Tag Archives: lottery

1956. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt

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.

1828. Who’s the lucky fella?

No sooner had I hung up the phone then there was a knock at the door. The phone call had been from the local supermarket saying I had won a $500 grocery voucher for entering a competition to write a jingle advertising spaghetti. The money would be put automatically on my supermarket card. Of course I was excited, because I was practically skint, and then came the knock on the door.

There stood a man and a woman who said “Congratulations!” I said “What for?” and they said I’d won a car. Well I was completely over the moon because to be honest I hadn’t had a car for eighteen months. The last one had died – utterly died – and I had been unable to replace it even with a beaten up old bomb.

Well, I got into my car as soon as those people had gone and went off to the supermarket to get some much needed things and a couple of not so important things like some chocolate and some coconut cookies. They say things come in threes! No sooner had I stepped out of my car at the supermarket than I was approached by a woman, I’m guessing around about fiftyish.

She said “Good morning!” and I answered “Good morning” and then she said, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to barge in but…”

“But would you like a house? I was recently diagnosed with a terminal problem and the only thing I care about in the world are my chickens. If you would like my house when I go you can have it provided you care for my chickens.”

Goodness! My first thought was coq au vin, which is what you can do with tough old chickens, but I said out loud instead, “Goodness! What a fabulous thing! Of course I will see to your chickens!”

So the woman arranged to meet with who-ever-it-was to officially hand things over, and when I got out of the car this man approached and said that he’d just won forty-eight million in the lottery and he knew it would destroy his family, so would I like the ticket? I said I had little or no family to destroy, so he gave me the ticket.

The handover of the house went without a glitch, and I’ll sell the house once the old lady kicks the bucket. On the way out of the building there was an old guy asking for money, probably for drink like always, so I said “Get a job you last lazy slob instead off bleeding off other people.” I like to tell it like it is. Some people would take the shirt off your back if you gave them half a chance.

1752. A winning day

Don’t ask me how he knew, but he knew alright. Charlie knew that this was his winning day. He didn’t know exactly how, but he knew it deep down in his bones.

He had always been intuitive; like when he knew his brother had passed away before the phone call even came through. Perhaps today he would win a lot of money in the lottery. Or perhaps he’d win the trailer load of groceries that the local Rotary Club had organized; after all he’d taken two tickets in the raffle. Perhaps he had been given the winning voucher from the local electronic supply shop; the promotion had said “Spend $20 and go in the draw to win”. He already knew how he’d spend it; at least how he’d spend part of it. He wanted a rice cooker, and a deep fryer, and a hand held whizzy stick-thing that pureed stuff. Not being sure as to which scenario was going to make his lucky day simply added to the excitement!

And then… as he looked out the window, two cars slowly passed the front of his house. One was a shiny new bright red car. Both drivers slowed down and looked at his house. They stopped just up the road. One of the drivers got out and went to the other driver’s window. They spoke for about five minutes.

During that time, Charlie was beside himself. He’d won a car! He simply knew! There were a number of competitions he’d entered over the previous month to win a car, and at last it had come to fruition. Oh lucky, lucky day!

The two cars were turning around now. They began to slowly approach Charlie’s house. He knew! He knew! Don’t ask me how he knew, but he knew alright. Charlie opened his front door wide as a welcoming gesture. His heart was in his mouth. The cars were moving so slowly. They almost came to a stop. And then they went right passed.

1701. Natural-born loser

Mavis took a ticket every week in the Lottery. She had done that for forty-two years and not won a thing. Every week she had prayed to God that she would win the Lottery.

“It’s not the money,” she would say, “it’s the security”.

But God never answered her prayer. Week after week it was “Dear God, please may I win the Lottery.” And week after week God ignored her petition.

After forty-two years Mavis had had enough. “I know what I’ll do,” thought Mavis. “I never have a prayer answered. I’ll pray to God that I DON’T win the Lottery. That way when I don’t win I can say my prayer was answered.”

But she won! She won! Mavis sighed deeply.

Some people are natural-born losers.

