Or "Book-Horse Brainteasers"
You are yet another Anon in Equestria, and life is good.
You’re buddy-buddy with the Mane Six, and you’ve found yourself a house and steady work as a carpenter. Always should’ve figured your old man forcing you to work in his woodshop growing up would pay off eventually. Right now, you’re just sitting around after a long day’s work, a cider in one hand and a book in the other, just laying up. Yes, life is good, though it’s not without its drawbacks.
Speaking of…
“Twilight, you can come out now.” You grumble. “I know you’re there.”
After a moment, there’s a little whiff of lilac magic, and a purple pony princess of friendship is walking out from behind an armchair. “Dangit,” she whimpers. “How did you…”
“It’s completely quiet in here, did you think your paper and quill were totally silent?” You ask.
She curses under her breath. “I was trying to be mindful of that…”
“But then you got too into your notetaking and forgot,” you scoff, finally polishing off your cider and setting the book aside. “Alright bookhorse, what’s the deal this time?”
Twilight and her neverending wellspring of curiosity might be one of the bigger dampeners on your time here. Besides, of course, the occasional world-ending villain breaking out of captivity to conquer the world. Her unending questions and enthusiasm sure as hell started out endearing, but after a while, it just got old. You had to put a weekly limit on the amount of tests she could run and questions she could ask just to have time enough in your day to get literally anything else done. Of course, that didn’t stop her from pushing the limits of her questions. Or your patience.
Giving a flustered blush, she turns away. “I was actually wondering about a point you brought up last week about human adrenal glands.”
“Twi, you know you’re outta questions for this week.”
“I can’t wait the entire weekend for this!” She gasps, waving her adorable hoovesies around as her wings flare. “This is an important step in knowing what humans are capable of!”
Usually, you’d divert her attention to something else; maybe invite her to spend dinner with you, or just reach over and give her scritchies behind the ear. Now though, you’re curious. “And you planned on learning that by watching me…how?”
She looks down at the floor, giving a bashful shuffle of her hooves. “I was hoping to catch you using it to…I dunno, jump on the roof and clear out the gutters or something.”
You give a little chuckle at that. “Twilight, adrenaline isn’t something humans can just tap into whenever we feel like!”
“It’s…not?”
You shake your head. “We make it naturally, sure, but our bodies only really crank it out in the most desperate situations.”
“Really?” The notepad hovers up into view. “Fascinating...so it’s more like a failsafe to be used in case of emergencies?”
“Aww no…” you hold up your hand, frowning sternly. “I already told you you’re out of questions for this week. You could’ve saved them, but no, you just had to hear about the Wright Brothers.”
“Heavier-than-air travel could revolutionize all of Equius,” she insists, dancing on her hooves like a little filly waiting to use the bathroom. “But this is important too! Please!”
“Unless there’s a strange illness killing ponies left and right, and the only cure might lie in human adrenaline, then it’s not so important it can’t wait for your Curiosity Cache to replenish,” you insist. Curiosity Cache being your current name for the number of questions Twi can ask in a week, though you’ve been toying with “Magic Mindbenders,” “Know Your Monkey,” and “Learny McLearnyface.”
“That’s on Monday, though!”
“Yep. Just a weekend away.”
True to form, Twilight sits on the floor with a huff. Her face and expression sink, her ears folding low as her lower lip quivers. When you first arrived here, this was exactly how she kept you talking to learn more about humans. She had you going for hours on end about any random topic she could think of, only pausing for the occasional bathroom and hayburger breaks. She’d even tried to combine those at one point, though the smell you left in her bathroom dissuaded her from that at least. Now though, you only set your book aside and pull yourself out of your seat.
“I’m gonna get started on hayburgers,” you call over your shoulder, keeping your gaze off her and her sad, widdle pony eyes as you head for the kitchen. “Want yours well-done?”
“…Medium-rare,” she sighs after a moment.
You smile as you head to the kitchen to get started on dinner.
You wake up the next morning to a suspiciously-empty lap. You could’ve sworn you’d passed out with Twilight there, reading along with you from one of the new Gryphen King novels. Usually, Twilight will be asleep way longer than you, and you’ll actually have to give her a few prods to get her out of your house, but not today, apparently.
With a sigh that sounds a little more despondent than you may have meant, you head to the kitchen. After guzzling a full pot of coffee to wash down some dry toast for breakfast, you head out into Ponyville to handle the many Anon-tasks you need to before the weekend is over.
