"Welcome to the Flowered Mare."

Enter Cheerilee, the cheery and amiable teacher in charge of running the local schoolhouse, where young minds are shaped into brilliant, strong, intellectual thinkers. Teaching fillies and colts about the world around them was something she took great pride in doing, as well as building good relationships with her students; relationships that she hope would last forever, for as long as they live. In the past, there have been former students who come back and thank her for everything she did for them. She would nurture and guide them as they were her own.

Perhaps that is why she hasn't had foals of her own, yet. Every young one that graduates from her school left a lasting impression on her, and vice versa. Although there were those who were difficult, they always came out clean on the other end, ready to take on the world and whatever came their way.

"Hey there, Cheer," the violet-maned bar mare Berry greeted, wiping down the bar. "Jeez, you look like shit."

At least, that's what she told herself in the mornings.

"Tell me about it," Cheerilee grumbled in an unusually dreary tone. Heavy bangs hung beneath her eyes like overfilled sandbags; her emerald irises splotched with redness, as if she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in years. Her gait was slow and deliberate, brow furrowed as a frown wrinkled her muzzle, lips concealing those shiny, pearly whites. Her mane was heavily disheveled, even though she may have tried to keep it under control. "Just give me what I always get, please?"

"Comin' up," Berry grabbed a bottle of vodka from the shelf behind and placed a glass on the bar. Once she filled it up halfway with the highly alcoholic liquid, she grabbed a bottle of cranberry juice and topped off the glass, sliding it over to Cheerilee, who had just taken a seat on the leather swivel chair. "Here ya are. Drink up."

Cheerilee didn't say anything back, but instead nodded, grabbing her beverage with the fetlock of her leg and immediately down the glass in one swift chug. Slamming it back down onto the table, she tapped the glass expectantly, wordlessly asking for another one.

Berry blinked once before making her another drink with a reverent shrug of her shoulders. She filled it up just as quickly with practiced ease, only for her patron to down it all within one huge gulp. At first glance, Berry might have been confused, but remembered that it was Saturday night. Which could only mean one thing:

"Rough week, Cheer?" the bar mare asked, empathetic.

"You have no clue," she replied in a low, defeated voice. "My mouth is sore from grading all those papers. I wouldn't have to make so many marks if they would just retain the material." Downing yet another shot, she sighed and hung her head, eyes filled with sorrow and regret. "But no, they're all more concerned with who got with who in the back of the school or whether or not Sugar Cream is a filly fooler or if Rumble diddles colts. I guess that's just so much more damn important than paying attention to what I have to say."

Berry poured her yet another drink, which was immediately downed by the frustrated educator.

"These kids, Berry," Cheerilee groaned, dropping her elbows onto the table while gently rubbing her throbbing temples. "They're not ready to graduate. And I know for a fact Filthy Rich, Applejack, Rarity, and pretty much ever Celestia-damned parent of my afternoon class will try to get me sacked if I fail them all. Seriously! It's not my fault they won't pay attention! Luna, nothing I learned in college could ever prepare me for them. I've tried everything from hosting a cart wash wearing a tight bathing suit, to even bribing them with free cases of cider if they paid attention."

Pausing mid pour, Berry stared at her. Flabbergasted at what she was hearing.

"You mean you-"

"Yes!" Cheerilee exclaimed, throwing her hooves up into the air as if Celestia herself was listening in. "Yes, I tried giving the kids alcohol as a bribing token. What else do you want me to do? Nothing else works."

"Have you tried, like, I dunno..." Berry allowed her words to linger, waving a hoof in the air. "Maybe being a little more nice with them?"

Cheerilee scoffed and shook her head. "Please, I give them an inch and they take a mile. I try to coax them, but they don't listen. I try to yell, and they give me back sass. I've run out of ideas. Thank the Goddesses that this is the last week. If there was ever one thing I could tell you for sure, they're not ready for the real world. Especially poor Scootaloo. Bless her heart for trying, but she's just as clueless as Rainbow Dash."

