Everyone's day is just that much brighter for talking to me today! It's really fantastic how much energy everyone has today. I can actually feel how I've changed everyone's day for the better so far. It's like I've done a little miracle for each; finding some money for someone, giving someone else the dollar coins they never thought to ask for, anticipating everyone's questions. It's fucking fantastic!
I'm getting lots of compliments on my nails, and from some unlikely sources. My mom freaked that I was going to work like this, but as I said, it's just fingernails, and so far, everyone seems to agree. If old Jewish matrons can handle something my darling Catholic mother can't, well, what's that say about religion? Not much, but shh, don't tell my readers that. I haven't gotten any offers (aside from Seiry's) for me to do anyone's nails yet, but you never know!
I'm glad I didn't do this in high school. It would have been a crusade of obstinacy and a source of furious argument. Now I'm mature enough to say, hey, it's just fingernails. At least I was mature enough then to know that much.
I like me! Other people do to! Draw conclusions as you will, and live by them. You might just end up happy, too.
I like talking to people! I like it when I talk to people and they listen and understand me and ask questions when they don't that show they're listening. I like listening to people talk, for hours on end, as long as it sounds like they understand. When it doesn't feel like people understand, I am more likely to find something more interesting on the ground or out the window.
I called the IRS and the lady I talked to was very nice and helpful! She didn't seem very "OhMiGod it's tax season again and these people are STILL RETARDED" to me at all. Best of all, I have three YEARS to claim my refund, since I'm pretty sure I don't owe. Geez, I better not owe. I want my money back sooner, in case it helps me buy a car. Yay, car.
Yay, people. I have to admit, it's not all always for fun. Sometimes, I like to show off my large, succulent brains. I'm not ashamed. More like proud, or whatever the opposite of not proud is. As long as I'm not boring people with it, and if I am, they need to tell me so so I will know so!
Something I found lying around my hard drive...
There was a scream down an alley. Action Figure Man™ sped to the rescue. He stumbled upon a woman being accosted by a man with undeclared intent. AFM took the corner into the alley at top speed, barreling into the man, allowing the woman to escape. In the tangle of limbs that lie on the cold, dirty ground, the assailant, weapon already drawn, attacked. AFM was caught off guard, and the knife cut a shallow nick into his plastic molded exterior. Angered, AFM took a mighty spring-loaded swing at his attacker, decking him solidly across the jaw. AFM smiled smugly to himself, knowing full well that one shot was all he needed.
As he exited the alley, the victim ran up to him hysterically screaming her thanks. Then she sobered, remembering how he'd been slashed in her stead. She took his arm, crying, "You poor thing! Let me have a look at this."
AFM gritted his teeth as she screamed and fainted. He looked at his sliced arm. Not bad, he thought. He took the unconscious perpetrator's knife and held it in a nearby trashfire until it glow dull red. Then he melted the wound shut, leaving his molten skin smoothed over it. At least he didn't have a gun, AFM thought. Covering up nicks is one thing. Filling in holes is another. He then discarded the knife in the fire. He picked up the unconscious female, and carried her to the hospital for observation.
"Action Figure Man!" the nurse at the ER desk read from his chest.
"Don't worry," AFM assured her. "She's just had a bit of a fright. She should be coming around soon. Just look after her, make sure she gets home safe, files a police report, that sort of thing."
"Police report? Hey, wait, where are you going?"
AFM turned at the sliding ER doors. "To break evil," he delivered coldly, as practiced a thousand times before, while the door slid shut on him.
AFM ran into the night, ready to dispense injection-molded justice left and right. One of the great things about being plastic was that AFM required no sleep. He wouldn't know how to if he needed to. With no food needed, and no clothing save that which was painted onto his body, he managed to live a pretty day to day life. Of course, not being able to sleep was also a big problem. He was left with a lot of daylight on his hands, as most crime occurred after dark. So, to maintain a home base more than a living space, he'd taken a job at a plastic toy factory. It was a great place to pick up spare parts. It wasn't really a good place to keep a secret identity. Especially not when he drove up to work every day on the Action Cycle™ which had his initials clearly cast on it. So everyone knew he was a plastic superhero. It wasn't exactly a secret, anyway. Who wouldn't notice something a little odd about a 6'5" plastic guy who walks around talking about breaking evil?
Plastic life was strange, granted.