“Lessee…” you mumble out loud. “We promised Applejack help in fixing up the barn this morning, then there’s holding down some of the pets who need vaccinations with Flutters, lunch with Rarity at the café, then back to Fluttershy’s for some of the pets who need to get spayed…”
As you warm at the idea of her little “Angel” finally getting the ball-amputation he’s had coming ever since his attempt to sacrifice you to the Elder Gods (which entailed tying you to a stump out in the woods and trying to rip your heart out with the most adorable little sacrificial knife you’ve ever seen), you finally give pause. It’s quiet out. Way too quiet. Where are the ponies running fruit stands and flower shops? You can hear some in the distance, closer to town square, but there’s always a few on your street, especially on Saturdays to catch the crowds of townsponies heading out into the woods or towards the beach. Yet your street isn’t just quiet, it’s dead. You don’t even see anypony moving in any of the houses. The hell? Is it earlier than you thought? Is this some weird pony holiday that you’ll only learn about later, in the form of a highly-choreographed musical number?
“HELP!”
The cry makes you draw in a breath. Oh shit. Did another ancient evil cast beyond time that Celestia forgot to mention break out? Fuck. Might be time to duck and cover inside, let Twi and the girls handle this with the power of friendship.
And lasers. Big, goddamned friendship lasers.
“HELP, OH HELP!”
You frown at that. That last cry sounded kinda…robotic. Like one of those drama class dropouts they always got to advertise lawyers and realtors in commercials back home. With a shrug, you head down the street at a light jog, following your ears.
You reach a narrow alleyway, where you find Colgate lying on her back on the cobblestone. On top of the cerulean unicorn rests an overturned wooden wagon, maybe just a step up from the little red Radio Flyer you’ve seen the CMC running around in whenever they go out on a Cutie Mark ~~impending lawsuit~~ Quest. She can’t possibly be stuck or something, can she?
“Oh, Anon!” She gasps. “Please, you need to help me! I became stuck under this cart and I can’t get out! I need you to use your adentaline…”
“Adrenaline.” The trashcan next to her corrects.
“…Yeah, that. I need you to use that to get this thing off me!”
You blink down at her. Your mind races, trying to piece together what this is all about. “Colgate, is this some sorta sex thing? ’Cause I gotta say, the oral fixation is already creepy enough without adding some DiD fetish into it.”
She looks up at you, jaw dropping in outrage. “Oral fixation!? There is nothing wrong with wanting proper dental hygiene for all ponies!”
“Oh I agree, it’s just that when you start cutting ponies’ smiles out of magazines in the waiting room for what I assume is a weird obsession-collage you have somewhere, it officially passes from professional interest to ‘Silence of the Lambs’ levels.”
Her face turns a bright red. She looks away from you, face buried in her hooves. “I-it’s not like that.”
“Yeah?” You sigh, walking over to pick the cart up and setting it back upright. “So you have a normal, non-creepy explanation for all the little holes in your waiting room magazines? The ones that happen to be centered over everypony’s lower faces?”
Instead of answering, she bolts to her hooves and starts running in the opposite direction, only to run into the cart which you had set down back upright on its wheels. Realizing she can’t circle around it, she scoops it up easily in her magic, shimmies underneath, then drops it again as she runs off.
You watch her go, shaking your head. “It’s always the dentists that turn out t’be freaks,” you mutter. Welp, that was strange and uncomfortable. But you have to move on, time waits for no Anon.
You continue along down the street, trying to enjoy the nice, quiet Ponyville morning, even if it is too quiet. You can hear your own breathing, feel the cool air as it travels down to your lungs, and really appreciate just being alive.
That is, until another terrified cry breaks the morning air: “HELP, OH HELP!”
Sprinting into action, you jog down the street, though pause just short of turning the corner in case the screaming pony really has happened upon some Lovecraftian nightmare Celestia forgot to mention. Again. You peek around to find Rarity on her back in the middle of the road, in front of…what looks like…is that…the same timberwolf prop they were trying to trick Spike into saving AJ’s life with?
“Oh, puh-leaze, somepony help me!” Rarity cries dramatically, a hoof going to her head, not quite covering her horn enough to mask the faint glow as it works the jaws on the fake timberwolf. “Somepony…or even, somebody…must save me from this savage beast!”
You close your eyes. Count to ten. You know what this is, and you really don’t need it this early in the weekend. Maybe if you duck away now, she won’t even see you…
“Oh, Anon!” She gasps, reaching out to you. Dammit. “I need your help with this brutish animal, puh-lease! You’re the only one who can help me!”