"Most of them don't need to be ready for the real world," Berry shrugged. "Diamond Cunt and Silver-Spoon-Up-Her-Ass are both trust fund brats who have mommy and daddy's money to rely on. Rumble is probably gonna go join the military or something, boy's pretty strong I'll give him that. Then Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle got their sisters to work with. As for the others, I guarantee they probably won't make it far."

A harsh note was struck in Cheerilee's heart. "I don't want them to fail, Berry," Cheerilee countered. "But I can't hold them back or I'll get eaten alive by the lynch mob known as their parents."

"Well come next week, they won't be your problem anymore," Berry assured, wiping down the bar. "And those are on the house by the way. Only because you're my favorite cousin."

"Thanks, B," Cheerilee smiled graciously with sad eyes. Her beloved relative only giggled before moving over to the opposite side of the bar to help another soul in need of counsel with a bottle of liquor. The mare played with her glass, staring at the distressed pony looking back at her in the reflection. Prior to coming here tonight, she'd actually requested a rendezvous with a friend. It was moments like these where she needed company while she sulked and reflected on the ill-made decisions she made that got her here.

However, would she do it all again?"

The bell suspended above the entrance rung, and in walked a tall figure. Crouching just below the overhang, Anon casually strolled into the bar, nodding at a few ponies who sent greetings his way. A friendly grin adorned his chiseled features as he kept his hands in the pockets of his blue hoodie. His sneakers slid easily on the polished wooden floor. The pants he wore were faded from repetitive use, a small tear in one of the knees.

His eyes lit up as he spotted his dark pink friend sitting at the bar. "Sup, Cheer?" he greeted as he approached her.

The previously depressed teacher suddenly lit up like the sky during Equestria Day. Her whole form seemed to straighten up along with her mane; eyes were now full of life and cheer like she was supposed to be.

"Anon!" she exclaimed, throwing her hooves over his broad shoulders for a tight hug. Giggling, she planted a kiss on his cheek and he returned the gesture. Happiness and relief swelled inside her chest like a balloon ready to pop. "Oh, I'm so glad you came!"

"Of course, did you expect any less?" Anon teased, taking a seat next to her.

"How could I ever?" she said, laughing. For the next few minutes, they chatted about this and that, asking about each other's days and what not. And as they spoke, their area was becoming filled with empty bottles (mostly from Anon who could drink any pony in that world under the table) while Cheerilee kept having her glass filled with different drinks ranging from spicy vodka to warm whiskey.

It was very well close to midnight. Both of them had been drinking and talking for what seemed like hours. In truth, they had much catching up to do. The last time they got together like this was at least a month ago. Cheerilee, though she tried to keep up, was slurring most of her words, but she still managed to keep herself up straight and coherent.

"Anon, I'm reallllly glad you came," she said, now struggling to speak. "Honestly, you're the greatest."

"Hey, thanks," Anon chuckled, taking a sip of his ale. "Anything for you beautiful."

She blinked at him once before flushing heavily. Her already rosy cheeks were shaded darker red as she recoiled from the compliment. "Oh, you just say the schweetest thinnnngss," she said, laughing while she drew out her words. "But you know what? Can I ask you something?"

Polishing off his current drink, he set it down gently on the oakwood table and turned his gaze towards his friend and drinking companion. If there was any two things Cheerilee was good at, it was teaching and drinking. Left up to inference, he would guess that the field of teaching often drove one to drink quite a bit. Thus, her high tolerance. He'd seen some so-called badasses of Ponyville like Rainbow Dash clock out after just a few drinks.

"What's up?"

"Look, I, like, reeeallly need a big favor from you," she began, her tone becoming serious despite the laughs they've been having. "This week is, like, the last week, right?"

"Uh huh?" Anon motioned for her to continue.

"And, honestly, like, I just can't anymore on Mondays."

"Okay?"

