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Hitting The Jackpot

'I've always wanted to be a lumberjack. My dreams are filled with visions of pole climbing, log birling, springboard chopping; though it’s another matter that I never had the money or the time to indulge in these sports.

This is because; I am a small time dealer in old furniture. I buy discarded stuff from folks and sell to antique dealers taking a small for my efforts, but the going is tough. Some days, I don't strike any deal for months. Those are really bad, days, when I have to survive on crumbs from friends. Otherwise, life has always been fairly kind and uneventfully to a small-town lad like me.

Then one summer afternoon, things abruptly changed. I was guzzling beer at Toto’s and sullenly nursing all my real and imaginary wounds, when my eyes caught sight of this huge poster, plastered on a side wall of the pub. It had the picture of Big Ben, wielding his shining axe, peering down menacingly at the puny pieces of wood, piled at his feet.

Big Ben was the local lumberjack. A world champ, the Texan folks simply worshipped the ground he walked on. Nobody, in his right senses, would ever think of challenging Big Ben to a match, which is why he always loved to dare his opponents. In short, he was arrogance personified. Not that anybody cared because Big Ben had made their county famous --- all over Northern America.

In this poster also, Big Ben was challenging his opponents to beat him at a forthcoming event. But the prize money this time was huge about $ US 100,000. Clearly, there were people willing to wager all their money on Big Ben.

I let out a slow whistle. The money was too good to be true. With a booty like that, I could easily clear-off all my dues, buy myself a nice, little log cabin, pick a Ford pick-up and drive deep into the woods, something I’d always dreamt of doing, but never had the money for.

Following the odd train of my thoughts, Elis, the plump and matronly owner of the pub, whom we fondly addressed as “Momma” knocked me sharply on the knuckles and said, “Sonny, why don’t you give it a shot?”

I almost fell off my chair. “Who, me? Have you finally lost all your marbles?” I jibed. She leaned closer and whispered into my ear, “Tell me, what have you to lose? You can not do better or worse. Take Momma’s advice and do it for a lark”

“And, make myself the laughing stock of the whole town,” I mimicked. We left it at that and I came back home but lying on my bed that night, I couldn’t stop brooding over the idea. In a way, Momma was right. What had I to lose? I wasn’t too bad at chopping wood. In any case, there was still a month to go. With a little practice I could improve and who knows, if luck were on my side, I could even win! But it was such a long shot; even I burst out laughing at my stupid dreams.

Nonetheless, next morning, I entered my name in the competition, staking the last few dollars I had on the crazy idea. Days rolled into weeks and weeks sped into one full month and finally the D-day arrived.

I was up at the crack of dawn. The past few weeks, I had followed a grueling schedule, working my equipment, jogging, working on my abs, but now, I was again full of doubt. Will I be able to pull it off. Whoever had watched me practice had also sniggered, “New champ in the making, eh?”

“I shall fight to the finish,” I heard myself mutter and head straight for the arena. A festive air marked the venue. The pavilion was beginning to pack with avid viewers of the sport. There were butterflies in my stomach and my hands felt clammy. But somehow plucking my last bit of confidence, I wiped the beads off my brow and slowly moved into the ring.

I heard a few wolf whistles, followed by loud cheering as Big Ben took his position. The excited din was now building into a crescendo. Everybody seemed to be rooting for Big Ben. I had one, lone supporter --- Momma. Sporting a new frock, she occupied a seat in the front row and was holding-up an untidy-looking placard, proclaiming, “Big cheer to Jonny!”

I got red to the roots. Feeling utterly foolish and hot, I plunged myself into my work. Chop, chop, chop, it went for the next 20-odd minutes. I was so concentrated on my work; all my doubts began to melt away. Everything fell into blessed oblivion.

Finally, the whistle blew. Slowly, I put down my axe and rested to gaze at my output. I’d chopped quite a bit --- my best record till date --- but it still appeared a small pile. Will it beat Big Ben? I had my doubts.

It was Big Ben’s turn now. Swaggering, he sauntered into the ring. But what was the matter? Even from a distance, I could make out that something appeared odd with the way he was walking. Did he have too much to drink at Toto’s last night? But, that doubt seemed pointless. Big Ben drank like a fish. And, he was the Master of the Game. He could gulp down several barrels of beer and still be up and chopping. That was the legend. So, what was happening?

Yes, something was definitely, amiss. Even when he started attacking his log pile, the muscled arm did not appear to be able to muster its usual strength. Let me admit it was painful watching a hero fall. Then all of a sudden, as if the effort was too much for him, the axe fell limp from Big Ben’s hand and he slumped to the ground, falling with a loud thud, flat on his face. He had passed out!

Even a penny dropping would have been heard in the far pavilion. Viewers sat mute, refusing to believe the sight that had just unfolded before their eyes. Big Ben on the ground!

Then, slowly, the applause rose. Momma was the first to stand up and clap. The rest followed and in slow motion, a crowd began to form and move in my direction. It had happened! I was the winner!

At the gathering later, old Mathew walked up to me and said, ”Jonny, I always knew, you’d win.”

“Horseshit!” piped in Momma, winking hard at me.”I made sure, Jonny won,” she chuckled.

“What do you mean…”I demanded to know, a small doubt, beginning to creep up to me.

“Never mind, what I said,” she said with the wave of her hand, before melting into the crowd and booming at whoever cared to listen. “The drinks are on me today, folks. Let’s celebrate!”