After leaving the racetrack Bill bumped into his old friend Peter on the bus. “Say,” Peter said, “How’s it going?”
“Going? You want to hear one of the most amazing things that ever happened? Tell me, what’s today’s date?”
“Right. The seventh day, of the seventh month. I go to the track at seven minutes past seven. My son is seven years old today, and we live at number seven, Seventh Avenue.”
“Let me guess,” Peter interrupted. “You put everything you had on the seventh horse in the seventh race.”
“And he won!” Peter sighed.
“No. He came in seventh.”
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