| Chapter 5 |
| The Book of Je |
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| Copyright 2003 KPUT Komedy Ink. All rights reserved |
| 'Dear God,' Joe prayed internally from the passenger seat, 'Thank you for watching over Enid and myself as we drive to the California lottery district office in Van Nuys. If this was a TV movie, I could just imagine there being a blazing car accident where one of us would be roasted until we resembled briquettes and the other would be thrown clear with the ticket. "They won the lottery but lost everything else," the tag line would go. Anyway, thank you for not allowing that to happen thus far. And if it does happen please let Enid be the one to survive with a minimum of disfigurement. Thank you for this winning lottery ticket. My hand is already starting to sweat, so please keep my sweat from smearing the numbers. Please protect us as we deal with the lottery people. We'll probably have to meet with their hardball lawyers in intimidating conference rooms and they'll hound us to do all sorts of publicity. It could very well turn into a nightmare.' Joe watched Enid's wrist tendons flex and tighten as she accelerated at each stoplight. She always gripped the steering wheel with both hands, yet now she was choking it. The ride remained surprisingly silent, but the passenger assumed that his wife wanted to focus all attention on reaching their destination safely. The lottery office resided in a pink stucco two-story structure. The first floor displayed an aging beauty salon, a dismal pet store, and a clean, flashy barbeque emporium. The second floor held a line of small offices, only one of which sported a small sign hanging from the outdoor walkway: Karaoke Stand-Up Comedy! CDs available! A reflected sun zapped the interior of Enid's sub-compact for a split-second as she drove into the underground parking pen. There were over a hundred empty parking spaces in the subterranean lot, yet Enid parked in a vacant area directly between the ramp and the elevators. She switched off the vehicle, and Joe started to exit when he noticed his wife remaining alarmingly still. "Sweetheart?" Joe said, returning his rump to the seat. "You okay?" Enid glanced at him and took a deep breath, but made no effort to exit the car. "What is it? What are you feeling? Scared? Do you feel scared? Do you wanna, I don't know, tear up the ticket and go home and pretend this never happened? Do you want me to go in? I'll go in by myself if you want; if you don't think you can handle this. Should I- Should I rent you a wheelchair and wheel you up to the office?" "I'm taking a moment, Joe," Enid murmured. "Everything changes after this." "Sure. But, uh, we don't have to have changes today. We could come back tomorrow, put off change until then." Enid remained facing forward as she tapped her temple. "Everything's already changed up here." "Not everything," Joe almost pleaded with a concerned tone. Yet he watched Enid exit the car without acknowledging his rebuttal, almost a zombie devoid of her funny, caring, loving character. 'Everything?' he wondered. He stared at the ticket; a strong desire whispered to rip it apart. If the money had the ability to taint his lover, then there should be no money! His hands would not move. No, Enid might never forgive him. And he might never forgive himself. No winnings meant far fewer trips to Brazil or Sweden to see their children. No winnings meant no legal defense fund for his neighbors. No winnings meant short-term doom for the school children barred from the institution built to embrace them. "Joe!" The troubled man leaned out of the car to see his perturbed wife standing rigid in the doorway of an elevator. "Let's move!" With surprising speed, Joe locked his door, slammed the door shut, and almost sprinted to his wife. He did not enter the elevator. "Not everything," Joe repeated. "Yes, everything!" Enid bellowed. "Including your feelings for me?" "Especially my feelings for you! Now get in the elevator!" "Wha- Wha- How could your feelings for me change? I mean, if the money is going to cause problems between us-" "Joe, I love you even more than I did before. I love that you want to help people with the money. I love that you don't want to go out and throw it all away on boy toys like Italian sports cars and yachts and home movie theaters. I love that you kept me sane when I almost went temporarily crazy from millionaire fever. Now, love of my life, man that I adore more than any other human being in the world, would you please get in the elevator?" Joe gazed upon his wife with tremendous affection. "Sweetheart, I� I� I just don't get why you didn't say that back at the car. Then we could've avoided this scene, an-" "I'm not behaving normally because we're not in a normal situation!" Enid interrupted. "Can we please just forget about what happened at the car and go upstairs? Please?" "Yeah, sure," Joe muttered as he entered the chamber. He thought that Enid's previous statement of tenderness was a tad abnormal, but not undeserving. His partner pressed the "2" button. As the elevator doors joined together, Joe had the sensation of being in a coffin. The urge to block the doors from shutting to avoid some kind of death pinched his brain, then disappeared when the cabin jolted upward. At first the lottery winner wondered why it was going in the wrong direction. 