I deserve to rule the world. And everyone believes it, they just don't know it yet. But it's true; in the big scheme of things, I do deserve to be running planet earth. The world has never had a planetary government before, have they? Know why? Because I wasn't born yet. They simply couldn't find the right person to run the world, until now.
But by now, they aren't looking anymore. So I've got to take what's rightfully mine through whatever means possible. This is my plan for taking over the world. Read it and prepare.
The biggest reason why I'm not ruler of the world yet is that my school, the NeoNazi fascist regime it is, won't let me be anything I want. They want to populate their own little world with their own little people, and I refuse to be one of their pawns. Besides, if I were to go along with it, they'd end up making me a peer counsellor or something. Not what I want at all.
So this is what I do about school. I'll get ahold of some Lithium and some Nitreous Oxide from a one-eyed cancerous chemist who goes by the moniker of Bok Koi. Then I'll sneak them into all the bathrooms (with assistance from a female accomplish, just in case), place a large amount of lithium on the edge of the toilet seats and urinals, and get a TINY amount of detonative charge with cheap timers, just enough to blast the lithium into the toilet water all at the same time. Then I'll set the NO2 on slow-release, and wait for the fun to begin.
This is how it'll work : at precisely 10 AM, the timers reach zero and set off their charge. The lithium will be blasted deep into the water, and as anyone in chemistry knows, lithium and water react violently together, resulting in loud bangs and the destruction of the toilets. This will happen everywhere, so at least one Nazi will enter each bathroom, and be hit in the face with pure NO2, which happens to also be laughing gas. They'll hopefully pass out, but even if they don't, it will have been worth it. This will likely get me kicked out of school, in which case I can slap a libel suit on them and take them to court and ruin them forever, as well as making a couple hundred thousand off it all.
That takes care of my school. Who else... My parents. Okay, well because they actually went to the trouble of making me and birthing me, I'll let them off the hook and just run away to Brazil. That way they aren't involved just in case my plan goes awry (which is doubtful, but I do have my enemies). I'll legally change my name to Stone de le Fuente, and I'll begin slowly building up a marijuana cartel based in an abandoned Incan temple in the heart of South American rainforests, where I'll make sacrifices every day to the god of the marijuana leaf in order that he'll bless my crops. His name is Jose, by the way.
Now Jose is only a figment of my imagination, but I slowly become obsessed with him, and I delude myself into thinking that he's an actual deity. I don't smoke weed myself, as I have to save face in front of my lackeys (when was the last time you heard Fidel Castro got stoned?), but because all my henchmen do, and practice quite regularly, I might add, I might as well be doing it. Anyways, this contributes to my psychological trauma.
But one day, in a vision (or maybe I just breathed in too hard), I hear Jose calling to me, so I answer and find him to be a wizened old Peruvian witch doctor living as a hermit a few miles west of my Incan temple. Now what would a Peruvian be doing in Brazil? That's a stupid question, don't ask it. Well, since when do Peruvians have witch doctors? Look, I told you not to ask so many questions, now shut up or I'll take my plan elsewhere.
I approach Jose, and bow down to him, and he blesses me, and then he dies. And this angers me, because you see I had walked there, well I had a mule, but he broke three legs on the trip down, and an adder bit the fourth one, poisoning his bloodstream instantaneously. Anyways, so now I'm in this deserted guy's hut with a dead corpse lying across my feet, so I kick him and then get up and storm out, and as I'm leaving I light the place on fire. HAH! That'll show him, what, did he think he was God or something?
Yeah, so the next day I'll tear down the shrine I built to Jose, and the day after that I'll build one to Mike, the god of caffeine. But I don't make any sacrifices to Mike, because I don't want a repeat occurance of what happened before... So the shrine just sits there and gathers dust and I forget all about it and one day in the year 2297 these archeologist robots dig it up and suddenly cease to exist because if Mike is useful for one thing, it's making robots just suddenly cease to exist. Call it a quirk. I call it a foul.
