Seven

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?”

“July seventh.”

“Right. The seventh day, of the seventh month. I got to the track today at seven minutes past seven. My son is seven years old today, and we live at number seven, Seventh Avenue. And I had exactly seven hundred dollars to gamble with.”

“Let me guess,” Peter interrupted. “You put everything you had on the seventh horse in the seventh race.”

“Right.”

“Oh my God! You won!”

Peter sighed. “No. He came in seventh.”