School Daze

I stopped in the girls bathroom to do my business and see the latest gossip that covered the ways of the quiet room. I thought about Scootaloo and my urge to have a relationship with her. The problem was that she was in a relationship with Sweetie Belle and it wasn’t one of those relationships that pussyfooted around. I caught them screwing in the clubhouse once. They didn’t know cause I hid and watched once I knew what they were doing.

It was something that excited me. This town, even with its rampant stupidity, had the highest rates of female-female relationships in the nation. What? I was bored and I stumbled into Twilight’s library when drunk and horny. I smiled as I thought of Scootaloo, her tail swishing back and forth, sometimes covering her love hole and thought of my tongue lapping at her succulent juices that flowed like the greatest rivers in the world. The thought alone made my mouth water in anticipation. I would miss Scootaloo the most if Head Case and Educational Conduct had any say in the matter. I knew they would throw me in that hellhole of a mental hospital that Ponyville had. I had toured it once on a school field trip and the faces of the convicted ponies were what haunted me the most. They looked as if the soul had lost its luster and they sat in complete placidity.

I tried to flush the toilet as quietly as possible but the sound was like an explosion. The toilet-builders must build these things to make fillies and colts learn about that facet of life called the walk of shame. The toilets made anypony become a nervous wreck because everypony heard the sound from the classrooms and the shuffle in and out of bathrooms was matched in the embarrassed looks that passed like magic current through the crowd of students staring at the door waiting for the victims.

The bathroom door shut and I was in the hall. I wondered why it was silent in the halls. Usually there was stragglers from other classes or, like me, the bathroom explorers that had left a piece of themselves as sacrifice to the gods as penance for their sins. ‘Forgive me mother, for I have sinned...my child I forgive thee of your transgressions, see you next Tuesday.' It was only 9:10 on this beautiful morning that I got it on.

I stormed back in the bathroom, my hoof was ready to write something witty like ‘Princess Celestia is a whore- and so is your mom.’  but my marker snapped and I looked at my work. It was black and huge and it cut through the normal jumble of gossip.

GET IT ON, MOTHERBUCKER!

I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. A scar on my cheek, two dark bags under my eyes because of constant insomnia, cuts and scrapes from the work on the farm, and my normal short cut red hair. “Why, Babs, you are one piece of work.” I hummed tunelessly as I walked to my execution grounds.