Finish Reading this Letter
I’m fixing to finish reading this letter from my Cousin Elroy.
Unless you live out in Apt-To-Miss, Georgia, I’m fairly confident you have read, or been informed, of Elroy’s action upon being confronted with a few of the results from his bad habits, and how he had run off down to the Gulf Coast, after which he had written me this letter, which I quoted the first lines last week of about how he wrote that he had learned a lesson from his previous behavior and how he was rehabilitating himself.
With your blessings we’ll take up there and report what other information he relayed.
I got really excited when I read that he had had one of his spells of apprehension, and when he had one of those, something really big always happened within a few days of the onset. One time after one of his spells he had won two tickets to the Super Bowl.
But it wasn’t always something pleasant following one of the spells. There was also a time after one of them when his 1989 Thunderbird had exploded and burned to a crisp. Fortunately, he wasn’t in it at the time.
He continued by writing that he thought I ought to get on down there as soon as I could, and that he was working at the Waffle House right on the corner of where Gulf Shores State Parkway came to a dead end at Beach Boulevard, and that he was staying at the State Park Motel about a mile down on the right in room 211 of Section B.
I considered Elroy’s invitation and wondered if it meant that misery loves company or if he really had had one of his spells of apprehension. After a great deal of contemplation I figured the best thing for me to do was get on down there quick like. Because if something great was going to happen I wanted to be a part of it, and if it was something bad Elroy might need a helping hand.
The letter was dated Monday, March 31, 1994, and today, the day I received it was Wednesday. It didn’t take me long to get my affairs in order. All my work was freelance and it wasn’t like I would be leaving anyone in the lurch, so about mid-morning on Thursday, I hit the road toward those southern breezes.
It was late in the day when I passed that Waffle House where Elroy had said he was employed, and it only took me about five minutes to arrive at room 211. Elroy was waiting on me in the room with two big double beds and a cooler full of cold beverages. The sliding glass doors of the room were open and from which there came the smell of the salty air and the sound of the roar of the breakers on that sugar-sand beach.
He reported to me that nothing had happened yet but that he was having some strong tremors indicating that something big was gonna burst loose real soon.
We rested that night and when I woke up Friday morning the room was empty. I knew Elroy had already gone to work so I took a little time to settle into the room, but before I left to go have the great breakfast he had promised me last night, I opened my brief case to take out some of the cash I kept stashed in it. When I did that I noticed there was an old lotto ticket that I had purchased about three months ago.
Upon inspection of it I noticed the numbers were 5-10-12-18-21-41, and that the jackpot had been at 40 million bucks when I had bought it. I threw it into the little trash can beside the vanity and left with hash browns and scrambled eggs on my mind.
When I arrived at the restaurant I took a seat at the counter and Elroy slid a steaming cup of coffee under my nose and told me he would have my breakfast up shortly. But before he returned to his grill he produced a copy of yesterday’s Atlanta Journal Constitution newspaper and told me some folks from Atlanta had left it earlier.
I skimmed through the sports section to see how the Braves were doing in spring training, and was just before discarding the newspaper when a small headline caught my eye. It read: “Forty Million Dollar Lotto Winning Ticket Expires Friday.”
Doggone if I’m not out of space again, so this is fixing to be continued.