Blizzard Ball Read Online Free PDF Page A

The one and only BlizzardBall Lottery is on the air. Hi, I’m Mike Frawley. Hope you’re holding the winning Bliz zardBall jackpot ticket. It’ll make your holiday a whole lot brighter. Tonight’s jackpot is worth an estimated $750 million dollars—the biggest jackpot ever.”
    Jessica’s caged African Gray parrot, tucked in the corner of the living room, picked up on the announcer’s elongated consonants and mimicked, “Blizzzzzzzardball, hey Blizzzzzzzardball, hey …”
    “Kiddo, quiet that squawk box down.” Florence motioned to Jessica to cover the bird’s cage.
    “Shut up, goddamnit,” Floyd snapped, his eyes glued to the TV, “or we’ll miss the numbers.”
    “Behind me is the BlizzardBall drawing machine. As you can see, it has two chambers. One with red balls numbered 1 through 59; and one with white balls numbered 1 through 39.”
    “Hey, get on with it. We know how it works, for Christ’s sake,” Floyd yelled at the television as he pulled a cigarette and book of matches from his shirt pocket.
    “Here we go. The first number’s a 10.”
    “I got a ten!” Earl shouted. Maureen stopped washing dishes and turned a sharp ear toward the TV.
    “Even a blind squirrel finds a nut here and there,” Floyd taunted.
    Suddenly, the TV seemed to emit a giant exhale. Balls fell out of suspension and dropped dead to the bottom of the clear acrylic chambers. The tuxedoed Mike Frawley squinted into the camera. Sweat was visible on his brow as he paused awkwardly in what was normally a nonstop, rapid-fire monologue. Frawley touched his ear piece.
    “I have just been informed that there will be a slight delay in the drawing. As soon as the technical difficulties are resolved, we will resume with the one and only BlizzardBall Lottery. Hold on to your tickets. I now turn you back to your scheduled program.”
    “What was that happy horseshit?” Floyd asked. “I’m getting a drink. Someone holler when it comes back on.”
    “Build me one, too,” Florence called after him.
    Earl sat with the lottery ticket squeezed into the vice grip of his large work-callused hand. “Come on, come on,” he mumbled to himself through clenched teeth, staring at the TV.
    “Earl, it’s time for church,” his wife called out.”
    “Go on without me.”
    “Earl, don’t be a pain. It’s Christmas.”
    Earl exploded off the chair. “What, so I can embarrass myself, and this family when the collection plates pass by, and they skip over the poor Swansons. Bullshit!” He turned from his wife and daughter and dropped hard into his TV chair.
    Floyd and Florence fell in silently behind a furious Maureen and left for church.
    Earl sat and waited for the drawing to return, and thought about the financial abyss he was in. He’d get even with those cheap bastards who sold out his mining job to the Chinese. A crack of a smile appeared on Earl’s face as he remembered the dynamite he had smuggled from the mine, secured in a metal box in the basement. He wouldn’t be screwed over again.
     

Cash and Dash
     
    Rafie and Eduardo slipped through the door of the Cash and Dash on a snowy draft and scampered down the grocery aisle like cockroaches under a bright light.
    The clerk looked up to the convex security mirror mounted in a nearby corner and returned to his column of numbers.
    A shotgun blast brought a hiss and a shower of water from overhead.
    “Rafie, what you doing, man?”
    “Taking out the camera.”
    “That’s a goddamn sprinkler head.” Eduardo raised his hand to shield against the torrent of water flooding the store.
    The convenience store clerk ducked below the counter. Unhurt, he caught his breath, gripped a short baseball bat, and sniffed the burnt gunpowder. “Please, no more shooting!” the clerk shouted.
    “No weapons! Stand up!” Eduardo ordered. “What’s your name?”
    “Jamal,” the clerk said as he dropped the club and emerged. His clothes smelled like wet wool. “The register is open. Please,