In Which, Conceivably,
• While digging a hole to China, I strike oil. In an effort to diversify my holdings, I forge ahead to the Earth’s core which, it turns out, is made entirely of nickels!
• I successfully lobby congress to make Monopoly money America’s one true currency. I pay off the national debt and just for kicks, I buy Puerto Rico, turn it into the 51st state and rename it Menudoland.
• I discover more Internets.
• I encourage Santa to check his list twice. He discovers that I have not been naughty at all and in fact have been soooo nice that I deserve a million billion dollars and a pony made of gold.
• I become a Republican.
• After months of eating Oreos, I pressure Webster’s Dictionary to redefine the word “rich” and make it a synonym for fat. Suddenly, Oreo consumption is not just about gluttony. It’s about fiscal responsibility. And gluttony.
• Every time I use a stern voice to tell Donald Rumsfeld “no!” and then hit his behind with a rolled-up newspaper, the American people give me a dollar. Rumsfeld gives me ten. Perv.
• I get breast implants and they turn out to be filled with uranium.
• At lunch, I’m given a fortune cookie with the entrance code to Fort Knox. Once there, I discover that gold bullion is not made of soup at all. It’s not even made of people. It’s made of gold!
• I become puffy. And I become a daddy.