"Everypony I've asked has just said no!" she pawed at the bar table, pouting adorably. "I'm so stressed out and I need your help, Anon." Turning to him with pleading eyes, Anon gushed internally at those big, green gems. His cheeks burned up as he struggled to try and find words. For quite some time, Anonymous had taken a strong liking to the beautiful and bodacious mare. He loved nearly everything about her: her adorable smile, her hypnotic eyes, her shiny coat and mane, and especially her selfless attitude. This mare was the first real friend he'd made over the past few months. Now that he has come to terms with the feelings he harbored for her, perhaps this favor she had for him would score just enough points to reach the goal he's been chasing after for a long time:

Her wonderful heart.

Gently grasping her hoof, he looked straight into the green pools of her eyes. "Anything you need me for," Anon began, putting on his warmest, "I'm right here for you, sugar plum." The nickname elicited a giggle from Cheerilee; he took to calling her sugar plum since her coat color, oddly enough, reminded him of plums.

"Then, I guess I'll cut to the chase," she leaned in close to him, "I need a really big favor, Anon. Like, a reaaallly big one."

"I'm all ears." With how close their faces were, he liked where this was going.

"You see, like, I need an extra day off this Monday," she explained, "because, like, I just need it, right?"

"Right," he nodded.

"Good, so, like, here's what I need you to do," she leaned in closer, their noses nearly touching. "I need you to watch over my afternoon class."

Suddenly, the record inside the jukebox playing smooth jazz music scratched loudly, causing most of the patrons inside the bar to cover their ears from the painful noise. A bar worker shouted an apology before tending to the machine. Meanwhile, Anon's expectations, along with his heart, were shattered into billions of pieces. His jaw dropped and he stared at her with a look that would cause others to worry about his mental health.

"Your... afternoon class?" Anon asked, hoping that a mischievous bug flew into his ear. "You want me to watch over your afternoon class? At the school? On Monday?"

"Yes!" she said, moaning in relief. "They're my worst class and I just, like, need a break from them! Just for one day so I can just a teensy bit more rest before I go back!"

"Well, I mean, I dunno, Cheer," Anon said, rubbing the back of his neck neurotically. She placed a hoof on his knee, that same pleading look returning.

"Anon, I've never asked you for much, ever," she began, "but I just need this one favor from you. If you could do this for me, I'd forever be in your debt!" A lightbulb suddenly flickered to life in the dusty old attic known as Anon's brain.

Forever in my debt, eh? He didn't like taking advantage of people, but Cheerilee was right in front of him, literally leaving her gratitude at the mercy of his will. Maybe he could squeeze a legitimate date out of her from this.

"So, you'd do something for me in return?" he asked, eyebrow raised and visibly interested. A little smirk snake its way across his features. Internally, he was a little disappointed with this, but if anything, it at least brought up another opportunity. Perhaps if he played his cards right and pulled this off, Cheerillee could end up in his arms faster than she could say "substitute teacher".

"Of course, anything!"

"Alright then," he said, leaning an elbow on the bar. "I'm listening."

Monday morning came faster than he could have anticipated. Unfortunately for Anon, he decided that a few drinks the night before would not hurt since he knows half the stuff they serve is akin to boiled water, he would be relatively unaffected. However, because of a dare offered to him by Rainbow Dash, the lightest of weights, Anon tried a few shots of Frozen Temptation, a sort of liquor concocted in the northern regions of Equestria near the Crystal Empire. Unbeknownst to Anon, he thought it sounded cool to try (because Mama Anon didn't raise no bitch), despite Berry's warnings of its strength being able to "Put an angry elder dragon down for a three year nap".

Upon waking up the next morning, he found himself in his bed with three other mares whose names he didn't bother remembering. After recovering, albeit slightly, all of Sunday, our intrepid pseudo educator was at about seventy percent ready for the long day.

The morning was humid, the grass lining the dirt road heading for the schoolhouse soaked with dew. A dull sheen emanated from the wet grass as the sun finally peeked out from low-hanging clouds. Wishing he could convince Celestia to put the sun back down for a few hours, Anon took a large gulp from his metallic coffee mug he bought from a mule he had met back in the market. Luckily, his race has some interesting trinkets for him to sell. Oddly enough, his little collection included an insulated coffee mug. No matter the circumstances, he was thankful.

