Driving into work that morning, David wondered yet again if his sister, Ellen, had dropped Marvin on his head during his formative years.
“Damn it, Marvin!” David shook his head and raised his eyes to the heavens. “I’ve told you a hundred times at least! There is no such thing as luck! There sure in the hell, ain’t no such thing as a lucky shirt!”
Marvin had a death grip on the armrest, his other hand checking to make sure his seatbelt was secure. He wished every morning and every afternoon that he could get that darn driver’s test passed and drive on his own. He just couldn’t seem to remember what he studied when it came time to take the test. He wondered; not for the first time, if maybe his Mom had dropped him on his head when he was little.
Despite his fear, Marvin tried again to explain his theory of the lucky shirt, that very same lucky shirt he wore that morning.
“I wore this shirt that time I bought that lottery ticket and won 200 dollars! I wore this shirt that night Linda Darnell let me kiss her in back of the school gymnasium! I wore this very shirt the day you hit that home run at the picnic softball game!”
David shook his head again. While in an argument, he had a habit of throwing his head back and casting his eyes heavenward, while he was at the same time driving with his foot planted hard against the accelerator.
“Damn it, Marvin!” David barked. “You probably spent a thousand dollars buying them damn lottery tickets and wore that dirty shirt at least half of those times before you won that $200! Let me let you in on a little secret too, dip wad; you didn’t get the first kiss “Loose” Linda Darnell ever gave and probably not the first that particular hour!”
David stared hard at Marvin’s dingy blue shirt, shaking his head at the pure stupidity of his foolish nephew.
“As for me hitting that home run? That was no damn luck either, especially not damn dumb luck of you wearing that shirt!” David stuck out his chest and resumed watching the road, to Marvin’s relief.
“I happen to be a pretty damn fine baseball player, was no damn luck there!” David turned and glared at Marvin.
The speeding truck flashed through the stoplight and slammed into the back corner of the Camaro and spun it around before Marvin had a chance to finish his argument.
As the battered Camaro came to rest against the telephone pole, Marvin had to point out that he was perfectly fine and unhurt after the truck hit them, while Uncle David obviously had a broken arm and there was some blood flowing pretty good from the gash in his forehead.
“Wow, this is another time! It was a good thing I was wearing my lucky shirt wasn’t it, Uncle Dave?”
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