Gilda Versus The Telephone
It had been months since Gilda had returned to the familiar mountainous, urban life of the Griffon Empire, and another day of flying around the vast beacon of griffon civilization that was the empire’s capitol had come and gone for the young griffoness that had grown up there.
While the Empire lacked magic like Equestria did, it worked around it with an industrial revolution ages ago, which in turn made it less clean then Equestria. Despite this, Gilda was pleased to be away from such a lame backwater country with such lame ponies filling it. Stupid lame ponies. Stupid lame Equestria. Stupid lame Rainbow Dash and her stupid lame friends. Gilda knew she didn't need any of them to know how much cooler she was.
Growling a little, the griffoness rolled over on her couch, wishing she had her scratching post handy, but she didn’t feel like going up to her bedroom to get it. “Eh, who needs a lame scratching post to vent!” Gilda mused. She was alone in her flat, no lame-o dweebs around to make an otherwise good day of flying go downwind.
The couch was old, a hand-me-down from her dad once she'd gotten her own place but it was still comfortable enough for her to curl up and go to sleep on when she felt tired enough, and boy did she ever feel tired! Standing up long enough to stretch her forelegs and wings out, arching up her back end, Gilda lay herself back down and slowly closed her eyes.
Her eyes had not shut more then several seconds when she heard a loud ring. The griffoness’ eyes snapped open and her head cocked as she looked over at the telephone. While normally this invention of mass-communication was something she would consider rubbing in the faces of those stupid bumpkin ponies for not having invented anything past written mail while the Griffon Empire had prided itself on phones for the last century, right now this marvelous invention was getting on her nerves for choosing to alarm her of someone wishing to speak with her when she’d chosen to give herself peace. The griffoness stared at it for a moment, wondering if whatever loser had chosen to disturb her would give up. They did not.
Rolling her eyes, Gilda hopped off the couch and walked over to the phone, picking it up. “This is Gilda, what do you want?” she asked.
“Hi, Gildy! How’s my wittle chickadee?” a doting male voice asked.
“Dad, for the last time, don’t call me that! You got any idea what’ll happen to my rep if anyone hears you say that?!” Gilda demanded.
“Oh, okay. Just wondering how you’re doing, that’s all. It has been awhile since we've talked, you know,” her father replied.
“Cooler then everyone else, like always. Kinda tryin’ to get some z’s here if you don’t mind,” Gilda answered.
“Oh! Sorry about that! Well, I’ll let you get to sleep then, I’m sure you’ve been busying yourself all day,” her father answered.
“You bet.” Gilda answered, attempting to wrap up the conversation so she could try and take a nap again.
“Bye, honey!” her dad said.
“Bye.” Gilda replied, hanging up sharply. “Dweeb.” she added, storming back over to her couch and laying down again.
A few minutes went by, and the griffoness soon discovered the brief stimulation of stress from the interruption had left her more restless, and she was now in need of a way to wind down. Climbing off the couch again, she walked over to her cabinet and fished through her records. Most of them were loud, aggressive guitar music, but she remembered at least one soft classical track she kept for situations like that. “Perfect. This boring stuff’ll put anyone to sleep!” She gloated, taking out the record and then pausing for a second to look at her window, making sure no one saw her pondering over some sissy classical tune.
Placing the record on the player and setting it, the soft music quickly started playing and Gilda could already feel her eyelids grow heavy again. Heading back to the couch, the griffoness lay on her side, her eyes closing once more as sleep began to overtake her...
...Only to be harshly interrupted once more by the loud ring of her telephone. “Aw, are you kidding me?!!” Gilda protested, leaping at the telephone from her spot and nearly knocking it over as she grabbed up the receiver, hovering in the air. “Yeah? What?” She asked.
“Oh, hey, Gilda!” a younger female voice asked. “What’s shakin’?”
“Oh, sup Genevieve?” Gilda asked. “So… what’s so important you gotta wake me up?”
“Oh, sorry. Well, okay this kinda IS important actually!” the griffoness called Genevieve said. “Me and my brother and sister are gonna enter the Equestria Games!”
Gilda let out as loud a yawn as she could. “That lame-o contest with the lame-o ponies? Say it ain’t so.” She said in the most bored, uninterested tone she could manage. It was just another stupid thing those loser ponies did and she knew she could blow away any competition there if she ever worked up the desire to compete in something so totally beneath her.
“Aw, come on! Someone’s gotta show up those ponies at their own game!” Genevieve replied.
“Touche, ‘Vivi.” Gilda said with an amused chuckle. “Just make sure if you run into a pony named Rainbow Dash, make sure she loses way badly, and get me photos!” She ordered. Stupid lame pegasus who thought those losers were cooler then her! If she couldn't show her, let some other griffon who wasn't as cool as her do so.
“Yeah, sure thing, babe!” Genevieve replied. “Anyway, sorry again for wakin’ ya! Catchya later… wait…” the other griffoness paused. “…Is that classical music I hear?”
“No! No it isn’t!” Gilda shouted hastily, hanging up immediately to preserve her dignity and glaring at the record player for a moment as though it were to blame before returning to the sofa once again.
