This stupid pony is like a remote control. I've only had him for a week, and I've already lost him in the couch cushions maybe three times. I have tried time and time again to make him three-dimensional, and nothing works, not even the bike pump. The bike pump experience was mortifying by the way, I won't go into details, but lets just say that my solid gold therapist got a lot of visits that day.
I've been watching the TV show recently, and I guess these things start talking when they're around a month old. Thank goodness I have three weeks left to prepare myself for such horrors. It's becoming increasingly difficult to bask in my incredible wealth, namely because I'm using it to take care of this little freak.
At least he'll be out of my hair when I get a new acting job. There's no way I'm taking him to a studio with me. I can't let him be around anyone aside from all of the people who enter my home on a daily basis. God forbid the government gets ahold of him.
That wacky government would probably dissect the little bastard. Actually...no at least...not yet. I want to see if I can reform him before I watch him die. Besides, I'm pretty sure it was Hulk Hogan who said "If you break it you buy it," not that that's in any way applicable to the situation.
I lean forward and grab a Kindle to see what is going on in the poor man's world. Seems the crime rate has skyrocketed these past few days, but I'm too rich to care about that. The damn pony is asleep on my expensive sofa again. He suddenly stretches his fuzzy forelegs out. I get up, Kindle in my hands, ready to smack the thing in the face if he even thinks about pissing on it, but he just moves onto his side.
I suppose it's time to throw out my Kindle. I call over my trash can, which is actually a solid gold genetically engineered trash can man. See, I'm rich, so I don't ever need to get up to throw things away.
Oh! It's my iPhone maid. Yeah, I have a maid for my iPhone. It's an iPhone 9 that I got from the future, and I use it to teleport.
"Nicholas Cage," she says to me,"you have a phone call."
"Thanks Kathy," I take the phone from her and hold it up to my ear,"Hello?"
"Mr. Cage, it's your agent, I got you a spot in National Treasure Three. Plus you'll be the only actor, which means you'll be the best."
"Thats high praise," I say,"Thanks Keith."
Perfect, I think to myself. Now I can get away from this damn pony.
"No problem. Bye."
I put the phone down and turn my attention to the two dimensional thing occupying my favourite spot on the couch. I grab another Kindle and swing it, knocking him out.
"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT PISSING ON MY COUCH?!" I seriously hope he isn't dripping blood on my platinum floor. He's so ungrateful. I got him his own mansion for Richmas and he still comes into mine and pisses everywhere. He knows damn well where his gold bathroom is, and he's very lucky I didn't give him a bronze bathroom. If you were as rich as people in this city are, you'd know bronze is equivalent to rat droppings. Oh, great, he's conscious again. I watch the blonde bastard crawl out from behind my now piss-stained couch. Why is he opening his mouth? Before I can figure out why, he answers for me with an ear-shattering wail.
I try everything I can to stop this thing from crying. I offer him all of my gold bars (Which are worthless to someone as rich as me, but he doesn't know that), then threaten to make him go back to sleeping in his sapphire-encrusted mansion instead of his diamond-encrusted one. (He hates sapphires for some reason, well actually I sort of understand. Sapphires are like common pebbles in this Mansionhold, but they're still pretty so who cares?)
I give up and set him up on a date with a plank of wood and a right hook. It's like his atomic structure is mocking me, I really wish he wasn't from a squash and stretch. Honestly, why couldn't I have gotten some anime creature, maybe a Pokemon. At least I'd be able to kill a Pokemon if it pissed me off, but this thing is borderline indestructible.
I'm sick of this goddamn blond marshmallow bastard. I gotta get rid of him, but how? My thoughts are broken by the sound of a car door slamming. I look my through my opium telescope, since I need one to see out across my huge ass front yard, and my eyes widen when I see the visitors shitty blond toupee.
It's my maid, Donald Trump. He must have gotten back from his unpaid vacation. I may be rich, but it doesn't mean I want to actually, you know, spend money unless I need to, or of course if I'm feeling like a James Bond villain, but that's only sometimes. I may seem like a frivolous spender to you guys, but I need all of the things I own.
Besides, by normal people's standards, Donald is loaded with cash, even though it's just green paper with dead people's faces on them, whereas my cash was so valuable I actually had a new currency made. Oh well, I wonder how big his mansion is. If you could even call it a mansion, I bet it isn't even as large as my summer home. My thoughts are once again broken by the opening of his servant quarters's door. Which is right next to me.
"Nicolas, I'm back, anything you need me t-" He stares in shock and slight arousal at the sight before him. Shock at the sight of an unconscious, two dimensional cartoon pony at his feet, and arousal at the sight of me. After knocking out Donald with the same 2 X 4 and right hook combo, I sit down on my recently cleaned $30,000,000 couch (That Blueblood still likes to use my couch as a toilet), and think about what I do next.
What to do with these two? I quickly lay Donald on his bed and use my magic Cage powers to heal his bruises, that way he can't sue me for being harmed on my property. Not that he'd win, unlike you normal people, I'm so rich that my lawyer is actually just all of the people in the jury, so I win every lawsuit I get involved in. Hopefully, he'll think it was all a dream or something. I then grab Blueblood and put him in a pet carrier and get into my Ferrari. I only drive it because I got it for Richmas( My other maid, Oprah got it for me. It was a nice gesture, and I was both delighted and confused when it was somehow under my chair, but I do plan to re-gift it later). I quickly drive to the nearest government building, which happens to be a post office, dump him at the entrance and knock. Aterwards I go back to my car and sit in the front seat.
"Finally, that thing is gone. Out of my life." I begin to drive off when I hear a clip-clop noise on the ground next to me.
"DADA! DADAAAAA!" How the hell did he get out of that carrier? I immediately put my foot on the pedal and speed along the road. I don't care if I get a ticket, I just don't want Blueblood to catch up to his "dada". Sheesh, parents abandon their children every day and most of them just cry for a while then go live with a foster family. Gotta hand it to this awful 2-D horse, he's persistent.
At this very moment, he could be on an operating table, being dissected by a team of government workers and instead he is running after me on a busy street. My car suddenly stops and I'm sent headfirst through the window, the air and into a tree. My vision is hazy, as there is now blood in my eyes. Out of the corner of my eyes I can see a small white shape approaching me. Oh god, it's Blueblood. I yell in pain as he nuzzles me on the cheek. When did this cretin start liking me? He hated me no two weeks ago, and I hated him, I still hate him.
"Dada." He says happily, still nuzzling me. Oh great, he's learning to speak, that'll be just dandy.
I hope his real father comes and takes him back soon.
My vision fades as the sweet embrace of unconsciousness engulfs me. Finally I can rest.