The drive was a batshit crazy I-want-to-scream tensionfest. Alan made it in six hours. Vegas was supposed to be fun. Like Hell it is. Maybe if the Devil –- in this case, the beloved Mrs. Alan Johnson — isn’t there. You could say that their trip went badly. You could also say that the Grand Canyon is really just a little crack.

“Really Alan. Do you have to drive that fast? Why do you insist on getting us there dead. Slow down. I swear to God, Alan. You slow this car down to the speed limit or I will get out and walk!”

Alan gritted his teeth and drove a little faster. Funny, the Devil swearing to God like that.

When they got home, his wife hurried to the bathroom and Alan hurried to the garden. In one of the far corners he started to dig. Alan didn’t want to hear one more damned time about Gamblers Anonymous, or about Alcoholics Anonymous, or any of the million other Anonymouses that his wife so-lovingly suggested. He had a bad night at the tables, that was it. It’s not like they won’t be able to get it back.

He kept digging in the ground, but there was nothing there. Nothing. Maybe the marker moved. Yeah, maybe it was in the other corner. Better get the shovel.

The beloved Mrs. Alan Johnson had been yammering about Anonymouses before they even left for Vegas. Sure, he swore that he’d only spend a thousand dollars, but you can’t just give up on a streak! He was up at least four thousand, maybe five at one point. Alan was basically stealing Blackjacks from the dealer. He’d never been so lucky.

The garage was messy. How much was his engagement ring again? At least a couple grand. That’s good. He grabbed the shovel and went back out to the garden.

When he had about half the garden dug up, Alan’s wife came outside. She’d been fuming for some time.

“And what are you doing Alan?”

He muttered and filled his shovel up with dirt, threw it behind him, and dug again.

“God damn it, Alan. If you’re looking for that stupid little box, I thew it away last week. Before we left.”

“You what?!?”

She turned her head in disgust. “I don’t even want to know what you were hiding from me.”

“That box had about three thousand dollars in it! That’s almost half of what I lost!”

She said calmly that he shouldn’t have been so secretive. Then perhaps he wouldn’t have to get a second job. She walked inside, leaving her husband in the back yard cursing the Devil.

Mrs. Alan Johnson felt badly.

She’d lost money too this weekend, about three thousand dollars that she’d found in the garden.