Your hooves make you sound like a horse.
Don’t you mean my clip-clopping shoes?
No, no you heard me correctly.
But you’ve got it all wrong, I’m not horse. I’m more like a unicorn. Don’t you see my sparkly glitter mane? My metallic horn prodding from the very centre of my skull?
He considered this for a moment.
What I see is a horse in unicorn’s clothing.
I blink. What gave it away?
The paper mache wasn’t really fooling anyone AND its all about noticing the finer details such as your sweaty forehead from the weight of the mane-wig. Your scalp must be on fire with the synthetic material..
It was but I resisted the urge to scratch the hell out of it, Anything else?
His eyes lingered on me. The masking tape. Its fairly obvious isn’t it? I’ve never met a unicorn with masking tape around its horn. Except maybe one made on playschool. I think you can be cleverer than that.
You really think so?
I know so AND you know what else? You can also be the prettiest unicorn that ever, ever was too.
I was pretty chuffed. It was going to be a good day.