Dave has become a man who can’t seem to find good luck. That’s his life now -- one painful, unlucky event after another. Maybe you’ve heard of him? I only have the details of how his bad luck began. If you know more of his tragic tale, please take a paragraph or so to share it. Here’s what I know of poor Dave’s life: No matter what he does anymore, it turns out badly. Dave’s run of bad luck started when found his 13-year-old daughter smoking a cigarette. "My God! How long have you been smoking?" screamed Dave. "Since I lost my virginity," replied the girl. "You lost your VIRGINITY!!! When the hell did this happen?" shrieked Dave. "I don't remember," said the girl. "I was completely drunk." This turn of events seemed to leave Dave on the verge of death. His wife, Becky, maintained a candlelight vigil by his side. She held his fragile hand, tears running down her face. Her praying roused him from his slumber. He looked up and his pale lips began to move slightly. “My darling Becky," he whispered. "Hush, my love," she said. "Rest. Shhh, don't talk." Dave was insistent. "Becky," he said in his tired voice, "I have something I must confess to you." "There's nothing to confess," replied the weeping Becky. "Everything's all right, go to sleep." "No, no. I must die in peace, Becky. I ... I slept with your sister, your best friend, her best friend, and your mother." "I know" Becky whispered softly. "That's why I poisoned you" Well, that was just about the end of Dave, but he finally recovered. Things went okay for about two months, and then it all fell apart again. That day, Dave walked into a bar and ordered a triple scotch. The bartender poured him the drink and Dave drank it down in one gulp. "Wow Dave," said the bartender. "Something bad musta happened." "I came home early today," answered Dave. "I went up to the bedroom, and there was my wife Becky having sex with my best friend." The bartender poured Dave another triple shot. "This one's on the house." Dave gulped it down once again. The bartender asked, "Did you say anything to your wife?" Dave answered, "Yeah, I walked up to her and told her we were through. 'Pack your freakin’ bags and get the hell out!' I told her." "What about your friend?" asked the bartender. "I looked him straight in the eye and said, "Bad dog!" That sad day finally did Dave in. He quit his job and bought 50 acres of land in Vermont as far from humanity as possible. Dave saw the postman once a week and got groceries once a month. Otherwise it was total peace and quiet. After six months or so of almost total isolation, Dave was finishing dinner when someone knocked on his door. He opened it and there was a big, bearded Vermonter standing there. "Names Enoch... Your neighbor from four miles over the ridge... Having a party Saturday... thought you'd like to come." "Great," said Dave, "after six months of this I'm ready to meet some local folks. Thank you." As Enoch was leaving he stopped, "Gotta warn you there's gonna be some drinkin'." "Not a problem... after 25 years as a scientist, I can drink with the best of 'em." Again, as he started to leave Enoch stops. "More 'n' likely gonna be some fightin' too." Damn, Dave thought... tough crowd. "Well, I get along with people. I'll be there. Thanks again." Once again Enoch turned from the door. "I've seen some wild sex at these parties, too." "Now that's not a problem" said Dave, "Remember I've been alone for six months! I'll definitely be there ... by the way, what should I wear? Enoch stopped in the door again, turned and said, "Whatever you want, just gonna be the two of us."