You are currently sitting atop a lush green hill next to your closest friend in the world. The wind blows gently through your hair-colored hair, occasionally gifting you with a stray leaf or two. The sun is partly obscured by grey clouds, leaving you just enough light for your view to be perfect. You adjust your telescope ever so slightly, being rewarded with the sharpest possible image. This moment could not be more splendid.
"Anon?" your most colorful and completely familiar friend speaks up. "Why are you looking through a rolled up newspaper?"
"Rapidash, please. I'm trying to concentrate here," you whisper, twisting the knob to zoom in a bit.
“Argh! For the last time, that’s not my name!”
“Okay, sure, whatever. Just let me focus, the hot one is about to put her clothes on.”
“The hot one?” Rapidash looks at your telescope pointed in the direction of Carousel Boutique. “Are you talking about Rarity?”
You nod once in confirmation. “Yeah, Dairy—the squiggly one with the nice legs.”
“Her name is Rarity.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You don’t know any of our names, do you?”
What? Did she really just say that? How could your best friend accuse you of such a thing? “What the hell are you talking about? The four of you-”
“Six.”
“The six of you are my best friends. Of course I know your names.”
Silly little Rapidash. Clearly, she thinks you don't care about her enough. She's easily the most insecure of your little group. Underneath her confident facade lies a mare that needs constant support and encouragement, which you are more than happy to provide.
“But you haven’t used mine a single time!” she exclaims.
“That’s cause your name is super gay,” you point out. It's not the only thing super gay about her. Seriously, how far in the closet do you have to be to dye your hair every color of the rainbow and still claim to have a boyfriend? You've never even seen this "Hedge Hog" guy. He's probably made up.
“I still don’t see how that’s an insult,” she muttered.
“Gee, I wonder why?" you remark innocently. "And I never said it was an insult. You just assumed, you fucking homophone.”
"Hey! I'm not a homophone! ...What's a homophone?"
Typical self-hating homophone. Doesn't even know how hateful she is. "You'll learn about it when you're older."
"I'm older than you!"
"You're also a homophone. Would you like to make any more obvious statements?"
"Ugh! Buck you, Anon. I'm going to get Tw- the rest of our friends. We'll see if you actually know our names." She flies off, her multi-colored trail briefly blocking the view between you and your target. When it clears, you place the telescope back to your eye.
"Whoa, mama," you breathe. You tuned in at the perfect time—Dairy is just starting the show. "Yeah, put that hat on, girl. Right on your head, just like that. God, that's so fucking hot."
Rapidash suddenly reappears in your vision, this time in the doorway of the boutique. She makes a few gestures, probably complaining about how Dairy's carpet and furniture don't match, then zooms off to ruin somewhere else. You turn your attention back to Dairy, but it's too late. She's already taken the hat off and started out the door.
Fan-fucking-tastic. She was about to get to the good part, too. Now you'll never know what she looks like with her shirt on. Looks like you'll have to use a bag of marshmallows, a dish towel, and your imagination tonight. Again.
Directly behind you, a loud popping noise suddenly goes off, causing you to nearly shit your pants. Fortunately, you went this morning before getting in the shower, so you only pee a little.
"Jesus Joe Miller Christ! Warn me when you do that, you fucking psycho!" you warmly greet your purplest friend.
"Love you too, Anon. Now what's this I hear about you and names?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.
"I must admit, I'm rather curious as well," Dairy calls from a short distance away. She trots up to the two of you, her fake eyelashes catching the light in the most arousing way possible.
You open your mouth to explain just how much you want to tie her down and dress her up in every single piece of clothing you own and even more you don't, but the sound of hoofsteps catches your ear. You turn to see four ponies making their way up to the top of your hill, three walking and one flying.
Wow. That faggot actually did it. You didn't think she was being serious.
"Okay, Anon," Rapidash says angrily. "Since you're such a good friend, would you mind telling me the names of these lovely mares?"
God, she's so fucking gay.
You smirk confidently and point to each pony, from right to left, "Dairy, Rapidash, Don't Know, Pinkeye, Dat Ass, and Sunset."
They all stare at you in stunned silence, clearly awed by your incredible memory. You simply bask in the stares, soaking up their adoration and desire.
"Well..." Pinkeye hesitantly breaks the silence. "He almost got mine right? Kind of..."
Don't Know buries her head in Pinkeye's mane and starts shaking. She must be having a seizure, probably from some pony disease or cancer. Meanwhile, Sunset looks slightly less autistic than normal. She's most likely going through withdrawal—poor girl just can't stay away from vaccines.
Dat Ass silently shakes her head, turns, and walks back down the hill, giving you a fantastic view of the back of her neck beneath that glorious stetson. Dairy harrumphs and follows behind her shortly after.
"Buck you, Anon. Just... buck you," Rapidash whispers, on the verge of tears because faggots have to be dramatic about everything.
"Geez, it's not like I'm dying. You'll see me tomorrow, you know."
She doesn't want to admit that she's gonna miss you, so she immediately flies away. You understand; sometimes it's hard to be honest with your friends.
Author's Note
Had a free hour, shat out a thing, then posted it. Then I wrote this. Enjoy.
