I’m Fixing To Panic!

I’m fixing to panic!

I remember asking Elroy how it had felt when he had his last spell of apprehension. It was while we were sitting out on our deck last night watching the big breakers come rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico, not even 30 yards away from us.

He had told me it was like one of those powerful waves hitting you and you not even getting wet. Like after it washed up on the beach, the power of it just kept coming and slammed into you and almost knocked you cuckoo.

That’s about how I felt when I read that newspaper story about the 40 million dollar winning lotto ticket that was going to expire today at five p.m.

The story reported that the ticket numbered 5-10-12-18-21-41, had been purchased in early January in Conyers, Ga., and had never been redeemed, and was due to expire 90 days after the purchase, and that was today! Like I had to read that. I knew where it was purchased because it had been me who had done the purchasing.

About this time Elroy approached me with a pot of coffee in his hand, but when he saw the state I was in he said, “Uh oh! It’s happening, ain’t it? What is it?”

I pushed the newspaper toward him and pointed to the article. He skimmed over it quickly and gasped, “That ticket is your’s, ain’t it?”

I numbly nodded my head.

“Where is it?” he inquired.

“I threw it away.”

“You threw it away! When? Where, for God’s sake?”

“A little while ago in the trash can in our room. That ticket expires at five o’clock today. It’s eight-thirty right now, which means I have eight and a half hours.”

“Wrong!” Elroy announced. “It’s nine-thirty in Georgia. You got seven and a half hours!”

My cousin was never one to panic, and it was him who took action.

He dashed from behind the counter, took my arm and led me towards the door while he said, “Don’t stop for nothing. Go get that ticket out of the trash can and head straight to the Pensacola Airport. It’s closer than Mobile. You got to fly! You ain’t got time to drive it! When you get to Atlanta, you got to get downtown before five o’clock.”

I staggered toward my car, got in, inserted the key into the ignition, turned it and nothing happened, not even a click. Dead battery.

Elroy saw my predicament from where he was still standing in the door. He had used the last of his funds to purchase an old blue Ford pickup before coming down here. He rushed out, handed me the keys, pointed toward it and said, “Go, boy, go!”

A few minutes later I skidded into a parking space at the motel and dashed up to room 211, only to find I had locked my key inside the room. I glanced at my watch and saw that precious minutes were ticking away as I dashed up to the motel office.

My heart sank when I saw there was a line of folks at the desk checking out, but I knew that desperate times called for desperate action, so I barged to the front and told the clerk I had locked my key in my room and that my medications were in there and that I was apt to have a violent reaction any second unless I took them.

She reluctantly slid a key across the desk to me and I made a mad dash for the door while everybody stared after me.

Back at the room I fumbled with the key, threw the door open, and stopped dead still. Something was different. The sliding glass doors were closed and the beds was made. The maid had been in and cleaned the room. I grabbed the little trash can and my worst nightmare was fulfilled. It was empty!

Whoops! Out of room again and I’m gonna have to be fixin’ to continue this.