Travis Tea got one of those too! His relative must have been in the same car as Sharla's relative. Small world, eh? Travis has won various lotteries with prizes in the millions more times than I can recall. He's fabulously wealthy now, all thanks to having an email address listed on a website.
[Updated to add]: It's possible, now that I think about it, that Travis's relative (along with his wife and his daughter) was driving the car that collided with Sharla's relative's car. Imagine the scene of blood, terror, and death! Twisted metal, broken glass, the screams of the dying ... the horror, the horror!
On a lonely stretch of road in Togo, two families, two wealthy families, are destined to meet. Little did they think that morning, as they filled coolers with beer and set off on holiday, that the Nouvissi Express Road would prove to be their undoing.
S. J. Tann, an Engineer with Shell Oil, turned to his wife just as the speedometer nudged sixty-five miles an hour. The sun was in their eyes, for they were eastbound. "Are you wearing your knickers?" he asked. "In case of an accident, that is."
"No," she responded, in her usual simpering manner. "Knickers would only get in the way. I don't believe in knickers, nor does our daughter."
"You wearing your knicks?" S. J. asked their lovely just-turned-eighteen daughter, riding in the backseat.
"Nope!" she responded enthusiastically, and popped open another beer. Her short skirt rode up her thighs rendering her words superfluous.
Meanwhile, westbound on that self-same Nouvissi Express Road, Engineer (with Shell Oil) S. J. Tea turned to his wife. "I just read a book by my cousin, Travis," he confided. "Great book. Starts with a rich guy getting in a car accident."
"Wait a moment?" his wife trembled. "We're rich."
"You'll wake our daughter," S. J. said. "Hand me another beer." He glanced in the rearview mirror, to where their lovely daughter lay asleep in the back, her seatbelt unfastened. "No worries, though, the rich guy lives."
"If you mean that wonderful book,
Atlanta Nights, available in brick-and-mortar bookstores from sea to shining sea, that I saw you reading, the rich guy in the auto accident dies."
"Lives."
"Dies."
"Lives."
"Dies."
Meanwhile, in the Tann automobile, S. J. had a question: "Do we drive on the right or on the left in this country?"
"Well," his wife suggested, "If the women wear knickers, we drive on the left. If, on the other hand, they wear panties, we drive on the right."
"What if the women don't wear anything at all?"
"If they aren't wearing knickers we drive on the left," she stated. "If they aren't wearing panties we drive on the right. I, myself," she sniffed, "am not wearing knickers."
Faster and faster, they drove east. In the left-hand lane.
In the Tea auto, the argument grew hotter:
"Lives!"
"Dies!"
"Lives, lives, lives!"
"Dies, dies, dies, times a thousand!"
"Lives, times a million!"
Neither was watching the road as they drove west, in the right-hand lane (which, from the point of view of the rapidly approaching Tann car was the left-hand lane).
Suddenly, Mrs. Tea screamed out, "Watch out for the Tann car!"
"Trying to get out of admitting you were wrong?" Mr. Tea asked. "And I don't see any tan car. The car directly ahead of us in our lane, with which we are about to have a head-on crash, is red!"
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Oh, sorrow! For this reason Gabor Wari, Esq., (who by a weird coincidence represented both estates), now has the unhappy duty of discovering the relatives of both families, and must search the internet, for his efforts (to date) have been fruitless.
