Pachinko

I don't have good luck, so I don't play pachinko or buy lottery tickets.

Jiro was all smiles after he made a bundle at the pachinko parlor.

We passed the time playing pachinko.

He wouldn't be caught dead playing pachinko.

Last week I was treated to dinner by my friend who'd won at pachinko. It was all-you-can-eat so I ate to my heart's content.

You know what my idiot son's doing? Even now he's graduated from university he spends all his time playing pachinko instead of getting a job.

He plays too much pachinko, so his wife is mad at him.

He loves playing pachinko.

We entered to a pachinko parlor.

Two teen-age boys, after selling their personal belongings to play pachinko, sold their blood to "gamble.”

The rain kept up, falling along Harajuku, beading on her plastic jacket, the children of Tokyo trooping past the famous boutiques in white loafers and clingwrap capes, until she'd stood with him in the midnight clatter of a pachinko parlor and held his hand like a child.

Snow filled her mouth. She caromed off things she never saw, tumbling through a cluttered canyon like a steel marble falling through pins in a pachinko machine.

She drizzled them in slowly and listened to the susurration of the bolts pachinkoing their way through the refrigerators and fax machines, on their way to some illegal dump.