For one, there’s my credit card bill. So I took a match and burned it up in an ashtray. That should do it. No more debt. Next week I will check my bank online to see if my balance is zero. I have a car loan that needs the same treatment.
Next there is the owner of my office building. Not only does he charge too much for my lease, his ugly picture is on my building. Monday I will paint over his face. I’ll be interested to see who the new owner is when I pay my next installment.
Then there is my weight. This should be easy. I dumped the scales into the trash. No point in leading some other poor fat guy into deception by sending it to Goodwill. With those 40 pounds gone I can rest easier about my blood sugar levels.
And while I’m at it, I took a black marking pen and totally wiped out the calorie count on all the candy bars I have in the house. I will really enjoy those three Snickers for lunch knowing they are sugar-free.
Then my daughter came to the office. “Dad,” she said, bending her genders a little, calling me ‘dad.’ “I’ve decided to be a man.”
I couldn’t have been happier with this new method on what to do. “Honey, if you disagree with the words on your birth certificate I have the ashtray right here – we will burn it up too.”
“Dad, they have my certificate in the hall of records!”
Well, I thought, that is a problem. “That means we need to burn the building down,” I assured her, “and everyone will be happier to see it gone. We can do that next week.”
“But Dad, they have all that stuff in the cloud somewhere?”
Huumm, this method of changing reality may be harder than I thought.