You get home after confirming to your manager that you don't have memory loss from hitting your head. You just keep forgetting when payday is. You're not good with names either. You're currently sitting in front of your tent. Time to count some coins!

Yup, these are golden bits, alright. You're not sure how valuable they are compared to the superior currency (USD) but you assume they're close to a dollar from the times you've managed to use them. You begin counting, and eventually come to a total of 300 bits. Hey, that isn't bad for only 4 days of work!

Wait a minute...

If you do the math... 300 divided by four, and then the result of that divided by four... shit, you're not that great with numbers. You sure do wish you had a calculator or a pen and pencil handy.

After a short while of deliberation you come to the conclusion that you're currently earning almost 19 bits an hour. 19 BITS AN HOUR! Back from where you're from, you're lucky to hit even 12 dollars an hour in a kitchen! And here you are, making the equivalent to 19 dollars an hour washing dishes! Gee, when you're working 5 days in a week that'll mean you'll be able to live pretty comfortably! It's a shame that you're not working a 40 hour workweek! Does this mean you can afford a new place to sleep?

No more living in a tent under a bridge?

...

Hell no! Bridge life is the best life! But... you do miss having a flat floor to walk on.

You also miss having a sink...

You miss having a washing machine...

You miss having basic utilities...

You figure the time to go look for a place to live in is nearing soon. You might be able to rent a room somewhere, but you're not too keen on living with roommates.

You think you'll just have an easier time piling up your money for now. You'll figure out the details of storing money at the campsite later. Who knows? Maybe a good opportunity will show itself to you soon. For now, though, it's time to engage in the best part of capitalism. Spending your hard earned money! Before you even consider moving in somewhere, you're going to find some god damn luxury.

You jerry rig your pouch of money to your belt, tying it to your pants' belt loop. There's gotta be a better way, but for now this will do. You have an idea of how first to spend your money, and that idea involves going to a bar. You remember seeing a place on one of your jaunts.

You travel across town to find the place you remembered seeing. You arrive, and assess the sight that greets your eyes. Looks like a saloon-type thing. You walk in and are greeted by the sight of a bar, stools, and a relatively empty room. there's a couple of ponies here and there sitting in booths by the walls, and there isn't anyone at the bar itself. Perfect!

You take a seat, and the bartender pony takes notice of you.

"Welcome to our bar! I haven't seen you come in here before, glad you've decided to give us a try! What can I getcha?" the bartender asks. You examine the bartender. Male, grey coat, black mane, and an older gentleman. He even has a mustache, a rare site in this world.

"What's the strongest stuff you got?" you ask.

"The strongest stuff? We do have some Sweet Apple Acres cider if you're looking for something strong." he says.

"Cider? How strong is this cider?"

"Well mister, a single mug is usually enough to get somepony a buzz, if you're up to that." the bartender explains. Huh, this might not be as bad as you were thinking. You're thankful ponies have some form of alcohol. But why is cider the strongest that they've got?

"Yeah, I'll have a mug." you say.

"Comin' right up!" the bartender replies.

The bartender stands still, staring at you. You feel slightly uncomfortable. You look away for a second, and then look back to be startled by a mug being placed right in front of you. The mug doesn't look that big by your standards by any means, it's only about 10 fluid ounces. Must be either pony sizes or the stuff is so strong that you can only have it in 10 ounce increments. Still, alcohol is alcohol! You gotta scratch that itch.

You take a sip, and are immediately disappointed. You're not even sure this is alcohol.

"Hey man, you sure something isn't off about this?" you ask to the bartender. The bartender looks at you funnily, and then chuckles.

"Why? Too strong for you, sonny?" he says. You take another swig.

"This isn't strong at all." you say. The stuff just tastes like regular old apple cider. It's good, really good, but not alcohol by any means. The bartender's face goes to a neutral look, and then to a concerned one.

"That can't be right, this is fresh from the barrel. Lemme take a look..." the bartender says. The bartender grabs a small glass with his hoof (you're not sure how ponies can grab stuff like that) and pours out some cider in the glass from a barrel mounted behind him. He drinks from the glass, and then looks back at you.

"Son, I don't know what you're on about, but this is perfectly normal." he says.

What?

"You're telling me that this has alcohol in it?" you say. This earns you a shocked look from the bartender.

"A-alcohol? What kind of place do you come from where they serve that cleaning stuff in a drink?" the bartender asks you, clearly confused and concerned.

"When I said strong, I meant stuff that's supposed to, you know, get me silly?" you say.

"This does getcha silly! It's got the tang that gets ponies crazy about it!" the bartender says.

