Humor
Mwahaha, I’m The Evil Genius Who Created The Kiddie Ride
Tantrums = cash!
If I had a dollar for every tantrum because of a kiddie ride, I’d be a millionaire. Well, the joke’s on you, sucker parents, because my pockets are lined with conniption cash. That’s right, you procreating chumps! I’m the billionaire evil genius behind these frenzy-for-kids but dread-for-parents toys.
Oh, I know you know the ones. They’re big, colorful, based on the most annoying TV shows, strategically installed in the busiest spots in shopping malls, and send your Cutie Pies into manic-depressive episodes.
Like a bright-colored skivvy is to a Wiggle, so these rides are to your Precious Buttercup — irresistible. Like food is to Daddy Pig, so these rides are to your Ray Of Sunshine — seductive. Like Elmo’s ‘Happy Dance’ is to Oscar the Grouch, so these rides are to parents — an unwanted stressor on an already tired mind.
Let’s be honest with each other, the rides aren’t even any good. Maybe some vibrations, a bit of a jiggle, and possibly some music and flashing lights if you live in an upper-middle-class schmancy suburb. But your Sweet Peas lose their little minds around these things. Then you lose your paycheck to me. Ka-ching!
Your Munchkins’ weakness is my gain. Their adorable developing brains can hold a singular thought at a time. I make sure that thought is: the only thing I will ever need in life is to get on that ride and I need to do it now! Then your less adorable deteriorating brain can hold a singular thought: I just wanted to get some groceries, please please please don’t have a meltdown.
Somehow, these slot machines for kids are even more addictive than a babyccino and a marshmallow. And the profit margin is tenfold. I know I said earlier that each tantrum made me a dollar. But it’s actually more like three. Someone is winning the war on inflation.
That’s not all, you begetter of life. No matter how much you try to disinfect the ride, your Little Angel will always catch an illness. These money makers are like a Petri dish with a full catalog of every disease that has ever afflicted humankind. Your Bite-Sized Bugaloo is guaranteed to catch anything from the common cold to the bubonic plague.
I know you want to hunt me down and clobber me like Mr. McGregor did to Peter Rabbit’s dad, but don’t hate the player, hate the game. The game being whatever simplistic Tetris-type amusement I put on the scratched-up screen of the kiddie ride. I know you despise the game.
Honestly, I’ve had enough success with these to last me as many lifetimes as there are episodes of Cocomelon. So I’m moving on to a new creative project. I’m thinking something like a non-educational addictive phone game with loads of in-app purchases, specifically designed for your Sweetheart’s impulsive little mind.
Mwahaha.
