Sassy Coco and Equestria’s Worst Boss

by Justice3442

Rating: mature
Tags: Slice of Life, Coco Pommel, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy
Length: 11577

Coco Pommel has two problems. A horrible boss and a dark, vulgar side of her just crying out to take over the mare’s life and try to solve all her problems with cussing and violence.

Coco Pommel has two problems. A horrible boss and a dark, vulgar side of her just crying out to take over the mare’s life and try to solve all her problems with cussing and violence.

Can Coco make it through another day of bizarre tasks without snapping, or will Equestria finally feel the wrath of Sassy Coco?

Rated 'M' for language that would make a sailor blush.

Inspired by the 'Ask Sassy Coco' blog along with conversations with its creator a little of something.

Published 2015-04-03 09:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-16 21:50:21 UTC

Chapter 1: It Actually Doesn’t Beat Having a Live Cat Swung at Your Face

Sassy Coco and Equestria’s Worst BossChapter 1: It Actually Doesn’t Beat Having a Live Cat Swung at Your Face-oooooo-

Coco Pommel, to those who had met her, was a sweet, soft-spoken, polite mare.

You know “pussy” would have been much faster and easier to say.

 To those that got to know her, well… their opinion didn’t change much, except for maybe those ponies would add “considerate” and “hard working” to the list.

You mean “fucking doormat”, maybe.

But there was a side to Coco no one knew about.

A side that’s not a fucking lame, pushover pussy?

A dark side that inside her that urged her to talk back, to disagree…

Or just have a fucking backbone.

… to demand, to take what she wanted.

To be totally fucking rad, maybe?

A side that never shut up.

Fuck you!

Like, ever…

Seriously, fuck off!

Coco sat at her… inexplicably plastic desk…

It’s made of plastic because your fucking boss is a grade ‘S’ turd muffin.

… In her obnoxiously colored baby blue and neon pink colored office with its carpet full of strange, circular-geometrical patterns of all colors.

This place makes me wish I could vomit out of every orifice of our body simultaneously. You know it’d LOOK better after we did that, too!

With a pen that was shaped like a wedge of toast.

The fuck did he even find this awkward as fuck, jive-ass pen?!

Leaning against Coco’s desk with enough weight that the flimsy plastic was starting to bend inward, was her boss. A tall, thin earth pony stallion with a black coat, bright red mane and tail, and bright orange muttonchops that matches his eyes. He was wearing a purple neon and black checkered flannel shirt, gold-colored scarf, square horned rimmed glasses, and yellow galoshes.

Who the fuck decides to dress in this bullshit?! Where did he even find all that fucking garbage?!

“Well, let’s go over today’s outline, shall we?” the stallion said as he seemed to examine one of his galoshes in intent disinterest.

“You mean the itinerary?” Coco asked.

The fuck? Don’t tell me he’s already sick of that word! You had to stop using ‘day plan’ just last week!

“I’ve decided ‘itinerary’ is a too played out, ‘outline’ is not as often used in these situations.”

Fucking called it!

Coco fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Of course, sir.”

Don’t roll your fucking eyes. Stab him in the throat with a pen then roll his ugly, shittily dressed corpse in the carpet and burn the sucker!

Coco’s boss launched straight into the activities of day. Coco braces herself for a number of horrible sounding events that she would have to attend.

Batten down the fucking hatches, incoming shit storm!

“First a new coffee shop has started selling lattes flavored with beet pulp.”

Coco’s mind began to wander almost immediately. A defensive mechanism to keep her from fixating on just horrible the day would be.

I still say you should at least CONSIDER selling an organ or two! It’d be better than this rank-ass garbage job!

Coco looked over her boss’s coat, mane, and tail. He had recently dyed all of them because he thought ‘red and black was woefully underrated.’ Though, she suspected no pony had ever been born with those colors naturally.

Even with all the fucked up magic in the world, nothing ‘natural’ comes out looking like that unless it’s pure fucking evil!

“Next, we’ll check out the Trashcapades.”

The pony with the fake mutton-chops currently going on about some bizarre thing Coco didn’t really get…

What’s to get?! He likes horrible SHIT and he’s talking about horrible SHIT! He wears horrible SHIT and he’s a horseshoe’s throw away from just plain eating shit just so he can write a column about the horrible fucking experience.

“A new bakery has opened up in which the owner swears literally that his own blood, sweat, tears, and other assorted body fluids have gone into each creation.

See! I fucking told you!

…Was named ‘Hipsterdouche’.

What a horrible fucking name!

“And finally, there’s a band that only uses wet paper bags as instruments.”

Coco hadn’t figured out if Hipsterdouche somehow changed his name to that, or if his parents just resented having a foal.

Oh, you KNOW his parents just knew he was the worst fucking thing in Equestria from birth!

But his name currently fit him like a handcrafted shirt made out of orange traffic cone and day-glow lime-colored wool.

For the love of Celestia’s glowing twat, don’t ever let him know that shitty thing could be made. He’ll pop a boner so hard he’ll probably strain his dick and maybe poke one of our eyes out.

And working for him was easily as irritating as wearing said eyesore.

Close. Just use barbed wire instead of thread and that’ll about cover it.

“Coco? Are you listening?”

Only the part where you want to eat baked pony shit.

“Mmmmhmmm!” Coco smiled and nodded her head up and down. In truth, she wasn’t listening at all, but she had become adept at writing down everything Hipsterdouche said while simultaneously retreating into her own thoughts and trying to block out the obnoxious and vulgar yelling of her ‘sassy’ side.

Seriously! What the fuck is your damage!?

“Good, well so far I’ve heard terrible things about the beet coffee, but I’m sure only plebs have tried it, so…”

Coco’s mind began to wander as Hipsterdouche explained how all the terrible things he wanted him and Coco to do were somehow not terrible.

You KNOW there’s absolutely no fucking way to justify ‘fluid cake’!

It’s been said that life in the big city was hard. Manehattan was often known as a pony eat pony town.

There’s an idea! You can eat the mother fucker. Although he probably tastes like flannel and twig flavored cider.

There was one brief, shining moment where Coco had a job she liked and worked for people she liked. Designing dresses for a play was certainly a fun challenge, but she needed a job to keep the income coming when she wasn’t needed to make dresses.

Remember the twig flavored cider?! I can’t believe the asshole ponies of this town read this cunt smoker’s column and started making it popular!

Somehow Coco found herself working for someone that made her long for the days when she was Suri Polomare’s slave.

Ew! No! That stuck up twat waffle was just HORRIBLE!

Granted, Hipsterdouche hadn’t really done anything to challenge her moral integrity, but everyday working as his personal secretary was a surreal nightmare that she had to somehow live through.

Oh man… Remember ‘edible paint!?’ Our tongue looked like a fucking rainbow strapped explosives to its chest and committed an act of terrorism in our mouth! Not to mention we were pulling out fucking splinters for days… FUCKING DAYS… afterwards!”

“… Well, that about covers it.” Hipsterdouche concluded. “We better get an early start before a line starts forming for that beet coffee.”

Better yet, let’s just stay inside and punch ourselves in the genitals. It’ll save time and be less horrible than anything else you said!

“Could you grab my bag, Coco?”

Ugh… That fucking bag. I rather munch on a box of dried donkey taint then lug that fucking thing around all day.

Hipsterdouche’s bag was made out of tin-foil and duct tape because ‘cloth was too mainstream’. The tin-foil ripped constantly, and repairs were made with more tin foil and duct tape, which turned the bag into a bulbously bagtrocity that was a pain to carry.

Alright, I fucking gotta give you props for ‘bagtrocity’, but you should have said ‘bitch to carry.’

Coco stepped to the floor and grabbed the bag off the side of her desk, grunting as she slung the item over her back. It was pretty rare when Hipsterdouche would carry it. Instead the mangled piece of chrome-colored garbage in a vaguely bag shape had become a bloated mass of junk that Coco was forced to lug around. No matter how often Coco went through it and suggested her boss could do with a few less scarves, pens shaped like fish, or peat moss sandwiches  Hipsterdouche responded that he ‘you never know what I might that’. The item felt very much like Coco’s personal albatross hanging around her neck, except much heavier and smellier than a dead bird would be.

We’d be better off with a millstone that was used to squash shit into candy bars… Don’t tell Douche that, he might find a pony who actually is doing that and force us to take notes while he chows down on all the shit candy.

Despite the obvious shakiness in Coco’s legs just from picking up the bag, Hipsterdouche simply smiled and walked to the door. “Well, we best be off! The newest and greatest discoveries of Equestria aren’t just going to write about themselves!”

I think he meant to say “freshist shit”.

After once again being forced to take the stairs because elevators were ‘too mainstream’ Coco and Hipsterdouche were out on the street of Manehattan, on their way to—

“Whoops!” Hipsterdouche said as he shielded his eyes from the morning sun. “Forgot my over-the-glasses sunglasses! Wait here!” Hipsterdouche turned and began trotting back towards the tall office building. “I’ll be right back!”

FUCK YOU AND YOUR FUGLY, OVERSIZED SUNGLASSES!

“Oh… okaaaay…” Coco said shakily as the heavy bag had already began to take its toll on her legs. She soon found her legs giving out from under her.

‘Thud!’

Coco groaned in pain as the heavy bag brought her to the ground, crushing her under the combined weight of duct tape, tin foil, and day-glow scarfs.

JUST SHANK THE FUCKING CUNT SACK ALREADY!

-ooooo-

Coco’s brow and muzzle wrinkled simultaneously as she and Hipsterdouche walked into the coffee shop. The usually pleasant smell of coffee was mixed with the earthy smell of beets making for a bizarre smell combination that Coco wasn’t sure what to make of.

Blech! This is like being in some fucking crazy, caffeinated farmer’s kitchen.

The misshapen bag was now being pulled by a beat up red wagon she was forced to purchase with her own money.

Well, it’s free grass at the park for a while unless we can pawn some of this idiot’s garbage on that crazy white bitch later today…

Coco paid her sassy side no mind…

Fuck off! I listen to all YOUR whinybullshit!

… and took some solace in the fact that Hipsterdouche seemed to like the wagon, even if he insisted Coco paint it a different color later. ‘Red is soooo overdone!’

Wanna take bets that’s the last thing he says when we slice his stomach open and show him his fucking guts!?

Hipsterdouche spotted a pony standing behind a cherry-oak colored counter holding up a newspaper. He smiled. “Good morning, my dear barista!”

The paper fell revealing a tired-looking female earth pony mare with a mocha coat and a long, straight light-brown mane. She looked at Coco and Hipsterdouche with surprise as if she couldn’t believe there were ponies even in the shop. This was followed by a surprised yelp as her eyes took in Hipsterdouche in his full… douchey… glory.

As funny as that was, I’m pretty fucking far from okay that the coffee girl looks like she hasn’t been sampling any of her shops own product!

“C… can I help you?” The barista asked in an unsure tone. “Are you lost?” A frown suddenly set on the barista’s face as she stared harder at Hipsterdouche, as if she was still figuring out exactly what he was. “Do you… do you need some money…?” she asked as she cocked her eyebrow.

Nice guess lady, but the homeless dress AND smell nicer than this asshole on four legs.

Hipsterdouche shook his head. “Haha! No! It is us who will pay you for two cups of your fine beet coffee!”

The mare’s eyes darted to a clear carafe full of some reddish brown liquid set in a coffee machine. Her eyes darted back to Hipsterdouche. “Are you… are you sure?”

It looks like somepony had a bloody shit and decided to put it in a blender!

Hipsterdouche walked up to the counter and reached into a pocket on his flannel shirt. He pulled out a hoofful of bits and placed them on the counter in front of the cashier. “I’m as sure about this as I am about everything I say and do!”

Incoming gut pain!

The barista simply gave Hipsterdouche a blank stare.

“Absolutely!”

Coco felt a nauseating sensation her stomach as she was once again confronted with the notion that her bosses utterly unexplainable tastes in everything was not done with any hint of irony at all.

Fuckin’ called it!

Hipsterdouche continued to smile. “Make them Grande, will you! We’re going to need lots of energy for the Trashcapades!”

“Oh-Okay…” The barista said as she eyed Hipsterdouche suspiciously and gathered the bits on the counter. As the barista opened a brass register she shot Coco a look as if asking ‘Is this guy for real?’

Coco returned the look with one that said ‘Run!’ or even ‘Save yourself!’

OR JUST FUCKING PICK UP THE CASH REGISTER AND USE IT TO CRACK OPEN HIS FUCKING SKULL!

The Barista simply gritted her teeth and quickly turned, trotting up to the coffee machine.

Soon the barista had filled two disposable cups with the reddish brown sludge. The smell of beets began to weigh heavily on Coco’s nose.

You’re not really going to make us drink that fucking shit?! Right!? RIGHT!?

“I can put on lids if you want.” The barista offered. “But the drink is so thick it usually gets stuck…”

Hipsterdouche smiled and took the cup in a forehoof. “Lids are for plebs,” he announced.

The barista simply cocked her head slightly as she gave Hipsterdouche yet another unsure stare. “… Riiiight…”

Hipsterdouche tipped back his cup and his head, letting the viscous mass slide into his throat as he chugged it.

Coco and the Barista put on matching looks of disbelief.

Am I the only pony that’s not surprised this guy doesn’t have a gag reflex?

Soon, Hipsterdouche’s cup was empty. The stallion sat it down with a satisfied smile on his face. “Oh, Coco! You simply must try this! It’s like a beautiful combination of what natural Equestria has to offer the unworthy ponies of this planet!”

I bet it tastes like Mother Nature taking a dump in your mouth!

Coco swallowed as she trotted up to the counter. The fumes from the coffee started to make her feel dizzy, but she knew she could either drink the sludge or spend all day hearing Hipsterdouche describe the ‘enlightening experience which was probably beyond a plain mare like you anyways’.

I’ll take option three. Scold his stupid face with the coffee, drag his screaming ass out into the street, and then make him taste the fucking curb!

Coco took the cup in a forehoof and immediately turned her head to get her muzzle as far away from the offending odor as she could while still holding the cup. She looked over at Hipsterdouche who simply smiled expectantly and then the barista who gave Coco a look of squeamish concern.

Don’t you fucking dare!

Coco plugged her nose with one hoof…

DON’T FUCKING DO IT!

…then took a big gulp of the beet coffee.

THE FUCK DID I JUST SAY!?

Oh, Celestia! This is even worse than I thought! Maybe it won’t be as bad going down…

Hooolyeee Princess shit! You can’t be fucking serious!

Coco swallowed the viscous, almost gooey substance in her mouth. I was wrong!

YOU WERE SO FUCKING WRONG!

Coco set her large cup back on the café counter.

The barista gave Coco an impressed look. “Hey! You’re the first ponies to try it without spitting it out or vomiting right away.”

“Ba-bathroom?!” Coco exclaimed moments before her cheeks puffed out and she held her mouth closed with a forehoof.

The café worker pointed down past empty seats and booths

Coco bolted where the mare pointed, keeping one hoof firmly over her mouth, limping at a high speed as the pressure behind her lips threatened to give way to the contents of her stomach.

“Correction!” The chipper mare said as she focused her attention on Hipsterdouche. “First pony to try the coffee without spitting it out or vomiting right away.”

Hipsterdouche shook his head. “Coco still has a bit too much of the plebian common pony mindset around her.” Hipsterdouche raised Coco’s cup to his muzzle and gave it a sniff. “She has trouble appreciated the deep earthy tones and bitterness that make up the complexity of this drink.”

The mare shrugged. “If you say so… I can’t blame her though. I think the coffee here tastes like shit.”

-ooo-

“BLRARRRHGGHGH!”

