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The Lucky Moustache

John Ragusa

    Carlos Sinatra was a habitual gambler. He liked to play the roulette wheel and the slot machine at casinos. He would win money occasionally, but mostly he lost cash. This did not stop him from gambling every weekend.
    His sister Carmen wanted him to give it up.
    “You shouldn’t gamble anymore,” she told him one day at his apartment. “It just makes you have less money.”
    “But I enjoy it,” he protested.
    “You’re addicted to it.”
    “I could give it up anytime I want. It’s not an addictive habit.”
    “I think it’s hazardous to your wealth.”
    “I can afford to do it,” he said. “My job pays a large salary. I can gamble without losing all my money.”
    “Give it up, Carlos. It’ll just make you poor.”
    “That’s nonsense. I don’t lose money all the time at casinos.”
    And so, despite Carmen’s warning, Carlos continued to gamble. He found that he couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard he tried.
    He thought about joining Gamblers Anonymous, but if he quit gambling, he wouldn’t have anything to do during the weekends. Gambling kept him occupied.
    His girlfriend Daisy told him that her boss had grown a moustache recently, and that it had made him look quite handsome.
    “Why don’t you grow a moustache?” Daisy asked Carlos.
    “Do you really think it’ll make me look better?” he said.
    “It might improve your looks.”
    “I guess I’ll let it grow and see if it becomes me.”
    He let his moustache grow. Soon it was full, and he had his barber trim it.
    When Daisy saw it the next time they were together, she said, “You look quite dashing.”
    Carlos decided to keep it.
    All of a sudden, when Carlos went gambling, he now won money all the time. He found this odd – but then he realized that he had been winning ever since he’d grown a moustache. That was it – he had a lucky moustache.
    He couldn’t shave it, then. If he did, he’d lose at gambling. He couldn’t win unless he kept his moustache.
    At the same time, there was a powerful gangster named Frank Denatti, who gambled at the same casino that Carlos frequented. He cornered Carlos one night.
    “My name’s Frank Denatti,” he said to Carlos. “I saw how you’ve been winning in here because of your moustache being lucky for you. I want to be next to you when you gamble from now on. I want you to split your dough with me. If you don’t, I’ll have you rubbed out. What do you say?”
    Carlos sighed. “I suppose I have no choice but to do what you say.”
    Denatti beamed. “Splendid! I’ll start to hang around you when you gamble tomorrow night.”
    “I’ll see you then,” Carlos said.
    But when that night came, Carlos lost money instead of winning it. Denatti couldn’t believe it.
    “I thought you’d win tonight,” he told Carlos. “What’s going wrong?”
    “I don’t know,” Carlos lied. “I suppose my moustache isn’t so lucky, after all.”
    “Then I won’t be with you when you gamble now.” Denatti turned on his heel and walked away.
    Actually, Carlos didn’t want to have to share his winnings with Denatti, so that afternoon, he’d shaved his moustache and wore a fake one. Without it, he didn’t win, and Denatti stopped using him to attain money.
    He’d go to another casino, and grow his moustache back again. Because it was lucky, it would help him win once more.



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