You Wouldn't Believe It

May 24, 2011
By Anonymous

“Humph,” sighed Quincy as he sat there mumbling on to himself. He stared into the eyes of his “dumb dog.” “I swear you’re broken. You’re a broken dog, Simon. You’re a good for nuthin’ mut, Simon. You go on eating my food when I’m not looking. I need that food, you know! It’s all I got for today.” It looked as if Simon had listened for a second, but he wandered off and subtly marked Quincy’s only shoes.

It seemed as if thousands and thousands of people strolled by every day in the busy city of New York, each one with a different story. Quincy had nothing to do except watch all the people who passed by. They went on with their lives, while he just sat there and “survived” on his one meal a day in his make-shift shelter. Quincy was good at reading people. He saw something in everyone but himself. People would pass along in their fancy suits, with their fancy drinks, and their groomed, loyal dogs. He grunted and went on mumbling, “Why can’t I have a nice job like that? Or even just a dog that ‘works’?”
One particular interest of Quincy’s was books. He had a few books and magazines that he had either found in the dumpster or maybe even from charity. It was the books and stories that kept him from practically dying of boredom. “One day,” he fantasized, “I’m gonna write me a book. If it takes me half a decade, I promise… to myself. I guess I just don’t have nothing to write about.”

Once he finished scolding Simon about eating his food, Quincy journeyed down the block toward the dumpster in front of the deli. He rummaged though the unwanted leftovers, trying to find something halfway decent for a homeless man to eat. “Looks like I’m out of luck today, Simon. I shoulda known I wasn’t gonna find another whole turkey sandwich like I did yesterday. Guess I’ll just settle for half.” As he reached down deep, his eye caught a tiny red piece of paper toward the bottom of the trash can. “Well, I’ll be darned! Look here, dog, it’s a lottery ticket! And it’s a new one, too. Hasn’t expired. I guess someone’s watching over me after all. I just don’t see why anybody would throw away a perfectly good ticket of hope! Makes no sense, you know.”

He quickly read the directions on the back, glancing over his winning odds, which happened to be just about one in a million, for the grand prize of- well, lets just say more than enough! “Good gosh, I’d be more likely to get struck by lightning… twice, right here and now.” A slight disappointment hit him in the gut. “Them odds are practically impossible. Well, here goes nothing, and that’s just what it’ll be.” He assured himself. “Says here that I gotta scratch off these boxes and find three sevens in a row.” He scratched off one box, and it revealed a single seven. “Look here, Simon, there’s a bit of hope.” The next box was a seven as well. Now his heart was beating rapidly. All his dreams depended on this one little piece of paper. “Come on, come on!” Quincy frantically scratched the paper, the grime of his worn hands nearly covering as much as he uncovered. Old Simon just stared at him as if he were crazy. “Would you believe it? I won, I won! Simon, look here, I’m richer than a cup of black coffee, black as can be! I owe everything I ever had to this tiny piece of paper!” The dog curiously turned his head as Quincy gave him a big hug and jumped for joy. The flow of people around him blindly went on walking to wherever they needed to go. Simon was Quincy’s closest thing to family, other than his long forgotten brother, and only God knows where he was.
The lack of attention struck Quincy a bit un-easy, creating a nearly dreamlike scenario. The turning head of a bright little girl caught his attention. “Missy, excuse me, little lady! You mind knockin’ some sanity in me? I right-out think I’m dreamin’!” After a few seconds of peculiarity and fascination, she plainly answered, “Now that wouldn’t be so bad now would it? Just a bit ago I earned myself a half hour of time out! A full half hour!” Quickly followed by the violent yank from her mothers arm, she disappeared into crowd.

Although lacking a straight answer, this was enough for Quincy to affirm his sanity. He raced his way to the nearest gas station and waved his ticket around, jumping out of control. He went through a simple process, and within hours he was a half of a million dollars richer. His imagination ran wild. All his dreams that were seemingly so far away were now within arm’s reach. Simon was the only soul he had to share anything with. The only family he had was his ill brother Jack, who wanted nothing to do with him. “First things first, Simon. I’m gonna fix you up!”
He arrived at Pet Palace. “Hmmm, sounds like a mighty fine place to fix up a dog,” so he spent his first twenty-five dollars and waited for the new and improved Simon to present himself. The dog strutted through the swinging doors with a new swagger to his step. “Well, would you believe it? You’re like an entirely different dog, Simon. I wouldn’t doubt if they took twenty pounds worth of mess and fur off of you.”

Quincy then went to a clothing store and bought himself a real pin-stripped suite (that was how he saw himself looking if he were “rich”). It was not the most-comfortable thing to be walking around in, but he just wore it anyway. He now felt like a prominent figure of society. People listened to him when he talked and seemed to actually notice him on the streets. He was no longer invisible.

He was trying to think of the most exciting thing anyone could possibly do. The first idea that came to his mind was sky diving. Next thing he knew, he was thirty thousand feet in the air, preparing for the rush of his life. He had thrown some money around and was able to persuade the instructors to let Simon come along for the ride. “Simon, you ready for this? You think goin’ for a walk in the park is fun? Well, then you just wait!” They were up, sitting at the edge of the plane, waiting for the green light. “I’m not so sure about this!” shouted Quincy, “What’s that, I can’t hear you?” the instructor yelled back. “I said I’m not so sure a…!” His words suddenly turned into a frantic shout, with a few words mixed in there best kept a secret. He and Simon were now free falling. “Would you believe it? I feel as light as a feather and twenty years younger! Everything is so darn small from way up here!” Simon’s face was flailing all over the place. It was almost as if he was smiling, but it was most likely the pounding wind on his face. After probably the craziest three minutes of Quincy’s life, the chute finally opened and the two floated down to the ground with an immense feeling of relief. “I tell you, that was the greatest
four minutes of my entire life!” remarked Quincy. Simon, on the other hand, had a look on his face as if he had seen ten maybe twenty ghosts, yet his tail was still wagging and he still had that semi-smile on his face.

After journeying around town, spending here and there, buying whatever his heart desired, Quincy had amassed quite a collection of watches, outfits, shoes, and jewelry. He even bought himself an iPod music player. He decided he needed to travel across the world to places he had never even dreamed about. He travelled to Italy, Australia, Hawaii, Alaska, and Asia all in one year. The size of the world left him awe-struck. His previous life consisted of only a few blocks and a shack. His view of life was now a million times larger.

After a few years of his new lifestyle, Quincy had donated much of the money to various churches and had given a plenty good amount to some other people living on the streets. His ticket of hope was almost gone. He had just a fraction of it left. He attended college to ensure a prominent future. After college, he was able to achieve his life long dream. Quincy had fulfilled his promise and written a book on his life experiences. He titled the book You Wouldn’t Believe It and was able to get it published. The book climbed the charts quickly, and he no longer had to worry about money again.
After all this time he had almost forgotten his ill brother, who was particularly estranged from the media, hearing nothing of Quincy’s fascinating story. He paid him a visit, despite how cold they were toward each other, and they made up their differences. Quincy gave his brother the money he needed to live comfortably, and then some, for the proper treatment he needed. His brother was very confused but thanked him greatly anyway, and just as Quincy was about to leave, his brother caught him. “Quincy, how in the world were you able to do this? What did you do? Rob a bank? I mean…last time I saw you, you were on the street feeling sorry for yourself.”
“You wouldn’t believe it,” said Quincy as he gave his brother the original book he had written. He then walked into the rushing flow of people with his loyal dog Simon, into the crowded city of New York. He caught a glance at the nearby trashcan, only to witness a homeless man digging up the blueberry danish that Quincy recently threw away.

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