Prize
When I got home exhausted from another hectic day at work, I threw myself on the
sofa and turned on the television. I’d fallen into my routine, lying on the couch,
flipping through the channels aimlessly. I didn’t want to do anything especially the
honey-do’s. Oh, and I just could not bear thinking of the pile of paperwork on my
desk waiting for me the next morning.
As I dozed off, it came; that annoying telephone rings that shattered my serenity.
I ignored the first ring, the second one was more annoying and the third pierced my
head. “Hello!” I stretched my whole body out, just far enough to reach the handset.
“Good evening, Sir. I’m calling from Happy Ending. You’ve been selected to win a
prize.”
Another shrewd telemarketer disturbed my rest to sell me something I don’t need.
Nobody just gives away a prize without strings attached. I’ve heard my fair share of
sales pitches. So, I did what anyone would do in the same situation, without giving
him an opportunity to say anything else, I said, “Sorry, I’m not interested. Have a
good day.” I slammed the telephone down, cursing him under my breath.
Nothing is more annoying than listening to a sales pitch. The more reluctant you
are, the harder they sell. They wear you down until you give in. Before you know it,
you have purchased junk, and there it sits in your living room, you trip over it every
night on the way to the sofa. You curse it, and the person who sold it to you, and the
worst part is you pay for it every month for the rest of your life. As a repeated victim, I
promised myself not give in so hung up. Rude? Perhaps. Sorry? Hell no.
As I turned my attention to the TV remote, it came again. This time, I leapt off the
sofa, grabbed the telephone, and snarled an angry, “hello.”
“Good evening, Sir. I am calling from Happy Ending. You have been selected to
win a prize.”
“I said no. When you called me the first time, you were doing your job. Calling me
a second time makes you a nuisance. This is an invasion of my privacy, and illegal.”
“Sir, you have really won a prize and I’m not trying to sell you anything. My job is
to ensure winners are properly notified. That’s all.”
“I don’t care about your prize. Don’t you understand English or maybe it’s my
foreign accent, you don’t understand?” I took a deep breath, “Spare me the sales
pitch. You’re either a rookie or one who doesn’t take no for an answer?”
“Neither one, Sir, please forgive me for disturbing you. Have a wonderful day.”
“But wait.” I said, “I’ve never been lucky in my entire life, my marriage, my horrible
job and two car accidents that nearly took my life are just a few examples. So, what is
my prize? And it better be good.” trying to hide the excitement in my voice.
“You’ve won a luxurious casket with a choice of satin interior lining. A solid
bronze construction in polished natural finish with elegantly rounded corners and
swing bar handles including a matching pillow. But that’s not all; you will also enjoy a
prime site in the Restland cemetery. All of these and a beautiful tombstone with up to
fifty characters engraved for your epitaph.”
“Prize? A casket with satin interior and a chunk of land in the cemetery, you call
that a prize? This is why you called me not once, but twice? For a casket? Do you
really think I care about the color of lining or what I want for an epitaph when I’m
dead?”
“Sir,” he said, “The casket and the plot are all yours. I have personally seen this
land and it is breath taking. It overlooks a lake and the view is breathtaking. The blue
water shines through lush tree leaves. Oh, it’s just charming.”
Why would someone waste his time on a prank like this? I wondered. Suddenly,
my mind clicked, okay, if he wants to play this game, why not. What do I have to lose?
This could be fun, there is nothing on the television and my wife is not due home for
at least thirty minutes.
“The only drawback is that I recently changed my mind about committing suicide,
things are looking up these days. Would you kindly hold the prize and check back
with me next year in mid June?”
“All you have to do is sign and we’ll store the casket and save the plot for you,
and as I said before, there won’t be any charges involved. This way, when you pass
on, your family won’t have to do anything.”
Although this plan sounded far-fetched, it made sense. I‘d heard about the high
funeral expenses. For goodness sake, those morticians will rob you blind if you do
not have any arrangements already set up. But I felt weird thinking about my own
death. How could I possibly sign the papers, it was like signing my own death
certificate. It was spooky just thinking about it. What kind of luck is this anyway? Why
me? Why couldn’t I just win the lottery? Who wins a casket? It can only happen in
America.
“Is there a cash option?”
“No.”
“Can I swap the casket for a Lazy Boy?”
“No, Sir.”
“I cannot possibly be qualified for this contest because I am not a US citizen yet.
