Chinese luck

Editorial
Den Tenksomme Vraslosken

A friend of mine sent me an e-mail a few days ago. It was a PowerPoint presentation offering me good fortune once I had sent it forward to twenty friends. It was done in the style of a Chinsese fortune letter, written by a Dutch missionary living in South Africa. I was told my good luck would change to bad luck if I didn‘t send the letter forward within 96 hours.

Being somewhat superstitious, I did forward it to a few of my friends. I didn‘t send it to the number of people advised, but some ten or twelve people, feeling somewhat stupid doing so.

The very next day things started happening. I slept in an awkward position resulting in back pain for the rest of the day, I spilled water over my favourite magazines, my mobile stopped working, my rucksack fell apart in the middle of the street and I ran out of vacuum cleaning bags, just to mention a bit of the bad luck I found myself subject to. I started thinking about that Chinese letter again.

Earlier today a friend of mine from University approached me at my work station asking me why I had sent him the Chinese letter. Being an Irish Catholic, he‘s far more superstitious than I am. I told him I thought he might need some good luck, but he didn`t buy that.

“OK, I have four hours left before the bad luck kicks in, and it‘s all your fault", he said. "Give me five addresses I can send that damned letter to.” I did send him the damned thing in the first place, so I found five addresses for him from my Hotmail. I could tell he was relieved.

On my way home from University I noticed a kid messing about on his own. He was five or six years old, kicking a street sign. He looked lost. As I walked past him, he looked up at me and said: “HEY, MISTER!” I looked down towards the little man. “Hey”, I said. “What‘s happening, my little friend?” He didn`t look very happy, rubbing his shoes against the pavement. “Do you know where Francis Street is?”, he asked me. I shrugged my head. “Are you lost? Do you know where your mum and dad are?” “I‘m living with my dad this week”, the little man said. “Ok, where is your dad, then?” “He‘s at the pub. I ran out, now I can‘t find my way back.”

I did the only thing a decent guy would do.

“Ok, no worries, we‘ll find him.” I looked around but there were no clues to be found, so I thought I should follow him to the nearest corner shop, they would probably know either him or his dad. But the kid wouldn‘t follow me anywhere, he ran down the street as fast as he could. I stood watching him for a while, considering what to do. I decided to run after him. “Stop!”, I shouted. “I just want to help!” He stopped, looking sceptically up at me. I told him he couldn`t mess about on his own, it was getting dark and he was getting hungry. He agreed to let me help him.

I brought him to the local Police station, where I was greeted as a good Samaritan. I hope everything turned out all right for the kid. I have to admit, I also hope my bad luck has run out. Maybe helping that kid was my good luck? I hope so.