Small Green Certificate

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The 2nd person POV of an inanimate object. ---Warning: Content includes potential sexual alliteration and/or drug use---

Submitted: June 20, 2010

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Submitted: June 20, 2010

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You have been printed. Born, if you will. You are the root of all evil, according to some. Actually, if you were to be tried in a courthouse, you would most likely be found innocent. Your job is one thing and one thing only: to value yourself. You may stay the same, but to foreigners, you become more or less valuable. You are unbiased and accept anybody. You wore a white wig in your past life. There are many like you, but you, as well as every other like you, is unique. The frame around your face is crafted with great detail, hidden artwork, and codes so that people can’t create a 100% identical one of you. You serve no one man, but a whole country, and to an extent, the whole world. You work for the American Federal Government, and to be more specific, the Department of Treasury. Your salary? You have none. You were born, that should be payment enough. And so should the fact that you will travel to different parts of the world. You will be exchanged for many different things. You will encounter wallets of all types. You have already encountered machinery as you came out of a huge printer not long ago. This means that you’re expected to be comfortable in entering tight spaces such as vending machines, cash registers, coin purses, regular purses, wallets, pant pockets, coat pockets, no pockets, under mattresses, in big vaults, small vaults. There are so many you can and will visit. If you are claustrophobic, I suggest you prepare yourself to face you fears. You will be released into the world through your first and only pre-assigned objective. The rest shall be destiny.

You are to be given to some four-year-old child in the next twenty four hours. It’s going to feel weird at first, but you’ll get used to it before you can say “Pennies”. The child will exchange you for a strawberry snow cone at a malt shop. The owner will keep you and many of the same value instead of exchanging you for one of a higher value such as your fellow certificate “Jackson”. The reason why he will keep you is because he will take you to a place where there are multicolored flashing lights and loud erotic music. There will be poles and women dancing on those poles. Have you ever heard of a “G-String”? No? Well, you’re about to find out. You’ll feel a bit tense at first, but trust me; you’ll have plenty of breathing space. You will have found your new temporary home. Apartment C-7 of Windmill St., Stockton, CA. You will constantly hear sirens weekly and constant arguments daily between the person who wore the “G-String” you were latched onto, Athena, and a man whose name is unknown to you. She will cry. You will listen. She will storm out of her apartment, get in her car, start up the car after four attempts, and drive off with you in her right front jean pocket. You will wait until she arrives at her destination. She will say to another stranger desperately, “I need some more stuff. This is all I have.”

She will leave with something else, and you will stay. Your new owner is tall, thick-bearded, and mal-tempered. He will stare at you for about seventeen seconds and then put you in his left coat pocket. You were part of his first sale, so he will keep you for a long time. He will become old. So old, that he loses quite frequently. He looks at you and scrambles his mind as to why he ever kept you in the first place. He noticed you have aged greatly. He will take you and many others like you that have aged as well to a bank. Bank of America to be exact. You will become a deposit into your owner’s checking account. The bank now has control over you. You see yourself on a reflective desk once. You notice many things you hadn’t noticed before. You have a pyramid with an eye, an eagle with a banner, and Latin words on your back. You also notice something else. This shocks you. You have torn a little bit towards your bottom left. Don’t worry about it too much. You will be sent to the U.S. Mint. There, you will be collected by huge amounts, put in large, cubic containers with wheels, and sent to some machine where you will see the end. You will be shredded, liquefied, and then see no more.

You are astonished and confused at the same time when you open your eyes and don’t see just blackness. You were once a One Dollar Bill of Series 1986 and had the code “B 49070894 B”. Now you are a new Twenty Dollar Bill of series 2007 and have the code “IL 11799634 C”. You are made up of cotton and other premium fibers, so you must be recycled. I cannot say farewell to you, oh Small Green Certificate, for you are reborn. You are legal tender, for all debts, public or private. You are truly special, Federal Reserve Note. You can solve almost anything if used to barter with. You are United States Currency.


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