I’ve been reading up about Mitt Romney, and people are upset because they are saying he’s too rich. There’s no such thing. We ALL want to be “too rich.” I know I do. I want to be crazy rich. I’m not just talking adopt-malasian-babies and wear-my-sunglasses-indoors crazy. I’m talking Howard Hughes, Marc Cuban, Oprah Winfrey crazy.
If I were as rich as Mitt Romney, I wouldn’t run for president. I would use my millions not only to build a laser tag arena with laser-shooting eagles in my home, but I’d use my millions to freak people out. Here’s my plan:
I’d build a huge mansion in the middle of an average American suburb. I’d bulldoze all of their stupid houses and put mine right in the middle.
Once I moved in, I’d board up all windows from the outside except for one, and each night I’d stand in front of that window, never moving, just watching, and never come out.
This would go on for years.
The only sign of life they’d see would be once per week, when the trash gets picked up, I’d have crazy stuff set out on the corner for the trash: A pelt of an extinct animal, an ant farm with miniature human skeletons, fingerless dishwashing gloves, newspapers for years that haven’t happened yet, a garbage bag stuffed with empty Mr. Pibb cans and a giant Mr. Pibb can stuffed with garbage bags, Crocs in the shape of the foot of an actual croc, undiet coke bottles, a BlackBerry PlayBook…you know, weird stuff.
People would talk.
At night when it would rain, my house would change colors. Instead of dogs going missing in the neighborhood, people would suddenly find a cloned version of their dog in their yard, identical in every way, except one eye would be a different color.
The neighbors would constantly be on edge.
I’d stand in front of that window every night. Until one night I won’t be in front of that window.
And that’s the night everyone in the neighborhood would get a flaming bad of poo on their doorsteps.
The angry neighbors would come to mansion the next morning, angrily blaming me for the burning poo.
But when they got to my house, it would be completely burned to the ground. With nothing left behind besides a diorama of the neighborhood with miniature models of everyone in the neighborhood, surrounding and bowing down to a pedestal with an elephant skull on top.
The source of all that poo? No one will ever know.