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                        The Monster                        
                     -by Clairvoyant-                      
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                          "S'up."                          
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"S'up."
“Dad! There's a monster in my closet!” Swift Justice rolled his eyes and got out of bed, leaving his wife to check on their son. This whole ‘monster in the closet’ and ‘monster under the bed’ thing is getting out of hoof. He really needs to invest in a night-light or something.
“I’m coming… I’m coming.” Swift muttered, walking down the dark hallway at a slow pace, taking his time to get to his son’s bedroom. It's not as if he doesn't love his son, of course he does, but being woken up at midnight is something he doesn't love. He loves sleeping with his wife next to him, that's for sure.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his hoof, finally arriving at his son’s room. Pushing it open with his hoof, he was met with the sight of his son, Swift Cheers, cowering under his blankets. Sighing, he approached the closet, opening it up and showing it to his son, same as always.
“See? No monster. Now-” Swift Justice was interrupted when his son whimpered, pointing a hoof at the opened closet. Rolling his eyes, he turned to look inside. “What? There's not-”
Sitting inside the closet was a tall green creature with a black suit over its body. In its claws was a long, slender pole that was filled to the brim with smoke, a green looking mush being set on fire at the bottom through a smaller pipe. The monster looked up at Swift Justice, coughing slightly before it waved a claw at him.
“S’up.” You said, slightly irritated at being discovered. You are Anon, and you wished you had more weed. Ever since Twilight kicked you out of her Crystal Palace© Playset© for making it smell like weed, you had to find a new joint to smoke your joint.
“Wha… Wha…. Er, uuuhhh… What are you doing in my son’s closet?” The stallion asked you, his expression changing from shock to confusion to accusatory. You blinked at horse. What does it fucking look like?
“What does it fucking look like? I was trying to get high before your rude ass barged in here. I swear, you horses and thinking you can mess with a man’s time…” You mutter, rolling over and clutching the bong to your chest, trying to escape the stallion by falling asleep. But, as always, you instead laid there as the stallion breathed down your neck.
“That still doesn't explain why you're in here and not somewhere.” The horse said to you, making you shake your head. What better place is there to get high than inside a kid’s closet? You swear, are these ponies stupid or something?
“Heh, yeah, it does. Now, fuck off, you're cramping my style with that ‘Hey Jim, file those reports yet?’ voice.” You exclaimed, mocking the stallion’s voice. Behind you, you heard the horse huff and puff. It's so fucking easy to mess with them.
“I-I don't sound like that! You! You big, ugly alien!” Oooh shit, it's on grandpa, it's roasting time. You sat up and stepped out of the closet, the stallion cowering before you. You finally took in all of the details of the stallion, a smirk forming on your face. He was purple with a yellow mane and yellow eyes. He wore small rounded glasses and had shitty slippers on all of his hooves. You rubbed your hands together gleefully.
Roast Mode: Engaged.
“Boy, get outta’ here with that piss-colored hair, that plum-colored coat, and those shit ass slippers,” You bent down and patted them with your hand. “What. Are. These. Seriously, my boy, you need kill your veggie-platter looking ass.” You shook your head, standing up.
“Swift, what's goin-” Oh cool, Cheerilee. She looked shocked for a moment before she rolled her eyes at the sight of you. “Anon… what are you doing in my house at midnight?” She tiredly asked, yawning afterwards, an unamused look on her face.
“I was smoking some bomb-ass weed before this prick barged in here and ruined it. You did not tell me you married this walking-generic.” You exclaimed, waving a hand at whatever his name is, Swift Strokes or something. Maybe they named their son Swift Jerks. Father like son, after all.
“That prick is my husband and I would like if you left my house.” Cheerilee demanded, pinching the bridge of her nose with her muzzle. You stood there before you threw your arms into the air.
“Where else… Am I… Going… To… Smoke… My… Bomb-ass weed, Miss Cheerilee?! You know damn well that Twiggy-Piggy kicked me out of her little girl’s playset house.” You inquired, raising an eyebrow at her. She shook her head and sighed, soon becoming frustrated.
“You can’t be smoking bomb-ass weed in my son’s closet. Find somewhere else.” She said, pushing you out of her son’s bedroom and towards the front door. You held onto your bong as you pouted. This is bullshit.
“Miss Cheerilee, oh please take pity on mah soooouuuulll!” You sang, placing a hand over your heart and closing your eyes. The mare pushed you out of her front door and left it open to say one more thing.
“Fuuuuccckkk Oooofffff, Aaannnnoooonnn!” She sang, before slamming the door shut in your face. Damn, girl has got some lungs. You took your bong and walked over to the Crystal Palace©. Er, Twilight’s House. Yeah right. This got cash cow written all over it.
You knocked on the door, waiting for a minute until a disheveled Twilight opened the door, rubbing her eyes and yawning loudly. “Anon… What are you doing here? It's late.” Time for sweet little lies. Todd Howard has taught you so very well.
Dropping to your knees, you gripped Twilight’s shoulders and put on a begging face, whatever the hell that looks like. “Please, Twilight! I need somewhere to live! I’ve been starving for days… I-I've done things,” You chucked your bong and heard it smash through a window. “Look, see? I’ll even stop smoking!”
“Anon, it's been a day… Fine. You better not smoke in here ever again… Now, goodnight.” Twilight let you in and fucked off to sleep like a princess. Grinning, you slipped a bag of weed out of your suit and another bong. Any good Anon always packs an extra weed smoking device.
You settled in on a balcony, watching the sky as you lit the bong, the smell of weed filling the air as you finally achieved what you were aiming to do a half hour ago.
High as a kite.jpg