As she lay there, Gilda felt her stomach grumble. “Great, hungry AND tired… fan-freakin’ tastic...” she muttered, getting up and heading to her kitchen. Opening the pantry Gilda grabbed up a clawful of dried meat from a glass jar and then poured herself a drink. The moment she prepared to take a sip, the griffoness was startled by the latest intrusion on her privacy courtesy of the telephone’s loud ringing, causing her to drop her food and drink on the floor.
Letting out an angry snarl as her growing irritation caused her feathers to poof out, Gilda flew back into her living room and yanked off the receiver. “Yes…?” she asked in a low tone, her patience all but depleted now.
“Are you the resident of this number?” a cheerful voice asked. “If so, FlimFlam Cross-Country Wares has a spectacular offer for y—”
“NOT! INTERESTED!” Gilda shouted, slamming down the receiver and returning to the kitchen to clean up her mess, her teeth gritting as she occasionally cast sharp glances at the phone, wondering if it was going to go off again. Several minutes passed and Gilda had managed to clean up the mess and return to the couch, munching on some more dried meat she’d gotten for herself. Ten more minutes passed, all of which Gilda had her gaze fixed firmly on the phone as she ate slowly, not daring to let even the record’s soft track lure her into a false sense of security she was certain the phone would no doubt exploit the first chance it got.
Five more minutes passed, and Gilda’s tension wore down. With all the stress she’d built up, she decided a shower may not have been such a bad idea before she tried to sleep again, especially when she remembered that her drink had spilled on herself when the phone had scared her earlier. Flying upstairs to her bathroom, Gilda turned the lever and the hot water began to spray into the stall. The griffoness slowly stepped in, sighing as the water washed over her, massaging her body from beak to tail.
The moment she was completely soaked, however, the ringing started up again.
“Oh, COME ON!” Gilda screamed out in a hysterical rage, spattering water all over the place as she climbed out of the bathtub and shook off in a fit, grabbing up a towel so she wouldn’t drip too much as she stormed down the steps, the phone still ringing incessantly as she grabbed it up. “WHAT?!” she shouted lividly.
“What’s….” A deep voice snickered. “…your favorite scary film?” it asked.
“The one where I find you and disembowel you with my bare claws!” Gilda snarled into the receiver before hanging up. She turned to head back up the stairs, her ascent interrupted by another loud ringing the moment she reached the top. Her eyes wide and bloodshot with frustration and disbelief as she slowly came back downstairs, staring at the phone as her left eye began to twitch.
It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And rang.
“Not… answering…” she muttered, but it accomplished nothing as the ringing continued on.
"Still not answering." she said softly. The ringing telephone continued to defy her wishes.
With each ring, Gilda could feel what little remained of her patience crumble away completely; any desperate hope that whoever was on the other end of the line would give up, but they didn’t. Slowly approaching, her eyes wide enough they looked ready to bug out of her skull and bloodshot enough now to look almost completely pink, her teeth grinding against eachother as her beak jerked from side to side as she advanced upon the offending machine, Gilda dug her claws into its sides and yanked it from its spot. “You think you can make a fool of Gilda, you stupid ringing piece of junk?! DO YOU?!” she demanded, her expression falling when she realized she was yelling at her telephone without ever having answered it, as the persistent ringing quickly reminded her.
“Y-yeessssssss?” she hissed, receiver up to her ear and nerves shot as that one last, tiny shred of tolerance she managed to recover before all was lost had convinced her to at least figure out who would call her.
“…Oh, sorry. I think I have the wrong number!” the voice on the other end said with a sheepish laugh before hanging up.
“No… no, no, no, no, no, NO!” the griffoness ranted, her dreams of some peace and quiet forever jeopardized so long as she kept this thing in her flat as it suddenly, only two seconds later, began to ring again. Her eye twitched some more, the sound of the record nearby, the shower upstairs, and the ringing phone became a mish-mashed cacophony in the young griffoness’s mind as she began to let out a low, rising growl from her rising anger.
With a loud, ferocious roar, Gilda turned and flung the telephone out of her window with all her strength, and stormed back upstairs, her body completely tense as she re-entered the shower and stared off blankly into space; the hot water on her fur and feathers not getting the stress of this experience off her back nearly as fast as she would have liked.
An hour later, Gilda was dry and clean once more, and lay comfortably on her bed, the traumatic events from earlier gone from her mind as she had reset the track on her record to help her finally get her sleep at last. As Gilda curled up with her scratching post securely within her embrace and let her eyes close free of worry of being disturbed at long last, all felt right with the world for the coolest griffoness alive.
Until the second phone she’d forgotten that she kept next to her bed began to ring, and the screech of an enraged griffoness could be heard from the farthest reaches of the Empire.
Author's Note
Yeah, just a random short fic that I brainstormed and came up with at work last night, and far too many incidents where everyone always calls me when my phone is NOT attended or when I'm trying to sleep. I think we've ALL been in this sort of situation, haven't we? 
Anyways, hope you all enjoyed! Now to get back to my regularly-scheduled long-runners! 
