The caller insisted that this was a special, promotional lottery somehow selected from ZIP codes or area codes or something like that. Then he began to give me rather elaborate directions about how to verify my winnings and arrange delivery by mail or wire. I won’t recount the details, but I thought, “There’s some potential here for benefiting the readers of this pricelessly cheap column.”

Here’s how my thinking went. I’m a Methodist preacher. My church has historically opposed gambling. Part of the argument rests on the idea that folk ought to work for what they have. Also, the poor tend to suffer most from the downside of gambling. But, I thought, if I should ever get a boatload of money I could give it away to people who need it. Oh, I’d pay off a few bills and give a wad to the church and some charities. But most of it I would give to you, dear readers. I’d devise some scheme to make sure it would only go to folk who actually read this divine drollery.I wouldn’t want any of it to go to people who are too snooty to read this blessed blurb.

It would be wonderful fun to give away all that loot! I’d have a clear conscience for winning all that swag, and make all my friends happy, too. I’d rescue my reputation also because I have never given any of you birthday gifts or Christmas presents. I’m a pretty generous fellow, but you wouldn’t know it if I didn’t tell you. So I listened to the caller.

At about halfway through the call, the Mother Superior of our household came into the room and began overhearing the call. She figured out what it was about and whispered, “How much?” I put my hand over the telephone and whispered that it was millions. She said, “I’d like to buy a shaggy rug to put in front of the bathtub.” I nodded approval. I put my forefinger to my puckered lips so she would lower her voice and enable me to hear the caller’s instructions. He was talking about a $102 administrative fee to get the loot to me.

Well, to make a long story short, eventually I told the caller that I was not interested in pursuing my “winnings.” I only had $100 at the time and I needed to buy a gallon of gas. He asked, “What should we do with your winnings?”

I replied that he could do whatever he wished with them. At that point he told me that I should have something sexual done to me and then I should go to hell. Then he hung up. I did, too. Over the next few minutes the phone rang a few times but nobody said anything when I answered. Then I went online and filed a complaint with The Federal Communications Commission about fraudulent and harassing telephone calls.

But all is not lost. Just now, while I was writing this tale of woe, the mail arrived. In it was a notice from my retirement pension board. It was to inform me that my account had been reviewed and it was discovered that I did not receive a cost of living increase at the beginning of the year. I had been shorted $1.66 per month! So, even though I won’t be able to divvy up more than $2 million in lottery winnings to y’all readers, I’ll be glad to share my $1.66 with you. At least you know my heart is in the right place.

The rest of the good news is that the curse that fellow put on me frightens me not one bit. I have good reason to expect that his eternal destination will be the final curse he tried to put on me.

Harold Bales is a Methodist minister who has already won life’s lottery. Contact him This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .