Clownfish Blues

Epilogue

The Florida Keys

A silver Corvette glinted in the sun as it crossed the Seven Mile Bridge.

“Where are we going for our next Route 66 episode?” asked Coleman.

“That was the series finale. When you hit a high note, leave the stage.”

They were speaking to each other on walkie-talkies. Because Coleman was in the trunk.

“You sure you’re comfortable back there?”

“I like it. Got my beer, munchies, smoke. Cool.”

It helped make room in the front seat for the nail-salon woman snuggling up next to Serge.

A walkie-talkie squawked again. “So what are the new plans for now?”

Serge glanced down at his lap and an official summons that he had poached from a mailbox. “I’ve always wanted to serve on a jury.”

Miami

A bleached-out lottery ticket with no visible numbers emerged from a spillway and floated off into the Atlantic Ocean.

In the history of the Florida Lottery, there have been a number of unclaimed tickets. The largest jackpot that wasn’t cashed by the 180-day deadline came in 2003 at $53.7 million.

The soggy white rectangle of paper continued drifting toward the Bahamas in an offshore seaweed bloom, before a loggerhead turtle nibbled on it until it was gone.

Back ashore, lottery officials were holding another press conference to announce that Saturday night’s drawing had actually produced two winners.

In a modest retirement condo along a more affordable stretch of old North Miami Beach, a heated argument broke out among four ninety-something-year-old roommates.

“Give me the ticket!” shouted Eunice.

“I bought it!” yelled Edith. “It’s mine!”

“We always go in on it together!” screamed Ethel.

“That was last week!” shrieked Edith.

“The rule automatically carries over,” yelled Edna.

“No, it doesn’t!” cried Edith. “Ow! Let go of my hair! I just had a permanent!”

“I got the ticket!” said Ethel. “Let’s go buy a speedboat!”