Pony Girl's Rubber Farm
Ponies:
“You need to get into the mood and mind set of the ponies. There is only one way for you to do that. You need to swap gloves!” she pointed out to me.
How I was to get into the mind of a pony, simply by changing gloves?
“The hoof gloves?” I asked, feeling very insecure at the moment.
I so desired to get into the proper mind set and mood for my job. To please her in every way. What if I did not match her expectations of me? I ran off into my room, picking a pair of gloves, matching what I figured she suggested. The hooves I had chosen, black, matching the once I was already walking on.
To slip them on, seems a problem? She soon is at my side. I hold out my right hand for her to slip the new glove on, in place of the one I had just slipped off of my hand earlier. The new glove fit as easily as could have been expected. She then pick up the other glove, helping me, as I hold up the other hand.
“Time to hit the stables!” she pointed out, before leading me to the barn.
What I noticed first, is how well my hooves did fit. As if I had been born with them? Getting down on all four was too natural for me, to even consider not to. With that, I followed her out the door. She happily lead me, into the stables, and the first box.
The very first I installed, as it turned out. The name already on the door. How Had I failed to notice? Not only the name, but a picture, a photo of me, on the very same door. Furthermore, I would have red, what was my dietary recommendations. What I was to eat, for the coming week. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to produce an image of me, as this pony?
For one, she had the suit, and it is designed to a specific look, I'd imagine. Just remains to fit my face into it? Still, the image is actually me. How ever did she come by that?
“Make yourself at home!” she said, as she left the door closed.
How I was to get into the mind of a pony, simply by changing gloves?
“The hoof gloves?” I asked, feeling very insecure at the moment.
I so desired to get into the proper mind set and mood for my job. To please her in every way. What if I did not match her expectations of me? I ran off into my room, picking a pair of gloves, matching what I figured she suggested. The hooves I had chosen, black, matching the once I was already walking on.
To slip them on, seems a problem? She soon is at my side. I hold out my right hand for her to slip the new glove on, in place of the one I had just slipped off of my hand earlier. The new glove fit as easily as could have been expected. She then pick up the other glove, helping me, as I hold up the other hand.
“Time to hit the stables!” she pointed out, before leading me to the barn.
What I noticed first, is how well my hooves did fit. As if I had been born with them? Getting down on all four was too natural for me, to even consider not to. With that, I followed her out the door. She happily lead me, into the stables, and the first box.
The very first I installed, as it turned out. The name already on the door. How Had I failed to notice? Not only the name, but a picture, a photo of me, on the very same door. Furthermore, I would have red, what was my dietary recommendations. What I was to eat, for the coming week. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to produce an image of me, as this pony?
For one, she had the suit, and it is designed to a specific look, I'd imagine. Just remains to fit my face into it? Still, the image is actually me. How ever did she come by that?
“Make yourself at home!” she said, as she left the door closed.