“With a bonus number of ten.”
Clive stared at the television. He punched in Oliver’s number.
“Yeah”, a gruff voice answered.
“We won the bloody mega lottery!”
“What’s that you say?”
“The bloody lottery ticket you drove me mad to buy!” Clive cried out.
“You mean the big drawing?”
“YES!!! The big drawing!” Clive was ever amazed by Oliver’s slow wittedness.
As he paced, the lottery ticket fell to the floor. Othello, the Siamese, batted at the ticket as it fluttered in the air.
“Oliver! Focus! Three hundred twenty seven million! They say there is one winner! Oliver! We are that winner!”
“Clive, what is it you are saying?”
“I’m saying you are an idiot. If you don’t get your arse here pronto, you will be the ‘poor sibling’!”
Clive was convinced Oliver had been dropped on his head, more than once.
Clive looked down at the ticket. An empty hand looked back at him.
“Shite.”
Othello trotted out of the room with the ticket clamped between his teeth. Clive dialed Oliver.
“Othello has the ticket!! Get here as soon as you can!”
“What’s that you say?”
“I say mum should have stopped after me! Now are you going to help with this ticket or do I keep all the winnings?”
“On my way. How’d he get the ticket?”
“Never mind how he got it!”
Othello took a leap over the fence at the property’s edge. Clive took the hurtle of the fence with a grunt. Oliver heard the crash.
“Clive?”
Oliver ran through the yard. He looked over the fence at Clive in the middle of Mrs. Windsor’s prize rosebush.
“Have a death wish do you Clive? Old lady Windsor will have your hide when she sees this.”
“Oliver? Go. Find. That. Cat!”
“Oh, right.”
Clive, thorns sticking in him, groaned, “Idiot.”
“I see him Clive, I see him!”
Oliver, on the portly side, hitched his pants as he ran. He was almost to the branch Othello was on when he heard a crack. Othello watched as Oliver hit the garbage dumpster.
“You idiot! He’s headed for the fish pond at the park!”
The two limped at a fast trot toward the park.
“You go around that way, I’ll go this. Then we will jump him.”
Clive would later wonder why he thought this was a good idea.
They rounded the pond as planned, found Othello and jumped him. They saw stars when their heads collided.
“Clive! Othello dropped the ticket! Look!” Oliver grinned from ear to ear as he held up the soggy mess which was once a lottery ticket.
Hopefully, as he began pulling goldfish out of his pants, Clive said, “Are you able to read those numbers?”
“Yes I can. This ticket, that you’ve had me running about for? It’s from last week!”
Clive opened his mouth; closed it again. He stood up. As he walked, he squished. He shook head in disbelief as he walked home, no richer than when he left.
