Stuart Minkus. What kind of a mother names her child Stuart? My mother. I blame her for my non-existent love and social life. She's the one who always pushed me to try my best, to be smart. It's thanks to her I'm a friendless, dateless, genius, billionaire who's the head of his own multi-billion dollar corporation. But let me tell you, I'd trade it all for one date with a decent looking girl who doesn't run away when she hears my duck-call voice and thick-rimmed glasses. Heck, I'd be happy to marry a moose like Eric Matthews did. He turned out all right, didn't he?

It's not like I had a shot with Topanga always. Sure she was brilliant but she was a bit too strange for me. Who am I jesting? Every day I would park myself in a chair and clandestinely worship the ground she sauntered on. Every day I would wish that I were an accomplice to one of Sean's pranks. Every day I'd yearn to have parents like Cory's, who were okay with him being average. For those of you who think its easy being a Minkus, you're wrong. It's extremely difficult. I desired to be one of those average guys. I tried to fit in with them but to no avail. I was too far-gone in the world of brainpower. Sure, now they're busy running from the IRS, stealing butter and salt packages from restaurants, and cheating little old ladies out of a coupon at the local dollar store, but they're so lucky. I have something they don't have. Money. But they have something I want. A life.