It is very important to me, to be seen as... bulletproof.

Darkness enveloped him.
Postage prices had risen again: he was unable to return to sender.

Frustrated, with this heavy package he didn't want, he walked about town until he ran out of gas.
Low on change, and high on pride, he was unwilling to fill up.
If only he were an electrolyte-hybrid, he'd be able to reduce the emissions of his soul.
In turn, fulfilling his responsibility to Mother Earth.

At the end of the day, happily he lay down.
Correction. Lie.
A month later and still unable to cope with present truths he rewrapped them: to be regifted at a later time.

Somewhere across town she was getting ready.
She put on her face: eyes then lips.
Then her hair.
Ears last.

She sat and stared in the mirror.
Made sure nothing was crooked, and that everything was where it needed to be.
Such a pretty face.

Blemish free.

This perfect face is what she would show the world.
For very few were deserving enough to see her imperfection.

With a sigh, she turned off the light, and locked the door.

Such is the life...
of Mrs. Potato Head.