My mailbox had just been delivered of its IRS tribute only to be replaced by a boat load of catalogues, junk mail, and "it." Not that I had any trouble seeing "it" - it was twice the size of any other envelope. But it was more than just the sheer size of the thing. The huge letters on the front caught my attention immediately:

"MORTON H. LEVITT, of Alabaster Drive, Silver Spring, MD. You are on the list of $10,000,000 winners! You are DEFINITELY a winner!!"

Holy Shit, Bat Man! Visions of new cars, my dream house, a trip around the world, and a bottle of Remy Martin Louis XIII (Hell, a whole CASE of the stuff) danced in my head! I tore open the envelope, yanking out the contents all over the table. There was a four-page letter, an Entry Form, two sheets of magazine stamps, a Press Release Form, a sheet with three stickers of different color Lincoln Town Cars -silver, green, and white - an Authorization Form, and two envelopes: one for "Order" and one for "No Order." There was also a gold Eligibility Authorization sticker, a silver "$100,000 Early Bird Bonus" sticker, and a red Magazine Discount sticker.

I glanced over the letter. My hands were shaking. I definitely needed some news like this after the IRS had cleaned out my bank account this morning. "You are definitely a winner," it began.

"This is your lucky day," it continued. "You are at the final stage of the award process! Just complete the Release and Authorization Forms, pick the color of your new car, send in the appropriate order forms and you are on your way!!"

I poured over the letter. My heart was racing now! Yes, it seemed that my dream had come true! I was a winner, along with

• S. Turajabbi of Windjammer Lane
• Q. Zuraitis of Walnut Drive, and
• J. Vargas of Hemlock Way

Of course, I didn't really want any magazines. I had more than enough already. My den had the look of the National Archives on moving day. My bathroom had a stack of humor mags from 1975!

I mean, it does say "No purchase necessary."

So, with a trembling hand and banging palpitations in my chest, I hurriedly stuck all the stickers on the entry forms, checked off the "No Order" box, and stuffed everything into the "No Order" envelope.

 Just about to seal the envelope and race to the Post Office (I mean, if you had just won $10,000,000, wouldn't you send it certified mail?), I decided to glance at the "Sweepstakes Rules," printed in 3 pt. type on the back of the Entry Form.

It began: "No purchase, payment, or contribution necessary. Must be U.S. Resident living in the U.S. to enter. Estimated maximum value of retail prizes: Grand Prize(1): $10,035,000;Runner Up Prize(1):$100,000;Consolation Prizes(10,000):$40,000. Total maximum retail value of all 10,002 prizes: $10,175,000. Odds of winning are determined by the total number of eligible entries received for each drawing." Sounded good so far. There was a lot of fine print. My hands were shaking too much to read it.

I skipped down to the "No Order" section. Seems that if no order is submitted, instead of the "Entry Form" we submit a 3 x 5 card, on which is printed, in BLOCK LETTERS the words "NO ORDER," along with the PREFERENCE for the car, complete name and address, and my choice of "CERTIFIED CHECK" or "CASH."

After a frantic search throughout the house for a 3 x 5 index card (was it OK if it was blue?), I found one, and carefully printed the necessary words on the front (was that the blank side or the other side?), peeled off the stickers from the Entry Form (which you don't need if there is no order) and stuffed everything back into the envelope.

By now, I had spent 40 minutes screwing around with the fool thing. It was worth it, right? It did say I was "definitely a winner." I jumped into the car and raced for the Post Office, hoping it was still open. I figured they would all be gone early after the overtime on Tax Day. To my delight, they were still open!

"I need to send this entry form certified mail," I almost shouted at S. Washington, my Postmaster, my voice trembling. "I am definitely the $10,000,000 winner!!" Mr. Washington snickered.

"Are you for real, pal?"

"What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean, do you have your head up your ass, or what? You must be living in some friggin' hole in the ground, 'cause you ain't no million-dollar winner!"

"That's TEN million!"

"Yeah, right! OK, wise guy, that'll be $1.25." I handed over the money. Washington handed me a small piece of paper with an official stamp on it.

"You won't be laughing when you see me getting my check on TV, " I said triumphantly, as I swaggered out the door.

"You and ten-thousand others who all got the same letter," Washington yelled behind me.

I can't wait for that phone call! But don't worry, when I win, I still plan to regale you with my weekly railleries. I will be the same person. Promise.