DRINK 1: So, this again?
"Hey AAAAAAASSSSHOOOOOOOOLES! We're back!"
>"Don't call Sam that!" Best Pony hisses.
>Pffff.
>Meh.
>Not worth arguing.
>You’re in kicking distance and she may or may not still have enough energy to sweep the leg.
>Not risking it.
>You know you don’t have enough energy to stand back up.
"Fine, fine. What about Fluttershy?"
>"Yeah, that's okay."
"CORRECTION: HAAAAAAAY ASSHOLE! AND SAM! WE'RE BACK!"
>"Welcome home!" a tiny voice squeaks.
>Yep.
>You're home.
>Home is where you don't have to wear pants.
>Where you *didn't* have to wear pants.
>Now with three ladies around, basically *all* the time, pants don't seem quite so optional.
>Well, home is where you can drink without getting arrested for public intoxication.
>That's still true.
>And home is where other people watch your goddamn anime while you're at work.
>Godfuckit.
>Lazy-ass freeloader ponies.
>Shouting used up the last amount of doing-shit you had left.
>Probably should have saved those final dregs of your energy for... fuck it.
>Tired.
>So tired.
>You barely make it to the sofa.
>Have to crawl over the arm.
>Face first.
>Uphill.
>Both ways.
>In the snow.
>Without using any limbs.
>It's hard.
>Less hard than zombshuffling around to the front.
"Berry?”
>Best Pony grunts.
“Beer me."
>"Fuck you."
>So that's a no.
>Should have seen that coming.
"Sam?"
>"Uh-huh," the little filly mumbles. "After this episode."
>"Sam?"
>"I'll get one for you, too."
>"'kay. Thanks."
>Something way too heavy and way too hot falls across your back.
>WELL IT'S JUST GOING TO FUCKING STAY THERE.
>At least until you both get something cold to drink.
>WHICH APPARENTLY WILL TAKE FORFUCKINGEV-
>Oh. Credits.
>Pause.
>Little pony scampering away.
>Adorable little pony scampering back.
>The adorable bit is because she's got two beers.
>It’s funny watching her try to run with those bottles in her mouth.
>Well then.
>Anyway.
>That was quick.
>As Flootertooter would say: 'yay'.
>Sam looks at you, head turning one way, then another.
>Damn kids and their surplus of energy and excitement and sparkly, shiny eyes.
>"So, uh, why are you back so early?"
>You can't answer that until you've had something to drink.
>Then again, she couldn't ask until you'd taken the bottles out of her mouth, soooo...
>Chug.
>Okay.
>Ready.
>Wait.
>No.
>You can't tell a filly to go fuck herself.
>Not unless you want to see if Berry has the strength left to find a magazine, and FUUUUUCK THAAAAT.
>You’re not getting your head caved in because of this shit.
"Sam, we're home two hours late."
>YEP.
>DEEEPLOOOMATIC AS FUCK.
>"It's still earlier than it’s been every other day,” the filly responds with another confused little tilt of her head, “sooooo… I'm surprised you're home."
"YEAH. WELL. I'M SURPRISED YOU'RE HERE AT ALL."
>"Berry..." tinypone whines "... he's making that voice again."
"I AM MAKING NO VOICE!"
>POKE.
"OKAY, MAYBE -"
>POKE.
"FUCK YOU, IT'S DESERVED!"
>Poke.
"Okay, okay. Fine. But I'm still surprised Sammy is here."
>Poke.
"Because she hasn't run away in like three weeks! That's why!"
>Harderpoke.
“Remember back around New Years and how she never even stayed a full night!?”
>Thoughtfulpoke.
“It’s only been a few months since then, Berry, but she’s been sleeping in your bed for the past three weeks straight!”
>Forcefulpoke.
"Look, it’s a miracle she hasn’t left yet, okay!?"
>Poke.
"She's a free pony, Berry! I can't stop her!"
>Softpoke.
"Yes, I know -
>"Shup n' gemme chips."
"Oh. Is that why you were poking me?"
>"Got en'gy t'bitch, got en'gy t'get chips."
"Valid point, but let me counter with -"
>You try to stand, but NOPE.
"- WITH THE FUCKING FATASS PONY FLOPPED ON MY BACK!"
>"So? G'up."
"I CAN'T STAND!"
>"D'it anyway."
"CAN'T!"
>"I believe in you, Anon!" NO ONE FUCKING IMPORTANT yells from the kitchen. "KICK THE IMPOSSIBLE TO THE CURB TO -"
"I SWEAR TO FUCKING, YOU ARE BANNED FROM ANIME."
>Yeah.
>Fuck yeah.
>That shuts Fluttershit the fuck up.
>"Fine," Berry mumbles like a disgruntled employee (which she is). "I'll get. Hold m'beer."
>You can do that.
>FOR NEFARIOUS DRINK-STEALING REASONS.
>You hold out your hand.
>She doesn't put anything in your hand.
>You wiggle your fingers.
>She still doesn't put anything in your hand.
>Um.
>Okay.
>What the fuck.
>Doesn't she know how this works?
>She says "hold my beer."
>You hold her beer.
>She does something stupid.
>You upload the video on the internet.
>BUT SHE'S FUCKING UP STEP TWO.
>THERE'S NO BEER IN YOUR HAND.
>Just your own, but that hardly counts.
>"'kay, b'back."
>AND NOW THERE'S A FUCKING COLD, WET, *SOMETHING* ON YOUR HEAD!
>IF THAT'S PONY SLOBBER, THEN -
>Oh.
>Nope.
>Apparently, you're a coaster now.
>You relax and enjoy your newfound purpose in life.
>Minutes pass.
>Hours.
>Days.
>You're not sure exactly how long.
>(It's possible you doze off at some point).
>(Probable, even.)
>(Very likely, because last thing you remember, the TV was still paused and then SUDDENLY OUT OF NOWHERE the opening song comes to an end.)
>(Waaaaaaaait, this isn’t anime!)
>(This is *western* animation!)
>(You… probably should have guessed that when Fluttershy wasn’t rubbing her crotch on the TV.)
>(Then again, this poses problems.)
>First off –
“Wait, wait, what. Since when has the opening sequence been like this?”
> “It’s just for the miniseries.”
“Oh. Right. Uh. Problem. Should you be watching this? FLUTTERSHY, SHOULD SHE BE WATCHING THIS!?”
>“Yes!” Buttersquash screams back from the kitchen. “Why not!?”
“BECAUSE IT HAS A PRINCESS KILLING THE BADDIES! IT SETS A BAD PRECIDENT!”
>“So!?”
“BECAUSE YOU PONIES HAVE PRINCESSES AND I TECHNICALLY OWN SLAVES AND AM THUS BY DEFINITION A BADDIE!”
>The pictures on the screen freeze and a little filly face pops up next to yours, practically nose to nose.
“You shouldn’t be -”
>”I am *trying* to watch this,” Sam hisses. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll fucking kill you. No princesses.”
“BERRY! FLUTTERSHY! SHE’S THREATENING ME AGAIN!”
>”Just shake her, Anon!”
>”Stop being a bad influence on innocent little fillies!”
>That sounds like effort.
>Both of them.
>Both options.
>Effort.
>And oh, damn, you’re fresh out.
>You’re all out of effort.
>Particularly the not being a bad influence thing.
“FUCK YOU, CLUTTERSLIT! I DON’T HAVE TO DO WHAT YOU SAY! YOU’RE NOT MY REAL…”
>Oh, hey. She’s here. Pushing Sam away.
>Now you feel bad for yelling.
“… uh… mom. Not my real mom.”
>Your throat hurts.
>”No,” the butterpone sighs, “but you *are* my owner.”
>Her turn to shove her head in your face.
>”Pets?"
“Fuck no, you yelled at me.”
>”Butbutbut I rescued you from a vicious, murderous filly.”
>Fiiiiiiine.
>She gets pets.
>She squirms and purrs.
>Yay.
>This is getting old.
>Except it’s pretty cute.
>Still.
>It’s been about eight months or so since she basically started living here.
>Three since you bought her.
>You really kinda thought that’d turn into some whole big thing. Like, HUGE. Sagas would have been written about it. Possibly epics. At the very least novel, maybe, possibly just one, probably two.
>Something beyond “oh hay, my owners are going to sell me because they’re having a baby and need the room, plz buy.”
>And you going “Uh, payment plan?” And them going “Sure, whatever.”
>It all just kinda happened in the background.
>Honestly not even worth telling folks about, since she basically already camped out here every night.
>Everyone at work had kinda assumed you owned her anyway.
>A few thought – hell, probably everyone still thinks – that you’re building up your own little pony harem.
>Ew.
>No.
>Good thing those fags at work don’t know about Sam, but still, fuck no.
>They don't even have tits.
>Or any goddamn chips, apparently.
“BEEH-EEEH-EEEEEHREEEEEEEEE!”
>”Shup. Chips.”
>Ooh, Berry.
>Ooooh, bowl.
>Oooooooooh, chips.
>And a new beer.
>And your career as a coaster is apparently shortlived.
>Aaaaaaaand your overly hot ponyskin blanket is back (complete with real, live pony).
>”Are you faggots done?” Sammy barks, earning her a swat from one mare and an angry hiss from the other.
>”Okay, okay!” the little filly cries, throwing up her forehooves in surrender. “Can I start this again or are you going to keep talking?”
“We’ll be quiet.”
>Throat hurts too much to talk more.
>Ooooh, chips.
>This is the life.
>Well, *a* life.

