Las Vegas, Nevada; July 28, 2007; 8:40 P.M.

After my pow-wow with Ten Bears, I rode my horse back to the Vette. Then I “transported” Spirit back to Camelot and adjusted the time-travel module to Las Vegas, NEVADA. I finally arrived at the Excalibur Hotel & Casino, located on the famous “Strip” in fabulous Las Vegas.

I checked into a room. Dirty from all of the trail dust that I had picked up out in the desert, I really needed to take a long shower.

After I got cleaned up, I stopped at one of the Excalibur Hotel & Casino’s dinner buffets to choke down some food. Then I headed straight for the casino.

Willie had taught me some of the basics of blackjack. I looked for a “21” table with an available seat. The casino was crowded, but it only took a few seconds to find an open spot at a “five-dollar” (minimum bet) table. The table’s maximum betting limit was a thousand dollars per hand. I quickly sat down in the far-left seat, called “third base.”

After I took off my helmet and placed it on the floor, right behind my chair, I looked around the table. The blackjack dealer had an identification badge pinned on her light-blue shirt. The tag read “Hello! My name is Whoopi.” As I handed her a fifty-dollar bill to purchase some chips, I asked, “Are you Whoopi Goldberg, the famous comedian?”

“Yes, twice a week, though, I moonlight as a blackjack dealer.” She handed me ten red ($5.00) chips and said, “The minimum bet at this table is five dollars.”

Jay Leno, host of the Tonight Show, happened to be sitting next to me. In fact, after closer observation, I noticed four other high-profile TV personalities at the table. David Letterman, host of The David Letterman Show, sat just to the right of Jay. Bill O’Reilly, host of Fox News Channel’s The O’Reilly Factor, sat next to David Letterman. Joy Behar, co-host of ABC’s The View, sat next to Bill O’Reilly. And Dr. Phil McGraw, host of The Dr. Phil Show, sat directly across the table from me at “first base.” I was very excited to be in the midst of such prominent company.

Everybody at the table placed their bets. I glanced over and noticed that Jay had several stacks of black chips and a few piles of green casino tokens (chips) lying in front of him. He had two black ($100) chips and two green ($25) tokes (as “tokens” are more commonly called) placed in the betting circle; the green chips were stacked on top of the black tokes. Jay’s total bet was $250. I scooted one red chip out as my five-dollar bet.

Whoopi dealt the cards out of a little clear-plastic contraption called a “card-shoe,” which was sitting off to her far left. I was dealt an eight of spades and an eight of diamonds; both cards were face up on the table. Jay’s hand revealed a two of clubs and a five of clubs. Whoopi’s “up-card” was a four of hearts.

Jay appeared relaxed, and he was minding his own business. He puffed on some kind of a big, brownish cigarette. In a friendly gesture, I slid an ashtray toward Jay.

I said, “Sir Jay, you’re certainly welcome to share this ashtray. Where did you get that giant-size cigarette? And why is the wrapper brown, instead of white?”

Jay cackled a little. Then he asked, “Who are you? And where are you from? Haven’t you ever seen a cigar?”

“No! I just smoke Tomarlburys. What brand of cigar is that?”

“This cigar or stogie is called an ‘El Non-producto.’ I switch back and forth between El Non-productos and ‘Black Owls,’ depending on my preference at the time. As you’re decked out in that fancy suit of armor, it looks as if you’re right at home here at the Excalibur Hotel. What’s your name young man?”

“Sir Wantsalittle Morefromlife . . . but you can call me Wantsalittle. Indeed, the decor and atmosphere in this casino does remind me of being at home in Camelot, but that’s another story. This is my first time in Las Vegas. I’m here on a vacation of sorts and to do some soul-searching.”

Joy Behar abruptly turned her head toward me and said, “Mister, did I just here you say that you are here on a vacation from Camelot?”

I replied, “Yes! Well, I don’t know if ‘vacation’ is the right word to describe why I’m here. This is what happened: I recently found a time-travel remote device in Camelot. I simply returned it, personally, to its original owner, Willie C. Light, who lives in Holly—”

Joy broke in, “Say, Mr. Wantalittlemore or whoever you said you are, you remind me of someone that I’ve seen on television. Aren’t you what’s his face from One Tree Hill . . . Chad Michael Murray?”

“No, but I’ve been told that there is a striking resemblance.”

With a dumbfounded expression on her face, Joy replied, “If you’re not Chad Michael Murray, you could be his identical twin. I wish you would take off the rest of that full suit of armor and let me get a better look at you. At least you had the courtesy to remove your helmet when you sat down. Your manly facial features and your short, unkempt, dark-blond hair do remind me of Chad Michael Murray. Anyway, if you are serious about being from Camelot, and that you’re here by way of some time machine, what a story I’ve got to tell my friends and co-hosts on The View. Elizabeth (Hasselbeck) and Barbara (Walters) and the rest of our crew are not going to believe it! Will you come to our TV studio at ABC in New York and be a very special guest on our morning show?”

