The Sandbox.
By ppanon

>You sat on the crappy park bench while reading today’s Equestrian Times. 
>Grayscale graphics explained government subsidized ice cream.
>The only printed text on the page noted that it was being funded with human tax dollars.
>Of course.
>“I dare ya to pee in it!”
>Your ears perk up.
>”You don’t think I will?”
>You turn your attention to the little rainbow shit and her orange cohort staring each other down in the sandbox.
>”I’m gonna do it!” 
>You got up and approached them.
“Do it and you’re dead.” 
>The two fillies turned their heads toward you, wide eyed.
“Pow.”
>Your finger gun discharged while aimed directly at Rainbow Dash’s forehead.
>“That’s cheatin’,” Applejack was quick to defend her friend. 
“I make the rules. No more sandbox. Why don’t you two go play with Fluttershy?”
>“Fine.”
>You watch them bolt off, trotting quickly toward their pink-maned friend who was sitting alone by a tree, just outside of the mulch that enclosed the playground equipment.  
>Fluttershy’s ears perked up as she heard the approaching storm of foals. 
>Your attention turned back toward the sandbox. 
>Sturdy ceder planks served as the enclosure to only the finest Saddle-Arabian sands.
>Thankfully it remained unsoiled, littered only by sad looking sand lumps, a couple of little plastic shovels, and a play bucket.
>You remembered the good times, when only 30% of your pay was garnished to fund park equipment.
>The sandbox had been the first addition to the park that was funded through your hard earned bits and you’ll be damned if anyone pisses in it.


>Back to reading the newspaper.
>You started to hear soft sobbing directly in front of you.
>After lowering the paper, you saw Fluttershy bawling.
>Those fucking shits.
“What did they do to you?”
>“I can’t find Tammy and Phillip!” She cried.
>You didn’t even bother asking who they were. Obviously some squirrels.
>”T-they were flying on top of each other!”
“What?” 
>Birds was your second guess.
>“Then they flew away and now I can’t find them!”
“It’s okay, Fluttershy. Your little bird friends will come back.”
>“Tammy and Phillip are dragonflies.”
>Of course they were.
>You pulled the little pony onto your lap.
>A thumb and an index finger against each ear was the secret to ending filly tears.
>Fluttershy cooed sweetly under your touch.
>You closed your eyes.
>Nothing could break her away from your gentle massage. 
>The sound of a music box jingle started up in the distance.
>Your fluffy pony had suddenly become weightless. 
>You opened your eyes. 
>Fluttershy was now on the edge of the bench, looking towards a blue colt with a faggy paper hat.
>He was hauling a cart behind him.
>An ice cream cart.
>Rainbow Dash and Applejack were already next to him.
>In a blink, they had their teeth clenched against the side of waffle-cone bowls. 
>The two scoops of ice cream were straddled up against their faces while they rushed back to their secret hideout: under the steps that lead up to the slide.
>Fluttershy turns to you with pretty doe eyes.


>You’re by the ice cream cart, cringing as the colt loudly slurped down a blue popsicle. 
>The fur around his mouth was matted with ice cream residue and sprinkles stuck to the hairs.
>Fluttershy was hiding behind your leg, one eye peeking out at colorful drawings of ice cream decorating the cart.
“Did you decide which one you want?”
>She shook her head.
>You looked over the variations of diabetes that the colt had crammed into the cart.
>The huge array of ice cream flavors, toppings, and bins of popsicles defied its tiny outside appearance. Hell there was even room for his abacus. 
>Sugary junk food was all ponies ever ate.
>You had every instinct to stop them whenever they funneled that shit into their bodies.
>There was the time you had talked with a nutritionist.
>She insisted sugar was the healthiest ingredient in existence.
>You didn’t buy it because her office was located inside a candy shop (but you did buy the salt-water taffy).
“Ready now?”
>Fluttershy shook her head.
>It had been at least 5 minutes.
>“Do you like Princess Pops?” The blue colt interjected while he unwrapped a red popsicle. 
>He pointed to a drawing on the side of his cart. 
>It was shaped like a cutesy version of Princess Celestia’s face, dotted with beady black eyes.
>Fluttershy’s eyes lit up. 
“Is that the one you want?”
>She nodded.
>You stand back up.
“Okay, we’ll get the Princess Pop then.”
>“Two bits, please,” The colt said, interrupting his foreplay with the red rocket.
“I thought this shi–stuff was free?”  
>“Two bits off of all ice cream.” 
“So it’s free.”
>“No. Two bits.”
>You take another look at the drawing of the popsicle. It’s marked as costing two bits. 
“It’s free!” 
>“i’s nmrh free!” He chomed down on his popsicle, eyes twitching as he chews it down. 
>He climbed onto his cart, took the abacus in his mouth, then placed it on top of the cart.
>“One,” he slid the first bead on the bottom row to the right side.
>”Two. Three. Four.”
>“Minus one,” He slid one of the beads back to the left.
>“Two. There’s two left, so it costs two bits for the Princess pop.”
“The sign says two bits, bud.”
>“Yes. Two bits for the pop.”
>Fluttershy tugged on your leg and motioned to talk to you.
>Reluctantly you sat down in the grass.
>She whispered into your ear. “We don’t need to get it.”
“Don’t worry.”
>”It’s okay.” Her lip touched your ear.
>You stood back up.
>”I spent all morning redoing the prices,” The colt added as you eyed him again.
>You looked at the sign.
>Everything except for the Princess pop had a zero next to it. 
>Inside your pocket was two bits. All you had left until the end of the week.
>Your salary was three-hundred bits per week–minus 98% in taxes which left six bits for yourself.  
>You pulled your last remaining bits from your pocket and started to hand them over.
>Wait.
>The new ice cream tax.
>99% taxes.
>Shit. 
>You pulled your hand back, thinking of a new plan.
“Between the two of us–”  
>You pointed down to Fluttershy. 
>She cowered away.
“–we want just one princess pop which originally cost four bits, right?”
>”Yes.”
>You grabbed the abacus and pushed four of the lower row’s beads to the right. 
“So. Subtract one. Two, for me. One. Two, for her.” 
>The colt coughed up sticky red spittle onto your face as he saw no beads remained on the right side. 
 

