The Ticket, Part II

Part II, duh, of a Dear Winifred Tale!

 

     Wow, she had so many things to do, she didn't even know where to begin; but that was bullshit, she knew exactly where to begin.  That same evening, that very same evening, she marched back into Ink Wanderings Daily Newspaper, past the receptionist's desk, the one with the dye job that she must have done herself, past her staring open-mouthed assistant Bernice's desk, and stormed into Bartholomew II's office after knocking, then to his desk, where he was sitting shuffling papers around in a pathetic attempt to appear like he had more to do than leaf through the nudie magazine that Winifred knew he's hastily hidden in a drawer when she had knocked.

 

     "What?" he managed. 

 

     "I just stopped by to say I won the lottery and I quit, so suck it, old man!"

 

     "Oh, you did?  Well, let me be the first to say you're full of s**t, and if you're not here tomorrow with that smirk on your face that we all hate like Hell, you're going to wish you won the lottery, because you'll be reduced to eating toothpaste in a light water sauce, because you won't be able to afford anything else, and just so you know, your put-down skills could use a little work!"

 

     Winifred turned beet red with anger and she raised her hand in a one-fingered wave goodbye; she couldn't even think of the words to say, and stormed out.  Behind her, came the taunting voice of her father-in-law,

 

     "Is that the best you got?  Anyway, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!"

 

 

     The morning sun streaming in the window woke her the next morning.  Oh God, her head!  She gingerly test-opened one bloodshot eye.  It was no good; today was going to be a b***h to make it through.  She wished she hadn't opened that second Big Boy Malt Liquor, but damn it, she was celebrating!  Why did she even have to get up before she was damn good and ready, and she wasn't damn good and ready.  As relief washed over her, she rolled over and was soon sawing zzz's. 

 

 

    The piercing ring of the bedside telephone woke her just a few minutes later.  As her searching hand groped around the nightstand to make it stop, she accidently bumped the lamp, sending it induced by gravity to the floor, where the light bulb emitted one last super-bright burst of light, and then stopped working.

 

     "Son of a b***h!" she screamed, which only served to send what surely must have been an ice pick deep into her brain.  "Oh s**t does that ever hurt!"  At last her searching hand found the phone.  She somehow managed to bring the receiver to her ear, and angrily spat,

 

     "What the f**k do you want?"  She heard nothing.  "I said what the f**k do you want?"  Still no reply; then she heard a distant,

 

     "Hello?" 

 

     What the hell was someone doing down there by her chin?  Then it dawned on her, the receiver was upside down.   She swapped ends, and a voice said,

 

     "Hello?"

 

     "Yeah, yeah, I'm here now; what do you want; and what the Hell are you calling at the ungodly hour of---," her groggy eyes sought out the bedside clock; 11.30!   "oh, never mind, what do you want?"

 

     "Yes, this is Darrel calling on behalf of The Starving Gypsies of Greenland, and..."

 

     "S**t!" she screamed, and a thousand knives plunged into her brain.  "Oh s**t!" she whimpered.  How did the leach-b******s find out so fast about the lottery deal?

 

 

     She had tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use.  She may as well get up; thanks to Dickhead Darrel, her head could throb with sharp stabs of pain just as well on her way to the lottery office to cash in her Freedom from Bartholomew II Prize.  Thinking of II made her remember her flaccid husband III, already at work.  What a piece of work!  Oh well, she guessed she was stuck with him, although now with winning the lottery, she had choices, baby!   The thought of moving to a Caribbean island and drinking fruit drinks while being fanned by almost-naked native men flashed through her imagination.  She somehow managed to drag her train of thought kicking and screaming back to reality.  She gingerly walked over to the dresser where she had placed the winning ticket, opened the top drawer, and, nothing, it was empty.  Panic engulfed her.  It had to be in here somewhere.  One by one, she ripped open the other drawers; still nothing.  Son of a b***h!

 

 

     Later in the day, after tearing apart the house in an unsuccessful attempt to locate the ticket, she heard the jingle of keys in the front door lock.  Bartholomew was home.  As soon as his face appeared, followed by his slouching body, Winifred confronted him,

 

     "Have you seen a lottery ticket lying around?  I swore I put it in the top drawer of the dresser for safekeeping, but it's gone."

 

     "Oh, do you mean that piece of paper with numbers on it?  I just assumed it was garbage; I was cleaning up the dresser, and was trying to be quiet so as not to wake you; I threw out a bunch of useless scraps."

 

     Winifred felt like she'd been kicked in the gut, and, which when combined with her aching head, really felt wonderful.  "What?  You did what?"

 

     "Well, you have been complaining how much of a slob I am, so I thought I'd keep up on cleaning up."

 

     Panic surged anew in her and forgotten was the headache.  "So, you threw it in the garbage can under the sink?"

 

     "Yeah, but I remembered it was garbage day and took the can out to our big garbage can and emptied it."

 

     "What did you do that for, dumb s**t?" and she ran to the front door and out to the curb.  She ripped the lid off the can; it was empty.  Of all the times for her moron husband to get off his dead a*s and clean?

 

The End

 

 

     

 

    

Reviews

[Vidya Bacchus]

OMG. I knew it .So close and her husband decides to clean lol.You know she is going to make his life even more of a living hell.Poor man :)

[Michael Stevens]

Yeah, everything that happens in her life is someone else's fault; she doesn't suffer fools well, which in here book is EVERYONE ELSE!

[Vidya Bacchus]

She has a very hateful book far as I see lol.I would never read it :)

[Marie]

Somehow I felt this would happen to Winifred. She was not destined for happiness. Perhaps that's why she tries to spread as much misery as possible.

[Michael Stevens]

She certainly spreads something around, but I'm not sure it's misery!