What a surprise it was this morning to find myself being hauled from my little cardboard box and hustled off to durem in the wee hours of the morning. It seems that my original has caught wind of some strange scheme concerning gaia's first superhero.
As i was prodded past the Barton fountain in the grays of morning, i saw my dear, sweet Cindy Donovan reporting an interview with a strange man in a cape and mask. I barely had time to flounder, however, as i was quickly led into the wilderness between Barton and Durem.
Upon reaching Durem, my eyes positively bulged in shock, a long line waited outside Moira's store which i, and my mule-mate were quickly prodded into along with my orinigal, who seemed positively bubbly at the whole aspect of it. After waiting in line for a while, i noticed the stream of people moving away from the store all chirped and bubbled as merrily as my original, while carrying off wigs in the imitation of Sasha, the Gambino Outfitters shopkeeper.
The line moved slowly, my vision focused on that ever present stream of gaians, both men and women delightfully babbling, a few even donning the curious wigs. My mule-mate was positively a flutter with the prospects of the plan that my original had apparently been telling us as we waiting in line, being jostled by people. Elbowing her in the side, i asked what on earth was going on. My face froze in horror, however, as she happily chattered away about the New Years ball and Gaia's first Superhero aspiring to kiss Sasha. Our original planned to stick us up with herself (and the rest of the gaia populace, it appeared), as fake Sasha's!
Even now, as i don this hideous monstrosity of a wig, my mind searches frantically for a way to escape the plan. Hopefully, my original will abandon thoughts of my involvement. After all, it would be no loss to her, the tight scrooge of an original had even made me use my own meager gold supplies to buy this thing.
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]+[I'm Female ]+[
That's me.
]+[I am proud to be Heart Shaped Toastie's Mule]+[
See my Journal for the monochrome life of a poor, opressed mule