God damn, I was in low earth orbit when I wrote this one back in September.

>be loserfaggot anon
>Currently strutting towards sugarcube corner, you whistle the melody from Gerry Rafferty's "Baker Street" and play along on your air saxophone with reckless abandon
>Walk around everywhere in a three piece suit and wear a green headsock with a question mark on the face because you're fucking retarded 
>No, not autistic
>Well, hang on, if we're honest, you're probably on the spectrum
>Whatever the case, you've got no sense of self-awareness, or tact, or-
>Oh shit son, that guitar solo at the end though!
>Dropping to a knee, you transition from air sax to air guitar and shred those last few bars before switching back to the sax for the outro.
"BA BAP! BA DA BADABAA! BA BAP! BA DA WAAHHHHH-WAWAAA-"
>The visual I have of Anon trying to vocalize the sax melody from this song, forsaking his air sax in favor of flailing his arms like Gary from Team America- you know that part in Gary's first mission where he ends up in the back of the jeep-
>"It looks like he's saying, 'Kiss me, kiss me'."
>"Smart-ass motherfucker!"
>You know, that part
>-scaring off any ponies within a ten meter radius of him is a lot funnier in my mind than what I'm typing. You're just gonna have to trust me on this one.
>The song ends, and you open your eyes to see a ring of ponies surrounding you, none of them sure of what to make of the spectacle that they'd just witnessed. 
>Muscle memory delivers a perfect draw of finger pistols from invisible holsters, and you shoot a quick lil one-two pew-pew at Bon Bon, who just scoffs and trots away, prompting the crowd to follow suit.
>Within seconds, the crowd's dispersed, save for one pony
>Ackshually, Zecora isn't a pony- she's a zebra
>Whatever. 
>She looks at you, her head tilted to the side, baby-blue eyes peering straight into your soul. 
"Didja like that? Baker Street is probably the best-known song off of Rafferty's 'City to City' album, but 'Right Down the Line' is actually my favorite track from it."
>Zecora chuckles to herself and trots off, cart in tow, but not before giving you a smile
>it's a nice feeling- to be smiled at.
>most mares don't smile at you
>pinkie doesn't count- she smiles at everyone
"That feeling when no pony gf to cuddle with at night." you sigh as you rise and dust off your trousers.
>Completely unrelated- The B-side of Supertramp's "Breakfast in America" album is underrated as hell
>inb4 "b-b-but, muh 'Take the Long Way Home!'"
>"Just Another Nervous Wreck" is the patrician choice
>You visit with Pinkie Pie- one of the few ponies in town that you get along with pretty well- for a while
>She tells you of her special project, donuts made specifically to help fill out Princess Luna's "mosquito bite flanks".
>You damn near choked on your scone at that, but Pinkie assured you it was a super-serious commission from Princess Celestia herself.
>Perhaps alicorns store magic in their ass?
>The bigger the booty, the more heat they're packing?
>Provisional headcanon: acquired
>Anyway, it turned out that all the weight Luna gained from Pinkie's first batch of donuts went straight to her teats
>tfw no moon milkies to bury your face in every night
>Seeing as her mission was not yet accomplished, Pinkie bids you farewell and closes up the shop behind you.
>Walk home alone, wondering how fat Luna's ass would have to be for you to be able to bounce a quarter off it
>Man, that's going in the Spank Bank for later
>Fast forward a few weeks
>everything's pretty much the same
>Everypony avoids you except Pinkie and Zecora
>You've run into the latter in town more often lately
>Now that you think about it, Zecora's actually very pretty
>You decide to ask her out, since you've struck out with all the single mares in town
>Normally, you'd be too much of a bitch to up and walk into the everfree unaccompanied, but you're backed up; ballsy in more ways than one
>So off to the Everfree you go, whistling the chorus from Rebel Yell.
>How should you woo this foreign beauty?
>Several cheesy ideas float through your mind before you settle on what should've been the obvious choice
>You'll speak her language
>Now armed with a plan, you power walk along the trail to Zecora's hut
>knock knock knock
>The door swings open after a few seconds
>Zecora's initial surprise gives way to a welcoming smile
>"Mister Anon, I thought I'd heard you- nopony has a gait quite like you do."
>Your knees are weak, palms spaghetti, the works
"Uh, hi... Z-Zecora..."
>Her smile fades.
>She rears up on her hind legs and touches a hoof to your clammy forehead
"Mister Anon, are you not feeling well? Did you come in search of a healing spell?
>C'mon Anon... you can do this.
>Be confident
"Actually Zecora, I am feeling a little under the weather."
>"Do not hesitate, Anon... talk to me, speak! Which condition afflicts you, what's the treatment you seek?"
>Now's your chance, Anon- speak her language
"I've got this strange fever, the old jungle type. The only known cure's an ass covered in stripes. Zecora, I need you, DID nofap for weeks... I want to plow into your DUMP. TRUCK. CHEEKS."
>The rest, as they say, is history.
>Seven years and a platoon's worth of ziglets later, you're at your wit's end, wondering how the fuck you're gonna support yet another foal.
>How were you supposed to know that your rhyming would woo the figurative pants off Zecora that easily?
>It's not like you knew Zecora was even more starved for companionship than you.
>Better yet, who knew you could even knock up a little talking zebra?
>Certainly not you.
>One of your little savages whines in rhyme that his sister shoved his snout in poison joke.
>Five others tell you they're hungry.
>Something,something... Marital Problems

The End