Here's Luck by Lennie Lower

Queer, the incongruous thoughts one has occasionally. Especially in times of mental stress. The mind seems to set aside all major worries and considerations and fool about with something entirely remote from them. It is a common thing and happens to all of us. The parachutist leaping from his plane, wonders if the canary has been fed. Derelicts about to suicide have misgivings about the spelling in their farewell notes. The explorer, bound for the Pole, wonders if he wound the clock and put the cat out before he left home, and the battered boxer, prone upon the mat, wonders what his mother will say. And I wondered how and where I could find a position for Stanley. Perhaps this care for Stanley's future had be come a star boarder in my subconscious mind; perhaps my tired brain could not control my thoughts and they wandered where they listed. An easy, job, with easy money and plenty of it. I mumbled them over, starting from the A's.

Architect, alderman. Beauty specialist, building contractor. Car lifter, catarrh curer. Dope peddler. Evangelist. Face-lifter. Politician, pugilist. Despairingly, I stumbled on. Xylophonist. Yeast prescriber. Z--Z--Z----?