You give the bartender a serious look. He can't be serious, can he?

"The flavor is so strong that it gets folk worked up about it! Why would anypony ever drink that awful alcohol stuff?" the bartender adds. You finish your glass. Goddamnit.

"I guess you wouldn't know. How much do I owe you?"

You pay, leave, and go back to your tent under the bridge. Fucking horses and their lack of alcohol. Of course they wouldn't have that stuff. You paid a pretty hefty price for that small of a drink, 9 bits was way too much. The bartender told you some bullshit about how it's not cider season and the stuff comes at a premium this time of year. You stopped caring the second you sat in front of your ashy campfire spot.

As you're chilling, you considered figuring out how to make moonshine and then make a little operation under your bridge. You're sure that if any fuzz show up, you can give some bullshit about how you're making a strong cleaning agent for a friend. Your deliberations are interrupted by someone calling out to you.

"Anon? Hey! Anon! Hi!" you hear. Sounds like a mare. You look up, and the face greeting you from up there is none other than yellow serverhorse herself.

"Hey, yellow serverhorse!" you call up to her.

"MY NAME IS NOT- uh, what are you doing under the bridge?" she asks.

"Chillin'."

Yellow serverhorse runs down around the side of the bridge to get closer to you. As she gets down, she's wide-eyed and looking at every detail of your little camp.

"Wow! Are you camping here?" she asks. You considered lying to her and telling her that this is just a hang out for you, but you somewhat respect her so you decide to tell the truth.

"Yeah, don't have a house or apartment yet so I'm out here til' I get the money to have a place of my own." you say.

"T-that's terrible Anon! I have a spare room in my apartment you can crash in!" yellow serverhorse says.

She dares to insinuate that your living conditions are bad? This wench dares to ask you to leave your troll bridge? Your troll bridge that you didn't work all that hard for?

Fair enough. This is pony world after all, and this is probably her just being nice.

"Hey, yellow serverhorse, I appreciate the offer and all, but why would you just let some stranger into your home?" you ask.

"I know you're no stranger, Anon! I'd be happy to help somepony in need!"

"Yeah, that may be true, but aren't you worried about... fishy business going on?" you say.

Yellow serverhorse pauses. She looks clearly puzzled. It's almost as if the thought had never occurred to her before now.

"What kind of fishy business?" she asks, looking at you with an inquisitive expression. Oh boy.

"You know, some random guy coming in your house, taking stuff?" you reply.

"S-stealing? You wouldn't do that, Anon! That's what puts ponies in..." she pauses, looks all around to make sure no one is listening and then continues, "jail!"

"I'm not saying that I'd steal from you, I'm just saying that I've only worked at Dinny's for... a week tops, probably? We hardly know each other." you say.

"But Anon! We're friends!" she says.

One thing led to another, and you are now packing up what possessions you have (haphazardly) to head over to wherever yellow serverhorse lives. You don't have that many belongings, and you're able to carry everything at the campsite save for the campfire in both arms. You feel like Paul Bunyan holding two trees in each arm.

"Come on, Anon! My house is this way!"

You follow yellow serverhorse, possessions in tow, to her home on the other side of town. As you're walking, yellow serverhorse looks at you, ready to say something.

"Hey Anon, how are you able to carry all that stuff? We've been going for like 10 minutes now and you don't look like you've broke a sweat!" she says.

"I told you before dude, I'm built different from ponies." you say.

"Who built you?"

"I'm not some robot, I was born like a normal person." you reply.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

The walk continues at a comfortable pace. Yellow serverhorse is by your left side, occasionally looking at you but not saying anything. She then has another thing to say.

"Anon? You're smart, right?" she asks.

"About as smart as your average Joe, I suppose." you say.

"Joe?"

"Just a thing we say back where I'm from."

"Well, since you're so smart..." yellow serverhorse says. "...do you know where babies come from?"

What the fuck? What kind of person just asks that out of the blue? You find this pretty funny and start laughing. That question caught you off-guard.

"You're telling me you don't know?" you ask, still exhaling air from your nostrils.

"Yeah! As a filly, I kept getting told I'll know when I was older! Between me and the other servers, we've no clue! I thought you might know since you're so g-grown up compared to us!" yellow serverhorse says.

"Jesus Christ yellow serverhorse... how old ARE you?" you ask. She seems a little confused with the first part of that sentence, but answers your question all the same.

"You couldn't tell? I'm 19 already!" she says. For a brief second you consider the differences in life spans between humans and horses, but if that were to apply here it wouldn't make sense. You're sure you'd see the tiny ones growing more rapidly. You assume that she really is the equivalent to a college freshman.