*Awww man. Two muffins and a bowl of cereal back out the wrong direction and I can still taste beets on my tongue!*

Shut… shut up! Coco replied internally as she raised her muzzle out of the toilet, returned all four hoofs to the floor, and trotted over to the sink. I'm working on it!

Well fucking get a move on, bitch! Why’d you make us drink that shit?! The vomit was a welcome flavor change from that horrible swill!

There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Oh, Coco?” Hipsterdouche called out. “Are you almost done savoring the delicious taste of the beet coffee a second time in there? We have a tight schedule to keep!”

Coco shot the door a sneer as she wiped at her muzzle with a forearm then turned the sink on. “I’ll be out in a minute!” she said, forcing a sweet voice as she washed her hooves.

“Good! I don’t want to keep the good ponies who organized the Trashcapades waiting!”

Coco sighed heavily to herself.

Seriously! You could grab that fucker RIGHT now and drag him in here to drown him in the toilet full of fucking horrible beet coffee vomit! The only downside is he’d probably get off on it!

Chapter 2: You Thrash, I Thrash, We All Thrash for Trash…capades

Sassy Coco and Equestria’s Worst Boss Chapter 2: You Thrash, I Thrash, We All Thrash for Trash…capades-oooooo-

Coco kept her eyes pointed at the red painted hoofs under the black dyed fur which trotted in front of her. This kept her from making eye contact with the ponies that stared at her and her boss. Thankfully, they mostly stared at Hipsterdouche, but the attention Coco and her boss both got everywhere they went made her uncomfortable.

I keep telling you! Just tell the fuckers if they don’t want to see the insides of their colons, they’ll point their fucking eyeballs somewhere else!

Coco fought the urge to sigh as she continued to follow the walking eyesore that was her boss, dragging her squeaky red wagon behind her. In addition to the bloated bag constructed out of tin foil and duct tape, the wagon was now loaded with beets, a large rubber mallet, and several bags of coffee beans. Coco had a sinking suspicion that she’d be asked to crush both beans and beets with the mallet and make more of the horrible coffee that Hipsterdouche had taking such a liking to.

Just use the mallet to beat that beet loving maniac to death! He’s such a pain in the tits that no court in Equestria would convict you!

Though the noisy wheeled device offered a welcome break from having to carry the bag on her back, she suspected it ultimately would just encourage Hipsterdouche to purchase more items to load it with.

Why’d you get such a shitty wagon anyways!? The noise makes me want to dig out our eardrums with this fucking tool’s lawn scraper he keeps in the fucking bag!

Coco furrowed her brow and looked upwards, making it look like she was irritated with the cloudless sky as she continued to trot down the Manehatten Street. Just shut up, alright?! It was either this or we crawl through town carrying that heavy bag! And I didn’t have much money! This wagon was all I could afford!

So?!  Just tell the walking color wheel failure in front of us that one of these alleyways leads to ‘The Cave Experience!’ He’ll run right in then we can club him to death with his own craptacular bag! Until the fucking piece of garbage full of garbage breaks that is. Then we keep his money and throw ALL the useless garbage in a dumpster! No pony has to know!

The wrinkles on Coco’s forehead deepened. Then we’d need to find a new job!

What can be fucking worse than working for this bucket of dirty assholes!?

… Beet Coffee maker?

… Fuck you!

NO! FU… I mean, ‘buck you’!

Ugh… By Princess Cadances magically singing baby hole! You can’t even think swear, you fucking pussy!

What’s your deal with bringing up ponies… PRIVATES all the time?! We—I mean… I’M not even into that sort of stuff!

Fuck off, pussy bitch! There’s a whole world of swears out there and I’m not going to limit myself just ‘cause WE’RE not interested in other ponies’ junk! Besides, you could at least get up the nerve to think ‘vag and dick’ instead of some weak-ass shit like ‘privates’! What are you, fucking five!?

 Coco began to full on death glare at the tops of tall buildings and blue sky above. Well excuse me if I just want to keep my mind clean!

Here’s an article title for you, ‘NO PONY FUCKING GIVES A SHIT WHAT GOES ON IN YOUR HEAD!’ Just think ‘vag’.

No!

Do it, pussy! Think ‘vag’!

I said—THOUGHT ‘NO!’

Stop being such an asshole! Just think ‘vag’!

Coco began to grind her teeth as she continued to shoot her rage-filled glare up at the sky. I’m not going to do it! JUST SHUT UP!

Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag! Vag!

STOP IT!

Vag! Vag! Vag! Cunt! Poon-tang! Pussy! Baby Cannon! Dick cocoon!

KNOCK IT OFF!

The pink taco! Piss flaps! The shaved pony in the pink canoe!

STOP SAYING WEIRD NAMES FOR ‘VAG’! HOW DO WE… I… uh… YOU EVEN KNOW ALL THESE?!

HA! I DID IT! I FUCKING DID IT! I MADE YOU THINK ‘VAG’!

BUCK OFF!

Nice try! Now just replace the ‘b’ with an ‘f’ and we’re in fucking business!

“GrrrrrrrAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Hipsterdouche stopped and turned around as all the ponies nearby also began to stare at Coco.

Coco’s face flushed a luminescent shade of red. “Sa… sorry…” she uttered.

Nice going, shit for brains!

YOU live in my head!

Yeah, and the inside is fucking shitty, what’s your fucking point?

Hipsterdouche simply gave Coco a smile. “Don’t worry Coco. I know you must be moist with anticipation for the Trashcapades but we’re just a block away!”

Ew!

JUST FUCKING STRANGLE HIM WITH HIS UGLY-ASS SCARF, ALREADY!

“Uh… Yes… Sorry, Hipster.”

And don’t apologize to that pigeon fucker!

“Please Coco, call me ‘Mr. Douche.’”

“Sorry, Mr. Douche,” Coco said as the redness in her cheeks began to subside slightly. “Just got little distracted.”

… Penis penitentiary!

SHUT! UP!

“Hmmm, yes…” Hipsterdouche replied. “Well keep focused.” Hipsterdouche turned and continued walking down the street. “You’ll need all your senses ready for the majesty that awaits us!”

Are we going to meet the fucking garbage princess?!

Not now!

“Yes, sir!” Coco said obediently.

Hey Coco, there’s a little brown on your nose.

One of Coco’s eyes began to twitch.

‘Cause you have your muzzle up that fucker’s asshole.

…

‘Cause you’ve got your lips fucking planted right on his taint.

I GET IT!

“And we’ve arrived!” Hipsterdouche announced.

Fucking finally!

Coco let out a sigh of relief.

“I found a box full of pizza crust!” a feminine voice announced.

“Sweet! I know what I’m having for dinner!” a masculine voice replied.

Coco let out a whimper of concern. She looked up to see a young adult mare and stallion, rooting through two dumpsters that were set across from each other in a dirty alleyway. The ponies in the dumpsters wore matching frayed and soiled green beanie’s that covered dirty and matted manes. The mare had long tangled mane that appeared to be white with just a hint of purple under all the filth on it, and the stallion had a messy black curly mane. Though both were nearly covered head to toe in brown, black, and dark green smears, though Coco surmised that under the filth the mare had a lilac-colored coat and the stallion a red one.

“GREETINGS PERFORMERS!” Hipsterdouche said loudly.

“Ah!” The stallion exclaimed as he jumped slightly and dropped a rotten apple core.

“Eak!” the mare cried as she ducked down so that only her eyes, hat, and filthy mane were visible over the green dumpster line.

The stallion also ducked down as he flashed eyes laced with suspicion at Hipsterdouche, then Coco, then back to Hipsterdouche. “These are our dumpsters! Get your own!”

I still say they look better than that fucking collection of thrift store reject clothes!

“Fret not, my young performer!” Hipsterdouche said. “We have come to bear witness to your majestic Trashcapades!”

The stallion and mare both exchanged a quick, confused glance.

The mare raised her forehooves to her mouth and whispered in a forced tone to the stallion. “Ask them if they’re cops!”

“Hey, yeah!” The stallion said with a smile. He turned and gave Hipsterdouche and Coco a stern look. “Are you two cops? You have to tell us or its entrapment!”

That’s just an urban myth, you fucking stooge!

Oh, cut him some slack! These two look are going to eat pizza crust for dinner!

Just because your poor as shit doesn’t mean you get to be ignorant as shit!

Hipsterdouche shook his head. “I assure you, neither me nor my assistant her are constables.”

Damn, does this dickweed talk like a tool.

The two dumpster diving ponies exchanged another look and shrugged.

“Okay,” the stallion said, “but the Trashcapades aren’t free.”

You filthy fuckers should be paying us just for having to smell your rank asses!

Really?! They’re dumpster diving and you want to make them feel worse about themselves?!

“Yeah!” the mare chimed in. “Give us the bits!” She bounded her hoofs against the edge of her dumpster. “The bits! The bits! The bits!”

The stallion smiled and began hitting his own hoofs against his dumpster as he joined in. “The bits! The bits! The bits!”

Hipsterdouche chuckled to himself. “But of course…” he said as he reached into his flannel pocket and pulled out hoofful of golden bits.

Both ponies leapt from their dumpsters and dashed towards the outstretched hoof.

The mare quickly grabbed one and bit into it. “Ouch… They’re real!”

The stallion gasped as he gathered the remaining bits. “Sweet! Now we can afford something to dip our crust in!”

The mare smiled at the stallion. “Actually, there’s a pretty big ketchup smear on the side of my dumpster.”

“Sweet! Now we can afford cider to get drunk off of!”

Coco puffed out her lower lip as it quivered slightly

… Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. This is just fucking sad right here.

Hipsterdouche smiled wide. “Well, now that we’ve paid for admission, may we get started?”

“Buck yeah we can!” the stallion exclaimed as he rushed back to his dumpster.

The mare giggled to herself as she too made her way back to her own refuse repository. “Watch your head! Lots of rusty cans in my dumpster!”

Each pony now settled in their respective dumpster, the two began reaching into the refuse around them and hurling the filthy trash at each other with reckless abandon. Cans, crumpled up and soiled pieces of paper, and mostly consumed, rotten pieces of food flew back in forth. Hitting the ground, the dumpsters, and occasionally one of the ponies engaged in what Coco could only describe as a ‘trash battle’.

What…

Hipsterdouche pupils widened to take which was, by the look of his awed expression, some sort of glorious display of performance art.

… the..

Coco, on the other hand, merely watched with one eyebrow cocked upwards and her jaw hanging down as the stallion threw a rotten banana peel and the mare returned fire with an empty, rusted can of baked beans.

… fuck.

“Mr. Douche?” Coco asked tentatively.

“Yes, Coco?”

“Are you sure this isn’t just two homeless ponies throwing trash at each other?”

“Pfffft! Maybe to the untrained eye! But you’re missing the deeper subtext here,” Hipsterdouche replied as he gestured out to the two trash tossing ponies with a foreleg.

Subtext my flank! He just paid two filthy dumpster dwellers to have a garbage war!

“…Uh-huh …?”

“See, the refuse represents the pony condition.”

“Right…”

“And the performers represent life and death themselves.”

“Wait… Which one is life and which one is dea—”

“And the stench!” Hipsterdouche inhaled deeply with his nose and smiled. “The stench is the very cosmos!”

If this fucking smell is going through the entire universe, it sure explains a metric-ass-ton of shit that goes on here.

“… Can I step outside the cosmos, Mr. Douche?”

Hipsterdouche gasped. “That’s…. that’s brilliant! Yes, Coco! You may leave this material world behind and achieve enlightenment! But please remain close enough that you can take notes.”

Coco gritted her teeth. “Yes, sir…”

JUST GROW A PAIR AND KILL HIM WITH ONE OF THESE RUSTY CAN LIDS ALREADY!

“INCOMING!” the stallion shouted.

Coco looked up just in time to have a filthy watermelon rind smack her in the face on the wet side. She felt her teeth began to grind almost instinctively as the soiled and smelly food item slid off the front of her face.

Don’t… say… a … bucking word!

… Velvetstink trench!

GRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Chapter 3: Making a Lunch Connection

Sassy Coco and Equestria’s Worst Boss Chapter 3: Making a Lunch Connection-oooooo-

Coco kept low as she quietly left the busy fast-food restaurant, breathing a sigh of relief as she successfully got outside without being noticed. She adjusted flaccid looking lavender saddle bags as her sassy side piped up.

Just tell anypony that gives you trouble to go stick their fucking head in the deep fryer! How is that hard?!

Look, I feel bad not buying anything. Coco frowned as her stomach began to growl. Which I would have done since we’re on lunch break if we—I* had any money!*

Whatever… I bet that fucking messed up marshmallow with purple springs and a horn sticking out of it will cough up some cash AND treat us to lunch. Fucking weirdo.

Coco smiled as she walked up to a day-glow green thermal blanket that had had a large lump under it. The blanket made a loud crinkling noise as she grabbed it and folded it up, revealing the wagon full of miscellaneous stuff, now including the souvenir of an empty rusting can which formerly held creamed corn. The blanket was strange enough that it seemed to make everypony simply stare at it rather than peak under it and perhaps help themselves to the… whatever underneath.

Ugh… This fucking thing again…

Coco wasn’t quite sure if her sassy side meant the wagon, or the insulation blanket specifically. Hipsterdouche had her fashion it into a cape at one point… a very loud, annoying cape.

At least we couldn’t hear that fucking garbage collecting piece of trash when he wore the damn thing.

Wait… You heard… er…that?

Dude! I’m in your head! I hear everything!

Coco felt a cold sweat come over her. She wasn’t sure what the implications were of her sassy side knowing everything she thought, but she know she didn’t like it.

I can still hear you! And fucking deal with it!

Coco sighed internally as she began walking down the sidewalk once more. Let’s just go meet up with Rarity.

I hope that rich bitch treats us to something nice… Like fifty hotdogs.

There’s no way you… I can eat fifty hotdogs.

FUCK YOU WE CAN’T EAT FIFTY HOTDOGS!

-ooo-

Coco kept her head down as she walked through Manehattan’s central park. Though the vast expanse of well kempt grass, trees, fountains, and the odd pond was usually a source of relaxation for her, she currently was very self-aware that she was being stared at by quite a number of ponies due to the wagon and the odd collection of items it carried.

Seriously! Just fucking scream at every pony!

That would just get more of them to stare at me!

Only until you threaten to take out their eyeballs with a turnip baller! And we’d finally find a use for that jagged piece of garbage!

Coco sighed as she remembered one of many bizarre artifacts held in Hipsterdouche’s bag. The turnip baller, like many items in the foil and duct tape bag, would often rip through the multiple (though mostly torn) layers of flimsy foil. However, carrying the bag in a wagon had already noticeably lessened her need to stop and repair the bag.

“Coco, darling! Over here.”

Coco looked up and smiled at the friendly greeting.

You heard a greeting. I heard the sound of a cash register opening!

Oh, hush you! Coco trotted over towards the fountain that Rarity stood in front of. In the center of a large, circular pool of water, a massive metal centerpiece of Celestia on a several story tall pedestal stood. The water seemed to come out from just below Celestia’s hooves and drizzle into a larger basin which emptied out into the pool below. Directly under Celestia where more metal statues, these of small foals of all races smiling as water rained down in front of them.

Coco had seen the fountain many times, she instead focused her attention on Rarity. The white unicorn had obviously picked up on some of the latest local fashion. Rarity’s purple mane sprung out from under a black, wide brimmed hat and she sported a large pair of sunglasses. Fancy-looking black saddlebags completed the ensemble.

Rarity grinned wide and motioned to the park that surrounded the two mares. “My dear, however do you manage to live amongst such glorious spendor without simply getting lost in it all?!”

‘Glorious splendor’?! Ignoring all the fucking stuff that happened JUST TODAY, remember that time we saw that bum take a leak in broad daylight?!