Yeah sister, you need help alright. Preferably, the kind you get from a dude with a beard and a pipe and a degree in handling crazy. You stomp out to her, glaring down at the marshmallow horse as she carries on with her high-pitched keening and whining. Snorting, you head over to a trough along the side of the road, fill a handy bucket nearby, then stomp back over to the crying marshmallow and upend the bucket over her head.
She sits up, sputtering, her concentration on her magic breaking and sending the timberwolf crashing to the dirt. “Anon!” She gasps indignantly, glaring up at you between wet locks of purple mane as mascara runs down her fuzzy cheeks. “What in Equestria…”
“Rares, I had you pegged for a DiD fetishist from Day One. For fuck’s sake, get a boyfriend already! And stop using Tom as a way to fill that void! And your other voids too!”
Rarity’s eyes bug out. “Wh-hat are you…talking about there, Nonny, I don’t…”
“Yeah, under your mattress is literally the least creative place to put him.” You interrupt. “Especially since it leaves a nice little impression when you throw the mattress out. Next time, just take it straight to the dump instead of dragging it to the curb for all of Ponyville to see.”
Stammering, she bolts to her hooves, making like Colgate and heading for the hills. “Why couldn’t you just use your adrenaline and be the hero you’re supposed to be!” She sobs as she fades into a white speck on the horizon.
Well hell, that was an odd choice of words. In fact, that would make her the second pony to mention adrenaline in a weird and unnatural way just today, three if you went back twelve hours and counted…
…
Ohhhh, goddammit, bookhorse!
You stomp towards the palace in the middle of town, passing right by at least half a dozen more ponies in “peril,” including but not limited to: Scootaloo stuck in a well, Cheerilee pinned under a very liftable pile of textbooks, and Fluttershy with her neck caught in the jaws of her bear in what would have to be the most careful and gentle mauling in history.
You straight-up boot the front door to the Palace down, having no time for doorknobs or moves that won’t risk you breaking your toes. “TWILIGHT!” You bellow. “Get your book-humping butt out here, little missy!”
When only silence greets you, you snort, and start stalking the shelves, finally happening upon Spike in the main hall, casually reading a comic book on his belly while an empty shelf rests on his back.
“Spike?”
He looks up, his eyes widen, and he tosses the comic away. “Anon!” He gasps, making a show of breathing heavily. “You have to help! It’s too heavy, it’s…”
“I’ll say you’re a better actor than Rarity,” you interrupt him with a dry glare. “But don’t get me wrong: that’s not sayin’ much.”
Spike heaves a long sigh, then nudges the shelf off and stands. “Yeah, I know. I figured you’d piece it all together by the time you made it here, but it was worth a shot.”
You glare down at him, arms crossed. “Where’s the princess of social anxiety now?”
“Headed to Sweet Apple Acres,” he shrugs. “She’s got one final thing dreamed up, I think, but don’t ask me what it is.”
“Great,” you grumble. “Look, I really don’t feel like running the damsel gauntlet again, you got a way out of this place that’ll keep me unseen?”
“We have a backdoor, but that’s about it,” Spike replies, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the large door. “Twilight’s the one who could teleport you, my fire breath only goes to Canterlot.”
“Thanks,” you sigh, heading for the door.
“Don’t mention it,” he calls after you with a wave. “But go easy on her, Anon! This is just as stressful on her as it is to you!”
“Oh, I doubt that,” you reply, heading into the big, wide world. “But it’s about to be.”
You stomp towards Sweet Apple Acres with the conviction of a man in a mood. A few more ponies in half-baked distress situations take one look at you as you approach and miraculously manage to pull themselves out of whatever “dangerous” situations they’d gotten themselves into. Yeah, you’re pissed alright. Book-horse is getting an earful when you find her.
Finally traipsing through the woods on the approach to the orchard, you stand before Applejack’s barn and bellow: “Apple-butt!”
Usually, your nickname for her would bring Applejack running to scold you about taking something so sacred and precious as apples in vain (not her exact words but awfully close). Still, silence reigns in the orchard, but for the occasional whisper drifting back on the wind.
“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” You mutter, making no effort to hide yourself as you barrel ahead, right through the barn doors.
