Two Fifty-One, and Nothing
I was going to win Mega Millions. I knew. The day was filled with bizarre happenings, little blips that meant something unusual was about to transpire. I woke up with my contact lenses still in my eyes, having completely forgotten to take them out. I started to take a shower, but we had no hot water. Randomly, the pictures fell off the bathroom walls. When I opened my wallet to pay for lunch, the only money I had was a two-dollar bill. Later, after an ATM visit, the lady at Royal Farms gave me too much change. Concerned for my financial karma, I tried to correct her, but she brushed me away. So, clearly, I was going to win Mega Millions. Just had to.
I'd been gearing up all weekend, making plans, rehearsing lines. I simply couldn't believe it when I looked at the ticket! Is this really happening? Pinch me! I joined forces with a group of women at the gym. We signed our names to an official document and surrendered ten dollars each. We pooled two hundred and fifty tickets bought from a variety of locations. The amount split twenty-five ways, even after taxes, would put each of us into the rank of people who can buy groceries without anxiety and mental math. Groceries, or, you know, yachts. Wooohooo! We would all go to Aruba together to celebrate our luck.
Of course, I also bought myself a ticket. A single, secret ticket. A potential fortune to be shared only with those of my choosing. I imagined paying off all my debts and loans, and buying an entire block of houses in the city to rehab at my job-free leisure. I decided I'd turn the place into a community for artists, musicians, and writers. Then I'd establish a charitable foundation and direct it myself, traveling around the world to deliver inspiring speeches. Finally, I'd get a dog.
I stayed up until 11:22 to watch the drawing live from Times Square. It happened so fast, number after number - dreams were flattened and shattered in seconds. I could hear the neighborhood sighing along with me. Who didn't have a Mega Millions ticket last night? Or, two-hundred and fifty-one of them? Who didn't believe in some small way that it was going to happen? 11:23 was a sad, and sadly unexpected, minute. There was nothing I had to do, or could do. So I got up off the couch, took my contacts out, and went to bed.
I'd been gearing up all weekend, making plans, rehearsing lines. I simply couldn't believe it when I looked at the ticket! Is this really happening? Pinch me! I joined forces with a group of women at the gym. We signed our names to an official document and surrendered ten dollars each. We pooled two hundred and fifty tickets bought from a variety of locations. The amount split twenty-five ways, even after taxes, would put each of us into the rank of people who can buy groceries without anxiety and mental math. Groceries, or, you know, yachts. Wooohooo! We would all go to Aruba together to celebrate our luck.
Of course, I also bought myself a ticket. A single, secret ticket. A potential fortune to be shared only with those of my choosing. I imagined paying off all my debts and loans, and buying an entire block of houses in the city to rehab at my job-free leisure. I decided I'd turn the place into a community for artists, musicians, and writers. Then I'd establish a charitable foundation and direct it myself, traveling around the world to deliver inspiring speeches. Finally, I'd get a dog.
I stayed up until 11:22 to watch the drawing live from Times Square. It happened so fast, number after number - dreams were flattened and shattered in seconds. I could hear the neighborhood sighing along with me. Who didn't have a Mega Millions ticket last night? Or, two-hundred and fifty-one of them? Who didn't believe in some small way that it was going to happen? 11:23 was a sad, and sadly unexpected, minute. There was nothing I had to do, or could do. So I got up off the couch, took my contacts out, and went to bed.
posted by Tracy at 7:33 PM
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