Haters Gunna Hate

by Soarin is HOT

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sad
Length: 411

A short story about a filly who trys to be a successful author.

The filly wants to get her cutie mark really badly. She wants to be an author really badly. But when she successfully prints a story she gets hate on. This story is aimed at all of the haters out there. QUIT YOUR HATING! (you know full well who you are)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-08-11 21:55:06 UTC

Chapter 1

I woke up to my alarm clock buzzing loudly. I groaned and rolled over to see what time it was .

7:00, later then I usually got up to help Dad with the bakery.

Then with a jolt I remembered why I was getting up so late. Today was my first day at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns where I was determined to get my cutie mark as an author.

In one fluid motion I was up and my alarm was off.

Once I was out of bed I levitated my brush towards me. A trick I had been practicing for months to (hopefully) impress my roommates.

Once I was finished brushing my hair and returning it to its normal curly state I fixed my lucky blue bow in-between my ears and put my heavy saddle bags on my back.

Downstairs I was met with a hug and a blueberry muffin.

“You exited Lav?” Dad asked. (My full name was Lavender Frost.)

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked back.

“Well if I were you I would be very nervous.”

“I am, but this is the school of my dreams!”

“Alright Lav, but you need to eat a good breakfast. That muffin doesn’t count. I am making some oatmeal. You should eat a whole bowl you will less hungry later”

“Dad. I absolutely hate oatmeal.”

“It’s just a small bowl. Eat it. Here, Jenny brought in some jelly." he said. Jenny was our assistant baker and my dads secret crush.

I looked down at the oatmeal on the table. It was brown and lumpy. Jenny’s Jelly didn’t make it look any better. I sniffed. It smelled like sugar and well, oatmeal.

I slid into the seat and started to eat the oatmeal. It was slimy and lumpy. I barely choked it down. Then to top off the ick factor I drank the entire glass of orange juice that Dad had also set on the table.

Then in a hurry I ran back upstairs to my room and ate a mint to get the smell of oatmeal off my breath. I packed the mints and my hairbrush. Then forgetting my something I dashed to my desk and therew papers everywhere untill I found it.

My lucky purple quill. I had taken it out last night to wright and forgotten it.

Then feeling late I ran as fast as I could out the door and onto the streets of Canterlot.