Sign Me Up For a Frivolous Lawsuit

I heard on the news the other day, or at least the second-hand news, that some dude just won a major cash settlement after he broke into somebody's house and they were out of Oreos. He was robbin' the joint and in the course of carting out the widescreen TVs and Jacuzzis and whatnot, he worked up a powerful hunger for some milk and cookies. So he went to the fridge, poured himself a big glass of milk, and then realized his shit was up a creek because these cruel motherfuckers had gone on vacation without leaving behind any Oreos. Yeah, they had some other cookies, some Soft Batch bullshit, but this dude was hungry for Oreos. And he was just shit out of luck. So when the family got back, he sued their asses for mental anguish, and made out like a bandit. Which is funny because he kind of was a bandit anyway.

Now normally I'd be all over that action myself, since I could definitely use the money, but my uncle's diabetic and I don't want to be stuck without cookies in case that shit runs in the family. It's hard to spend those millions when you're planted ass-up in the ground.

But the other day there was something in the paper they use to wrap fish 'n chips about some other dude who was suing the power company because he got shitfaced one night, broke into the power plant, climbed up a transformer tower and was blown clean across the street when he touched the wires. I also heard that his smoking nuts were still stuck to the tower, but that part wasn't in the paper. Probably to protect his family or whatever. Anyway, this dude was suing the power company because they didn't do a good enough job keeping him from blowing his ass up after he pulled the fence down with his truck, kicked down a door and scaled the 50-foot tower buck-naked.

Now after I checked in the mirror for electric burn marks, to make sure I wasn't the dude the papers were talking about, I began to hatch a plan. If this was all true it could be the best thing that ever happened, since it meant my whole life was one big, walking lawsuit. I could make a steady living off this shit without breaking a sweat. It'd be like getting paid to be Omar Bricks.

It's probably a good thing I never finished law school, because I obviously don't have a mind for this stuff. It never occurred to me to sue when I fell through the roof of that Taco bell when Dave and I climbed up there to make off with the bell. Sure, I still came out of the deal with a home décor rarity and conversation piece, but in retrospect I probably could have sued those thin-roof-having assholes out of a couple million, if not a lifetime supply of Nachos BellGrande.

It also never occurred to me that I've been shit on legally every time I've burned the hell out of my mouth on pizza, which is more times than I can count. I always knew those negligent fuckers where making the pizza too hot, but I never realized until now that I have legal recourse. I always just assumed it was my personal responsibility to wait until the cheese stopped bubbling before I bit into the damn thing. Hey, I'm not afraid to admit I was naïve.

But not any more. Now this game's got new rules, and a new name. It's called Omar Bricks Gets Paid For Shit That's Mostly His Fault. And I get the feeling I'm gong to kick some ass at this one. Now I just need to wait for some mishap to come knocking at the door.

Maybe I should buy some rollerskates. Bricks out.

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