Look out dudes and dudettes, coming through! I’m skating right through your house with my new Yogurt Product!
Watch your father spill his orange juice as I grind on the kitchen table. Every day, your father tells you what to do, makes up the rules, and punishes you. He makes you feel weak. But look at him now. He is pathetic. Savor his expression of inept confusion. A golden retriever licks juice off of his face, furthering his humiliation. Say, isn’t that the kind of dog you always wanted? The kind that your father told you is too large to keep?
The Yogurt Product liberates me from authority. I am your unrestrained id. I do, however, wear my helmet.
See me skate through your clean, upper-middle-class neighborhood’s school. Your teacher runs after me and blows her whistle, but I’m too fast. I’m too free. Your classmates cheer me on. I’m confident and gregarious. I smile and maintain eye contact. I don’t ever feel insecure or worry about social isolation. I know exactly who I am. I bathe in the approving gaze of your peers.
My eyes pop out orgasmically as I taste the Yogurt Product; such is the ecstasy it brings me. My world is bright and colorful. I am never bored. I am never sad or afraid or alone: I consume the Yogurt Product.