“I'm going to say it again, for the fifth time this day,” Rains Sunday cleared his throat with disdain, but there was a reason to his feeling of disdain. What a funny word, disdain. “No, I will not be showing you how to do Rock Salt, just talking about it makes my Parole Officer go crazy.”
“Aw!” The classroom was filled with groans of disappointment. The students were obviously kidding about Rains Sunday demonstrating how to do Rock Salt, because they practically know it’s the new drug on the market that the boils the Royal Guards’ blood.
“I will, however, show you the effects of doing Rock Salt and what it does to your brain,” Rains Sunday stood up from his wooden chair. His hooves left the pockets of his orange hoodie. “Who can tell me what to expect if I snort this thing, besides the obvious going back to prison?”
A white unicorn filly raised her hoof.
“Sweetie Belle,” Rains Sunday calls, his mixed matched green right and silver-blue left eyes lighting up from the boredom plaguing his head. Rains Sunday was bored, so what could he do to remedy this situation?
“Why is there a cow?” Sweetie Belle pointed to the black and white cow that was lazily gnawing on Snip’s mane while he slept. Amazing. He could be in the middle of a nuclear winter and he’ll still be asleep… well… given that he would be dead is another form of sleep kind of defeats the purpose of this metaphor.
“It’s going to do gnarly and totally illegal drugs, give me a second,” Rains Sunday took the reins of the cow and lead the bovine away from the colt’s dwindling mane. The class gasped at Rains Sunday’s words, Cheerilee would never approve of this. “Oh, her name is Daisy.”
“You’re not… actually going to give it Rock Salt… right?” Scootaloo asked cautiously, although the answer was as clear as day. Rains Sunday always pushed the limits, always had no regret to his decisions. The stallion was a teacher, he even went to college for it! However, the idea of a teacher/tutor teaching the foals on drugs by his methods could be accounted for as: Foal Endangerment.
"What? You scared of a little salt?" Rains Sunday picked up the vial of Rock Salt that he bought from his local drug dealer, whom warned Rains Sunday to go easy on the salt because it's highly potent. Rains Sunday brushed his mane out of his face, the mane was a dirty gold--like a filthy brass instrument that looks like the mane belonged to a mare. "I prefer my milk salty, it adds flavor."
Rains Sunday uncapped the vial and stuck it up the cow's nostril, the classroom was filled with concerned gasps and whispers. Rains Sunday took the vial out before the cow started to kick at him for plugging her nostril. Rains Sunday looked back at the class with a look that's not even CLOSE to being phased by the idea of giving a cow drugs in front of children. "Let's study it's effects, shall we?"
"So, today, I've learned not to give a bovine Rock Salt because they get really... really... really aggressive," Rains Sunday nursed his black eye with a bag of frozen peas. Rains Sunday just learned what it felt like to get a frantic buck to the face by Daisy, who escaped the classroom after Snails left the door open upon arriving late to class. "So that was a bust, who wants to learn how pain killers effect a pony in some serious pain?"
Two Hours Ago...
"I didn't even do anything malicious, in fact, this is the first time I even walked into this bakery," Rains Sunday sighed, his seemingly infinite patience running thinner by the second. The stallion behind the mare coward, which was odd; Rains Sunday had only offered to pay with bits not with his life."I just want to buy a sweet roll, you get profit from the cost of said sweet roll, and whatever you do with that money is your choice. It's literally a win-win."
"We don't sell to the likes of you!" The mare snarled, swatting the three bits off of her counter. Her husband quickly scrambled to pick them up and stuff them into his pocket. Rains Sunday didn't even flinch at her sudden movement, but he did inhale long enough for his spine to pop and relieve some pain. "You druggies don't belong in this town, if you're going to shoot up do it in a Canterlot alley!"
Rains Sunday paused to reflect, as his lessons of Zen in Rehab taught him. Rains Sunday had entered the Sugarcube Corner for a nice treat after before class starts, and Rains Sunday had never been into Sugarcube Corner or known the owners of the establishments so they might not have had an idea who he would be. They knew and suddenly went red alert, holed up for a brief two minutes before going on the offensive and trying to drive Rains Sunday out with refusal of service.
Rains Sunday acknowledged his feelings, his dismay of the situation at hand. The frustration of a simple transaction was eating away at his organs, how these two ponies discriminated him because of his past mistakes. The fact that ponies hated drug addicts the same way with foal killers made Rains Sunday feel angry, angry that he spent years in rehab to come back to a world that won't accept him. Rains Sunday felt multiple feelings cross him, but he inhaled and exhaled, letting go of said feelings to achieve a peace of mind. Tranquility.
Rains Sunday opened his eyes, his thoughts weren't going to poison his vision of life.
"It's unhealthy to disregard karma," Rains Sunday remarks, turning around to lift his hood over his head and ears. Rains Sunday had been practicing a new religion since rehab, remember the word practicing because he still doesn't have it all down yet. He's some-what zen, let's just say that. "Karma really reflects on your true character in this fine establishment, have a nice day."
Rains Sunday opened the door to leave, giving a moment to take in the last time he plans on visiting this establishment. Hey, Zen doesn't cover avoiding restaurants that might poison your meal. He took his steps and left the building, the sun of early fall hit him in his eyes while the chilly air strike his lungs. Rains Sunday left the building, still wanting a sweet and three bits poorer.
Moving through the Marketplace might have been a bad idea, for many ponies either closed up shops and hid in fear or simply glared in scorching hatred. Rains Sunday merely smiled and waved, offering a small and pleasant 'hello' before moving on. Did it make him feel any better about being hated? Nope. Hopefully Rains Sunday can just be a good tutor and nab himself a teaching job somewhere; Rains Sunday went to college while he was in prison, learned how to teach, and got his degree during Rehab.
No one would hire an addict on parole, however the skills Rains Sunday can offer. Rains Sunday didn't let this discourage him from getting clean, however. He worked hard to get where he is and he's not going to ruin that for himself, he's not going back to prison or rehab. No matter how good a hit from some weed would help his mood, which it wouldn't legally, he has antidepressants for that. And those are legal.
Rains Sunday approached his home, which is in town center, to find his mailbox crooked and bent. No, it wasn't vandalism. It was the Mail-Mare delivering mail and face planting into his box of mail, what fun she must have had. Rains Sunday rolled his eyes and dug out the key to his house from his hoodie, he unlocked the door, and entered inside. He passed his living room by making a left into the kitchen, then the sink, and then finally to the fridge.
It's still early morning, but Rains Sunday took a sip from a bottle of clear liquid.
Water.
Rains Sunday placed the water bottle back into the fridge, he dug around the contents before pulling out what seemed to be mouthwash. Rains Sunday rubbed his snout, wondering what in Celestia's name was he doing to put this in the fridge? Rains Sunday opened the cap of the blue mouth wash and shot his head back in disgust, it wasn't mouth wash. It was sour milk and food coloring.
"For someone who pranks himself, I do a pretty good job," Rains Sunday praised himself before pouring the contents down his sink. His sweet tooth still bothered him mentally, so he dug through the cabinets to find something sweet to munch on before class. What was his roll in the classroom?
He was an assistant teacher, yes that's now a profession Rains Sunday made. He helps around the classroom and teaches the foals whenever Cheerilee can't, which is almost close to never, and tutors students when they are close to failing the class. Basically Snips and Snails, sometimes the Cutie Mark Crusaders, and almost rarely Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon.
