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As soon as I stepped foot inside the store, time slowed down and my body felt heavy, causing me to stop in my tracks. “High” I said almost involuntarily, half saying hi to the store and half acknowledging my condition. I turned my head and saw the cashier standing there. He was literally standing still, like a statue. “High” I said again, in his direction. He wasn’t funny looking or anything but for some reason I found him hilarious. I pursed my lips trying not to laugh but I still teared up, and my whole face looked like that of a kid trying not to laugh at their teacher. I wasn’t laughing at him; it was just a stoner laugh that happened to have been caused by him. I didn’t want him to think I was laughing at him, which made me paranoid. I hid myself between the shelves, I wasn’t fit for society. I grabbed a bag of chips and some random cookies, nothing special, they probably sold them at my friend’s store too. I got in line to pay, knowing full well that I wasn’t gonna be able to face the cashier. If he spoke, I was gonna laugh, there was no way around it.


It was my turn to pay. “Is that gonna be all?” he asked. I didn’t laugh. “Phew” I sighed internally. “Yup, that’s all. Sorry I’m acting weird man, I’m high as fuck” I confessed. The young man slowly leaned towards me, looked sideways and whispered, “you’re not the only one”. He smiled and winked, I laughed and clapped twice. The camaraderie was so intense I could have cried. “Oh man, this was my favorite part of the day” I said. I took out my card to pay and handed it to him. He did his little cashier thing. “Bro I’m sorry, you’re two bucks short to pay with card” he said, pointing to a handwritten in blue ink sign that read “Card Pay min. $5”. “Well that looks official” I said jokingly. I glanced around, looking for something absurd to buy. On top of the counter, they had condoms and lottery tickets on display. “Equally unlikely” I thought out loud. “I’ll take this lottery ticket” I said while I picked it up. “Do I have to choose any numbers or something? I don’t know how this works” I said. “Nah, you just scratch here and see if your numbers came up. This one is valid for tomorrow’s draw, see?” he explained. “Oh, alrite, cool! Thanks man!” I paid. We fist bumped. I left. “Cool dude” I thought.

I had barely left the store when I was struck with the utmost conviction that I was holding the winning ticket. I can’t explain it, but at that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that I had won the lottery. I’m usually extremely skeptical about anything that doesn’t have a scientific explanation, but never in my life had I had a feeling such as this about anything, so I had no option but to believe that it was true.


Carrying what undoubtedly was a winning lottery ticket in my pocket, I skipped towards another friend’s house where I was informed a pre-game was going on.


At my friends house, my premonition was initially met with laughter, mockery and insult, but the conversation shifted quickly into a calculation of how much should I give to each of them if it turned out to be true. Even though I knew we were just joking around, there was something slightly disturbing about the way their eyes lightened up when, after the fourth whisky, I promised cars for everyone.

Six hours and seven old-fashioneds later, I found myself alone at the bar. I still had some battery left in me, and even though I’m not one to enjoy being alone in such environments, extending the night increased the chances of something interesting happening, while going to bed reduced it to near zero. 

There was only one restroom in the bar. I got in line. In front of me stood a bald fat man. Soon after, a beautiful girl got in line right behind me. She had her whole body covered in tattoos which gave her an extra appeal in my view. I put my hand in my pocket to feel the lottery ticket between my fingers. It was my turn to enter the restroom. I don’t know if the confidence came from the ticket or the Old Fashioneds, but without much thinking I gestured to her “wanna come in?” To my surprise, she accepted my invitation. We entered together and I let her go first. She sat in the toilet with her legs crossed, pulled up her skirt, and pulled down her panties; “look away!” she said. “No way, I wanna see” I answered while I watched her from the corner of the room. It looked like she was enjoying my watching her. I found the whole scene to be so hot, and at the same time I thought how weird it was that I never liked being in the restroom when my ex-girlfriend was peeing. But this was different. This time, I was in a movie. And I was both the director and the protagonist. She finished, got dressed, got up, and flushed. My turn. I stood in front of the toilet, unzipped, and again the nasty director took hold, “do you wanna see what it feels like to pee like a man?” I asked her. She laughed in astonishment and thought about it for a couple of seconds. Without saying another word, she stood behind me, wrapped her arms around me and held my dick gently with both hands. I peed. She kissed me on the cheek from behind and left. It was one of the hottest experiences of my life. “Should I have gotten her name or something? Should I go look for her in the bar? Should I have tried to fuck her?” To all those questions I answered a categorical “No.” The moment was perfect, and perfect it shall remain. “A name will ruin it. A date will ruin it,” I concluded. 

I went home. What a day. What a night.

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