Uncle Jonny Wins the Lottery

by Dana Scott

Everybody liked my Uncle Jonny. When he went to the bar, he could sit at any table and be welcomed with open arms. He’d sit out on the front porch in the evening and pretty soon, Stu, Skid and Big Nicky would make their way over. Those nights, you can hear them laughing so loudly at three in the morning that they wake Mrs. Kelly up for the third time in a week. And, since Jonny was a temp worker, every time someone missed a shift, or when the holidays rolled around, he was the first person bosses would call, because everybody knew him and everybody liked him. Well, not always. Not when he would spend mass sitting in the pew closest to the doors so he could be the first one out, or when he only gave a penny to the church’s donation box because he’d lost his wallet somewhere again and that was all he’d had on him. If you hear someone singing “Desperado” off-key at three in the morning, it’s probably my Uncle Jonny.

All in all, though, he’s an amiable guy.  But, even though everybody likes Uncle Jonny, his reputation was never that he was kind or dependable. Uncle Jonny is known for being the unluckiest person in the whole town. And it was true, too. I would sit on my dad’s lap and hear all the stories of Uncle Jonny’s mishaps from when they were a kid.

He would lose at Risk! every time they invited him to play. He quit Little League baseball for good when the older boys declared him a jinx and when they won the championship that season, Jonny thought they might have been right. He hadn’t gone to college, hadn’t had a degree in anything. He’d started. He was in the middle of his first semester and he was picking up jobs fixing roofs, and then he fell off a really tall ladder, broke his leg and his arm, and had to take three months off of college. Well, he never really bounced back from that, and he never went back either. Big Nicky and Skid were his roommates, and they still kept in touch. You hear them talking, and it sounds like they’re in high school still, laughing at dirty jokes and Old Miss Jackson’scheap wig.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Uncle Jonny’s not upset about any of these things. He’s more than happy with how life’s turned out for him. When you think about it, he’s not all that different from everybody else in town. We’ve all lived here for generations, and we’ll all probably live here for at least a few more. Doesn’t matter if you leave, because you’re still a member of town at heart. At least, that’s what my dad tells me. The real difference between Jonny and everyone else in town is that he wears this fact on his sleeve. He never pretends he’s going anywhere else like most of us do. He never made any plans to go to Los Angeles or Cincinnati, or some other big city.

“Everything I could ever want in the entire world, right here in town,” he would tell me when I was younger, with a boyish smile on his face. Now, I know he didn’t really mean that, even if he thought he did. There are plenty more things a man could want that you just can’t get in a small town. But I don’t think Jonny was lying, either. He loved the town, even if the town didn’t always love him. Especially not when he’d come into church in the middle of the choir’s set because his good pair of shoes broke, so he had to wear his sneakers, and he’d told us he’d grab a bus, but then he got the schedule wrong because he still had the old one and he’d barge in just as the altos were starting in on the second verse of “This Light O’ Mine,”

Like I said, Uncle Jonny was never the luckiest guy. That is, until he won the lottery.

We were at Big Nicky’s barbecue. It sounds like a special thing, but it’s not. He has it once a week and anyone who’s a little hungry can stop by as long as they bring their own steak or burger. “If there’s just one thing worth a damn in my life, it’s my grill,” Big Nicky would tell me. And then, he’d add, “don’t tell Debra,” with a wink. She knew, of course. Nicky would tell everyone at the party that joke, he thought it was hilarious.

But there we were at Nicky’s barbecue, and Uncle Jonny was in the corner with Skid, smoking another one of the cheapest cigars he could find, drinking a watery can of beer and tossing a lottery ticket. Eventually, as the night wound down, we would all gather around in a makeshift circle, telling stories about this, that and the other thing. My Aunt Emma and my Aunt Betty, Jonny’s sisters, would always sit next to each other.

“You, know, Jonny,” Lenny was saying that night, “I think you’re just about the unluckiest guy I ever met.” Everyone laughed at that. Unlucky Jonny stories were often the highlight of the night. No matter what happened at the barbecue, it always ended with stories about him.

“Remember when you missed the bus almost every day last year?” Butch, the town cab driver said. “You called me all the time. I think you might have paid off my son’s college fund!” Everyone went around the circle, telling various Jonny stories. Now, don’t get it twisted. They weren’t trying to be mean to him - well, except maybe Aunt Betty. She’s always been a little embarrassed by Jonny. But Jonny was never hurt by the stories they’d tell. He would just laugh along with everyone else, even chiming in with his own story every now and then.

