#Lady Luck

#Lady Luck

By Eclipse93

The day I realized my potential, I was eating a SUPER gush-worthy, still hot, freshly grilled cheeseburger with a side a fries, and a green smoothie. But before that…

February 14, 2021; Valentine’s Dud.

The clink of cups resounded in the busy restaurant. Sara was dressed in a purple dress.

Her (blind) date was 10 minutes late, bordering on 11.

Refusing to wait another minute, Sara left with her dessert (and dignity intake).

That’s how she tells the story.

She actually waited for close to an hour, drank half a bottle of juice, and ate three appropriately themed desserts. Telling the concerned couple to her left and the waiter that she was taking herself out on a date. “#Narcissus,” she pointed out after her third glass.

February 25, 2021; As I Was Saying…

The burger was *chef’s kiss*. At 26, I was interning at one of the top dog media companies.

The office was dimly lit, gray, and bleak; a stark contrast from the brightly-colored, enticing world of my favorite webtoon series: Knock em’ Dead (an idiom for good luck).

I woke up today to my neighbor’s dog barking, and feeling excitement bubble up from the thought of reading this week’s episode of Knock em’ Dead.

Living the dream.

February 24, 2021; The Day Before.

“With great power, comes—”

“—great fun!” Sara exclaimed, “See you tomorrow, Howard!” The security guard waved her off.

After leaving the building, walking into the crisp air and light snowfall, I had decided to go grocery shopping. With a box of hot cocoa and mini marshmallows in hand, I pay for my groceries, then ask for 2 lottery tickets. The store’s ambience making her zone out, until the store’s TV begins playing an interview with Narcissus. His tight-fitting pink costume was eye-catching to say the least. The employee handed me the tickets…

February 15, 2021

Behind set, still reeling internally about the blind date, Narcissus is being interviewed about another commemorative feat. He ranks in the top 50s and is likely to get admitted into the Big Leagues, at least that’s what the news anchor keeps insisting on.

After things wrapped up, Sara leans against the wall by the buffet table to eat something, taking out her packaged Italian sandwich. Her heartbeat jumps at the blurb of pink to her left.

Ripping off a piece of a soft pretzel, Narcissus smiles at Sara. Sara is quick to smile back. “I heard from Lucy,” (the makeup stylist), “you were stood up on Valentine’s Day?” “Really just 10-11 minutes—” “He didn’t show though right? Some advice sweety—appearance is everything.” Sara nods her head to the good-looking water-breather. He walks off, and Sara is left now with a choice: Eat her sandwich or eat her mother-fucking sandwich.

February 26, 2021; Continued…

With her apartment just a block down, Sara begins her venture down the busy streets, looking forward to drinking hot cocoa at her veranda on the snowy day.

“Miss!” She hears behind her, turning around, the woman who called her continues, “Churro?” The vender had a warm expression, and Sara excitedly agreed. “For free?!” The woman insisted on it. “Thank you!” Sara walked off in high spirts, faintly hearing the sound of an aircraft rush overhead.

The city was aglow with lights, neon and rustic, while still feeling so elated by the free churro and with two crumbled, potential winning tickets and hot cocoa to look forward to; just about to reach her apartment, a vehicle whizzed passed, and from it a bag crashed right in front of her feet. Bank robbers, she mused. Picking up the bag after realizing no one in sight and no cops following in pursuit, she decided to take it back to her apartment. Free churro, and now free money.

After going through the contents of the bag, back in her suite, she poises the question to herself, “What would you do with $20,000 of stolen cash?!”

February 25, 2021; Buy a Burger.

After leaving her apartment the next day, she ran into her new neighbor, Sandy or Sunday—she couldn’t remember with $400 stolen cash in her wallet and the rest across the hallway (under her bed); and after discovering her new neighbor was in fact a retired superhero. Her new neighbor warmly invited Sara to her welcoming party, mid next month.

After cooling down, she bought herself the best burger in town and tipped her taxi driver a clean $50.

Back in her apartment, after work, cross-legged with the now $19,881 splayed out on her bed; pondering whether she should use it or return it… Grabbing her jacket, she went to get some fresh air. Outside, on her balcony, she looked down on the city and then up at the sky where you can often see supers flying about. She shivered from the cold, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, immediately feeling the two tickets and change. Taking out the tickets and a quarter, she finally scratched them.

