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Chapter 1: A Fun Book- Called Word Lotto

Chapter 1: A Fun Book- Called Word Lotto

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Published by Tom Brennan
I'm a victim not a fool. A fun and humorous book that will make you laugh. Check out the humor for all 50 chapters.
I'm a victim not a fool. A fun and humorous book that will make you laugh. Check out the humor for all 50 chapters.

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Published by: Tom Brennan on Jul 06, 2010
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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05/11/2013

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Wordlotto ©2007
1
 
Wordlotto ©2007
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1
First I heard a shuffling of feet, then a loud bangingon the door leading to the corridor, and the voice of Joan,the receptionist, calling out.“Mr. Flores! Come back!”Flores
.
Great. I had been enjoying a little breaklooking idly out the window. If I lean forward and left onmy desk, through two ugly gray buildings I can see a sliverof blue ocean. Santa Monica. From this distance it looksinviting and fresh.“Mr. Flores! Can’t you read the sign?” Thereceptionist was trying her best to stall this insect of aman. Authorized Personnel Only – 10,000-Word Fine said thenotice on the door, but I knew she was wasting her time.Flores didn’t care about the fine. He was a man on theedge.“Sorry lady, I don’t mean no trouble, but I have tosee Brennan right now or you’re looking at a dead man.” Henow started banging on my door. “Brennan! Open up, dude.”
 
Wordlotto ©2007
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“I’ll make an appointment for you first thing nextweek, sir.” She insisted, “Please follow me.” If you knewFlores, you would know how futile her polite insistencewas. You see, Flores is a Skid-Row regular. He lives eachday as if it were a lifetime. He doesn’t expect to wake uptomorrow like you or I do. His occupation is rummagingthrough garbage cans looking for discarded lotto tickets.He figures that finding a winning number is his only pathto freedom. So you can see why waiting a week for anappointment was not in his universe. You might as well askan ice cube not to melt in Death Valley.“Mr. Flores, get back here!” The receptionist soundedclose to tears. I took a deep breath, got up and opened thedoor.“It’s all right, Joan, I’ll take care of Mr. Flores.”Usually she has a very professional demeanor, but shewas glad to get rid of the smelly intruder.“They don’t pay me enough for this crap,” she mutteredas she turned on her heels and trotted away in a flash.“It happened again!” Flores says as he slumps hisbony body in my chair, like a starving greyhound. He waswearing his usual, polyester pants, a tatty aloha shirt,and a Playboy hat. All were well stained and grubby. Isuspect he didn’t own a change of clothes.

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