The Lottery Bat

 

 Oh, no.  

A Lottery Bat.

All I wanted to do was pop in the convenience store and buy a drink and a paper.  It’s my lunch hour and I don’t have too much time.  But now I’m stuck behind a Lottery Bat.

I should have known, when I saw her checking the sign that announced how big the next jackpot was.  But I had to go to the back to find the milk, and now she’s beaten me to the cash register.  

So now I have to listen to this 98-year-old gnome hold up the line and buy lottery tickets by the dozen.  This is her whole life.  This is her Wildly Important Goal.  This is WHAT SHE DOES.   She is a LOTTERY BAT.   

“I’ll have an Encore, a Double-Plus Encore, three Qwik-Picks, another Nose-Pick, one of the Scrabbles…no, make it two Scrabbles.   A Crustacean Super Special, a Bingo…another Gigantor Lotto, three Six-Forty Nines, a couple of Sixty-Nines, and two tickets for the Fallopian Draw…”

She just goes ON and ON.  The poor clerk is struggling to keep up with her purchases.   

Okay, Friar. I tell myself.  There’s no sense in getting Type-A.  She’s just an old lady.  It won’t matter if you have to wait a few extra minutes.  So I walk around the store, killing some time.  After a while, the Lottery Bat has quieted down and starts searching through her Old-Lady purse.  Finally!  Maybe I can buy my *&$%@# paper now. 

And then I hear it. 

I hear the dreaded, horrible noise.

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee! 

It’s the sound of the lottery machine announcing a winning ticket.   Oh great! Now she’s cashing in her winnings.

Un-freaking believable.  These seniors have the ENTIRE DAY to shop and run their errands.  They could buy their tickets and cat food anytime. But NOOoooo!  It HAS to be during MY lunch hour!  (Or right after work at 5:00 PM).  

I swear they do this on purpose.  They must have a Spidey Sense when we’re in a rush.  I can just picture it:   Grampa Dentures and the Lottery Bat are sitting at home watching Matlock (or whatever it is that old people do) and suddenly one of them says:  ”Hmmm…my trick knee is acting up…I sense a young ‘un who must be in a hurry.   Quick…to the CODGER-MOBILE…we must hold up the line!”

 I’m watching her cash in her winning tickets.   2 dollars here.  10 dollars there.  It’s all adding up.

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee! 

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee! 

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee! 

This is pretty amazing, when you consider it.   I rarely buy tickets, but when I do, I hardly EVER win.  Not even 5 bucks.  But Grandma Moses has just cashed in three winning tickets in a row.  How many did she have to buy in order to achieve this?  What does she do…spend her entire pension check?    

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee!  

My God!  HOW MANY TICKETS does she have?  And of course, she won’t take the the money and leave.  No.  In order qualify as a Certified Lottery Bat, she needs to use her winnings to buy even MORE tickets.

“I’ll have another Cash Draw,  three Hop Scotches,  a Free Quickie, Sixteen Power Plays, and the Radio Bingo…”

The infernal lottery machine jingles on.  I think this is how Dante described the 5th Circle of Hell.  

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee! 

Do-dee-do-dee.    Do-dee-do-dee.  Do-dee, do dee do deeeeeee!  

Oh, for CRYING OUT LOUD!  She’s not anywhere near done yet.  I put down the milk and paper and bail out.  I buy a slice of pizza next door and walk up and down the block.   I come back to see if I can still buy my freaking paper.   I’m afraid, I’m very much afraid, yet I MUST peek through the store window…

…and The LOTTERY BAT is STILL THERE…buying tickets!

AIIEEEEEEE!!!  I drop my pizza, and run screaming in terror down the street.   Other seniors (possibly Lottery Bats themselves) point their fingers and hiss, some cackling with glee.   They start approaching me, but I retreat back into my office building, slam the door, and bury myself in work, trying to pretend all of this never happened. 

Now I’m afraid to go out at lunch.

Damned Lottery Bats…(Shudder!).

 

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Tags: humor, lottery, seniors, small town

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