With a shaky breath, Sara held the two freshly scratched tickets—both winners. Elation swelling within.

She quickly ran out to the small grocery store. And to her surprise and delight, they were both winners. The scanner lit up, congratulating me on the $300,000 total that I won. “You’re going to have to go to Lottery Headquarters—” Sara slapped down a $10 bill, asking for a Power-ball (with a jackpot over $600 million cash value) along with eight more $1 scratch offs. Scratching each one off at one of the three tables by the entrance—she proved to herself that something was going on here.

Back in her apartment, she had a theory and decided to test it out.

Picking up her phone, she called her boss. “Pick up, pick up.” She earnestly whispered over the ringing with her fingers crossed. To her surprise, he did. Immediately: “Hi! I’m Sara Mores and I’m an intern at Nexus News!” “And what can I do for you Miss Mores?” “I’d like to be a paid intern…$15,000 per week. A-and I would like to get the rest of this month and the next two months off…WITH paid vacation…” There was a pause, “Sure, we’ll see you back then…May 3rd. Anything else?” he drawled. “No sir,” Sara quipped. After the phone call, Sara wasn’t entirely sure if he was serious, but at least she knew she had a magnetism to money and possibly free food, or just churros…

Testing out her theory, part 3; 8:30 PM: Purple jacket. Tight leather jeans (she found way back in her closet). 90s crunched hair. A cat’s eye (makeup). And a worn backpack. “BINGO!” Sara exclaimed! For the third time in a row she won the game against a tide of elderly persons on Bingo Night. For her first time, since she moved to the city, she went to her city’s grand casino, and she was feeling lucky.

8:40 PM: Sara notices an upset person tripping on his way to confront Sara after her fourth bingo win.

9:10 PM: Sara found a diamond necklace on the floor on her way to collecting her bingo winnings, carefreely stuffing it in her jacket pocket. Smiling broadly and confidently, she went next door to the casino parlor.

11: 40 PM: After winning every game she played, and clearly jinxing everyone who tried to forcibly stop her, Sara called it a night.

11:45 PM: She catches news of Narcissus almost drowning, making her chortle.

11:47 PM: Leaving the casino with her busting at the zipper backpack, bidding the casino’s enraged manager adieu, she bumps into what she believed to be not human. Turning, she sees that it wasn’t a door or wall, but…

“You’re—,” the not-door he began to say. “Mr. Unbeatable! It’s Mr. Unbeatable!” A man behind her exclaims. The manager sighing in relief. The relief, albeit, was short-lived. Instantly, the crowd becomes riled. The superhero was legendary after all. Then appearing out of the woodwork—a casino brawl breaks out, allowing Sara to slip out.

Weeks later:

Sara leaves the jewelry store with a bag full of jewelry in her very own identifiable costume—purple, comfortable, and flattering; feeling on top of the world. Her skin became flawless and radiant, and the pounds she was trying to lose for years just melted off, effortlessly. She now wakes up to constant great hair days. Being an ant-hero—

“Did you just call yourself an anti-hero?” Sara whips around.

Tall, handsome, and—most of all—triggering. The man who stood me up just had to hear me monologuing, she thinks vehemently. Composing herself, she coolly looks over at her brand new luxury smart car, and smiling she responds, “And you are?” Seeing this as an opportunity for revenge, she tries jinxing the man—a bulb bursting by him. Satisfied and delighted that she can will it, she then resolutely leaves. “Watch yourself,” she warns over her shoulder.

The Day of Sherry’s (it’s Sherry) Welcoming Party:

The party with the other tenants was upbeat and packed. The décor, tasteful. All of Sherry’s accomplishments out in full glory. Looking around blithely, Sara wound up in Sherry’s bedroom and setting her glass aside decided to have fun roaming it. Inside the walk-in closet, Sara incidentally opened a secret compartment, in which was a small black book. Her interests piqued, she leafed through the pages, stopping when she saw the same grey eyes. Under the photo of her date read: Mr. Unbeatable. A heartbeat later, her phone lights up—Hey Sara!! So he really regrets standing you up and he’d like a second chance! Stashing the little black book in her dress pocket, Sara pauses over the letters, then texts back: I’m SUPER looking forward to it.