DRINK 2: What’s that smell?
“Hey.”
>The pony in your bed groans.
“Hey, Berry?”
>”What?” she mumbles, pulling the blanket up over her head.
>But not enough to cover her ears.
>So either she’s listening to you, ooooooooor it’s just too hard for her to raise her little pony legs up that high.
>Either way, she’s stuck listening to you.
>Unless she leaves.
>It’s not like you *dragged* her here.
>You kind of miss having your own bed.
>What’s wrong with her own bedroom?
>You didn’t make her give it up for some scrawny hobo filly with mudbutt and sass. That was all *her* idea.
>And she’s always welcome to get the fuck out.
>Sooooooooooooo…
“Suicidal urges before breakfast.”
>Yep!
“How many do you think is normal?”
>You’ve been pondering this.
>”Hungover?” she asks.
>See?
>That’s what you love about your little pony slave.
>She takes your shit in stride.
>Doesn’t freak out, just goes along with it.
>Assuming she’s not the one *starting* it.
“No.”
>”Sober?”
“I said before breakfast, didn’t I?”
>Come to think of it, when *was* the last time you had yourself a nice bowl of Jackie O’s?
>Have you been skipping breakfast EVERY FUCKING DAY since you accidentally came home with this pony?
>Are you out of Jack Daniel’s? Or Cheerios?
>HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN OUT!?
>Or have you always done this?
>Have you ever had breakfast?
>Is breakfast even a real thing?
>You’re not sure it’s a real thing.
>MEANWHILE, while you’re trying to figure out the Riddle of Breakfast, your pony asks another question.
>”Workday?”
“Nope.”
>You’re off today!
>The blanket rises and falls in what may or may not have been Berry shrugging.
>”Three to four, I think?”
“Cool.”
>That’s not as bad as you thought.
“I love being above average.”
>Berry doesn’t say anything.
>Neither do you.
>The walls stay pretty quiet, too.
>But you can hear anime – probably anime? – from the living room.
>Goddamn Fluttershit.
>This is your first day off in… you aren’t paid to count that high.
>And she has to go and play cartoons at high volume, even though she’s reading the goddamn text off the screen anyfuckingway.
>Why not just leave it muted so you can sleep in?
>Not that she woke you up, but the point still fucking stands.
>You want to beat her shit in.
>Berry obviously thinks the same.
>First off, because she’s your pony and if she doesn’t agree with you, SHE GETS THE WHIP!
>But you’ll have to find out where to buy a whip, sooooooooo…
>You’ll ask her to Google that later.
>SECONDLY, she ducks her head down until it’s fully under the blanket. Ears and all.
>Blocking out the sound with the heavy, fuzzy blanket.
>Funny, you’d thought that blanket was pretty nifty.
>After all, you’d bought it from the place you work, AND FUCK THE PLACE YOU WORK.
>HELP THEM MAKES SALES ON ANY GIVEN DAY?
>FUCK NO.
>But this blanket was nice.
>Heavy. Relatively warm. Fuzzy and soft as HELL.
>You’d made an exception of it.
>Bought it anyway.
>And yet it’s not as fuzzy and soft as the little pony face that pushes against your arm until you kinda run out of place for arm and so lift it so she can slide under it.
>You wonder – for a moment, though you also realize it’s a sick, sick thought – if you can get pony skin blankets somewhere.
>They’d be so soft.
>Totally worth murder.
>Maybe the weeaboo.
>No one would miss her.
>”So,” your little drunkard mumbles into your chest, “would you ever actually do it?”
“Beat Flutters?”
>”Ye-no, what?”
“Or do you mean skin her for a blanket? Probably not, because she’s not really big enough and it’s a lot of work. Probably. I mean, I don’t really know how to go about it and all, but… you wanna Google that for me later?”
>A sharp hoof hits your abdomen.
“Okay, I get it. I’ll look it up on my own.”
>It strikes again.
>POKE.
>GODDAMMIT.
>”I meant kill yourself, you idiot.”
“Oh. I kinda thought the conversation had moved on from that.”
>”Doesn’t matter,” she responds. “I’m asking anyway.”
“Oh, okay.”
>This is not how you expected your morning to go.
>Is Berry feeling suicidal?
>Shit.
>Does your insurance cover pony antidepressants?
>Shit.
>Do they even make those?
>What would they even be, anyway?
>Maybe you’re overthinking this.
>Maybe she just needs chocolate.
>That might help.
>POKE.
>Oh, right.
>Question.
>You could lie to her.
>Give her hope, but that would be cruel.
“Nah.”
>Okay, she probably deserves a better answer than that.
>You’re close, after all. Been together for over a year.
>Almost makes you wonder why she would even ask you such a silly thing.
“Probably not.”
>It’s like she doesn’t even know you!
“It’s like… something I *should* do. Same as, you know, doing the laundry –“
>You’ve had to wear the same pants three days in a row.
“ – putting up the Christmas lights –“
>Should have been done *weeks* ago.
“- or finding a real job.”
>Yeah. No.
>”But you don’t do any of those things.”
“Exactly.”
>You pat your pony’s shoulder and sigh.
>Yep.
>You’re a failure.
>The blanket feels plenty warm to you, but Berry must be cold as fuck because she snuggles up against you and puts her arms – wait, no, *legs* - around you.
>She stays that way, and you can’t quite muster up the energy to push her away or get out of bed yourself.
>It’s been too long since you’ve had a day off.
>You’re *tired*. Too tired to get up and do the laundry or finally put up those lights or anything.
>Normally Berry would make breakfast.
>She doesn’t seem up to it, though.
>That’s okay.
>She’s been working the same hours as you.
>So you just let her stay where she is.
>One of you will get up and do something once hunger kicks in.
>Or the need to shit.
>*Hopefully* one of you will get up when that particular need arises.
>Not for a while, though, or if it hits her she holds it in well.
>Have you ever been too exhausted to take a shit?
>Yeah, you’ve been there.
>You *know* you’ve been there.
>This schedule is killing you.
>You go back to sleep.
>So… it’s somewhere around noon when you’re forced to get up.
>To *really* get up, and not just pretend you’re awake.
>Someone is knocking on your bedroom door.
“Aaaaaaaaaaand there’s urge number seven.”
>Berry looks up at you from under the blanket, little more than her snout and eyes poking out from it, and makes the uckiest uck face you’ve ever seen her make.
“Yeah, I know. I should have gone in to work today.”
>There’s another knock, followed by the adorable sound of little filly hooves shuffling.
“You know they asked us to, right?”
>BECAUSE PROPER STAFFING IS HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARD.
>”We should have,” Best Pony sighs.
“At least then we’d be doing something productive.”
>She raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay, at least we’d be getting paid to be miserable.”
>She nods slightly.
>”Berry…?” little filly voice whines from beyond your last line of defense. “Anon…? I made breakfast for you, but I can’t reach the doorknob!”
“Do you think she’ll remember she can use magic?”
>”Why the fuck would anything nice ever happen?”
>She has a point.
>You fucking hate it when she has a point.
>Almost as much as you hate seeing that faint green glow around the doorknob.
>You never should have told her about magic and doorknobs.
>You only have yourself to blame.
>And Sam, because she’s the one using it.
>Mostly her for remembering it.
>Goddamn little fillies and their lack of brain trauma.
>You could fix that.
>”I’m coming in!”
>You pull the covers up, because, you know, THAT WILL TOTALLY HELP, leaving you and your pony about face to face in the dark.
“Can I… I don’t know… refuse?”
>ACCUSATORY POKE.
>”Don’t you dare hurt her feelings.”
“You don’t want to eat it either!”
>”Maybe she got better?”
“Why the fuck would anything nice ever happen?”
>POKEKICK
>UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE TO SENSATIVE BITS.
>She hates it when you have a point.
>SO.
>YEAH.
>YOU HAD A FUCKING POINT.
>ANDTHATFUCKINGPOINTIS:
>The door opens.
>Saimy Hammy remembered she has magic.
>Goddamn pointy headed magical space bastard fucks!
>You’re going to have to eat breakfast or face a slave uprising IN YOUR VERY OWN BED.
>”Anon! Anon!” an adorably high-pitched and deceptively kind voice squeaks. “I made you and Berry breakfast in bed!”
“I could tell.”
>”Then why didn’t you open the door for me?” she audibly pouts like a fucking child with a – oh, right, she *is* a child.
>Your bed tilts – not much, but it’s not a very big bed and it’s old. The springs are worn out.
>The weight of a little filly trying to climb onto it from Berry’s side is more than noticeable.
>You roll the fuck over.
>Maybe if you can’t see it, it can’t see you.
>That’s how T-rexes work, so ponies too, right?
>Yeah.
>Basically.
>You think.
>”Anon…”
>POKE.
”Goddammit, Berry! I swear to whatever pointy-headed god you worship, I *will* roll over and slap your shit -”
>POKE.
>You spin like in your fucking grave like your pure teenage granddaughter was suddenly teen pregnant by a centaur gangbang. *Black* ones, too, not that you’re racist or anything.
>The horse part could be black.
>Human part, too, you guess.
>You’re not racist.
>”Dammit, I said –“
>POKE.
>She’s grinning.
>So’s Sam.
>Fucking shit.
>They got you.
>They got you good.
“Fine. Fuck it.”
>SUBTLE KICK TO THE THIGH.
>”Don’t swear in front of Sam,” No Longer Best Pony growls at you. At *you*! Her *owner*!
>You will not fucking stand for this fucking shit.
“Fine.”
>Nor will you take it lying down!
>You sit up -
>That’s an acceptable compromise.
>- and scooch back against your headboard - and make damn sure the blanket doesn’t fail to follow.
>There are things little fillies aren’t meant to see, and your sleepwear of choice from the waist down is one of those things.
>Sammy smiles so wide you almost forgive her for this.
>Damn.
>She really does love making you two breakfast.
>Such a huge difference from when she first came here and couldn’t even bear to stand the night.
>It’s just a shame she sucks so much at it.
>You look around your room and, aside from the extra pony, it seems pretty much exactly the same as normal.
>No breakfast.
>Soo…
>Did she cock it up so badly it ceased to exist?
>That’s a possibility.
>You don’t allow yourself to hope, though.
>That way lies only disappointment and despair, regardless of what certain pink magical girls say.
>She was wrong, anyway, so…
>Yeah, she totally deserved that last movie.
“Well? Where is it?”
>POKE.
“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? It’s a perfectly reasonable question!”
>Berry frowns.
>You frown back.
>She frowns harder.
>You put on the face you reserve for dealing with customers.
>She…
>Submits!
>Rolling her eyes at you is a sign of surrender!
>And little Sam, the whole fucking time, keeps twisting her head back and forth.
>Well, mostly looking up and down really, because you’re sitting up and Berry is still lying down and Sam is kind of standing on top of her, right on her shoulder, putting the filly almost at eye level with you.
>”Um…” she hums, “… oh!”
“What?”
>”I forgot to bring it!” she gasps gleefully. GLEEFULLY! How the fuck she manages that, you’ll never fucking know. “I’ll be right back!”
“What!? No –“
>She’s already bolted off the bed and is dashing down the hall.
“… but…”
>You don’t *want* breakfast.
>Not from *her*.
>You could get up and lock the door.
>Keep the overly cheerful maniac at bay.
>But…
>That seems like work.
>Work is things that happen on days that *aren’t* your day off.
>This is your day off.
>And your bed is so warm.
>Ponysnuggles do that.
>”Thanks for not locking the door, Anon,” Berry murmurs, snuggling closer.
>She’s got her forelegs locked around your thigh!
>Fuckity fuck!
“Well, not like I can get up anyway now, is it!?”
>”Nope.”
“Fucker.”
>”Faggot.”
>Shit.
>All sitting up did was give you a clear view of death as it comes for you.
>Sammy is trotting back, one plate balanced on her rump – and how the fuck does she do that? Berry can’t even keep *herself* balanced!
>Oh, and the other plate is in her mouth.
>You think she’s humming.
>At least, there’s these little musical-type noises coming out of her.
>Pony farts?
>Maybe.
>But anyway, they’re in tune with her trotting.
>So’s the bouncing of the so-called toast and… whatever *that* is she probably - *hopefully* - made with… eggs(?) bouncing along with every step she takes.
>Jesus shitting bricks on a bike made of cunts.
>Toast is not supposed to *bounce*.
>There’s a moment where she disappears from sight and you let yourself believe that maybe - *maybe* - she slipped and fell and died at the very foot of your bed.
>That’s a horrible thing to hope for.
>You don’t even know what to do with dead pony.
>Does it go in… the… uh… compost bin?
>Regular trash bin?
>Shit, you don’t fucking know.
>You’ll ask Berry to look that up on your computer later.
>”Ahon? Halp.”
>Yes.
>She’s begging for help.
>She’s dying.
>*YES*.
>”Ah cahnt reh ha –“
>Oh shit.
>You know a magical spell when you hear one.
>”Wah, ahmo –“
>If NOW WORST PONY wasn’t holding on to you, you’d be gone already.
>Out.
>The.
>Fucking.
>Window!
>Maybe that’s why she’s holding on to you so tightly.
>Maybe this is the slave uprising you always knew would come.
>She’s sacrificing her life to keep you pinned in place for whatever is about to happen.
>Meteors from the sky?
>Daemons from the depths of hell itself?
>*Explosion*?
>OR –
>A plate of ‘breakfast’ deposited at the foot of your bed by a little brown filly mouth.
>HA!
>THIS IS A PITIFUL DOOM!
>[MANY DWARVES LAUGH IN MOHAWK]
“Forgot you had magic again?”
>What follows is too high pitched and squeaky to *really* be called swearing, but there *is* a lot of it.
>And then the second plate floats up in a haze of green and gently sets itself atop your blankets.
>[DWARVEN LAUGHTER CEASES]
“That wasn’t what I meant.”
>Where’s a goddamn meteor when you need one…?
>Not fucking HERE, that’s where.
>Little filly hooves scrabble against the end of your bed.
>There’s not much noise, what with you not having one of those fancy-ass wooden/metal/chipboard –
>(oh who the fuck is kidding themselves, they’re ALL fucking chipboard unless it’s some fancy fuck buying it from a real furniture store)
>(you’ve assembled enough furniture displays to know)
>(it’s AAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL FUCKING CHIPBOARD)
> – frame thingies with a headboard and footboard (?) or whatever, but Sam *is* doing remarkably well at pulling on the blankets.
>Pulling them *down*, actually.
>Like a kitten with a roll of toilet paper, or a filly with a bed that’s too tall for her to really climb up on.
>That *is* what she’s doing, right?
“Sam, are you trying to climb onto the bed?”
>”Mhm!”
>Yep, that’s what she’s doing, alright.
>Berry must have helped her earlier.
>Traitor.
>Dumbass filly is going to drag those plates right back down onto her own head.
>And you’re going to laugh.
>AND you won’t feel bad about –
>Berry grabbing the top of the sheet in her mouth.
>Well shit.
>Little filly still can’t quite get traction, though.
>Holyfuckingshit, she’s going to tear Berry’s fucking teeth out and that’s your job as her master, so –
“Fine, come around to my side and I’ll help you up.”
>You aren’t going to help her up.
>”Oh,” little filly giggles.
>Poor fool!
>She believes you!
>HaHA!
>AND THEN.
>GLOWING FILLY BUTT.
>JUST
>FUCKING GLOWING GREEN FILLY BUTT, FOLLOWED BY NON-GLOWING NORMAL-COLORED REST-OF-FILLY.
>LIKE THE HAND OF SOME UNNATURAL, IMAGINARY, FILLYFONDLING GOD HAS REACHED DOWN, GRABBED HER BY HER SOFT FILLY ASS, AND LIFTED.
>THERE’S GIGGLING.
>You don’t think she’s doing this whole self-levitating thing right.
>It’s all very undignified looking.
>Honestly.
>You’re embarrassed for her.
>”Anon,” Barely Acceptable Pony sighs into your ribs, because that’s where her head is now, all nuzzled up and comfortable (probably for her, too), “I think we should find somepony to teach Sam how to use her magic properly.”
“Shit, I guess. But priorities. Let’s find her someone to teach her how to cook, first. Also, how to read.”
>”I can read!” Miss Glowbutt whines as she sets herself down in what must be THE most awkward pony landing this side of muzzle-first, right in the dirt.
“Not very fu –“
>PREEMPTIVE POKE
“-UUUUUNTIMES well, can you?”
>MICROWAVED BURRITOS
>NOT. HARD.
>Unless you’re a filly who thinks preheating the microwave to 350 is a good idea.
>HOW THE FUCK DID THAT EVEN.
>HOW.
>You have no more times for questions.
>There’s a cute, little filly crawling up your legs with a plate in her mouth.
>It would be more adorable if you could tell exactly what was on that plate.
>Toast – that’s a given. For a rather generous definition of toast.
>Eggs. Probably chicken. Maybe pegasus.
>Do pegaponies lay eggs?
>You should look that up. Maybe Flutterbutter can be useful for something.
>As for what was done with them…
>They didn’t start off scrambled.
>No, there are clear signs of *something* being done to them.
>Solid chunks that make you suspect she hard boiled the eggs.
>Runny bits that hint towards sunny side up.
>Scrambled fucking mess everyfuckingwhere that writes out clear as day that whatever she was trying to make ended only in failure and suffering.
>And then…
>Oh!
>Bacon!
>”Heah! Wry!”
“Okay!”
>There’s bacon!
>Glorious bacon!
>You take the plate from her mouth.
>There’s a little bit of ponyslobber on the edge, but credit where credit is due: it’s not near any of the food, technical or otherwise.
>Spiffy!
>There’s a fork!
>Forky bits tucked right under the eggs!
>Good.
>SOMEPONIES can’t quite get the hang of forks and that you need them.
>You stare angrily.
>Berry shrugs.
>Well.
>Fair enough.
>You were only silently tantruming by proxy.
>It’s Otakushy, not her, that tries to serve everyfuckingthing with chopsticks.
>You don’t even OWN any fucking chopsticks!
>Where does she keep finding those!?
>Still.
>You stare.
>Guilt by association and all that.
>She who allows the sinner to exist shares its crime of existence.
>ALSO.
>Berry sits up.
>You scream internally at the sudden lack of pony cuddles and stare harder.
>Traitor Pone wobbles slightly, moans silently.
>She’s tireder than she’s trying to pretend that she’s not.
>Well.
>Okay.
>It was a late night.
>Or… not really?
>Meh. It’s a day off, and that means whatever god or gods may exist *want* you to sleep in until noon, and it’s barely even… not noon yet.
>That makes all this either heresy or iconoclasm.
>There’s a difference, but you can’t quite remember exactly what it is.
>Just that people – and ponies – have probably been stoned to death for less.
>You consider getting the ball rolling by chucking your plate at Sam as she trots back down your legs to retrieve the second plate, but then you might not get ponycuddles again.
>SO.
>You take a hint from that old guy from that one show.
>You wait.
>Let the little troublemaker bring Berry her plate.
>Once she’s gotten a good look at it, you’re sure she’ll agree with you.
>Berry takes the plate Sam brings her in her forehooves and – and –
>No fork.
>SEE?
>Berry pokes at the mess with her muzzle.
>FUCKING SEE!?
>Sammich’s a smart little filly!
>She knows to bring you a fork!
>She knows not to bring one for Berry!
>Smart!
>She could learn to make edible food if she really wanted to.
>THEREFORE.
>CLEARLY.
>She doesn’t want to.
>So she’s trying to murder you.
>This must be why her owners threw her out into the street.
>Too cute to murder, too evil to let her stay.
>Like a goddamn sex-free underage succubus.
>With the occasional glowing ass now, apparently.
>Berry pokes at the so-called ‘food’ again, digging the tip of her nose into what may or may not be eggs.
>AND THEN –
>- bites her plate.
“Uh…”
>”This is hard,” she mumbles.
“Yeah. That’s your goddamn plate.”
>Samblam giggles and squiggles down into the blankety valley between your legs and Berry’s and… waits.
>She’s enjoying watching your suffering.
>Adorable little bitch.
>”Uh… yeah… yeah,” Berry chuckles with a shake of her head.
>Then she bites at the black rectangle that technically might be something considered a distant relative of toast.
>(And a closer relative of roofing tiles.)
>Berry sighs and tries to open her eyes.
>It’s not every effective.
>”Plate again?”
“No… that was your toast.”
>”That wasn’t toast.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be toast.”
>”Stop messing with me, Anon,” Doubtful Pony grumbles. “You’re going to hurt Sam’s feelings.”
>Yeah. Okay.
>Maybe.
>Maybe Little Miss Burnsalot is looking less than excitedly cheerful.
>Genki, as THAT WEEB WHORE would call it (and has, lately, ever since she learned the term).
>Yep. Definitely ungenki looking right now.
>BUT IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT!
>YOU’RE – um – innocent? -ish?
>Eyes wide open, Berry takes another shot at gobbling down that chunk of carbon and ash held together only by pure malice and the hopes and dreams of a deluded, possibly Chaotic Evil, tiny little pony.
>”Oh,” she chokes. “Oh, Cel –“
>CHOKING INTENSIFIES.
>Well.
>That went about as you expected it to.
>Except she actually broke a chunk off.
>Shit.
>She’s going to die.
“Sam, could you get Berry some water?”
>She shouldn’t have to see Berry die, even if it *is* her fault.
>She didn’t bring anything to drink.
>Plus, well, the toast.
>So.
>Yeah.
>It’s her doublefault.
>The little filly practically flies off the bed – so fast and hard you expect Berry to slug you for kicking her, but no, she just waves one arm-analogue at you and pounds on her sadly asianesque chest with the other.
>”M’fine,” she coughs, “m’fine.”
>She coughs again.
>She keeps coughing.
>There’s no jiggle.
>In ANYONE else, there’d be Gainaxing like crazy going on right now, the way she’s convulsing like – 
>You’re an asshole.
>Fucking weebs like Fluttershit think this crap, not you.
>No, you’re a decent person.
>Who’s letting… his… uh… favorite pony die.
>Crap.
“You sure you’re okay?”
>Favorite Pony nods.
>OBLIGATIONS FULFILLED.
>SO.
>On to more pressing matters.
>You don’t want to die.
>Best Pony, either, you guess.
>SO.
>You grab the toast (hers and yours, even the little broken chunk she’d managed to crack off) and… uh…
>Shit.
>Approaching fillyscampering noises.
>Into the underwear drawer it goes!
>The murderrocks, not the filly sounds.
>How would you even put filly sounds in an underwear drawer?
>That’d be silly.
>Berry would murder you for stuffing Sam in there.
>Mostly because it’s your underwear drawer, partially because it’s any drawer.
>Also because then she’d know where you hid the COMPLETELY inedible bits of this complete breakfast.
>Those things aren’t coming out until trash day or you have a sudden and unexpected need to level a piece of furniture.
>Or frisbeemurder someone.
>”Here, Berry!” littlest ponyvoice squeaks, a glowing cup of water flying over her head.
>Just the one.
>Huh.
>Okay.
>Favoritism much?
>Fine.
>Just for that, you’re going to give all of Sam’s headpats for the week to Berry.
>Or maybe the poor girl can’t manage to magic two things at once, because the glass zips on ahead while Sam scrabbles at the sheets like an idiot again.
>Or maybe she can’t even manage one thing at once, because Berry has to do complex maneuvers to catch the glass, which she can’t do while she’s coughing like that guy who makes the burritos at that Mexican place that… uh… come to think of it, you should stop going there unless you want TB.
>So, all that running through your head, you barely catch the now non-glowing glass and…
>Juggle your plate, the glass, her plate, and… well, that’s about it.
>Anyway, Berry ends up gulping down the water while you hold two plates of scrambled abominations and bacon and watch Sam molest herself again while pretending to fly.
>That’s got to hurt her, and more than just her pride.
>Seriously.
>You picked up Flutterass by the tail once, and she screamed like you were murderaping her with a pickaxe.
>And yet this little filly takes it so easily?
>Yeah, okay, math checks out.
>She’s a heck of a lot less of a pussy than the yellow one.
>She lands a heck of a lot more gracefully, too. This time, anyway.
>Guess the first time was a learning experience.
>Hey, wait a minute.
>How many times has she done this levitation bit?
>Is this why you keep running out of cookies, even though you’re putting them on the top shelf in the pantry?
>Fucking probably.
>Shit.
>You’d apologize to Buttershit, buuuuuuut…
>You wouldn’t.
>So you won’t.
>”Are you okay?” Sam asks as she trots up the bed acting all concernedlike, as if she really cared if either of you survived this.
>Well, she probably does.
>She’s worried that you will.
>So.
>Berry nods.
>And pats the little filly’s head with her forehooves, the ones NOT holding the water glass, because you’re apparently doing that now, too.
>”I just swallowed it wrong,” she says in her warmest parental tone. “Thank you for the water.”
>”Uh-huh!” Cutest Filly beams back with a wide-ass smile.
>You know… it probably *is* about as wide as her ass, considering pony heads are so big compared to –
>NOPE.
>NO MORE THINKING ABOUT FILLYBUTT.
>”Did you like the eggs?”
>NOPE.
>Now you think about your doom.
“Um…”
>”I haven’t tried them yet, dear.”
>”Try them try them!”
>She’s BOUNCING.
>It’s making the whole bed rock.
>Springs are making bouncy spring noises.
>You are very uncomfortable about bouncy spring noises with a little filly in the bed.
>A *free* filly.
>The police may kick down the door and shoot you any second now.
“Okay, okay, we’ll try them!”
>SHE BOUNCES HARDER.
>FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
>You shove Berry’s plate back into her hooves –
>Wait, no.
>That’s your plate.
>It has the fork.
>Okay. Switcharoo.
>Wait, you could have just taken the fork.
>But… well…
>It’s already done.
>”DO YOU LIKE THEM DO YOU LIKE THEM!?”
>Berry… barely hesitates before shoving her snout into the plate.
>She’s a braver mare than you.
>Um.
>You know what you meant.
>But she doesn’t die.
>So.
>You pick up your fork.
>And.
>”ARE THEY GOOD!?”
>Give it a shot.
>They’re…
>… well…
>… almost…
“They’re –“
>”They’re good, Sam.”
“- sure, why not. Let’s go with that.”
>After her near-death experience, Berry’s too tired to beat the shit out of you, but that won’t stop her from trying.
>You can’t put her through that.
>”Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”
>”But *next* time, why don’t you –“
> - stooooooooooop the fuck listening.
>You know how to make eggs.
>Instead, you get ahead of the curve.
>You try the *bacon*.
>Glorious *bacon*.
>It’s…
>… well…
>… um…
>… a good thing you like crispy bacon.
>Not *this* crispy, but… well…
>… since she probably used up all the bacon in the house, you’ll just have to enjoy it as best you can.
>Beggars can’t be choosers, right?
“Here, Berry, you can have my eggs and I’ll take your –“
>SNAP.
>SHIT.
>OKAY. OKAY.
>YOU READ ABOUT THIS.
>HORSES AND SHIT CAN EAT MEAT AND SHIT.
>BUT YOU THOUGHT IT WAS DEAD SHIT.
>NOT, YOU KNOW, YOUR FUCKING HAND.
>SHE JUST TRIED TO EAT YOUR HAND.
>FUCK.
>”Mine.”
>FINE THEN.
>You should have seen this coming.
>Not the her trying to eat you part, though every time you read about some old lady who died with her windows all shut and her cats ate her, you start to wonder what will happen if you *do* drink yourself to death.
>Unless you're around to remind Sam she can use doorknobs, they'll be trapped.
>BUT ANYWAY.
>Not that part.
>No.
>Bacon is like legos, and everyone fucking loves legos.
>Even vegans.
>Plus it's basically the only part of breakfast Sam didn't cock up harder than... well... harder than her fucking toast or your non-existent drink.
>But you'll try the eggs anyway.
>Yup. Eww. Gross.
>These eggs are gross.
"Sam -"
>POKE.
"- um -"
>WARNING POKE.
>PROCEED WITH CAUTION.
"- could you... uh... get me something to drink?"
>"Sure!" she chirps. Yes, fucking chirps.
>Like a goddamn bird.
>You double check as she leaps off the bed, but no wings.
>Maybe they grow in later.
>Maybe you should ask Berry.
"Hey."
>You nudge Best Pone with your elbow.
>"What?" she gags through a mouth full of scrambled double abortions.
"When do ponies get their wings?"
>"Huh?"
"Sam. When does she get her wings?"
>Berry gives you one of her 'anon, you're a fucking dumbass' looks.
>She draws it out because she's eating bacon - probably to cleanse her palate, and you let her because you like your hands.
>They're what you masturbate with.
>Also good for holding beers and shit.
>"She's a unicorn," she finally answers.
>Answers?
>No, that's not an answer at all, is it!
"So?"
>"Unicorns have horns, not wings."
"So?"
>Another look.
"What? Ethel's pony has both."
>Berry sighs and looks down at her plate.
>She looks sad.
>Probably because she has to eat more of those eggs.
>It's her own damn fault for not letting you set Sam straight about her ability to make things remotely considered food.
>Still.
>Well.
>You feel bad.
>It's probably the eggs that you ate.
"Come on, let's get up."
>You grab her plate and WITH EXQUISITE SKILL remove yourself from your bed without any trouble or - uh - pants.
"Hold on, let me put some clothes on."
>Berry probably nods.
>You don't know.
>You've set the plates down and started the Epic Quest of Finding Your Pants and Putting Them On.
>It doesn't take long, because you're a fucking superstar.
>Also there are pants on your bedroom floor.
>Odds are, they were yours.
>They fit, so they're yours now.
>Anyway, fuck whatever pervert would have come in here, took his fucking pants off, and left.
"Hokay, c'mon, let's go!"
>You wave for her to follow and pick up the plates.
>"Yeah," Berry chuckles. "If we have explosive diarrhea from this, it shouldn't happen in bed."
"WHAT."
>"What...?"
"You're always giving me shit about wanting to give Sam shit about her shit, but you think it's shit too?"
>HYPOCRITE PONE shrugs and slinks out of bed LIKE A HYPOCRITICAL HYPOCRITE.
>"Of course I think it's bad," she sighs. "I'm not dead."
>She looks at the plates in your hand and winces.
>"Not *yet*, I mean."
"So you're insane and suicidal. Got it. And the reason you're dragging me down with you is...?"
>"You made me get a job in retail."
>You would tell her to go fuck herself, but she has a point.
>SHRUG.
"Maybe we can trick Fluttershy into eating some of it."
>"Oh, good idea."
>You bravely lead the way to the living room, where - surprise! - the little weeb is watching some... uh...
"That's not child appropriate, is it?"
>Hentaishy shrugs.
>"Sam is making breakfast," she answers in a soft whisper. "She won't notice."
"Uhhh..."
>Berry shakes her head.
"But -"
>She shakes her head harder.
"O... kay..."
>You *won't* tell the stupid pony she has a plate balanced on her head.
"But you're cleaning it up if something goes wrong."
>"I want to see how long it takes her to notice."
>You set your plates down on the table and throw yourself into your favorite drinking spot on the sofa.
>Berry crawls up after you and curls herself into a little sock puppet.
>"Five minutes?" she bets.
"Nah, she won't realize until the end of the episode. When it spills *everywhere*."
>"Which is in...?"
"Uh... okay, *maybe*."
>You squint, because eyes aren't meant to work this early in the afternoon, and try to read the display on your DVD player.
>What's it say?
>17:20?
>And this has... what...? 30 minute episodes?
>Except that's a lie and average episode length is about 22 min-
"Shit."
>Berry smiles SMUG AS A CUNT and reaches out to nudge her plate - her *baconless* plate over towards yours.
>"I believe these are yours."
"Bitch."
>WELL.
>YOU TAKE THEM.
>BECAUSE SHE WON.
>FUCKER.
>PICK UP HER PLATE AND EMPTY IT ON TO YOURS.
>AND YOU'RE LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS ABOUT IT.
>BEING A SORE LOSER IS YOUR FUCKING RIGHT, BY HONOR OF LOSING.
>ALL THOSE DEAD BABY CHICKENS.
>ALL YOURS.
>You wonder if pegapony tastes anything like chicken.
>Maybe?
>SO.
>YOU SIT BACK.
>AND ENJOY THE FUCKING SHOW.
>THE LITERAL FUCKING SHOW.
>AND YOUR SHITRAPED CHICKEN MENSTRUATION.
>AND YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE ABOUT IT.
>And - and where's your damn drink?
>The service here fucking sucks.
"I'll be right back."
>"No running away," Berry smirks. "You lost. Deal with it."
"I'm just going to the kitchen to get something to help me choke this down -"
>"You have a dildo in the kitchen?"
"Water. I'm going to get water."
>"Sam is getting -"
"Well -!"
>POKE.
>"No shouting," your pony snarls. "Trying to distract Fluttershy is cheating."
>FINE.
>FUCK IT.
>FINE.
>SILENT AS FUCK, YOU STAND THE FUCK UP.
>TAKE A SWING AT FLUTTERPERV'S HAT.
>MISS.
>STOICALLY ENDURE BERRY'S LAUGHTER.
>FUCK THIS.
>YOUR HOUSE.
>YOUR RULES.
>YOU'RE GOING TO THE KITCHEN.
>AND WHEN YOU COME BACK...
>... YOU'RE GOING TO EAT *ALL* THE EGGS.
>ALL OF THEM.
>You're going to need a lot of tabasco.
>And that means you're going to need a lot of water.
>And like you thought to yourself just seconds early, the service here fucking sucks.
>Sam managed to get a glass down - Berry's step stool is shoved right up against the counter, and the breadbox pushed over to be right below the cabinet with the drinkware, so you can see *how* she got there.
>And from there, it's a straight shot to the sink.
>And there - aside from the half filled with dirty dishes - there's a soaked little filly with a big-ass mug full of water set on the counter beside her.
>She doesn't even see you, she's eyeing the floor.
"Oh, shit, no."
>You are not cleaning up broken glass in your own fucking home.
>Do enough of that at work, and it's fucking annoying enough when you *are* getting paid to do it.
>Ain't nobody paying you for *shit* right now.
"Don't you dare."
>Sam looks up with those enormous filly eyes.
>"Help," she whispers, "I'm stuck."
"You couldn't go back down the stepladder?"
>"It's too heavy," Sam whimpers.
"So you were going to *jump* with it?"
>"I was going to get Fluttershy and ask her to help," she answers defensively.
"Uh-huh. Why didn't you get something smaller?"
>"It was the last clean glass."
>You ain't got time for this.
>You scoop her up under your arm and grab your mug with your other hand.
>That *better* just be spilled water making the handle all fucking wet and shit, not filly slobber.
>You're not going to question it.
>Nope.
>It's better to assume the best than find out what you already know.
"Okay - uh - shit."
>You spin around, spilling NO water and even less filly, and kick open the door to the fridge.
>Not all kung fu like, but turn, nudge it open with your toe, and then fiddle it all the way so you can stick a filly in.
>You have to use your foot for the same reason you have to shove Sam's face in the coolboxthing.
"Grab the tabasco for me, will you?"
>Your hands are full.
>"Okay!"
>Aww, shit, she grabs it with her mouth.
>And gives you what might be a thumbs up if ponies *had* thumbs.
>At least, that's how you're choosing to interpret that gesture.
>GOOD ENOUGH.
>You're going to eat all the goddamn eggs.
>No one can ever say you welshed out of a bet!
>Sore loser, sure, but you pay your debts!
>ALL OF THE -
>Ooops, there's the closing song.
>You can faintly hear it.
>Far more clear are Flutterdumb's scared/shocked/surprised/chair-shittingly-terrified squeals.
>You can't - but you can imagine - the sound of a plastic plate and horrifically mutilated eggs slamming full force into your carpet.
>It sounds very quiet.
>Which is probably exactly why you have to imagine the sound.
>You would sigh, except Berry's going to clean it up.
>And now you don't have to eat those eggs.
>Fuck yeah.
>"What was that?" Sam mumbles out of the corner of her mouth.
>You can't *actually* understand what she's saying because tabasco, but you can guess.
"Fluttershy being Fluttershy."
>"Oh."
>She looks around nervously.
>"Did she like her breakfast?"
"Yes. She loved it."
>You tap your foot.
>Sam squeaks again.
>"Well? Are you going to fucking stand here all fucking day, you worthless sack of shit?"
>Of course, it doesn't sound like that.
>And you don't think she'd say that.
>Probably not.
>But basically that's what you think that squeak meant.
>Probably.
"No, just giving Berry time to -"
>Wait, why are you telling her this?
>Wouldn't that ruin the whole -
>"Your eggs are getting cold."
"Okay, okay!"
>Berry's got the mess mostly cleaned up and out of sight before you get back.
>Someone's going to need to run the vacuum over that part of the carpet later, but it's good enough for now.
>Sam doesn't notice and Fluttershy's holding her nose and there isn't porn on the TV anymore, so everything's good.
>"I hit her," Berry says, explaining why Fluttershy is holding her nose. Probably also why there's no porn.
>If you had to guess, and you will, SOMEONE did something INCREDIBLY stupid like sassing Momma, wanting to watch borderline tentacle porn with a filly present, or swearing loudly after she dropped her breakfast.
>Possibly all three.
>You set your mug and your handy-dandy patented pony-shaped sauce carrying device down on the coffee table, next to...
"Oh f-"
>POKE.
"-aaaaabulous! I wanted more eggs! Are you sure you didn't want any of these, Fluttershy? Because I wouldn't mind splitting them if -"
>Sam drops your precious tabasco and gasps.
>"I CAN COOK MORE!"
>FUCK YOU AND THE WHORE YOU CRAWLED OUT OF.
>But you don't say that.
>Nope.
>"I'm full," Fluttershy whimpers.
>WELL FUCK.
>At least you don't *see* any lint or carpetcrap in your freshly enlarged pile of supposed 'eggs'.
>You look at it.
>Stare.
>Hope it disappears.
>It doesn't.
>Crap.
>Okay.
>You'll survive this.
>You've eaten worse.
>You've *cooked* worse.
>Berry's meals have spoiled you, that's all.
>You're used to a higher standard of food now.
>You don't want to go back!
>You have *standards* now!
>THIS SUCKS.
>You wish you had never started mixing anything with Sprite.
>Then you wouldn't have standards or have to eat this or have anything nice in your life.
>It would be better that way.
>"Need some help with that bottle?" Berry chuckles.
>SPITEFUL BITCH.
"No."
>YOU EMPTY OUT THE WHOLE FUCKING THING.
>YOU WILL TASTE NOTHING BUT PAIN AND HATE.
>IT'S FOR THE BEST.
>Sam hops from the table to the sofa and curls up between you and Berry.
>THERE WILL BE SWEARING.
>LOTS OF SWEARING.
>AND NOW YOU HAVE A PONY SHIELD.
>SHE CANNOT POKE YOU.
>YOU ARE INVEEEEEEEEEEEENCEEEEEEEEEEB-
>tiny poke
>FUCKING SHIT!
>SAM'S CRAWLING INTO YOUR LAP NOW!
>You keep your hands raises, because fuck Chris Hanson!
>You're not even touching her!
>This is entrapment!
>You didn't ask her to sit on your -!
>Oh, okay, she stops with just her forelegs on your thigh, and her head resting on those.
>That's still way too much for comfort, but she's staring up at you so eagerly...
>*Up*.
>Not at the Dragonslayer.
>So.
>Oh.
>She's waiting for you to eat the eggs.
>Goddammit.
>"Go on, Anon," SHIT PONY laughs at your misfortune. "She's waiting for you."
>YES, YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT.
>FINE.
>Fuck them.
>You hope you die.
>Too bad it's almost edible.
>Once you drowned out everything else with HATESAUCE and remember that standards are for people with real jobs (fuck those people), the eggs are better than you thought it would be.
>Not good, of course.
>Not even acceptable.
>But she looks so happy.
>Sam. Not Berry.
>Berry can get fucked by a blender.
>And it's not that naziwinian spitehappiness.
>Good ponies get headpats.
>You ruffle Sam's mane and she giggles.
>Good ponies also get duped.
"You didn't make any for yourself, did you? Would you like some -"
>"I did a *lot* of taste testing," she giggles and sticks out her tongue. "It wasn't very good at first, but I'm glad I made something you like!"
>OH GOD NO.
>FILLY NO NUZZLE THIGH.
"OKAY. SO. PIZZA FOR LUNCH, RIGHT?"
>Berry shrugs.
>Sam stops DOING BAD THINGS and nods eagerly.
>Fluttershy otakus.
>Probably.
>You're ignoring her.
>OH GOD MORE FILLY NUZZLES.
>"You're a good person," she murmurs while Berry FUCKING LAUGHS.
"NOPE, NOPE, NO I'M NOT, YOU CAN STOP DOING THAT."
>"You pretend that you're mean," she laughs, "but you're really nice."
"NOPE, I'M EVIL."
>"You *aren't*. You're really nice."
>"Yeah, Anon," Berry chuckles. "You're a decent guy."
"NOPE."
>Sam laughs again.
>You're not going to jail for this.
>NOPE.
"Fine, go get my wallet, I'll prove it to you."
>"Why?"
"BECAUSE I'M CARD-CARRYING, CERTIFIED EVIL."
>Sam frowns and turns away from you.
>YES.
>"Berry, he's doing the thing again."
>"Yeah, he does that," TRICKSTER PONE sighs. "Go get his wallet and give him a minute to stop being an idiot."
>Little filly frowns are sad, but better than getting arrested, so you wave for her to go.
>Besides -
>Aw, damn, you've already eaten all the eggs.
>And everything from your mouth down hurts.
>She hops off the sofa and does the teeny pony shuffle away.
>"So," Berry smirks once Sam's out of the room, "what's in your wallet?"
"Employee discount card."
>"Oh, right," Berry nods. She looks up, just her eyes, tries to read the inside of her brain, and then nods again. "Yep, checks out. Certified card-carrying villain."
>Fluttershy shudders, which you probably wouldn't notice, except she also starts making noise like a teakettle that's been kicked in the ribs.
>It's impossible to ignore, because it feels like red-hot icepicks driven into your brain.
"What."
>"Do you kick puppies, too?" she whimpers.
"No more internet for you."
>She's getting to be a little too genre savvy.
>Or wrong genre savvy.
>Whichever, this is probably for the best.
>Silly pony doesn't know how to clear her history.
"ANYWAY, how about that breakfast?"
>"I diiiidn't get to eaaaaat any," FlutterWHINE WHINES MORE.
>Or is she gloating?
>Either way, you should beat her.
>You'll pencil that down for when you get some free time.
>"I'll... uh... I'll get up earlier tomorrow," Berry mumbles with a pained smile.
>Ooooooh, *good* breakfast?
>Wait.
>Or... mediocre breakfast...?
"You're going to show her how it's done?"
>"No."
>YES.
>GOOD BREAKFAST.
"And I guess I'll look into schools for her, though... I don't think anyone is going to believe a pony is named Samantha."
>Berry nods.
>She stops nodding.
>She nods slower.
>She laughs.
>You don't like the way she laughs.
>She shakes her head.
>YOU DON'T LIKE THE WAY SHE SHAKES HER HEAD.
"Whaaaaat...?"
>"Human names aren't uncommon with the younger fillies these days," Berry half-says, half-sighs, all-unsettles, "but -"
"How the fuck would you know that!?"
>Seriously?
>How?
>"- but Sam he *does* need a proper pony name, instead of a *slave* name."
"Ooooookaaaaaaaay."
>Slave name?
>She's just shit talking, right?
>Taking the piss?
>POKE.
"Okay, okay, I'll try to think of something."
>It's supposed to reflect the pony's personality, right?
>Like how Berry is always punching things and made of 100% fruit juice.
>And Fluttershy is... okay, that one actually justifies your ideas.
>Except Dumbass McWeebwhore would be better.
>So.
>Sam.
>What's a good pony name.
>Hmm.
>One or two words, right?
>Three to four syllables?
>Something like that?
>Berry's grinning like a filly with her hoof caught in a cookie jar, all guilty and embarrassed, but still happy because COOKIE.
>Probably because she knows what you're thinking.
>AND FEELS BAD ABOUT WHAT SHE STARTED.
>She should.
>You're going to name the FUCK out of Sam!
>MudButt?
>Always Intheway?
>Hobo Filly?
>Yep, there's the winner.
"Ho -"
>"Burnt Toast?"
"Perfect."