Now I see how important it is to become an American. You know what? To save your
valuable time in future when you call the next winner, the first thing you should ask is
if the winner is a citizen or not. This country is full of damn foreigners. Please! Don’t
waste our tax money on illegal aliens. There are so many of them nowadays, most of
them undocumented. They live here for free; off our tax money. Don't be fooled by
their English accents either. Whoever speaks English fluently and throws in a few
“goddamns” in every sentence is not necessarily a pure American. Thank you for the
prize, but I am not qualified.” I was hoping to get rid of him.
He patiently listened, “the truth is that you don’t know when your time is up, do
you? Nobody does. Death can come to you at any time. Let me make a point here.
You live near the airport. Just imagine, one night that you’re sitting in your favorite
chair watching television, a 747 jumbo jet misses the runway by a few miles. Instead
of landing at the airport, it crashes through your house. It could happen in a stormy
night, the control tower makes a fatal mistake,” he paused.
Being a careless clerk, I could relate to being sloppy at work.
“I guess so,” I replied.
“In that case, what would be your chance of survival?”
“Zip my friend.” I replied cheerfully.
“Now, let’s make it more interesting. Let’s assume that at the time of this disaster,
you and your next-door neighbor’s Latina maid Isabella had taken this opportunity to
fool around while your wife was out. And since you were in the basement, you both
survived the crash but explosion left you unconscious. Now your wife comes back,
frantically searching through the rubble and finds you and Isabella embracing each
other naked. Do you think your wife will let you explain when you come out of your
coma—if she lets you come out of coma? You know you had better died in the plane
crash, than face your wife.”
My knees buckled and I collapsed on the sofa with the phone in my hand. How
could he possibly know about Isabella and me? There was nothing between us; it was
all a fantasy. A chill shot through my body. I had never mentioned her name to
anyone. How could he ever know her name and about an affair I had only in my
shameless dreams? Who was this guy? Why was he calling me? What did he want?
Oh, my God!
The caller’s tone of voice became creepier, “You see! By definition, you cannot
predict accidents; that’s why we suggest you prepare for them. The prize is yours; it’s
waiting for you to pass on. It won’t cost you anything.”
I wiped sweat off my forehead, “who are you? What do you want from me? I have
not entered any contest, how could I have possibly won anything?”
“As long as you live in America, you are qualified. And now, you are one of our
lucky winners. The name of the organization I represent is Happy Endings, based in
New York City.”
“You must be from Immigration and don’t even try to scare me back to my country
with all of this nonsense about death. We are legal residents waiting for our
citizenships. We have already sent our pictures, fingerprints and signed the
documents not to mention the damn $200.00 application fee, so back off. Next time,
do your homework before harassing people.”
“As I said, you were selected because you live in the United States. We do not
look at the past; we plan for the future.”
The more I listened to him, the more I panicked and more I was terrified, the
calmer he became which scared me even more.
“I told you, the prize is yours. All you need is to claim it.”
I could hardly breathe, thinking of my goddamn luck. The only time in my life I win
something and it is for my death.
“I’ve got a better idea. I want you to give my prize to my boss Mr. John T. Howard.
He is so old he doesn’t even remember when he was born. This cheap bastard will
not turn down anything if it’s free. He is the most shameless man I have ever known
in my life. He dresses like a pimp in his tight black leather pants and red silk jacket.
You can find him at the seediest strip joint in town. He is the one who needs to drop
dead soon.”
“Your prize is non-transferable.”
“Please, please leave me alone! This is a conspiracy. Who else but the FBI knows
so much about private lives of citizens? You don’t scare me a bit. I am a free man
and I will not stop voicing my political opinions and beliefs. I am fully aware of my
constitutional rights.”
The truth was, I’d never been interested in political matters. But I didn’t know what
to think, what to say and worst than all, what to do. I wanted to hang up but I couldn’t.
Deep down I knew this man was for real, he was calling me to tell me my life was
over. I’d thought of death many times before, but I never imagined it would come to
me like this. I never thought I would have a prepaid death with a bunch of freebies.
He did not sound like he’d been with this death organization for very long. Maybe
he was just a rookie. Maybe they reserve their veterans to kill the actors in Hollywood
or the politicians in Washington. Maybe they sent their new trainees to kill the
foreigners first and work their way up. The fact that he was a rookie could be a plus
for me. Since I was not religious, I could not expect leniency. So, my only way out of
this was to buy him off. Everyone has a price, why not God? But, I had to do it
delicately. This was the chance of a lifetime.
“Did you say the lining is velvet or satin? What choices of colors do I have?” I
rattled on, “Is it waterproof? I do not want any moisture in my casket. Water damage
is the worst. Didn’t you say my plot is close to the lake? Please make sure I am not
too close. I don’t want the water to rise and my dead body be floating around the lake
like fools.”
