Trudging to work on yet another of a seemingly endless cycle of miserable days, Infortunio was dragged further into the abyss of despair with every step. As always, he stopped at the corner store and bought his lottery ticket. He well knew that the odds of winning were considerably less than the odds of being struck by lightning but he needed that small spark of hope to get him through his dismal life. Please God, he thought as he reemerged into the rain, let my number come up. A bolt of lightning struck him dead. Who says prayers aren't answered?