>"Please don't tell her I said that."

DRINK 3: Good Girls Get Gundams
>Be Butterslu- uh, *Fluttershy*.
>Buck it! Now he's got you doing it too!
>Day 16XX on Earth.
>Or thereabouts.
>You used to keep track, but... weeeeeeeell...
>Everything's started to blur together.
>About... um... for about...
>How long have you worked here?
>Come to think of it, how long have you been waiting patiently outside the HR office for him?
>Patiently!
>Like a Good Girl!
>You even have your leash in your mouth so he doesn't have to bend down for it!
>That's something only a Good Girl would do.
>Certainly not your *other* roommate.
>Berry Punch is *not* a Good Girl.
>She even sleeps in Master's bed sometimes!
>All the time!
>But not like a sex toy or his pillow or anything lewd like that!
>Just *sleeping*! You think!
>That's not Good Girl behavior!
>It's just confusing!
>For you, too!
>Is she the alpha?
>Should you be nicer to her?
>He buys you more stuff, though, because alcohol doesn't count since he drinks it too.
>So are you the alpha?
>You don't really want to be the alpha.
>That sounds hard.
>But also he won't rut you, so you *can't* be the alpha, not that you'd mind if he did because you're a Good Girl and Good Girls don't mind that kind of thing.
>But has he rutted her?
>You don't know, you're a Good Girl!
>Listening at his door every night is something a Bad Girl would do, and that one thing that happened a few months ago you're pretty sure was just them messing with you!
>They wouldn't have actually done that in the living room with you *right there*, would they?
>Of course not!
>But they did make a lot of noise, which made it hard to concentrate on your show.
>And you were *really* concentrating because there was a great fight scene on and - and - OH CELESTIA!
>You're missing your shows!
>Right now!
>You would whine, but Good Girls don't whine, even if he *is* making you stay past your scheduled shift - and off the clock, at that! - because you can't walk home on your own and you're missing your shows!
>They're streaming - whatever that *really* means besides you can pause it and Anon tells you not to worry about missing an episode, but he's wrong!
>You're still missing them *right now*.
>You tried to pause today's episodes before you left for work, but the silly teeveebox thing said they weren't available yet so you couldn't and now you're misssssssssing it and will have to watch them laaaaaaaaaaate!
>But you don't whine because you're a Good Girl.
>Like how you didn't look when they were making those noises because you're a Good Girl! And because your show was on and you were pretty sure they were just making those noises to mess with you.
>Probably?
>Otherwise you might feel jealous.
>But that also doesn't bother you as much as it might have.
>Getting attention doesn't seem so important now that you can watch your shows whenever you want, even if they *are* late because you missed them!
>Oh. Well.
>You keep a smile on your face and your leash clamped between your teeth and smile and smile and smile because you're self aware and know that your mind is wandering and you want to be smiling when he comes out of the office.
>Anon will need a smile.
>He's probably getting yelled at for listening to his angry, vulgar music all the time!
>Or for being mean to the managers, even if it is sometimes funny. Sometimes! But not as often as he thinks!
>Or for trying to seduce you and Berry on the clock via headpats!
>That's lewd and unseemly behaviour!
>He can't lead a mare on like that!
>He's going to get fired!
>And that's why he needs a smiling face!
>Also, you're a Good Girl.
>And Good Girls get -
>The door slams open.
>Oooooooh, he's frowning.
>That's not good.
>But he's also not singing and dancing, so he probably wasn't fired.
>That's... good?
>You guess?
>"C'mon, Flutterbutt, let's go."
"MHAY!"
>You have to poke his leg a couple times before he sighs and reaches for your leash, but it's important!
>It's the law!
>Also, you're missing your shows!
>He needs to hurry!
>"Okay, okay," he groans and snaps the leash like reins. "Giddiup, pony. Lessgo."
>You're a Good Girl!
>You wait until you're outside the store and maybe a block or so down the sidewalk to start really pulling him to go faster.
>*Trying!*
>He's heavy!
>How does Berry do it!?
>Stupid Earth Pony strength!
>You're missing your shows and you've been a Good Girl and you deserve to see your shows!
>You did your eight hours!
>And waited another!
>Patiently!
>Berry got to stay home today and that's not fair!
>She's *not* a Good Girl!
>"You're not even going to ask what happened?"
>MAYBE YOU'RE NOT A GOOD GIRL EITHER!
>OH. OH SWEET CELESTIA.
>YOU WERE ONLY THINKING ABOUT YOUR SHOWS AND NOT ABOUT YOUR OWNER.
>WHICH IS FAIR, BECAUSE HE'S NOT A GIANT ROBOT OR MASTER OF THE 382 SECRET MARTIAL TECHNIQUES, AND DEFINITELY NOT A VERY GOOD COOK LET ALONE ONE THAT WOULD BLOW YOUR CLOTHES OFF!
>BUT HE MIGHT NOT THINK IT'S FAIR.
>AND HE MIGHT THINK YOU AREN'T A GOOD GIRL.
>HE'S GOING TO SELL YOU TO SOMEONE WITH A BUNCH OF TINY LITTLE CHILDREN WHICH WOULD BE NICE EXCEPT HUMAN CHILDREN HAVE HANDS AND PULL ON THINGS AND YOUR POOR TAIL IS GOING TO BE YANKED SO HARD AND YOUR WINGS PLUCKED BARE AND YOU'LL NEVER FLY AGAIN AND HE HATES YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE A BAD GIRL OH CELESTIA YOU'RE A BAD GIRL.
"Ummm.... well... I thought you'd tell me when you were ready to...?"
>WILL HE BELIEVE YOU?
>OH CELESTIA, LUNA, ETC PLEASE LET HIM BELIEVE YOU.
>"Fair enough."
>THANK YOU, CELESTIA.
>LUNA.
>ETC.
"So... um..."
>"Remember that position I asked about around... oh... six months ago? The promotion? The one where I'd actually get to have fun at work?"
>You don't - and aren't entirely certain such a thing is even possible for him - but you nod.
"Did you... um... get it...?"
>"Yeah."
"yay"
>He's going to make more money!
>Maybe you won't have to work anymore!
>You won't have to go to that horrible place ever again!
>And he'll have fun, so maybe he won't be so grumpy all the time!
>"Except it's no longer a promotion."
"Oh..."
>"Yeah, my pay won't be going up at all."
>That's... fine.
>Between you and Berry, you think you know which pony he'd let spend all day at home anyway, even though that certain somepony *would* drink all of his tequila while he was away!
>And you would have missed your friends here.
>That's right!
>Look on the bright side!
"At least it's something you *want* to do...?"
>"I guess, but..."
"... and you won't have to work receiving any more!"
>You smile!
>Good Girls smile!
"I know how much you hated being there every day. Maybe now you'll have fun and everything will be better!"
>"Yeah... about that..."
>Oh?
>Oh!
>Not good!
>Now Berry is going to be back there all alone!
>Or with some stranger supervising her!
>Maybe a sexy, tall, handsome human stranger!
"Are you... um... worried about Berry...?"
>SHE MIGHT BE SEDUCED!
>BEFORE YOU, EVEN!
"I mean, since you won't be working with her and... well..."
>"Oh, that's the kicker," he laughs.
>HIM LAUGHING IS NEVER A GOOD THING.
>"I *am*!"
"So... um..."
>Maybe you should stop talking now?
>You should probably stop talking now.
>THIS WILL NOT GET ANY BETTER.
>YOU'RE MISSING YOUR SHOWS.
>You're a smart pony.
>You're going to keep your mouth shut and -
>"YEP!"
>TOO LATE.
>OH CELESTIA!
>"I'm still responsible for receiving!"
>YOU SHOULD HAVE SHUT UP SOONER!
>"*And* now seasonal too! Just in time for the back to school reset!"
>YOU WISH HE WAS LIKE NORMAL OWNERS AND WOULD JUST BEAT YOU INSTEAD OF WHINING WHEN HE'S FRUSTRATED.
>"Boy, it sure will be fun having to run to the back to deal with vendors every five minutes while I'm trying to set ALL THOSE NEW PLANOGRAMS!"
>It WOULD BE OVER SOONER IF HE'D JUST BEAT YOU OR RAPE YOU OR BOTH AND GET ALL THAT STRESS OUT OF HIS SYSTEM!
>HE'S GOING TO BE WHINING ALL WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!
>*If* you're lucky!
>Since when have you ever been lucky?
>Well, he *did* buy you... and he *does* have all this fun anime stuff...
>... and he doesn't mind you watching it all the time...
>... and he's even bought you some manga...
>... a few figures...
>... that one limited edition collectors boxed set of that one show complete with the main character's glasses and a little ruler and a keychain and a million other things.
>"Oh - AND - since they figure I have my own desk in receiving and it's no longer a managerial position, I don't get a desk in the office even though the I now have more paperwork to keep track of, and..."
>He's not going to stop until he gets home to Berry.
>"... it's not like I can rely on Berry to take care of receiving all on her own since she now has to..."
>And then they'll *both* be doing it!
>You need a drink.
>You've been a Good Girl.
"So. YEAH. You know all that ship-to-store shit?"
>You deserve Good Things.
"That's all on her now. She's got to take it up front on her own, twice a-"
>You're off the clock.
>According to Master, that means you don't have to listen to anything work-related.
>So you don't!
>You start humming one of your favorite OP songs.
>It's not being a Bad Girl - he's *said* you don't have to listen and you've tried cheering him up in the past and it won't do any good no matter what you try.
>He's so busy whining like - to use one of the local phrases - "like a little bitch with a skinned knee" - that he *nearly* walks RIGHT PAST THE LIQUOR STORE!
>He's letting you lead the way, so that's what you do.
>You're a Good Girl!
>"Those fucking cunts really think - hey, Ethel - that they can double our workload like that and -"
>He drops your leash to lean against the counter and share his troubles with his older friend - not that you're calling her old, just that he's known her longer!
"Is... um..."
>"Back of the store, dear," Ethel answers even as she nods along to his whining. "Near the cider. Have her bring us up a pair, will you? I'm thinking..."
>"Really been more of a tequila kind of day, Ethel. I need me some fucking hatejuice."
>"Cider'll calm you down," she counters before turning back to you. "Have Tia bring up two cans of that Swedish stuff. I've been meaning to see what it's like."
>"You've carried it for nearly a year now."
>"I know that, and now I'm going to find out what it's like. Off you go, girl."
"Yes, ma'am."
>You start to trot off like a Good Girl but Ethel shouts for you to wait before you get down the first aisle.
>You do because you're a Good Girl.
>"Here, hold up," she murmurs, "let me take that leash off before it gets snagged on something."
>You hold still for her because you're a Good Girl.
>Not because you know exactly what that's like and you're really glad you have a normal collar and not a choke chain anymore.
>That wasn't very fun, but you're a Good Girl now.
>"Okay, off you go," the nice woman whispers. "Have fun. And don't forget about that cider!"
>You nod quickly and trot away.
>Cider sounds nice.
>Maybe you can have some.
>Anon never seems to notice when you drink some of his, so you don't think he minds.
>And if you drink too much and don't leave enough to satisfy him, he'll have to get another and you can have some of it too!
>This is the Best Plan!
>You wouldn't exactly say you bounce to the back of the store, but that's because you used to be friends with Pinkie Pie and you know bouncing and this certainly isn't it!
>Close enough though that you don't miss a beat when the Princess uses that particular word when asking what put you in such a good mood.
"I'm off the clock, Princess."
>"Oh?" she giggles.
"Mhm."
>"And that's reason enough for your cheerful attitude today?"
"Mhm! I'm off the clock and my owner says that since we're paid to be miserable that we should be cheerful whenever we're not getting paid and I'm not being paid right now so I'm happy!"
>The Princess tilts her head to one side.
>"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"I'm paid to be there and be miserable, not to do work."
>"Oh... um... but you *do* work, don't you? They're not -"
"Work is just one way they make us miserable!"
>"Ah," she murmurs and nods, but you don't think she actually understands but it would be rude to say that and you're a Good Girl.
>And Good Girls do what they're told.
"Mi-um-Ethel said to tell you that she wants two cans of cider. The... um..."
>What was that word she used?
"The... um... swedish cider...? I don't know what that means but if you help me find it I can take it to them!"
>No one will ever know!
>And you can't let the Princess do something so menial!
>"Rekorderlig," the Princess nods. "No, I shall take it to them, but..."
>Awwwwwwww.
>"... did she specify a flavor?"
"Um..."
>DID SHE?
"... no...?"
>The Princess SMILES!
>"How do you feel about passionfruit?"
"... um... I don't really have an opinion I suppose..."
>SHE SMILES MORE.
>LIKE RAINBOW DASH USED TO WHEN SHE WAS PRANKING SOMEONE.
>PRINCESSES CAN'T SMILE LIKE THAT.
>She's clearly Queen Chrysalis in disguise.
>YOU KNEW THE PRINCESS COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE WORKING IN A LIQUOR STORE.
>You better play along or she might do bug things to you.
>"Well then..."
>The Princess/Changeling Queen/etc walks over to the coolers set in the back wall.
>"Coming?"
>PLAY ALONG OR YOU'RE DEAD.
>And you can't die yet.
>You still have anime to watch and your Japanese is only at a third year level kawaii desu gomen-kun.
>There's still so much to live for. Like the next season.
>You follow behind her and watch as the EVIL CHANGELING QUEEN pulls a small case out of one of the coolers.
>She sets it on the floor and tears open the packaging with her hoof and mouth, like...
>Okay, there's not really any other way to open these boxes.
>"Here," she giggles and pushes a can along the floor towards you. "I'll take two up front and then we can share these."
>SHE IS YOUR VERY FAVORITE PRINCESS.
>You should probably wait for the her to come back.
>Though...
>You've gotten a *lot* of experience with cans thanks to Anon and Berry usually being too drunk to open their own, so it's no trouble for you to open your cider.
>Who needs magic?
>You giggle and POP THE TOP.
>It sounds so fizzy!
>And tastes so -!
>Good, you guess?
>You don't know.
>Cider is cider and cider is good, though this is different from the cider from Sweet Apple Acres - not that you can remember what that tasted like, but you know this is *different*.
>If you were Applejack or maybe even Twilight you could explain the how and why.
>Analyze its flavor and... stuff.
>Even Berry could, probably.
>Maybe... maybe the Princess?
>She *does* work in a liquor store.
>But not you.
>You almost ask her when she comes back, but the bubbles tickle your nose and you sneeze and by the time you remember you've finished your can but there were only four in the package and the Princess is drinking the last one!
>Maybe you can sneak a bit of hers when she's not looking.
>You don't think she'd mind.
>But maybe you would?
>Wouldn't that be an indirect kiss and you can't just kiss the Princess like that!
>Not unless she's really drunk like that one time but Twilight doesn't really count.
>"So..."
>EEEEEEP.
>"... Fluttershy..."
>You sit up straight and nod attentively.
>"... it's been a while since you've come in here."
>You nod.
>"I heard from Ethel that man finally bought you."
>You nod again.
>"Is he still treating you well?"
>More nodding.
>"Do you know what a bobblehead is?"
>Yes, so you nod.
>"Because you look like one right now."
>You -
"Oh, sorry."
>The Princess giggles.
>"Are you happy with him?"
"Oh, yes Princess. Mostly."
>"Mostly?"
"He won't -"
>You can't say that to the Princess!
"Well, mostly. He buys me things!"
>"Like...?" she asks with a faint grin.
"Toys!"
>She's not smiling anymore!
>Toys are for foals!
>She must think you're silly and stupid and a Bad Girl!
"I MEAN COLLECTABLES."
>"Oh," she grumps. "I thought you meant something unsavory."
"THEY'RE FOR ADULTS."
>NOW SHE'S FROWNING.
>"He buys you... *adult* toys?"
"THEY'RE COLLECTABLES. SOMETIMES HE EVEN WATCHES ME PLAY WITH THEM."
>SHE'S FROWNING MORE.
>SHE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND.
"THEY'RE COLLECTABLES, PRINCESS. *NOT* FOR FOALS, I SWEAR. HE EVEN HELPED ME WITH ONE."
>HER LIP IS CURLING JUST LIKE AN ANGRY DOGGY.
>EEEEEEEEEEEEEP.
"SEE, THEY'RE NOT FOR KIDS! IT WAS ALL STICKY AND STUCK TO MY FUR AND I COULDN'T PUT THEM TOGETHER BUT IT'S OKAY BECAUSE IT WAS A REAL GRADE GUNPLA AND VERY DIFFICULT SO DEFINITELY FOR ADULTS.
>SHE KEEPS STARING AT YOU!
"IT'S A COLLECTA-"
>"What's a... what word did you use? A 'Gunpla'?"
"It's..."
>[INTERNAL SCREAMING]
"ANON I NEED YOUR PHONE!"
>[EXTERNAL SCREAMING]

