Lotto Luck

O'Brian's Black and Tan
Our Emerald Isle – Jackpot

Diary Entry

Many of us have fantasized on what we would do if we were to win the Big One.  I mean the one that would set up your family for generations to come.  I mean the one that would provide your grandchildren’s grandchildren with more money than they knew what to do with.  I don’t know what that amount would have to be but I am sure that lottery officials could send me in a direction to find out.  But such is my luck, the lottery numbers never seem to fall my way, well not directly anyway.

The National Enquirer is not the type of newspaper you should probably base a lot of your knowledge about world affairs unless you have a desire to keep up with Elvis and UFO sightings or alien abductions of the third kind.  I never read such trash and feel far superior to those who do.  However now and then a headline appears that is so sensational that one has to stop and ponder the possibilities. Abdul reads the Enquirer every week and when done throws it in the trash.  I just sort of happen to notice it is there every Saturday afternoon at three o’clock right behind the garbage container near the corner of our back ally in the white plastic container drawn tightly with a yellow bow.  Pure coincidence you see.

The headline read “Three Women Share in Power Ball.”  The sub headline stated “All were married to the same man.”   Well that is certainly enough to get one’s attention if one has not much to do while dumpster diving.  The first line of the article gave me a little shortness of breath.  “The ladies, which live in Missouri, Oklahoma, and Airzona are scheduled to meet with lottery officials in Des Monies, IA soon.”  Now what are the odds I asked.  They are the same states Jan, (Dad’s first wife,) Doris, (Dad’s second wife,) and Marsha (Dad’s third and last wife) live in.  Nah, it cannot happen the odds are too great. 

I went back in the pub and poured my self a cup of tea.  Brian came in and I casually asked him if he or Traci had spoken to their mom (Doris) lately?  No he said, had I talked to my mother (Jan) Brian asked? No not for a week or so I replied.  Traci walked in poured herself a cup of coffee.  I asked if Traci had spoken to Marsha (step mother to all) lately?  No she replied. 

I sort of chuckled to myself and said listen to this, and quoted the article the best I could.  They laughed along with me.  Bev came out of the kitchen wondering what was so humorous.  After relating the story I had read in the Enquirer Bev saw the outlandishness of the possibilities.  “Besides,” Bev said, “Don’t you think one of them would have called us by now.” 

Just then Abdul  came through the front door with a Western Union Telegram. “I got this message yesterday.  Sorry, I forgot to give it to you.” 

The telegram read: “Are arriving by three o’clock cart Tuesday stop Interesting news stop prepare three rooms stop Hope there is room at the inn stop Marsha.”  We had two days to get ready, for what I was not certain.