My Life

I really love being well-rounded. I mean, I know people tend to lose me, but, seriously, I can do anything! When people find me they are overjoyed and, I don’t want to brag but, they kiss me and say, “yes!!” like I’m the thing that saved their lives or something.1

Of course, there are some strange people who say “I should really return this to who it belongs”…but, seriously, they should ask ME for MY opinion. I don’t BELONG to anyone, and if they ‘lost’ me it’s because they didn’t care about me anymore, or I escaped by…uhm…creating holes in…uhm…dark places. So whoever saves me from being filthy and kicked around on the floor deserves some kinda reward from me right?2

Yes, I definitely reward my saviors. They simply want something, and I give it to them, with the help of a few friends I tend to make in my new home. (I am quite amiable and tend to make friends everywhere I go…it’s just a thing I have I guess). Of course, after granting a wish I can’t stay with them (that won’t make me very special right?), instead, I usually go into this grand hotel where I can chat and rest with all my peers. Oh the delight!3

We share the stories, the wishes we granted to our loyal friends – for, without us, what can they do? Ahh those helpless things, for, without us they seem really, I donno, weird and discontent or angry at other people or something. We listen to what old Bill has to say too. For some reason, all the ones who look like him have the same name – Bill. It’s just that some of them have different numbers. I'm not saying that I don’t share my name with others, it’s just that, I really think my name suits me perfectly and that, like, I’m the epitome of my kind. I'm not bragging, just stating a fact.4

Oh, and there are some really strange ones of my kind. Don’t tell them this, but they’ve literally been blackened. Like, they're black instead of bronze or silver or gold. They hate us, think we’re “airheads” who’ve been polished up by our “masters” so much we don’t know what our real purpose is. They say that we serve these “humans” and that we’re only being used by them for their own selfish and greedy, black desires. Like, what a load of right?? They’re just jealous that they’re not as pretty as us…but…sometimes I wonder like, why they're so black? Where they trampled in the dirt or something? Or have the sins of “mankind” acted strangely on their souls?5

Gah. I don’t wanna know. They're just jealous. Yea 6

Anyways, I was talking about my kind right? Yea there’s these like, really old ones of us. They never talk. Like, never. I don’t know…there must be something wrong with them. We never die you see, unless like, some crazy person does something to us. But us tough little coins don’t break easy, no we don’t! So we live for quite a long time…and it seems like, the older you get, the less you speak, and the less you radiate your shine. I donno…I don’t think I’ll ever give up speaking! And I don’t ever want to become dim! I love my life! It’s like I was born only 20 years ago!!7

Oh well I better end this little rant of mine. Who would’ve guessed, me, a minty new freshman, writing a story about my life? Or, it could be a journal entry…but still! Ahh times come, times go, and I think I’m about to be taken outta Hotel Cashernia…off to a new wallet for me!!8

~Penny <39