Downing another swig of the warm, milky liquid, a heavy sigh escaped him as the front of his head pounded like a bass drum at a Metallica concert. He drew closer to the school, which was currently empty.

Make sure you get there really early at around seven o'clock to make sure everything is ready. I always write down the curriculum for the day and place it in my desk. Don't worry about memorizing everything and having to put it up on the board. Just follow my lesson plan.

Cheerilee's words from Saturday night floated around in his head; he barely heard over the dull ringing noise in his ears. When he left his cottage, it was around 6:30 in the morning. Not wanting to walk three miles from the other side of town, he flagged down a Goober driver and was taxied close to the school. If memory serves him, the students will begin arriving at around eight. Much to his frustration, however, Cheerilee was able to convince to watch over her morning class as well.

Thank God they wouldn't be much trouble. He trusted Cheerilee. She said they were a good bunch and he believed her. And when this extra strength painkiller kicked in, about ninety nine percent of his problems would be gone. The one percent being the allegedly shitty kids he'd be dealing with later on.

"Finally here," he said, pushing his way past the colorful playground and up to the main entrance of the school. The place was not too big. The whole building itself was about the size of an average children's day care, which, when seen from a simpleton's standpoint, this school basically was. In front of him was a long hallway with two doors on either side leading to different rooms. From what Cheerilee told him, the second door on the left was her office, while the other three were the janitor's closet, an equipment room, and a storage room for furniture. Straight ahead was the main classroom.

Much to his expectations, it was filled with desks and a big chalkboard at the front. All around were the typical classroom decorations, with posters promoting things such as not being a daft cunt, a stubborn asshole, or a dumb shit (not literally). Others demonstrated simple techniques in math and writing; others held quotes from great figures of the past. The sight made him sick to his stomach. He never liked school, especially primary school, when he was back on Earth. The fact that he worked as a teacher for a few years was as ironic as ironic could get. Not to mentions, he was only doing this as a favor to his friend, and to possibly get the opportunity to speak French between her legs.

Passing through the threshold into this sanctum of teaching, Anon set down his coffee mug and shifted through the papers hidden inside the wooden desk sitting in front of the invisible class. A few moments passed and he managed to pull out a manila folder with today's date written on the tab. He spared a glance at the clock.

"Perfect, it's seven-thirty," he grumbled, massaging the bridge of his nose. He only had thirty minutes to prepare himself mentally, physically, and shit, even spiritually. When dealing with kids, you never know how you'll feel at the end of the day.

You don't have to teach them or anything like that. Just make sure you introduce yourself, call roll, and then let them get to work on the stuff I planned out for them. Oh! But before you do, make sure you write what they have to do on the board so they can have a little reminder. They'll bring their books with them. What you have to do is real easy. Trust me, it's easier than babysitting.

Considering the fact you had to carry Pinkie's thick rump home because of how her frustration with the Cake twins led to an all night drinking party, you would politely beg to fucking differ. Once he'd written down everything on the board for the students, most of which revolved around writing about something they've read a few days prior, he attempted to sit in the chair behind the desk (which seemed a little too small for him), only for damn thing to snap from the base, causing him to fall backwards.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, his feet coming out from under him. The tie he wore smacked his face as he fell, his black slacks riding up his legs as they dangled in the air, revealing his plaid socks. "Fuck, fuck, fucker, fuck, fuck." Poor Anon fought hard to get back up on his feet. The stupid chair almost literally came apart at the seams. It was practically made out of cardboard. Either that, or he needs to hit the gym. "Come on you cunting shit fuck!" With a mighty heave, he was able to twist his body out of the smoldering wreckage of the broken chair. Now he lay on the ground, huffing and puffing madly in an effort to catch his breath. Holy balls, he's out of shape.

Although, in his fierce battle, he failed to hear the pattering of tiny hooves entering the classroom. Scrambling to his knees, he peeked his head over the desk to see a dreadfully confused group of students. Some of them giggled, seeing such a strange creature cursing in such strange tongues. Goddammit. Class has barely started and already he's ruined their innocence.

