I Switched To Oat Milk And Now I’m Perfect
Back up, peasants! Make way for the king! Let it be known that I, Michael A. Pridgen, have switched to oat milk and am now perfect as a result. After an accidental wrong turn down the soy cheese and lactose-free yogurt aisle, my eyes happened upon the 60 calorie-per-serving life elixir that would make my body eternal. It was beautiful. I had to have just… one… sip… and BOOM! I barreled out of the Columbus Ohio Whole Foods in a spontaneous running sprint, knocking several people over as the certified organic oat beverage began to envelop my mortal vessel. My stride grew wider and more powerful and I ascended to the sky. I had achieved my final form.
If you have doubts about what oat milk can do to improve your life, I shall stand before you in my glorious perfection to prove you and my doctor wrong. I am an immaculate Greek sculpture, meticulously carved and molded by the gentle guiding light of the oat’s holy nectar. I’m like an endangered species where I’m the only one left. The rest would have died off because they weren’t ultra-excellent earth Deities with supernatural strength and abilities to prevent their stupid, weak bodies from dying. I’m like a Rhino, but way cooler, with six horns and radical biceps. Call me Rhino Dude from now on, that’s my new name. You can’t wear it out, I’m unbreakable.
At this point, you’re probably wondering where you can send me money and tributes, but not everyone worships me as they should. My doctor has strongly suggested I take supplements, and I’ve strongly suggested that he shuts his stupid mouth. All that skin peeling off is just my ultimate form emerging from this pathetic human cocoon. I don’t need anything else. I have evolved beyond the desire for your hormone soaked cattle piss, your devil’s cream, your lactic pond scum. I have evolved beyond all mortal cravings. Those days of embarrassing inferiority and inadequacy are behind me. I milk what refused to be milked. I drink what refused to be drunk. Babies drink cow. Gods drink Oat.
You’ve come to me looking for help, but I don’t think you truly appreciate how much I’m doing for you by sharing this information. Let’s get one thing straight, scrubs; there’s no 2% with oat milk. Oat milk gives you 100% all the time. If I’m 100%, and I add the 100% that oat milk gives me, that leaves me at 200% of the man I once was. For those of you with Rotten Milk Brain Disease who are having trouble keeping track, I’m 200% better than you. It’s big math, you wouldn’t get it. I’ll understand it for you. You’re welcome.
“So, Rhino Dude, how do I become perfect like you?” you shyly ask, bones weak and chattering, on the verge of structural collapse from years of torturing your dumb skeleton with bovine trash water. The answer is simple: you can’t, but you can self-help yourself to a glass of shut-the-hell-up to start. When I get the chance, I’ll let God know you have my permission to try oat milk anyway. He’s an old pal, kinda looks up to me like a big brother. He’s always complimenting me on my immortality.
Due to my correct and infallible lactose-free lifestyle, I can do anything and go anywhere and will never be sick or injured in any way. Last week on my way to the ER, they said I briefly flatlined from a “severe lack of nutrients.” As I angrily tore the IV drip out of my arm and slipped out through the parking lot, I began to laugh, realizing those cowards thought I needed a heartbeat. Oat runs through my blood now. All things must surrender to the unstoppable and destructive march of time, except me. I am Forever.
Look, if everyone was perfect, nobody would be perfect. I’m proud to stand as the benchmark, the milestone, the shining time capsule of human perfection from which children for generations to come will draw their inspiration. I might make it look easy, but carrying the massive weight of my accomplishments is a burden only I am strong enough to bear, thanks to oat milk. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Just know I’m doing this for you, because you can’t, because I’m perfect. So, let’s raise a glass of oat milk and make a toast to my invincible body, my limitless generosity, and my everlasting perfection. Ignore the cough, it’s nothing.
Rhino Dude, God’s boss
P.S. If you see me passed out in an alleyway surrounded by empty cartons of oat milk, do not touch me. I’m allowing myself to recharge.