c. 2024 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-24)
Lester Crawford had never been a lucky person, in any sense of the word. Whenever involved in games of chance or skill, he usually walked away without scoring points or reaping a reward. He was lousy at Poker or Roulette or any sort of gambling endeavor. In life, he had worked through a series of unremarkable jobs and personal situations, before landing at Evergreen Estates after a nasty divorce. His trailer happened to be one riddled with manufacturing defects. The lot he inherited seemed to be cursed, by the suspicious death of a previous occupant. This former citizen of the mobile encampment had died in a fire with no cause officially noted.
His dog ran away on the first anniversary of moving to this rural, boxcar village. Friends from his previous neighborhoods abandoned him as an outcast, for ending up living in a glorified shipping container. His girlfriend disappeared with a tall fellow who had played football in college. If he wore a wristwatch, its batteries would regularly go dead. The tires on his Geo Metro couldn’t seem to hold air. He frequently lost balance when carrying groceries up the front steps, to his door. So, his forehead and arms were perpetually bruised.
Adding to his woes, he once took a wild pitch in the face, while playing softball in grade school. That cocked his nose sideways, a facial oddity that lasted ever after. People would stare at him like a zoo animal in a cage. They either pitied his odd appearance, or looked away with the desire to forget him, completely.
All these things made him cower slightly, in public. So, when he approached the service counter at a local supermarket, to purchase a lottery ticket for a drawing valued at a billion dollars, he did so without making eye contact. Shyness bent him over. He held out dollar bills to buy one ticket, with his hand trembling. This caused the cashier on duty to raise her eyebrows, and grin with curiosity.
“Just one try at the big prize, sir? Don’t you feel lucky today?”
Lester shook his head and flinched with embarrassment. He still wore the same T-shirt and sweatpants that were favorite garments for sleeping on his rollaway bed at home.
“That’s all I got, miss! Well, enough for a ticket and a tall can of Steel Reserve 211. That’s what I drink when watching wrestling at night. I like the acrobatic stunts they perform...”
He plopped the aluminum cylinder on her countertop. It made a ringing noise that reminded him of a match bell sounding to indicate that WWE competition was about to begin.
The store employee was lean and tall. She had her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Okay now, don’t drink it in the parking lot! Have a good day!”
Late in the evening, he sat in front of his big-screen television with a bag of cheddar popcorn, and the cold, refreshing drink. A newscast from WJW Fox 8 in Cleveland flickered as he was dozing off in his favorite chair. Numbers from the Ohio Lottery were read out dramatically, while he struggled to stay awake.
“66... 43... 13...”
Initially, the progression matched his receipt from their Mega Millions drawing. He snapped to attention while realizing that there was an actual chance he would receive something. Maybe a few dollars for having part of the sequence correctly rendered on his stub?
“71... 22...”
His face began to burn as the whole code was repeated, so viewers could recheck their tickets. Every number matched his validation, perfectly. Suddenly, his fingers could not hold the slip of paper, any longer. It fell to the floor and landed next to an end table by the sofa. He jumped to his feet, and poured the can of Steel Reserve over his head, like an athlete spraying champagne to celebrate a league championship. Foaming malt liquor soaked his carpet.
“I DID IT! I DID IT! EVEN THOUGH I’M NEVER LUCKY AT ANYTHING! NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!”
Having his receipt certified, and the money paid out, proved to be more complicated than he had expected. Yet he completed this daunting task with much gratitude. A legal maneuver kept him anonymous, for the moment. He did not want to be named publicly, for fear of having others from his trailer community at the front door, begging.
Yet sitting on this treasure chest, alone and disconnected, soon filled him with a numb sense of worthlessness. He couldn’t buy too many things, for fear of being outed as a multi-millionaire, with his lump-sum payout. Vacationing seemed pointless, because he would have no friends or family to share the experience, without admitting his good fortune. And in truth, he was a benevolent soul at heart. The thought of having riches for himself offered no great sense of victory. He was more disposed to helping others, particularly those in need.
When the first day of May arrived, and payment for their monthly rent came due, he walked to the park office with a wad of hundred-dollar bills in his camouflage hoodie. Manager Dana Alvarez was at her desk, sorting through official mail and forms that needed to be filed. She had a cigarette burning in her ashtray.
Lester knocked politely before entering. Then stood in front of her workspace, and asked about the amount he had to pay.
“I’ve been up here regularly, for 22 years, ma’am. Always with a personal check in my hand. But you know, today, I’d like to do something different. What if I asked you about buying this property, for myself?”
The business supervisor was pretty, with deep, dark eyes and a pleasant smile. But his question made her nose wrinkle.
“Ay, what did you say? Are you loco? You’re gonna guy this patch of dirt? That’ll cost a lot more than bringing me a rent check!”
The quiet loner pulled out his roll of bills, and plunked it on the metal desk.
“HOW’S THIS FOR A DOWN PAYMENT, HUH?”
Dana rolled her eyes and cursed in Spanish.
“DIOS MIO! DID YOU ROB A BANK OR SOMETHING? DON’T FLASH THAT WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE IT! EVERYBODY’S BROKE IN THIS PLACE! THEY’LL BEAT YOUR ASS!”
He laughed and patted the stash of money.
“I’ve got more, a lot more! Call your bosses and tell them I’d like to make an offer. We’ve had so many different owners since I came here, that one more won’t even be noticed. You can hang around and work for me if that sounds appealing...”
The Puerto Rican femme squawked like a bird caught in a tree.
“IDIOTA! ARE YOU CRAZY? WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH THIS DUMP, GIVE EVERYBODY FREE RENT? HAH!”
Lester bowed his head and sighed loudly.
“Probably, at least for a month or two. Just to help people who are struggling. Especially folks like Granny May across the street. She’s in her 80’s now, I’ve never had a better neighbor...”
Dana turned a bright shade of red.
“SEÑOR DIOS. AYÚDAME! THEY’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS WHEN I CALL CALIFORNIA!”
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