To be the cold brass

He was a standard man. No higher than a typical door, possesed a firm handshake, complained about his accounting job but didn't do anything about it. He passed the same kids on the way to work everyday. They probably saw him, but thought nothing of it. Compulsively, each night on the ride home, regardless of the conditions, he would think how it would be a terrible night to have a curse. It annoyed him as much as it annoys you. Enemies would be more difficult to defeat, and that was the harsh reality.

One night he took a different route home and drove his car into a river gorge. He didn't die, in fact, he walked with only scratches. He shook his magic eight ball and it predicted the same outcome. He left his car there and walked home. He was unable to go to work the next day but his friend Dave picked him up. He never told him what happened.