As John strolled down the road without any specific destination in mind he kept to himself, not really interacting with the events around him, as he was a bit shy. To his right a few feet ahead he spotted Allen, a former friend who had, in recent weeks, seemingly undergone changes in personality, becoming more malicious and vindictive in nature. Harboring little desire to engage in a significant conversation or to risk entering a conflict with Allen, John found himself turning around to walk back in the direction from which he originated. To his dismay, Allen had already discovered his presence; it was too late to turn back.

“Hey John, you drunken nerd! Make sure not to trip over a rock as you stumble your way back home, and try not to puke any place near where I’m standing!” shouted Allen, although John had not an ounce of alcohol in his system.

John muttered something customarily unspeakable under his breath as he turned away from Allen, feeling mere disgust and contempt for what his former friend had become. With an uncanny, though not unusual or surprising stroke of mediocre luck, John smacked his forehead and nose into the ground after unexpectedly tripping on a diminutive log. As he returned to his awareness after recovering from a fleeting period of vertigo, he noticed a discolored area of the ground among a patch of dirt surrounding it. Upon more conscientious examination, he found it to be a dollar bill. Overcoming the contemplation that a single dollar would be meaningless to his existence, John picked up the dollar and meticulously brushed away the dirt. Assuming that maybe it would bring a stroke of good luck for a change, he deposited the dollar in his back pocket. Perhaps someday it would bring him better luck.

For roughly three years, unfavorable luck plagued John the same wicked way it always had. One overcast afternoon, he stood on the roof of his apartment building, slowly pacing around during the unplanned time he perceived to be the last few twinklings of his being. While approaching the brink of the roof, he glanced down at the street to notice a car pull up in front of his apartment building. He quickly identified it as belonging to his long time friend, Tony. Favoring a decision to postpone suicide to satisfy a preference of seeing what his friend desired, John came down from the roof.

“Hey, Tony, why on earth did you come over?” interrogated John, in his impatience to carry out the suicide he planned and so desired.

“Actually, you may not believe I came over simply for this, but I was wondering if you had any dollar bills I can have a gander at. I know you must think that I’m a nut case, but this really is more important than you will ever realize. My collection seems to be lacking a 1985 issue,” replied Tony with a bit of a laugh to his voice.

Knowing full well in the back of his mind that Tony was a peculiar individual, John happily sympathized with Tony’s predicament and delightfully let him have a look at his dollar bills. When Tony terminated his investigation unsuccessfully, John recalled the dollar he unceasingly carried around in his back pocket with the longing of benevolent fortune.

“Hey, do you know what? I have carried around this dollar for good luck for quite some time now, but I do not think it has worked. Maybe it will perform some magic and sing and dance for you.”

Tony performed an expeditious examination of the dollar. Suddenly it appeared as though Tony’s eyes would pop out of the ocular sockets just as his jaw fell to the floor. “Do you realize what this is?”

John remained completely oblivious to the circumstances that made the dollar bill so extraordinarily distinctive.

Tony began to give an explanation, “An ordinary dollar bill has a green seal on the right hand side, just under where it says ‘ONE.' This dollar has a blue seal.”

“So what? Green, blue, orange... what’s the difference? I have noticed that on many occasions and not though twice about it, since it’s only fitting to my string of luck that I find a counterfeit dollar bill.”

“On the contrary, this dollar bill is far from counterfeit. It is not an ordinary dollar bill. A green seal indicates that the bill is backed by our trustworthy government.” That statement in and of itself was worth a good laugh. “But a blue seal means that the bill is backed by silver. It is actually a silver certificate, and thus a collectors item, not to mention that it is in excellent condition. Just off the top of my head I would say it might very well be worth over one hundred thousand dollars.”

John then could only make one simple comment, “You are God.” The unparalleled enjoyment to be found in life now unarguably outweighed the prospect of suicide.

Tony, of course, remained obsessed at the sight of such an incredible item. “So, I’ll trade you a buck for it.”

“I tell you what, Tony. Let’s order in some pizza for dinner... my treat.”

Tony liked the idea. “Deal.”

John then recalled the happenings that transpired the fateful evening when he uncovered the dollar. Now, with his soon-to-be newly acquired fortune, he no longer felt the feelings of contempt for Allen in quite the same manner he once did. After all, had Allen not acted like such a rude, inconsiderate, arrogant, moronic jerk, John would likely never have found the dollar. (Okay, maybe he still felt a little bit of contempt.) “Hey Tony. What do you say we give Allen a call and invite him over to join us? We haven’t gotten together in quite a while--let’s see what the guy is up to these days.” Tony had no problem with the idea.

About a half hour later, Allen showed up at the door with a six-pack of beer to avoid coming to the get-together without contributing something. Allen as an individual was an interesting sight for both John and Tony, as Allen now looked normal again, like the nice guy they once knew, only a shadow of his evil self.

“So Allen,” started John, “what ever provoked you to act so weird a few years ago?”

“Oh, that? My frat brothers made me do it for my initiation. They said I had to prove to them that I could be cool in public, at least as what they considered to be cool.”

Without explaining the turnout to Allen, John could only reply, “And how very cool was what you did.”

Allen nonetheless had a reply, “No, not really. I was punished for being evil that night... there must have been a hole in my pocket or something, because I still remember that I lost a buck that night.”