I step outside into the crowded street of New York. I put on my heart shaped sunglasses as I strut my way through the crowd.
"People are staring at you" my weave whispers in my ear.
"No," I reply back, "at us."
All is going well, but then i see what i'm about to have to endure. "Oh, no. Peasants, dirty filthy peasants!" I cry.
I maneuver my way through the peasants using my weave as a weapon. One gets within my perimeter so i whip my hair around to fling the peasant across the dirty street. Unfortunately for him a bus is coming as soon as he gets midway through the street and his body is split in half.
"sorry" i tell my weave in a weary voice , for the blood from the filthy peasant has been splattered on my weave.
"No biggy." she replies back, but i know deep down she is very sad.