Larry Doyle in The New Yorker:
What am I going to do with my Mega Millions? Good question. Here’s a hundred dollars.
The truth is, I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, I suppose I’ll have to hire a lawyer to start preëmptively suing people who claim that I owe them money or fathered them or blinded them in a bar fight. And I’ll need bodyguards with double-0 clearance, for insurance purposes. And another lawyer to sue the first lawyer. But, beyond that, my life is going to stay pretty much the way it is, only with the Mega Millions.
Cheryl has been a good wife, financially supporting me all these years while I pursued my dream of winning the Mega Millions, and I’d like to keep her. She’s not really a Mega Millionaire’s wife, though, as she would be the first to admit. However, in light of all her years of loyal service, I’m going to give her first crack at the position.
Out of my own pocket, I’m advancing Cheryl up to three hundred thousand dollars for a series of upgrades. She has all sorts of complaints about her face that, frankly, I don’t see, but, fine, we’ll fix all that stuff. We’ll also be installing state-of-the-art breasts, right above the original ones, which we’ll keep around for old times’ sake to remind us where we came from. To go with her new Mega Millions looks, Cheryl will be getting extensive training in trophy-wiving from Melania Trump, on loan from my new friend Don, at a special discounted rate.
I do hope it all works out, because Cheryl was with me back when it all started. All those scratch-offs. All that black stuff all over the bed. She’s probably wishing that she hadn’t bitched so much about it now.
More here.