ESSAY CONTEST WINNER -- “Why I Deserve to Win the Powerball Lottery”

    First off, I’m not smarmy and practically nobody around here is smarmy.  This is pretty much a smarmy-free zone. I’m a regular “Joe,” although “That” is not my real name, and neither is “Joe.” (I do know a few people named “Joe,”  but I don’t know anybody named “That.” But even the people I know named “Joe” don’t have  quotation marks around their names.  “That’s” just an affectation.  It’s kind of smarmy.  Which is why you never hear about anybody named “Joe” winning the lottery. Or “That” for that matter.

    I’ve never won a lottery before.  I’ve also never played one. Played Bingo once.  Came in second. There was a smudge on the playing card, and I called out  “B-A-N-G-O!” at an inopportune moment. They damn near kicked me out.

    I promise that if you let me win the Powerball lottery, I’ll make sure that, up to the winning moment, I will have had no interest in lotteries whatsoever. I also promise that I would not even have stepped foot in the Smarty-Mart that will have sold the winning ticket except that my brother will have been out of Randy’s Discount Herring in Wine-Like Sauce, and he will have asked me to pick up a jumbo pack on my way over to his house to watch a pigeon racing extravaganza on the computer.

    I further promise that it will not have even occurred to me to purchase a lottery ticket, except for my brother telling me to be sure to pick one up prior to exiting the store and subsequent to tendering legal tender for the picking up of same.

    I also promise that my brother will have given me instructions about what specific numbers to play.  I further promise that I will have forgotten these numbers by the time I get to the store (except that I will think there might be a 2 in them) and that, therefore, I will just play any old stupid numbers that come to mind, making sure to include a 2 in them.

    When I win the 240 million dollar jackpot, I won’t come forward to claim the prize for a very long time. Not because (as will be widely assumed) I am consulting with lawyers and accountants and the like, but because the winning ticket will have slipped behind the refrigerator and I will have forgotten about it until I pull the refrigerator out from the wall months later to retrieve a magnet of a photo of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out, whereupon I will discover the winning ticket and some dust balls worthy of an honorable mention in the Guinness Book of Honorable Mentions.

     I will almost throw away the winning ticket thinking it is a parking ticket, and if I can forget all about it, why can’t they? Nice try.  They never forget.

    Although (as previously mentioned) I will try to throw away the winning ticket, I will be unable to do so, because it will stick to my fingers. Fate? No. Jelly.

     Just as I am about to pry the ticket off my hand with a lemon zester, a news report will come on the radio (which I never listen to, but which, in this case, will be inadvertently turned on by the cat attempting to jump on top of the counter and missing and slipping down the shelves because he is too fat -- reaching out with his rabbit paws in a desperate attempt to break his fall and not look like an idiot, which he kind of is) mentioning that the winning ticket was sold in my neighborhood 5 months ago but that the winner still has not come forward yet, probably because the winner is consulting with lawyers and accountants and the like. (Little do they know).

    This will pique my interest enough to cause me to look at the paper stuck to my hand -- after first soaking my hand in hot water. It will take several seconds for the fact that I have won A HUGE SUM OF MONEY to sink in -- about the same amount of time as it will take for me to pull my hand out of the sink and wave it around frantically to air-dry it (the ticket).

     Winning (A HUGE SUM OF MONEY) will not change me, I assure you. When the reporters come to my house to trespass on my lawn and trample my crocuses,  I promise that when asked whether I will quit my job, I will say something witty like “no, because I got fired, so they already quit it for me,” which will have been the truth. [Hint:  One good reason why I deserve to win the lottery].

    Then when they ask what do you plan to do with all that money, I will say, “oh, you know, fund the construction of a slimming salon for cats.” This will make not a few people mad.

     So what?  Did they win? 

     Smarmy bastards.  Who cares what they think?