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There I was, just waiting in line at the check-out counter, when all of a sudden two imposing figures dressed in black and wearing ski masks come running straight down the aisle. Of course, I figure that they had stolen goods from the store and were making a getaway, but unfortunately I wasn’t so lucky. As I leaned away from the line of customers to give the perpetrators more clearance to get by, as he’s passing me, the first man puts all his weight into a blow that lands in my stomach and knocks me to my knees. The second man then rushes over, stretches me out on the floor and picks me up by the ankles; the first man by the shoulders as they proceed to carry me out of the grocers. The next thing I know I’m being thrown into a nearby van as they immediately start with their interrogation.“How did you do it?” the first man barks. I don’t play along; instead I act as if I don’t know what they’re talking about. “How did you make all that money?” he says.
“How did you win the lottery twice in a row?!” His voice is considerably less patient. I tell them both that I think they’ve got the wrong man. Then one of them reaches over to the front seat of the van and pulls out a newspaper. He asks me who the guy in the picture is, the guy on the front page of the paper. To that, I have no answer, knowing full well that it’s me. After a lengthy pause, I tell them that I don’t have any of the winnings on me. Then this man, infuriated, begins to slap me repeatedly with the paper.
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