Dear Readers,

I wanted to pass on this letter I received (wink wink) asking for suggestions of what needs to be done. All comments and suggestions will be appreciated. 

Dear Zulu,

I was wondering if you have ever “observed” this. Maybe you, or your readers could help. It’s just too much. I don’t know how much more people can take.

So, there I was at the local convenience store. All I needed was to pick up some milk for my family dinner on the way home from work. I took a deep breath, put on my protective cloth mask, and headed into the store. I thought it would only take me 30 seconds to get in and out. As I approached the “please stand 6 feet apart” sticker on the floor, 5 other people seemed to come out of other sections of the store and get in line. Another deep breath. We all seemed to look at each other with the same frustrated look. I know people are very stressed these days; and with good reason. I must give credit to the human spirit (this time). All 6 of us formed a polite and socially distanced line. All of us were thinking of the same thing; take another deep breath, exhale, and in the proverbial blink of an eye, we will be out of the store.

Except we weren’t.

The line was not moving, so I rested my milk down on the back of the frozen food cooler, and leaned over to look at the head of the line. I spotted the problem; a “scratch ticket junkie!”

Do you know this man? He is in his early 60’s or late 50’s (judging from his faded KISS Concert tee shirt with two large holes under the arms and a shrinking front and back that unfortunately no longer covers his stomach or rear end). He is attempting to buy lottery scratch tickets….well, the “correct tickets.” You know the ones; the ones that will pay out a huge amount of money so he can give up his fake disability pension from the city and he can finally live “the good life!” 

But there is only one problem; not picking the correct random ticket, but not as you would think, because, in his mind, the vast majority of the tickets will bring big paydays as he will be buying 17 of them. Not 16 or 18 mind you. So, here is the major problem for him and all of us in line. The store sells 50 different game types of lottery scratch tickets. He can only choose 17 because it’s his lucky number and it makes it easier for his accountant at the end of the year to tally up his gambling losses and deduct them from his lack of fortune.

So now, he leans against the cashier counter at “rush hour” agonizing over which scratch tickets to buy; as if he was in one of those cop movies, and they can’t decide to cut the red or the blue wire on the bomb. We won’t get into the false start choice selections and subsequent return to the main lottery roll at this time. Serious decisions.

I’m not sure what happened next, but when I regained consciousness, I was lying on the floor and the fans at the bottom of the frozen food cooler were blowing hot hair and dust bunnies in my face. I looked around and all of the lottery ticket horrors came back to me. I was about to blackout again when I looked up and to the front. There was nothing in my path, and a young woman at the counter said; “Can I help who’s next? Like Lazarus and Anno Domini,  I leaped up from the “grave” toward the cashier. Just as I was about to reach the counter, a man wearing an old “white” tee shirts with spaghetti sauce all over the stomach and cigarette holes on the chest popped out of isle 7 going the wrong way, and grazed in front of me; “What scratch tickets do youze git here?”

I’m presently curled up in the fetal position in the corner of the store over by the blue windshield washer fluid and writing this note on paper towels with a “Slim Jim.”

Can you or any of your readers help me??? Please!!

Signed,

“Weary in Woonsocket”