“Self Made” Corporate Heir
Hey, ahah, could you spare me a dollar? Sorry, sorry, kidding. You took me back to my roots when I saw what you were wearing, back when I had to work every day to put food on the table. You look like someone who knows designer brands. Why, little ol’ me? I grew up on the streets of Bev’, always dreaming of being able to pronounce those names you wear. Nye…kay? Yeves Street Lauren? Oh, silly me, I’m just a poor little guy like you! What’s that? You’re not going to give me a dollar since I’m dressed head to toe in “more wealth than the moon”? How ’bout I pay you a dollar to listen to my story?
I was just a baby when I was born, unable to care for myself — or even speak! My famous actress mother and billionaire corporate father really struggled to support me and my hobbies. We couldn’t even afford to hold my seventh birthday party on Mars for the fifth year in a row! My childhood was so full of strife and struggle. They didn’t even let me own my own factory until I was 11! My private butler’s back broke and he had to be put down after being my step-stool for so long…Such a shame. Can you imagine the suffering I experienced? I dropped out of high school, as my genius was too much for my teachers to handle, and subsequently commandeered my father’s business, expertly running it into the ground. My Einsteinian knowledge isolated me within the enterprise. I was left fighting for the survival of the firm I had rightfully inherited. My parents objected to how I was leading my workplace, so I had to send them to offshore factories to meet my rising quotas. All of my friends — leeches — wouldn’t say yes to everything I wanted. Quite sad that I had to let them all go. I was forced to dry my own tears with hundred dollar bills! I was lonely. You seem like a lonely person, so you get it. My new AI therapist says I’m always right though; outsourcing is the answer to every question.
The obvious solution was to buy friends and get copious amounts of plastic surgery. Look at the wife I bought, isn’t she hot? I toss money at anything that idolizes me like the god I am, and I just love culture that sees me as influential, hip, and cool! Don’t you like buying your way into cultural phenomenon? That’s how it works for us kids nowadays, right? I arrived dripping in designer to last week’s celebrity party, sent a car with my face on it to the moon, and have appeared methodically on 17 random podcasts so people can’t forget about me and how normal yet powerful I am! Heh, I know you probably want a signature, but no-can do, chap. Those probably cost more than your teeth, seeing as I’m so popular and funny and smart and rich, yet just a little guy.
I’ll always think of the streets of good ol’ Bev’ Hills that raised me like their own… What’s that? No, you can’t have a dollar, I’m obviously broke and normal just like you!
When not deep in editing, Jenna often finds herself practicing laughs in the mirror or querying the universe on ways to be funnier.
