Tales of the Naked City

The Chief of Staff . 

We hang the pretty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office. —Aesop

Las Vegas, the City of Last Chances, the place where absolute power corrupts absolutely. Home to unprincipled public servants, mob connected executives, and a juiced up political system rigged to ensure that the house always wins. I come from the east coast where the money is old, the leaves change color with the seasons, and influence came across on the Atlantic four hundred years ago. My sur name didn't open doors of opportunity but my ambition did.  

I came to this town eager...hungry... on my fucking grind. Working twice as hard as the next guy, only to half as far. That's when I changed my strategy. Went to school in the backrooms, decrepit casinos, and crime ridden streets of the Naked City. As any good student I took the time to meet all the players and in with hard work and dedication, I mastered the game. I reinvented myself. Came out on the other side connected and coveted, a man at the precipice of power, operating as the right hand of the king or as others may call him...mayor. He's a figure head. A grand illusion. The puppet dangling at the end of my strings. 

I saw what I wanted. I went after it with a vengeance, and I'm this close to making it mine. The political game isn't for the faint of heart. It's a long game. A chess match and I'm just the man to see it out to the end. I'm not that guy that's going to shake your hand or kiss your baby. As a matter of fact, you'd be lucky to find me in a suit most days. Change isn't made in the hallowed halls of the City Hall. Oh no, that would be too easy. I run this city from the dark place. The part of town that tourist never venture. The area where broken dreams litter the sidewalks, abandoned and forgotten like last night's beer bottles.  

Some might call it Skid Row but for me it a unique sort of boardroom. A place where the real deals happen. Under cloak, sometimes with daggers, behind closed doors away from prying eyes and feigned morals.  

This world? This city? Is almost mine. Given a little more time and the right opportunity, it will be. 

My view of the city is all seeing and my persuasive powers all encompassing. I'm sure given the right circumstance I can convince you to set aside your religious mythology in favor of a more practical, self-indulgent outcome. A type of quid pro quo if you will, but the exchange isn't balanced. How can I get what I need when you have it? 

So, while you watch the political commercials diligently researching your favorite candidates, the one you outwardly hope will make the world a better place but inwardly depend on to take the bribe. We see you, the real you. The one with the audacity to demand integrity and deign yourself above corruption while working with thieves, playing with the liars, and openly deceiving those innocents that place misguided trust in you. Don't turn to me when that bed you made is engulfed in the fiery pits of hell and no one cares if you scream. Remember if I was able to corrupt you my friend, your core was rotten, and you were already corrupt.  

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M. Jay Granberry

P.O. Box 1234

Las Vegas, NV 89131 USA 

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