Why We Need Better Hammer Control Laws

Miss Cheerilee stepped in front of her 3rd Period students and clapped her hands. “Everyone, please, settle down! Principal Celestia is here to speak to you all about an important issue!”

Sat in the corner of the class, leaning back in her chair with her crossed feet resting on the desk, Sunset perked to attention. Principal Celestia never made classroom visits, much less to the seniors, and even less to any class that Sunset was in. Not since sophomore year, when Sunset had brought Celestia down to the boiler room and pounded her ass with her massive horseschlong.

Ah. Sunset smiled and patted the tumorous growth running down her left leg. Memories.

“Thank you, Cheerilee.” Clipboard in hand, Celestia stood before the class. With the skill of a practiced educator, she deftly dodged the twenty spitballs immediately launched at her head. “Hello, everyone! I’m visiting today to let you all know about an exciting opportunity to strengthen both your grades, and your resume.”

Sunset’s horsedong quivered at the thought of strengthening her college application.

“As you all know, despite Canterlot’s relatively high socioeconomic averages, our city is home to a rather large homeless population. A population that, despite the city’s best efforts, only seems to be growing.” Celestia clasped her hands. “So, Vice Principal Luna and I had an idea. In line with Canterlot High’s continuing goal of creating socially conscious citizens, we want to turn the issue over to you: if given all the resources you would need, how would you deal with the issue of poverty in Canterlot?”

A suspicious murmur rose from the class. Even Sunset had to raise a brow. A theoretical community service project? This didn’t sound particularly resume-strengthening.

Miss Cheerilee stepped forward. “And to show our support for the project, I and all the other teachers have decided to make this a mandatory project for our classes, due tomorrow!”

That earned a groan from the crowd. Trixie stood up, raised her fist into the air, and shouted, “Fuck the homeless!”

Everyone cheered, while Celestia and Cheerilee just laughed. “Oh, Miss Lulamoon,” said Celestia, covering her mouth. “I love that energy!”

As the riot grew and Flash Sentry threw a desk out the window, Sunset pursed her lips. Like it or not, it seemed that she was going to have to cooperate here if she wanted to keep her 4.0 GPA.

That night, Sunset grabbed two sticks of lukewarm butter and headed up to her loft bed. Biting her lip, she stuck one deep into her asshole—and with a whispery moan, ran the other along her rigid horsecock. It left a shiny yellow trail along her shaft, like the residue from a jaundiced slug. She pressed the gooey butter hard into the head of her horsedick, until her back arched up in ecstasy.

Why Flash Sentry had never been into this was beyond her. Butterdicking was Sunset’s favorite pastime. After, heroin, of course.

The pressure built up in the tip of Sunset’s ponypenis. She wanted to cum, to spray her buttery semen all over the ceiling—and yet, every few minutes, an army of intrusive thoughts froze her in place.

She couldn’t keep herself from thinking about Principal Celestia’s assignment. And as much as she loved school, thinking about uncompleted assignments softened her equineerection like nothing else. And going soft with a stick of lukewarm butter in her ass was never pleasant.

Sighing, she took a thoughtful bite out of her dick butter. What was she going to do about this assignment? She’d never been a community service kind of girl. While her fellow students spent their weekends feeding the homeless and writing letters to disabled veterans, Sunset would sit at home on her phone, lecturing music journalists about why all their opinions were wrong.

But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t pull this off. She might not have been Canterlot’s greatest philanthropist, but she was a scientist—a problem solver.

That said, she’d never been one for pure theory. She needed an experiment she could test and get real, actionable data from.

What could she do? What would reduce the city’s homeless population?

She tapped the half-eaten stick of butter against her chin—then froze and stared at it.

Images from Sunset’s past rushed through her mind. Dark images. Fun images.

She smiled. Her maremember went hard again.

It was a dark and stormy night, and not even the full moon could penetrate the heavy cloud cover that hung above Canterlot. Grabbing her long bag, Sunset stepped off the downtown bus, onto the windy street.

In spite of its size, Canterlot was not the busiest city; this late at night, barely a soul walked these streets. Sunset had the whole avenue to herself. She hummed a tune as she went, following the familiar trail of fast food wrappers and cigarette butts to a darkened alley outside a convenience store.

Sunset knew this alley well—for the first few weeks after she arrived on Earth, it had been her home. Now, however, it would become her laboratory.