"What does 'cunting' mean?" a bright pink filly asked, tilting her head in adorable fashion. Thank whatever god was listening that their parents don't come in with them.

"Uh, nothing, don't repeat that!" Anon asked, rubbing his sore cranium. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Cotton Candy," she replied, "but my fweinds call me Cotty!" Goddamn she's adorable.

"Right, Cotty, mind taking your seat, please?" The cute little filly nodded happily and scurried over to her desk while the others followed suit. Soon enough, more and more students walked in. Anon stood at the door and herded them all to their desks, making sure they did so in an orderly fashion. A good number of them were laughing and giggling as they walked in. The noise might as well have been rusty nails rattling in a glass jar.

Getting them to their seats isn't the easiest thing in the world. The morning class is full of young ones, so getting them to do what you say is easy. Believe it or not, they respond well to direction, but getting them sit still will be a challenge.

"Wow, you're tall, mistah!" one of the kids commented as they walked in. Anon cracked a smile in reply, motioning for them to keep moving along. Eventually, and that's a big eventually, Anon succeeded in getting the kids to their seats.

Just speak in a polite, yet demanding voice. They'll listen I promise.[i/]

"Guys, can you quiet down?" No response from any of them. Just more talking and giggling.

"Uh, hello?" Still nothing.

Don't forget: you can't ask them to do anything. Tell them to do it.

"Hey!" he spoke from the diaphragm this time, his voice booming in the medium-size classroom. "Quiet down!" Surely, he got the demanding part down, but the politeness could use some work. Nevertheless, he volunteered for this mess, and he would have to bulldoze through it.

"I'm Mr. Anon, and just uh, well, just look at the board," he said, motioning behind. "So just, make sure you get your books out and do the uh... stuff. Alright?" They stared at him with blank faces, several of them blinking like owls. "Good. You know what to do so... do it?" The amount of awkwardness in the room could be cut with butter knife. However, the kids seemed to get the picture and pulled out their pencils, books, and other stuff they might need.

"Well that was easy", Anon thought, sighing. With no seat left for him to rest on, leaning on the back wall would do. Cheerilee requested for him to monitor their work and to make sure they stayed on task.

The last thing I want is for them to fall behind.

Eh, that would come later. For now, he needed a small break.

Little did he know, however, that the worst had yet to come.

The afternoon class eventually took place. There was an obvious difference in the age. He noticed the kids were a lot taller and in the later stages of adolescence. And with that brings more belligerence. Anon had a harder time getting them to settle into their seats and quieted down than with the little ones. Specifically with a group of three fillies whom he immediately recognized as Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo.

He knew who they were because you never really forget the day you get ambushed by three tiny horses while they screeched something about crusading. It shocked him that they didn't shout "DEUS VULT!".

Finally, they were all seated, but apparently the art of closing mouth has been forgotten.

"Quiet down, guys," he demanded, standing in front of them. "Quiet down!" Still they ignored him. Left with few options, and now that that painkillers have worn off, he resorted to drastic measures. "Hey! Shut your damn mouths!" To his shock and awe, it actually worked. The whole class was now dead silent. So quiet you could hear the mice banging in the walls. "Good, now I'm Mr. Anon-"

"Uh, who are you?" an annoyingly sassy and particularly cuntish voice spoke up. "What are you, an alien?" Oh no she didn't. No she fucking didn't. She is not doing this. There is no way. Calmly straightening his tie (with a storm brewing within), he turned his piercing glare towards a pink filly with a purple-white mane who sat with her hooves crossed. He immediately knew who this was.

Diamond Tiara, otherwise known as Diamond Cunt.

Yeah, it'll take a lot to deal with her. Just, I dunno, try to cut a deal with her or something.

"I'm sorry," Anon said in a faux apologetic tone, "what's your name again, sweetheart?"

"Diamond Tiara, duh," she said, rolling her eyes. "Everypony knows who I am." Seems like he's found this world's version of a "Stacy".