“...a-and he said I needed a coltfriend, and he’s ri-hi-hiiiiiiight!” Rarity sobs as her friends all gather around to console her. Well, Twi, Fluttershy, and Pinkie are trying to console her, Rainbow and Applejack seem content with playing cards on the back of the sofa that always materializes at Rare’s will. Then, they all look up at you, and with panicked gasps, pushing, and shoving, gallop off into the darkness of the barn.
“Oh, what is this fuckery...” you mutter as a light clicks on with a metallic clang, right in your eyes.
Before you is a titanic pile of machines, jutting out randomly amidst a heap of spinning gears and tweeting steam whistles, with one of the six friends in each. Applejack sits in a cage as a giant steel plate covered in spikes hovers ever-closer. Rainbow Dash is chained to a massive top that spins ever faster as you look at it. Pinkie is jammed inside a see-through jack in the box with a giant set of steel spikes suspended right over her. Fluttershy is apparently just tied to a chair, crying as a baby raccoon sits in a box in front of her and cries for its mother, though of the two she has way more tears going. And Rarity is strapped to a table with a foot-long dildo on a pole hovering ever closer to her oh Jesus Christ, marshmallow horse! Seriously! Get a boyfriend!
Finally, ever the drama queen, Twilight sits under a guillotine, her head, forehooves, and wings locked in place beneath its blade. “Anon! Help!” She gasps. “Grogar’s Legion of Doom came back and locked us all in these contraptions!”
As if to prove it, one of her wings magically unlocks itself long enough to point at the sign written in six different hoofwriting styles and with six different colors of pen: “WE TOTALLY DID THIS, love the Legion of Doom <3.” All followed up with drawings of the three villains that would look in place on the wall of a daycare center, with a helpful arrow pointing to them labeled “these guys.”
“Uh-huh.” You reply, crossing your arms without even questioning why they drew the emoji heart instead of the standard valentine.
“Quick! The only way out is with that button up there!” She adds, a hoof freeing itself to point out the big, red button in the roof of AJ’s barn. “But I don’t know how you’ll ever reach it knowing normal human strength! You’ll need to--”
She finally turns to look down at you, tapping your foot impatiently with an eyebrow arched. “...to...” she trails off, then pulls her head out of the guillotine. A second later, the cardboard blade slides down and bounces harmlessly off the bottom. “Okay girls, he definitely knows.”
Rather suddenly, the mares all leap from their supposed death traps, Pinkie even spraying confetti as she pops out of her jack-in-the-box and bounces harmlessly off the aluminum foil spikes over her head. They all trot up to you, heads lowered, except for Fluttershy who immediately tends to her raccoon with apologies repeating out of her mouth, and Rarity who apparently takes the opportunity to do you have to even fucking spell it out!? Goddammit, marshmallow-horse!
“I gotta say, bein’ a princess has its perks if you can get a whole town to back you up on a stupid venture like this literally overnight.” You grouse.
“Actually, you can thank Pinkie for that,” Twilight says. “She agreed to supply snacks to anypony willing to commit to a role, and handed out coupons to Sugarcube Corner.”
“Buy one, get three free,” Ponk says with a sheepish grin up at you. “It’s not much better than our monthly sales, but I guess nopony wanted to wait another two weeks for those.”
Your glare shifts back from her to the very guilty-looking purple princess at your feet. “Well? Did you have something you wanted to say?”
After a moment of scuffing her hoof on the floor and avoiding your eyes, she gazes up at you. “I really wanted to know more about adrenaline and you weren’t saying anything so I...uh...”
“Shut down an entire town for a day to go against my wishes? All to push against a limit I only put in place because it reached the point where we both were totally unable to function on a day-to-day basis?” You ask, foot tapping, eyebrow arching.
Finally, she looks down, massive lilac eyes shimmering with tears. “I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?”
For the first time since you got up that morning, your gaze softens. “Kinda,” you sigh. “But hey, I think everybody does that now and again. Nobody’s perfect.”
She looks up at you hopefully, ears still folding back.
“But this still serves to prove why I’m right to enforce the limit on Twily’s Trivia,” you add, waving a hand out to the monstrous pile of machinery not twenty feet away. “Look around you! Instead of doing something productive today, look what you got your whole town to do!”
Looking back over her friends, she cranes her head back, eyes widening as if taking in the ridiculous scope of what she’s done for the first time. “Oh, wow.” She gasps. “This got a little outta hoof.”
“A little?” Rainbow grumbles.
“Ut!” You tsk, waving a finger. “You coulda stopped her at any time, rainbow-horse! You don’t get to take the high road here!”
