If I Won the Lottery…There Would Be Signs

I’d be tight-lipped about it, but you might be able to tell…

May 15, 2025

I play the lottery. Yes, I know the astronomical odds, and that I’m more likely to be struck by lightning on my way to cash in the ticket. I play anyway. I love the glorious period between spending $5 on a ticket and the weeks later when I remember to check it.

That’s the sweet spot, where in my head — I’m Schrödinger’s lottery winner.

The world is my oyster during that time, even if it’s all just an elaborate play in my head. But my world is just an elaborate brain farce anyway; I’m a comedy writer. I don’t care that odds are less towards me striking it mega rich, and more skewed towards me being in an insane asylum spelling this out in alphabet soup.

If…*ahem, when I win (manifestation, or whatever), I won’t tell a soul. I don’t suddenly need errant family members and friends forgotten for a reason suddenly coming out of the woodwork.

But when I win, there would be signs…

First off, I’d be riding a unicorn instead of a 2001 Toyota Corolla. Either I paid a mad scientist to boondoggle one together, or I glued a rainbow dildo onto the head of a Clydesdale.

Next up, my behaviour may become erratic because I’ve replaced my Great Value instant coffee with Escobar-graded cocaine.

You may see news headlines that my local dog shelter had 100% of their dogs adopted and now sits empty. Ahem, it wasn’t me. Definitely don’t come visit my new palatial lands, where I’ll be racing my new flock of canines — winner gets the fanciest and biggest Beggin’ Strip (that I had custom made).

Of course, it’ll be hard to reach my new abode, since it will be surrounded by a moat. That moat may or may not be filled with sharks with frickin lasers on their heads. No, the dogs won’t swim in it, because not a single one will ever want to leave. Also, they’ll have their own pool and jacuzzi.

My new home will have secret passageways and slides instead of stairs.

Please try to ignore the fact that I suddenly start arriving at events in either the Batmobile or a hot air balloon. Mind ya business. And you’ll never see my new mega yacht full of quokkas and hedgehogs. It will be parked in the Bermuda Triangle so none of you can find me.

I’d start having money fights, and with bills this time. Coins hurt.

Another surefire sign that I’ve entered the braggaodciously rich class would be that my stories here would get weird. Ok, weirder. They’d suddenly involve those private rooms on Etihad Airways while travelling to the Maldives, I’d replace Katy Perry on the next dickmobile trip to the stratosphere, and I’d be doing all sorts of elaborate sidequests, like finding nearly extinct species.

Although possibly the biggest sign that I’ve hit it big is that you’d see me walking around with my iPhone not in a protective case. Gasp, I know right?

Anyhoo, so far my 247th attempt at winning the lottery has once again proved unfruitful. However, I look at it like Edison, and I’ve just found 247 ways not to win the lottery.

If I do the magical math for my 1 in 33,294,800 odds of winning the lotto — those odds upto just 1 in 33,294,553 now!

Dildo-headed unicorn and moat money, here I come…

Buy my Next Schrödinger’s Lottery Ticket

I’d absolutely love your support at any level that’s comfortable for you…

$1 per month / $10 per year
$2 per month / $20 per years
$3 per month (etc)
$4 per month (etc )
$5 per month (full price because I’d be dumb not to include it)

Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither (YET!), and I still love you.