“These are Rock Bottoms, These are Bloody Twos” Krystal Simmons – Third Place I. In 2017, Casa Diablo, a vegan strip club in Portland, was feeling pressure from the Feds to stop their marketing ploy of handing out blood stained two-dollar bills. The owner, Johnny Diablo Zukle, had been hand dyeing the edges in a “trade secret” manner as an ode to The Titty Twister, the vampire filled strip club from the film From Dusk Till Dawn. In many similar establishments, you, the patron, might stare at your ATM-crisp Benjamins and hesitate, as many do while holding larger denominations. Eventually, you would hand over your hard or easily earned big bills to be broken up into little pieces to rain over the gyrating bodies of post-pubescent women. One such lady steps into a glass box for all to watch as she furiously grabs at the air attempting to pocket as much as she can from this money tornado game. After the music stops, and all the excitement dissipates, the spectators move on to the next attraction. She’s only managed to bag $23. What if the small Washingtons had been two-dollar Jeffersons? She would have doubled her profit for the same effort. This is why the societies of undressed women would wise up and start handing out two-dollar bills in exchange for your big Franklins. After you cast the new droplets of currency that seem to suspend mid air over your preferred tiny dancer’s dry panties, she winks at you. Her wink sounds like whatever noise your phone makes when you get a bank notification. Especially when your deposit is from a paycheck in which half of the dollars were paid time off hours you cashed in. Creative Non-Fiction
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