What’s It Like To Hit The Jackpot of a Lifetime

The last day I can remember, I went to a gas station before heading to the plasma donation center, in hopes of getting enough money together to get a cheap hotel room for the night

It had been cold that winter so sleeping in the van wasn’t as great as it had seemed in the early fall. Peeing outside and going days and weeks without bathing, being exposed to the elements and oh the bugs . . .

Cockroaches are able to find a way to infest anything including that old van that was my makeshift home and mode of transportation

I am a degenerate. A failure. A loser. Anything I have attempted, I have mostly failed at. I who had all the potential and ability in the world, could not find a way to make anything good despite trying so very hard.

I drove past the department stores, the restaurants, seeing so many people who had both means to purchase things and people to spend time with while I on the other hand had little of the former and even less of the latter.

I couldn’t help but wonder, if there is a God, what did I do so wrong to be so alone with so little when it was so cold? I could reconcile even just one of my fates but together it just seemed a bit unfair to pile so much onto just one person. They (I am still unsure who they actually are) say that you are given the strength to bear any challenge God gives you.

I clearly was an emotional incarnation of Hercules.

I spent my last $15 on a pack of off brand cigarettes, a drink, and a scratch off lotto ticket. The clerk said someone will win but I know he didn’t mean me.

Thankful for even the little I had, I began to drive to the plasma center. By the time I arrived the sign was in the window of the decrepit window surrounded by even more decrepit people that they had reached their quota for donors for the day. I would have to try again tomorrow.

I lumber back to that van. Dejected is not the word for what I felt that last day. Defeated is also too weak of a word. Perhaps there isn’t a word on what I felt that last day that I remember.

I climbed into the driver’s seat and sat on that lotto ticket I had bought on impulse. The irony is not lost on me that on that last day I couldn’t even find a penny to scratch off the numbers . . . I had to use my car keys.

The grand prize was $250,000. I was going for one of the smaller $10 prizes so I could get gas to run the heater in the van for at least an hour or so when it got really cold.

I scratched and scratched and scratched. Cursing myself for not even having a penny because the key kept tearing the ticket. I’ll be honest I’m no gambler. I just assumed I didn’t win. Either way I couldn’t decipher the key at the top with what I had scratched and later torn with my keys.

I head back to the gas station. That same clerk is there again. I have him scan the ticket . . . And all I hear is a cha-Ching sound.

Yesss I thought. Maybe it will be enough for cigarettes AND gas?

“Sir, you just won one of the prizes. “

“Sir . . . Sir . . . “

Was he talking to me?

I look around and no one is near me. He was talking to me.

“You won $20,000. It’s one of the third place prizes.”

$20K was more than I had seen in a year. Hell $200 at this point was insurmountable amount of money to have all at once.

“Ok, so how do I cash it? Do you give me $20,000?” I ask

“No, you will have to go to Tallahassee to claim your money”. The clerk said as if I should know that kind of shit.

I have just enough gas to get to the Tallahassee office and camp out in their parking lot overnight. So I can claim my money in the morning.

I take my ticket back and the clerk offers me a fountain soda for my victory ride. Later, I would be told he actually received a cash bonus for selling me that ticket. Who knew?

I get my soda, my favorite, Mr. Pibb, which is harder and harder to find. One of the main reasons why I always tried to go to this gas station instead of others. That and depending on who was working that shift, they sometimes felt pity for me and let me have a drink for free.

I climb in the car and set out to claim my money. The last thing I remember that day other than the outline of palm trees against the fading sun was an incessant

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

Waking Up

I woke up sometime later in huge hall filled with cases and cases of books. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors.

I didn’t remember parking and going to a library but at least it was warm in here. Especially for winter.

A beautiful young lady walked up to me and introduced herself.

“Hello! Welcome back! Oh I forget, please forgive me. I’m Kali. One of your guides who assisted you while you were away.”

Away?

“Ummm, I’m not sure I know what you are talking about but it’s very nice to meet you. I just need to know where my van is? I’m on the way to Tallahassee and I need to be on my way.”

Kali laughed. Snorted. Doubled over. And then apologized.

“Marty, I’m so sorry to laugh at you but you really don’t know where you are?” Kali asked me.

A stuck up lady walked past us, arms filled with books of all sizes, and said to Kali

“Yes, Marty is back again and he NEVER remembers”.

“Can someone please tell me where my van is so I can get out of your way?” I ask.

Kali finally understood I had no idea what was going on. She took me by the arm and began to walk me through the aisles of books . . . Did I mention all of the colors they came in?

As we walk, she begins to explain

“Marty, you died today. All of the guides were so excited to have you back because you did such a great job in the life game!”

“Ummm what do you mean, good job?” I honestly was more confused by the doing a great job thing than the whole death thing. Death would make sense for a loser like me, but doing a good job? Kali couldn’t mean me.

Somehow it seemed more realistic for me to have died but somehow be walking through a library with a beautiful woman than it was to have done a good job at anything.

We turn the corner of one shelf only to see another set of shelves. Kali walked up to the shelf and on tip toes to reach the top pulls down a black Moleskine.

“Yours is black because you did such an exceptional job!” Kali beamed at me.

“Then why is it black?” I snapped back at her.

“Your book, Marty, is black, because you were able to absorb all of the hurt, the disappointment, and fear of others. Because people knew you and saw you, you were an inspiration to them to face anything they were scared of or sad about.

You faced any and every loss a human being’s soul could experience and you just kept going and were always good to others. Most people who play the difficult level of life end up losing their goodness. But you never did.

But enough about that. We must get you ready. There is a graduate class of souls waiting for you to lead their orientation in the Main Auditorium.”

“Orientation?” I ask

“Yes” Kali was beginning to lose her patience with me.

“Here’s your book, you can reference it. It contains every experience you faced while on Earth and how you handled it so well. Your students are waiting for you now.”

Kali handed me the black Moleskine and I open the door to the Main Auditorium which is packed.

As I walk through the crowded room to the podium the students began to cheer “welcome back” and “we missed you” they are on their feet applauding my return. The cheers were so loud. It was like I was a hero coming home.

I open my black Moleskine with tears rolling down my cheeks and I begin to tell them what they will face once they are born, referencing it’s pages to remember specific names or dates.