You know what’s not funny? Getting a lottery scratch off ticket as a gift and believing you’ve won “Mountains of Cash”, only to find out that you’ve just been made to look like a gullible jackass in front of your family and friends.
On the night I graduated the academy, sometime in another life (February of 1999) we went to a local eating and drinking establishment to celebrate my “accomplishment”. I say that derogatorily only because you really have to be quite an exemplary dumbshit or screw up to not make it through, but that’s for another post.
Anyway, we went to Milo’s On the Hill, because we’re Italian and we like to drink for any reason we can. Most of my family was there, as well as my girlfriend (now my wife) and some other friends as well.
I scratch this stupid ticket off, sort of off to the side of the group on my own (it’s not like a birthday party where there were gifts and we all sat around watching me open them, but some people were kind enough to bring cards) and I’m seeing that I’ve won $10,000! Now that’s not a sum of money that’s going to allow anyone to retire, but for a 25 year old living on his own, it’s a nice chunk of change! Shit, I’d piss myself today, if I won ten grand.
So after I study the little hammers or gold bars or whatever it was that lay hidden under the scratchy offie material, I realize that I’ve really won! It’s not a mistake. I’m not blind drunk yet; I’m really seeing three matching hammers or gold bars or whatever. I jump up and down and start hootin’ and hollerin’ like your typical grade A jackoff when I notice that the fine print says:
“To claim your prize, present this ticket at the Bank of Yo Momma.”
The Bank of Yo Momma? Well that doesn’t sound very professional at all.
Well, grandma can barely contain her smile behind the long neck bottle of Bud Light she’s holding, and I realize that I’ve been duped.
Duped by a 70 year old woman.
Duped by a woman I’ve loved as much as I’ve loved any other person in my life.
Before too long, grandma felt like a heel and we were both miserable, so we drank and drank until we didn’t care anymore.
While I’m sure she only barely remembers duping me that night (no, she’s not senile), I remember it vividly. I’ve never been so happy and then suddenly so let down in such a short period of time. It really is a douchebag gift to give to somebody (I can’t believe I haven’t given them out), especially if you’re grandma and nobody expects that sort of gag.
Well played, grandma. Well played. Let’s hope for your sake that I’m not involved in choosing where you live when you do become senile…Bwahahahahahahahahahaha!