Lotto

Jackie had a bee in his bonnet about gambling. Living on the rough side of town, he could see so much pain and misery brought about by the surplus of betting shops in his district. Even when the pandemic lockdown came, the bookmakers shifted their business model to being entirely online, offering odds on such niche sports as Vietnamese table tennis and Russian soccer matches. Yet Jackie couldn't see a positive to gambling.

But, every Wednesday and Saturday evening, the national lottery would come around offering a glimmer of hope of financial freedom to Jackie, and millions of other Jackies who don't see it as gambling. It was largely because he never won anything more than another line in the next draw, that the rush of blood of a substantial win never hooked him in. Still the notion that he could be free from the mundane when he hits the jackpot, came weekly.

Every time he played, it was two lines of quick pick, where the lotto computers picked your numbers for you, which statistically made it harder to win, but meant the cashier in the newsagent had one less button to press and might not exude the same level of displeasure at the discommode. Having had a shoot the breeze conversation with his neighbour about the likelihood of winning the lottery, it dawned on him that his odds shorten if he uses the same numbers every time he plays. So, he resolved to picking the winning numbers.

Standing in the lotto kiosk on a Saturday afternoon, he resolved to determine the 6 numbers between 1 and 49 that meant most to him. The numbers that would almost signify his DNA and align with the stars and heavens to be the winning numbers. Well his birthday obviously. 21st of November 1986. So that was 11 and 21. 19 was too generic and 86 wasn't an option. The next was an age number. What was a key age that he had reached in years that had defined him? He got married at 27. "OK so that's 11, 21, 27"

Jackie gazed blankly at a poster of a young man hanging out of a limousine with a Piña colada. Though the poster was directly in front of him, his mind was numbers and he didn't see it. Its 2020, there must have been a year in the last 20 that is significant? 2016! That's when all the celebrities died, that has to be a major number. "11, 16, 21, 27!".

He looked at his watch. 3:15. That was it. In the space of 1 minute and 10 seconds, Jackie had mapped out the biorhythmic numbers which were the key to his future. 3, 11, 15, 16, 21 and 27. These would now be his numbers until such time as they secured his multi-million win. These and a line of quick pick of course, because the minimum play in a draw was two lines.

For the rest of the day, Jackie had an air of confidence in that he was sure his complex numerology was going to procure success in some form or another. And then it was 8 o clock, time for the draw.

He sat down as they came live from studio 5, complete with the independent observer. The compare dazzled as the balls rolled. The first number came up, 9. What was 9? Where was the significance of 9? And then the next number, 5!

Of course! 9th of May, the birthday of Jackie's long-suffering wife. Long suffering in as much as you can be after 7 years of marriage. There were still 4 numbers to go, potential to recoup the cost of the ticket and a bottle of Pissaro. 20 came out, followed moments later by 4.

Jackie smirked at the irony of the fact that the clock on the wall said 4 minutes past 8. 20:04. The balls rolled on, there was still 2 numbers to go. There was no winning here, but Jackie, stuck it out in a perverse process of denial that he would come up trumps in the secondary draws. "16 . . . and finally 27" came the telly. Jackie had 2 numbers but that was as far as it went. The follow-on draws proved fruitless. "I'm glad I'm not an addicted gambler!", he thought to himself.

The next week, Jackie went back to 2 lines of quick pick (plus the bonus draws!)