My Little Dashie's

**Citizen Weevil

Chapter Three**

Down in Six Points, Part III

Shroud hated P.E.. Apart from a good game of hockey, he utterly hated anything to do with Physical Education. It wasn’t just because he was, by all my means, a nerd, but also because he had the grave misfortune of being a changeling colt.

As a male of his species, he could never hope to grow as big and muscular like the females often did; the only reason the Changeling Kingdom conscripted countless stallions were because they made for good cannon fodder. He couldn’t get anything out of this class other than humiliation and pulled muscles.

The school auditorium/gymnasium was crammed with students from different grades behaving like a horde of zoo animals let out of their cages. The bad weather meant P.E. had been relegated indoors for the day, to the joy of lazy dough balls like Bigmouth, whose most arduous exercise included the trip from his living room to his fridge.

Shroud was sitting on the bottom of the bleachers in his small group of friends, made up of Zamira, Bigmouth and Scruffy; some of the few students who weren't running amok.

Bigmouth finished licking his hooves and the inside of his potato chip bag and let out a long, drawn-out slovenly burp. “... Oh, dudes! I’m totally stuffed.”

Zamira shot him a genuinely surprised look. “That’d be a first. You know Posy’s probably gonna make us climb the obstacle course today.”

He belched again. “So?”

“So you gotta do the flying section, cuz you’re a pegasus!” she snapped, retching and waving away his noxious gas. “And when was the last time you could lift your big butt off the floor?”

“Pfft, I got that covered...” He took something out from under his pigmy wings and showed it to them, smirking confidently. “Check it.”

All three of them stared baffled back and forth from Bigmouth to what was a crumpled-up napkin with quite possibly Equestria’s most pathetic excuse for a fake doctor’s note ever poorly scribbled in green felt-tip.

“You know, Bigmouth, I get you’re stupid, but this is just you showin’ off,” Zamira declared, Shroud only shaking his head unimpressed. “There’s no way Posy’s gonna fall for this!”

“You didn’t even spell ‘can’t’ right,” Scruffy pointed out amongst the ‘note’s’ many, many flaws. “And what the heck is ‘Achy-Breaky Pelvis’?!”

“It’s a real condition, Plotfaces!” he snapped as he folded the napkin and tucked it away. “My grandpa had it! Just you watch: old Coach Psycho’s not gonna have a choice—”

The double doors kicked open, but the sound was lost in the tidal wave of noise created by the wild animals known as children, picked up only by the small group who let out a collective ‘eep’ and hurried into a line. The rest of them did not notice the mare marching into the room, that is, until her terrifying, booming voice shook the foundations of the room.

“SHUT UP OR I WILL KILL YOU!”

Most of the students shut their traps immediately, some even flash-freezing where they stood as they recognized the voice that made them want to void their bowels and saw its owner standing over them like the golem she was.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND! SHUT UP AND GET IN LINE OR I WILL PHYSICALLY-KILL-YOU!”

They were all lined up perfectly like a company of soldiers, none making a peep, before she was even finished yelling.

She was a pegasus mare with a titanic frame made up of an overabundance of massive muscles rippling under a plush crimson coat and black tracksuit. She also sported a jet black mane done up in a short style. With such a figure, at first glance, let’s just say some honest mistakes were made... with unpleasant results.

“Alright, you little mutants, listen up!” Coach Rosy Posy began as she marched up and down in the line of students in a brisk military fashion, keeping her smouldering eyes forward and flexing her mighty wings. “As you know, because of today’s weather and the do-good bureaucrats who’ll freak out if so much as one of you little punks gets a cold, today’s P.E. will be taking place indoors.”

Shroud almost snickered aloud. Bureaucrats were nothing to worry about. If his mother found so much as a single cut or graze on his leg, she’d come down to the school and literally rip all the teachers in half like catalogue books.

“Now since the newest equipment still hasn’t arrived from Manehattan prison, we’ll be playing a school pastime instead...” She whipped a large red rubber ball from under her wing. “DODGEBALL!”

The gym came alive again with the older students cheering in jubilation, while the silent majority's faces collectively contorted with grimace. A certain pair, one a bronze-headed griffin and the other a milky white earth filly, both of them wearing the dumbest, slack-jawed expressions Shroud had ever seen, were in an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

“Huhuhuh, dude, Slaughterball!” The filly laughed stupidly, hoof bumping her best friend and flinging her lime and pink stripped mane from her face.

“Excellent!” They cheered, standing up on their hind legs and playing an air riff.

“Wikus and Metalhead, shut the hay up!” Posy yelled. Both of them shut their traps and got back in line, albeit still struggling to restrain their laughter.

The musclebound mare brushed her mane back, calming down and resuming her march down the line. “Now before any of you little maggots dares asking, I’ve already assigned your groups. Any questions?”

“Eh-hem! Coach?”

She stopped and sighed exasperatedly upon hearing that obnoxious voice from below. Her head cranked down to stare unimpressed at the little turquoise tub of goo standing smugly at her hooves.

“Alright, Bigmouth, what’s today’s excuse?” she asked him dryly. The hefty colt took out his ‘note’ and hoofed it to her, retaining his confident smirking and posture. She skimmed through it, seemingly able to make out the chicken scratch, before glaring at him intently. “... ‘Achy-Breaky Pelvis?’. Really?”

“It’s a medical condition,” he retorted. “Ask a doctor!”

“My office, Butterball,” she ordered stonily, pointing at the double doors. “Now.”

Bigmouth huffed and sulked off with the musclebound mare giving him an ‘encouraging’ nudge as she followed him out. His classmates hardly bothered to mask their laughter, Shroud and Zamira especially. That fat little lump always managed to get away with murder, and seeing him get what was coming to him was immensely satisfying.

“Told ya it wouldn’t work, fatso,” she whispered when was still within earshot.

“Bark chewer!”

“What did you say?!”

“Enough!” Posy spread her wings to keep them apart. “Crete! Get your classmates started before I get back while I take care of this! You know what to do.”

An oversized minotaur calf blew a whistle hanging from a lanyard around his neck before she was even out the door and began ordering the other students around. Crete was Posy’s unofficial 'assistant' and judging by his exceptionally large