Anyone who would see me walking along the street or look through my window to catch a glimpse of the wonderful moi (wonderful for my extreme modesty, of course), would likely notice my lack of “essential” teenage adornments. To ensure that the reader does not think of me as a simple commoner always walking around without makeup, I will write to whomever it concerns as to why this is the case in a hypothetical situation--as if I was a high rank in a hierarchical society made up of my cosmetics.
I hold a noble status; my various fragrances, lotions, and other potions and concoctions are my peers, commanders, and subjects, and some even dare to spark my ire. The most respected of all the kingdom of “OMG it Looks like a Tornado Hit Your Room”…show more content… If I were to rid myself of this scoundrel, I would not be able to live with myself, as the mischievous sweetheart unfortunately has grown on me and I occasionally think of him as a wonderful citizen. Another and probably the worst rebellious citizen in the kingdom is, hands down, Sir Peppermint Lip Gloss. His wares may as well be treacherous poison, as they leave my mouth searing with a burning, minty fresh pain. This is not exaggerating, as my family and friends may say, but all too true. No, I am not allergic, but my current hypothesis is that Sir Peppermint is out to kill me, in contrast to the likes of Madame Strawberry Jam Chapstick or Frau Sun-Ripened Blackberry Lotion.
Madame Strawberry Chapstick and Frau Sun-Ripened Blackberry Lotion are not offenders of capital crimes, nor are they qualified to become council elders, but they simply exist to exist; their origin is unknown. They will never bring enough attention to themselves so that they could rise through the ranks, although they seem at peace with that. They always become lost and never be remembered until they are discovered on trash day, peeking out of their abodes long enough to have their existence noted. It doesn’t help me remember them when