Fowl Luck
Marco sat on the park bench and threw bread to all the ducks who waddled by. He got a rush out of silently betting on which duck would make it to the bread first, and it was always the giant white one who didn’t seem to look much like a duck at all, but it didn’t matter –– the ducks were the real winners and Marco was out of bread. He sat back and pulled his cigarettes out along with the lottery ticket he bought with them. That, with the bread, was the last of his money.
The ducks began to surround him as he pondered what numbers he would use in this month’s lottery. His birthdate, of course. That’s what he used for all of his gambling endeavors. It didn’t matter that he’d always lost –– he was convinced his luck would turn around at any moment. He finished filling out the numbers with the bank’s pen and waved before his fowl friends.
“I feel really good about this one!” he cried. “If I win, gourmet bread for everyone!”
The big white duck waddled up to Marco and snatched the lottery ticket out of his hand. All the other ducks tried to get a piece of it and tore it to shreds before him. It laid on the ground in small white pieces.
Marco shot up and stormed into the crowd of ducks causing them to scatter away, quacking and squawking leaving behind only their green and white droppings.
