I reluctantly petted a pegasus mane. I did not want to do the Aphrodite cabin's dirtywork, but it was either being their slave or getting beat up by the Ares cabin. Guess which one I chose!
I held the rusty metal bucket and admired the pegasus' wings through my messy, overgrown bangs.okay, Iadmit--horses of all type hate me. They always kick me in the stomach or break my leg or something.But today, I had no intentions of getting bbullied by the Ares cabin today. I new they were going to anyway, but not physically. Usually they'd call me an ugly mess, then start wondering how on earth I was a child of thea goddess.
I looked at the stinking brown blobs on the hay, wrinkling my nose. I squatted down, plastic shovel the Aphrodite kids gave me (that probably came from the dollar store) in hand, and started scooping the poop into the bucket. My hypothesis about the shovel coming from the dollar store was confirmed when it snapped in two under the weight of the horse pie.
Fabulous. What was I supposed to so now?
Subject: Horses must hate me or something... 
Sat Jan 12, 2013 11:36 pm