Anyways, that's enough about that, I should get on with my story. All that's left to say in this section is that I get a parrot and I don't name him Jose.
I name him Orlando.
I steal this parrot from this man walking down the street who looks like he has enough money to buy a new parrot if he really wants to, and I ask the parrot what he'd like to be named.
"I want to be named King Ahkarendikorawentut."
"Why do you want to be named such an absurd name?"
"It's not an absurd name, it's a very nice name. My great aunt Mildred was named King Ahkarendikorawentut."
"Well I think it's a crude attempt to make yourself sound like a penguin, and I'll have none of it."
"You will so!"
"I will NOT. I will not call you that Ahka thing, it brings me no joy."
"Oh, PLEASE?!? Pretty please? I would do anything to be named King Ahkarendikorawentut. I would sell my grandmother's soul to be named King Ahkarendikorawentut. I would stomp on my nephew's tender toes to be named King Ahkarendikorawentut. Please?"
"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
"I may physically kill myself if you don't name me King Ahka-"
"All right, all right."
"You mean you'll call me that?"
"No, you can kill yourself, just don't say that name again. I'll find a new parrot."
And he does, and I do, and the new one is much easier to deal with, probably because he is comatose and has been that way for at least 500 decades, even during his brief stint on Monty Python. He is a very dusty parrot. I name him Orlando, and he agrees.
And believe it or not, Orlando plays a key role in my taking over the world. We're getting to it.
Well, by this time my marijuana cartel has become a world wide empire, and so I move out of the majestic Incan temple and into a tiny little bathroom in Mrs. Marina Q. Juffleheimer's suite in New Zealand, abandoned because she thought the lizard man was returning and fled in terror. From there I can conduct my affairs with even greater annoyance and difficulty than I ever would've been able to accomplish living in luxury. So there.
I sell my business to some guy in the States named Ross or something, (he has credentials, okay?) and invest in dental floss. But this isn't just ordinary mundane dental floss, oh no; This is multicolored and very fun dental floss. Children love my multicolored and very fun dental floss, they begin to buy it by the armloads. 7-11s restock their shelves because M&Ms are barely selling, those rubbery coke bottles are hardening, and the candy Popeye cigarettes have simply ceased to exist, so they become dental floss stores and kid go and blow their allowance in them. The parents get really worried after a while :
"Honey, junior went and spent all $2,500 of his allowance at the dental floss store!"
"All of it? I'm going to have to teach that kid a lesson... He'll rot his teeth all week, if I have anything to do with it! Toss me a package of those PopRox, hey?"
"Oh, dear, I'm so proud of you, you're never thinking of your health..."
Anyways, here's the catch: I lace each of those packages of dental floss with a mind altering drug called Bunko. Bunko convinces the children that a man dressed as a giant green albatross must rule the world. So ten years after I start distributing this laced floss, I dress up as a giant green albatross and appear before my flonging crowds. Flonging? Thronging, flogging. Flonging, see?
They all begin to worship me, and I tell them that I am their leader, and they ooh and aah, and build me a giant green nest in the Himalayas which I share with Orlando, or at least I will when he awakens. And I have this feeling in my gut, I think it's around the pancreas or the gall bladder or something, that he WILL come out of it.
That's easy. I tell everyone what to do, until they wake up and realize that they're being bossed around by a nutcase in a giant green albatross suit. They'll mob me, but the passion will still be in their hearts and even though I'm hiding in Spain in a little abattoir near a button store, they'll build shrines and hold ceremonies and build a religion around me. And I shall be revered forever and a few weeks after that, too.
Oh, right, Orlando... Well, he's the one that tipped off the authorities about the money laundering... I had this whole chain of cash-only laundromats across the country in little hidden away corners... I'm surprised I made the bundle off it I did, considering it did nothing to people's money except crumple it up and wash out the ink (I can't believe they'd even use bleach!) and make it generally useless. But that's okay. It amazing what one can accomplish while in a coma.
And then we all die flaming, hideous deaths. Bah hah hah.