"Right, Diamond Cu- Tiara," he repeated, "can you do me a favor?"

"What?"

"Shut your gob!" he yelled right in her cunty little face. This prompted the rest of the class to start giggling, even though this was probably a far cry from how Cheerilee runs the class. Tiara just sat there like he just shat in her scrambled eggs.

"Hey!" the filly sitting next to her chimed in. Yet another ballsy challenger has appeared. "You can't talk to her that way!" The silver filly with glasses pouted up at him, trying to stand up for her friend, who looked thoroughly confused from the situation. Brave little one she is.

"Well, as it turns out little missy," he leaned down close to her muzzle, "I can. And you don't seem to get the picture." The two of them decided to disturb the shit gods. And when the shit gods are pissed, they will send Anonymous to do their will. "As you knobs are unaware, I am your substitute for Ms. Cheerilee today." Anon stalked between the rows of the desks slowly, taking menacing and deliberate steps.

"From what she's told me, you little monsters are quite the handful," he continued his little spiel as if he was a drill sergeant about to chew out his recruits like a pack of Big League Chew. "The way I see it, I don't really appreciate how you've been treating her."

"Now what's that s'posed ta mean?" Anon's ears nearly exploded upon hearing the incredibly scratchy voice of an orange-maned, green coated unicorn colt. He looked up at the frustrated sub with a look that reminded Anon of a mentally disabled puppy.

"Yeah, we never hurt Ms. Cheerilee," yet another rebellious, voice that sounded like a slow Ray Romano added.

With how much complaining his friend has done, you'd think they'd have caught on by now.

"Oh, really?" he could feel his chest burn with frustration at these kids. Not even ten minutes in and they're already pissing him off. How does she pull it off? "Well, if it wasn't for you all, then maybe Ms. Cheerilee would have had the energy to come in today, but nope! Y'all decided to be little snots and frustrate her to no end. Lemme tell you all something!" He stepped in front of the whole class. "That ain't gonna fly with me!"

"You can't just come in here and start telling us what to do!" Diamond Tiara countered defiantly. "You're just a weird, freaky, alien substitute! You can't tell us what to do!"

Oh, this filly really wants to test him? "Excuse me?" Anon said, placing his hands on his hips to make himself look bigger. "Did I give you permission to bitch?"

"No..."

"Precisely!" Anon declared, clapping his hands. "Which reminds me, I got a few rules for you kids. Number one! No talking out of turn." he turned and wrote it in big letters on the board. "Number two! No complaining, crying, bitching, moaning, or whining!" He made sure to look at Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon as he wrote this. "And number three~!"

Anon paused and held the last note of the word, hand hovering over the chalkboard.

"Just have fun, ya know?" he finished writing on the board and turned back towards the class.

"Does that include-"

"I SAID NO TALKING OUT OF TURN!" Anon swiftly grabbed an eraser from the board and flung it at the poor student who dared challenge Anon's rules of the classroom. The frightened colt who spoke up narrowly dodged the eraser, but closed his mouth and sat straight up with his hooves laying flat on the desk."Right, now, with that out of the way, you all know what to do with your books. Just follow the other stuff I wrote on the board for you, alright? Any questions?" Of course, seeing as how everyone in the class was shaking in their seats, no one had the stones to ask anyway. "Okay, then get to work!"

The lot of them flinched from his harsh voice and they all quickly began getting to work.

"Ms. Tiara, Ms. Spoon, do we have a problem?" Anon asked once more. The Cunt Sisters apparently had a hard time getting to work since they sat with hooves crossed. Tiara had a look that could probably split a boulder, while her sibling spawn pouted along. "Hmm, looks like we have a couple contestants."

Anon sneered as he pulled out a big, white cone hat with the word "Dork" written on it.

"So!" he said, placing the hat on his desk. "Who wants to wear the Dork hat and sit in the corner?"

Silver Spoon instantly bitched out, pulling out her school supplies and going about her business. However, Tiara decided to stay in the game even though she was losing about ten to zero.

"You can't make me wear that!"

