Gates woke up after getting his gold tooth knocked out by Charon and found himself inside the truck. His mouth was in pain and a bit swollen. Just one more injury to add to the rest of his cuts and bruises. Gates had seen his life flash before him. It had not been a good life up to that point, but he had big plans for a happy ending. He'd been knocked out for an hour. He'd slept like a baby. Best sleep he'd had in months, without narcotics. It's amazing what a blow to the head could do to improve one's sleep.

Gates found Charon and Manny sitting on the tailgate of the truck. They were drinking beer and Tequila and eating the rest of the Spicy California Rolls Manny had bought at the Vegas Sushi Restaurant. Gates watched Manny and Charon shooting the breeze, laughing it up, carrying on like two peas in a pod. Two brothers. Having no family of his own, Gates felt the chill of being alone in the world. At least he had his Cadillac.

Despite being brothers, Gates saw how different Manny and Charon were. Manny was mister smooth—clean cut, perfect hair, a toothy smile. He could have run for president. He was plastic. On the other hand, Charon—with his hard disposition, his maniacal laugh, his resting scowl—was as pleasant as thorn. Gates knew there was no lie with Charon. What you saw, was what you got. Charon knew it. He knew what he was. He knew he was real, and the real was ugly. Charon knew his realness offended people. It scared them like a monster in the dark, like bandit in an alley. THE REAL scared because it reminded people of what they hid inside, their own ugliness.

The beautiful people could hide their ugliness with their magnificence, but Charon couldn't. He could not fool anyone. He didn't even try. Instead, he wore his ugliness like badge of honor. It only made him stronger. Charon knew he was not one of the beautiful people of the world, so he never expected anything. What he got, he got on his own, with his own hands, by breaking his back. There were no fairies to grant Charon three wishes. His life was not that kind of story.

* * *

Charon and Manny had put Gates inside the truck to sleep it off. They didn't want to arouse suspicion by having his body lying on the street like a homicide victim. Gates honked the horn, and the two men looked back at him. Charon raised his tiny bottle of Tequila and said,"You ready, amigo?"

Gates was ready. Ready to get his Cadillac back. He figured, the hard part must be over, and it had only cost him a gold tooth—a small price to pay.

"So what's the plan? You gonna drive in on your truck?" said Gates.

Charon laughed. "You wish it was that easy. But LIFE ain't so easy. Not for most of us anyway. Some people get the silver spoon, but the rest of us, we have to swim in a toilet."

"We're going to swim in a toilet?" said Gates.

"Follow me," said Charon.

Charon got a crow bar and walked to the middle of the street. Gates and Manny followed curiously.

"Las Vegas is like an animal. It eats. It fucks. It shits. And all that shit has to go somewhere," said Charon. He took the crowbar and pried the manhole cover off. A hot white smoke rose out of the blackness. A foulness of filth and shit escaped in a hot suffocating heat. Manny and Gates immediately fell to the ground. They writhed in agony and rolled in torture. A bullet to their heads would have been merciful. Their eyes bulged. Their faces went from crimson to blue. They searched for air but there was none, only the stench of a filth. Manny and Gates felt their souls being ripped from them. All the while, Charon stood over them and laughed like a madman.

"Smell that shit! Smells good don't it? Welcome to my world," said Charon.

Manny and Gates got up, stumbling. Holding their noses, they ran away to get air. They were dizzy and confused. They could not see. The sun was gone. Everything was darkness. The cool air finally hit them in the face and hey inhaled with gluttony and desperation. With each breath, they felt life returning to them. The darkness began to dissipate, like a cloud of ravens scattering away to reveal the light.

"There are underground sewer tunnels all over Las Vegas," said Charon, walking towards Manny and Gates. "I'm a sewer inspector. My job is to walk the tunnels. To make sure all the shit flows smoothly. This is how you're going to get into the Singrin, amigo."