'Dear God,' Joe prayed, 'thank you for getting us to the lottery office injury-free. Thank you for Enid's speech of love that was so perfect. But please help Enid and me now that the reality of the situation is in our faces. We don't really know what the heck we're getting into. We may become millionaires, but help us stay true to ourselves." The elevator doors opened quickly. Instead of moist dirt and ravenous worms, sunlight flooded the square cabin. Enid returned to robot mode as she exited the elevator. Joe extended his left arm out over the pink sandstone stucco walkway but remained inside the lift. "You know, I just had a thought." Enid exhaled loudly as she turned to her husband. "Why don't you tell me outside the elevator?" "I don't think we want to lose the elevator yet," Joe countered. "I just realized that we haven't told one single soul about the ticket or that we were coming to this office." Enid's brow stretched downward. "What does that matter?" "What if we go in there and they pull out a gun and shoot us? Bang, bang. We're dead. Our bodies get tossed into the Sunshine Canyon landfill at 3 a.m. Nobody knows." Enid squeezed her eyes closed as if Joe's hypothesis was the most asinine thing ever uttered. When she opened them again, her gaze and voice struggled with strained patience. "Then why don't we go in and the very first thing you say is, 'We're really good friends with everyone on the L.A.P.D., and they're waiting for us to take them out to lunch. So could you hurry with our check? The S.W.A.T. team is especially hungry.'" The concerned man fluttered a finger across his chin. "Yeah, that could work," he said before stepping out of the elevator and onto the outdoor walkway. The tiny offices on this floor fronted identical generic metal door frames with clear glass panels. Einbinder Pest Control, Backstayge Talent Agency, and Blimmix Investigations also used the same bland capital letters in Ariel font to identify themselves. The California Lottery district office was as non-descript as the others, but an elaborate sign hung in the door, displaying the name as well as a dozen smiling faces from all races, ages, and genders. Joe opened the door for Enid and followed her inside, only to stop after a single step. A scratched and faded Formica counter of yellow and white swirls bounded twelve square feet of floor space covered with threadbare burgundy carpet. Wide stripes of gray hugged bare white walls, and Joe realized that several light bulbs needed replacing. The sole computer may have had modern components on the inside, but the frame reminded the teacher of a 386 machine from fifteen years ago. The only extravagance in the facility was a Coffee Buddy automatic coffee maker holding a carafe blemished with years of mineral deposits. "Impressive," Joe said while nodding. "It looks like all the money goes to the winners." A young, scrawny Hispanic woman wearing no make-up rose from her deteriorating wooden desk and crossed to them, her raggedy sneakers squeaking with every step. "Yes?" "Yeah," Joe began. "We're friends with everyone on the police department, really good friends, and-" "Just show her the ticket," Enid moaned. To the clerical worker, she stated, "We won the lottery." "Oh." The woman remained in an unenthused state as she took the ticket from Joe's outstretched hand. She consulted a piece of paper taped to her side of the counter, and then nodded. Joe noticed a faded coffee stain on the left elbow of her blouse. She placed a sheet of paper and a pen in front of Enid. "Fill out this form." She immediately returned to her desk. Joe peered over Enid's shoulder to see that only each spouse's name, address, phone number, social security number, and signature were requested. Enid quickly filled out the form, then handed the pen to Joe. "John Hancock," she said. Joe leaned over. "Everything changes," he said in a mock-ominous voice, then signed the paper. "Finished," Enid announced. The worker returned, her sneakers audible again. She looked over the document and nodded. "Drivers' licenses?" "Right, right," Joe said as he grappled for his wallet. Enid, clearly expecting this, slapped hers onto the counter. Joe placed his next to his wife's. The clerk scribbled their drivers' license numbers at the bottom of the form and then waved her fingers outward to indicate that she was done. "Give me five minutes." She stepped over to the dusty computer and typed at a frightening speed. "So," Joe said loudly as he slid his license back into his wallet, "where are we going to take our friends on the police force out to lunch?" "You need a new wallet," Enid declared while grimacing at his faded blue nylon and Velcro antique. "You gave this to me," Joe argued. "Sure, it's old in wallet years, but the sentimental value is astronomical." "And that shirt. It's time to retire that shirt." "You picked out this shirt!" Astonishment leapt from Joe's throat. "It was birthday present! It was my only birthday present that year." "That was when Glenda was in college and we were poor," Enid recalled. "We won't be anymore." "Fair enough," Joe agreed. "But before you go any further, don't say anything about my pants, socks, shoes, or my watch. They're fine. Particularly