ASTERISK ASTERISK ASTERISK ASTERISK ASTERISK

>He needs a bigger phone.
>You've got it on the floor between you and the Princess, but she can't see anything because your nose is in the way because how else are you supposed to scroll down until you find the right kit?
>All of the ones at the top of the store's website are for *foals* and it's probably a good thing she can't see them because then she would still be annoyed with you but you aren't playing with toys!
>They're *collectables*.
>It's taking a while, though. 
>It's hard for you to scroll through a page when the screen is barely bigger than your nose.
>Impossible for you to see what your scrolling past.
>You have to stop every couple of nudges and take a quick look and nudge some more and look and nudge and look and AH!
>There!
>You spin the phone around to show the Princess your prized Gunpla.
>SHE LOOKS CONFUSED.
"It's not a toy! It's a collectable for adults!"
>"He buys you... these...?"
"IT'S A COLLECTABLE."
>"And sometimes watches you play with them?"
"THEY'RE NOT TOYS. I DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY PLAY. THEY AREN'T TOYS. I CREATE DRAMATIC DIORAMAS WITH MY COLLECTABLE MODELS."
>"He helps you with them?"
"THEY COME UNASSEMBLED AND I HAVE TO CUT THEM OFF THE SPRUE AND ASSEMBLE THEM AND ONLY CHILDREN PLAY WITH SNAP-FITS SO I HAVE TO USE THREE DIFFERENT KINDS OF GLUE AND -"
>"I believe you, my little pony," the Princess chuckles and pats your head with her hoof.
>You're a Good Girl!
>[SILENT SQUEEEE]
>"They look very complicated."
>She smiles.
>You knew she would understand if you showed her pictures!
>"And these are from a..."
>She nudges Anon's phone with her nose.
>"... a cartoon?"
"IT'S CALLED ANIME AND IT'S VERY DEEP."
>"Ah, I apologize. *Anime*."
"IT HAS -"
>There's a hoof on your nose.
>OH NO.
>BUG THINGS.
>"I shall look it up later, Fluttershy."
"WE COULD WATCH SOME TOGETHER."
>"Perhaps," she laughs. "You seem happy being owned by him."
"He gives me lots of attention and things!"
>"How about your other friends? Berry Punch and..."
"Burnt Toast?"
>"Burnt Toast?" she gasps.
"I MEAN SAMANTHA."
>"Yes, her," the Princess smiles. "Are they as happy with him as you are?"
>You... shrug.
"Iono."
>She waits.
>Oh.
>Wrong answer!
>You're a Bad Girl!
"I... um... think so...? Samantha is a free pony so she doesn't have to stay - she has her papers and everything - so I guess she's happy I guess or she wouldn't stay, right?"
>"There are other ways for a man to make a pony do as he wishes than a scrap of paper claiming ownership."
"I... suppose so, Princess, but I think she *is* happy."
>Who wouldn't be with so much anime at her hooves!?
>Wait.
>Wait!
>WAIT!
>Is that how he's controlling you!?
>If so, you don't really mind.
>"He doesn't feel resentful looking after the filly even though he doesn't own her?"
>You shake your head.
"Not at all."
>He's probably joking.
>You like to think he's joking.
>He's not going to punt any of you.
"He's even talking with Berry about sending Samantha to school."
>He's a good master.
>"School?"
"Yes, Princess. She... um..."
>It's true, but Good Girls don't speak ill of others.
>But this is the Princess!
>You can't lie to her!
"... Samantha can't read very well and she doesn't really... ummm... she can't cook, but she's klutzy so that fits the trope and she's not very good at math, and..."
>Oh! 
"Princess?"
>"Hmm?"
"You used to run a school, didn't you?"
>OH NO.
>YOU MADE HER SAD.
>"That was a very long time ago," the Princess murmurs, "and I'm afraid it wasn't a normal school."
>YOU'RE A BAD GIRL!
>The Princess stares into her can and sighs.
>"If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, then it would be best if your owner found someone else. Administering a school and teaching are two very different things."
>She sighs again.
>YOU'RE A VERY BAD GIRL.
>"I think I've had enough," she says and holds out her can to you with both hooves. "Would you like the rest?"
>INDIRECT KISSU!
>You nod and you don't care if you look like a bobblehead.
>The Princess is quiet in thought, so you drink down deep and enjoy and yay.
>You have a marefriend now and she's a Princess!
>"I hope he can find a school willing to accept a pony," she murmurs once you're done.
>Oh, maybe she wasn't thinking. Maybe she was waiting.
>You should have realized.
>So you nod again.
>"Oh?"
>NOD.
"Mhm! Anon looked it up and there are several schools nearby that accept free ponies."
>Is it too early to cuddle?
>You wanna cuddle.
>"Private schools?"
>You shake your head.
>Ooooh, dizzy.
>"Really?"
>NOD.
>"Hmm."
>She's smiling.
>You made your new marefriend happy.
>yay
>You're a Good Girl again!
>Awwwww.
>You hear footsteps.
>But maybe that means headpats?
>After all, you've been a Good Girl.
>"Ready to go?" Anon asks, WITHOUT HEADPATS. "Your little weeb shop won't be open much longer."
>The Princess raises an eyebrow.
"He promised we could go to the shop after work if I was a Good Girl!"
>Your marefriend should be so proud of you.
>"'Weeb'?"
>"Stupid anime stuff," Anon answers, getting it ALL WRONG *again*.
>"Oh, like those... Gundams?"
>You nod.
>"Ah."
>You would try to explain properly, but the shop *does* close soon.
>You think.
>Why would he lie?
>It's a shame to leave your new marefriend so soon, but you shouldn't smother her.
>You've seen enough anime to know how *that* turns out.
"Okay."
>You don't even have a basement to keep her in!
>You wait patiently while he reattaches your leash and - oh, *darn* - picks up his own phone.
>You should have done that for him!
>"No pony slobber," he says happily? "Nice."
>Happily!
>You're never picking up anything for him ever again!
>"Thanks for bringing me in here, Butterbutt."
>"Her name is Fluttershy," the Princess corrects.
>"Right. Shutterfly. See you, Tia."
>Using a derivative of her first name!?
>You gasp in horror.
>Silently.
>On the inside.
>Is that why he hasn't made the moves on you, because he's already dating your new marefriend?
>"I wish you'd use my full name."
>yay
>He's just a presumptuous asshole.
>"Never."
>He looks down at you and smiles.
>"So what was that kit you wanted?
"I *need* a 1/60 Scale Unicorn Gundam 02 Banshee."
>"It's not another one of those super expensive ones, is it?"
"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?"

DRINK 4: FUCKING NERDS
Part 1: In which Fluttershy did something exceedingly silly and earned herself the harshest punishment known to ponykind.
"So thaaaaaaaaat bitch -"
>"Hold up," Ethel sighs and raises her hand, "let me stop you there."
>She takes a long sip of her gin and then nods.
>"Continue."
>You step into the Grog Gulag and let the door slam behind you.
>"Well?"
"So that *bitch* -"
>Ethel nods.
"- you will not *believe* what she did!"
>Ethel stares and probably is waiting for you to keep going, but you kinda want her to guess, so you keep your damn mouth shut and saunter up to the counter that has become your favorite place to lean.
>"Who?" she eventually asks.
>Oh. Right. Maybe you should have told her.
"Guess."
>"A customer?"
>You wave a hand at yourself.
"I'm wearing fucking civis, Ethel. Do you think my day possibly could have been so shitty that I went straight home, showered, and changed before coming back out for my booze? And all before -"
>You check your imaginary watch.
"- probably a few hours before my shift normally ends?
>"To get the blood off, maybe."
>She has a point.
>"I sometimes expect to see you on the news, so..."
"Okay, okay."
>She raises her glass in salute.
>She knew she had a point.
"But no. I'm off today."
>"I thought you worked on Mondays."
"Put in for the day off."
>"Ah."
"And it's a good thing too, because thaaaaaaaaaaaaaat bitch -"
>"Which one?" Ethel interrupts.
>Oh. Right. You still haven't said.
>Valid question.
"Fluttershy."
>"Oh?" your bestest friend chuckles. "This'll be new. I thought you were going to complain about Sam."
>You wave your hand dismissively.
"Nah. Sam's at school today. First day."
>You shrug.
"That's why I put in for today off, so Berry and I could walk her to school. We're going to pick her up later too."
>"How nice of you."
"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome, aren't I? Anyway, while we were gone, that *BITCH* -"
>"Fluttershy."
"Yeah, Fluttershy, she decided to paint one of her stupid gunpla."
>"Gunpla?"
"SHIT! Now that little fucking weeb has *me* talking like her!"
>Ethel smirks. SMIRKS! AT YOU!
"Look, I just own and watch anime, but I own and watch a lot of shit, I'm not -"
>"I'm not judging, Anon."
"- seriously, I'm not a weeb. I don't even have any -"
>"I don't know what a 'weeb' is."
"Oh."
>Well.
"Then you can't say I am one."
>"No," she chuckles and drinks, "but now I know you hate being called one."
>Fuck.
>"Anyway, she was painting one of her...?"
"Stupid little fucking plastic piece-of-shit robot toys."
>"Oh? That sounds nice."
"She used house paint."
>Ethel raises what would be an eyebrow if it wasn't so wispy and white.
>"I take it that's bad?"
"It's -!"
>How do you explain just how badly Fluttershy fucked up?
>Duncan Donuts would have ragesploded.
>Not that you know who that is.
>You aren't some kind of nerdork.
>But you do know that it's
>two
>thin
>coats.
>Not "AND EVERYTHING AT ONCE!"
>But that's not even the beginning.
>No.
"Forget the house paint."
>"Okay," Ethel shrugs and drinks. "Not a problem. At my age, forgetting is easy."
"What's important is she got paint *everywhere*. And I mean *EVERYWHERE*. Because she couldn't be arsed to -"
>Ethel holds up her empty flask - and an empty hand.
>"Hold up."
"Sure. Actually, I need a drink too, because this was such *bullshit* that -"
>"TIA!"
>Sure does have a loud voice for such a tiny woman.
>"Yes'm?" the world's biggest pony calls back.
>"Bring up Anon something to drink!"
"And what about your gin?"
>Ethel gives you the same dismissive wave you gave her earlier in response to... to... something.
>"Don't worry about it, dear. The customer comes first."
>So this is what good customer service feels like.
>You've never been on this side of it before.
"- so, as I was saying, she couldn't be arsed to -"
>"Humor an old woman and wait until you have your drink. I'm afraid this isn't as new as I thought it would be."
"Uh..."
>"She won't be long."
"... kay."
>It's fine.
>You'll still be pissed in a minute or two.
>You check your imaginary watch.
>Yep.
>You check it again.
>Yep. Still angry.
>"See, here she is."
>Mmmmm-hmmmm.
>Still angry and ready to bitch.
>The pony sets a bottle on the table - you're going to pretend she was using magic to carry it and that's just condensation on the outside.
>"Here you go, Anon," she says and dips her head. "Anything else, Ethel?"
"TAG!" The woman laughs and slaps her pony's shoulder. "Your turn."
>"Oh?" Tia gasps as the woman jumps up and dashes away from the counter. "Oh! Oh, you heinous, rancid *cunt*."
>Pretty fucking spry for a 90 year old.
>Huh.
>You pop the bottle off your... IPA?
>Well, whatever.
>... and take a sip.
"Like I was saying..."
>You sigh and lean harder against the counter.
"... Celestia, Fluttershy got paint fucking *everywhere*."
>The pony sighs, rolls her eyes, and shuffles her little ass behind the counter.
>She looks about for a little bit and grimaces.
>"And she drank all the gin!?"
"What? Fluttershy? No, it's too harsh for her."
>You wave your hands around and make a stupid face.
>Would have gone on to do a stupid impersonation of Worst Pony, but you feel silly when Glowbutt looks back to you.
"I wish she'd drink some fucking paint, though."
>"I meant Ethel," Celestia sighs. "Ethel drank all the gin."
"Oh. She better fucking not have drunk all my gin."
>"I meant -"
>The pony sighs again, so loud and poignant it deserves it's own line in the narrative that is your life.
>"- nevermind," she says with a polite retail smile. "Continue your story."
"Right. So. She drunk all the - wait, no - she spilled paint fucking *everywhere*."
>"Paint? Fluttershy? What was she doing?"
>Your turn to sigh.
>Clearly she's not listening.
"She was decided she *had* to paint one of her gunpla because it wasn't show-accurate."
>"Oh, her little toys? That sounds like a wonderful idea. I thought some of the pictures she showed me looked a little plain, but - but I can tell this didn't go exactly according to plan."
"NOPE!"
>"Oh. Dear. What. A. Surprise. Please tell me more."
"Yeah, I should have known better, right? She told me she wanted to try and I told her to fucking wait and I'd go to the store today before I picked up Sam -"
>"Sam?"
"Yeah, she's at school."
>"Wonderful!"
"Her first day, but anyway I fucking *told* Splattershy I would go to the nerd store and buy her some proper model paints and shit and to leave the fucking house paint in the garage alone!"
>Big Dumb Horse Frown.
"I fucking TOLD HER *not* to move those cans and you know what?"
>"What."
"She fucking didn't!"
>Horsie politely raises an eyebrow - just like Ethel did if she still had eyebrows wait do ponies have eyebrows or is it really just more like a ridge of hair/fur/fuzz that's slightly aaaaawwwwww, fuck it you don't care.
>The gesture and it's meaning are clear.
"She *didn't* move the paint cans."
>"But...?"
"She still somehow popped the lids off."
>"Ah."
"Nope! Nu-uh, don't you 'ah' me! You don't know how bad it gets!"
>"Oh dear."
"She can't remember exactly how the colors go on her little shit, so she pulls up the show on the TV and pauses it at just the right time -"
>"That's clever of her."
"- AND THEN RUNS BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE GARAGE AND THE LIVING ROOM!"
>"Oh. Oh dear, I think I see -"
"See, she dipped *my toothbrush* in the paint -"
>"She couldn't find any regular brushes?"
"- fucking ran back to the living room, splattering paint the whole fucking way -"
>"I was afraid of that."
"- globbed what little's left onto the toy and ran the fuck back to repeat the process! She got paint all over the carpet, paint on the walls, and paint on *herself*!"
>"Well..." Celestia sighs, "did her toy at least turn out nicely?"
"NO! It was a total fucking mess!"
>"That's a shame."
"Seriously, I've had it up to here with her stupidity! I'm knew buying her was a bad decision, but now I'm really fucking regretting it."
>Sunbutt sighs and reaches over the counter to touch you in what's probably supposed to be a reassuring or calming manner, but makes you want to run screaming for HR and/or an adult.
>"You're under a lot of stress right now, but it'll be okay. Sam will have a wonderful time at school -"
"I'm not stressed about Sam."
>"Yes, you are."
"NOPE. I DON'T CARE ABOUT HER. LALALALALALALALALALALALA."
>You're pretty sure you hear Tia the Terrible utter one of Fluttershy's weebwords as she rolls her eyes and then -
>POKE.
"Hey! That's assault!
>"- and I'm sure Fluttershy will have everything cleaned up by the time you get home."
"If not, I'll fucking kick her out - but you'd probably laserdeath me with your headwand."
>"That's a possibility."
"Might be worth it."
>JAB.
>OW.
"Fine, how about I take away all her toys."
>"For how long?"
"For..."
>You think about it.
".... ever?"
>Yep, seems appropriate.
>She rolls her eyes again and doesn't even *try* to hide it.
>Not that she can, what with having eyes about as big as a fucking dinner plate, but she could at least *try*.
>"Why don't you spank her while you're at it."
"Wait. I can fucking do that?"
>The thought had crossed your mind, but you hadn't thought it would actually work. But if the horsey queen says to try...
>"What!? No! I was only -"
"Sweet, maybe that'll straighten her out!"
>Yeah! Maybe it will!
>That's a great idea!
>Why didn't you ever think of spanking her before?
>"WAIT! ANON -"
>OH. RIGHT.
>You're so excited that you're out the door before you realize you forgot to buy any booze.
>Meh.
>Not like you're out of anything.
"WHATEVER IT IS, I'LL PICK IT UP TOMORROW! THANKS FOR THE HELP, SUNBUTT!"

