The Curious Adventures of Sparkinhoof: Episode 2 – Hoofin’ It for Justice
Marcie had just finished another exhausting day at Brand-o-Rama Corp. Her boss, Todd, had sent yet another “urgent” email marked with five exclamation points (which, in classic Todd fashion, was just a reminder about an upcoming meeting… next month). Her to-do list was longer than a CVS receipt, and the office coffee machine had the audacity to break down right before lunch.
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By the time she got home, she was ready to curl into a human burrito and stare blankly at the ceiling. But then, she spotted it. Sitting on the coffee table, like a beacon of hope in an otherwise dreary world: Cassie’s emergency relaxation joint.
Marcie glanced around. Cassie was out. No witnesses. No judgment.
She sighed and lit up.
As the first puff settled into her lungs, the familiar tingle returned. The walls shimmered, the air smelled faintly of cotton candy and righteousness, and suddenly—BAM!—Marcie was no longer Marcie. She was Sparkinhoof, the crime-fighting unicorn.
Just as she was admiring her dopely polished hooves (seriously, were they getting shinier?), a scream rang out from the alley behind her apartment.
Without hesitation, Sparkinhoof galloped to the scene, her hooves clinking against the pavement. She skidded to a stop in front of a scruffy-looking man yanking an elderly woman’s purse.
“Unhand that handbag, you ruffian!” Sparkinhoof neighed, striking what she hoped was an intimidating pose.
The mugger, clearly not expecting a talking unicorn, dropped the purse in shock. “What the—?!”
Sparkinhoof seized the moment. With a flick of her magnificent horn, she summoned a dazzling burst of confetti, momentarily blinding the thief. He stumbled backward, tripped over his own feet, and landed squarely in a pile of garbage.
The elderly woman retrieved her purse, eyes wide. “Thank you, dear! Are you… real?”
“As real as justice and a well-balanced work-life schedule, ma’am,” Sparkinhoof said with a wink.
Moments later, the transformation wore off. Marcie found herself standing in the alley, barefoot, wrapped in her favorite throw blanket like a lost medieval peasant. The old woman and the thief were gone, but a single rainbow-glitter hoofprint remained in a puddle.
She picked up her blanket and sighed. “I really need to start bringing shoes.”
Moral of the story: Always stand up for what’s right—but also, maybe keep a spare pair of sneakers by the door. 🌈✨
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