You’re sat in your living room, lazily reading a crappy science-fiction book. You’re just about to finally fall asleep on your sofa when…
*BOOM!*
The thunder outside jolts you awake once more. You look outside. The storm’s been raging on all day, and only seems to be getting worse now that nightfall is approaching. You go over to the window to look around your small garden. Rain seems to be soaking everything. Leaves from trees droop low, oversaturated with pure rainwater. The little pool at the edge of your garden is overflowing, and you wonder if any of the original pool water is even left inside or whether it’s all rainwater now. It’s quite dark outside, but a lightning strike illuminates the area very briefly – but during the brief period of illumination, you notice a small object underneath the small bush at the end of your garden.
You get your coat and umbrella and go outside. You walk down to the bush, which takes much longer than it should have – your lawn seems to have become a swamp due to the rain. You finally reach the bush and brush some leaves and branches aside with your hoof. You see a small orange filly with a purple mane. She doesn’t have a cutie mark yet. She hasn’t seen you yet as her face is buried in her arms in an attempt to escape the noise of the thunderstorm. You recognise her as Scootaloo.
“What the hell?” you quietly mutter. Apparently, it was loud enough for her to hear. She quickly looks up and yelps slightly when she sees you.
“Uh… I’m sorry… I didn’t know this was anyone’s garden… I-I’m leaving…” she says.
“Hey, wait a minute” you say. “Where do you live? I’ll take you there now. Your parents will be worried about you. It must be, like,” you look at the sky. It’s completely obscured by ominous gray rain clouds, but you can tell it’s pretty late into the evening. “Uh… it must be about 9pm, maybe?” you guess.
“No, it’s okay,” Scootaloo says, shakily standing up. “I’ll go home myself…”
“What? Seriously? The floodwaters are really dangerous. Can’t you let me take you home? I’d feel terrible if I let you go alone and something happen-“
She interrupts you by shouting at you. “I DON’T HAVE A HOME!”
…what?
“Uh…” you can’t think of anything to say. “What?”
“I said I don’t HAVE a home!”
“What?” is all you can say. You can’t think of anything else.
“I used to live in Cloudsdale. I can’t fly… I don’t know why. I ran away from Cloudsdale because they force all the pegasi there to become great flyers.”
“Wait… I don’t get what happened. You ran away from flight school in Cloudsdale and came to Ponyville? On your own?” you inquire.
“That’s right…” says Scootaloo.
“So your parents are still in Cloudsdale?”
“…no.” her voice goes quiet.
“Well, where are they?” you ask.
“…the flight school I went to… it was a boarding school… for orphans…” she quietly says.
Oh. Right.
“Um. Wow. Okay,” you say as random filler while you try to think of something non-stupid to say. “How did nobody notice an 8 year old-“
“9 year old,” she corrects you.
“How did nobody notice a 9 year old running around Ponyville on her own?”
“I try to hide when I’m not at school or with my friends. I was using your garden…”
“Okay…” you’re still trying to think of what to do.
“Wait!” she yells.
“What?” you reply.
“You aren’t gonna tell anyone are you?”
Honestly, you were. You were gonna tell the authorities. “Why wouldn’t I tell anyone?” you ask her.
“Because they’ll take me back to the orphanage in Cloudsdale!”
“Well I can’t just leave you out in the rain! Come inside with me,” you say, not really thinking about it much.
You lead her inside under your umbrella. You know this is irresponsible and you should let the police handle this, but you weren’t gonna just leave her out there in the rain.
She sits on your sofa, immediately soaking it. “Uh, sorry,” she says.
“Don’t worry about it,” you tell her as you get a towel and give it to her. She dries the rain off herself.
You get up on the sofa and sit next to her. “I dunno what to do. What am I meant to do with you?” you ask. You feel kind of stupid asking a 9 year old girl for advice, but she seems to know what she’s doing.
“I dunno… you promise not to tell anyone that I don’t have a home, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay… well, I guess I’ll wait out the storm in here if you’ll let me, then I’ll go back outside.”
“What?! I can’t let you go back to being homeless!” you say. “Why don’t you just stay here?”
She looks at you, her eyes shining with hope. “Really?” she says.
“Sure…” you say. She immediately jumps up and hugs you. “Thanks!” she says, nuzzling you.
“Haha, you’re welcome” you say. You nuzzle her back and begin to stroke her back-
“Why don’t you just take a seat right there?”
what the hell oh god what the hell
You look up to see the terrifying figure of Chris Hansen.
“What is going on here?” he demands.
“HOW DID YOU GET IN MY HOUSE?!” you scream.
“You forgot to close the door when you were leading our decoy in. Leading her in to molest her!”
“What?! I wasn’t molesting her! Wait… decoy?” you look down at Scootaloo. “Sorry,” she whispers.
“Oh man. This sucks. There’s black holes that suck less than this,” you say.
“Tell me, pedophile, what was it that made you want to molest this young girl?”
“I literally wasn’t molesting her. I LITERALLY WASN’T. You can ask her. Ask her!” you look at Scootaloo only to find that she left the room while you were yelling at Chris Hansen.
“You invited a vulnerable 9 year old girl into your home and began… nuzzling her,” Chris says.
“Oh… fuck off,” you mutter.
“What made you do that? What would have happened if I hadn’t stepped in?” Chris asks.
“Me and Scootaloo would have began wild lovemaking right here on the sofa, obviously” you say, your voice dripping with bitter sarcasm.
“Oh? So you admit it?” Chris asks.
“What? No! It was sarcasm!” you yell.
“I think we have all we need here,” states Chris Hansen. “Are you ready to go outside to the cops?”
You bolt up from your seat, pushing Chris Hansen forcefully aside in a daring escape. Your heroic dash for freedom is cut short when like 5 tazers and 3 cans of pepper spray all hit you at once.
The next thing you remember, you wake up in prison.
“So… what are you in for?” a ridiculously gruff, deep voice asks. You turn to see a huge stallion, stronger than a billion Applejacks, towering over you.
“Uh… I’m a child molestor. Apparently. I’m not, though. They just think I am,” you tell him.
“Oh, a kiddy rapist?” he says. He laughs. You feel the ground shake with his roaring laughter. This guy is bigger and stronger than any wrestler you’ve seen.
“You know,” he says, “we have a lot of fun with people like you here. And I got you all to myself, until shower time. GET UP AGAINST THE WALL AND PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN, BEFORE I FORCE YOU TO DO IT.”
You sigh. You’ve said it before and you’ll say it again – this sucks.