Charon handed Gates and Manny towels. They covered up like a couple of cowboy bandits. Charon wore no mask or towel. The horrid smell didn't bother him. Instead, it made him more alive. Gates and Manny walked up to the manhole, holding the towels over their faces. They looked into the black steaming abyss with curiosity and wonder. There was nothing but a blackness that lead...somewhere. Where did it go? What was down there? How deep was the hole?

"You got a lighter, Manny?" said Gates. Manny handed Gates his pink lighter with a picture of Sunny Bunny, and Gates made a questioning look.

"Pink?"

"That's Sunny Bunny," said Manny.

"Who?" said Gates.

"Sunny Bunny...She's all over the news. Don't you know, Who's Sunny Bunny?"

"Never heard of her," said Gates. He started to light the lighter when Charon hit the lighter out of his hand.

"Are you crazy, loco, you're gonna kill us! That's sewer gas! It will blow us to kingdom come!" said Charon. He turned on the light on his hardhat. He shined it down into the black hole, but even with the light, Gates and Manny saw nothing.

"Okay vámonos," said Charon, telling Gates to get a move on.

"Wait, we're going down there?" said Gates.

"This is the way to Wonderland, amigo, just follow the white rabbit," said Charon. He disappeared into the hole with a shovel strapped to his back. Gates handed Manny back his lighter.

"This is as far as I go, Mr. Gates," said Manny.

"I owe you one, Manny," said Gates.

"You owe me more than one, Mr. Gates. I'll put it on your tab," said Manny.

"Glad you're keeping score," said Gates.

"Mr. Gates, just in case, maybe you should pray to Elvis again. Where you're going, I think you're going to need him," said Manny.

Gates looked up to the blue sky and gave the King a nod.

"Keep an eye out for those street demons, Manny, they're everywhere."

"I will. I got my gun."

Gates put the towel over his face and disappeared into the abyss of stench after Charon.

* * *

What Gates followed Charon into was nothing short of hell. An enclave into Dante's Inferno. Gates was like Heracles going into Hades. The underworld was a hot abyss, dark as a tomb, and had the stench of a thousand corpses. Everywhere was filth, piles of it. Every step was like walking in mud. There were flies buzzing and swarming. Rats the size of cats. Gates saw the walls moving. They were covered with maggots and roaches. The eerie tunnels looked like mine shafts. Lit by flickering bulbs hanging from wires. The walls, once red brick, were now brown and crumbling. There was a narrow path, just wide enough for one man, that went alongside a river of filth and garbage, that appeared to flow for miles and miles.

The two men stood speechless and in awe. For one, it was the first time. For the other, it was one of thousands. There was a grandeur to the underworld that no matter how many times seen, a man always stood in awe.

"Holy king!" said Gates. "What the hell is this?"

"Welcome to Shitland, amigo," said Charon.

Shitland...the ugly side of life. The world of problems forgotten and things discarded, maybe even an alligator or two. Out of sight, out of mind. Flush it down and make it disappear. It's how the world operated. All the garbage and filth ended up in Shitland and someone had to deal with it; and that someone was Charon, who kept thing flowing smoothly.

"Is this real?"

"It's the real deal. Not as pretty as Hollywood, but smells the same," said Charon, chuckling. "Thanks, I'll be here a week."

There was very little air for Gates. All he had was a towel to cover his face. It did nothing for him. He gagged and heaved. The smell got worse and worse. He began to cough. Charon had no problems. Gates wondered if he was even human. There was no way a mortal man could last long in Shitland. It was for the dead, the discarded, and forgotten. Shitland felt like a dream. Gates continued to wonder if it was really Real? Real or not, Charon waved him to follow. He did the best he could to stay on the narrow path. He didn't want to flal into the dark water that was as think as oil.

When Charon's head lamp hit the water, Gates reeled back in disgust from the all the filth he saw. He fell in a corner, suffocating. Charon picked him up and pushed him into an air pocket. Gates felt the oxygen and sucked it desperately. He felt better for a moment. Charon asked him if he wanted to continue. Despite the agony, Gates nodded there was no turning back.

So they went on. Charon and Gates walked through the darkness of the dungeon maze. Every so often Charon would find a clog in the river and dislodge it with his shovel. When they came upon several large white masses floating in the water, Gates asked what they were.