Part 2: In which that bitch suffers.
>There's this fuckawful ringing in your ears half the walk home.
>Then you set your phone to silent.
>Coincidentally the ringing stops.
>Huh. Weird how shit works out like that sometimes.
>You would ponder the Mystery of the Phantom Ringing and what - if any - connection it had to your phone, but as much as you love a good puzzle you've got other things on your mind right now.
>Like... so... this is Princess sanctioned, so...
>You're going to spank the shit out of Fluttershy.
>But not literally.
>She's already made enough of a mess today.
>AND THE HOUSE BETTER BE SPOTLESS.
>OH FUCK, WHAT IF IT IS?
>What if she scrubbed the carpet so fucking hard there's no carpet left?
>SHE'D FUCKING DO IT, CRAZY-ASS MARE.
>But if this works...
>You allow this bizarre fantasy to play out in your mind for a minute.
>Of coming home to a house not full of insane ponies.
>No 48 hour anime marathons every weekend.
>You could actually watch what *you* wanted to watch. Or nothing at all if that's what you wanted.
>If Flutterbutt stepped out of line...
>All you'd have to do is raise your hand and she'd know.
>Oh SHE'D FUCKING KNOW, ALL RIGHT.
>No more fucking paint splattered every-fucking-where. No, if you told her to wait, she'd fucking *wait*.
>Actually, fuck *that*.
>No letting her whine until you gave in and bought her new toys or paint or whatever.
>No getting dragged into every sushi restaurant Flutterweeb sees because you know she'll be heartbroken if you don't.
>Fuck, why stop there?
>If this works, dinner ready at 6 every night. Homecooked, and not by you.
>HAHA, YES!
>AND WHY STOP *THERE*!?
>No more fighting with Sam to take a bath!
>Yes, you *would* spank a filly and no one could stop you.
>NO ONE!
>So what if you don't own her?
>It's for her own good!

Part 3: YET MORE SUFFERING! SUFFERING OF GRIMDERP PROPORTIONS!
>No pony shall be beyond your rule, no pony shall be beyond your wrath!
>No fighting with Berry over the last shot of whatever!
>You will be unstoppable!
>Harsh, but fair!
>Kind, yet just!
>Yes!
>Their butts will glow with the awesome power of your hand!
>The power to make your ponies know their place!
>Or at least stop being little shits all the fucking time.
>Fucking hell how the fuck did that little fucker even fucking fuckity fuck.
>Okay time to turn the corner.
>Corner turned.
>Fantasy resumed.
>They would cower at your feet and act as proper slaves should!
>Except Sam. She's not your slave. More like... a squatter you invited in and haven't kicked out yet.
>But she's a kid.
>It's okay to spank kids.
>Unless they're not yours. That's a quick ticket to the Pound Town Express with a new roommate named Tony "Assfucker" McRapespedos.
>And Sam isn't exactly yours.
>Neither is she human.
>Sooooooo...
>Hmm.
>Problems.
>You think about it.
>Not for very long.
>The answer is obvious.
>You'll have Spankershy do it.
>She would.
>There's no need for the king to sully his own hands.
>And by 'king' you mean you, and by 'his' you mean your.
>And by 'hands' you mean hands.
>Using a paddle or something seems going too far.
>Though you suppose Buttergulp will have to use her hooves on account of not having hands.
>Sounds like a problem for her and Sam.
>Yes.
>This all makes sense.
>Everything will be glorious.
>And your place is right ahead.
>Two more houses.
>One.
>Just the walk up.
>Aaaaaaaaaaand the... dammit, you should have gotten the key out on the way, okay, door unlocked. Through. Slammed.
"FLUTTERSHY! EVERYTHING BETTER BE CLEAN!"
>There's a teakettle whine from the livingroom, so you're guessing either she fucked up something else so bad you're going to have to move out or she didn't finish cleaning up the paint.
>To be fair, you're not being fair.
>You knew all along you're going to have to paint over that corner she hit, there's no way that was going to come off and the green you were going to use to repaint the railing on the patio - one day! soon! - really clashes with the existing close-but-not-quite-white of the kitchen.
>One of those fucking off-whites, eggshell whites, whatever.
>Kinda like the Irish. White but not *actually* white.
>And the carpet... well... you don't know how effective that YouTube guide Berry pulled up will be.
>BUT IT BETTER BE SPOTLESS.
>So you go in, ready to start spanking without warning if she's watching anime again or trying to fix her model instead of cleaning up the paint.
>After all, you have a princess's permission. *Her* princess's, not that it really matters.
>You think she was hers.
>How many of the stabby flappy fucks did they have again?
>Three? Four?
>Meh.
>You KICK OPEN THE DOOR.
>Actually there's no door - not between the entryway and living room - but you walk into the livingroom like you had and - and -
>Yep.
>There's anime playing.
"Fucking shit."
>You throw the keys on the table in front of Worst Pony - and your phone, too.
>Don't need either of them digging into your thigh when you put her on your lap for Punishment Times.
>She's supposed to be the one hurting, not you.
>Besides, it gets her attention.
>Fluttershy looks up from the spot on the carpet and the whine gets shriller until suddenly you don't hear anything anymore.
>You bet the neighborhood dogs are flipping their shit.
"You didn't even hear me come in, did you?"
>She shakes her head.
>"I did!" Berry calls from the kitchen. "Feeling better?"
"FUCK NO."
>"Why don't you - hold on."
>Yep.
>You can do that.
>Fluttershy's not going anywhere.
>A moment later, Berry comes 'round that now-green corner. There's - you *hope* - flour dusted across her face and a pair of beers in her mouth.
>You *really* hope that's flour.
>Supporting a cokepony would get expensive.
>You don't even know where to get any.
>Though that doesn't seem to be a problem with the amount of powder liberally sprinkinged all over her.
>Good. Berry can buy her own coke.
>She sets the bottles down on the coffee table - oh, hey, that's clean at least!
>"I was making a cake for Sam," Best Pony explains without you having to ask.
>Yes!
>It's only flour!
>Double yes!
>There's cake!
"Good, good, but..."
>You do your best to downplay your cake-spawned excitement.
"... why the fucking shit is she watching anime instead of cleaning?"
>"Because it wasn't coming out of the carpet so I sat her down and told her to watch one of her stupid cartoons before she scrubbed a hole in the floor."
>Flushedshy nods. Still whining wordlessly.
>You assume.
>Still can't hear it. Not really. But it's *there* and it *bugs* you.
>Best Mare takes a seat at the edge of the sofa and pops the lid off her beer.
>"She really tried," Berry adds. "That should count for something."
>It's a fair enough statement. Between that, your general apathy, and this beer in your - oh, hey, why is your beer half gone?
>Well, putting the Riddle of the Vanishing Hooch aside for now, there's a temptation to let it go.
>Flapperpants' fuckups, not the missing beer. You'll be looking into that personally later.
>Maybe it's hiding in a different bottle.
>You could sit down on your favorite sofa (except you're already doing that), put your feet up (maybe on Floopflop's head, though you haven't gone that far yet), and drink until it's time for cake or to pick up Sam, whichever comes first.
>Picking up Sam seems more likely.
>Berry will probably glass you if you try to get to the cake first.
>Might even be why she got the bottles out in the first place.
>Prevenge time?
>Nah.
>You're a patient man. You can wait.
>And Fluttershy... well... you're also a forgiving man...
>"We're gonna have to call in a professional."
"Okay, Flufferpuff, I know you did your best -"
>The whining gets a little quieter.
>Not that you could hear it anyway.
>"I looked up some places. Want me to -"
"Yeah, go ahead. But Floofproof -"
>She's looking up at you with the please-be-nice-I'm-cute look.
>Doesn't work. You've been living with ponies too long.
>You put your now empty bottle on her forehead.
>Heh, you made a unicorn.
"Like I was saying, you did your best, but you still fucked up."
>"Hey Anon, you've got... holy shit, Ethel has been wardialing your phone."
"What?"
>"Wardialing."
"How the fuck did you even learn that term?"
>Berry shrugs.
>You wave a hand.
"I'll call her back later."
>"Hey, it's ringing again."
"After I deal with Shufflefut. She fucked up and -"
>"Hi, this is -"
>You look at your new unicorn.
>Wait. She has wings.
>Pegastabber?
"- I'm afraid you have to be punished. Luckily, the -"
>"PRINCESS!?"
"I was gonna say Hooch Hut Helper, Berry, but yes, the princess - I guess - gave me a suggestion."
>"YOU TOLD HIM WHAT!?"
"Fluttershy, I'm gonna have to spank you."
>"W-what!?
>"Anon! You -"
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"
>Berry shoves your phone at you and... okaaaaaaaaaaay?
>You hang up the call for her.
>It's hard for her to work the screen with her hooves, but surely she should have been able to manage that.
>She was able to fucking *answer* the fucking thing, after all, so -
>"No! The princess wanted to talk to you!"
"Oh."
>SHRUG.
"I'll thank her again later. So, anyway. Fluttershy, get up here."
>You pat your lap.
"It's spanking time."
>BEQL
>(Big Eyes, Quivering Lip)
>Luttershyf puts a hoof on your leg and - and -
>"C-ca-capital punishme-ment?" she sobs.
"What."
>"I'm I'm I'm sorry," Utterfailure cries. "Please please anything please anything but please don't I pleaseI'm sorry I'msosorryI didn't -"
>You grab her muzzle like a fucking croc.
"Berry -"
>Maybe she's finally broken?
>Maybe?
"- explain this bullshit."
>"Anon!" she -
>POKE
>FUCK
>RIGHT IN THE MANNIPPLE.
>OW
>FUCK
>"- that's what the princess was trying to tell you!"
"Oh. Uh..."
>Okay.
>Um...
"Oh, she thinks this is going to be some kind of kinky thing? Well, I'm capable of being perfectly adult about the whole situation and, no, wait, I mean -"
>POKE!
>"Spanking is reserved for capital crimes like treason and... and... I don't know! *Capital* crimes!"
>What.
"What."
>What?
>You look at one pony. Then the other. Then... Sam's at school. She wouldn't know anyway, being Earth-born and all.
>Stupid filly.
>So back to the first pony.
"Okay. Seriously. What?"
>"It's *capital* punishment, Anon!" Berry whines. "The princess was being sarcastic!"
>wot
>You shake your head.
>That doesn't help.
>It's still full of wut.
>Okay.
>Compartmentalize, compartmentalize... and... 
>Okay.
>Goddamn.
>Fucking Care Bears.
>You let go of Letterjacket's mouth and... yep.
>Stand up.
"Fuck it."
>"What?" Worst Pony whimpers.
"I'm going out again."
>"Where?" Berry demands. "We've got to pick up Sam in two hours, so -"
"Just picking up a spray bottle instead. Unless...?"
>"Nah," she grunts and gives you her best imitation of a thumbs up. "That's fine."
"Cool. Cool."
>But seriously.
>wat

DRINK 4.5: IS THE GLASS HALF FULL OR HALF EMPTY?
Subtitle - does it really matter when the glass is full of piss?
Subsubtitle - anyway, shit that happened a few somethings ago
Subsubsubtitle - not today, anyway, but sometime before Anon learned that spanking is capital punishment and Sam had her first day of school
>"Hurry up!" Sam whines and stomps her tiny little filly hoovsies.
"Goddammit, I'm fucking working on it!"
>KICK.
"Fuck you, Berry, I'm *trying*! She's the one making this hard!"
>You'd slap the shit out of Glittershit to make her HOLD THE FUCK STILL, but that would probably MAKE THINGS WORSE.
>LITTLE FILLY KICK.
>BUT NOT YOU.
>"Owwwwwwww," Butterbricks whines.
>Fucking DE-SERVED!
>And Berry subtly sticks her hoof down on Otakuweeb's tail.
>Team effort, yeah!
>"Try it now."
>TOO FUCKING LATE, YOU'RE ALREADY ON TOP OF THAT SHIT LIKE FLAPPERFLY ON BOY LOVE.
>"Noooooooooo!" she wails as you buckle the last strap.
>"Waaaaaaait! Waaaaaaaaait, I'll do anything!" she pleads as you put the fasten the final clasp.
>"Pleeeeeeeeease! Stop! Berry! Make him stoo-oo-oooooo-oooooooooooooop!"
>Feeble yellow hooves flail at you as you put the little robo-booties on.
"Fucking shit, Yellowpaste. This seriously isn't a big fucking deal!"
>"It issssssssssssssssss!"
"A Gundam is a fucking Gundam!"
>"But I wanted to be Wing Gundaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam! Not Gundam Barbatos!"
"It's the only Gundam costume I could find for ponies!"
>"But I wanted to be Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiing Gundaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam!"
>You push her back - gently, of course - and look Sam square in her little eyes.
"I swear, if you ever throw a tantrum like this, I. Will. Punish. You."
>"Why!? What about Fluttershy? Aren't you going to punish *her*?"
"She's too stupid to know better, so she gets a pass."

