlevel. Itwasthesizeofapin,andgavetheimpressionofblueandred.Most peopleprobablywouldhavemissedit,butKirbyknewthebackofthis machinelikethebackofhishand:thelinoleumturningupwithpotato chipedgesalongthewall,thebrownandyellowwaterstain,thefamily ofcockroachesthatwavedtheirantennasathimeverymorning. Andnowthisstrangedotrightinthemiddleofeverything. Hereachedouttotouchit,helikedtouchingthingswithhisfinger, butheknewsomehowthatnowwasnotthetime,andhepulledhisarm slowlyback. Kirby began spending the majority of his days hanging around the corridor staring at the slit of space between the wall and the vending machine, where the hole grew a little each day. Once in a while, the manageroftheSilverAngelwouldcomearoundandshoohimawaybut otherthanthatprettymuchlefthimalone.Kirbydidn’tcausetrouble liketheothersandneverkickedorpunchedthevendingmachinetoget somethingforfree. Then one day, after many months of gazing, he realized that the impressionofblueandred,swirlingtogetherlikeEastereggdyesbefore they mixed, had become actual colors. Suddenly he wanted to touch it,likenothingelsehehadevertouched.Pressingthesideofhishead againstthewallashardashecould,hecouldtellthattheholewasbigger ,maybebigenoughtogethisfinger into.Hehadtoseewhatthislack ofspace,concentrationofenergy,holeinthewall,feltlike. Helookedupanddownthemotelcorridor.Anicydesertbreezecut thewarmthofthemachine.Hejostledthevendingmachine,once,twice. Thenheslammedthesidewithallofhisninety-eightpounds.Hedidit again.Hejustneededaninchortwo.Hepushedandpusheduntilthe vendingmachinesquealedagainsttheconcretefloor.Hetriedhisarmto discoverthathehadenoughroomtoreachthehole. Kirbylickedhisdrylipsand...