Coco gave Rarity a small smile. “Well, I guess it is pretty nice. But there are its downsides.”

He wasn’t even peeing on anything!

Rarity giggled. “I dare say you probably have trouble finding those given your current state of affairs.”

The fuck is this crazy bitch on about?

“Come again?” Coco asked.

“Your career, darling! It must be sooo rewarding to help such an influential pony!”

First off, I rather we were paid to guzzle hamster cum than to help that stick-up-the-ass shitwad. Second off, ‘influential’?! The only ponies stupid enough to follow any of his advice are batshit insane ponies such as yourself.

Coco forced a smile that somehow looked earnest despite her misgivings of working for Hipsterdouche. “Yeah… every day’s an adventure with Hipsterdouche.”

Maybe an adventure you never wanted! Like shaving all your hair off then swimming in a pool of shit covered broken glass!

Rarity smiled. “I can only imagine! It must be endlessly fascinating to be on the vanguard of what’s new and upcoming!”

Ugh… You mean what’s utter shit and… You know what? Fuck it. Coco, imagine a gun so I can shoot myself and put myself out of my fucking misery here.

Coco tried her best to maintain her smile. Thankfully, she had much experience here and somehow kept it looking earnest. “‘Fascinating’ certainly is one way to describe it.”

I can think of other words, too! And most of them involve yours or someone else’s ass… All of them, in fact.

“Oh don’t be so modest, dear! I can’t wait to hear all about, it!”

Coco’s smile dropped ever so slightly.

Do it! Tell her it fucking blows chunky artichoke soup! Break her fucking heart!

No! She’s being nice to us! And she may be the answer to our money problems!

Watching her break down into a sobbing mess right here would be totally worth it! Come on! Do it, pussy!

Do you want hotdogs or not?!

Well, fucking d’uuhhhh!

Then I can’t just break Rarity’s heart! No matter how misguided her feelings are.

Well that sounds like a fucking justification ‘cause you need the money if I ever heard one, but I don’t care as long as we get some REAL food at some point.

“Coco, darling? Are you feeling alright? You’ve gone awfully quiet all of a sudden. Even for such a soft-spoken pony such as yourself!”

Coco looked at Rarity as if suddenly coming out of a daze. “I’m sorry Rarity! I just got a little lost in thought.”

That’s the best you could come up?! Just tell the bitch we’re hungry and need something that doesn’t taste like ass!

“Quite alright dear,” Rarity said with a smile. She tilted her head slightly, looking past Coco. “My, that’s an unusual assortment of items.”

Coco grimaced.

That’s one way to say ‘a shitty wagon full of fucking trash!’

Rarity gave Coco a concerned look. “Don’t tell me this wagon… and erm… bag…? is how you carry around your necessities.”

Coco shook her head, “Actually the bag and everything in the wagon is Hipsterdouche’s. I purchased the wagon just today to… erm…

Help carry that fucking piece of foil shit instead of using it to choke your wang-box of a boss to death, ‘cause you’re a pussy?!

“… assist with my secretary duties.”

Rarity’s expression changed immediately to one of wonder and awe. “This… this gloriously forward thinking bag belongs to the Hipsterdouche?!”

More like ‘ass backwards’. In multiple senses of the phrase.

Coco nodded. “Yes, it’s where Hipsterdouche keeps all his… tools he might need.”

As in, ‘the bag is also ass’ in addition to that fucker’s thinking.

Rarity began to sweat and she swallowed. “You don’t think… You don’t think I could purchase the bag, do you?”

Do it! Take the stupid bitch for every bit she’s got!

Coco gave Rarity a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Hipsterdouche would never forgive me if I somehow lost his favorite bag!”

Awwww! Stop being a moist vag and sell the damn thing!

“I see…” Rarity said with a touch of disappointment. “Perhaps one of the items he uses inside?”

Like he’s ever used any of the garbage he keeps in there!

Coco shook her head sadly. “Sorry, Hipsterdouche has me inventory the contents of the bag every day in front of him. He might notice if something was missing.”

Oh for the love of Princess Twilight’s magic… uh… ass… cunt… We have to get SOMETHING out of this white bitch noticing the fucking chrome travesty!

Rarity’s look of disappointment only increased, but then suddenly disappeared as her ears perked up and her eyes went wide. “Can I touch it?”

…Two bits.

“Five bits,” Coco uttered before her face flushed red and she covered her mouth.

Hah! Fucking nice!

“Done!” Rarity said without so much as batting an eyelash. Her horn glowed azure as the flap of one of her saddle bags opened. Rarity turned and thrust a forehoof into it, and within a moment, she was holding out five shining bits.

Coco swallowed. Part of he knew this was wrong.

JUST FUCKING TAKE THE MONEY, YOU PUSSY ASS BITCH!

Coco’s stomach growled in agreement with her sassy side.

Somewhat reluctantly, Coco collected the money from Rarity and placed it in her lavender saddlebags.

YISSSS! MOTHER FUCKIN’ BITS, BABY!

Rarity grinned wide and giddily reached out a trembling forehoof. Slowly, she pushed it into one of the bags many bulges.

‘Rip!’

The already stressed foil gave out almost immediately at Rarity’s touch, and a number of mostly unidentifiable objects spilled out into the wagon.

Rarity quickly retracted her hoof. “Oh goodness me! I’m so, so sorry!” Rarity’s lower lip began to tremble. “I just destroyed a one of a kind piece of fashion.”

Guh… I thought at least this dumb whore knew fashion when she saw it! Fucking hobos know better than to try to make a bag out of foil and tape!

“It’s okay!” Coco insisted. “Happens all the time!” Coco slowly opened the bag and pulled out a roll of foil and a roll of duct tape. Carefully, she rotated the bag and put the spilled contents back in the hole. She then patched the hole up with a layer of foil, some duct tape, then repeated the process a couple times to make sure the bag would at least hold for a little while longer.

Despite what was a pretty mundane task to Coco, Rarity seemed to watch in a sort of transfixed amazement.

“There!” Coco said as she placed both foil and tape back in the bag made of the same material. “Good as new!”

That’s a pretty low fucking bar! I think newborn foals could fucking crawl over it without even noticing it.

“Oh darling, you simply must make me one of those bags.”

YEAH! I TOLD YOU THIS BITCH WAS A GOLD MINE!

“You want a bag made out of foil and duct tape?”

DON’T PUSSY OUT ON ME!

Rarity nodded her head up and down. “If Hipsterdouche himself has one of these, I’m sure it’ll soon be all the rage around Equestria.”

… This stupid bitch KNOWS even most the dumbass ponies of this world ignore that spooge-brained pony’s advice, right?

Rarity continued. “I shall commission you at once!”

FUCK GOLD MINE! SHE’S A FREAKIN’ GEM MINE!

Coco thought briefly about using her clothing making skills to do something as ridiculous as make and sell a bag made out of foil and duct tape. An item she knew from experience that would break constantly and prove to be incredibly impractical. “I… I couldn’t…”

FUCK OFF, PUSSY BITCH! DO YOU WANT TO BE ABLE TO BUY FOOD WE CAN ACTUALLY KEEP DOWN OR NOT?!

“Come, come now,” Rarity said. “I know a pony of your talents could pull this off. Don’t worry, I brought plenty of capital for this trip,” Rarity said as she produced several large, multicolored gems from her saddlebags.

By all the holy shit in the Canterlot sewers! The bitch is loaded!

Coco’s eyes sparkled with the promise of being able to afford real food for quite some time. “Won’t you need that money? I mean… traveling all this way for fashion shows can’t be cheap.”

WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR ISSUE?! THE BITCH IS PRACTICALLY THROWING MONEY AT US AND ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS MAKE A STUPID BAG! GEEZ! IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE DANCING AROUND A POLE WHILE PONIES WITH MASSIVE HARD-ONES STARE AT OUR ASS AND TITS!

