Detta är " Random Man " av Marc Laidlaw.
“No particular reason, it’s yust happening. Given a random universe, it’s perfectly plausible, though the florts are against it.”
“The whats?”
“I meant ‘odds.’ It’s hard to get all the words right when everything is just a fluke.”
....
“Sure,” said Milt. “Why not? If I’ve been chosen at random, why not?” He paused. “Say, does that mean I can do anything?”
SURE. The chrome letters on the Westinghouse this time.
“Fly?”
Milt felt a rippling in his shoulders. Huge wings unfolded from his back. He spread them across the living room.
“Wow. And big muscles?”
Milt felt himself growing larger, swelling . . . suddenly there was an odd twisting amid his molecular components. A scattering.
THE ODDZ WERE AGAINST IT, the silverware opined.
Milt was gone, spreading in a fine dust of randomly scattered particles. The cloud eddied about a bit, flowed over couch and coffee table, drifted at last onto the floor. Its last random drifting said:
OOPZ
En sökning efter "svår att få alla ord rätt" på Google Böcker har tagit fram en bild av ett utdrag från Isaac Asimovs Science Fiction Magazine, volym 8 . Med hjälp av det längre citatet sökte jag efter "Jag menade" odds. " Det är svårt att få alla orden rätt " och kom på Mr Laidlaws webbplats och en Internet Archive kopia av tidningen .