“C’mon, guys, what about the time he saved Mrs. Rogerson’s cat? That was pretty lucky, wasn’t it?” Aunt Emma would always try and bring up something positive about Jonny. As his big sister, she was always a little protective of him. She would always tell me she found his misfortunes “charming” or that, it’s what makes him “unique.” According to my dad, she’d dote on Jonny every chance she’d get when they were kids. I can never quite tell if she can tell we’re just poking fun or not.

“Yeah, I guess that was lucky enough for her, but remember what kinda shape he was in afterwards?” Skid said, eyebrows raised. “Show them the scar, Jonny.”

Jonny shrugged, pulling up his sleeve to reveal a long white curve running from his elbow to the middle of his forearm. Course, we’d all seen that scar a million times, but Skid still thinks it’s the coolest thing there is.

“Well, boys, it’s getting late. Don’t wanna miss the numbers,” Jonny said and Big Nicky laughed.

“Why on earth do you keep buying those lottery tickets? You really think you’re gonna win one day, Jonny boy?” Jonny chuckled, pushing himself off the chair.

 And then, just like he always says, Jonny said, “Well, just you see, tonight’s the night I’m gonna win.”

So, I should probably tell you the truth. Someone did win the lottery that night, but it wasn’t Jonny. Jonny won the big four. To him, though, that was the greatest thing ever. I watched him run out on the porch, laughing and hollering.

“Stu!” He shouted at our neighbor from across the street. “I won the lottery! I just won the lottery!”

“No, you didn’t!” Stu laughed back.

“Sure as hell I did!” He yelled. Stu just laughed, so Uncle Jonny puffed up his chest, stamped out his cheap cigar and went into the corner store, just down the road from our house. After about two minutes, he came out holding one of those expensive cigars in the really nice cases, taking great care to make sure Stu saw. Jonny would always tell me that he’d have one of those fancy cigars one day, even if it killed him. And finally, his wish came true.

After Stu picked his jaw up from off of the ground, he ran up to Jonny, grabbing the cigar and inspecting it. Then, as if his confirmation was the final word on the matter, he said, to no one in particular, “Well, I’ll be darned, he really did!” Jonny gave a satisfied little smile, and went back into the house.

I don’t think Jonny cared too much about the thousand dollars. I think he was just happy to win something, to have luck go his way for once in his life. But by the time we woke up the next morning, the whole town had heard that Uncle Jonny won the lottery. And nothing was quite the same the whole week after.

The Jenkins twins, Fat Frankie and Slim Jim, called Jonny up saying that it’s just been far too long since they’d gotten a beer together, and they should catch up sometime. Say, Saturday night maybe? The ladies from the church choir who’d always glare at him because he’d talk through their whole set stopped by and asked if he would be interested in being their guest of honor at the block party they were having the next weekend. There wasn’t one person in town who didn’t say hello to Jonny when they passed him on the street that day.

Uncle Jonny was loving it, though I don’t think he really put two and two together. He must have known in some way that it was about his money, but I think a bigger part of him thought that people were treating him differently just because he was lucky now, as if that was enough to change thing. Plus, he liked being the most popular man in town. And besides, he’d only won a thousand dollars. What would people want with that?

That night at the bar, Jonny, who was still reeling on the high of his lottery win, shouted to the whole bar, “drinks on me!” Everyone just about went wild. Well, all ten people in the bar that night. He was at his usual bar. Usually, he had to persuade Young Jimmy to give him another drink at half price. The more popular bar, the one on the corner of Taylor Street, was too expensive. So, Jonny only paid for ten people’s drinks that night. Still, he felt like he’d won a million dollars, he told me.

And then, apparently on the walk home, the Reverend asked Uncle Jonny if he would say a few words at the Charity Social that Saturday, per the church ladies’ requests. Can you imagine that? On the best of days, Jonny sits in the back pew picking at his fingernails and not hearing a blessed word being said by anybody. Sometimes, Big Nicky sits next to him, and they whisper so loudly that they have to be kicked out. And here was the reverend themselves, asking Uncle Jonny to give a grand old speech.

Of course, Jonny accepted. He made me help pick out a nice suit and tie for him to wear. I could hear him practicing in the mirror in his room. He shooed me away, saying, “I want you to be surprised.” I don’t remember the last time I’d seen him that excited - if I ever had. When I went home that night, I was a little excited too. And a little worried. You see, no one was quite sure whether his luck had changed. I think we were all expecting something to go wrong. And something did. But it wasn’t Uncle Jonny’s fault.

I’m gonna be honest. I don’t really remember what he said. It was a nice speech about how he had God to thank for his bout of luck and how he was very grateful that they were having him today. Really, it was a real nice speech. But I doubt anybody else remembered that part either. Not after his last few lines.

“And, so, I’ve decided to give half of my winnings to the church.” Well, instantly the room lit up with the murmuring of so many people, it almost sounded like it was a summer night and the heat bugs were out.

LeeAnn Smith, president of the St. Joseph’s Ladies Auxillary, went up to Jonny, and with both hands, grabbed one of Uncle Jonny’s, grasped it tight and said, “Thank you, Jonny, thank you.” Uncle Jonny got a little red at that and scratched the back of his head, smiling. Aida Jones, first soprano in the church choir started crying, she was so happy.

“You know what? I’ll write a check right now,” he said, and pulled a checkbook from his coat pocket. Now, I knew that bit must have been rehearsed because Jonny never carries a checkbook around on him. He scrawled out something on the check, and handed it to President LeeAnn Smith. I saw her face drop entirely. And I guess so did everybody else, because everyone quieted down and looked at him.

“Jonny, this is a check for five hundred dollars.” Jonny furrowed his eyebrows, nodding.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“But the lottery was for four million dollars.” Jonny still looked confused, and then his face lit up with understanding. He let out a loose chuckle, which only seemed to raise the tension in the room.

“Oh! Well, I’m sorry, Church Ladies, I didn’t mean to confuse you. I didn’t win the lottery, I won the big four!” It was so quiet, I was afraid to breathe.

Then, the first soprano in the church choir who was crying, yelled a yell to shake the rafters, “You lied to us!” Poor, poor Uncle Jonny. He hadn’t even realized they would be mad. He didn’t know they thought he won the lottery. He thought people genuinely wanted to be nice to him, that they genuinely liked him. The entire choir blew up, some muttering to themselves, and others yelling at Jonny. The families sitting in the pews with their hands neatly folded lost their graceful composure and joined in. It was a madhouse in church that day. The reverend was waving his hands wildly, trying to calm everyone down, but no one was looking at him. They were all looking at Jonny, who was looking beet red in his nicest suit and tie. Well, I nudged my dad and he nodded at me, and he stood up and grabbed Uncle Jonny’s shoulder and we all walked out of church before Uncle Jonny could get yelled at any harder.

He was real quiet on the walk home. I felt bad for him. Jonny loved this town more than anybody, and for one day, he thought the town loved him too.

I didn’t see Jonny the whole rest of the day. He holed himself up in his room and didn’t come out, not even for Big Nicky’s barbecue. I could imagine him in his room, sitting on his bed and wringing his hands like he does sometimes when he’s nervous. I felt so sorry for him then, I remember, because Uncle Jonny just wanted to get along with everyone. Hell, he’d put up with being a punchline for years. He deserved better than what they were giving him.

Everyone in town was still hopping mad. I heard that Fern Sherman declared to the Ladies Sewing Circle that Uncle Jonny was never welcome in their houses again, goddammit, because that was a lousy trick he pulled, lying like that! Old Annie Phillips from the library made sure to tape Uncle Jonny’s late notice on our door, with an angry note scrawled in red at the bottom reading, “If you’re still able to pay it, now that you’re not a millionaire!” with a giant blot where the dot of the exclamation point was.

Big Nicky came over around eight with a few burgers on a paper plate. He told me he couldn’t stay long, because Debra didn’t know he left and, well, she wasn’t exactly on Jonny’s side, either. He knocked on Jonny’s door, but nobody came out, so he just sighed and set the plate on the ground. By the time I came up to check on Jonny, the burgers were gone.

The members of the Ladies’ Auxiliary Club were real embarrassed. Apparently, after we left, everyone was so upset, they had to call off the whole Charity Social they’d been planning for a month. So of course, they were real mad, too. And because they were mad, their husbands were mad.

Young Jimmy, the bartender might have been the most mad out of all of them. See, he’d been letting Jonny run a tab all week long, because Tuesday. he’d ordered a drink and realized he’d forgotten his wallet. But Jimmy just smiled real easy-like and said, “It’s okay, Jonny. I’ll just add it to your tab,” because Jimmy thought Jonny was the kinda guy who could afford to have a tab. And the thing is, Jonny likes to come into the bar just to hang out with the guys, even when he’s broke. But all that week, whenever Jonny sat down, Jimmy would slap a pint of beer in front of him and say, “Put it on your tab, Jonny boy?” And Jonny would just shrug noncommittally, because why turn that kinda offer down? Anyways, Young Jimmy kept telling everyone how Jonny had cheated him and the bar the whole past week.

Not everybody was mad, though. Stu thought the whole thing was a riot. He made his way to our front porch around eight o’clock, filling us in on everybody’s reactions. He kept saying he couldn’t believe Jonny fooled everybody and how he didn’t think Jonny had it in him. It seemed he’d completely forgotten his own part in the misunderstanding.

Around nine o’clock, Skid came over, too, already chatting up a storm. “Can you believe it? Our Jonny’s even more famous today than he was this whole week!” We tried to tell him Jonny wasn’t seeing anybody that night, but he and Stu just kept talking, so we all went inside and let them go on. They stayed late, too, even after we turned the porch light off in an attempt to shoo them away.

Zach Karsten, one of the usual members of the bar was saying the nastiest things about Jonny and how “he knew Jonny was a rat all along,” and “you should never trust a snake.” I thought that was real unfair of Zach, because who was it who had bought him a drink the night before? Even Ronny Brig, one of Jonny’s high school buddies brushed off conversation about Jonny with a brisk, “I don’t want to talk about a man who doesn’t keep his word.” It seemed to me that everyone only wanted to think about the personal wrong they thought Jonny had done them. No one even thought about the whole story, really. They just got indignant and righteous and stayed ignorant all along. I suppose it’s more fun to stay mad than to really think about what there is to be angry about in the first place.

We heard about all of this - mainly because news travels fast in our town and we live next to Stu - but I don’t know if Jonny ever did. If he found out, he never let on. His door was closed and his room was quiet from the moment we got home all the way to church the next day.

Church was really tense the next morning. Jonny was nowhere in sight. The ladies in the choir still looked like they were fuming, but some of the families looked a little guilty. I couldn’t blame them for being disappointed, but it wasn’t Jonny’s fault. They’d all just assumed he won big, and when they found out he didn’t, they made him feel like dirt. I was angry, too.

Now, the reverend’s speech I do remember. Slowly and solemnly he made his way up to the podium. “I’m very disappointed in how the events of yesterday unfolded.” He looked at us, and even though I didn’t do anything, I felt myself squirm. “I understand you all wanted the money. I wanted it too. But we can’t blame Jonny for our own misunderstanding.

“Jonny is a man who started with nothing. And once he got something, the first thing he decided to do was share it with us. Well, that’s as Christian as it comes. We should thank Jonny for his generosity, instead of persecute him because we wish he had more to give. Let us value and appreciate the kindness he showed and vow never to take it for granted again. Let us banish the greed from our hearts as our dear friend Jonny has.”

Now, I know, this must sound like a real cornball speech. But I can’t tell you what it felt like in that room. Everyone in the church choir was bawling their eyes out. The wives all weeped into their hands, and sitting in the back pew, I could see Big Nicky and Dumb Old Skid clutching each other’s ratty jackets and sobbing. And, because I was already looking back there, I could see Jonny sitting in the corner of the church, nearly hidden behind a big post.

He was wearing big black sunglasses and his favorite black fedora and big, fat tears were rolling down his face. I think, in that moment, whether he knew it or not, he really was the most loved person in the town.

It didn’t last long. That kind of stuff usually doesn’t. By the next week, the whole issue was old news. Jonny still missed the bus and lost his wallet. I guess nothing much changed. I still remember finding him on the walk home, though.

“Uncle Jonny,” I remember saying, “I’m real sorry about what they said to you yesterday.” He just grasped my shoulder tightly and smiled without showing his teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re good people. Every last one of them.”

“But what about your money? You don’t have any left, do you?” He’d spent it on the drinks and the church and the nice cigar, and it made me sad that there wasn’t anything left over him.

“I don’t need the money,” he told me, the light dancing in his eyes. “Everything I could ever want in the entire world is right here in town.” Looking back, I guess it was silly. But, I swear to you, in that moment, I believed him.

He did have little bit left over, after all. Just enough to buy himself a custom-made pin from the corner store reading “Mr. Lucky.” He still buys a lottery ticket every week, of course. He hasn’t won again yet. But who knows? I don’t know if Jonny cares. All I know is that when Jonny says he’s gonna win the lottery, no one’ll ever doubt him again.