I’m not much of a gambler. And there’s something about that look of desperate hope in those sad faces in line at the lottery kiosk on a Friday night that makes me pat the five bucks in my pocket and laugh. You’re never going to win! I find it extra funny when the jackpot gets really high and the lineup gets 10 times as long.
$10 million you say? Bah, not worth my time. I only leave my one bedroom apartment for the big money.
But if I did win a million dollars, how would things around here change? Let’s have a look at a day in the life of Johnny the millionaire.
Get up and have a shower. I’d like to say that my shower is now a baby elephant that sprays me with water from his trunk but that seems kind of gross.
Good way to get rid of your Christmas tree though.
I’d probably go for one of those showers with multiple heads so it’s quicker. Showering is boring. Let’s get it over and done with. Oh and a bench in there too so I can read the paper.
Now we're talking!
Get dressed. What does a millionaire wear? Whatever he wants! And I want to wear that black ninja gi with the silver face mask that the bad ninja wore in Revenge of the Ninja.
If it doesn’t fit I have some pieces of denim off an old pair of jeans that I can sew on as extensions.
Now that I’m suitably attired, it’s time to walk Mutton.
Guess what? Even when you’re rich your dog still poops.
Time for breakfast and I want Cheese Beanos.
Like this but with a cheese slice on top.
But instead of toast I want it on top of an original Action Comics Number 1
Then I’ll film myself eating it and send the tape to Nicholas Cage.
Time to hit the road. I have a plane to catch. Every filthy rich person has to have a fly ride, right? Well I’m no exception. I would like to have a limousine made out of four Austin Mini’s welded together. And not new Minis either, they have to be originals.
Like this but longer and more ram-shackled looking. Maybe weld two of these fuckers together.
I’d also like my personal driver to be Manute Bol.
Oh wait. He’s dead. Fine, just get me a really fat guy instead.
No one’s riding shotgun in my Mini Limo.
At the airport to catch my flight to British Columbia. Even though I’m rich I still have to go through security.
What? They only give you one free drink on the plane!
Once I’m in the air I can catch up on all my media viewing with this baby.
That’s right, a portable TV! And I’ll have it specially fitted so I can hook a DVD player up to it. Eat your hearts out proletarians!
What am I watching? Videos of the guys from Jackass pulling pranks on people I don’t like. Then videos of my hobo army taking dumps in front of fancy restaurant windows while wearing t-shirts with my face on it (with picture in picture close ups of the diners disgusted faces).
I’m on the ground in BC. Now I don’t ski, I don’t smoke weed and I hate hippies, so you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here. Well now that I’m rich I can retire early. And my dream retirement idea has always been to become one of those weird guys that hunt Bigfoots.
Now I don’t want to kill any Bigfoots. I just want to find one, take some videos of him, take some samples of his fur to prove he’s real and maybe give him a pair of shoes actually worn by Shaquille O’Neil that I bought at auction with my riches.
But if Bigfoot wants to rumble and it’s me or him, he better think twice because I’ll be packing some serious heat.
That’s right. The M124 mini gatling gun. Just like the one Jessie “the Body” Ventura used in Predator. No scratch that. I’m a millionaire so it will be the one Jessie “the Body” Ventura used in Predator.
And just to make sure Bigfoot goes down I’ll have special ammunition in it made out of melted down rocker rings.
Alright, now that Bigfoot has been photographed or mowed down into hamburger or whatever I’ve got to get back to Toronto. No time for conventional transport so I’ll just have to take my solid gold, bronze plated Steampunk jetpack (Craigslist).
Dinner at Hooters with Quinton Tarantino on a non-wing night (ohhh, the decadence). Rich people only dine with other rich people and I want to pitch him my movie idea about a romantic comedy set in the competitive eating circuit where a guy falls in love with a robot that has a human stomach. The working title is Fat Circuit.
Come home and give my Monkey Butler an extra banana for walking Mutton.
Then right some crazy ramblings about midgets and hotdogs for my blog.
Go down to my basement and wake up Tom Hanks and the rest of the crew to perform (yet again) all of Bachelor Party live in my bedroom as I drift off to sleep.
Come on guys. I know you’re tired but who’s paying you the big bucks here?
Either that or I’ll watch that secondhand copy of Road House I got for $5.00 at the BMV last week. I’ve already watched it once but it’s got guest celebrity commentary by Kevin Smith and a mini documentary called What Would Dalton Do where they interview real bouncers about how much they love the movie Road House.
Hey, five bucks really can make all your dreams come true.