“Maybe sometime, later. First, I’m going to continue my journey into time, a quest of sorts, to become more enlightened and noble. I want to feel and act like a king.”

Dr. Phil suddenly stood up, raised his hands high over his head, and shouted, “Hey buddy, I have as good a sense of humor as the next person. But I think that you need some serious therapy. You’re a pretty good actor, young man. You’ve almost got everyone here at the table believing that you really are from Camelot. I think that you had better make an appointment to come and be a guest on my Dr. Phil Show. I would like to diagnose you and treat you for what’s obviously ailing you!”

“Whatever you say, Doc. But—”

Bill O’Reilly interrupted me and said, “Hey, pal, you’ve got to make an appearance on my show, The O’Reilly Factor, first. The folks have got to know about you, especially if you are not a far-left-wing liberal, which I’m very much afraid that you are! Anyway, when you sit down across from me on the show, you’ve got to understand that there will be no bloviating (slang for “running off at the mouth”)—that’s my job. And you have to remember that ‘the spin stops here,’ okay?”

“Sir Bill, what’s a ‘far-left-wing liberal’? And what in the hell does ‘bloviating’ mean? Finally, what ‘spin’ are you talking about?”

“Wantsalittle, never mind! I’ll explain all that to you on the show. I think that we’ll put you on during our daily segment called ‘the most ridiculous item of the day.’”

“Okay, but I don’t readily admit that there’s anything ‘ridiculous’ about me! In a few weeks, after I finish my travels through time, I’ll call your show and accept your gracious invitation.”

Then David Letterman quipped, “I’ve had some most interesting guests over the years on my Late Show with David Letterman. But something tells me that you are going to move to the head of the ‘interesting’ class! I can’t wait to come up with the list of the top ten reasons why Sir Wantsalittle wants more from life!”

Everybody at the blackjack table roared in laughter, then Jay Leno said. “I’m really not a gambler. The others at this table aren’t gamblers, either. I come out to Vegas, occasionally, to relax and to get away from my hectic working environment. Right now, many of my celebrity friends and colleagues and I are here in Vegas for the annual ‘talk-show hosts’ convention. Tell me, Wantsalittle, are you married or do you have any children?”

“No, I had a girl friend some time back, but our relationship really didn’t last that long. Her name was Lady Expectsalot. And she more than lived up to her name!”

Jay chuckled and said, “Well, with those bright-blue eyes and that short, scruffy, dark-blond hair and that burly, manly appearance, you shouldn’t have any trouble attracting the ladies.”

Whoopi interrupted and asked Jay, “With your two cards, you have a total of ‘seven.’ Do you want another card to go with your two and five of clubs?”

“Hit me—HIT ME HARD!” Jay eagerly exclaimed.

Then I reached over and . . . whack . . . whack . . . whack! I knocked Jay out with my big fat war club. Jay saw stars, but not of the Hollywood variety! His head hit the table, his chips scattered, and his long, thick El Non-producto folded like an accordion.

The entire butt end of the smashed, twisted stogie was crammed so deep into Jay’s mouth and throat that it could have tickled his tonsils. The lit portion of the crumpled cigar stuck out from under Jay’s bruised chin; smoldering ashes sizzled in the drool, where he had slobbered on the forest-green, felt-top table.

Apologetically, I said, “I’m sorry, Jay. Old habits are hard to break!”

I couldn’t believe that I did that, especially after God had given me a lecture about my aggressive tendencies. My hostile action was a far cry from virtuous, kinglike behavior on my part. Jay should’ve just picked up his “clubs” and crowned me!

With an obvious look of displeasure on her face, Whoopi interjected, “Hey, Sir Lancelot, or whoever you think that you are. He just wanted another card! If you can’t control yourself and behave in a respectable manner, I’ll have to notify the security people. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Yes—I’m really very sorry! It won’t happen again!” Whoopi cleaned up the mess on the blackjack table and collected herself.

Jay scooted his chair to his right a few inches to get farther away from me. He was rubbing the big knot, which had protruded from his forehead, when a cocktail waitress stopped to offer him assistance. She gave him a courtesy drink on the house. Then she put a big Band-Aid® on his lumpy head wound.

Meanwhile, all of the other players all had fresh drinks and neatly stacked piles of chips in front of them. A couple of ashtrays were filled to the brim with cigar ashes and butts. Whoopi was now ready to deal to me. I still had that pair of eights in front of me, lying face up on the felt.

Whoopi tried to coach me. She said, “You should always split a pair of eights.”