Without waiting for his response, I droned, “I won’t sign any paperwork until I have
it checked out by my attorney.” I was grasping for anything to prolong the
conversation.
“Your death is your right and our responsibility but it is a private matter. If you
say a word about this to anyone, we will have no choice but to take his life as well, it’s
a matter of divine security.”
“I want it painless. I do not accept a horrible death and no compromise on this
issue.”
“Sir, I don’t have negotiating power. I don’t always agree with the way things
happen around here either. We the younger messengers are trying to improve our
operation, but we can’t change our antiquated rules overnight.”
I was carefully listening to every word he was saying to pitch my sale and finalize a
lucrative transaction.
“Traditionally,” he continued, “we take your life without any notice but we have
been debating the morality of that practice for some time now. We’re trying to modify
the severity of death in light of the new millennium. We’re asking the Higher Council
to add more dignity to death. Take your case for example, you practically hung up on
me twice and you are bargaining with me, this is unprecedented. Anyone else in my
position would whip your ass in a flash and smoke you before you get a chance to
put down the phone. But we, the new generation, are trying to work with our clients
and improve our image.”
Slowly but surely, I was getting on his softer side.
“Can I make amends by doing something good before I go?”
His tone of voice suddenly changed: “First of all, we are strictly prohibited from
getting involved in our client’s personal lives and I am tired of your tricky questions to
help you beat the system. You sound like a shrewd salesman to me. I am a simple
messenger who tries to make death a little easier for you. I have a time limit for being
on the phone with new clients, and all calls are monitored for training purposes and
quality control. Please sir, for my sake, let’s wrap this call up.”
“I understand your strict rules, but remember, we’re on the brink of a new
millennium and you are trying to get out of your ancient practices. Does it really
matter why I’m doing the good work as long as I do it? Sure, you tipped me off and
bent the rules a little, but you are not doing anything against divine purpose.”
“You don’t have much time. As much as I would like to help you, I don’t know
how.”
“Let me compensate for being blind all my life and not finding the path of
salvation. Let me pay for years of free cable TV. Let me pay for every towel I took
from hotel rooms or the head sets and life jackets I walked off with from the
airplane…”
“Oh yah! That would cover your sins!” His sarcasm scared the hell out of me.
“What about cash? If I can come up with some cash, can you use your
connections to give it to a charity organization for me? That’s least you can do for
me. Just give me two weeks to sell everything in the house. Let me sell my car, I will
get six or seven thousand dollars for it. I max out my cash advances on my credit
cards, the interest rate is high, but who the hell cares...”
I was begging for my salvation. And surprisingly, he accepted my offer.
“I don’t make any promises, but this is a step in the right direction. I agree to your
terms, but you only have one week. Next Thursday, at seven o’clock in the morning,
the Salvation Army donation truck comes to your neighborhood. Put the cash in a
donation bag, mark it clearly ‘Old Clothing for Charity’ and put it at the closest pick
up point from your home. It will go to a good cause. Then, you will hear from me.”
I thanked him for his mercy and compassion. Maybe I was the only man who was
blessed to have contact with God or his representative.
“Remember, you only have time until Thursday, seven a.m.” The line went dead,
my torment was over.
The next morning, I sent my wife to visit her parents without saying a word about
this to protect her. I’d failed to bring her happiness so there was no reason to bring
her untimely death now. As planned, I got as many cash advances on my credit cards
as possible. I sold my car at a bargain price and liquidated everything in the house in
a garage sale. I even sold my wedding ring to a pawnshop for an extra four hundred
dollars.
By Wednesday afternoon, my entire life possession was turned into cash. I
carefully counted all the money and the total was $48,569.35 then placed the cash in
a donation bag and marked it as instructed.
The next morning, I took the bag to the closest cross section from my house and
left it next to a three legged credenza and a reeking hide-a-bed, but I could not leave
it unattended, I had to make sure the truck picked it up and it was not lost or stolen.
So I hid behind some bushes nearby and anxiously waited.
At 6:57 a.m. An old Chevrolet truck approached the intersection with a young man
driving. It came to a screeching halt by the pile of donations. A beautiful Latina
woman darted out of the truck and scooped up my bag. I recognized the next-door
Latina maid who barely had time to get back into the truck as it sped off.
Two weeks later, The Messenger of Death and his new bride, Isabella, sent me a
postcard from Acapulco thanking me for the generous wedding gift.