1541. Things happen in threes

What an extraordinary day it had been! First, Nola’s husband had checked the lottery ticket numbers and Nola and her husband, Cresswell, had won thirty-three million three hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars. While they were dancing around the living room, whooping and hollering, Cresswell suffered a heart attack and died.

That took the edge off the excitement. Nola had to organize and go through the funeral. After twenty-two years of marriage, she was sad. Of course she was sad. But it was also a relief. Their relationship had been strained over the last few years, and Nola had frequently dreamed of freedom. Now with the sudden death of her husband and the winning of the lottery, that freedom could become a reality. Of course his death was a shock. It was devastating. It always is. But at least she had security for the future. She genuinely sobbed as the undertaker carted Cresswell’s body from the house to the funeral parlour.

At last the funeral was over. Things began to settle. Nola, who hadn’t wanted to appear too excited at winning thirty-three million, knew that the time had come to claim the money! But where was the ticket? Oh! It was in Cresswell’s back pocket when she had him cremated.

1515: A rocky patch

Leonie and Lyall’s marriage was going through “a rocky patch”. Leonie was taking a few days off “to clear the air” and had gone to stay with her sister for the weekend. It would give Lyall the opportunity, said Leonie, “to think things through”.

It was Sunday morning and Lyall had thought he’d heard something during the night. He never registered because it simply sounded like Leonie. In his half-dazed sleep he never considered that she shouldn’t be there, and it wasn’t until the morning that he thought “what the heck?” Not to worry! There was nothing missing as far as he could see, so it wasn’t a burglar. Leonie must have forgotten something, although why she would drive for half an hour in the middle of the night to retrieve a forgotten item was anyone’s guess.

Lyall made a cup of coffee and settled in his favourite armchair with the Sunday paper. That was when he noticed the lottery numbers. Goodness! They looked like the numbers he took every week!

The thing was he couldn’t find his ticket.

1459. A hair’s breadth

Astrid was very community minded. She wasn’t neurotic about it, not obsessed, but if there was a bit of discarded trash on the sidewalk she’d usually stop, pick it up, and drop it in a waste bin.

On this particular Wednesday she did just that. It was a discarded ice cream paper. Clearly some child had torn the cover off their ice cream and dumped the screwed up bit of paper on the ground.

Astrid’s picking it up and placing it in the street waste container added three seconds to the mission she was on; and that was to go into the shop and purchase a lottery ticket.

Those three added seconds meant she got a different set of numbers than those she would have got if she had been three seconds earlier. And the numbers that she would have got but didn’t were the numbers that came up.

She would have won one hundred and twenty-seven million. Of course, she’ll never know she missed out by a hair’s breadth.

1159. Charity in all things

Dearly Beloved in the Lord

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.

1101. Money talks

Rhoda had this funny feeling; more of a conviction; not merely a funny internal feeling, but a simmering certitude. She thought she knew the winning numbers to that evening’s lottery draw.

Her numbers were 3, 7, 8, 21, 31, and 39. At work that day, Rhoda was telling everyone at the office water cooler that she thought the numbers were 3, 7, 8, 21, 31, and 39. She was going to take a ticket. The prize was 13 million.

She got a few groceries on the way home from work, and was so busy trying to decide which brand of cranberry juice was the healthiest, that she quite forgot to buy a ticket.

The next morning at the office, Rodger of Accounts was over the moon. Did she take a ticket using her numbers? No, she forgot.

Well I did, and I’ve won 13 million, said Rodger.

This set Rhoda on fire:

They’re my numbers and the prize money is really mine. At least half of it. I don’t know what you’re going to do with all that money, you’re just a money-grabbing accountant and you get paid so much that you have money falling out your bum. You don’t need it. As far as I’m concerned it’s my money MY MONEY BECAUSE THEY WERE MY NUMBERS. I’ll take you to court, that’s what I’ll do, unless you give me at least half. I don’t care what it costs me but I’m going to get my hands on it. You’d have nothing if you hadn’t stolen my numbers. THIEF! That’s what you are. A THIEF! I WANT THE MONEY, YOU MONEY-GRABBING WINDBAG OF SOGGY GREED. IT’S LUST, THAT’S ALL IT IS. LUST FOR MONEY. UTTER GREED.

I was just having you on, said Rodger.