So I hoofed it in on Elleon, who complained that she'd just dug into a good patch of clover and didn't want to leave off, but she took me for another glorious day at the muse factory, where we're still flogging those poor critters for all they're worth.
Got in half an hour late and Dispatch was furious, which means they put me on clean up. The miners must have hit a rich vein and been clocking in some serious overtime 'cause man, we are overrun with fresh ones, at least a thousand of 'em just this morning. And some of 'em are just plain freaky, even for muses. When I turned the hose on them in the wash-up chamber, instead of 'em all huddling back agaisnt the far wall like they're made out a sugar and gonna melt (and we haven't had one of those in years, and then I caught her before she went under the hose and that foot healed up just fine, thankyouverymuch) a good third of them were squabbling for position to be takin' it head on. I told 'em, "Calm down, girls, no one's gettin' outta here 'til you've all gotten good 'n soaked," but they didn't listen to me.
Some of them cleaned up just beautiful. Whoa! I tell you, this batch is wasted on the pleebs, but then again, aren't they all? I hate wrappin' up and shippin' them off; I just know they'll end up in the hands of some ignorant kid or overworked corporate exec who can't or won't take the time to treat 'em right. They think "Once I have ideas I'll be set for life" and never mind that that what they need to do is nurture those ideas an' develop some skills to showcase 'em. Neglected and abused and misused, those poor dumb muses, I pity 'em all.
But some of today's -- man, it breaks my heart to think of where they're going. One of them is a unicorn girl -- I thought she was a dapple at first, but no, she washed off to pearly white and with her mane brushed out she looks a treat, all blue-eyed innocence and purity, makes me think of jordangreywolf, but I can't ask him to take in another, he's got 'em sproutin' like weeds in his backyard already.
And another one that stood out -- total wild one, she was tearin' around the wash-up chamber like the devil himself was after her, not runnin' from the hose, just runnin' everywhere, in ten directions at once. Didn't respond to threats nor cajoling, but when I just yelled "Stand still!" she froze in place like a statue. Her eyes, I swear they're almost as big as her head, all glowing silver, set in a matte black face with a mouth like a tumbled ruby. Her hair is a mass of wavy optic-fiber strands, changing color from moment to moment through a rainbow cascades. I told Dispatch to get me a can of metal polish -- I think her arms and legs will shine up like mirrors with a little work.
Man, I'd snarf 'em and take 'em home myself, but I got five already at home and I can't take care of all of them, I got no more business takin' another than a CEO mom single-parenting five kids does. And who am I to judge? Some people manage to carve time even from the busiest schedules to feed their muses. I mean, look at howardtayler. Maybe they'll get good homes.
[Edit: Boy, that black-faced one looks incredible after a polish, and she can be as docile as you please if you know how to treat 'er. What a waste! Hey, queenofstripes, you don't have space for another, do you? I'll snarf her for you an' find some way to ship her in, if you want ....]