Well, I found the rotten way. It's not that

Well, I found the rotten way. It's not that you only live once, it's that you only live stupid.

And if some day you try to find a better way, chances are the currents of habit will snap your soul in half. "You are quite the optimist" the bar tender replied, pouring me another

fellows who work at the garage where I take my Harley to have the transmission done. Zen and the Art of Nail Care they call the place. Leslie and Hillary sure know how to

deaden a nail. No funerals, just dump them in the East River and drive into Jersey for some cannoli at Mama Leoni's where that got that copper playing gumba. Stuff like that just

get my giblets. People in New Jersey have no respect for authentic Italian inspired American cuisine. Mama Leoni's? What about Papa John's? Who wants to eat REAL Italian when they

hit the mall food court and eat at a Sbarro's? It's a damn disgrace. But still, the money talks...and that's what I was listening to in those days.

"Pssst," said George Washington's face as it winked up at me from the face of a quarter, "collect a few more of me and you can dine at a real swank place." Clearly, I was losing my

sense of time. Leaving 7-11 in the freezing rain I saw the woman from earlier that week. She left the lottery ticket on my porch like I'd asked but I didn't see the kids anymore.

The entire event became one colossal ruse, an organized hit-job, a hoax, perpetrated by someone who stole my winning lottery ticket, murdered their kids, and then just…vanished.