Dashie grumbles and kicks at a pebble with her hoof, but says nothing.
“Anyway, we should probably get this whole thing torn down,” Twilight sighs, turning back to the contraption.
“Okay,” you sigh, rolling up your sleeves and ignoring Rarity’s lustful stares as you do. For God’s sake, marshmallow-horse, get a…
Your thoughts are interrupted as Twilight pulls a single bolt, and the entire humongous contraption lurches. Something that big giving a sudden jolt makes everypony pause, gazing up at the massive pile of gears, pinions, and plywood. There’s a strain of creaking wood, the grinding of gears, and finally a little pop, and the machine settles.
You all heave a sigh of relief. “Christ, what’d you make this thing out of, duct tape and chewing gum?” You huff.
“Actually, Pinkie volunteered some old taffy to--”
Book-horse is interrupted in her favorite hobby (explaining shit you didn’t need explained) by a loud twang, followed by the roar of a dozen tons of industrial equipment assembled with all the care of a Bangladeshi sweatshop ripping itself apart, bearing down on you all as a tide of nails, splinters, and bolts. You let out a gasp, take a step back, hands raising to defend yourself and…
Time slows. Bolts flying towards you are suddenly massive and noticeable, going from bits of debris to the size of garbage cans. A flying splinter tears at you like a spear, and your body twists to dodge. In your peripheral vision, you can see the others moving: Dash rockets up to safety with Pinkie and Flutters tucked safely under her hooves, Applejack darts to the side while lassoing Rarity, pulling her to safety, and Twilight…
Freezes.
She fucking freezes.
As the guillotine tears itself apart and bears down at her in a shower of wood and nails.
In an instant, your dodge corrects itself, and you throw yourself at the purple princess, wrapping your arms around her swan-like neck. That seems to break her from her trance, and her magic ignites. A metal plate in the pile whips up, rising in a purple glow to act as a shield. But she’s overestimated her own grasp. It’s coming at you too fast. Without thinking, your arm rises in a block. Your fingers meet its sheer mass. There’s a dry snap like a bundle of twigs, and your wrist bends at a weird angle, but the plate stops. Then the debris is on you both. There’s a roar. Shattered wood. Bent steel. Squealing ruins. Everything goes roaring past in a hurricane of rubble.
Then all of a sudden, it’s over.
You look up amidst the darkness. The steel plate doesn’t budge, but that’s okay. You already hear calls and shouts as the others work to dig you out. You let out a breath.
“Jesus, you okay, Twi?”
In response, she starts hyperventilating in your ear. You start to worry she might develop asthma from the dust she’s inhaling just when the steel plate is finally lifted from your mangled wrist and light pours in. You wince, letting out a breath as the pain from your mangled arm finally hits you. “Fuck...” you whisper.
“Are you guys okay!?” Dash shrieks.
“I’m fine,” you reply, turning to face the princess. “Twi’s a little shaken, though. She’s…”
You trail off, realizing that’s not random muttering coming out of her. She’s actually saying something coherent:
“Increased strength, pain immunity, vastly superior reflexes, yes, yes! It was all there!”
She swoops out of the pile of rubble to a totally-conspicuous teddy bear sitting by one of the stalls. Ripping its head off, she rummages through the stuffing, tossing it aside in a massacre worthy of Leatherface. “Where is, where...THERE! HAHA!” She squeals, holding aloft a small camera, from which she grabs a set of reel-to-reel spools. Trying not to think about the two-foot-long reel-to-reels she just pulled out of an eight-inch dollar store teddy bear, you deadpan and walk over as she prances around in a circle.
“YESSSS!” She hisses, dancing around with it, stroking it, licking it. “My preciousssssss...my...”
You pluck the tape out of her hooves, listening to her squeak as you glare. “You’ll get this back next week,” you growl. “And it’ll count as your entire allowance in your Pony Ponderations!”
“B-but...but...” she moans, sinking to her knees as her forehoof reaches out to you.
Without an ounce of pity, you stomp out the door and slam it behind you, officially done with princess shenanigans for the day. You pause just outside the door, an ear perked for what’s happening inside.
“Welp, ya can’t win ‘em all, sugarcube,” AJ says. You can practically see her stroking Twi’s shoulder comfortingly. “Honestly, y’gotta admit: this was sorta yer comeuppance. Y’all did go awful far this time.”
“I know...” Twi sighs. “Knowledge is no excuse for going against the wishes of a dear friend. I’m sorry...”
