Future Self

June 12, 2009
By Anonymous

“Excuse me Mr. Fenrich, you need to wake up, that is if you intend to make it to your meeting on time.” I roll over to check the time before I pull off the covers and spring out of bed. I had no real intentions of being on time, but I thought it was good for me to be up anyways. As I got up I thanked Danika for waking me and sent her on her way with a nice, friendly slap on the bum. She giggled appreciatively, and walked out of the room. I strutted towards the bathroom, and was once again struck by the beauty of Danika. I felt extremely lucky to have been able to hire her. Her resume was long and impressive, but even more importantly she could cook up a terrific omelet. Just in general she was a great personal assistant.

I walked into the bathroom and checked myself out. Although most people would look straight down, at my rock-hard and rippling six-pack abs. My eyes, however are drawn first to the large, jagged scar on my upper chest. When I was a young man in college I had stolen a hobo’s shopping cart in order to carry a large quantity of beer to a party. The hobo wasn’t too happy about it and he stabbed me in the chest with a rusty can. This left me with the ugly permanent scar on my torso, which I have forever been ashamed of. Although it was too early for me to be graying, I checked for stray hairs anyways today as I was feeling worried about my age. I combed my hair into a messy, Donald Trump-like style, which everyone told me I pulled off a lot better than he did.

Fifteen minutes later and freshly shaven, I was looking fly in one of my best Versace suits. I would be slightly late, but that is what my clients expected from a very important man such as myself. If the president wanted to hire me for this job, he would have to wait for me to arrive fashionably late just like everyone else did. From what I heard, he wanted to give me the contract for the new expansion on the white house. I checked my Rolex and decided it was time to go, I didn’t want to make him wait too long. As I walked out the door, I kissed each one of my eight girlfriends goodbye and grabbed a Red Bull for the car. I wanted to keep a low profile so I chose to take the Ferrari. This was probably a good thing, as my pilot’s license had just expired and it wasn’t a good idea to take out the copter.

“Welcome to IHOP,” said the host as I walked in the door. She led me through the restaurant and to my seat. As I requested, the president had reserved my favorite booth and was there right on time. I interrupted him while he was finishing up the Sudoku from that day’s paper. I ordered strawberry banana pancakes, and I quickly and noisily stuffed it into my face. The president went on and on about this project and Danika took down notes. It was a $200 million project, but I only really took it, because I didn’t want to make the president look bad in public. It didn’t really matter if I had it or not, my firm had enough work already.

After our meal, I called up some employees and sent them off on their tasks for the new job. I had no work to do myself, so I took the day off: went yachting, played some Warcraft and picked up chicks. I went to sleep smiling, in a bed full of pretty ladies. My life is perfect, it’s a good thing I did so good in writing 12.

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