>Two lollipops (each, because you're not about to reward Bad Pony for throwing a tantrum and by comparison punish Good Filly for not) later and Fluttercry's tears have stopped.
>Good thing you waited until the two ponies were all ready before putting on your own costume.
>It would have been an absolute fucking mess.
>You straighten your suit one final time.
>Shit, this feels weird.
>Well.
>Fuck it.
>Too late to change your mind.
>You walk out to the living room and - and the kiddos must be too excited to sit still.
>They ain't here.
>With any luck, Flattershy ran outside and got her face signed by her hero Truck-kun.
"You sure you'll be fine on your own, Berry?"
>"Sure," Best Pony chuckles as she leans back on the sofa with the Halloween candy settled on her belly and a margeritta next to her -
"Hey! If you're staying here to hand out the candy, you *better* be handing out the candy!"
>"I will."
"Doesn't fucking -"
>Ow.
>Tootsie Roll to the face.
"- look like it. I'll just have to stay here and -"
>"You know we can't send Fluttershy and Sam out there alone."
"I trust Sam."
>"She's a little filly!"
>Point.
>There's some real sickos out there. Some creeper would probably want to kidnap her to use as a pillow or something.
"Fine. Fuck it. You could go with them."
>"Leash laws, remember?" Berry shrugs. "I'm not a free pony."
>CLEVER BITCH.
>BUT NOT CLEVER ENOUGH!
"Sam's free. She could hold your leash."
>"There's no time make me a costume."
>FUCKITY SHIT!
"You could always go as a serial killer."
>HA! GOT HER NOW!
"They look just like everyone else, after all."
>"If I was human, sure, but a pony?" Berry laughs. "No one would believe it."
>She falls silent suddenly and sits upright.
>"No one, Anon," she says in a deep voice that makes your gribbly bits tingle. "No one at all."
"OKAY, I'M FUCKING GOING!"
>You straighten your tie and fuck -
>"What are you supposed to be anyway?"
"Slenderman."
>"Isn't Slenderman supposed to... like..."
>She waves a hoof in a circle in front of her face.
>"... be totally black?"
"Fuck you, this was the only zentai suit that was still in stock."
>"You could have dressed up as something else."
"I wanted something that would hide my face. I'd rather not folks recognize me when I've got a little filly dressed up as a psychotic pedo burnward dreamworld murderer."
>Berry shrugs.
>"Your fault for letting her watch those movies."
> - off. You fuck off.
>You're not going to admit she's right.
>Because she's not!
>You fell asleep!
>A Gundam and the worlds most adorable Freddy Krueger are waiting for you by the front door, little pumpkin candy basket thingies held tight in their mouths.
>You grab the Gundam's leash.
>Fucked up how tiniest murderhorse doesn't have a leash.
>Something about that seems backwards, but at the same time...
>You trust the filly not to wander off if someone offers her candy out of their van. The *other*, on the other hand...
>Maybe not candy, but if they waved some pocky or cup noodles in her face, you'd never see her again.
>That thought's less tempting than you expected.
"Let's get going."
>Harder done than said, what with them both crowding the door and making it impossible for you to open on account of it opening *inward*.
>You finally resign yourself to losing a pony to squishing and jerk it open.
>That gets them to scoot back quick enough aaaaaaaaaaaand you're out.
>Jesus, fuck. The sun is still up.
>Well yeah, obviously. It's little kid trick-or-treating time.
>Because you've been saddled with a pair of toddlers.
>And that's just unfair.
>They're the ponies.
>*They* should wear the saddles!
>If only they were big enough...
>But you know the saying.
>If wishes were horses, we'd all be eating steak.
>You sigh and pull Putterpooper outside.
"Now keep in mind this *is* a pony-friendly neighborhood -"
>i.e. you're not the only one around who owns ponies and you haven't heard about anyone abusing theirs
"- but I expect you both to be on your *best* behavior."
>There's a miniature chorus of affirmative noises.
>Miniscule, really.
>Can two even be a chorus?
>Okay, a *duet* of affirmative noises.
"I mean it, Fluttershy. No bitching they're giving out normal candy, got it?"
>She waggles her head.
"And Sam - no scaring people."
>She sticks her tongue out and makes a playful swipe at your leg with her claw hoof thing.
>Fucking hell, who thought this was an appropriate costume to make and sell for foals?
>THEY HAVE NO SELF CONTROL.
"Go, go!"
>You swipe back with your foot and urge her to head out.
"Go left, we'll -"
>"We'll circle the block then cross the street and go back around the other way!"
"Sounds like you have a plan."
>And that means less work for you!
>Kinda.
>At least you don't have to think.
>Filly Krueger trots down to the sidewalk and things get started.
>Your neighbors' light is off, so -
"No, Sam. Keep going."
>"Huh?"
"Their light is off."
>"So? Why would it be on? The sun is still up!"
"That means they aren't giving out candy."
>"THEY CAN DO THAT!?"
"Yeah."
>"TV lied to me."
"Well, that's how it is. I think they said they were going to a party."
>That's right. You interact with your neighbors!
>Sometimes.
>Usually without the police having to get involved.
>Okay, that's never happened, but only because the folks that live on either side of you are pretty chill. They don't seem to mind a pegasus randomly crashing through their yards screaming about missing her shows.
"Go on to the next house, Sam. Their light is on."
>You get five steps when a dead weight stops you in your tracks.
"Something wrong, Flavoraide?"
>"I- I- I-"
"What?"
>You turn around to see the shakiest Gundam since <that dude> got <that thing> done to him.
>She's staring across the street at another group of trick-or-treaters.
>You casually wave to the parents.
>Never hurts to be polite.
>It's what separates you from civilized folk, after all.
"What's wrong, Buttersquash?"
>"I forgot I hate Nightmare Night. It's so scary! See, there's a skeleton and a witch and a -"
"The fuck is Nightmare Night? This is Halloween."
>"Oh," she blinks. "Okay."
>That solves that, you guess.
>She gets up and canters after Sam.
"Remember what to say?"
>"Rawr?"
>The first haul is a pair of mini Twix, a small, inauspicious start.
>You have to wonder if it's because they're ponies, that maybe this neighborhood isn't as pony-friendly as you thought - after all, you seem to be the only dumbass taking yours around - but after a few more houses it starts to pile up.
>At that point you have to rethink things.
>Because how the fuck is that fair, you don't get any candy?
>Fucking human-hating neighbors.
>Well, it's okay. You're candied out from work.
>Soooooo much defective Halloween candy.
>No, really.
>You haven't had to "defect" any out for over a month - and it's not because work has gotten any less stressful.
>Seems every case has had at least one busted bag.
>So it's okay.
>Really.
>You're not bitter.
>Certainly not.
>This isn't any kind of bizarro reverse speciesism or age discrimination.
>NO! THAT WOULD BE SILLY!
>HAHAHAHA.
>"Would you like something too?"
>Oh, hey. A candy bowl offered to *you*.
>GENOCIDE AVERTED.
"Thanks!"
>You run into your first pony between here and the next house.
>Not quite literally, but only because years of retail have honed your reflexes to superhuman levels.
>Those poor fucks who never master their dodging skills never survive the holiday slam.
>"Oh, sorry!" she says and bows her head. "I didn't see you there."
"It's okay, you've got your hands - uh, hooves - full."
>You step aside for the poor mare.
>She's got a little kid sitting on her back, dressed up as a cowboy or something.
>So they *can* be ridden!
>You should buy a bigger pony.
>Or maybe borrow.
>Ethel probably isn't doing anything with her pony today.
>But to late.
>And you'd have to give her back.
>And riding a pony to the kitchen to get your beer, while less work than walking there, is still more than telling the pony to go get it herself.
>Now that you think about it, people who ride ponies are chumps.
>Unless it's a fetish for them or something.
>Or part of a costume.
>You aren't going to assume a SINGLE GODDAMN THING about a child riding a pony because NOPE.
>So onward to the next house - which you and Fruttelshyu reach as the door opens for Sam.
>Yep, she didn't wait for you.
>Which you should probably yell at her about - but later.
>"Trick or treat!" she yells out enthusiastically to the be-fanged teal stabhorse on the other side of the threshold.
>"Oh!" the mare gasps in exaggerated horror and hides behind her traditional red-and-black Dracula cape. "What are you supposed to be?"
>"I'm Freddy! Rawr!"
>Sam follows it up with a little swing of her plastic claw.
>"Oh!" the mare giggles. "Adorable!"
>"I'm scary!"
>"You sure are! And what are... you?"
>Wobblecoy meeeeps and hides behind your legs.
"I know she's a bit old, but -"
>"Not at all," your neighbor giggles. "Back in Equestria, Nightmare Night was for everypony, regardless of age!"
>"But it's not Nightmare Night," your cock whispers. "It's Halloween."
>Probably your cock. Either that or the pony sticking her nose out from between your legs.
>"Close enough. Want some candy?"
>"Yes, please."
>Oh thank the stars. It was the pony.
>You have to go a little splayed for her to fit her candy bucket between your legs, but there doesn't seem to be any other option short of her not being an absolute pain in your everything.
"Sorry. I guess she can be a scaredy cat at times. Did not know that."
>"Oh?" the strange pony chuckles. "I thought she was yours, since you're holding her leash and all."
"Yeah, but normally she doesn't really do anything besides watch anime and she never seems scared with that."
>"Why would she be?"
"Because she watches some really messed up -"
>"I'm going to the next house!" Sam interrupts.
>Little shit.
"Nope, hold on! Don't you -"
>Shiiiiit.
"Sorry, I've got to run. Happy Halloween!"
>"You too!"
>Good little filly waits for you before running off to the next house - and you have to chase her there.
>GRUMBLE.
>At least you're almost halfway done. It's the last corner house before you head back to your place - and then across the street to do the same on the other side.
>Next few houses have their lights off, which leads to some more grumbling - from *her* - and the one after that you hit at the same time as another group of kids.
>Five of varying ages, ranging from I-dunno-but-pretty-young to maaaaaaaaaaaaybe-in-high-school?
>You don't know.
>None of them are old enough to drink anyhow.
>Know that for DAMN sure.
>And a woman who *is*.
>"Look mommy," little kid #3 screams, "that pony is a Transformer."
>"I’M NOT A BUCKING TRANSFORMER," your dick barks.
>Oh, nope. Flusherpie again.
>You jerk hard on her leash before she can say anything else.
>It's no choke chain, but it does the job.
"Sorry, she has this thing about people confusing western animation and anime."
>"BUT ANON! I'M NOT -"
"Here, eat some of your candy."
>You shove her face down into her pail.
"Sorry again. If you go by my house, tell the pony there you get double. Other side of the block, green door.
>Shit, you *think* yours is the only house on that side with a green door.
>Well, if not, someone's going to get a fun surprise.
>Oh, and by "other side of the block", you meant the other end.
>Thaaaaaaaaaaaat's probably going to confuse them.
>Not your problem.
>"Trick or Treat!" the little goblins (and one filly) (and one brain-damaged mare) shout as the door opens.
>Ensue the traditional oooohing and aaaaahing and mock fright and implied egg-and-tp based extortion.
>Unfortunately the group is heading the same way you are, but luckily you pull ahead because fuck listening to other peoples' kids be obnoxious.
>Good thing about trick-or-treating with two retards is they move faster than five.
>Soon they're far behind.
>By the time you reach your house, you can't even hear them anymore.
>PRAISE FUCK.
>Also, your front door is more of a blue-green type of color.
>ANYWAY
"Ready to stop?"
>"Nooooooooooooooooooo!"
>You can't even pretend to be surprised.
>"We have to do the other side of the street now!"
"I remember, but I thought you might be tired."
>LITTLE FILLY HEADSHAKING SO VIGOROUS HER HAT IS DISLODGED.
"Okay, okay. I get it. Don't give yourself a concussion. Fluttershy, you good to keep - what the fuck."
>She's got her candy pail's handle caught on one of her mask's spikes, the end result being her muzzle is shoved into the bucket like it's a shitting feed bag.
>"M'fi. Lezgo."
>She starts to head across the street, but what the fuck.
"How long has she been doing that?"
>"Since she yelled at that boy and you shoved her face in it," Sam explains. "I think it got stuck."
"Oh."
>Huh.
"Well, she seems happy."
>She can see over it - her head isn't *that* far in - and there's a few inches of open space for people to drop candy, so...
>Doesn't seem like a bad idea, really.
>Except how is she unwrapping the candy?
>You can hear crunching sounds from inside the pail, so she's OBVIOUSLY eating, but...
>Berry is a smart (enough) pony and has a hard time unwrapping candy with her hooves, let alone without.
>Fluttershy is... not.
>Huuuuuuh.
>You *hope* she's bothering to unwrap it.
>If she clogs the toilet with candy wrappers, you'll just make her unplug it.
>That seems reasonable, right?
>Fuck yeah.
>Well, fucking onward and so forth.
>You lead your little troop of pillagers across the street - after reminding Sam to look both ways because you don't think Animal Control responds to squished ponies - and begin looting the far side of the street.
>It's right about this time you notice that the sun is starting to go down - and about fucking time, too.
>After some of the things you've heard about Princess Burnybuns, you're going to have to have some fucking words with her.
>Maybe she can make the sun go down a little quicker next year.
>Make Halloween spooky like it should be.
>You can only just now see the... silhouette...? *reverse* silhouette...? SEE THE JACK-O-LANTERNS LIT UP PROPER AND SHIT.
>There's some older kids out now - and... at the end of the street? is that? seriously?
>Some kid with a whole fucking herd of foals.
>NONE OF THEM ON LEASHES YOU'D LIKE TO ADD.
>Makes you feel better about yourself for obeying the local laws and regulations like a sheep.
>You... yeah, you're not getting mixed up in that.
>You steer Sam the other way.
>Knowing your luck, she'd get lost in there and you'd wind up with some other filly.
>Berry would have your fucking head.
>She doesn't seem to mind.
>That makes you feel a little bad. Little fillies probably need to socialize with other little fillies for their own wellbeing, but for yours you keep her going and circle around the block.
>Meet a few more ponies handing out candy for their owners - and some you think are free.
>But how do you find out for sure?
>HEY PONY GOT YOUR PAPERS?
>Yeah, no.
>It's no business of yours.
>Also run into a few ponies walking with children.
>Huuuuh.
>By the time you're back around to your house again, you've seen more ponies than you knew existed.
>Forget pony-friendly neighborhood - you're wondering if half of your neighbors *are* ponies, free or otherwise.
>Huuuuuuuh.
>Well.
>That's interesting.
>"What are you stopping for!?" Sam whines.
"See that there?"
>"What?"
"Our house."
>"So?"
"It's right across the street."
>"And?"
"We've done an entire lap, both sides of the street. Time to go home."
>"But -!"
>Nope.
>You're not arguing with a filly, particularly one who looks like she's going to fall asleep.
>You pick her up.
>It's hard to argue with someone when they're dangling you three feet in the air.
>Hoooooooooooooooly shit, she's heavy.
>Oh, wait, at least half of that is candy.
>Fuuuuuuck that's a lot of candy.
>Definitely time to call it a night.
"Well, maybe you're not tired, Fluttershy is."
>"Noamhaught."
"I mean she's missing her shows."
>"AHMIZZENMASHOS!"
>She flaps her wings and dashes out as far as her little leash allows.
"See? Time to go home."
>She looks doubtful.
>Hmm.
"I'll turn off the light and you two can split what's left in the bowl at home."
>"Oooookaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay."

DRINK 5: SAM'S EXCITING AS FUCK ADVENTURES IN PUBLIC EDUCATION
Subtitle - a gentle reminder that this happened after Sam went trick-or-treating and approximately concurrently with Anon finding out that spanking is considered capital punishment after Fluttershy splattered paint everyfuckingwhere trying to paint a Gunpla
subsubtitle - that fucking weebhorse, holy fuck

>This is new! And exciting!
>And maybe a little bit scary.
>But you aren't really *scared*, exactly.
>More like nervous.
>Yeah.
>That's it.
>You've never done this before, so of course you're nervous!
>Anyone would be nervous!
>Especially since people keep looking at you.
>Totally not like when you were living on your own.
>It was like no one could see you then.
>Now it feels like the whole world is staring.
>"Sam?"
"What!?"
>Your voice squeaks a little.
>"Looking forward to your first day of school?"
>Well, *yes*, but...
"Did we *really* have to do that?"
>"Do what?"
"You know, the thing with the... the papers!"
>"The guardianship," Berry says.
>Oh, yeah. That's what they called it.
>They were *your* papers!
>And now *he* has them!
>"School wouldn't let you in without a legal guardian, Sam," Anon sighs. "We didn't have a choice."
"But they're *my* papers."
>"I know, I know. I'm just holding on to them. As far as I'm concerned, you're some tiny horsegoblin that lives in my house and eats my food, nothing more."
>"It's temporary, Sam," Berry says and pats you like you're a little filly!
>But you're not a little filly!
>You're going to school!
"Hey! Stop that!"
>You've lived just fine without anyone to look after you!
>"Yeah Berry, stop that. It's my turn."
"Stoooooooop!"
>"Make me. I'm you're guardia-"
>Anon makes his face look all weird until Berry takes her hoof off his foot.
>"Come along, you two," Berry says while Anon does what he likes to call his "try not to swear so Berry doesn't hit him again" face.
>He should come up with a shorter name for it.
>Besides, you don't get what the big deal is!
>It's nothing you haven't heard before.
>Sometimes Berry is a little weird.
>Okay, she's always weird.
>But sometimes, you wonder what your life would have been like if she had been your mother.
>Sometimes you don't have to wonder.
>Anon stumbles after Berry - he has to, either that or let go of her leash.
>You still can't believe she puts up with that.
>If she didn't whine about having to wear a leash so often, you'd think she *enjoyed* it!
>You rush after them.
>It's your first day of school! You can't be late.
>But you still don't know why Fluttershy gave you a piece of toast or what you're supposed to do with it.
>All she said is you can't be late!
>It can't be your lunch, because Berry packed that this morning. Can't be breakfast, because that's what you were eating while Berry packed your lunch.
>So you had put it in your backpack.
>What were you supposed to do, run down the street with it hanging out of your mouth?
>That's stupid. *Obviously* you'd have to put it in your backpack.
>But why?
>Is it for the teacher?
>No, that would be weird.
>School can't be weird.
>Anyway, it's all smushed up between your notebooks.
>But what if you *are* supposed to give it to the teacher?
>It's probably ruined now!
>"Sam, what's wrong?" Berry asks. "Did you forget something?"
"No! Everything is fine!"
>"Did you need to go to the bathroom...?"
"No!"
>You can't ask them about the toast or they'll think you don't know anything!

>"I'm sorry, but we don't let unauthorized visitors beyond this point."
>You don't think you like this lady.
>She looks mean.
>"It's Sam's first day," Anon explains calmly.
>Too calmly.
>Something's up.
>He's up to something.
>Your little filly senses are tingling.
>"We just wanted to show her to her classroom," he continues, "and then we'll leave."
>"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."
>What a bitch!
>(That's right, you know swears! And Berry can't stop you from using them in your head!)
>"She doesn't even know where it is."
>The lady sighs and shakes her head slightly.
>She hasn't even looked at you!
>"What room number is it?"
>"It's... um..."
>"She's in SL02," Berry answers for him - and the lady's face changes immediately.
>"Oh!"
>She leans over hear desk a bit and looks down at you.
>"Oh, right, the new filly. I'm sorry," she says sweetly. "It's alright if you accompany her there, but please don't take too long."
>She reaches for something under the desk and hands two - twooooo...
>"Here are your visitor passes."
>Yeah, two visitor passes!
>She hands them to Anon.
>"Please keep them visible at all times."
>"Uh... thanks. Here you go, Berry."
>"Wait, where am I supposed to put this?"
>"It just clips on to... uh... yeah. Where *are* you going to put it?"
>The lady sighs.
>What a *cunt*!
>"Most owners clip the tag to their pony's collar."
>"Oh, right. Collar. Yep. She's totally wearing one."
>Anon fiddles with - oh, she *is* wearing a collar.
>You've just kind of stopped noticing.
>Even though the leash bothers you, you never seem to notice her collar.
>Neither does she.
>Berry doesn't even act like she *likes* it, not like some of the ponies you see on TV before she catches you and changes the channel.
>No, hers is just kinda... *there*.
>That doesn't stop her from sighing as he fumbles to clip the pass to the collar, or stop you from bouncing from hoof to hoof.
>Fluttershy was *very* insistent that you can't be late today!
>You have to introduce yourself and talk about your hobbies - do you even have any hobbies?
>Is watching TV a hobby?
>And how the shit are you supposed to know your blood type?
>Well, it's red. But isn't it *all* red?
>"Okay, Sam, this way."
>You follow Anon to the left, down a hallway - wait, why are most of the kids going the other way?
>And why are none of them ponies?
>You thought there were other ponies here.
>He *said* there were.
>Anon doesn't seem to notice.
>He's very firmly *not* looking at any of the other children, just like he told Fluttershy.
>Even if they *are* legal in Japan, which Fluttershy said they were.
>Anon said she was wrong, but who are you going to believe?
>The guy that *loves* to tell people they're wrong, even when they're not, or the pony that watches so many cartoons about Japan that she probably knows everything there is to know?
>Though she is wrong pretty often...
>Huh.
>Well, He's not looking, but Berry is.
>"I don't like this," she whispers to Anon, but since he's so much taller than her she has to whisper pretty loud and you can hear it. "Those kids look like they're the same age as Sam, but -"
>"She hasn't had any education," Anon answers. "We went over this."
>He stops and looks back to you and smiles.
>He might be trying to look reassuring, but it's not.
>It's creepy when he smiles.
>Not because of any real reason really, but because he usually only does it when someone is getting hurt.
>"Sam, we had to enroll you in remedial classes because -"
"What's that?"
>"Right, right," he mumbles. "Basically... you need to catch up to the other kids your age."
"Sounds easy. You're always telling me how stupid everyone else is, so it can't be *that* hard."
>"See Berry? It's fine. She'll catch up and then can move into one of the regular classes."
>"I just thought... well, okay."
>So... that's fine.
>Okay, so you'll have to introduce yourself twice, but that means if you mess up the first time it's okay!
>Yeah!

Author's aside, because writing this story like a normal story kind of fucking hurts, but Sam isn't nihilistic or drunk enough to write in the usual style:
Sam's hooves make the adorablest little clippity clop sound as she scampers down the hallway.
Do you know how fucking hard it was to not use the word 'scamper' up until now? Pretty fucking hard, I tell you what, but there's no way it would be in Sam's internal monologue because she's a child and doesn't know words like that.
And if you think I'm wrong, go the fuck out and buy a filly right fucking now and see how many words *it* knows. Probably a lot fucking less than Sam.

>Anon is giggling to himself for some weird reason.
>He does that sometimes.
>"Okay, Sam, it's this classroom just ahead, on the right."
"Why is it so far away from the others?"
>Anon stops on the spot and looks back the way you came.
>Then to - oh, she looks nice?
>Is she the teacher?
>She's waving from the doorway.
>That's nice.
>Probably a trick.
>"Sam," Anon says, "it's like maybe forty fu-"
>He winces.
>You can guess why.
>"- fourty feet from - from what is that now? Reception? Back in my day, we just went into the school and went to class and everything was fine. None of this 'visitor pass' bu-uuuuuh..."
>"Everything's fine, Sam," Berry says with a smile.
>Her smiles aren't creepy.
>The teacher - you think she has to be - walks up while Anon is being a dick and not answering your question, and reaches out to shake his hand.
>He looks confused by that, but eventually shakes her hand.
>"You must be Sam's parents."
>"Legal guardian," Anon says back, "and legal guardian's legal sla-"
>There's the "try not to swear" face again.
>"Yes," Berry answers, "we are."
>"That's great! So nice to meet you!"
>There's definitely something wrong with her.
>People aren't that nice unless they're trying to get something from you - or get back at you, but you haven't *done* anything, so it can't be that, right?
>She kneels down beside you and there's definitely something wrong.
>The kind of wrong where she's going to say she has candy in her van.
>You've never met any of those people, but you've *heard* about them!
>And Anon has warned you enough times 
>"Hi, Sam! I'm Miss Yelsman, and I'm going to be your teacher."
///If this text is still here, I forgot to attach a "how to talk to short people" image, probably the one with Typhus holding up a Fire Warrior to he can better talk to him about Grandfather Nurgle.
"Do you... um... do you have any candy?"
>"I'm afraid not," she smiles, "We don't allow candy in our school."
>"That's - nice," Anon says, but he's clearly lying.
"What about a van?"
>"I drive a Prius, Sam."
>"What a load of -"
"Then -"
>You look at Berry, who just looks like she doesn't understand.
>Anon looks like he's in pain.
>Well... okay.
"Then I guess you're okay."
>"Oh, *candy van*! I get -"
>"Anon!"
>"Right, right."
>The teacher, Miss... um... something, gives them that awkward smile that means she doesn't understand and probably doesn't want to understand.
>But Anon gives you a nod.
>"It's fine, Sam. No Stranger Danger. I repeat, no Stranger Danger."
>"Uh..."
"Okay."
>"... um... why don't you come this way," Miss Whatever says, waving to the classroom. "Your... uh... parents will be back to pick you up later."
>Well, if Anon says it's safe, it probably is, and it's not like you *need* them around to protect you.
>You lived on your own for... you're not sure how long, but you can look after yourself!
"Can I sit in the... uh..."
>What did Fluttershy say?
"... um... desk second from the back? Near a window?"
>"We don't have individual desks."
>Ooooooh, that's fine.
>They have blocks.
>Blocks are better.

>School sucks.

>"What the fuck did you put on her horn!?"
>"Mr -
>"Seriously, what the fuck is this!?"
>"- please don't use that kind of language!"
>"I CAN COMPLY, BUT I DOUBT YOU'LL LIKE -"
>"Anon, stop," Berry says. "Give her a chance to explain."
>You try to pull it off again, but it's stuck!
>"It's a simple putty," Miss Bitch says, just like she said to you when she put it on! "It'll loosen with hot water, but I expect her to be wearing it when she comes tomorrow."
>"WHY."
>"Because her horn is a risk."
>"What? What!?"
>He turns to you and today has been shitty enough that you glare right back.
>"Did you do something with your magic?"
"No!"
>"No," Miss Bitch says too, though she's still a bitch! "A unicorn's horn is pointy."
>"Aaaaand?"
>"Someone could have gotten hurt?"
>"Sam, did you try to stab a kid with your facesword?"
"No!"
>"Did a kid try to jump on your head and impale himself on your headstabber?"
"It's not my fault!"
>"Luckily no one was hurt," Miss Bitch says, "but it *could* have happened. Please make sure she has the putty on tomorrow before class."
>"Wait, so if no one was hurt, and she's not trying to hurt someone, then -"
>"It's policy."
>"It's a stupid policy. Do you require the other kids to wear mittens so they don't poke out each others eyes?"
>"Some of them, yes, if it's necessary."
>"What the fuck."
>"And on that note, please make sure she brings an appropriate lunch tomorrow."
>You still don't understand what was wrong with it.
>"What's wrong with the lunch I made?" Berry asks, trying as hard as she can not to sound angry.
>"Well, oh," Miss Bitch gasps and reaches into the pocket of her skirt. She pulls out some of Fluttershy's chopsticks and hands them to Anon. "These. One of the children could have been hurt."
>"By... chopsticks?" Anon grunts. "Seriou - well, okay, I can *kinda* see that, but are they really more dangerous than a pencil. Besides -"
>He and Berry share a look.
>"I'll talk to Fluttershy," he says. "I'm guessing she made a bento and didn't tell us. Probably swapped lunches when we weren't looking."
>"Did you at least get something to eat?" Berry asks and you nod.
"I had to use a plastic spoon."
>"Good," Berry smiles and hugs you tighter, "but what about -"
>"Yeah, and what about all the paint!? I already have a shitstorm to clean up at home thanks to Fluttershy, and now this!? Sam's supposed to be boring and brown, not - not - abstract art."
>"Some of the other students were uncomfortable with such a plain colored pony. Ponies are supposed to be brightly colored, you know. You shouldn't dye her fur."
"I told you, it's not dyed!"
>Miss Bitch smiles politely and ignores you.
>Bitch.
>"It's not dyed," Anon says. "That's her normal color."
>She shakes her head.
>"I know you want her to fit in, but in this school, we encourage our students to be themselves. The other pony student in the class is teal and emerald green, and the ones in the other are -"
>"But Sam's fucking *brown*."
>"Then maybe you should dye her fur."
>"What the fuck," Anon growls and waves a hand in front of Miss Bitch's face. "Wait. Let me see if this checks out. She's supposed to be herself, which is varying shades of drab brown, but since that's not what ponies are supposed to look like she has to celebrate her individuality by dying herself artificial colors -"
>"I'm not recommending that. You shouldn't let a child play with chemicals. Either you or your - uh -"
>She looks at Berry for a bit and shrugs.
>"One of you should do it for her," she says, because she thinks you're too retarded.
>"So she can be herself."
>"Yes."
>"And because she was herself, you... what? Let the class paint her?"
>"Exactly."
>"I need someone smarter than you to explain this bullshit in a way that makes sense."
>"Sir, the comfort of our students comes first and she was making them uncomfortable!"
>"They couldn't put up with it for - and let's pretend I was going to go along with dying her at all - for one fucking day!?"
>"No."
>"What."
>"It was agitating some of the students, sir, and I *must* insist you watch your language or I'll have to have you escorted off campus!"
>"Agitating...?"
>"They couldn't focus on their studies at all! I had to put one in the time out room -"
>"You have a time out room? What the hell?"
>"- yes, in case they become aggressive and might be a danger to themselves or -"
>"This sounds like a padded room. *Is* this a padded room?"
>"We call it the time out room, sir. Please use that term."
>Anon looks at a total loss for words.
>That's a first.
>But you understand.
>You didn't say anything either.
>It was all so... so different from what you expected.
>You'd sat there and tried not to cause trouble.
>Looks like that didn't work.
>"Wait..." Anon mumbles "... is this... is this fucking *special ed*?"
>"We don't -"
>"I was told it was remedial classes," he yells at her, "not fucking special ed!"
>"We don't -"
>"No, I don't care that you don't use that fucking term, Sam is *not* short bus material!"
>"Sir -!"
>"Go fuck yourself, we're out."

