What happens when Bob Yonky wins the lottery? Will he use it for good? For bad? Will good things happen to him? Or, will the curse of lottery winners take him down?
"Give me here one of them lottery tickets." Bob Yonky's words were slightly slurred but not from the use of too much alcohol. It was just how he talked. He waved toward the rack of lottery tickets.
"Which one?" The convenience store clerk asked.
Bob waved toward the rack a second time. "The normal one." He paused, trying to find the right word. "The one with the six numbers."
The clerk picked up a lottery ticket printed on white card stock with a light pink border. Then, he put it on the counter. "That will be one dollar."
Bob thanked him as he reached into his pocket to get a dollar bill and his official lottery ticket black magic marker. After he gave the dollar bill to the clerk, he had his six bubbles filled out in short order. Sliding the ticket across the counter back toward the clerk, he proclaimed, "My winning numbers have been bubbled."
"I'm glad for you, sir," the clerk replied as tonelessly as he could. He never changed his expression as he moved the ticket from the counter to the input machine. He handed the receipt from the lottery machine to Bob, nodding his final farewell greeting. Bob left the convenience store without another thought.
That evening Bob sat in his recliner. To his right was a small end table with his RC Cola and moon pie. Across the room his TV was playing the final minutes of some sitcom that he didn't care to watch. What he wanted to watch was the lottery results, which played right after the sitcom.
In his left hand between his thumb and index finger he held his lottery ticket tight enough that not even gale force winds from a hurricane would have stripped it from him. Playing the lottery each week was the one vice that Bob allowed himself to participate in. Though he lived in a mobile home park famous for drinking, smoking, profanity and who knows what else, he and his wife stayed quietly to themselves.
As the sitcom ended, Bob pressed the Increase Volume button on his remote controller several times. He heard the announcement for the lottery drawing as the ending credits for the sitcom were rolling by.
"It's time for the lottery," he called out to his wife in the kitchen.
"That's good, dear," Susan replied. She could care less about the lottery. However, she didn't mind Bob playing, for it was only one ticket per week. And it brought her husband such pleasure, win or lose.
As the numbers were picked and announced, Bob's facial expression grew wider and wider. "I've matched the first number," he announced to his wife.
Good, she thought. Maybe we can win five dollars.
"I've matched the first two numbers." This didn't surprise Susan, for he had matched two numbers before when he won about five dollars, but when he announced that he matched the third number, she came into the living room to see how far this would go.
"That's three ... four ... five ...." Bob couldn't even articulate that he had matched all six numbers, for he was panting so hard.
Susan's expression was surprisingly straight. "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle."