Photo by Mikhail Nilov: https://www.pexels.

Remember back in middle school, when you had to take English? Maybe you don't, having mercifully forgotten the torture of middle school. Even though middle school was not something I really wanted to enshrine in my book of memories, I do remember Mrs Gore's English Class. A very appropriate name, Gore, as most of us felt we had been slashed to bloody ribbons by the end of the class.

Be that as it may, one thing I do remember is being told about The Willing Suspension Of Disbelief. According to Mrs Gore, whenever you were reading a work of fiction you and the author had to make a deal: you - the reader - agree to let the author get away with something that is utterly stupid in order to get on with the story. So now it's your turn - get ready to lease an eighteen-wheeler to haul a couple of prestressed concrete beams to support your disbelief.

Here’s the unbelievable part: I won the lottery. Not some one dollar scratch-off payout or win another scratch-off for free, but 8.43 million. Dollars, my friend. Real, spendable, US American greenbacks. Not bad for someone who doesn't play the lottery, eh?

Sort of, though. Winning the lottery is anything but simple. If you are not feeling charitable, the lottery payout is pretty much a bait-and-switch operation. When you read the fine print you have to choose a lump sum or an annuity. If you won, say, one billion dollars in the Texas Powerball Lottery (not that I did) the lump sum payout is $516.8 million. Nothing to sneeze at, but really - only half the money?

So say you choose the annuity, then you get thirty payments over thirty years and you get the whole billion. Never mind that by the time you get thirty years down the line the 2054 dollar will be worth about five cents in 2024 dollars.

Don't forget taxes - up to 37% to the Feds. If you're going to win a lottery, best to do it in someplace like Texas, where they don't have a state income tax.

I always considered the lottery to be a scam, even if you win you lose a whole lot. Cute little slogans like You Can't Win If You Don't Play or Hey - You Never Know hold no power over a cynic like me. So how did I come to win the lottery? Therein lies the story you have to suspend your belief to read.

The Year Of Our Lord two thousand and twenty two had been a hectic one for me, even if I didn't believe in Our Lord any more than I believed in winning the lottery. I was pleased to see that the year-end totals on my company's spreadsheet were going to be in black ink, a vast improvement over the last couple of years with that damned virus screwing up everything. I was pretty tired, one might say washed-out, with all the effort it took to get through the year. I was almost ecstatic to have my next door neighbors, Stella and Ken Harris, announce a grand New Year's Eve party at their place. Their parties were always first rate, and if I felt like drowning my sorrows in Champaign or maybe rum-and-Coke, I could just stumble home on my unsteady feet and not worry about meeting some cop with a breathalyzer.

The party was just getting started when I got there about ten o'clock. I had intended to get there much earlier, but there was some last-minute bullshit I needed to get done and filed for the business before the calender took a leap into a new year. Sometimes being the Boss is a pain-in-the neck. Sometimes the pain is a good deal lower.

I suppose that the same personality trait that drives customers to have emergencies at 4:30 on Fridays can be blamed to them having catastrophes on the last day of the year. The only redeeming feature of the day was that I was home and was able to do my work as Erin instead of Eric. Too bad I wasn't a doctor, then I could get away with take two aspirins and call me in the New Year.

So I took off my bra and dress, put on what the unknowing would call my glad rags, took the plate of hors d'oeuvres I bought at the megagrocery from the refrigerator and toddled across the lawn to the neighbors. The sacrifices one makes to go to a good party…

There were plenty of friends there, plenty of food and certainly plenty of booze. The conversation was plentiful as well. About eleven thirty someone started asking what New Year's Resolutions everybody had made. There was the usual spend time at the gym, spend time with the family, read more books, keep the house clean, eat healthy, take a vacation - all the stuff we say we want to do. When it got to me I thought about the day and the week and the month and said "Find a way to simplify my life."

I know, I know - suspension of disbelief, right? I don't think even I swallowed that one all the way.

So the ball dropped, the glasses clinked and the wishes got wished. Then Ken started dealing cards out to everyone. When I got mine it was a lottery ticket.

"OK friends," Ken started, "to start the new year I got everyone a lottery ticket. There's a handy app on my phone that spits out random numbers, so I just fired it up and bought one ticket for everyone. You have to wait for the fifteenth to find out if you won, but if you do I think you will have a very happy new year."

"And the governor will be very happy to have taken your money." shouted some wag.

"If you don't want it then give it back and I'll double my chances of winning," Ken replied.

"Oh-ho! That must mean I have the winner if he wants it back!"

Me, I just stuck the thing into my wallet and forgot all about it. So now you know how I ended up with a lottery ticket.

As you have no doubt figured out, my New Year's resolution didn't have a snowball's chance of being implemented. The business kept being busy and only the occasional days home as Erin offered any respite. Since I wasn't married I didn't have to break a resolution to spend more time with my family and I already was spending a couple of days a week at the gym.

Eventually the fifteenth rolled around and if Stella hadn't invited me over for the lottery drawing I would have missed it entirely. So I was comfortably ensconced in an easy chair in the den waiting for the hoopla on the TV to finish before they read out the numbers. The smiling lady read out the first number and Ken said something I won't repeat and ripped up his ticket. Stella and I just kind of smiled - we both had that number. You can be sure we told Ken that most emphatically.

Along came number two and Stella groaned and tossed her ticket to the carpet. Amazingly, I had that number. Not that it did any good, since two numbers delivered a big, fat noprize.

Then came the third number and I was amazed - I had three out of six, good for a whole three dollars. Ken and Stella blew a big, fat raspberry my way.

The smiling lady read the fourth number and I nearly plotzed in my panties. I had all four of them! I now had fifty bucks of prize money from my first and only lottery ticket. By this time I was getting excited, I never have luck like this. I mean never!

Smiling lady read out the fifth and damned if I didn't have that one, too. Ken was going to need a vacuum cleaner to remove his jaw from the carpet and Stella was bouncing up and down like a two-year-old. Me, I was flabbergasted. I had now won a couple of thousand dollars.

Smiling lady went into some hyped up routine to build up the anticipation before reading off that sixth number. With triumph in her voice she read it and then, consulting her computer screen she revealed that only one ticket had been sold with those six numbers. She went on to tell us that if you find a four-leaf clover you've beaten one in ten thousand odds. If you're a surfer who gets chomped on by a great white shark you've defied one in seventeen million odds. The winner with all six numbers had beaten one in two hundred and ninety two million odds.

I was looking at all six of those numbers. That little piece of cardboard in my hand was worth 8.43 million dollars.

I freaked.

Ken thought I was having a seizure. Stella wondered if I was headed for the loony bin. I wasn't thinking, period.

Eventually what the smiling lady was saying penetrated and I had to call the number on my ticket and identify myself to collect my prize. You can bet I called that number as soon as my fingers stopped shaking. The voice on the phone led me through the process and told me to bring the ticket to the lottery office ASAP along with proper ID and they would get the process rolling. Then he warned me that once my name was known I was going to be deluged with people wanting a piece of the money and not to do a damned thing without having a reliable financial advisor.

As soon as I hung up I speed dialed Paige Skeyhill, the lady who handles my investments. Not that my investments amounted to a king's ransom or anything, but under her guidance they had grown steadily despite the ups and downs of the financial bulls and bears.

It's a good thing she knew my voice, since otherwise she would have hung up thinking I was one more scam artist trying to bilk her out of her life savings. I don't think she was bouncing up and down like Stella, but from the tremor in her voice she was almost as excited as I was. And no, I don't think it was just because of the commission she was going to be earning. We arranged to meet the next day and find out just what we had to do to get all that money.

As I recall it, some damn fool made a New Year's Resolution to simplify his life. All that did was wave a flag at the gods, high and low, saying 'aim your ordinance here!' Paige accompanied me to the lottery office and we went through some truly impressive bureaucratic folderol. When the lottery bureaucrats spit us out, the IRS bureaucrats were waiting with feral smiles and sharpened daggers; they then proceeded to slice of great chunks of my winnings.

Paige made the following calculations:

* Total gross winnings - $8,430,000.

* Annuity payment each year for thirty years is $281,000 per year.

* 37% for Uncle Sugar leaves me with $177,030 after tax payout each year. I lived in one of those states without an income tax, so at least I got a break there.

Not bad for free money, right? Sure, but it isn't all that much more than I was earning from my business. Moral: there's rich and there's rich! Unfortunately, I was about to find out there a whole lot of people in this world without morals.

The e-mails started before I got home from the public announcement. Some offered their help and expertise:

Some offered superb opportunities for investment"

Naturally there were several Nigerian Princes who wrote missives such as:

Then there were those appeals that tugged at my heartstrings - or at least attempted to:

Let's not forget the religious wackos:

So much for the e-mails. I have to wonder how they all got my address, it's not like I have it plastered all over social media or anything. Speaking of social media, by the end of the second day after I won I deleted all my accounts. If you think I got some weird e-mails…

But that was only the beginning. I had retreated to my home and was taking some time to be Erin - up until then a sure-fire way for me to relax. It worked until the doorbell rang. Fortunately, I had invested in one of those cute little doorbell cameras - a worthwhile investment when Erin didn't want to be surprised. Fishing my cell out from in my bra - no pockets in my dress, so nobody was going to see the lumps in my breasts - I looked and saw some dude in a fancy suit carrying a briefcase. Identity unknown, but after deleting masses of e-mails I had my suspicions. Warily, I pushed the answer button and asked in my best robotic tones : "Please state your business."

"Aidan Holt of The Ambivalent Agency. Is Mr Gibson available?"

I wasn't at all ambivalent. "Mr Gibson is not receiving callers at this time," I replied in Erin's voice. "He anticipates being available the day after Hell freezes over."

I shut off the call and watched the man react rather badly before leaving. I had hardly put the phone into my bra cup before it started to ring, so I took it out again. The red SPAM CALL WARNING greeted me. I blocked the number and returned to nestle in my falsies once again.

You now have a good idea of what my life was like from the moment the world learned I had won the jackpot. I suppose I had tempted fate when I resolved to simplify my life at New Year's, so in a way it was my own damn fault.

I shut off my phone about a half an hour later and disabled the doorbell after sorting through a small bag of mail. I still had to have some way to talk to my partner-in-crime at the office, so I managed to find a few seconds free between incoming calls on my cell to call the office.

When my office manager Bianca answered I knew something was up. Where was Polly, the receptionist? Bianca sounded very wary. "Byte Me Technologies, how may I direct your call?"

"It's Eric. You wouldn't believe what I have been going through so far this morning."

"Want to bet? Every con artist, financial planner, Nigerian Prince and destitute old lady had been trying to reach you. The nerve of some of those people!"

"You too, huh? I haven't been able to get jack done with all the interruptions."

"It's running six to one schmucks to customers here. I had to let Polly take a break before she said something that would lose us a customer or two, assuming a real customer got through."

"And what happens when you hit that point?"

"The booby hatch for sure!"

"Want a roomie?"

"My husband might object."

"Maybe they offer group specials and we can take over a wing of the place."

"That's what Byte Me needs, innovative thinking," she answered. You better keep working from home or one of them might get through our protective shield."

"They know where I live."

"Dig a hole an the ground and hide, then."

"Right!"

I gave up after another half an hour of interruptions. I reluctantly put Erin back in her closet and went out, after first making sure the coast was clear. I thought I was driving around at random with my cell phone shut off, but to my surprise I found myself parking in front of Paige's business office. She might be my financial advisor, but she often had some good advice on just about anything that pertained to business matters.

Actually, we had a pity party, went out to lunch together and tried to come up with some answers. We didn't come up with much, but I do love spending time with her.

Two days later I hit my limit. Some nutjob inventor rang my bell persistently wanting my company to invest in his perpetual motion machine so we could both make a fortune. It seemed to escape his notice that he was buttonholing me because I already had won a fortune.When I couldn't even make a phone call for all the incoming nonsense I cracked.

I didn't even bother to put Erin back in her closet, just grabbed my purse, got in the car, zapped open the garage door and took off, doing my best to avoid flattening whoever was walking up my driveway. I zapped the garage door closed and headed out. When the going gets tough, the tough go shopping. I had selected two new outfits, even trying them on in the changing rooms before I calmed down sufficiently to start thinking. I had to do something! Winning that money had just complicated my life past all imagining.

On my way out of the store I wandered through the electronics department and stopped dead. Some high-tech innovator I am - I can't make a call on my cell for the spam, so why didn't I think of getting a burner phone that is not listed in my name? I took care of that little matter and left with a cheap little phone that I could actually make calls from without hassle. I called the office and gave them the number, then headed home. At least I thought I was heading home, but once again I found myself parking in front of Paige's business office. I just gotten out of the car when I realized that I was out and about as Erin, and Paige did not know about Erin. I reopened the car door to make my retreat when I saw Paige in the office window looking directly at me.

That's when the answer to my problems came to me in a blinding flash. It was sort of déjà vu - much like when I got the idea for the invention that founded my company. Ignoring the crossdresser's ingrained fear of discovery, I waved at Paige and went in.

"Hi Paige," I greeted her.

"Eric?" she said tentatively.

"Erin from now on. I need your advice."

"Financial or sartorial?"

"Why not both? I think I have the answer to the problems with winning the lottery. Tell me, what would it take to give half of my company to my employees, then retire as Erin where nobody knows I won the lottery?"

"You're insane!"

"Yeah, Bianca's already told me that. We have a group rate for padded rooms at the booby hatch."

"Eric! Uh, Erin… Uh… are you serious?"

"You bet. Can we do something like set up a shell corporation to hide my involvement, give half of the company to my employees and half to the shell, then I take a trip to Thailand and come back as Erin Dahill. I then relocate to a picturesque little cottage on a lake somewhere and live the simple life as someone with no connection to that schmuck that won the lottery. I'll grow roses and lilies and maybe invent the Next Big Thing in my garage and start another company in a few years."

"What about the happy wife and 2.3 beautiful children? That's usually part of such fairy tales."

"I'd need some help with that. You interested?"

Flash forward to new year's eve in the Year Of Our Lord two thousand and twenty-three. Picture a crackling fire in a stone fireplace in a room that overlooks a clear mountain lake. There is snow on the ground, unsullied by the dirt and grime of the city. The clock stands at 11:59. Two women sit on a love seat with flutes of Champaign in hand. They are clad in matching flannel nightgowns, however one of the women's nightgown is rather stretched by her pregnancy.

The clock strikes midnight and they raise their glasses.

"To the simple life, my dear."

"For about the next three weeks. When our down payment on those 2.3 children comes due I can guarantee that life will no longer be simple."

"Just as long as nobody tries to sell us baby merchandise on a time plan and lets us alone, I'll be happy. I love you, Paige."

"Back at you, Erin."