Horatio gallantly put the dirty horseshoe in the front pocket of his overalls. He needed all the luck he could muster if he was going to get that job. Upon thinking of his tremendous upper hand, he felt a sharp twinge of pain in the upper part of his heart. Being a worldly man, he recognized the specific ache. It was empathy and conscience. It was apparent that if he obtained employment by using luck, it would be unfair, and consequently, he would not be able to live with himself.
He spotted a ladder. In hopes of negating some of the omnipotent luck, he proceeded to walk under the ladder. If there’s one thing you should know about the math of superstition, it rarely works. Secondly, the idea of a man as large and obese as Horatio fitting under such a thin ladder was ludicrous.
When all was said and done, the ladder toppled, as well as the painter on the top rung and the paint. All of it fell directly onto Horatio. There was much more clatter than there was actual personal damage.
Horatio brushed himself off as best he could, and abruptly did an about face, returning home, stripping down to his hee haws, and sleeping for the next 24 hours straight.