Everyday Scott P. Telgan walks into the small little mini-mart at the end of his road and buys one lottery ticket. He uses different numbers each day but he never gets the jackpot sure he has gotten close but now that he is nearing 42 with each missed jackpot it seems that more and more hair were left on his pillow. Never marrying he was lonely living in a suburb he saw all the rich families with the hot wives and he craved for that. If he only could hit that jackpot everything would be different. He always fantasized about how he could finally move out of the small townhouse he lived in, and into a house he would build himself and with a house that big he always thought about how he would fill it with a family. He always sighed as he watched always coming short once in awhile he would have 2 numbers and he would become gitty with excitement only by the third number would his head be in his hands and another lottery ticket would join the others that littered his floor.
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Today was different when he walked into the mini-mart he had a bad day. Nothing went right for this already walked upon man. He shuffled up the counter
“One ticket please.” His voice seemed devoid of hope the cheerful bouncy 32 yr old worker at the mini-mart tried to boost his spirits.
“Same kind of ticket today Mr. Telgan? Today feels like its your day I know it is.” Her cheery voice couldn’t help how Scott was feeling. He wasn’t feeling like he usually did when he walked into the store. Full of pride, full of life and an positive outlook on the hours to come that will decide if he will still be the loser he is or a winner and thrust into a luxurious lifestyle where all his dreams can come true. No he felt lonesome, he knew tonight was the night that either his dreams came true or they weren’t worth dreaming about anymore. Underneath his coat a small bulge was apparent. The women behind the counter did not notice but it was there. The cold steal was pressing up against the skin of Scott. It miles well have been directly poking into his school he knew his odds and Scott knew by the end of the night that cold steal might be pressed up against his skull.
“Yes, you pick the numbers for me though.” At least he could blame his death on someone else than himself he thought as he took the ticket and put the money down on the counter. And just as he entered in a small shuffle he walked out.
It was 10:50 at night and it began to rain outside the evening lottery was about me to be drawn. Scott sat in the only chair that decorated his living room. A leather lazy-boy which would be the only comfort Scott would have all day. The loving touch came from an object in which no love could be given however Scott felt its love. The TV gave off a soft glow as Scott finished his third beer of the night. And stared at the screen next to the three empty beer bottles laid an .38 caliber pistol which was loaded with only one bullet. One bullet that Scott thought would finally make him a winner in death rather than a loser in life. 10:59 neared and tears formed in his eyes. He fumbled around his pocket and with a shaky hand a small ticket is revealed. 5 numbers in which could be his only savior. As the lottery theme came on Scott turned up the volume on the TV. The air seemed stiff the smell of his unkempt house danced around Scott. In one hand he held a ticket his only savior and in the other a gun in which would be is only way out. The balls began to tumble in the machine. Scott pressed the cold steal onto his skull. He began to cry as the first number went up. As it did his finger became closer friends with the trigger as he knew it was ready to help him.
“And the first number is 7” Scott wept and tears filled his eyes as the first number matched the one in the ticket in which was now damp with sweat.
“The next is 9.” More tears came to his eyes. Was tonight finally the night? He asked himself over and over “Could this be my night?”
The next is 2” As the third number was called the weeping was uncontrollable and tears poured out of his eyes over his face. He eased on the trigger and took the cold barrel of the gun away from his scalp. The announcer continued
“The next number is 5.” Tears continued to flow and Scott almost put the gun down his mouth began to drop and his grip tightened around what seemed to be the Savior.
“And for the 45 million dollar jackpot the next number is….” With a sudden surge the power went out. In the dark Scott was left in dumbfounded glory. In the dark all the pain all the stuff he stuffed down inside came back and flashed in front of his eyes. He saw all the rejections and in the soft moonlight he saw the losing lottery tickets that littered the floor. He breathed in deep and smelled the rotten trash smell of his house and knew that his life was worthless. Without hope Scott raised the cold barrel of the gun again to his head. As he pulled the trigger the TV came back on and in the final seconds of his life. Scott saw that he indeed did have winning ticket. However it was to late the bullet exited the barrel of the gun and traveled through Scott’s skull travelling through all the hate that plagued him. Scotts head plopped to one side the gun fell out of his lifeless hand and lied on the floor. His arms went limp and tears dried on his lifeless face.
Beth the women behind the counter walked into her job with excitement. She knew that she sold the winning ticket, However day after day he never came in. After a week she called the police. As the police entered the house of one Scott P. Telgan they were turned back by the stench of death.. In the living room the found him in the only thing that loved him. In the end the truth is that no one missed Scott P. Telgan, and the truth is no one ever will.