Hooves are Hard to Use (Fredbear Shouldn't be a Pony)

Hah, and people said ponies were *cute*.

Fredbear - or Golden, as he was commonly known as - was currently glaring at his own reflection, which had somehow morphed itself into a less-than-attractive, quite disturbing-looking unicorn. His horn was keeping his top-hat balanced quite precariously on his head, and his bow-tie was tangled in a mess of a - eww - mane. Just perfect, he internally groaned, I'm *gorgeous*.

He was glad to see that his beautiful eyes were still dark, and that his grin had stayed plastered to his face, almost as if we were still slumped in a corner in some dark room - just how he liked it. His ears were still slightly round, but stuck up in less-than-adorable ways, tangled fur lying limp.

He'd tried to make himself feel better by making himself look better, but had quickly found out that hooves were hard to use (cue fourth-wall break), and had just ended up tripping face-first in a puddle. He found himself looking more brown than golden.

"Umm, are you okay?" a voice whispered.

"Just peachy," he growled, turning around.

The purple alicorn behind him fainted at the sight of his eyeless face. See, he thought, beautiful.

Giving a whine, the bear-turned-pony-thing grabbed at the strange pony's leg and dragged it out of the wooded areas and into a clearing, snarling. I'm guessing it's female, he thought, since clearly she was dying to date me.

Well, isn't this going to be fun?