PARANORMAL POSTTIME

Seattle, Washington: Being a Successful Professional Gambler from Iowa who specializes in parimutuel horses, I've seen and heard a few strange things in my life, but....the story that Shorty Boy McLaughlin told me was the strangest yet. As a Successful Professional Gambler, I examine the logical course of actions and take advantage at the parimutuel window. So, you can take it from me that Shorty Boy's explanation is the only logical way it could have happened.

     Shorty Boy told me of a sure-thing long-shot he was riding the next day in the 5th at Spruce Meadows and produced a horse-size suppository filled with a substance better known as "50 to 1 shot taking it by a nose". The past performance and adjusted speed figures of this horse would make me its only player! This required a pre-victory celebration pint which Shorty Boy was all in favor of cracking open.

     The next day at the beginning of the 5th, Shorty Boy was still asleep in the stables ten minutes before posttime. Needless to say, he found himself a few lengths behind in the back stretch and I was in a hurtful need of a bankroll. Just part of the life of a Successful Professional Gambler.

     Since then, Shorty Boy's tips paid-off in a few smaller races. On the night of August 3rd, 1996, he found me again at the Streamline to tell me of another sure horse. Dow's Drum started his racing life as a $40,000 allowance horse and had a whole string of impressive wins and speed figures. But after encountering a minor injury in the gate, this eight year-old started finishing early somewhere before the first turn. On top of that, he hadn't run in a year. Shorty Boy said he was stunning in his workouts and the best horse he'd ever ridden. The best . I knew that the best horse Shorty Boy had ever taken to the gates had to be the real thing. Also, his trainer wanted to give him an easy win by entering him in a field of six $3,200 claiming race. The sure thing. Even the other Successful Professional Gamblers wouldn't take much of a chance on this horse without the inside scoop. I had the inside scoop and needed to celebrate.

     An hour before posttime, I woke Shorty Boy out of my bathtub and we rushed to catch the shuttle to the track. Mass Transit supplies the Successful Professional Gambler more time to study the forms instead of watching the road. Once at the track, Shorty Boy and I went the separate ways of our individual trades. I bet my last dime, my only credit card, my Mom's credit card, and my Aunt's credit card (the Successful Professional Gambler attends all family reunions).

     I had placed $2500 on Dow's Drum to win and wheeled all the other horses around him in exactas and trifectas. There would be no Old Crow tonight. Shorty Boy and I would be throwing down the smoothness of Old Grandad.

     Dow's Drum loaded into the 5th gate with little trouble and I always smile when my horse loads cleanly. At the bell, Postman jumped to the quick lead followed bly by Wise Bud and Bill's Ark. Dow's Drum managed it out of the gate well in back of the pack. I was unconcerned. Shorty Boy had told me that Dow's Drum was a b closer who would like nothing better than the sprinters speed-dueling themselves out early. At a 22 2/5 quarter, Dow's Drum was 8 lengths backin' 6th and on the outside with Shorty Boy stalking the leaders waiting for the right opening to make his move. Into the first turn, Postman started to fade-one sprinter gone and 4 to go. Dow's Drum caught the 5th horse in the middle of the turn and Shorty Boy was on the move. Unfortunately, the move Dow's Drum was on headed toward the parking lot.

     Later, at the Streamline, Shorty Boy told me the story:

     "I had him coming up on the outside in the first turn when he started going wide. I tried to bring him closer to the rail, but he wouldn't respond. Then...my eyes went with his eyes. In the general admission parking lot, section D, was this creature tearing through a garbage can! It was four foot tall winged monster with dark, speckled gray fur. It had huge slanted red eyes...no ears! And it had these thin arms with three-fingered claws. And it was tearing the sides off this garbage can like it was paper."

     My eyes loomed large. I had heard of a creature like this before, ripping up automobiles to get to their furry, squirming lunch which had hidden in the engine. I knew the terror it could put in a high strung winning horse like Dow's Drum.

     Shorty Boy was instantly relieved that I was the sort who could understand his dilemma and not the provincial type ignorant of the existence of such weird creatures. He sputtered, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. That was it. The Chupacabra. The Chupacabra. That is what stopped Dow's Drum."

     I bought Shorty Boy another drink to calm his nerves. This had to be the only logical explanation. There was no other way that horse was going to lose that race. The Chupacabra had lost me more money than I'd ever lost on a race before. The other horses may have seen this monster, but were not classy enough animals to be affected.

    Mr. Jackson is an Iowan and Successful Professional Gambler currently playing the meet at Spruce Meadows near Seattle.