Luck

"And a lottery ticket for tonight," Norman added.
The newsagent printed one from the machine and placed it on top of the bundle of newspapers and magazines Norman was also purchasing.
"That's £25.52 altogether."
"Bloody hell! I'll need to win the lottery to afford that!" Norman quipped.
The newsagent stared back at him with an expressionless face.
Norman paid and left.
On his way home he skidded on the pavement.
"What the?"
He had stepped in some faeces, somehow managing to get both feet in it. Looking down he thought there was no way it could have come from a dog. It looked human. It wasn't just on the soles either, it had squeezed up the sides and was on the laces too. Wasn't it lucky to stand in shit though? Or was it just if a bird shat on you? He wasn't sure.
He arrived home and sat down to read his purchases, having slipped off his poo-covered shoes outside and left them on the mat.
Two newspapers and a lengthy snooze later he switched on the TV to watch the lottery draw.
The first number was 33. He had that. 17. Yes. 5. Yes! His heart was racing. He was going to win!
28. No. 41. No. 2. No.
Oh well, he'd won a tenner. He decided to go and collect it immediately. They allowed that, didn't they?
He opened the front door and looked down at the mat.
Some bastard had stolen his beshitted shoes.