How Orville Won the Lottery
by Michael Lawrence
"The odds of winning the lottery are the same as getting run over by a car and struck by lightening at the same time," Orville Styles, a man of a wimpy stature, said in the mirror as he expertly combed his sparse head of hair. "Well, I think that may very well be worth the price."
Orville Styles put on a hat of aluminum foil resembling a large bowl. Sticking out sat two compressed, five-foot antennae-each had a grapefruit-sized wad of aluminum foil attached to it.
"NeenerNeener," Orville said while rolling his eyes, making a personal comment on his resemblance to a B-movie Martian. "Nanu Nanu." He laughed at this joke. His laugh sounded like he was trying to make his nose explode.
In a kingly position, on top of a barely recognizable dresser, a half-eaten corduroy pillow, and a yellow-stained lace tablecloth, it sat. The shiny green lottery ticket. He uttered a terribly produced but celestial-sounding operetta as he placed the lottery ticket inside his underpants for luck. Some people throw table salt over their shoulders. His method is cheaper.
He excitedly put on a slicker and rubber boots. He opened the door and outside appeared the rainy, inner city streets of New York City. A hideous, relic automobile from the 70's sputtered by releasing a thick cloud of ugly smoke behind it.
"Ah yes," Orville said pleasantly while peering cheerfully to the foul sky as violent droplets of water pelted his face. "New York, New York! I wouldn't trade this town for the universe!"
A deafening bolt of lightening struck above. The darkened gray sky lent the place a beautifully eerie atmosphere. He smirked with satisfaction and began to walk.
Soon, Orville almost literally ran into a metal street lamp with a leaflet from a cheap insurance company duct taped to it. It had a crude photograph of the squinty-eyed Clint Eastwood wearing a cowboy hat. Under Eastwood were words that read "Do you feel lucky punk?"
"Yeah!" Orville yelled enthusiastically above the pounding rain - his glasses were steamed and water was streaming down his nose. "I DO feel lucky!"
He removed the antennae from his head and extended them. The large balls of grapefruit swayed violently in the wind and he struggled to keep it steady on his head. He peered at the sky. The clouds looked as if they were folding batter in a mixer. Styles knelt on the curb next to a parked car and waited. He peaked his head out and saw a 1984 Astrostar minivan approached. Orville took a deep breath and then, with all his might, he jumped straight into the vehicle.
The minivan screeched. As Styles rebounded off the automobile, a bolt of lightening struck his left antennae.
"Wow," Styles said, while lying on the ground. Instead of feeling burnt out from this lightning bolt (as one would expect), he felt rather energetic - as if it charged him up. Styles approvingly patted his groin area (where his lotto ticket was) as he ran down the street yelping happily. It immediately quit raining.
"Yahoo!" he yelled, though it wasn't particularly loud. He began to skip toward Rusty's Bingo Parlor, where him and his bingo buddies gather as the lottery numbers are announced every day.
He skipped not twenty times when he found a shiny penny lying on the ground. He abruptly halted to pick it up. He cheerfully placed the penny inside his breast pocket, smiled, and continued to skip. Then he ran across a lone four-leaf clover, which was peaking out of a crack on the sidewalk.
"Why hello little guy," Styles said while using his index finger to lightly pet it. When he stood up, a wedding bouquet landed in his hand from the chapel behind him.
"Here guys!" Styles yelled throwing the bouquet into the crowd of desperate women wearing large hats and pink clothing. At that moment, a bridesmaid (who was very, very, very, very, etc. cute) winked seductively at Orville.
"Sorry, honey," he said with a suppressed smile. "I've got to go to Rusty's to meet my friends." Styles skipped onto a busy street where the most unlikely, miraculous, and otherwise lucky event occurred: the cars didn't run him over.
"Hey guys!" Orville said as he sat at his friend's severely dented table.
"Quiet," Travis whispered in a phony Texas accent and was clad in a plaid shirt, sneakers, and a cowboy hat. He was one tile short of a bingo.
"G-34," said Fran the number caller.
"Bingo!" Travis exclaimed in a phony Texas accent. "Ah fanally gawt mahself a bingo! Yeehaw!" Travis gathered his board and scampered to Fran. However, he was quickly redirected to his seat.
"Aw shucks," Travis said as he returned to his seat.