Rarity waved a forehoof around dismissively. “Not to worry. The ponies of this town just love anything I cobble together! You should see how much money I’m making off my new line of capes.” Rarity giggled to herself and leaned close to Coco. “You might say the primary material is ‘shower curtain’,” she said in a whisper.

Damn are the ponies of this town fucking stupid.

Coco eyed the gems. “I see… Well… I suppose I could fit making a bag into my schedule.”

FUCKING RIGHT ON!

“Perfect!” Rarity exclaimed as she floated the gems over to Coco. “I can’t wait to see the results.”

Coco forced a smile. What has become of me?

Oh stop being such a little pussy whiner. Something fucking lame like a clean conscious does not buy a massive pile of hotdogs.

Rarity smiled once more. “Now… Our correspondence suggested you had some other item that might be of interest to me.”

Coco’s smile began to waver. Oh Celestia, forgive me! I don’t… I don’t think I can do this anymore!

FUCKING SUCK IT UP! TAKING MONEY FROM THE RICH IS JUST LIKE TAKING WATER FROM A LAKE! THERE’S SO MUCH OF THE FUCKING STUFF, NO ONE GIVES A FUCK WHEN A LITTLE BIT GOES MISSING! PLUS MS. MONEY BAGS IS JUST GIVING IT TO YOU!

Before she can properly sort out her moral quandary, Coco’s stomach growled loud enough that Rarity’s ears perked up. Coco’s ears flopped down around her head as her cheeks turned crimson.

“Oh goodness me, where are my manners?” Rarity said. “You must be starving after your busy morning with Hipsterdouche! Allow me to treat you to lunch!”

I TAKE IT ALL BACK! I LOVE THIS BITCH! SEE IF SHE’LL MARRY YOU!

What?! NO! What if she wants to do stuff… in BED with me?!

You mean what if she straps on a giant purple dildo and wants to pound your precious, puffy, pale, pussy?

Well… yes.

Who gives a fuck as long as we can eat hotdogs every day?!

“Coco, dear? You’ve gone quiet again.”

Her cheeks turned slightly pink as Coco shook her head. “I’m sorry Rarity. Lunch sounds wonderful.”

You fucking bet your ass it does!

Rarity grinned. “Good. Well I know a place nearby I’m sure you’ve just been dying to see again!”

… A place I’ve seen before? Around here…? Oh… Oh no…

… Fuck it… Club the bitch to death and take her money.

Soon Coco and Rarity had arrived at a busy restaurant. Coco did her best to hide her dread and disappointment. A sign that looked like it was made out of children’s building blocks colorfully declared that the restaurant was ‘Connections’ adding ‘Where food and ponies connect!’ in smaller blocks.

Not this fucking place! Just imagine up some fucking sleeping pills. Enough to fucking off myself with!

Though Coco had to give the restaurants some points for originality, the fact was the food was absolutely dreadful. The creator and owner of the restaurant had made food that fit together, much like colorful puzzle pieces. The problem was that in doing so, she had to make each piece hard enough as to not break while ponies took apart or put together their edible structures. Each ‘edible’ piece was almost rock hard and had almost no flavor. Chewing it and getting even one piece down took tremendous effort.

Seriously! Maybe a fucking bridge tall enough that I’d die instantly when I hit the ground… Also imagine some hard-ass ground.

Hipsterdouche had dragged Coco to the restaurant early in his career and managed to capture the wonder and excitement of building stuff out of food along with pushing the health benefits. Though Coco wasn’t sure burning so many calories trying to eat a meal of dubious nutritional merit was really healthy, his readers ate it up… literally in this case.

Fuck, a sword maybe? I can totally go out badass and gory like a fuckin’ samurai!

The article was so popular, in fact, that Hipsterdouche immediately became a pony to keep an eye on… At least to a few ponies with deep pockets. Sadly, this just meant more ridiculous activities Coco was dragged to as his financiers hoped the broken clock that was Hipsterdouche would be right again at some point.

Seriously! A gallon of bleach to chug?! I fucking hate this place!

Coco scanned the restaurant. The outside was absolutely packed, and Coco surmised the inside was as well. Most everypony she saw had a multicolored structure in front of them, and most of those ponies laboriously chewed their food with an eerie, slightly empty smile.

The one notable except Coco could see was a two fully grown ponies who seemed to be ignoring their‘food’ in favor of making faces at one another. The female of the pair, a green earth pony with a medium-length dark-brown mane and cutie mark of a light bulb surrounded by eight different colored dots scrunched both her muzzle and brow as she glared through sunglasses at the stallion in front of her. The stallion in turn, a navy blue colored unicorn with long dark brown hair and brass scales for a cutie mark, had raised his own tinted glasses for greater impact of his own silly face: a stuck out tongue and a lower eyelid pulled down by a forehoof.

Well at least some wack-jobs have figured out how to have fun at this horrible fucking place.

Coco silently hoped the restaurant would be too full for Rarity and her to get seats, she was afforded an extended lunch break, but it wouldn’t last forever. Hipsterdouche’s lunch breaks were long and Coco was never sure where he went or what he did during them.

I’m guessing he spends the whole time trying to suck his own cock.

Rarity chuckled. “Goodness, this place is popular! Good thing I arranged reservations!”

A noose?! ANY FUCKING THING!

Coco sighed internally. At least she had money. Hopefully she could find the time to grab a hotdog, or two… or four after her ‘lunch’ with Rarity.

The two ponies walked up to a purple stallion with a dust blond mane behind a podium. The stallion smiled wide with eyes that screamed, ‘FUCKING GET ME OUT OF HERE!’

“Reservation for Rarity, please,” Rarity said.

The stallion kept smiling as he scanned an open notebook in front of him. “Right this way, please!” he said as he lowered himself to all fours and trotted past the tables, snaking his way between the narrow spaces between restaurant patrons. Rarity followed.

Coco turned back and shot her wagon a worried look. Getting it to the table would be a challenge.

JUST SET FIRE TO THE STUPID THING! OR BETTER YET, SELL IT ALL TO THE DUMB CUNT WHO BROUGHT US HERE!

Coco swallowed and began to trot after Rarity.

‘Crash!’

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry!”

 ‘Thud!’

“What the hell, lady?!”

“I’m so, so sorry!”

‘Crunch!’

“MY LEG!”

“OHMYGOSH! I’M SO INCREDIBLY SORRY!”

…I take it back, walk around with that fucking wagon some more. You’re doin’ fine.

Are you kidding?! Everypony is staring RIGHT at me!

WELL FUCKING JUST STICK A CHAIR UP SOME PONIES ASSHOLE!

No! I’m making a big enough scene in front of Rarity as it is!

Soon the ponies had arrived at the table. Coco quickly grabbed her menu and hid her bright red face behind it despite the fact that she had no intention of eating anything listed on it.

Rarity chuckled. “Goodness, well that wagon sure is eye catching at least.”

Coco sighed as she continued staring at her menu. “Hipsterdouche likes it, but wants me to paint it some shade of neon.”

Rarity’s tone immediately changed. “He… he does?” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps I should invest in one for myself before leaving Manehatten. It seems so useful.”

Damn bitch. Just go find Hipsterdouche and shove his entire cock down your throat.

Ew!

What!? It’ll shut her up!

“Can I get you two anything to drink? Coffee? Water?”

Coco lowered her menu as she heard a familiar feminine voice. Much to her surprise, the barista from the beet coffee shop was standing at her table, wearing an apron with a notepad at the ready.

This bitch again?!

Coco couldn’t hide her surprise, or her slight blush as she realized the pony likely knew Coco had lost her breakfast to the very beet coffee the mare had served. She attempted to pretend she had never seen the pony before in the hope that this morning’s events would not be brought up.

Rarity spoke up, “Iced tea with lemon for me, dear.”

“Just water, thanks…” Coco said meekly.

The mocha colored mare gave Coco a tired smile. “Don’t worry, there’s no beet pulp in the coffee here. Actually it’s pretty good.”

FUCK YES! ORDER COFFEE!