“Ah’m not the one y’all should be apologizin’ to.”
After a moment of consoling horse noises, one voice rises above the others: “I must say, darlings, did anypony else think the way he dove in front of her was...rather heroic?”
After a moment where your stomach drops into your tennies, Twilight replies: “Hooves off, sister, he’s mine.”
Trying very hard to pretend you didn’t hear that, you head off towards the main road, the cassette tucked away under your shirt. All the while, you can’t help but wonder how Appleloosa must be this time of year…
A week after the Asinine Adrenaline Atrocity, you find yourself going around to other ponies, making amends. Fortunately, this meant you got to get out of the house and spend some quality time with the citizens of Ponyville, and for the most part this meant getting plenty of free meals. Everypony seemed pretty much set on the idea of playing this off as more Ponyville weirdness and just going back to business as normal, and hay, that was fine with you. Thing is, this all meant you had to go to Colgate and of course, the little creeper had asked to give you a free oral exam.
As you sit in a chair from out of Jigsaw’s darkest dreams with a little paper bib clipped to your shirt, you wonder if the offer of a free exam was really worth putting yourself under the care of a mare that had thousands of dollars worth of medical equipment and a glaring tooth fetish. Then you remember that you’re uninsured, and not knowing that Equestrian healthcare is universally provided (your ignorance thanks to a convoluted scheme from Twilight to get as many samples of your bodily fluids as she could), you decided you’d be okay with a rectal exam from Jeffrey Dahmer if it meant avoiding paying premiums.
“So, how’s my little patient today?” Colgate chimes as she walks in with an ever-so-adorable nurse’s mask.
You smile, but not too large. She’ll be getting all the porn she needs in a minute, no need to give her a free show. “Just great, doc. This week’s been real good to me.”
“Oh?” She asks, tugging the side of your mouth down with a barbed hook. “Tell me about it.”
“Well, I’hve kinda been goin’ wound, talkin’ abou’ lastht weekend wit da ponies...”
“Mmh-hmm,” she asks, adding a hooked tool to the other side.
“...ahn it’th weally been gweat t’intwoduthe mahthelf to ebbyun all obah again...”
“You don’t say?” She tosses on another hook to stretch out the corner of your mouth.
“...a illy hot a unch wa gackin da ova hi...”
“Yes?”
“...agah aww ahhh ah gow honah dah...”
“And finally, this one here...”
“...agahhh wahhh bah asdfjkl glick...”
“Oh shoot, hold on...” she sighs, pulling the last tool out of your mouth and inspecting it. “Ugh, great. This is the bad one. Gosh, I really should just throw it out...” she gazes back at you, smiling sweetly. “I’m sorry, but could you give me a moment?”
“Uh-huh,” you reply, the only thing you can say coherently at this point.
“Thanks a bunch,” she says before trotting out the room, carrying the tool in her hooves. Well, whatever. Now you’re just an Anon alone with his thoughts.
At least until the door bursts open and a couple of familiar fillies burst in, as they are wont to do. “Hey Anon,” Applebloom says with a wide grin, trotting in with Sweetie Belle at her side.
You smile as the fillies approach. “’Ey hidth, eah’s oh huren?” (“Hey kids, where’s your friend?”)
“Wha-oh,” Applebloom shrugs. “Sorry, but we ain’t seen Scoots all week.”
Your smile turns into a frown. “Eehee? Ah hot ooh oolda ithed er out a’ heh huwell unth heh hig us uh.” (“Really? I thought you would’ve fished her out of the well once the jig was up.”)
Sweetie’s and Applebloom’s eyes widen, pupils narrowing to pinpricks. “M-Mr. Anon?” Sweetie asks, her voice a near-inaudible squeak. “What well?”
At that, your own eyes widen. In a flash, you bolt out of your seat, throw off the stupid lead apron thing, and rocket out the room, trailing saliva, floss, and two little fillies now on a rescue mission.
“Hey, we weren’t finished!” Colgate shrieks, holding up a little plastic bag with toothpaste, floss and those crappy, stiff-bristled toothbrushes. “At least take your complimentary bag of dental hygiene equipment!”
Sighing, she shakes her head. “Kids these days, they really don’t appreciate proper dental hygiene,” she mutters, tossing the bag aside. Then, with a lick of her lips, she turns to the x-ray of your teeth she just shot. The x-ray of your beautiful, wonderful, neatly-plated teeth. “Ah well, at least today’s not a total loss,” she grins, heading to her back office.