"You do realize, Travis, that you must have five tokens in a row in order to justify a bingo," David said adjusting his square, black rimmed specs, wallowing in his perceived intellectuality.
"Well they are in a row," Travis said while his index finger followed a crooked line.
"See, my friend, it has to be a straight line, like so," David said as he demonstrated where the multiple, correct bingo wins are.
"Guys," Orville politely interrupted with a shy smile, "I have that feeling today - I am going to win the lottery."
"Ah know," Travis said with a carefree aura. "Ah've got that feelin too, I do."
"No," Orville said, nearly trembling with excitement. "I KNOW I'm going to win tonight."
"I doubt it," David said. "You're more likely to be hit by lightning and run over by a car at the same time."
"I know," Orville said, suppressing a laugh. "That's what I just did!"
"Gee golly!" Travis exclaimed.
"You're lying," David said. "And besides, the odds of getting run over by a car and struck by lightning certainly won't increase your odds of winning the lottery."
"You don't understand David," Orville said. "I'm on a lucky streak. Just watch this!" Orville approached Fran the number caller and purchased a bingo board and some tokens. He sat down and began to play bingo. Fran called four numbers.
"Bingo!" Orville exclaimed. David leaned over to look at Orville's board. Sure enough, there was a single row of tokens stretching diagonally across the board.
"Aw shucks," Travis said. "Ah almost had that one, too."
Travis, David, and Orville huddled in front of the Rusty's television set along with a half-dozen hopeful lottery players as Greg Philpes, local celebrity and lottery ticket announcer spun the wheel.
Travis clutched his cowboy hat with intense anticipation - even David was somewhat convinced of Orville's lucky streak when they heard on the 4 o'clock news, that the world's first transatlantic flight manned by a pig landed in Paris today.
Greg Philpes began to spin the lucky lotto wheel, a moment which tradition dictated that it was time for Orville to remove the ticket from his underpants.
"32," Greg announced.
"Yep," Orville said.
"I've got it! I've won the lottery!"
Everybody in Rusty's Bingo Parlor (including Jane the number caller) shrieked with the thought that they actually know somebody who just won the lottery. David was smiling with suppressed excitement as Travis gave a high pitched, cowboy scream and repeatedly slapped Orville's back. The other individuals in the parlor formed a crowd around New York's newest multi-millionaire - which has been becoming increasingly rare after the dotcom bubble burst.
Orville smiled shyly and kissed his lottery ticket.
"Well guys," Orville said timidly. "It looks like I have a jackpot to claim."
"Hear that?!" Travis exclaimed in an over-exaggerated volume. "He's gonna claim his money now! Yeehaw!"
The crowd cheered as Orville skipped out of the door onto the street to head toward the television studio.
Rupert Cliffe, a bald butcher at the back of the crowd, opened every shop door along the way and screamed the good news at the customers, most of whom quickly ran outside to follow the group. As gossipy New Yorkers heard the news through telephone calls, cheers could be heard from apartment dwellers who stuck their shoulders out of their windows and were waving their arms about.
"Yeehaw!" Travis exclaimed, skipping alongside Orville.
"It's amazing what a traffic accident and little lightning can do. Yahoo!" Orville yelped merrily, who began to skip higher.
"What the?!" cried Gordon Levitt who was painting a storefront as Orville skipped under his ladder.
"You just went under a ladder," David said smiling to Orville. "Wouldn't it be weird if--"
The oncoming crowd baffled workers of Shipley's Moving Company as they were trying to fit a grand piano through a window on the 12th story. Unfortunately, a pigeon pooped on James Gratis's arm, which caused him to lose grip on the piano. It swung away from the building only to crash back into its side. The rusty chain from the crane gave way as it headed directly downward to where Orville was skipping.
He was squashed as the piano played a harrowing chord.
Orville found himself in a hot, hot place. There was an ugly red guy peering sinisterly into Orville's eyes. All around him, he could hear painful screams of agony.
"What happened?" Orville asked an ugly red guy.
"You're dead," he responded. "You're mine now."
"I don't understand. Everything was going great," Orville said, disappointed. It started to snow. "What's going on? This place is turning white."
Eternity's damned began to figure skate.
"I'll get you for this, Styles," the ugly blue guy said while his teeth chattered.