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“You are not a winner.” Her voice a mix of Mary and Magdalene, perfected with technology, fine tuned with a marketer’s attention to manipualtive detail, reassuring mother and filthy little whore. “You are not a winner.” Say it again, you fucking bitch. “You are not a winner.” I didn’t know whether I wanted to hug her or fuck her. “You are not a winner.” “Sorry, hon, but looks like none of these are winners,” Charlene said, cluthcing Charlie’s worthless lottery tickets. “Yeah.” It wasn’t her fault, he thought. She’s just a god damn factory worker. A meat slave, like himself, to that talking box. “You don’t look too surprised,” she said, her mouth turned down in a sympathetic frown. “No.” “Don’t take it too hard, hon. Maybe next time.” “Yeah, I’ll be back.” Fuck or hug fuck or hug or fuck or hug. Instead, I decided to take her and settle on the rest later… Charlie had been in the lotto game for a long time. He knew the rules. Always play for fun. Never play with a need to win. Know the odds. Fuck the rules, he thought. This wasn’t about fun. He needed to win. Just this once. He knew the odds were against him but sometimes a man has to do certain things. He had a funny twitch in his gut. But not ha-ha funny. There was only way to make it go away. The machine. Charlie calmly walked up to the window of the Dirty Pines Market wondering just how the hell he was going to get in. He hadn’t thought this thing through too well, but he needed to know what that machine knew. He needed it’s wisdom. It could help him with his funny feeling. He was sure of it. But he approached his fate filled with an animal’s hatred, a low creature’s jealousy for its gleaming smug… He noticed a large rock embedded in the wet grass. He lifted it up revealing a squirming mess of bugs – worms, potato bugs, centipedes. It made his gut twitch with great discomfort. He ground his boot into the damp nest and crushed them. Smash the window. Take that slutty machine. Run. An alarm sounded as he disappeared into the woods. “What do you know? What does it mean? Why is there a twitch in my gut? What is your role in all of this? What is your nature? Why anyhting? What's your name?” The machine sat silent. It had no answers for Charlie. Police sirens were getting closer. If only he had more time, he thought, I’d get the answers I need. His gut twitched something fierce.

Date Written: June 19, 2005
Author: scoop
Average Vote: 2.66667

06/21/2005 Mr. Pony: !
06/21/2005 Friday the Sharkteenth, part AIDS: why you keep switching between third and first person? like, "Instead, I decided to take her and settle the on the rest later… Charlie had been in the lotto game for a long time. He knew the rules." and "If only he had more time, he thought, I’d get the answers I need."
06/21/2005 Mr. Pony: !!
06/21/2005 Mr. Pony (4): Well, I like this just fine, ladies and gentlemen.
06/21/2005 Klause Muppet: I'm not so sure.
06/21/2005 Will Disney: I think my gut may be twitching as well. Is that my gut?
06/21/2005 Klause Muppet (2):
06/21/2005 TheBuyer: Klause, I'm waiting for your comment before I vote. Hurry hard.
06/21/2005 Klause Muppet: Hi there! I agree with Friday's first person/third person comment. Sloppy! Also, found the whole thing to be a little awkward and not funny.
06/21/2005 Templeton Dink: Tell me - does she have a sister?
06/21/2005 anonymous: Unreliable narrator much, you mickey fickeys?
06/22/2005 Litcube: This is an interesting short, Scoop.
06/23/2005 qualcomm (2): i had a real hard time getting through this. still do, i reckon. this is no fun... no fun... no fun. fuck you, author.