B walked into the bathroom while I was brushing my teeth this morning, slapped a five dollar bill onto the counter and said, "The lottery's over four hundred million. Will you pick up tickets at the bodega by your office?"
"Fine," I said a moment later, hocking toothpaste foam into the sink, "but what would we even do with four hundred million dollars?"
"Well, I'd want a huge oil painting done of you, Sid and I," he said. "You know, one that would still look beautiful five hundred years from now. And we'd buy a really nice place in Provincetown, and New York City probably, and Paris too, maybe. And of course I would get a massage every day."
"Well of course," I said.
"Oh, and because I'd be able to finance it all myself, I would finally write and direct my porn movie."
"Beg your pardon?"
"It's always been a dream of mine."
"And somehow I think I'll be okay if we don't win."