There Was a Farmer, Had a Dog and Bingo was His Name-o

It's Friday Night. Big hair. No hair. Track suits. Mom jeans. I'm here raising money for the Red Cross. Strong perfume. Body odor. Yellow teeth. No teeth. I get there late, and they've often already started. Oxygen tanks. Sequined hats. Buddahs. Rabbits feet. Trolls. Smoky haze. Nope, scratch that- smoke so thick I can't see who's calling for me. How do they know my name? Name tag. NO- they can't see the name tag. Coffee. Snacks. Fiber. Big jewelry. Breasts to the knees. I could wear rollerskates to be more efficient. Cigars. Too hot. Too cold. Horse shoes. Four leaf clovers. Glasses. Hairy ears. Hairy noses. Blue hair. Don't pull your money out of your bra, that's McNasty- I have to touch that money. Specials. Jackpot. Quickies. Treasure Chest. Winner Takes All. Postage stamp. Seesaw. Single. Double. Triple. Cover all. They pay me in coins and my apron jingles. Hunch back. Wheelchairs. Sandals with socks. The eerie sound of silence, only interrupted by 'thump' 'thump' 'thump.'
I am at the bingo hall.