My gut instinct was correct. I’d hit on the Mega Millions lottery and I felt a rush of joy and then disappointment.
My children were in a party store with me after I ran the bar codes on the tickets to see if I hit.
“Hey Brandon an Celine,” I shouted across the store. “I have good news and bad news.”
They ran up to me to see what had pop in an uproar.
“The good news is I hit the Mega Millions lottery,” I said. “The bad news is it was for $4.”
I didn’t even know that was possible? How can the state tease you like that? I thought you either won a huge jackpot, this time for $450 million, or you lost. Some lucky bastard in Florida won the big prize and did not share his winnings with me.
I wanted to buy a new car. I wanted to peel off a few million to my girl Lady Di, who sold me the ticket and I wanted to completely pay off Stanford University, where my daughter goes to school and Michigan State, where my son hopes to study.
I wanted to retire in style and treat myself to something fun and outlandish. I’d give more to my favorite charities and I have a dream of opening up a non profit in the city of Detroit. I’d hire artistic kids to design T-shirts, posters and hats and other city kids to market and sell the items to give them a chance of making a little money and give them hope for the future.
Instead I had a whopping $4, which I used as a down payment for my kids’ lunch. I still owed $11.38.
I did not have enough money to open that non profit, but I had enough money after my lottery winnings to buy a couple pairs of socks, a Junior Whopper and fries or shaving cream.
The condo in Hawaii will have to wait.
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