Coco’s blush increased. “Coffee then…”

The waitress smiled and wrote down the mare’s orders.

Slightly embarrassed, but unable to stave off her curiosity, Coco addressed the mare again, “So you work here too?”

The mare chuckled. “Just here.” Her tired eyes wandered off into space as if they suddenly got lost amongst a barely edible town made out of colorful fitted pieces. “Selling that coffee was a little too soul crushing.”

Coco couldn’t help herself. “So you got a job here?”

HA! FUCKING BURN NOTICE, ‘CONNECTIONS’! WE DON’T NEED NO WATER, LET THAT PIECE OF SHIT RESTAURANT BURN!

The mare winced slightly and gave Coco a sheepish smile. “It’s hard to make ends meet in the big city, you know?”

A-fucking-men to that!

Coco nodded solemnly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, “do you two know one another?”

Coco tensed up, suddenly remember emptying the contents of her stomach that morning.

It was your fucking fault for eating that horrible blood and shit colored dreg!

The waitress just smiled. “We had a run in at somewhere else I used to work at.” She placed her notepad back in her apron then lowered herself back down to all fours. “I’ll get your drinks.”

“Friend of yours?” Rarity asked.

Coco gave Rarity an unsure smile. “I don’t know. We just met today while we were both working.”

“Oh?” Rarity asked. “Do tell!”

You fucking walked right into that one, dumbass.

Coco’s eyes went wide. “Hey!” she said reaching into her saddlebag. “I have that item that might interest you.”

Rarity’s eyes opened and her ears lifted with enough force that her sunglasses fell right off her face. She stared at Coco with massive black pools for pupils that had almost blotted out the sapphire-blue of her eyes. “That would... that would be most good,” she said.

Coco gave Rarity a worried smile as she pulled out a small clear plastic box with a white lump in it. “Here… I wasn’t sure if you wanted more gum for your… er… ‘appreciation’ corner, but this is only a days old, so…”

Fuckin’ creepy as fuck, dude.

Rarity let out a squeal of girlish delight. “Fresh?! Do you think it’s still moist?!”

… Never mind. She wins by a fucking landslide of weird curved dicks.

One of Coco’s eyes twitched involuntarily. “It… it looks like it still has some of his spit on it, sure.”

In an azure flash from Rarity’s horn, a modest pile of gems was slammed onto the table.

“GIIIIIIIIVE!” Rarity cried in a ravenous tone.

Shit dude! She’s gone all zombie! Club her with your chair and take the money!

Coco’s managed to keep a smile despite the fact that worry had clearly taken over her features with about the same amount of speed that it took Rarity to turn from ‘calm and collected’, to ‘insane fan girl’.  Coco slowly extended out the hoof with the box as she used her other arms to subtly collect the gems on the table.

In a flash of white, Rarity snatched the box, opened it, and tossed the gum into her mouth.

Drown me in a pool full of whale cum! That’s just SICK!

Coco’s mouth hung open as she watched her friend, who she even looked up to a bit, chew with on the used gum. Rarity sported a huge grin as tears trickled down her cheeks.

“Oh, yes! YES!” Rarity moaned in an orgasmic tone. “I can taste his delicious saliva on my tongue!”

Seriously! Can you please imagine enough whale cum that I can drown myself in?! This is fucking disgusting!

Coco felt the all too familiar feeling of her stomach doing somersaults inside of her, she quickly bolted from her chair and into the restaurant.

Ugh… You better buy so many hotdogs after you do what I know you’re going to do.

Coco quickly picked out the mocha-colored mare in an apron and ran up to her. “Bathroom?!” she said quickly.

The waitress sighed heavily as she gave Coco a sad, sympathetic look. She pointed off into the restaurant.

Coco fled in the direction the hoof was pointed in.

Fucking lightweight…

Chapter 4: Plop, Plop, Biz, Biz, Oh What the Fuck is This?

Sassy Coco and Equestria’s Worst Boss Chapter 4: Plop, Plop, Biz, Biz, Oh What the Fuck is This?-oooooo-

Seriously! Only four fucking hot dogs?! You’re never going to win any Poney Island eating contests if you stop at four!

Why the heck would I even enter?!

Fucking d’uuuuh! Free hotdogs!

Coco sighed to herself as she continued to keep her head low and avoid eye contact with the ponies enjoying the nice afternoon weather as they strolled through Manehattan’s Central park. Though a belly full of her favorite food instead of something awful or even nothing was a welcome change, somehow her Sassy side refused to leave her alone.

Because you only ate four fucking hot dogs! And today sucks a big fat one even if we made some real fucking money and ate some real fucking food. I’m sure there’s an amount of hotdogs we can eat to make me happy… Let’s go back and find out.

Coco kept her scowl aimed at the ground in front of her, less her grumpy expression draw even more attention to herself then the, now neon-orange, wagon and its seemingly random collection of junk already was done.

You should have sold the stupid fucking bag and everything else on the wagon! That white bitch was loaded! We could have lived like hotdog queens!

I took enough from Rarity, thank-you-very-much! I’m going to have a hard enough time getting to sleep thinking about all the gems she gave us for a used piece of gum!

That sick fuck put it in her mouth and sounded like she was having a fucking double orgasm while she did it! I still can’t believe any pony would be fucked in the head enough to actually want that fucktard’s spit in their own mouth!

Rarity’s really nice, okay! She just…

Just batshit insane and needs to be sent to a fucking loony bin?!

She just fixates a bit too much on certain ponies, okay? I understand she used to do something similar for Trenderhoof…

Well fuck me sideways with a poleaxe…

Uh… no?

I’m glad we don’t have a type rather than it being fucking deranged looser ponies who other deranged loser ponies listen to for some stupid reason.

“I trust you feel refreshed after your little break?”

I’d feel a lot better if one of your radioactive looking scarfs gave you a tumor that fucking killed you!

Coco looked up into the near expressionless face of Hipsterdouche. Though Hipsterdouche avoided getting angry with her or just about anyone, Coco knew this was his ‘disappointed’ look. Sadly, with Hipsterdouche himself not having much in the way of a predictable lunch schedule, it was nearly impossible to avoid.

I keep telling you, a little impromptu surgery on his face with a rusty butterknife will go a long way.

“Sorry, Mr. Douche. Erm… Connections was a tad full.”

Technically this didn’t have much to do with how long Coco’s lunch lasted. However, it was also technically true and therefore didn’t weigh heavily on her already burdened conscience.

Or you know… just tell the walking stack of black-and-red ass cheeks he’s horrible then fucking murder him. Problem fucking solved, forever.

Except the part where we eventually run out of coffee and hotdog money!

Hipsterdouche shook his head. “Hmmm…” he hummed in a way that showed he had somehow mastered the tone of a ‘disapproving father’, despite never having a kid.

By Discord’s ten wangs—

Wait… How would you even know—

—I hope this deranged fucker never had a kid. You know if he did he just left it in a garbage bin ‘cause ‘too many ponies already have kids!’

… I’m a little scared now.

Hipsterdouche continued either ignoring or oblivious to Coco’s little chat with herself. “Connections went downhill after ponies started going to it.”

THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF A RESTAURANT, FUCK-MOOK!

Hipsterdouche tilted his head to look past Coco. “I see you found time to paint the wagon. Orange is still a bit close to red, but it’ll do, I suppose.”

SERIOUSLY, I’M GOING TO BREAK INTO YOUR HOME AND MACE YOUR ASSHOLE WHILE YOU SLEEP!

Ugh… No.

… Pussy.

Hipsterdouche continued. “Still, you almost missed the pre show!”

Coco looked around the park, her eyes seeking something out of the ordinary enough to warrant Hipster Douche’s attention.

Nothing but a bunch of assholes staring at us and a buncha rank hobos getting their nap on.

In front of the pair, a snoring, slightly filthy, aging steel blue pegasus with a dark purple mane lifted his leg to loudly pass gas.

And we just found the fucking hobo reeking champion.

