1828. Who’s the lucky fella?
© Bruce Goodman 25 May 2020
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 in 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.
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