But since lottery winners are famously plagued with financial and familial drama, I think it would be best for me to lay my plans out clearly on this, the last day of my former, middle-class life. You know, because it'll be harder to reach me tomorrow when I'm on the island.
After setting up my family with whatever they need, things like Snuggies decorated with cats and seats on the first commercial space flight, first order of business is investing a major part of my winnings toward improving the Do Not Call Registry-- not only because the political cold calls and Robocall messages make me shiver whenever my phone rings, but because I don't need anyone I ever met pandering for money.
No, I won't pay for your hair plugs, and I don't want to host a Bernie Sanders rally.
Next up, I will have the opportunity to give my boys some of the finer things in life. For me, those things would come in a Tiffany's box, but I am always surprised by what my kids find appealing. So, this morning over breakfast, we had a discussion about what they would like to do with their share of the jackpot.
First I asked Cael.
"What would you want first?"
"A guinea pig, since Santa was mean and didn't bring the one I asked for."
"I hate to break it to you, but even if we won the lottery I still wouldn't want a guinea pig in the house."
"Then I change my answer. I'd buy a person to live in the house and take care of my pets. Or give you two million back to let me keep him."
On second thought, the first thing I need is a lawyer. Maybe Graham will be less conniving.
"What about you, Bubba?"
"I just want the dillion dollars." One more day, little man.
I asked Adler what he wanted, but I'm not sure how to go about obtaining a "tikatikatika pppffttth". I'll check Amazon first-- they sell everything.
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Don't get a guinea pig. I'll never hear the end of it.
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Leave your own "ism". Cael and Graham double-dog dare you.