>Fluttershy meets you with a smile - and that lasts about as long as it takes her to take her eyes off the TV.
>You were expecting some kind of stupid Japanese thing, but no.
>She manages to be normal for once.
>"Sweet Celestia, what happened!?"
>Almost normal.
>"Things... didn't go well," Berry answers.
>That's bullshit.
"It was *horrible*! I never want to go back!"
>"You won't," Anon says. "I'll call tomorrow and cancel your registration. We'll have to find another school that'll -"
"No! I'm not going back! Ever!"
>"It's okay, Sam," Berry says and hugs you again. "Anon and I will make sure the next -"
"I said no!"
>"You should ask the Princess!" Fluttershy says. "I already asked her and she said no but you *always* have to ask sensei twice, because he - or she - will turn you down the first -"
>Anon grabs her by the face and holds her mouth shut.
>"Stop talking before I stop thinking that's a better idea than it probably is in reality."
>Fluttershy nods and he lets go.
>She sinks down into her spot on the sofa and unpauses her cartoon.
>Happy Japanese music fills the silence.
>You're all thinking about it - except Fluttershy.
>It might be better. You *want* to learn, but -
>"I don't... I'm not sure," Berry interrupts your thoughts and shakes her head. "She should go to a normal school and be with children her age."
"No!"
>You don't know what you want, but you know you don't want *that*.
"Kids my age are assholes!"
>"She's right, Berry," Anon agrees with you. "Most people are, but children in particular."
>"But I want her to have a normal childhood."
>"She's a free pony in a world where ponies are - for the most part - treated as pets or slaves. She has *us* for surrogate parents. She's lived on the street."
"No, I stayed in the park."
>"Correction: she's lived in a park," Anon continues, giving you a nod to show he heard you. "And most importantly, she's *met* Fluttershy. Berry, I don't think normal was ever a possibility for her.
>"We looked for the best school, thought we did our research, and... well... do you *really* want to have Sam go through that again?"
>You shake your head.
>"No," Berry sighs. "But -"
>"Can we afford one of the private schools for ponies?"
>"Not even if we give up drinking and sell Fluttershy."
>A yellow head pops up over the edge of the sofa.
>"Huh?"
>Anon pushes her down.
>"Go back to your shows."
>"Kay."
>"From the little I know of her," Anon sighs, "I don't think the stabacorn will want to - she seems pretty happy with no responsibilities - but hell, we can ask. Even if it's just until we find another school and have a chance to check it out properly."
>"Anon, I don't -"
>"It's either this or we homeschool her, and that'd mean doing it after work, or one of us quitting. I don't trust Fluttershy to -"
>"Hmm?"
>"Go back to your show."
>"Kay."
>Yeah, you don't think she could teach you anything you couldn't learn yourself by watching TV.
>"So is it going to be you or me, Berry? Because if we're voting, I say me. Well, I *would* say me, except I get paid so much more than you do, and I'd have to walk you to work anyway, and -"
>"Okay, okay," Berry says with a frown.
"Don't *I* get a say in this?"
>It's a fair question.
>Do you?
>He has your papers.
>Well, whatever. If you don't like it, you can run away.
>Berry hugs you again.
>"Yes, Sam," she says quietly, "what do you want to do?"
"I'm not going back to school!"
>"Would you let Princess Celestia tutor you?"
"Maaaaaybe."
>"She can also teach you how to use your magic."
>Huh.
"And... um..."
>"What is it, Sam?"
"Will she tell me what I'm supposed to do with the toast?"

DRINK 6: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
>"Hey..."
>You put down the bag of kitty litter and turn around to face your valued coworker.
>Sure, you *could* have ignored him, but what good is hating someone if you don't get to look them in the face and let them know?
"What now, Isaac?"
>"Soooo... I spilled this dog food?"
"And?"
>"Should I, um, sweep it up?"
"Yes. Yes, you should sweep it up."
>"And then... what do I do with it...?"
"Throw the food in the trash and take the bag to customer service to be defected."
>"So just like... in the trash?"
"Yes, throw the dog food in the trash."
>"And what do I do with the bag? Do I throw it away too?"
>You think you may touch racist now, for just a little bit.
>Sometimes there's too much anger for one target.
>You'll pick an ethnicity to hate later.

>"Hi Anon, I brought pizza!"
"That's kinda your job. And you're late."
>The pink mare shrugs, making her jacket go all weird for a bit.
>If you didn't know better - or more accurately if you gave a shit - you'd think she had wings.
>But naaaaaah. Unicorn.
>You can tell.
>She's got a horn.
>Dead fucking giveaway.
>"Sorry," she says, "the kirin in the oven was too chill and we couldn't get her lit. I think one of the cooks let her take a hit of whatever he's on. Anyway, the day manager didn't have a replacement ready and we couldn't cook anything until we found another and... well... everything's been pretty backed up."
"Uh...huh."
>"This is the third time you've ordered delivery this week," she says and magics the glorious food out of the keepy-hotty bag. "And it's only Tuesday. If I didn't know better, I'd think you're just happy to see me."
"Of course I am. You bring the pizza. Pizza makes me happy. Therefore you make me happy, in a roundabout ancillary way."
>She snorts and rolls her eyes.
>"You know what I mean. Is something up?"
>You shrug and count out the money.
>"You look like shit."
"It's been one of those weeks. Days. Months. Weeks."
>"You already said 'weeks', Anon."
"Yeah, but it's been more than one."
>"I - uh - okay. Pretty stressful, I assume?"
"Yep."
>"Maybe you should get yourself a girlfriend."
>You... uh...
>Okay, she floats the money out of your hand.
>Good, because the only options you saw were shoving it in her mouth or down the front of her jacket.
>Both of those seemed slightly rude.
"What would a girlfriend accomplish?"
>"Stress relief?"
"Fuck that, I've got slaves."
>"Sexy slaves?"
>You shrug.
>"Instead of that, I could set you up with someone."
>Does pizzahorse wiggle her eyebrows suggestively?
>Thaaaaaaat's a maybe.
"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."
>"Are you sure? It always helps to have a significant other to talk to and share -"
>SHRUG HARDER
"Like I said, I've got slaves. If I ever need to take out stress, I... well..."
>MANIACAL LAUGHTER
>"You wouldn't!"
"Take away her fuckin' Gundams? Fuck yeah, I would. And no one - god or man or pony - can stop me. Or I could... y'know... make them wait to eat their pizza."
>"Oh, right! Sorry!"
"Nah, this is good."
>You're probably smiling.
"I paused the show at an exciting bit and I bet she's going absolutely crazy right now."
>Now there's definitely some eyebrow action going on, but it's less suggestive and more worried and/or confused.
>"Anyone ever tell you that you're weird?"
>SHRUG HARDEST
"Probably. See you tomorrow, Candy."
>It's most likely a bad thing that you know your pizza delivery mare by name.
>Anyway, if that conversation seemed uncharacteristically polite, it's because you've had a bitch of a day and are all hated out.
>Hold up, let you tell yourself about that:
>- or -
>You could eat pizza instead of thinking about work some more. Off the clock.
>Hmm.
>As enjoyable as it is to be absofuckinglutely depressed, you're not quite sure it has the same draw as pizza.
>No, definitely not.
>Pizza wins.

"No, Isaac. No. Just... stop."
>You can't facepalm hard enough for this without it being lethal.
>Fluttershy - and it's weird to call her by her actual name, but she's wearing her name badge so you kinda owe it to her - *rolls her eyes*.
>"Really, I don't mind doing it," she says, all sickly sweet and shit. "Let me take care of those for you."
>"Um... but..."
"It's fine, Isaac. She'll do it for you."
>"Um... okay. What should I do?"
"Why don't you..."
>Fuck my shit up even harder?
>Nah.
"See those returns over there?"
>You point to a pile of crap that goes *elsewhere*.
"Why don't you do the take-backs?"
>He gives you the same stupid, vacant, fucked-brainless-yet-somehow-his-mouth-is-closed hentai face he's managed all day.
>"Aren't I... um... supposed to be helping you reset the pets department...?"
"It's okay. Those are more important."
>Fluttershy nods eagerly.
>It'll help her out, after all.
>"Oh. Should I... get a cart?"
"Yes. You should get a cart."
>"Um..."
"Go get a cart first."
>"Oh, okay. Uh -"
"Try the front stockroom."
>"Um -"
>You point.
>"Okay. I'll... be right back."
>You wait a bit, but he manages to walk off in the right direction.
>For the most part.
>At least until he's out of your view.
>After that, you don't know. Or particularly care.
>"Anon...?"
"Yes, Fluttershy?"
>"He's not going to make his 90 day review, is he?"
"He's been here for two years."
>"Really?" she murmurs. "Why haven't I seen him before?"
"It took that long for them to finally kick him out of electronics."
>"Oh. Oh, dear. I'll pray for him."
"Pray?"
>Did pony suddenly find religion and not tell you?
>"To Truck-kun."
>Ah. That makes...
>Well, it *does* make more sense, but not at all.
"Huh?"
>"Truck-kun," Fluttershy repeats.
>Now you're no weeb, but you *do* have a passing knowledge of weebshit and a vague familiarity with Truck-kun.
>As a concept, of course.
>You fail to see how a truck or bus or car or whatever that comes out of nowhere at unexpected moments to run people over in anime and manga has any relation to anything else that ever has or will come to pass.
>Except, of course, weebshit.
"Truck-kun. Really. Care to explain this crap to me?"
>"I made a shrine to him in the corner of the living room!"
"That pile of crap?"
>"It's a *shrine*."
"It's an old Hot Wheels toy, pages torn out of your manga - and no, I'm not buying you replacements - and dirty dishes you can't be bothered to take back to the kitchen.
"I left them there because I wanted to see how long it took you to take care of your shit."
>You may or may not have a wager with Berry about it.
>"It's a *shrine* and those are *offerings*."
>HUH?
>"You know, you leave offerings to the kami so they help you? I couldn't find any five yen coins, but we had rice and beer, so -"
"Oh shit, those little bowls were there intentionally?"
>Fluttershy nods.
>"He accepts my offerings," she says, "so I like to believe that customers that have *wronged* me get run over."
>Wow.
>Okay.
>That's dark. From her.
"That's fuckin' dark, Flutters."
>"Oh, don't worry!" she chirps. "I asked HR and they said it wasn't a violation of the violence free workplace policy!"
"Uh... huh. Okaaaaaay. Well, I've got some bad news."
>"If you tell me Truck-kun isn't real, I'll cry."
"Well, okay, but. Fluttershy, Berry has been drinking Truck-kun's beer."
>TINY PONY OUTRAGE
>"What about the rice! Truck-kun takes the rice! I know he does! Maybe he doesn't take the beer because he doesn't want to drive drunk, but the rice -"
"Sam. Hobofilly doesn't mind floorfood."
>Fluttershy's face starts to look definitely unFluttershyish.
>"If they're going to take Truck-kun's offerings, they better learn how to drive."

>"Wow, fourth day in a row."
"I said I'd see you today."
>"And I didn't think you really meant it. That's just something people say."
"Did you bring my damn pizza, Candy?"
>"Yes, Anon. I brought pizza. I also brought a salad. This isn't healthy."
"Do I pay you to bring me pizza or do I pay you to care about my health?"
>"You really need to get a girlfriend. Really, I know lots of nice mares - or women. Whichever you feel like."
"What if I'm gay?"
>"You're not."
"How do you know?"
>"I can tell."
"Can you tell me how much I'm going to tip you?"
>"Yeah, about $20, because I paid for that salad myself."
"Damn. Just because you're right about that doesn't mean you're right about the other shit."

"Wait, wait, so we're not evacuating?"
>Berry shakes her head.
"But -"
>"I know what James said," she growls, "but Aaron is at the front door telling everyone to get back to work.
"But -"
>You point up.
>Not straight up.
>No, you're not standing directly under it.
>You're not an absolute retard.
>"What?"
"Gas leak."
>"I know."
>BOY IT SURE IS GREAT THEY LET ANY HUMAN USE THE FORKLIFT, ISN'T IT?
>And you surely didn't need that heating unit, right?
>Berry shrugs.
>You shrug.
"If there's an explosion or we asphyxiate, at least we'll die how we lived. Being fucking miserable at work."

>"This rice is crunchy!"
"It's not cooked, Sam."
>"I think I like it better this way!"
"Stop eating shit off the floor."
>"It's not on the floor! It's in a bowl!"
"Fluttershy is going to murder you for her god."
>"She'll never know."
"You're going to ruin your appetite."
>"I'm getting tired of pizza."
>Oh hell, how could you be so wrong?
>Looks like little filly belongs in special ed after all.
>Absolute fucking short bus material right there.
"At least stop eating off the floor."
>"Okay," she mumbles through a mouthful of rice.
"Put it on the -"
>DING
>FUCKING
>DONG
"Pizza time!"
>Better be pizza time.
>If Candy shows up with Chinese or something, you're gonna... [half-assed vague internal threat].
>At least Fluttershy would get to use her chopsticks - if she can figure out how to use them.
>Not Sam, though. Never Sam.
>If she sticks those things in her nose ONE MORE TIME, you're going to die of a heart attack.
>Maybe her pony name should be Short Bus.
>"Seriously, Anon," Candy launches in before you even get the door all the way open, "I know some good mares you can buy who love to cook. Cheap, too."
"Sam doesn't need a babysitter."
>"For *you*."
"I don't need a babysitter either."
>No, you've long since grown out of that particular fantasy.
>"For you to... you know. Plus homecooked meals ready for you every day when you get back from work?"
"I prefer a drink or a shower first thing when I get home. Sometimes both. One to wash the memories of work away or the other to wash the stink of work away, whichever is worse."
>And yet you still fucking smell like cardboard and road dust.
>Probably need to start buying one of those fancy scented women's bodywashes. Sure, you'd smell like a little bitch, but you wouldn't smell like retail.
>"Okay, okay, so you don't want another slave. How about a free pony? It'll be a little bit harder, since you *can* be abrasive, but true love is better than a mare who has to pretend to love you whether she really does or not. And -"
"No thanks. Full up on free ponies right now. I don't think I could handle another."
>"Uhm... okay. Then there's this lovely woman I know. Mercedes. She has a similar sense of humor to yours -"
"Sounds like an absolute bitch."
>"You've never met her!"
"But if her sense of humor is like mine, she's got to be, right?"
>Candy makes her best Fluttershy-after-you-told-her-someone-is-desecrating-her-shrine impersonation, followed by a deep breath in, a sigh, and a shake of her head.
>"Then perhaps something more casual?"
"Whores?"
>"There's no money changing hooves."
"Oh. Sluts."
>"Not exactly. There are -"
"Pizza?"
>"Why do you keep calling me if you don't want my help?"
"Pizza. Your place is at the top on my contact list as Emergency Pizza."
>"At least tell me you're masturbating regularly. It's not good to hold that -"
"I can't tell you that. I don't want to be hit with - oh, shit, that term just totally blanked out out of my head - but fuck no. I'm not going to jail."
>"For *what*?"
"It's not discrimination... fuck, why is that popping up in my head? No, no, no, not even - ah! Harassment! Nope, not going to jail for sexual harassment."
>"But I asked *you*."
"Women can't sexually harass men. Not sure about ponies, but I'm not going to risk it."
>Another sigh.
>It's so unfair.
>You're occupied silently lamenting societal inequality WHEN BANG CRASH from inside happens.
>TURN, SEE, SCREAM
"SAM, IF YOU DON'T GET THOSE OUT OF YOUR NOSE RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD I DON'T BELIEVE IN AND SOME THAT I MIGHT - thanks, Berry."
>One of these days, she's going to run straight into a wall with those and you still haven't found out if dead ponies go into the trash or compost.
>OKAY, MONEY FOR PIZZA TIME.
>"Everything okay?" Pizzapony asks, trying to peer around you like a snoopy little snooper.
"Yeah, everything's fine. I just have an idiot filly waiting for food."
>She snorts.
>Almost a laugh.
>You don't know why.
>Dumbass suicidal Short Bus is no laughing matter.
>"Am I going to see you again tomorrow?"
"I sure as hell hope not. I'm off tomorrow, so it should be calmer. Hell, Berry and I are taking Sam to the park to pick up people."
>"Huh...?"
"We've got a bet going. Okay, *I've* got a bet going, she doesn't exactly know about it or she'd stop me and probably kick me, but women love fillies, right?"
>"O-oh! You're using a filly to pick up women? Like a dog? That's... okay, I can see that. Men can use babies or animals to do that, and you're using both in one go, so -"
"Know who else loves fillies?"
>"Who?"
"Pedophiles. I want to see which I can reel in first."
>"Oh."
"I've also got a side bet going with myself. I want to see if Berry kills them, or just cripples them."
>"The pedophiles?"
"Or the women. Whichever."
>"Oh," Candy grunts. "Ah! Okay."
>She flashes a happy looking smile your way.
>Damn, she's good. She even makes it look like she's genuinely happy.
>Must be the thought of others suffering.
>"See you around, Anon. Enjoy those pizzas."

DRINK 7: PRINCESS SUNBUTT'S SOLO STUDENT SCHOOL
SUBTITLE: Remember that chapter where Sam and Fluttershy went trick-or-treating and that supposedly happened before Sam started school? Nevermind. That was wrong. That happened later, after all this. Not that it matters.

