[have a bored little rich girl, criss-cross applesauce on her bed. She's been sitting in her house, doing NOTHING. Sure, the wishes thing was great the first fifty million times. But you can only wish for so much. Surrounding her is everything you could ever want but would never use. A riding crop (?!), a gong, a pink shovel, a treadmill, slime in
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It is not trash, thank you! It's the product of my imagination, thus utterly fantastic! You, sir, obviously cannot see it's worth...
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Just look at what you've created -- that forty-five dollar bill, for example. Why, that doesn't even exist!
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So? I've made it exist in this world! And I like it. You should too, but I see you have no mind to enjoy such things...
[Crossing her arms, she huffs, and if that wasn't enough, the partridge flies out of the pear tree and onto her hair, nestling there. Have THAT, Blondie.]
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If you like this junk so much, then why give it away? Could it be because you've realized how meaningless these things you've wished for truly are?
[Also, don't mind him busting out in laughter at the bird. It is like the whip cream and cherry on top of the cake.]
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They're not meaningless! I'm just generous. I'm much more creative than your pride'll let you admit, and I think these things should be shared with people!
[She snarls, gently taking the bird off her head, holding him close, and glaring intensely at that MAN. And she officially hates him.]
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You are generous in folly and fatuousness, I'll give you that. [Snickering.]
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