I appreciated the helpful dealer’s good advice. I quipped, “Okay, I’ll try to SPLIT ’EM!” . . . W-H-A-C-K! I had stood up in front of my spot at the table and smashed my sharp ax directly through the pair of eights, splitting both cards in the process. The head of the ax stuck in the top of the table. Cards, chips, ashes, and butts went airborne. Every plastic cup and glass on the printed-felt gaming surface got knocked over, spilling coke, beer, and a couple of mixed drinks. All in all, it was a real ugly scene!

After she pulled a couple of chips and a cigar butt out of her dark, braided hair, Whoopi threw her hands up, in disgust. Then she waved a little white bar towel over her head. Whoopi exclaimed, “I give up!” Everyone at the blackjack table had big frowns on their faces.

Totally perplexed by the incident, Whoopi softly added, in a monotone voice, “And I thought that I’d seen it all.”

“Excuse me,” I said, “I’ve got to go to the restroom. Whoopi, will you please watch my chips and save my seat?”

“Do you mean to say that you’re coming back?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I strolled into the men’s room. I didn’t have to pee; I simply wanted to talk with God. I leaned back against the bathroom sink and asked, “Lord, how can I learn to control my sometimes combative behavior and still move confidently in the direction of my dreams?”

God energized right in front me. She said, “Wantsalittle, I mentally picked up on your smacking Jay Leno and on your splitting that pair of eights with your AX! For the third time, what do you intend to do about your overly aggressive ways? You probably just ‘axed’ any chance that Jay Leno or the other TV hosts would still invite you to appear as a guest on their talk shows! Wantsalittle, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you!”

The Lord was really upset with me. I thought that She would be. I wasn’t too thrilled with myself, either. “God, this is going to be harder than I thought. Can You give me some good advice?”

“In your case, maybe! Wantsalittle, it’s a good thing for you that I have a good sense of humor! . . . Sometimes people get confused between ‘aggressiveness’ and ‘assertiveness’—two distinctly different emotional conditions and behaviors. To aggress signifies an unprovoked attack or a first act of hostility. Wantsalittle, of all people, you should understand that! Aggressiveness is a negative emotional response. To assert means to declare or to act in a self-confident manner. Assertiveness is a positive emotional response.”

“Do you mean that, even though I’m aggressive, I might not be assertive enough?”

“That’s right! Many aggressive or hostile people aren’t assertive enough. Those who possess a passive, apathetic nature should place an ax dead center on their being overly timid and shy. Wantsalittle, in some ways you fall into this category. Try to assert yourself IN A NON-HOSTILE FASHION! Do something constructive. Write down your personal goals. Initiate action to achieve them. Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can get up and do today. Get creative. Make something happen. . . . In other words, poop or pull up your pants!”

The Lord paused for a moment to laugh at Her last remark. Then She added, “Wantsalittle, do something with your good ideas. Victor Hugo once proclaimed, ‘Nothing in the world is so powerful as an idea whose time has come.’ Set your thoughts into motion. Turn them into inspiring products or services. Try to accomplish something that will allow you to leave your artistic mark on the world.”

“God, I’m going to do the best that I can to start practicing what You preach.”

“I hope that you do! Before I go, I’d like you to keep one more thing in mind: As you think and act with the attitude of assertiveness, you will become more assertive. Don’t let life pass you by—by being caught up in the traffic of ‘Someday, I’ll.’ Instead, shove your aspirations into the ‘Today, I’ll’ gear. If you do, you’ll catch up with your dreams!”

The Lord left, and I strolled back to the blackjack table. Along the way, I picked up a foot-long piece of rope that someone, evidently, had dropped on the carpet. I handed Jay the rope. I asked him, “Would you please tie my hands behind my back?”

“You’ve got to be the wackiest knight from Camelot!” Jay shouted. But he gladly complied with my instructions. “I’m going to have to have you on my Tonight Show one of these days. People all across America would ‘split a gut’ and get a real ‘bang’ out of you!”

The table had been cleaned, and everything was back to normal. Jay placed his next bet. Then he helped me make a wager. Jay pushed a stack of ten red chips in my betting circle.

Whoopi glared at me. She was still a little angry after everything that I had done. Then she turned to the pit boss and said, “Checks play!” (An expression that a dealer often uses to inform his or her supervisor that a player has placed a larger bet.)

Whoopi dealt the next round of cards. She gave herself a nine of spades as her up-card. I was dealt an ace of spades and a jack of hearts. (Right after the initial deal, any two-card combination of a face card and an ace is called a “natural,” a “snapper,” or a “blackjack,” which pays three chips for every two chips wagered.) I had just won seventy-five dollars for my fifty-dollar bet!

Now I beamed with joy. As my hands were still tied behind me, I was unable to otherwise react. I said, “Thanks, Sir Jay and Lady Whoopi! I think that I’m beginning to ‘see the light.’ Whatever it takes, I’m going to stop being so aggressive and redirect my wasted energy into more constructive thoughts and actions!”

(The moral of this episode: Replace your aggressive behavior with more assertive, socially acceptable actions!)

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