Bad Luck
By Loreta Sinn
Under certain circumstances, I would argue that bad luck wasn’t exactly a hereditary problem (we all have our bad days and good days,) as it was a problem problem, but in my case, bad luck was my second nature. I was hit with it every day of the year, ranging from the odd missed car accident and almost-getting-struck-by-lightning incident, to the falling stack of oranges in the grocery store and the toilet paper trailing at the bottom of my shoe. I guess you could say that I’m lucky that I haven’t been sent to the hospital or been dunked in the school toilet from an embarrassing reputation yet, but would you feel lucky if a piano almost fell on you yesterday? And after all that, for some reason, all this mishap and disaster seemed to go plague someone else and leave me alone for only one day every year – Easter.
No, it’s not because the Easter Bunny grants my wishes (which by the way isn’t for good luck, I actually want a nice new watch that bad luck broke) or because I always win all the Easter egg hunts that my little cousin drags me to. I assume it just happens, and I just go with the flow.
For example, just yesterday was Easter and I took advantage of the opportunity to visit my friend, Khan who worked as store clerk downtown, which in fact is the most dangerous place with all the hectic traffic, toilet paper to step on, and people to see. After all, why spend two hours of my precious bad luck-free day at church? It went a little like this:
“Simon!” Kahn said as he ran when he saw me dashing my eyes back I forth as I scoured the supermarket looking for him.
“Oh , hey Kahn,” I said disappointedly. “I thought you were on your break. We could’ve went downstairs to the market and gotten something to eat.”
“Don’t worry, I’m almost off, I’ll meet you there in a couple minutes after I stock up this aisle.”
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Looking at my watch, I sighed impatiently. Kahn was 10 minutes late. Finally, I saw him running from the side of the fish market with a backwards striped T-shirt and mismatched socks. “I’ve been waiting for hours,” I exaggerated. “You should have just skipped those ten minutes. I wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Do you want me to lose my job?” Kahn punched me in the arm, half-jokingly and half not.
“Whatever,” I gave him a small smile as I watched a couple seagulls fight for a moldy piece of bread on the sidewalk. I picked up a stone and threw it at them, causing them to scatter and squawk loudly at me. “What dumb animals. Let’s go.”
We walked a couple metres until I noticed that a fight had broken out in the central plaza between a small gang and a glasses-wearing, proper-looking guy. Instead of helping the poor lad, I just walked up to him and started laughing as he stared at me with horror.
I held my stomach with my eyes tearing up as Kahn grabbed my shoulder, gave me a quizzical look, and then swooped down to help the guy.
“You’ve really got to fix that attitude of yours,” Kahn breathed out with the guy’s thin arm slung across his shoulder. Even that couldn’t stop me laughing as I crouched down on the floor and wiped my tears away.
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…Actually, thinking back to yesterday, I think I know why I have bad luck. I think all my bad advice for friends, bad language,and treatment of animals, and evil laughter pile up on one day to make up all the karma I had for the rest of the year. God is probably trying to give me another chance on Easter to make things right but he’s probably been shaking his head the last couple years.
Go Back
By Loreta Sinn
Under certain circumstances, I would argue that bad luck wasn’t exactly a hereditary problem (we all have our bad days and good days,) as it was a problem problem, but in my case, bad luck was my second nature. I was hit with it every day of the year, ranging from the odd missed car accident and almost-getting-struck-by-lightning incident, to the falling stack of oranges in the grocery store and the toilet paper trailing at the bottom of my shoe. I guess you could say that I’m lucky that I haven’t been sent to the hospital or been dunked in the school toilet from an embarrassing reputation yet, but would you feel lucky if a piano almost fell on you yesterday? And after all that, for some reason, all this mishap and disaster seemed to go plague someone else and leave me alone for only one day every year – Easter.
No, it’s not because the Easter Bunny grants my wishes (which by the way isn’t for good luck, I actually want a nice new watch that bad luck broke) or because I always win all the Easter egg hunts that my little cousin drags me to. I assume it just happens, and I just go with the flow.
For example, just yesterday was Easter and I took advantage of the opportunity to visit my friend, Khan who worked as store clerk downtown, which in fact is the most dangerous place with all the hectic traffic, toilet paper to step on, and people to see. After all, why spend two hours of my precious bad luck-free day at church? It went a little like this:
“Simon!” Kahn said as he ran when he saw me dashing my eyes back I forth as I scoured the supermarket looking for him.
“Oh , hey Kahn,” I said disappointedly. “I thought you were on your break. We could’ve went downstairs to the market and gotten something to eat.”
“Don’t worry, I’m almost off, I’ll meet you there in a couple minutes after I stock up this aisle.”
----------
Looking at my watch, I sighed impatiently. Kahn was 10 minutes late. Finally, I saw him running from the side of the fish market with a backwards striped T-shirt and mismatched socks. “I’ve been waiting for hours,” I exaggerated. “You should have just skipped those ten minutes. I wouldn’t have made a difference.”
“Do you want me to lose my job?” Kahn punched me in the arm, half-jokingly and half not.
“Whatever,” I gave him a small smile as I watched a couple seagulls fight for a moldy piece of bread on the sidewalk. I picked up a stone and threw it at them, causing them to scatter and squawk loudly at me. “What dumb animals. Let’s go.”
We walked a couple metres until I noticed that a fight had broken out in the central plaza between a small gang and a glasses-wearing, proper-looking guy. Instead of helping the poor lad, I just walked up to him and started laughing as he stared at me with horror.
I held my stomach with my eyes tearing up as Kahn grabbed my shoulder, gave me a quizzical look, and then swooped down to help the guy.
“You’ve really got to fix that attitude of yours,” Kahn breathed out with the guy’s thin arm slung across his shoulder. Even that couldn’t stop me laughing as I crouched down on the floor and wiped my tears away.
----------
…Actually, thinking back to yesterday, I think I know why I have bad luck. I think all my bad advice for friends, bad language,and treatment of animals, and evil laughter pile up on one day to make up all the karma I had for the rest of the year. God is probably trying to give me another chance on Easter to make things right but he’s probably been shaking his head the last couple years.
Go Back