Information

Toni Michelle
Legacy Name: Toni Michelle

The Glacier Popoko
Owner: Oakley

Age: 13 years, 5 months, 3 days

Born: December 16th, 2010

Adopted: 13 years, 5 months, 3 days ago

Adopted: December 16th, 2010

Nominate Pet for Spotlight

Statistics

• Level: 1
   
• Strength: 13
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 10
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 1
   
• Books Read: 1
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

A day in the life...

“Have a nice day!” I recite with a smile. I honestly do not know why I bother keeping this façade. Working a drive-thru window at a fast food restaurant is an automatic forfeit of your natural rights. Here you are a robot; programmed with just enough corporate bullshit in orientation to pass the hiring assessment.

“Hello? Miss! I said you forgot the damn lettuce. Maybe if you were halfway competent you could get my order right!”

“Sir, I don’t make the orders, I only hand them out…”

“Oh, so you’re all idiots. You can tell your manger that he has lost my business, for good!” he barked before speeding out of the parking lot.

“You’ll be missed,” I mutter sarcastically. Thank God it’s time to clock out.

As I pull off my name badge I pause to look at it. The cheap lamination has already started to peel back on the corners. The letters are hardly legible under all of the grease and dirt… but that’s okay with me. My name is Michelle, but to customers it’s M I C E L L E… Hard evidence to support my argument that management doesn’t give a damn.

“I’m leaving now!” I call into the office, and as always there is no response. The people in this town would rather count change in their pocket than say a few nice words. My Mom is right though, I need to stop brooding about it. Ah well, c’est la vie in East Tennessee!

Finally my favorite time of the day – the ride home. All of my friends hate coming to my house, just because of the drive. I can’t blame them considering it is a forty-five minute drive (if you do the speed limit). As much as I love being around all the action, I could never give all of this up. Past all of the buildings, streetlights, and fresh asphalt is the magic that makes me never want to leave. As if it couldn’t get any better, it’s harvest time. The emerald fields run on for miles, dotted with hundreds of golden hay bales. The calves run and play in the pasture as their mothers gather around the pond. With each breeze the tree branches wave back and forth as if to say “Hello friend.” Ten miles in is Mr. Tate’s farm, a true marvel. Instead of using modern technology to make his job easier, Mr. Tate can be seen plowing his 10-Acre field with his two strongest horses – Lucky and Pinto. My mother and I argue about him all of the time. I tried telling her that he is traditional and her response was, “a traditional idiot!”

I’ve known Mr. Tate all of my life. When I was young I decided that I was going to sneak onto his farm and escape with one of his ponies. My reasoning at the time was that every seven year old princess had a pony. It felt like it took me forever to pedal my bike down the road to his farm. His old wooden fence was far enough off the ground to crawl under, but that wouldn’t have been much of an adventure. Using my pink jump-rope, I made my thirty minute climb over the 6ft fence. Once I made it over the fence I realized I forgot my peanut-butter sandwich in the basket on my bike. I didn’t feel like going through all of that again so I quickly dashed under the fence, grabbed my sandwich, and returned to my point of victory. I didn’t know until I was fifteen that he watched me the whole time, grinning from ear to ear. I sat and contemplated how to get the pony out of there and still keep my bike while the lightning bugs danced all around me. The next thing I knew I was wrapped in an old quilt, on top of a horse, with Mr. Tate carrying my bike and pulling me home. My mother stood on the porch with a look of pure anger towards me, but greeted him with kindness.

“I’m really sorry she put you through this,” she said, or something like that.

It was Mr. Tate’s response that I could never forget, “I always knew she was a princess, but I never knew she was Sleeping Beauty.” I turned pink as a cherry blossom when he turned towards me with his charming smile, “You’re always welcome to visit me and my horses, just make sure you get permission from the Queen.”

Credits

Profile by: Ringo
Overlay by: raichu

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