Everyday Common Weirdo, Or A Bad Omen?

I was in Sis-Town on Monday, on a bank mission to withdraw cash for Farmer H, which he'd spent on the flip house during the month of October. Of course I stopped by the Casey's to cash in some scratchers.

As I parked T-Hoe in my favorite parking space there, next to the striped walkway, a man came around the corner of the store. I swear, for a moment I thought it was a leprechaun leaning on a shillelagh. But no. It was just a withered little man with a twisty gnarled walking stick. He might have been 55, or a rough-life 40 years old. He was holding a 44 oz cup. 

At first I thought he might be begging. I don't like being accosted. Nor even greeted by weirdos. As I stepped out of T-Hoe, scratchers in hand, Weirdo initiated a conversation. That's half the battle, you know, according to a line in Big Daddy.

"Please tell me you have a big winner!"

"Uh. No. I won $45, on these four tickets. Not great, but not bad."

"Yeah. I once won $25,000! But that was twenty years ago."

"Wow! That's better than anything I ever won."

"Good luck to you, ma'am. I hope you get a big winner."

Not that I didn't believe him. Twenty years ago was long enough for him to have spent his fortune. It just seemed odd that a guy like him hanging out beside a Casey's would have won that much. Then again, he might have been a millionaire, with his limo parked a few blocks away, itching to mingle with the common people.

At least Weirdo was gone when I came out. But then starts the tale of bad luck...