Hot Soda Apparatus - Don't Talk To Strangers текст песни

When I was standing in line at the unemployment office a few weeks ago, I began speaking with the man right in font of me. He introduced himself to me as Zach Tamberelli, and told me he had an interesting story to tell. "I am a lucky man," he told me. "One of the luckiest men on earth."

I was skeptical at first, but he elaborated. "You see, I was born on February 29th."

"That's not lucky," I argued.

"Is it not?" he asked rhetorically. "What is luck, other than the execution of an unlikely event; an occurance against all odds?" It seemed to me that he had chosen the wrong word to describe himself, but I nodded and let him get on to the interesting part of his story. "Yes, I am lucky to have only celebrated seven birthdays, but that's only the root of my luckiness. Every month, when I pick up my unemployment cheque here, I head straight off to the racetrack and gamble it all away."

At this point, my mind began to wander. Why would one of the luckiest men on earth be unemployed in the first place? Seems to me that if a guy is truly lucky, He'd land exactly the job he wanted and be pulling down six figures a year; he'd never have to worry about being replaced on a whim. But he continued talking.

"...and Baroness Romanov finished first! I was rich!"

Then I started wondering if it was legal to blow all your unemployment money at a racetrack. Seems like there should be some kind of amendment to that law, so that you can only spend it on food and clothes and rent. Unless he was involved in some sort of money laundering scheme. Maybe he was involved in the Mafia. He does have an Italian name. And I think I saw him in an Olive Garden commercial before. So, again, why is he unemployed? Mafia henchmen aren't unemployed. And if he's doing commercials for Olive Garden on the side, then he should be filthy stinkin' rich.

"...my overall winnings were five thousand dollars. I decided that I was done at the racetrack, so I left there and went off to the casino to see if I could win more cash. But when I was heading out to my car, I was suddenly struck by lightning."

"Lightning?!?" I burst. I couldn't control myself anymore. "How can you possibly call yourself lucky if you got struck by lightning???"

"The odds of getting struck by lightning are very very small. I beat these odds. And this wasn't the first time it happened, either. About three times every two years I am hit by some sort of lightning. Anyway, I got knocked out cold by the bolt, so they called 911 and they shipped me off to St. Agnes' Medical Center. I was fine, though. I've developed a keen immunity to heavy internal damage due to lightning."

At this point, I just completely stopped listening to this idiot. Nothing he said made any sense. Eventually, I believe he did stop talking, but it took a very long time. I would've told him that nobody cared about his life's story, but once he started talking about fishing in the Arabian Sea with just a stick of dynamite, I couldn't get a word in edgewise.

One segment of his epic monologue did slightly point back to his original thesis of luckiness, though. It seems that he spent an entire year in Tunisia flipping a JFK half dollar, and every time it landed, heads was face up. He never went into much detail, though. I don't even think he mentioned how many times he actually let it land, or, for that matter, why he was in Tunisia in the first place. In my experience, Tunisia is not the best place on earth to spend a year flipping a fifty cent piece. Cuz that's where pirates go on vacation when they're not making conquests on the high seas.. Everybody knows that.