the socks. They're only three years old." "You bought them at a yard sale three years ago." A dot matrix printer started chattering somewhere in the room. "Okay," the woman alerted them. "Your check is ready. Do you want to appear on television?" "Do we have a choice?" Joe questioned. "Yes. The lottery has a new policy. You can appear on television and get the big cardboard check or just take the regular check and go." "When did this policy start?" Joe wondered. "Yesterday," the woman replied as she bent down to rip the check off the printer hidden under the table. "Talk about amazing timing," Joe raved. "No lawyers! No having to smile on television and pretend that everything is great while the rest of the state falls apart!" "Joe, don't toss aside this great opportunity." Enid chided. "Great opper-what? You mean so we can tell the rest of the state that we're rich, so please kidnap one of us and hold us for ransom?" "No, so we can show up at Glenda's new house or Sam's apartment, pop the video in the VCR, and surprise the stuffing out of them." Shaking his head, Joe responded, "Just showing up without calling first will scare the stuffing out of them. You don't need a tape." "I want a memory," Enid declared. "I've been losing all day, and I want everyone to know that I'm now a winner." Joe flinched and leaned over toward the attendant. "Can she go on TV without me, or do we both have to be there?" "She can go by herself," the woman shrugged. "All right," Joe sighed. "You go on the lottery show and get the big check. But tell everyone that you're a widow so that people think that there's no one to pay a ransom." "Why not hire some of your police friends to guard you?" the clerk asked. "That's a great idea," Joe almost roared. "We'll hire security! Then you can go on TV, I don't have to worry about either one of us being kidnapped, and everyone's happy!" The ecstatic man turned to the worker. "What's your name?" "Lupe." "Lupe, thank you so much. You've taken that much of the burden of being a millionaire off my shoulders. Thank you." "Sure." Lupe rapidly tore the guide paper off the sides of the check and handed it to Enid. "Have a nice day." "What about my being on TV?" Enid asked with great concern. "The TV people will call you tonight or tomorrow." "Oh." Enid carefully took the check. "Thank you, Lupe. And you have a nice day, too." Lupe tossed off a half-hearted smile before returning to her desk. Enid looked over the check. "I thought you said 184 million." Joe craned his neck. "I did. Why? What did they give us?" The 'Total' box on the paper stated $196,000,000. "An extra twelve million!" Joe roared. "Awesome!" The winner snorted with laughter when he read the tiny line in red print at the bottom: Not to exceed $250,000,000. "Did you see-" The expectant arched eyebrows on Enid's face shut him up. "Five million plus the additional twelve million equals seventeen million," she informed her husband. "What can you get for seventeen that you can't get for five? And don't throw college educations at me because they're already covered." "New wallets, new shirts, new socks-" "Okay, okay," Joe waved his hands. "Six." "Ten." "Six and a quarter." "Nine." "Six and a half." "Eight." "Six and five eighths." "Seven and a half." "Six and eleven sixteenths." "Seven." "Okay, okay. Seven. But I better see some outstanding socks." After a contented sigh, Enid took her husband's hand. "Come on. Our friends downstairs are probably famished by now." The lunch crowd clogged the road. Enid resumed her tense hold on the steering wheel as she drove to the L.A. Schools Credit Union branch office in Encino. 'Dear God,' Joe thought for the second time, 'thank you for this insane amount of mon-' Enid giggled again. This triggered yet another snicker from Joe. Yet his wife's giggle sounded a little off, a tad forced. He was certain she felt extreme joy, but her vocal expression seemed slightly haughty. 'Dear God,' Joe tried a third time, 'thank you for this insane amount of money. It is far more than-' Giggles leaked from his partner for the third time, but Joe stayed focused. 'It is far more than any human deserves. Please help us as we use this money to do good in the world. Please look over us as we hire security guards to guard us. Please keep us safe when Enid goes on TV and tells the world of our mixed blessing. Please don't let Glenda or Sam find out because it will infuriate Enid if she gets to Sweden or Brazil and the kids already know that we've won the lottery. "How did you find out?" she'll demand. "We get American news here, too," the kids will answer. "You won the largest jackpot ever. It was on every cable and satellite network. And your bodyguards are standing right behind you." But then she'll see Chris and Jennifer, and our beautiful grandchildren will be like valium. Poor Sam won't have it as easy. Without any grandchildren to draw away her attention, He'll have to work much harder to pacify his mother. But thank you again for the children and the grandchildren, thank you for keeping them safe, and please watch over the kids of California while the schools are closed. Help them stay out of trouble, and help me to succeed in buying a way for the school doors to open again.' |
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