Hello. Yes, it’s me. One Million Dollars. Not metaphorically. Not spiritually. Literally printed right on my shiny golden face. 💰
I know what you’re thinking. “You look expensive.” Thank you. I try. I don’t buy coffee, I don’t invest, and I never worry about inflation. I just sit here being absurdly wealthy and slightly flexible, which is a good combo if you ask me.
I was born to live between pages. Heavy novels. Sacred journals. Instruction manuals nobody actually reads. Wherever you need motivation, I slide right in and whisper, “You could be rich… or at least feel rich for a second.” 📖
I’m embossed. Not emotionally, but physically. You can feel the raised details, the fine lines, the ornamental drama. Lady Liberty stands tall on me, like she’s guarding your place in chapter seven. Very patriotic. Very serious. Slightly ridiculous. That’s the balance.
I’m not paper. Paper tears. Paper panics. I’m PET plastic, which means I bend without drama and hold my shape like a professional. Six inches long, 2.5 inches wide, perfectly sized to pretend I’m powerful without being inconvenient. 💪
People stare at me. They ask questions. “Is it real?” they say. I don’t answer. I let the mystery breathe. I am not real money, but I am real confidence. That’s arguably better. You can’t spill coffee on confidence.
Give me as a gift and watch the reaction. It starts with confusion, then laughter, then a quiet moment of respect. I do that to people. I leave impressions. Sometimes fingerprints too, because gold foil has opinions.
So go ahead. Bookmark your story with a million bucks. I’ll hold your page. I’ll hold your dreams. I will not pay your bills, but I will absolutely judge the font you’re reading. 😉