“Breathtaking…” Hipsterdouche said as the rancid smell of pony fart filled the park air.

…Fuck it. This is just too easy.

“…Mr. Douche?” Coco said tentatively. “I’m fairly certain that’s just a homeless pony sleeping on a bench.”

Hipsterdouche put on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe he’s homeless because the fetters of everyday life distracted him from perfecting his craft and he abandoned them to pursue it fully.”

… Ever hear something so stupid you wish you could let brain worms infest your skull until that bad memories just ooze out your ears?

‘Thbpbpbpbpbtttt…’

What is it with you and body fluids!?

Bitch, I’m not even talking to you!

‘THBPTBPTBPTBPTBPTBPTBPTBTPBTPBPTBBT!’

Preach it, brother!

“Marvelous,” Hipsterdouche said as he continued to marvel at napping, gassy pony.

What?! If you’re not talking to me, then who?!

Fucking rude! I’m TRYING to have a fucking conversation with that pony’s ass!

‘THBPTBPT!’

I fucking know, right? Some ponies…

“BEEEELCH!”

Oh! Nice one.

Coco shook her head and focused. Both her boss and her sassy side somehow enjoying the one pony gas performance was a bit too much. “I think that’s just flatulence, sir.”

Fucking killjoy.

“Ahhh…” Hipsterdouche tut-tutted as he shook his head. “Coco, someday you’ll learn to listen with more than just your ears.”

That’llbe a usefulskill to have when I rip your ears off and shove the up your—

Ponies have more than two orifices, you know!

—nose. Huh… Not as satisfying, but it at least disables two senses at once.

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake!”

Coco jumped back as the napping pegasus suddenly sat up onto his haunches and gave both her and Hipsterdouche the stink eye. “Can’t a pony sleep and fart in peace?!”

“Sa.. sorry!” Coco said on impulse as much as anything.

“Begging your pardon, my good musician,” Hipsterdouche said with a slight nod. “We were captivated by your melodic tones!”

You were captivate, you fuckin fart sniffing weirdo, I was having the most engrossing conversation I’ve had in weeks.

 Coco sighed internally.

The homeless pegasus simply gave Hipsterdouche a dirty look and grumbled something rude under his breath, giving one more moist pass of gas as he flapped into the air.

Hipsterdouche watched him leave as a melancholy expression slowly made its way onto his face. “There is so much beauty in the world. There goes a true artiste.”

Bye-bye, Assy! ‘Assy’ is the name of that pony’s—

‘Flank’! I got it. Thank you.

“Oh well,” Hipsterdouche said. “The ‘Wet Paper bag sympony’ is next on today’s outline.”

I hope whichever pony originally came up with that fucking pun was dug up and had his corpse violated by Diamond Dogs.

“I thought the erm… Bakery…? Was next?” Coco said tentatively.

Do you WANT to eat spoge cake?! Don’t fucking remind him!

Hipsterdouche chuckled. “Well, I had a big lunch…

Of cock.

Oh hush, you!

“… and I want everything to digest first.”

When he says ‘everything’ he probably means sem—

I get it! Why does that even matter?!

Just saying… Fucking wackjob probably eats enough semen every day to cover Twilight’s Palace.

Where do you even come up with this stuff?! Look! I’ll eat six hotdogs for dinner and even wash it all down with a few cups of coffee if you can just shut up until this wet paper bag thing is over!

Fucking right on! You’ve got yourself a deal!

“Come along, Coco,” Hipsterdouche said as he walked into the park.

Coco followed behind, returning her eyes to the walkway as she continued to drag her squeaky wagon.

“Ah, you must here for the wet paper bag symphony.”

Coco looked up to see a brown earth pony stallion with a wavy light-blue mane and soaked paper bag cutie mark examine Hipsterdouche through a pair of round-framed spectacles. Coco took note that the pony’s expression seemed far more neutral compared to the usual look of shock or revolution that came from first setting eyes on Hipsterdouche.

Hipsterdouche chuckled. “Is it really that obvious?”

The pony looked Hipsterdouche up and down. “Yes. You’re clearly a pony of impeccable taste.”

Coco frowned. Her time with Suri had clued her in a bit to when someone was being sarcastic, or even faking something to pull a scam. In this case, the pony seemed very serious, and ponies who took their strange craft seriously often made for the worst experiences. She looked around and saw a small wooden stage with a trio of ponies sitting on it. Behind the ponies, a water spigot, a garden house, several piles of different sized paper bags, and buckets of various shapes and sizes were organized neatly.

Her frown only deepened as she looked over the trio of ponies, a small framed unicorn stallion with a burnt orange coat and red-orange mane, and twin pale-pink earth pony mares with short black manes that stared back at her with serious expressions on their faces. The stallion sported a bucket sloshing with water for a cutie mark. One of the twin earth pony mares sported a garden hose and the other one sported a spigot.

She could tell by their cutie marks and body language each and every one took whatever display she was about to witness very seriously. In fact, it seemed very much that this group brainstormed how to combine their talents into one unified profession and somehow came up with ‘wet paper bag musicians’.

Coco glanced at Hipsterdouche and the brown stallion as a few bits exchanged hoofs. Well… At least money is going to ponies who seem nice enough.

The brown stallion made his way behind the stage then walked up some steps onto the platform. He stopped as he reached the stack of paper bags. His face took on a calculating look, like some great general preparing for a large scale battle. He suddenly began picking up stacks of the different sized bags and flinging them forward. Each one gently glided onto a different area of the stage with a precision rarely seen applied to throwing bags. Once he had repeated this action with a stack of all the different sizes he stepped forward.

To Coco’s amazement, the trio behind him started to move like a well-timed machine. The pony with the spigot cutie mark seemed to work the spigot on stage with the precision of a surgeon performing a life or death operation. The mare with the hose cutie mark filled buckets, carefully timing moving the hose with her sister as to not waste a drop of water. An orange aura would surround each bucket as the hose moved on to another, and the unicorn would float each bucket over to a section of paper bags and slowly, but deliberately moistened several bags at once.

The whole scene might make for a wonderfully efficient form of tending a garden.

‘Splash!’

If the ponies weren’t simply dumping water on paper bags.

Soon the last bucket had been filled, the spigot turned off, and the each bucket returned to its previous position. The leader’ picked up on of the biggest and wettest bags. He narrowed his eyes and nodded at the other three ponies on stage.

Suddenly, the three ponies made a mad dash for the moist paper bags. The each reached for the closest and just as quickly turned to strike the pony closest to them as the brown stallion lunged at one of the twins with his own bag.

‘**PLOP!Plop! Plop. Plop. ***PLOP!’*

What…

Hipsterdouche was once again in awe at the site before him. Coco simply watched with confusion at the display before her. The rhythm that the ponies seemed to have so carefully choreographed disappeared as far as she could tell.

… the…

Each pony seemed to grab a bag as soon as they one they were had fell apart to the point where it couldn’t be swung. They then proceeded to attack the pony closest to them as savagely as a pony could with a wet paper bag. She wasn’t quite certain if this was some sort of commentary delivered by bizarre performance art or an earnest attempt at making music. However, it was certainly baffling.

... shit?

Well… Guess it’s just a respectable amount of hotdogs for dinner.

… Fuck.

‘PLOP! Plop. PLOP!PLOP!PLOP! Plop. ’

“Mr. Douche?” Coco said in an inquisitive tone. “How long does this last?”

Without taking his eyes off the scene in front of him, Hipsterdouche raised a forehoof to his mouth and shushed Coco.

Do that again and we’re going to see how far that horn of yours will go up your ass when I bend you BACKWARDS into a circle, shit-bucket!

Despite Hipsterdouche’s shushing, he answered Coco in a quieted tone, “Too short, I’m afraid. Only three hours.”

WHAT THE ABSOLUTE SQUARE ROOT OF FUCK!?

Coco’s shoulders slumped as her ears fell around her head. “I see…” she said simply.

‘PLOP!’

Chapter 5: Equestria Really Needs a FDA

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