Two years ago, I got very, very lucky. It started out with attaining higher grades in school, the highest I have ever achieved. Also, I started to thin-out, become stronger and leaner looking and I felt great all of the time. And since gifts such as these are given to you and not somehow “earned”, I had to attribute it entirely to luck like every successful person does. It was at the start of grade nine that it began, but so quickly as it started, my streak of good luck has since ceased to exist.
Before it did however, I found something special. One day after school, something caught my eye; it was a bag of what looked like baking soda, nestled by the base of some bushes down the road from my school. This did not interest me at all, I don’t bake. About fifteen minutes later, I realized I had forgotten something, so I walked back to the school. When I passed the bush, I saw that the baking soda had been replaced by a generous wad of cash. I quickly picked it up and examined it. A note was attached to it saying, “Dear Captain Cook, here is this week’s payment.” This confused me a little, so I chose to ignor it. It ended up being around half a million dollars.
The first week with the money, I was flaunting it everywhere I could. I bought a beautiful sports car and hired a driver to take me to school, I ate at restaurants every time I could and most importantly my luck had changed with the ladies. They were all over me, every single one of them, and I found someone I thought was very special. She sort of got the short end of the stick when it came to brains but she was very attractive and very nice… well to me anyway. I took her out for dinner every night and our main pass-time was shopping, usually together, but sometimes not. I gave her my bank card some days and she would go to the nicest stores in the city to get whatever makes her happy, because when she’s happy, I’m happy.
One day, she and I were walking to the new section of Chinook centre to go clothes shopping. We went into a store and she quickly grabbed five shirts and three pairs of five hundred dollar jeans. She begged if she could have them, as she only had fifty shirts and twenty pairs of jeans. I told her I understood completely and we went up to the cashier. I handed him my card and he swiped it in the machine. He told me it had been denied and cut up my card! I was devastated. I turned around to look at my girlfriend but she was nowhere to be found.
I have lived the rest of my life until now, in complete poverty.
