Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Has More Hunches Than Puppy Jack (On His Favorite Cat)

Greetings, my loyal audience. Tonight we delve into the inner workings of the woman behind the myth. Pinpoint the organ of Mrs. HM from where luck flows like water from a broken spigot. Like sweat from the palms of the #1 Son's hands. Like hard-earned money from the checking account of Farmer H at The Good Feet Store.

It originates in thin air, my friends. That luck comes from Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's head. Not that her skull is empty, of course. Or that anything about her is thin. The luck finds Mrs. HM's gray matter. It flows across nothingness, like the internet, and gives suggestions. Not so much suggestions as commands. Like that time I bought a $100 scratcher winner at a convenience store I've only been in once or twice, and that being a couple years ago.

Today I had another hunch. It's actually been a building-up kind of hunch. For about a week and a half, I've been compelled to stop by the new Waterside Mart and get a certain lottery ticket. I have forsaken the $5 tickets lately in favor of the high-dollar Golden Ticket. It seems to be working for me, what with a plethora (six) of $100 winners for me since January. But the hunch keeps telling me to buy an older $10 ticket. It came out in December of 2015. I didn't like it much back then. Didn't win much. But when I think about where I'm going to buy my lottery tickets, that keeps popping into my head. THAT ticket, from Waterside Mart. To be fair, only a couple of stores sell this ticket right now. But my hunch is always about the new Waterside Mart and this ticket. I've bought two there, with less than stellar results. But I keep thinking I need to buy that ticket.

Today, I stopped and got one. I started to pull in on my way to the main post office hub to mail the boys' letters. I had taken a side street there after getting my gas at the Casey's where people block my handicap ramp to get air. A weirdo in a small white car coming out of the parking lot almost collided with a law-abiding black truck while I had my signal on. THEN the weirdo in the white car angled over and took up my access to the parking space I favor. So I kept going, up to the stop sign, and made my left to head to the post office. I could get a ticket on my way back through, I figured.

Two men ahead of me in line were cashing out tickets and buying more. The little old lady checker I got finally stapled the receipt to the previous winners I cashed in. And I told her what tickets I wanted. The guy on my right, with the speedy girl checker, was making his selections while my old lady was on her knees getting my tickets. I'm pretty sure she hates to wait on me. One day she almost passed out while bent over getting them. Said the blood rushed to her head. I don't know if that man was going to buy one of these tickets...but if he was, too bad, so sad. My old lady got mine first.

I'm glad she did.

Gotta follow your hunches, people. Responsibly, of course.