On saving up for a Ferrari

Browsing through Facebook, I saw on Lim Guan Eng's page photos of the opening of a Super Car Club. At first, I thought, 'Supercar? Do they fly and are they allergic to kryptonite? Do they wear their engines inside out?'

Then I saw a photo of a fleet of Ferraris, and I realized that 'Super Car' actually meant super expensive cars, not cars with super powers. Silly me.

I saw a photo with a group of middle-aged men, presumably the owners of the super cars. I said to myself, 'I need to bag me one of those.'

As I rolled about in bed, I scolded myself for my shallowness. Bag me a rich man just so that I'll have my own Ferrari? Christ, I don't want to do that. I'll just buy me a goddamn Ferrari with my own money. Much more gratifying.

I'll just have to take on about ten jobs, work 24 hours seven days a week, not eat, and camp in a cave. I guess I could eat, I could trap pigeons and stuff. I might even grow my own tobacco to smoke. Ferrari, you will be mine one day!