Congratulations on Being Beaten with Oranges!

You’re a deadbeat. Your wife knew it, your dad knew it and even your adopted Korean son that you put through college (mostly with blood and semen) knew it. But for some reason the banking system is blissfully unaware of your status as an inveterate debtor, and as a result you keep getting loan after loan. It might be your baby blue eyes, or your fourteen inch penis. We’re not really sure, to be totally honest.

But the one thing we can be sure of is that tomorrow you’re finally going to mess up: you’re going to run afoul of a credit union. See credit unions aren’t subject to the same level of scrutiny as large banks, and as a result they can sometimes use methods of questionable legality in order to reacquire funds from their debtors. Sometimes that means tactics that border on harassment, like sending reps to your door and calling you late at night to try and get you to pay up. In your case your handsomeness and incredible wang make those conventional methods of intimidation considerably less effective, so they’re going to go with something more traditional.

Yesterday they hired an ex-professional wrestler (the Umbaudsman, who “ended conflicts with a chair,” who lasted a meager four seasons due to his normal looking build and relatively calm demeanor) to come to your home and beat you in an excessively painful fashion that will leave little or no evidence. He’ll briefly toy with the idea of savaging you using bars of soap, but he’ll decide against it after realizing that the soap could be considered evidence, even if it was later used in personal hygene, and that it could be misconstrued as an act of support for the Iraq war.

After a twenty minute brain storming session with his roommate, the Umbaudsman will have decided to use oranges, which could then be disposed of at his roommate’s job at Orange Julius the next day (which is now tomorrow). So he’s going to roll up on your house at midday today, kick in your door and smack you with a pillow case full of ripe, juicy fruit until you go blind. When you call the cops they’ll arrive, examine the scene and laugh, assuming you broke in your own door in an attempt to bamboozle them out of funds. The oranges, you see, will leave no bruises.

After a nice long laugh at how great a prankster you are they’ll file out of your home calmly and you’ll receive a call from your credit union asking if you’ve made any progress on that payment. You’ll cough a little bit and tell them that they’ve won, giving in for the first time in your life and cutting a check with the receiver to your ear for the entire sixty three dollars you owe those heartless bastards.

Congratulations on Being Beaten with Oranges!