Once upon a time, when I was in the 6th grade, I went through a unicorn phase. I hearted them. I wanted anything that had a unicorn on them. Luckily for me, there was also a fad going around with these little duffle bag looking purses, which also had a matching tiny duffle bag coin purse...and they had unicorns on them. They were like THE thing to have. If you didn't have a unicorn purse... you were a loser. And no one, I repeat, no one wants to be a loser. Least of all, or rather...especially me.
So I begged, borrowed, and bartered my way to a maroon unicorn purse and I went to the K&B, a local drug store, and bought a silver metalic marker and I emblazoned my name upon said unicorn purse in a beautiful script with a squiggly flourish beneath so that no one would even try to take my unicorn purse and pass it off as their own.
Shortly afterwards, I was riding the bus to school, cradling my unicorn purse in my lap, basking in the glow of its glory, minding my own business when an older girl (who also lived next door to me and was somewhat of a bully, especially to me and mine because her dad was a small angry man who hated our family for some reason) walked by and noticed my purse. More to the point, she noticed the carefully scripted autograph on my bag. Only, because it was sorta dark in the bus, and because she was partially illiterate and because she hated me, instead of seeing my name in beautiful script with a pretty flourish beneath, she saw the name of the boy she was currently crushing on and had, as recently as the previous weekend, made out with (so she said). His name was "Tiger".
In her illiteracy, hatred and impaired vision due to darkness, she charged at me and began hurling accusations and questions and insults. Nervously, I tried to explain what was really written on my bag, and internally questioned whether I really did like Tiger and through some wonder of subliminal, psychological effort actually meant to write "Tiger" on my bag. Despite my internal questioning, the bully soon believed my 'story' and left me be.
All that to say, up until about two years ago, any time my mom would see something with a unicorn on it, she'd buy it for me, even though my unicorn phase ended shortly after the Tiger incident. The last unicorn related purchase was a small cedar box with a well-shellacked top featuring a unicorn, of course, being tamed by a wizard. Classy.
p.s. tiger, his wife and children, now go to church with me. and the bully...she lives in a trailer with a few kids and one of her baby-daddys.