My phone number growing up began with a 666.
And it wasn’t just my family who worshipped Satan on speed-dial, either. No, everybody in town was saddled with the same three-digit prefix, making it completely casual within city limits but unique and hard-to-explain beyond our borders.
“Six-six-six,” we’d recite on the phone to the insurance company operator or catalogue-company helpdesk, only to be cut off with a stone cold pause and a loud gulp.
“No, no, honestly, that’s the number,” we’d continue, trying to defend the devilish digits donated to us by the telephone company. “Now can I please order the Magnavox Laser Disc player?”
Yes, it was terrible, but it sure made me appreciate the power of numbers.
So today we say: if you have a lucky number, love it lots! Keep it as your PIN, tattoo it on your arm, mark it as your anniversary.
Because believe me.
The opposite is a real pain in the
AWESOME!
For me, 13 serves me well! (Superstitions be damned.)
Hey Neil, did you grow up in Salem?
btw, I love this one, it’s brilliant, of course!
9 and 13 are my lucky numbers.
Considering I was born on the 13th, I’ve had to do away with superstitions. And as an atheist, I love messing with the 666.
I was born on the 13th too, on a Friday. Serious. Look it up. June 1986
I always felt lucky we were a few towns over with 668, then I grew up and moved to Boring. Phone reps laugh. Every. Single. Time.
Wow, what a unique name! Bet it starts lots of conversations! Kinda cool to live in a place with a unique name. I drive through some interestingly named towns in my work: Intercourse, Bird In Hand, Paradise, and Blue Ball…seriously, they are real towns!
;-)