School Daze

The office was located on the front of the school. It was the first thing that most ponies saw in the morning and the last thing ponies saw at the end of the day. It was a roadway that blocked off the dangerous ideas of nonconformists and anarchists everywhere. I wolfishly grinned as I realized that I embodied everything that the administration tried to smother with their pillows of rules and standardized tests.  When you left the system, you were either a good member of society, dead, or in prison. That was the unspoken rule around here: Conform or die.

I guessed getting it on would throw those plans out the window. I approached the sound of a typewriter click-clacking away and I hated that sound. It never abated from the months of August to May and it was the constant in an equation that shifted from one balancing act to the next. ‘We are just cogs in  the largest machine of all. I’m getting off at this stop and I don’t care what might happen to the other moving parts.’  I always thought the sound was the coming of Head Case or Educational Conduct shedding their soft outer coating of flesh to appear as Changelings. And then the typewriter would stop and I would be carried off to the loony bin.

I had walked as slowly as possible to make sure that the principal would be ready to see me but the receptionist shook her head in a manner that said that he wasn’t ready. I took a seat in a chair. It was hard enough of a cushion to be annoying, but soft enough to mold itself around my plot. I waited for the principal in a nice and calm way. Who should be in the other chair but my father’s business associates, Ponzi Scheme.He was grinning that shit-eating grin that I learned at a young age. He had a bag full of money, probably illegally gained. He was no good as my father, almost worse than the seed planter- to use a pun- and I was ready to crush this rat. My father and him were hunters of the birds. I had only gone on one of my father’s hunting trips. It was a scheme to make a stallion out a filly that would be married off for money or a position.

“Sup?” I grinned, matching his previous smile and he jumped. He nervously shifted knowing all too well about my propensity for violence. He must have heard it from the grapevine or the source. Maybe my father, Mosely Orange, sent him on a mission to learn more about my delinquent behavior.

“Uh, hi Babs.” He looked around for an escape route but I had him trapped in my web. The receptionist was too busy with class lists to care and he was all alone with me. Mosely Orange’s  psychobitch of a daughter. Nothing like her debutante sisters that’s for sure.They hadn’t almost killed the physics teacher in anger. That bastard deserved it.

“Business, huh?” I asked that slimy ball of filth.

“You are correct- but I wouldn’t expect less from the Oranges.” Sweat broke out upon his brow and I knew the stallion was close to breaking point. But I knew to let him go,

Why? Because he wasn’t what I wanted to crush. He was just a slimy businessman that went around ripping ponies off of their hard earned money. But I just described every capitalist banker in Manehattan. What I saw was a old stallion heading towards his twilight and my father standing behind him like the only time I went with my father to the woods. I wanted the grab his shifty face in my hooves throw him on the nearby receptionist’s desk and scare him half to death with the feelings that had twisted my insides into looping trails. The nice happy and friendly camping trip where this seedy creep, my father, and my father’s friends went gallivanting around the woods. My weekend was crushed when I heard the ogres talking about my mother’s sexual prowess,alleged or not, and they terrified me. But I was the one with a pool of blood lingering on my hooves.

‘You and my father and all your cronies are who deserve to be sent to the mental hospital. You are what sent me on this path and you’ll see what I have planned. I’ve known my parentage for two years now and whispers of the servants don’t help. I, the bastard daughter of the Oranges, blame my father for his ideals...’

I sat and remembered my youth.