I always said that winning the lottery would never change me. How right I was. Too right, if anything. Winning £124,000,000 on the European Lottery sent my body into hyper-shock, an extremely rare condition. It was as if all the cells I needed for ageing went into a coma. A dead coma. I became immortal. I would forever walk the earth in expensive shoes.

It was all well and good for the first few years. I travelled the world with my beloved wife, living each moment as if it were my last, knowing that such a moment would never come. As she began to age I began to curse my luck. She would be gone, and I would remain forever.

Fifty years after her death I fell in love again, but history repeated itself. Two thousand years after winning the lottery I'd had over one hundred brides, spawned hundreds more children and become a grandfather to thousands. All of whom I watched grow old and die. I had recieved more love in my lifetime than any man, but my heart had felt lonliness unlike any other. I decided that I could not go on living this way. I had to do something. I was the richest man in the world afterall. I spent billions trying to create ways to keep my wives alive. At best I prolonged their lives by fifty or sixty years, just a raindrop in the ocean of my life.

As the millenia past I grew more desperate to find a queen to live at my side for all eternity, for I had become king of the universe. I would spend my grieving periods after the death of each wife travelling alone across the galaxies, telling myself that I could not put myself through another marriage cut short by natural death, but as the years past it was always impossible not to love again. Time heals all wounds, and, sadly for me, I had it in abundance.

I sank more and more money into crazed plots and potions to bring everlasting life,
until one day I had nothing left, a problem soon made redundant, for I was the last man in the universe.

Colin, Earth.

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