She shouldered her bag and stepped into the alley. At the far end, a fire crackled up from a garbage can, with two scruffy men standing near. A third snoozed on the ground nearby, resting his head on a backpack. The two by the flaming can looked up as Sunset drew near, regarding her with furrowed brows.

Sunset stopped once she reached the homeless man closest to her. The two met eyes.

In one smooth motion, Sunset pulled a sledgehammer out of her bag and knocked the guy’s goddamn face in.

He went flying backwards, chipped teeth falling to the ground. The other man yelped and ran away.

Sprawled across the pavement, blood poured from the victim’s gaping face wound. He trembled in shock as he tried to rise, but only managed to climb onto all fours before Sunset drove her sledgehammer into the back of his skull. She gasped at the solid thunk of steel against bone, bit her lip as the blood gushed forth.

It’s been years since she’d cracked someone’s head open like this. Back in Equestria, as a student at Princess Celestia’s school, she would murder other students all the time. Sometimes to relieve stress, sometimes for fun. She’d lead a classmate—usually a first-year—to the lakeside, and smash their heads like pumpkins.

Of course, it wasn’t like anything of value was ever lost. Any student with less than a 3.8 GPA could barely be considered sentient anyway.

She smiled at the memory as she lined up her shot and swung, sealing one final blow to her test subject. Under the hammer’s weight, his head burst. Blood and brain bits splattered across the alley walls and across Sunset’s clothes, thick and sticky like the guts of a pumpkin. Her fillyfuckstick tingled at the familiar warmth.

Something rustled behind her. She turned and found the once-sleeping homeless man awake, sitting up and staring. He’d gone pale.

Sunset spun around, dug a heel into the dirt, and swung. The top half of his head tore off, flying down the alley. Pus and spit and blood squirted from his exposed lower jaw.

She smiled and rested the sledgehammer on her shoulder. Two down. A lot more to go.

By the time Sunset finished, the sun was already rising, and her classmates were already walking into school. She sauntered through the front doors with a grin, painting her path with red footprints. Each step came with a moist squishing sound, as blood seeped from her sneakers. Chunks of gray and splotches of red dotted her jacket, and faint white stains surrounded the outline of her massive fucking horse penis.

None of her friends commented on her frazzled look, nor the scuffed sledgehammer she carried with her—none but Rarity, who frowned at how the bits of smashed gray brains that covered Sunset clashed with her black jacket.

Sunset spent the first two periods in the library, recording all the data she’d collected into a slideshow. And once third period rolled around, she walked into Miss Cheerilee’s class with her head held high.

Sat in the back of the class, she watched her classmates present their projects with pursed lips. Lyra had come up with the idea to shift more government funding into education, while Cloud Kicker said the same, but for welfare programs. Flash Sentry suggested that clothing companies should use the homeless as advertising by donating branded clothes, while Derpy said they could all stay at her house. And all the while Miss Cheerilee just smiled and nodded, trying to hide the midget erotica she was reading under the desk.

If these were the only ideas Canterlot’s constituents could come up with, then no wonder the homeless population had skyrocketed. Suggestions, theories... had anyone other than Sunset come up with a real, tangible plan? Canterlot needed action, not ideas!

Once it came time for Sunset to present, she stormed to the front of the room and set up her slideshow.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, bringing up a picture of a homeless man’s smashed scrotum, “you all make me sick.”

For the next five minutes, Sunset proceeded to lecture and berate the class, all the while revealing her master plan. Overnight, she had systematically tracked down and killed at least 80% of the homeless population in Canterlot, beating them to death with her sledgehammer. While all her classmates had been sitting at home, arranging their cute little slideshows with their carefully picked out Comic Sans font and dissolving transitions, Sunset had been hard at work making Canterlot a better place. Not only that, but she’d proven her hypothesis right: the fastest way to solve the homelessness crisis was to remove the homeless—permanently. The stains on her jacket were just the consequence for efficiency.

She ended her slideshow with a quote: “When it comes to fixing society, actions speak louder than words” (Will 106).

Silence hung in the classroom. Sunset stared into Cheerilee’s lecherous eyes, daring her to make a move.

And Cheerilee did move—she frowned. “On the assignment sheet I handed out, it clearly said that all quotes should be cited in APA style. That quote is in MLA citation style. Zero out of a hundred.”

Sunset gaped for a moment, then snapped a finger. “Aw, rats!”