"Fat-bergs. Like an iceberg but made from fat. They're the worse. All the grease collects and turns into large sticky globs of fat that clog everything," said Charon.

Charon went to work, fighting hard to dislodge man-sized globs of fat. Gates jumped in to help. Together they opened up the stream, pulling several heavy boulders of sticky fat out of the water. Charon then threw some powder on the fat-bergs and, like salt on a slug, the fat began dissolve.

"Any Alligators down here?" said Gates.

"Never seen one but lots of snakes, goldfish, and dead hamsters." The worst was a guy some old lady cut up. She flushed him down piece by piece. People think the toilet is magic. Just press the lever and the mess is gone forever," said Charon."

"What kind of fish are those?" said Gates. He pointed to a school of bobbing white creatures floating off in the distance. Charon flashed his light at them, and there appeared to be hundreds if not thousands of them. Charon laughed demoniacally.

"Those are condoms. They float down here by the thousands," said Charon. "That's probably the only thing that grosses me out. Especially when I have to pull them out with a net."

"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas," said Gates.

* * *

Charon and Gates reached an area that had several large drain pipes emptying sewage into a cesspool. The place looked on giant toilet. A nasty one.

"There," said Charon.

"Where's the manhole?" said Gates.

"No tunnel, amigo, the water. You go in and if your survive...you come out in the Singrin," said Charon.

"You're kidding me," said Gates.

The cesspool reeked of rotting eggs and death. Gates gagged, unable to get the smell out of his system. The cesspool was full of garbage and filth and a thick layer of slime coated the surface. Gates writhed in disgust.

"This day just keeps getting better. You're telling me there's no other way?" said Gates.

"Sure, the front door. Go knock and see if Ivan the Terrible will let you in. I'm sure after the beating you got, he'll be more than happy to do it. If not, hold your nose, jump in, and swim. You're gonna have to swim about five hundred feet. When you see the light, go up! Climb out and you're in the Singrin. Easy. If you can make it anyway. If not, I'll be pulling your bloated body out of the water in a couple of days ," said Charon.

"Five hundred feet, it's impossible on one breath," said Gates.

"You're right, gringo, it is impossible. You're probably going to die. In fact, I'd bet my life's savings that you're gonna drown halfway through it," said Charon.

"You sure know how to give a guy a load of confidence, buddy."

"Just keeping it real." said Charon.

"What is real? I guess this as real as it gets."

"It can be done. I saw the Olympics, the world record is about six hundred and fifty feet. You don't have to go that far," said Charon. "There's a bright side. The closer you get to the Singrin, the water becomes cleaner and it will wash off the grime. You'll still smell like a portable toilet, but you'll be clean," said Charon.

"Great, I'll be dead and clean. Forget it...I can't do this!" said Gates. He fell back against the grimy walls of Shitland, trying to keep his perspective, but it was hard to breathe and even harder to think.

"You have a choice, Amigo. We all do. But you really only have one choice, because any other choice is the wrong choice, because you'll never be happy. This is the path LIFE has lead you, if you run away from it, you'll never be free. Live free or die trying," said Charon.

Gates walked up to the edge of the cesspool and looked down. He could only imagine the types of diseases and parasites that were waiting for him in the pool of grime. He looked up wondering if the King was watching.

"You've got me this far, King, don't let me down now," said Gates. He took a few steps back from the cesspool. He rubbed his hands together. Then prepared for a running start.

"Wait, wait, wait...You know, I changed my mind. I can't let you do this. I don't want to be responsible for your death, gringo," said Charon. "I don't need the bad karma. You might come back and haunt me, and I hate ghosts."

Gates smiled at Charon, realizing he might be the last face he ever sees; a real face. Charon made the sign of the cross.

Gates nodded and ran towards the cesspool. He took a breath and dove into the brown slime that sucked him in with a slurp. Into a darkness he went, into the deep, to a place unseen beyond the depths of Hades; through the underworld known as Shitland.