"Can't I?" Anon moved over to her desk and placed the hat down on top of her head. A few snickers escaped the muzzles of some of the students, specifically from the Crusaders. "Awww, well whaddaya know? Looks like I can! Now, would you kindly go take your seat in the Dorksville right over there?" He pointed towards a secluded corner next to the board where, unironically, the trashcan was located. Funnily enough, Anon got sick during lunch break and heaved a good liter's worth of puke. Oh, and he forgot his PB & J sandwich was accidentally mixed with spoiled tuna so he had to throw it away.

"It smells over here!" Tiara whined, covering her muzzle with her hooves.

"Face the wall there, Tiara," he ordered, his back turned to her as he pointed at the wall. Oddly enough still, she actually listened. Seems as though an extremely firm hand is the key to handling kids who have no idea what order or authority is. "Okay, now before you continue, I'd like ask you all a question- HEY! You with the nose! Quit screwing around back there!" He saw some unknown colt and filly giggling in the back; they stopped, but it did nothing to soothe his worsening headache.

"'Kay, so, lemme ask you a little something," he repeated, "I have a hangover, and I have the runs. Can anyone tell me what that means?" Not a single hoof raised. "C'mon. Gimme a sign here." Apple Bloom held a sign with a question mark. "Not literally Apple Bloom." She lowered the sign with a trembling lip. Finally, Scootaloo, who was seated a couple of desks away from her, raised her hoof. "Yes, you in the orange."

"It means you're drunk and you like to run?" she guessed, looking like a confused puppy.

"No, it means I was drunk yesterday, but good guess," he chuckled, "as for the other thing, it means that I have to visit the bathroom every ten minutes or so. Jeez, that's the last time I try spicy tacos, lemme tell ya." The class could not have been more lost than they are right now. They looked on as Anon rubbed his upset belly and let out a huge yawn. "Look, you all are obviously way too uninformed for your age, so I'm gonna spend the next few hours whipping you little whippersnappers into shape? Capisce?"

Still more confused stares.

"Ugh," he rolled his eyes. "Looks like we'll have to start from square one."

"Now, repeat after me!" Anon demanded. He looked thoroughly exhausted; his hair tousled, tie undone, and shirt pulled out from his trousers. "Hangover means drunk yesterday!"

"Hangover means drunk yesterday!"

Anon moved his pointer to the next phrase. "Beer before liquor, never sicker!"

"Beer before liquor, never sicker!" they recited.

"Taylor Swift is a narcissistic pile of trash!"

"Taylor Swift is a narcissistic pile of trash!"

"Good!" Anon chuckled, feeling more proud than the time he ate thirty cold hot dogs without puking. Instantly, that is. Yeah, the mess was quite a sight. "You people seem to be picking this up. Only took about three and a half hours. Silver Spoon?"

"Yes, Sensei?" she asked, nearly mispronouncing the word.

Anon clapped and grinned at the young filly. His whole life he'd been wanting to be called that.

"I'm glad you remembered. Gold star for you." He pulled out a sticker and stuck it to her forehead. It wasn't a gold star mind you, but a crappy "you tried" sticker he got from a joke shop. "Can you tell me what to do in the circumstance of nursing a hangover?"

"Extra strength painkillers."

"Aye," he nodded, hands on his hips.

"Wear a pair of sunglasses."

"What kind?"

"The cool, unsuspicious kind."

"Good."

"And if all else fails, don't promise to come into work the next day."

"Precisely!" Anon cheer loudly, throwing his hands up in the air. "Give us a round of stomps and cheers for Ms. Spoon!" The students stomped and cheered for their classmate, who looked genuinely proud of herself.

"Okay, good, now I have a couple of shout outs for you guys," Anon said, rubbing his hands together. "Apple Bloom, I love how you were able to tell the difference between a lager and a stout. Good work there." Apple Bloom giggled in response. "Rumble, you displayed some good awareness on how to avoid thirsty mares at a bar. Great work."

The gray colt crossed his hooves and smirked.

