[Part Six]
Chuck walked around his new home. It was a mansion in the exquisite, exclusive and extremely expensive hills of Beverly Hills. In the driveway was a brand new cream colored Bentley, fully equipped with a dad player in the dash board. Next to that was a red Ferrari and a black Jaguar. He'd spend half of his original five million dollar fortune on the cars and house alone, but it's all worth it.
He was now worth eight figures. He'd placed the other half of his fortune in smart investments, from a computer company that produced processing chips, to a fledgling studio, which originally need financial support but now produced three highly rated shows.
"Hey Chuck," Gary said as he laid in a lawn chair by Chuck's fully heated in door pool.
"Hey buddy," Chuck sat by the pool with his feet dangling in the water. "Isn't this great?"
"Yeah... I'm so glad you persuaded me to give up on that paper, but I'm still not sure about this job as an underwear model..."
"Are you kidding... You're making me a fortune and I believe in sharing the wealth, especially with my best bud... You know what... I think I donate half of it to a charity..."
---
Chuck woke up with a start. "Scottie Pippen's number... It was thirty-three..." he whispered as it finally came to him. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp on the night stand, and looked around. Disappointment filled him as he realized that it was all a dream. He wasn't a millionaire, but a stockbroker with big dreams of fortune and fame. "THIRTY-THREE!!"
His thoughts began to drift on what happened after he exited from Gary's mind. After getting out of the water, Chuck sprinted to the nearest store which sold lotto tickets.
"I wanna buy a lotto ticket," he huffed running into the store dripping wet. He would have made it there faster if it weren't for the wait of all the swimming equipment he were wearing, but it never occurred to him to take it off on the way there. The clerk said nothing about Chuck's attire or about the puddle that was forming at Chuck's feet as water dripped off from his wet suit. It seemed like it was an everyday occurrence to him.
"Um... Sure, all right." The blond lanky blond clerk walked over to the machine. "But you heard right?"
"What?"
"That the jackpot isn't as large as it was last night. One person one the 25 million last night but they haven't stepped forward to claim their money yet. The person bought it right across the street at that convenience store. That's why the press is still out there."
Chuck remembered yesterday's incident with the lotto ticket and it still hurt. He couldn't believe that Gary tore up the winning ticket.
"Hey ... you going to buy a ticket?"
He could picture what happen to the ticket's remains after they hit the concrete. It was now probably part of some pigeon's nest.
"Hey, you need to hurry up. This machine shuts itself off at a certain time. If you don't give me the numbers quickly, I won't be able to process your ticket."
"Okay, okay ... the numbers were three ... fifteen ... twenty-one ... twenty-seven and fifty-one..."
"One more buddy... Hurry up you have ten seconds."
He still couldn't remember the last number. It was on the tip of his tongue. Chuck couldn't think with the added pressure of the clerk telling him he had only ten seconds to go. A large fortune was in his grasps but he couldn't have it due to the fact he couldn't remember one number. With five number he would have a small fortune. Chuck decided that was more than he had earlier in the day. "Just give me any random number then..."
"Too late..."
"What?"
"You took too long. It's too late. The machine locked me out. Sorry..." The clerk looked at him apologetically. "I told you to hurry up. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No," Chuck said sullenly. His fortune was gone. There would be no tropical island in a warmer climate. There would be no beautiful but scantily clad women hanging around with him pool side. There would be no mansion, flashy cars and other luxuries. It was all gone.
"I'm really sorry."
Slowly exiting the store, he walked down the street ignoring the snide comments from pedestrians as they gawked at his present attire. He didn't care. All he could think about was the money. Cold and tired he headed home and to bed, wishing that this day never happened.
---
Chuck sighed again. It was now 4:30 a.m. Shaking his head, he shut the lamp off, laid back down and went back to sleep.
---
Chuck walked around his new home. It was a mansion in the exquisite, exclusive and extremely expensive hills of Beverly Hills. In the driveway was a brand new cream colored Bentley, fully equipped with a dad player in the dash board. Next to that was a red Ferrari and a black Jaguar. He'd spend half of his original five million dollar fortune on the cars and house alone, but it's all worth it.
He was now worth eight figures. He'd placed the other half of his fortune in smart investments, from a computer company that produced processing chips, to a fledgling studio, which originally need financial support but now produced three highly rated shows.
"Hey Chuck," Gary said as he laid in a lawn chair by Chuck's fully heated in door pool.
"Hey buddy," Chuck sat by the pool with his feet dangling in the water. "Isn't this great?"
"Yeah... I'm so glad you persuaded me to give up on that paper, but I'm still not sure about this job as an underwear model..."
"Are you kidding... You're making me a fortune and I believe in sharing the wealth, especially with my best bud... You know what... I think I donate half of it to a charity..."
---
Chuck woke up with a start. "Scottie Pippen's number... It was thirty-three..." he whispered as it finally came to him. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp on the night stand, and looked around. Disappointment filled him as he realized that it was all a dream. He wasn't a millionaire, but a stockbroker with big dreams of fortune and fame. "THIRTY-THREE!!"
His thoughts began to drift on what happened after he exited from Gary's mind. After getting out of the water, Chuck sprinted to the nearest store which sold lotto tickets.
"I wanna buy a lotto ticket," he huffed running into the store dripping wet. He would have made it there faster if it weren't for the wait of all the swimming equipment he were wearing, but it never occurred to him to take it off on the way there. The clerk said nothing about Chuck's attire or about the puddle that was forming at Chuck's feet as water dripped off from his wet suit. It seemed like it was an everyday occurrence to him.
"Um... Sure, all right." The blond lanky blond clerk walked over to the machine. "But you heard right?"
"What?"
"That the jackpot isn't as large as it was last night. One person one the 25 million last night but they haven't stepped forward to claim their money yet. The person bought it right across the street at that convenience store. That's why the press is still out there."
Chuck remembered yesterday's incident with the lotto ticket and it still hurt. He couldn't believe that Gary tore up the winning ticket.
"Hey ... you going to buy a ticket?"
He could picture what happen to the ticket's remains after they hit the concrete. It was now probably part of some pigeon's nest.
"Hey, you need to hurry up. This machine shuts itself off at a certain time. If you don't give me the numbers quickly, I won't be able to process your ticket."
"Okay, okay ... the numbers were three ... fifteen ... twenty-one ... twenty-seven and fifty-one..."
"One more buddy... Hurry up you have ten seconds."
He still couldn't remember the last number. It was on the tip of his tongue. Chuck couldn't think with the added pressure of the clerk telling him he had only ten seconds to go. A large fortune was in his grasps but he couldn't have it due to the fact he couldn't remember one number. With five number he would have a small fortune. Chuck decided that was more than he had earlier in the day. "Just give me any random number then..."
"Too late..."
"What?"
"You took too long. It's too late. The machine locked me out. Sorry..." The clerk looked at him apologetically. "I told you to hurry up. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"No," Chuck said sullenly. His fortune was gone. There would be no tropical island in a warmer climate. There would be no beautiful but scantily clad women hanging around with him pool side. There would be no mansion, flashy cars and other luxuries. It was all gone.
"I'm really sorry."
Slowly exiting the store, he walked down the street ignoring the snide comments from pedestrians as they gawked at his present attire. He didn't care. All he could think about was the money. Cold and tired he headed home and to bed, wishing that this day never happened.
---
Chuck sighed again. It was now 4:30 a.m. Shaking his head, he shut the lamp off, laid back down and went back to sleep.
---