If I should win the lottery,
I’d beat up a random man,
Then pay all of his medical bills
Just because I can.
I’d apply to every job,
And the ones I’d get I’d quit,
Because I wouldn’t need the money
So I wouldn’t give a shit.
I’d buy every scratch off ticket
And win the lottery again,
Because I’m super greedy,
And don’t know how to “say when.”
I’d go and find a hooker
And ask her to be my bride,
Then say I’d met her at a synagogue
But secretly know that I lied.
I’d fake my own death
And pay the doctors to keep silent,
Then show up at my own funeral
And make things get very violent.
I’d get full body plastic surgery
To fix every single imperfection,
Then commit a bunch of crimes
And beat the police’s facial detection.
I’d buy a private island
And fill myself with rage
To impersonate my favorite celebrity,
The incomparable Nicholas Cage.
And of course I’d donate some
To a deserving charity,
A charity that I like to call
The bank account of me.
Psych! I wouldn’t give any away
Because the money would be all mine,
And then I’d pretend to be a bum
And ask “Can you spare a dime?”
But that’s if I win the lottery,
Something that I will never do,
So this poem is pointless,
As pointless as me and you.
P.S. You can see me perform this week. A while back, I wrote a monologue on here about Charlie Bucket being all grown up. I am performing that monologue on Thursday, July 30, at 7:30 P.M. at the Philadelphia Improv Theater. Check it out!!