Tonight’s lottery is worth fifty million. Fifty million! Imagine that! The things I could do with fifty million!
The first thing I would do would be to make a substantial donation to the local Food Bank. This group of volunteers work so hard trying to scrape together food to give to those in the town who are hungry and poor. Nothing could be worse than having to do without food, so I would love to be able to provide a little security to the Food Bank people. They know who deserve to be helped and those who are simply selfish scavengers.
The second thing I would do would be to buy a house for the local Fijian family who live down the road. He works on the wharves, but there is nothing left over at the end of the week – what with five children and all. They are the loveliest family and I know the parents make huge sacrifices for their children. How wonderful it would be to be able to knock on their door and say “Go pick a house and I’m paying!”
I think I would keep about five of the fifty million just as security for myself. But there are so many people with needs. I wouldn’t give too publically; just quietly help out as the needs arise.
You what? What’s that you say? I won? I won the fifty million? Oh my goodness! I just won the fifty million! I just won fifty million!
I wish all those bloodsucking scavengers would go away. There’s a Fijian family just down the road and they came along and asked if I could give a hand. Of course I wouldn’t give to them. If they worked a bit harder and had fewer kids they’d be able to afford things.
Then the Food Bank asked for a handout. A hand out to feed those lazy vagabonds who think life is a free ride on a bed of roses. Why on earth would I want to help them out?
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in winning the fifty million it’s this: it doesn’t take long for the vultures to come out of the woodwork. People think money grows on trees or something. I told them, yes I got fifty million. I worked hard all my life and most of that money I’ve put away for a rainy day. I’m not a charitable organization.
Greetings! It has come to my attention that some of you are praying to God that you might win the lottery. You would like a better house and a bigger car. Perhaps you would like to travel the world. Allow me to point out the selfishness of that prayer.
Don’t you realize that the world is full of poor people who don’t even know where their next meal is coming from? Let alone having a roof over their heads. There are countless numbers of these poor people who are too lazy to work and so have to beg for money. And yet we still have to act with charity. They may be the scum of the earth but charity is called for.
So I say it loud and clear: give generously to the fund I have set up to help the poor and needy, and remember – charity in all things. Charity! Forget trying to win the lottery. Give from what you already have. There is no place for selfishness, and quite frankly, if you don’t whole-heartedly give to my fund for the poor I hope you burn in hell, you uncharitable bastards.
Carrie hated his name. It wasn’t so much that it was also a girl’s name; it was because it was his mother’s maiden name and she’d run off with a fancy-man when Carrie was four and he’d never heard from her since.
His father had married again, and his step-mother disliked Carrie immensely because his name reminded her of “that other woman”. To be honest, Carrie would have changed his name by deed poll to Bartholomew, but it cost eighty-four dollars, and that amount of money was not something that Carrie could easily scrape up.
His father and step-mother had two other kids, both boys, and Carrie was the only one from his father’s first marriage. His step-mother favoured the other two kids, and Carrie was left to live the life of a Cinderella. Clean this. Do this. Jump to it. His father was as bad as the others.
When he was nineteen, Carrie won a massive monetary prize in a competition. His biological mother suddenly reappeared on the scene. His father and step-mother and two half-brothers all hovered hopefully.
Carrie gave each a million dollars. He was good like that, Bartholomew.