"No."
>"But -"
"No."
>"Why -"
"Because no."
>"But Fluttershy -"
>You raise an eyebrow.
>"Oh," Sam whines, "I get it now."
"Exactly."
>Stupid Butterpone.
>"But I still want to know about the toast."
"Just eat the damn toast. We've got plenty of time before we have to leave."
>She looks doubtfully at the bread, but shoves the entire slice into her mouth when you reach for it.
>Heh.
>You're so clever.
>Try to take it away and of course she'll down the entire thing!
>Tricking a filly into eating her breakfast is literally child's play to you.
>And... to anyone else.
>Because she's a child.
>It's really not that hard to do.
>But fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that, you're still clever for doing it.
"Got everything packed?"
>She tries to answer - or *does*, but you don't think spraying crumbs everywhere was her intention.
>And even if it was, you don't understand how that relates to the question you posed.
>It's honestly not a very good answer, regardless of the question.
>Kinda ambiguous, at best.
"Berry packed your bag for you last night, right?"
>NODDING FILLY NOISES.
>It's louder than it sounds - than the *narrative description 'NODDING FILLY NOISES* sounds.
>Implies.
>Fuck. Whatever.
>A little filly nodding is really loud when she's crunching toast.
>Like it's some kind of game to crunch in time to the beat of her nodding.
>Damn kids and their ability to find joy and amusement in everything.
"Notebooks, pencils, pens, crayons..."
>Uh... what else?
"... aaaaaaaaaaand..."
>Aren't you running the seasonal school shit at work?
>Shouldn't you fucking know this?
"... the... uuuuuuh..."
>Fuck that, you're off the clock. You can't be expected to remember work shit off the clock.
"... aaaaaaaaall that other crap?"
>MORE NODDING FILLY NOISES.
"Mmmmmmmkay then. We'll leave as soon as Berry gets ready for work."
>HAH!
>That gets her to stop crunching!
>"But I thought she was off today!" the little filly sprays.
>SHIT.
>More crumbs.
>EVERYWHERE.
>Whatever. You'll make Fluttershy clean it up.
>You shake your head.
"Nope, her time off request was denied. Berry's got to go to work today."
>"But what about you?"
"Oh, well, *mine* was approved. And then they gave me a few extra days off because... I don't know -"
>Probably thought they were doing you a favor and you meant to use your pony's vacation time for yourself? Maybe? Or more likely just the usual scheduling fuckupery.
"- plus that early weekend last week because SUDDENLY OVERTIME IST VERBODEN means..."
>You pretend to write the math in the air.
"Let's see, carry the five..."
>You nod firmly.
"Yep, eight days off in a row."
>Store is fucked.
>Little filly eyes become the big filly eyes.
>And considering how big little filly eyes normally are, these are very big indeed.
>"Berry is going to *kill* you."
>Yeah, you're fucked too.
>Then again -
"Sweet. If she does, then I get *all* the days off."
>Beneath that gruff, alcoholic exterior, past the maudlin depression coating and the dead-on-the-inside layer, down to where it *really* counts, you knew Berry liked you.
>Truly best pony.
>Not at all like the little butterball curled up on your sofa.
>It's five fucking thirty in the fucking morning!
>There have to be better times to watch... whatever the fuck she's watching.
>Something about cannibalistic rape angels and the immortal women they cannibalistically rape.
>Sure, you own it on disc, but the name escapes you.
>At least Berry is too too asleep and tired to yell at her for watching such filth (but honestly, it's really quite tastefully done for what it is) when Sam is around.
>Aaaand there she is, your Berry Punch, stumbling out of the hallway from your bedroom, water still dripping from her tail as she makes her way into the living room.
>Mane is dry though.
>Aaaaaaaaaaaaand you were wrong.
>Well, right.
>She doesn't yell at Fluterpie.
>Just casually walks by the TV and turns it off.
>And flips the sofa.
>Which Fuggerbye happens to be sitting on.
>And so coincidentally by pure random happenstance, she's flipped too.
>Even does a little 360+ and she spins, too shocked to scream.
>There's a little squeak when she lands. And a slightly louder one when the sofa lands upside down on her.
>"Get ready for work," is all Berry says to her.
>Thanks to sofa-related shenanigans, you can't see the butterpony, but you can imagine her sad little eyes.
>"But... but Berry, I'm *off* today"
>And now your coffee table is upside down too.
>Weird how that just keeps happening.
"Coffee, Berry?"
>She glares.
>And then she glares at you.
"Two shots, right?"
>You shake the closest bottle within reach.
>Ewww. Grenadine.
>That can't possible taste good with coffee. Or be particularly unsobering.
"I'll grab some -"
>"No. I'll manage."
"Iiiiiif you say so."
>And by that, you mean you aren't going to argue but yeah, no, she won't.
"Got plenty of emergency chocolate?"
>"I'll find some defectives," Berry squint-slurs out like she's still asleep. Good. Being awake for work sucks. "You wouldn't know, what with *retiring* and all, but we're starting to get in the Halloween shit."
>Aaaaaand that always has a shitton of open packages that somehow magically empty themselves before they can be processed and dumped into the food bank's donation bin.
"Good plan."
>It is, but not as good as shots.
"What about lunch?"
>"Packed Sam's last night."
>"I replaced it with a bentoooooo," Fuggerpugger whines from under your redecorated living room. "I'm *helping*."
>Whoops. There goes the floor lamp. Upside down.
"I'll... I'll put the one you made back, Berry. She can take both."
>Sam smiles.
>Berry nods.
>Fluttershy dies quietly.
"But I meant *your* lunch."
>"Oh, uh..." Berry grunts and shakes her head like that will let her wake up.
>Silly pony.
>Being asleep is best.
>Better to wake up halfway through a shift than show up fully aware of how much your life sucks.
>"... um... defectives."
>That's not -
>Well, it might actually *be* the most healthy option for her.
>Chocolate is good for stress, right?
>Not as good as alcohol, of course, but still...
"Just in case, I can get you a granola bar from the pantry."
>"Thanks."
>You do.
>Does that and the whole putting it into the little backpack you bought Berry a while back really need narration and shit?
>Not really.
>There's nothing particularly funny or heartwarming about it.
>Not even anything tragic, except that the stupid bar tastes like cardboard.
>That's okay. Damn near everything tastes like cardboard at work. Everything except emergency chocolate.
>So why waste something nice when you can't enjoy it?
>And if that's tragedy, then so is your whole life.
>And that's just too sad to think about.
>You also slip some of those nice little chocolate truffles you got on clearance into there too, just in case.
>Can't always rely on defectives.
>You also slip a couple into Sam's backpack when you put back the lunch Berry made her.
>Because... y'know.
>You don't need to justify that to yourself.
>Or narrate it further.
>Shut the fuck up, you.
"C'mon, ponies, let's get this over with."
>There's a whimpering from under your fresh new furniture pile.
>Is it really a pile if there's only two pieces of furniture?
>Well, three. Pony makes a decent ottoman. Okay sidetable at best, but a pretty decent ottoman.
>And three's a pile.
>Plus there's the floor lamp, though it's somehow balanced perfectly upside down and has yet to join what you're from now on going to refer to as The Pile.
>Or possibly THE PILE.
>You'll have to mull it over, in addition to the concept itself.
>Overall not really the best idea Berry's ever had, but perhaps it has some merits.
>You'll have to talk to her about her redecorating ideas later.
>"Excuse me," THE PILE begs your attention.
"What is it, Fluttershy?"
>"Um... w-what about me...?"
"Stay."
>"O-okay."
"Good girl."
>"Does this mean I get pats when you come back...?"
>Silly pony must have hit her head.
>You'll have to check on that.
>Later.

>Adorable as it is, the patented filly shuffle really doesn't cover the ground all that fast.
>Luckily, Sam doesn't seem to object to you picking her up.
>Nor does Berry.
>Not... not picking *up* Berry. Just the filly. But she doesn't object to you picking up Sam.
>They're probably both still too asleep to notice.
>Definitely in Sam's case.
>There's some little pony snoring coming from your arms by the time you reach the liquor store.
>Stupid kids and their ability to... to... sleep anywhere.
>You try not to take any pleasure in waking her up.
"Hey. Sam."
"Sam."
"Hey Sam."
"Wake up."
"Wake up or I'll drop you."
"Sam -"
>"M'wake."
"Cool, stick out your legs."
"No, no. Straight out. Like you're standing."
>She does.
>All four of them.
>Perfect.
>You turn her around and set her down - right side up, you should add before any little part of your brain thinks you did otherwise and starts the chucklemotor unnecessarily - and -
>Right. Shit. Locked.
>The door doesn't open because it's locked.
>Of course the Hooch Hut is locked.
>Well.
>You knock...?
>Ah. That works.
>There's a flash of movement.
>You can see Sunnybuns through the barred windows.
>She looks... nervous?
>Why?
>She knew you were coming.
>Did you get the day wrong?
>No, you're off today. That means it's the right day.
>Unless you're not actually off and got the day wrong.
>Shit.
>Well.
>BELIEVE IN YOURSELF!
>NO ONE ELSE WILL!
>You knock again.
>Or try to.
>The door opens ahead of your hand.
>Bitch.
>You would be unreasonably pissed, but you use a little trick you've learned from a decade of retail and turn your brain OFF.

Click goes the switch.

>"You're *huge*," the little filly gasps.
>"She's saying you're tall, not fat," Anonymous unhelpfully - and unnecessarily - translates.
>You wouldn't mind it so much if it was an honest misunderstanding on his part, if he wasn't so... so *aggressively* hopeless.
>In so, *so* many varied and innumerable ways.
>You dip your head a fraction and stifle an annoyed sigh.
>It takes no effort at all, but the mere act of stifling it is a release in itself.
>You and your petty acts of stress relief.
>Luna would laugh if she knew, and you would laugh as well. Politely.
>Centuries of politics and diplomacy have served you well in the world of retail and alcohol peddling.
"I understood she meant no insult."
>"Not that there's anything wrong with plump ponies," he continues. "*Fat* ponies, yeah, sure, probably, but I mean... Flubberbutter has gotten nice and soft thanks to all the sitting on her ass she does. She makes a great toss pillow now."
"Please don't toss the little ponies, Anonymous, or I'll be forced to begin ringing you up with the Prefered Customer Discount.
>That silences him.
>*Thankfully*.
>And understandably.
>That little idea was *his* suggestion, after all.
>You dip your head down and kneel slightly, to put your eyes as close to level with the little filly as you can.
>That always seemed to put Twilight Sparkle at ease. Sunset Shimmer, too. And... and the rest. The ones who came before. Lifetimes ago.
"And what is *your* name, little one?"
>"I told you when you agreed to this, stabhorse, she's -"
"*Preferred* Customer Discount, Anonymous... or perhaps you would desire I bump you up to *Platinum*?"
>"SHUTTING UP NOW."
>Your new charge's eyes dart back and forth between you and her guardian.
>Is that a hint of a smile you see?
>Nervousness?
>Yes, of course, but there's something else there as well.
"Little one..."
>You smirk as her eyes focus on you once more.
"... it'll annoy him if you tell me."
>"Sam!" she blurts out *eagerly*. Oh, how you do *so* love it when you're right. "My name's Sam! Samantha, but everyone calls me Sam!"
"Oh. Oh dear."
>You shake your head sadly.
"I'm afraid that just won't do. We'll have to come up with a proper name for you."
>Sadly nothing has come to mind before now.
>Perhaps once you get to know the filly better.
>"Now hold up there, sunhorse," Anonymous slurs, "that *is* a proper name. I know plenty of people named -"
"Is that Platinum *Elite* I hear?"
>He snaps his legs together and salutes, though with the wrong hand.
>"RESUMING SHUTTING UP, SIR!"
>He thinks he's clever, doesn't he?
"I, of course, mean a proper *pony* name."
>"Um... well, sometimes they call me Burnt Toast...?"
"A *proper* pony name."
>"Oh."
"And Anonymous? I recall hearing that before from Fluttershy, but I'm afraid I didn't quite believe -"
>"SIR, IT WAS ALL FLUTTERSHY'S IDEA, SIR!"
"If tossing dear Fluttershy has given her brain damage..."
>"Sir, she came that way, sir!"
"But... 'Burnt Toast'? You let her do that?"
>"Sir, can you say no to her sad pony dog eyes, sir!?"
>Shrugging is... not *undignified* as such, but unbecoming. It implies either a lack of care or a lack of understanding.
>Neither applies, nor should either *ever* apply.
>Not to you.
>You give the man a slight dip of your head instead.
"I suppose not."
>You step aside and beckon the child inside with a sweep of your wing.
"Are you ready to begin your lessons, my little pony?"
>She nods with the vigor of youth and -
"No, not you, Anonymous."
>He tries to push aside the wing you had raised to block his path, with little success.
>Superior human strength, your glorious royal ass.
>"Well, yeah," Anonymous whines, "but I figured while I was here, I could grab a couple bottles of -"
"No."
>"But -"
"Very well. I'll begin filling out your Uranium Black Executive Membership card."
>"SIR, FUCKING OFF NOW, SIR!"

Aaaaand the lights turn back on in your brain. Because

>FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK THAT.
>You're not paying the jackass "discount".
>More like asshole tax.
>Besides, what's that fucking wing of hers made of?
>Fucking tri-laminated composite Titaniumite?
>Still, you try to push it down.
"Hey, Sam. Sam. Samantha!"
>HAH. SUPERIOR HUMAN STRENGTH TRIUMPHS.
>ABOUT... SIX INCHES.
>SIX INCHES OF GLORIOUS HUMAN TRIUMPH.
>Enough for you to see past this STRANGE and WEIRD new ROADBLOCK stopping you from entering YOUR FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WHOLE WORLD that's not ON THE SOFA DRINKING WITH BERRY and look at the filly.
"Hey, Sam!"
>"What?"
"I'll be back at three to pick you up."
>"Okay."
"And Sam?"
>"What?"
"Have fun at school."
>"I'll try."
"Oh, and Sam?"
>"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?"
"If any of the teachers or kids are mean to you and try to paint you or stick shit on your horn, it's okay to bite them. I'll totally have your back."
>Murderhorse snorts.
>You totally don't fucking shiver.
>YOU'RE A MAN, GODDAMMIT.
>A *HUMAN* MAN.
>"Unobtainium Ultraviolet Ultra Membership?" she whispers.
"It'd totally be worth it if you fuck with Sam."
>You kinda whispered that back.
>Kinda.
>Mostly because it totally counts as whispering if no one else heard - ABSOLUTELY, YOU HAVE IT ON GOOD AUTHORITY - and Sam seems a little distracted.
>And probably not because this is her first time in a liquor store and she's trying to choose between all these NEW and EXCITING varieties of alcohol besides the normie-tier Captain Morgan or Malibu or Everclear bullshit.
>"What other kids?" she asks, before your brain can start coming up with an amusing bullshit reasons why she *might* be looking around.
>You're gonna come up with a few anyway. Later.
>Maybe hunting for ninja assassins?
"Well, I mean -"
>"There isn't anypony else," stronkprincess interrupts. That bitch. "It will just be the two of us."
"But it's totally okay to bite her if you have to."
>OHSHIT.
>BUTOKAY - DEOHSHIT.
>That's not angry snorting from swrodpony.
>It's stifled chuckling.
>"I'll try not to make that necessary."
"Good. And... uh... thanks for this, Princess Stabhorse von Sunbutt."
>She turns her head slightly to give you the gentlest smile you've ever -
"I really appreciate -"
>"JUST GO THE FUCK HOME, ANON!" Sam screams. "I WANT TO START SCHOOL!"
>- to give you the most shocked, horrified expression you've ever seen on a pony's face before.
"I swear she didn't learn that from me."
>You fuck right the fuck off before the unipegataur can recover.
>No sense traumatizing fillies by making them watch their KIND and LOVING (only somewhat and *only* in the most appropriate of ways, which is to say pretty negligent but not abusive) adopted father get impaled and/or gutted.
>Right. So.
>Powerwalk away. Powerwalk away.
>Don't look back.
>She's not following.
>Or so you hope all the way home.
>The lack of coconuts clopping after you or a piercing pain in your spine and spinal-adjacent zones seems to confirm it.
>You breath a sigh of relief once you're inside with the door locked.
>Sure, she could probably kick it down. Or deathlaser her way inside.
>But that's fine.
>Princesses can't come inside unless you invite them, right?
>They totally follow vampire rules.
>You're sure of it.
>Particularly now that it's crossed your mind and you can't seem to find any evidence *against* it.
>You've never seen Ethel's spikypone walk outside in the day. Clearly she's trying to avoid the sun.
>Heh, that's ironic, considering her tramp stamps.
>Maybe when you head out to pick up Sam, you'll take some garlic along.
>Or a crucifix.
>Where are you going to find a crucifix?
>Maybe one of Flounderpounder's little trucks will work...?
>Maybe -
>"Help...?"
>Maybe it'll only work if she's still alive to believe in it.
>You saunter CALMLY into the living room.
>After doublechecking the locks, of course.
>Vampire rules or not, it never hurts to be cautious.
"Still trapped?"
>"You told me to stay."
"Right. Okay, help me get this off you."
>She doesn't *really* help you get the sofa off of her and right side up, or the table, but she tries.
>There's not exactly anything she *could* do, what with being *under* them, so you leave it at that.
>She tried.
>And she scoots out of your way when you start pushing stuff back into place.
>Can't really ask for more than -
>Oh wait, sure you can.
"Fluttershy?"
>"Hmm?"
"Get me a beer, would you?"
>"Kay."
>You settle down onto the sofa and - nope, hold on - okay.
>Just needed to be dragged a couple more inches to the left.
>Now the TV is properly slightly off center again. Just perfect for mutual viewing pleasure and the occassional mid-sofa drunken mutual cuddlepile.
>You're contemplating the angle of the coffee table when a little yellow fluffball falls onto the sofa next to you and hands you a beer.
"Thanks, Fluttershy."
>She pushes her cheek up against your thigh and - and fuck.
>Plops her chin on your leg and does warcrimes to you.
>What did you do to deserve sad pony eyes?
>"I stayed like you said. And I brought you a beer," she mumbles. "I get pets now, right?"
"When did you get so cuddly?"
>HARDCORE UNCENSORED PONY SHRUGGING.
"Yeah, okay. Let's just find something decent to watch first."
>"How about what I -"
"Something *decent*."
>"I thought it was good."
"It is, but it's not *decent*."
>SAD PONY EYES.
>"Okaaaaaaay."
>POKE.
"What?"
>"Pats."
"After I find something -"
>POKE.
"After."
>POKE.
>POKE.
>NUDGE.
>POKE.
"What?"
>"Why does it have to be decent? Berry isn't here."
"Yeah, but -"
>"Sam isn't here either."
>You take a sip of your beer and - and - goddamn, those eyes should be illegal.
>"I wanna see how it ends. Berry won't let me watch when she's home."
>Fucking hell.
>Looks like it's a watching borderline snuff porn with a retarded pony kind of day.
"Fair enough."
>"yay"
>softpoke
>"Now pats?"

>"Princess?"
>You shake your head.
"There's no need for that. You can simply call me Celestia. Or Tia, if you wish."
>"Um, okay, but... Celestia?"
"Yes?"
>"Where are we going?"
"To your new classroom."
>Formerly known as the stockroom, until you marked those cases of vodka down *severely*.
"I cleared a space for us to work."
>You strongly doubt that Ethel will ever notice.
>Devils Food Cake vodka? Who would *ever*...?
"I'm afraid I don't have a proper table or seats for us, but..."
>Not that you didn't try, but everything you could lay your hoof on was too tall for your diminutive pupil.
>"I'm used to laying on the ground."
"Right, of course."
>Poor thing.
>She's lucky she was taken in by such a -
> - an *adequate* man.
>You would not call him kind. Or generous. Nor particularly honest. Certainly not humorous. And between those issues, you doubt he has a wealth of friends.
>But loyal?
>Yes, he does seem to be that.
>An adequate person.
>Quite the lucky little filly.
>You gently nudge open the door to the stockroom and try to give her your most reassuring smile.
>She looks less nervous than - than you would, if you let it show.
"Excited for your first day of school, little one?"
>"It isn't my first day," she grumps *adorably*.
>Pouting and everything.
>Perhaps it has been too long since you've shared the company of another pony.
"I heard about that incident... Sam..."
>You really *must* find a proper pony name for her.
"... and it did *not* sound like school to me."
>Certainly not one you would ever condone.
>She looks to argue, but ends with a shrug and shuffles into the stockroom.
>"I *guess* I'm excited. What are you going to teach me?"
"Everything. Math and reading obviously, as well as varying kinds of science, depending on my knowledge of specific topics to teach and your interests.
"Potion making if I can find the supplies, though I cannot guarantee it."
>At the very least a cure for hangovers, if Anonymous continues to care for her properly. A small token of your gratitude for looking after the filly.
"And, of course, how to use your magic."
>There's a small foalish giggle and the filly's horn lights up and - and she is either older than she appears or has talent.
>Most foals would be lucky to generate a simple glow to light up a room or telekinetically control a few small objects.
>And certainly not with the dexterity she shows as a rack of bottles spins off the shelf and twirls slowly overhead.
"Impressive."
>Basking in your praise, she doesn't seem to notice pluck the loose wine bottles from her magical grasp and return them to their place before her attention can waver and the worst happens.
"But why don't we leave those alone for now."
>"I don't need to learn magic," she says, with the proud certainty of a child who has yet to learn that sometimes imagination is outstripped by reality.
"Perhaps not yet, but there is more to what a unicorn can do than simple telekinesis."
>"Oh."
>You smile at her sudden realization.
"So, little one, what would you want to start with? I don't -"
>You grin for her, conspiratorially. With feigned embarrassment.
"- I don't exactly have a lesson plan for you. It's been a long time since I've taken a personal hoof in tutoring another.
"Anonymous couldn't tell me much about your past education and I'd like to see where you're at - and what you're interested in."
>"How about - "
>She spots the pillows you had brought in and flops down on - on the larger of the two.
>Oh well.
>"Do you know about the toast?" she asks suddenly.
"The... *toast*?"
>"Yeah. The toast. Fluttershy said I had to come to school with a piece of toast, but Anon made me eat it."
"Ah. *That* toast. That... will be a lesson for later."
>You'll have to ask Fluttershy.
>Or, more likely, Anonymous.
>You try to give the filly your most mysterious look.
"*Much* later. I'm afraid that's too advanced for you right now."
>"Oh," she grunts. "Okay. Then... I dunno. Whatever."
"Math? Science? Geology?"
>She shrugs.
"Are you interested in rocks? Or perhaps the sky? We could begin with astronomy - or the basics, at least."
>Another shrug.
>"I mean... yeah, but..."
>Yet another.
>Defering to you?
>No, she doesn't seem to be much in awe of your royal self.
>Of course not. From her size - from what you think her age is - this poor creature grew up in this world as it is now.
>Anything she's known of you or the other princesses would be tales handed down her sire and dam, if she even knew them. Or other ponies.
>And, you must admit, poor Fluttershy was probably no help at all in that regard. She seemed quite taken by and obsessed with those human cartoons.
"Then..."
>You settle yourself down onto the other cushion, opposite the makeshift table built of wine cases.
"... do you know where ponies came from?"
>"Equestria!" she answers proudly.
"And what do you know of Equestria?"
>The filly shrugs. As you expected.
"Did your parents tell you anything of it?"
>She shakes her head.
>"No one's ever really told me anything about Equestria."
>As... as expected.
>You sigh. Silently.
"Then, my littlest pony..."
>You lean forward, resting your forelegs on a case of malbec.
"... let us begin your proper education with a history lesson."
>She nods. Not *quite* eagerly, but close enough.
"Have you ever found yourself wondering what happens to the characters when a story ends?"