>You brought Fluttershy back to the bench and unwrapped the popsicle for her.
>To no one’s surprise, Popsicle Celestia was born retarded.
>Fluttershy smiled with her foalish stare. 
>“May I have some?”
“Good news, Fluttershy. It’s all for you!”
>You remembered too late that foals were terrible at holding things.
>The popsicle bounced off the edge of the bench.
>You caught it just before it hit the ground.
>Your hand got covered in melted Poplestia.
>Fluttershy kissed the popsicle as you held it up for her.
>She’s a gentle eater.
>You closed your eyes.
>Half the popsicle had already melted down your wrist.
>You sighed.
>Fluttershy’s little tongue tickled your hand.
“Is it yummy?”
>“Mhm.”


>As you gave Fluttershy tummy rubs in her post-popsicle bliss you wondered what the two troublemakers were up to.
>You spotted them.
>They were busy dueling with sticks on the teeter-totter.
>You prayed that they both impale each other.
>”Mister Anon?”
“Yes, Fluttershy?”
>”Can we go feed the ducks?”


>You approached the bird feed dispenser. 
>One bit per turn.
>You engaged your usual routine: pushing the lever, then kicking the damn thing.
>A bunch of feed fell into the catch.
>“Rarity said that’s stealing.” 
>And Rarity’s a dumb cunt. 
“I’ve got a life-time pass for the duck food.”
>“You do?”
“We’ve gotta feed the ducks for the rest of our lives, don’t we?”
>“Yeah!” 
>There must be an evil force resonating off of you. The ducks immediately saw away as you sat down at the edge of the pond.
>“Come here little duckies,” Fluttershy whispered gently.
>Like magic, the ducks turned around toward her.
>You took turns throwing the feed to them.
“Have Rainbow Dash and Applejack been playing nice with you?”
>“Yes.”
>She giggled as a train of baby ducks following their mother joined the fun.
“How come you didn’t play with them today?”
>“I don’t know.”
“Do you think you could have fun with them once the ducks are full?”
>“I like playing with you.”
“We can still play together.”
>“They dared me to pee-pee in the sandbox.”
>You’re going to kill them.
>“Would it be okay?”


>Only for her would you be doing this.
>The shy foal stood nervously in the sandbox, hindquarters facing the paltry “castle” that the two brats had made. 
>You looked over your pristine sandbox with the premium Saddle-Arabian sand one last time.
“FLUTTERSHY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
>You looked down to Fluttershy and nodded. 
>Fluttershy suppressed her giggle, closed her eyes, and started to concentrate.
>It was a long shot.
>Going while someone was around was tough for anyone. 
>Surprisingly, Applejack was the first pony on the scene.
>You saw Fluttershy’s face scrunch tighter. 
>She was shaking. 
>Suddenly there was a loud clunk and a high pitched shriek. 
>Rainbow Dash had appeared on the edge of the sandbox!
>You heard the hollow sound of liquid hitting plastic and turned back towards Fluttershy just in time to see her pale amber stream make contact with the side of a toy bucket.
>She was peeing!
>Her gentle exhale harmonized with the sizzling serenade that danced across the sandbox. Its sputters and splatters left behind darkened sand as fizzy pools were swallowed underneath.
>It hit you.
>Her young scent.
>Pungent, yet redolent. It left you breathless as her chamomile blended with the humidity of the morning breeze.
>The fraction of a smirk on her face sliced into your electric yellow heartbeat while you shakily raised your finger gun at her.
>The plastic shovels beneath gathered small droplets while a shallow well of her pee had gathered in the bottom of the bucket.
>You watched, fully asphyxiated, as Fluttershy’s relief appeared to taper off. 
>She shivered, tingling with goosebumps that forced out a meek mew and a final expulsion of fluid that rained down onto the castle, kicking up sand before the nectar suffused into its walls. 
>“Don’t shoot her!” Applejack yelled.
>“She now owns this land by pee-pee decree!” Rainbow Dash added. 
>Your breath was short. Their high pitched yells hardly registered as you eyed the path of damp fur that ran down Fluttershy’s hind leg. 
“I’m s-sorry Princess Fluttershy, my mistake.”
>Your words had come out in a low mutter. 
>“You did it Fluttershy! He surrendered.” Rainbow Dash said excitedly.
>Fluttershy’s mark had been successful.
>Paper legs carried you back to the bench. 
>Your swatting hand stopped midair. 
>The dragonflies.
>Tammy and Philip had landed on your leg, attached to each other as they teetered on the fabric that lead into to your now empty pocket. 
>In the distance you watched Rainbow Dash and Applejack congratulating her, the pretty filly with the butterfly cutie mark.