"And finally," his bloodshot eyes floated over to where Diamond Tiara sat. The whole time she hardly said a word, only when Anon asked her a question. Oh, and there were many questions. "Little Miss Diamond Tiara."

He stood over her desk, arms crossed and puffed out his chest to make himself seem larger and more intimidating.

"You didn't show a lot of promise," he scolded, "in fact you had the promise of a crippled race horse. You talked back. You were insubordinate. And you challenged my authority." Diamond Tiara seemed to shrink with each grievance he listed.

"And you wore the Dork hat for a consecutive thirty minutes. Ten minutes for each offense." She was red in the cheeks now. This was going all according to plan. "Now, I wonder how Ms. Cheerilee would react if I told her about your little misbehaviors."

She seemed legitimately frightened. As if he was about to erase her cutie make or something. Give him a few hours, a big ass eraser, and lighter fluid, he could probably pull it off.

"I dunno maybe she'd hold you back a grade," Anon continued, shaking his head in disappointment. "But, with how you performed in class today..." The whole class held their breath.

"You have..." he suddenly grinned brighter than the Celestia's sun on a Monday morning. "Totally redeemed yourself!" He reached over and ruffled her mane, leaving her aghast and the entire class in stitches. "You see?! You see what frickin' happens when you put in a little effort?! Let's hear some cheers for Ms. Tiara!"

The class cheered loudly, stomping and clapping for their snooty classmate.

"Alright, alright, quiet down, now," Anon demanded, fanning himself. Sweat poured down his cheeks. It was hotter than a Mexican restaurant on a Saturday night. The maverick teacher glanced over at the clock and saw it was time to dismiss the class. "Welp, guys. It's time to go for now. Remember what we talked about, alright?"

"Can we tell our parents about the special project you gave us?" Said special project consisted of them bringing him rat traps, toilet paper, and coupons for the local cornerstore. Now he could teach kids and scratch some things off his grocery list. Who said kids were useless?

"No!" he snapped, shaking his head frantically. "Just uh... keep it on the down low, huh? Could you all do that for me? Especially the things I taught you today. Including..?"

"Be nice to Ms. Cheerilee!" they recited perfectly in unison.

"That's right, or Mr. Anon will appear under your bed at night," he said in a threatening, creepy voice. Taking one more look at the clock, it was now time to get the hell outta Dodge.

"Good, so, I'm proud of you, guys," Anon complimented, a tear threatening to sneak out of his reddened eyes. "Now, I'm gonna go sleep off the rest of this hangover, so I'll be seeing you cats on the flip flop later- GAH!"

As he backed his way out of the classroom doing some sort of happy dance, his foot was caught on the door frame. He landed hard on his rear, slamming his head on the wooden floor. His class stared on, intrigued yet worried about their beloved substitute teacher.

"Oh ho ho!" he groaned loudly in pain, rolling around on the floor. "Canada! Oh God my fuckin' ass, I think I just gave birth!" He attempted to get up but the sharp pain in his back kept him down. "Oh fuck me, my back! I think I got a fuckin' hernia!"

Unable to get up, he crawled on his hands and knees towards the door.

"Kids! Don't repeat anything I just said! Fuck... shit... fuck... shit... fuck..." He repeated the mantra of curse words all the way up to the front door, where the parents were waiting to pick up their kids. "Kids! You're dismissed! Your parents are outside! Hey! I'm crawling here! Outta the way, Rarity! Don't you see I'm in pain?!"

Despite the hangover, annoying, adolescent kids, sore ass, and a potential slipped disk, today could have been so much worse. At least the cops weren't called and Anon would be meeting Cheerilee again soon to possibly partake in some evening bedroom hokey pokey.

Author's Note

I don't know why I wrote this. Possibly because I had to deal with teaching kids for a couple weeks and this somehow popped out my head. Yeah some parts may not seem funny, but I got inspiration to write this and I pretty much used it as an excuse to shit on Diamond Tiara. Cause who likes her am I right?

Cool, so... Hope you enjoyed? Boy, I am so getting bad ratings for this

Peace out, y'all and I'll see you later.

• J.