“Mr. Raff, congratulations you have won 50,000 American dollars in our national lottery!” I explained that Clarence Raff had crapped out in the back bedroom of this shack that I'm currently buying, by installment, from his heir and former neighbor: 30-yr.-old, 119-pound, blue-eyed, double-D cupped, 5' 7'' natural blonde Sue Buccini Strasser. The line went dead so I hung up. 12 minutes later the phone rings. This time it's Hector J.V. McJohnson (step-brother to Raoul and Acting Supreme Council Chairman to the Regional Zone of Money Transference, Incorporated) to congratulate me on meeting the stringent specifications for national lottery transferableness, which is the fact that I have maintained the primary telephone number of the deceased lottery ticket purchaser. “Sir,” (Here it comes, I thought.) “there is the matter of a transferableness fee that the government in the capital city imposes on the winnings of a lucky person like you.” I sent the $500 directly to Hector as he pledged with his “most sacred honesty” is the best way...the New Zealand way to form a bond that no one can ever break! A week passed, and another, and another. I called Hector. No one answered. A full 6 months flew by before the call came through from Jules McWatsonberry to congratulate me on winning 50,000 American dollars. I interrupted him to say that I had gone through this process 6 months earlier. I sent Jules $500 immediately to cover the pre-transportable excise duty on the 2nd fifty grand as I figured that the original fifty grand would be here any day now. Days melted into weeks. On my birthday, 9 months later to the day, a certified bank draft, arrived by courier signed by Raoul, Hector & Jules for $92,780 payable to me. They had combined my winnings onto one check. I couldn't believe it! So many people doubted the honesty of these mysterious New Zealanders as I honestly described them. 50 grand & 50 grand is 100 grand! These greasy ******* shorted me $7,220. Will I ever be able to trust again? Will this wound never scab?