Now in the marketplace, Brown was surprised to see how many ponies were shopping at this time of day. He should not have been surprised given that it was almost noon. Regardless, he had his mission of the most vital importance to the hierarchy: Get Luna her cereal. And so he trudged forth towards a shop of a most spectacular nature with a glass wall facing the street. And through this glass he could see rows of various bagged, boxed, and canned items, including cereal.

He opened the doors and stepped inside and took in the surroundings of this shop and began to envy having his ingredients brought in by his assistants rather than taking the opportunity to do so himself. But enough sidetracking, he knew what he had to do. And so he strode up to one of the shelves offering a vast variety of bags of cereals of all different shapes, sizes, flavors, countries, smells, and general utility. He couldn’t bother to be left to this indecision and so he reached out with a hoof blindly and picked up the first bag he could grasp, and pulled it into his sight. He yelled out in pain when he noticed that his hoof caught onto a mousetrap rather than a bag of cereal.

So after prying the trap off and picking up a bag of cereal, Brown arrived in line to finally conduct his purchase, although it seems several ponies in line were taking quite more than a fair share of their time trying to haggle a boxed truffle down to about five bits, the naves. But once he finishes this he will be free from the subjugation of pressure offered by a world where cereal is an arduous item to acquire, and he may get on with his life of servitude to the princesses. This, as it would turn out, had been a very foolish thought on the part of Brown.

The line moved along at a snails pace, if the snail had its kneecaps smashed in by its slime dealer. By the time he finally became the first in line he could swear that he felt several new hairs having grown out, but at least he didn’t have to wait any longer.

“I’d just like to purchase this please.” Brown stated, placing the sack of breakfast food upon the counter.

“That’ll be ten bits please.”

At ten bits it was tantamount to highway robbery, but it’d have to do. And so he reached into his chef’s attire . . . And pulled out nothing. His pockets were empty save for lint. It seems he had forgotten to bring money. Of course, being the individual of spontaneous moments of sobering wisdom that he was, Brown had a foal-proof plan. “Oh, I think I got the wrong kind. I’ll be back in a moment.”

The cashier was a bit perturbed, but it’s not like they would have done anything. And so Brown walked away with the bag in tow and thought about how he would get out of this prickly situation. There was only one door to the building so sneaking out the back wasn’t the answer, even though it sure got him enough free dinners at restaurants before. He could place the bag in another pony’s possession and whilst they were in the midst of being beaten by the authorities he would sneak out of sight with the bag. But the other customers were all fragile old women, and so the bag would probably crush their rusty bones, meaning he couldn’t sneak away with the bag without causing a scene.

It seems Brown’s options were all at a lost. He bumped his forehead against the glass wall in a futile effort to bludgeon himself. While he did stay conscious, it seems he at least managed to knock some sense into himself. As was the case, his physical pain and discomfort always led to an idea so novel in its nature that it would probably work. And so he took several steps back...

A lone mother was strolling along on this fine day, pushing her infant child in a carriage. The both of them could appreciate the sun’s rays shining onto them, nourishing them with the light they so deserve as living beings on this wonderful world of theirs. However this was only a second benefit to the mother’s original purpose: A trip to the local market to do some grocery shopping. They would succeed in this for they were only a few steps away from the door set in the large glass wall of the building.

Just then, they were accosted by a stallion who was cloaked in a dull dirt-stained white linen sheet who intercepted their path. “Alright lady, give me your money and we can go along with our days.”

The mare gently moved her baby to the side and assumed a stance of passivity. She let him know that she was not going to give him cause to harm her by demonstrating her empty hooves. Slowly she reached into the stroller and retrieved a small coin purse. She held it out to the thief who snatched it right from her hoof and passed by her as he sped away.

But before he could get too far, there was a deafening smashing sound followed by a series of smaller crashes that stung the ears. The thief lain prone upon the ground, incapacitated and standing over him was some crazed pony in chef’s attire holding a bag of cereal who fled from the scene of the crime.

“Today’s not my day.” Said the thief. He sat up on his haunches. “Very well, I will give myself up. I’m sorry if I scared you miss.” He said, before noticing that the mare was knocked out. He could still see she was alive, but his eyes shifted to the stroller. Fearing for the welfare of the child, he immediately got to his hooves and went to the carriage to look inside. Inside, the baby was totally fine.

“How is this even possible?” Asked the thief to nopony in particular. And indeed, it was puzzling. Both he and the mother were covered in numerous slashes and were knocked aside and yet the pony infant was completely and totally okay. “Why are you still here? How are you completely unharmed? You should not exist!”

And all nearby spectators to this incident just stared as the thief kept on talking trash to a foal. But eventually they got along with their day, ignorant of what really happened, and blaming everything on young and unprepared parents.

Author's Note

"You should not exist." Is a super dark insult when you think about it.