FROZEN PEA TESTER GETS WHAT HE DESERVES

THAT’S RIGHT! THE BENZ, NOSE JOB, STOLI — THE WHOLE NINE YARDS!

Don’t know where I’ve been for the last 30 years. It just dawned on me I’ve passed up all the things I deserved while working my ass off as a Frozen Pea Tester for FPT, Inc. (pulling double shifts to keep the pea“ce” at home).

Never had much time to watch TV until I was promoted to Frozen Pea Testing Manager. The prior guy was promoted to Frozen Pea Testing Supervisor, leaving behind his cool 12-inch flat screen. My job is to monitor the cameras on the floor to ensure the frozen pea testers properly use the frozen pea tenderometer. As a multi-tasker, I can watch a shit pile of TV at the same time.

I had no clue how deserving I am and how undeserving I was. I remember my old man yelling at me you’re gonna get what you deserve right now! That always meant a beating for violating my oath of office as the serial failure of the family. It’s like I earned the beating in some sort of dysfunctional meritocracy.

The Enlightenment

How was I supposed to know my kids didn’t deserve designer clothes, Nike® sneakers, food, braces, allowances, PlayStation®, cell phones, subsidized friends, and loads of other crap? How was I to know my wife didn’t deserve the luxury Prada paper clip she bought for 500 bucks? Stupid me!

All along they received what they claimed to deserve while I remained an undeserving nebbish.

Boy were my eyes opened!

**Man, oh Man! Can’t wait to get my hands on some serious crap!** (Image by Author)

So, get this. I’m watching TV. Some woman gets a Lexus with a bow on it from her husband. I’m thinking he’s feeling guilty for shtupping the housekeeper!

Another guy gets a $70,000 luxury pickup truck from his wife in exchange for a puppy! She must be shtupping the butler! Maybe they’re both getting what they deserve but I’m not sure if “deserving” is a two-way street.

The owner of FPT makes bank. I get no sick leave, retirement plan, health insurance, bonuses, respect, understanding, free speech, company t-shirt, ambient light, fresh air, or a vending machine with Cheetos. The owner is getting what he deserves while I bring a bag of Cheetos from home.

**Fat Bastard Owner Farting in My Face.** (Image by Author)

Listen up my bruthas! It’s time to reap the fruits of my labor. I’m going all out to get the riches, status, pleasure, gratification, envy from others, and other important shit those ads say I deserve BECAUSE I’M WORTH IT, DAMMIT!

DESERVED STUFF

Plastic Surgery — Nose Job. My old man used to tell me: Eek what a beak, is that your nose or a water hose or a banana you’re eating? He said I got my giant proboscis from my mom’s side of the family. Cost: a measly 10K (15K for Ryan Gosling’s guy).

**Future Adonis on the Right** (Image by Author)

Mercedes Benz Maybach S580. That’s right, I’ll be stylin’ as I enter the exclusive club of narcissists living in those mansions on the other side of town. I may have to work 24/7 but I’ll impress the hell out of the gang bangers in my neighborhood, my mail carrier, and all those other people I don’t know. Plus, I’ll feel way better about myself — another Win-Win for moi.

The Mercedes sales associate (fancy) is in my corner to broker the deal of the century with somebody behind a closed door. He’s even throwing in autopilot so I don’t crash the Benz like I did when a telephone pole came out of nowhere and hit my Honda Civic). Only 180K.

**No more sneaky telephone poles for this guy!** (Image by Author)

A De Beers diamond for the wife. Allegedly, my wife claims she always wanted me to spend more time with her. Nothing says love more than De Beers, whoever the hell he is. Besides, it is really a NEGOTIATED SETTLEMENT so I can spend more time with my friends drinking high-quality brews and Stoli. Cost of diamond: 20K. Cost of brews and Stoli: 20K.

**In like a big dog! (**Image by Author)

The body I deserve. After the nose job, this dude needs to shape up. I’m going all in with Arnold Schwarzenegger to pump me full of steroids and dope up my blood. I want to be so buff that if, God forbid, my wife croaks, I’ll still be a catch for some seriously younger babe. Cost: a steal at 150K.

**Don’t get confused. That’s me on the left!** (Image by Author)

A year’s supply of Dr. Pepper Zero Sugar, Eskimo Pies, and Rice-a-Roni (the San Francisco treat). Dr. Pepper’s ad says The Zero You Deserve is Finally Here. I can drink shitloads of this stuff without gaining an ounce. With the perfect bod, I’m sure I’ll burn off enough calories for the Pies and Rice. If they were good enough for Monty Hall to give away on Let’s Make a Deal, they’re good enough for this guy. Annual Cost: 6K.

**Andale — Mas Fruta!** (Image by Author)

Virtual Reality Goggles and Dr. Dre Beats. Meta’s ad says good ideas deserve to be found. I’m finding mine with some VR goggles. Lebron’s ad for Dr. Dre told me that I deserve the Best. How did Lebron know? Ramon told me Drunken Bar Fight is the tits VR game. I’ll be playing it until my brain leaks out of my head while rockin’ the Beats with Vanilla Ice and Kenny G. Sooweeettt! Cost: $1,634.76.

**I’ll own them Lakers soon!** (Image by Author)

Now, all I need to do is take out a second mortgage on my house, sell my kids and I’m halfway there.

**Yo, Bon Jovi, I’m on my way!!** (Image by Author)

I’ll borrow another $100K from Barclays Bank to embrace the change to well-designed banking, luxury, status, and convenience that, surprise, I again deserve.

I’m living the high life in the epicenter of luxury baby!

**That’s what I’m talkin’ about!** (Image by Author)

POSTSCRIPT FROM PRISON

Lost my house, wife, and job. Couldn’t even afford the break I deserve from McDonald’s.

**Screwed up big time!!** (Image by Author)

My nose and the Benz were repo’d. Arnold broke my legs. My ex has the diamond, now in a 24-carat gold ring setting, courtesy of her new husband (my plastic surgeon). I was convicted of bank fraud for telling Mr. Barclay I was the owner of FPT, Inc.

My kids took the VR goggles and Dr. Dre Beats as restitution for my trying to sell them to an FBI informant. The Eskimo Pies gave me listeria. The starch in the fucking Rice-a-Roni fattened me up like a Christmas goose. The Dr. Pepper Zero caused kidney disease.

My old man was right, I got what I deserved. . .

**They call me a white collar criminal so I can’t go out in the yard or I’ll be shanked by a chicken-wire, glass sharded, duct taped handle shiv!** (Image by Author)