The Ticket; Part OneA Story by Michael StevensA Dear Winifred Tale
Son of a
b***h! thought Winifred as she, out of complete
boredom, punched her cluttered desk in frustration; another hour ? She already felt like she'd been here two or three days, and here it was, only Monday.
How was she ever going to make it, especially without her crutch of
Face-Torches? She reached into her desk
drawer, and among the bullshit useless items in there, she felt around until
feeling the pack of nicotine gum. She
angrily pulled it from the drawer, slammed it shut, and gobbled all eight
pieces left in the pack. Now she'd be
out, but she needed something with the drug in it. Christmas was fast approaching, which pissed
her off, adding to the anger she was already feeling having to deal with the
drooling cretins who flooded her in box with desperate pleas for help. She wasn't a miracle worker; to quote a
movie, 'You can't make chicken salad out of chicken s**t!', and having to pick
out the perfect gift for Uncle Clucky was a royal pain; one she could do without. Reluctantly, she clicked on the next
patheta-letter.
Finally, quitting time had arrived. She threw the car keys from her purse into
her jacket and started for the front door.
She was about three steps from freedom when a voice sounded behind her.
"Hold on everybody. I'd like to give you your Christmas
bonuses,"
Well,
well, Mr. Cheap-A*s is finally handing out the goods! thought Winifred.
"but unfortunately, we've had sort of
a down year,"
She saw red. So, Mr.
Cheap-A*s is being his usual Mr. Cheap-A*s huh?
BIG shock! She'd expected
nothing else.
"so, the only thing I could afford
was lottery tickets; inside your envelope you'll find five lottery tickets;
good luck everyone, and I'm really sorry I couldn't get you all more."
Five bucks worth of worthless paper? Why, that cheap son of a b***h!
Yeah,
come on over for Christmas dinner; I'll be serving used hot dogs because I
can't afford s**t; my cheap a*s boss is being his usual cheap-a*s self! she thought, bitterly.
She needed another Big Boy Malt liquor so
she swung into the parking lot of Zoom! Mini-Market. She grabbed the big-a*s bottle out of the
cooler, grabbed some pepperoni sticks to go with it, and went up to the check
out counter. An extremely-bored-looking
loser in what must have been his best dress/ripped tee shirt, said without
looking up from the small back and white television,
"Will that be all?"
She was instantly angry; why, I'm sorry it's my fault your life sucks
hind tit! "Yeah, that'll do
it," she replied, before remembering the lottery tickets her father-in-law
had given her. She may as well watch all
of them come back as worthless s**t.
"Oh, can you check these please?" and she pulled the lottery
tickets from her purse and set them down on the counter. Ripped tee shirt dude gave a mighty sigh,
reluctantly pried his eyes from the show he was watching, walked over to the
lottery computer which was three steps
away, for God sake, and started running the tickets through the
machine. The drawing for the numbers had
just taken place this morning and just as she'd suspected, the first four came
back with one or no matching numbers.
Merry
Christmas to me; this is about as useless as tits on a milk cow! Now, as she thought with bitterness about her
father-in-law, she was so angry she wasn't even making sense. The loser/ripped tee shirt dude ran the fifth
and last ticket through the machine.
Winifred had turned her attention to the cover of 'Romper/Stomper
Off-Road' magazine, and was admiring the picture of the eight-foot tall monster
truck on the cover, when Ripped Tee Shirt Dude let out a surprised yell,
"Well I'll be, you won ma'am, you
won!"
Winifred was still distracted by the
bright shiny object that was the magazine and turned her attention back to the
guy, "What?"
"I said you won; you got all six
numbers!"
No
way! was the first thought that
flashed into her mind. The second
thought that flashed into her mind will be forever lost to history because all
she would forever remember was the first thought. "Holy s**t!, Holy S**t!
Holy s**t!" she screamed.
© 2014 Michael Stevens |
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2 Reviews Added on April 2, 2014 Last Updated on April 2, 2014 AuthorMichael StevensAboutI write for fun; I write comedy pieces and some dramatic stuff. I have no formal writing education, and I have a fear of being told I suck, and maybe I should give up on writing, and get a job makin.. more.. |

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