"So... you're 19 years old, and you have no idea where babies come from? Are you sure you're not fucking with me?" you say. Yellow serverhorse flinches heavily upon the dropping of the word fuck.

"A-Anon! Language! You don't want a police officer to get you for saying that!"

"What's he gonna do? He can't even tell me where babies come from." you reply. This actually puts yellow serverhorse in deep thought for a second, it seemed like upon hearing this new information she forgot about your cursing transgression.

"So... you're the only one who knows?" she asks. You have to stop yourself from laughing as you reply.

"I'm sure I'm not the only one who knows. But I do know. I still can't believe you're telling me that full grown adults working a job don't know where babies come from."

"Well, yeah! We don't know! I wouldn't lie to you, Anon!" yellow serverhorse spits out. She actually looks hurt because she said that. You actually think she brought up a good point. If anyone else said that you'd know that they were full of shit, but the story is different here in Equestria. Ponies simply can't lie all that well, and she sure didn't seem like she was lying. If she were fucking with you, you think she would probably be trying to hold back laughs instead of being completely serious about this whole ordeal.

"Earlier, when I said born did you have any clue as to what that word means?" you ask.

"Yeah! It means... to appear!" she replies. She's proud of herself a little too much at being able to answer that.

Unfortunately, your walk's lovely conversation gets interrupted by the both of you are now in front of yellow serverhorse's home. By the looks of it, it's an apartment complex of some sort. There's a few more similar buildings right by it, and they all look the same as well. While multiple stories tall, they all look just like where a pony would call home. Strange cartoonish feel, like the rest of this place.

"We can finish this talk when we head inside and get you situated!" yellow serverhorse announces.

You hope the ceiling is high enough. Establishments like restaurants have ceilings high enough for you to walk comfortably in, but you're unsure about the pony dwellings. You're definite that this is your first time entering a pony's home.

Luckily for you, yellow serverhorse's apartment is on the bottom level and you won't have to be carrying anything up any stairs. You head in while ducking your head after she opens the door and holds it open for you. You are definite you didn't see any locking mechanism on the door. Inside, you're greeted by a lovely surprise! The ceiling is in fact more than high enough for you!

Now that you think of it, this entire place is quite roomy! However, this makes this spacious space seem a little suspiciously spacious.

"This apartment is much bigger than I thought it was going to be! My friend made a decent amount of money back home, and his wasn't this big!" you say. You look at yellow serverhorse only to find her blushing.

"T-that's real kind of you, Anon. I know it's not the biggest but you don't have to flatter me like that. It's all I can afford, after all!" she replies.

The fuck does she mean by that this is all she can afford? Does this mean that low income housing for ponies is the equivalent to VERY nice apartments from middle of nowhere U.S.? You notice how nice the entrance is, a marble floor leading up to a carpeted living room with lots of space and a rather comfy looking couch. Where there would normally be a TV placed back on homeworld, there is a magical fireplace of some sort placed in the corner.

You continue scanning the environment. The kitchen and the dining room are kind of merged, but the dining table shares an open space right by the living room. You could have sworn the building was smaller on the outside. This must be some next-level pony magic fuckery. It's like a small-sized house in here!

"Does this apartment span the whole ground level or something?" you ask.

"Well, duh, Anon!" yellow serverhorse says, as if saying that it was extremely unusual for there to be multiple apartments on the same floor or something. You find yourself quickly becoming acclimated to this fact, however. Nice digs!

"So, yellow serverhorse, how much does this place cost you?" you ask.

"T-that's rude Anon! You can't just ask somepony how much their home costs the second you come in! And my name is Lemon!" Lemon says. Alright, that may have been a little rude, even by human standards. Wait... Lemon?

"I'm sorry, yel-Lemon. Back where I'm from we don't have places as nice as this. From the way you were talking, it seemed like this very nice place is low income housing." you say in a slightly unnerving tone. You have bigger things to question.

"More importantly, is your name seriously just Lemon? No Last name?" you say. Lemon is now blushing profusely.

"W-well, that's just my first name..." she says.

"What's your whole name?"

Lemon is now physically shivering, face becoming redder by the second.

"Lemon... i-in the..."

Your full attention is now on this little yellow horse. This does not sit with her well, as by looking at her more she struggles to even speak. She tries, and tries again once more. Nothing comes out. You find yourself bewildered and slightly amused by this.

"My name is... my name... Is Lemon, in the Glass." she finally manages to spit out.

"Lemon Glass?"

"N-no. Lemon in the Glass."

"Like... a title?"

"No, my full legal name is Lemon in the Glass." Lemon in the Glass explains. You almost laughed, but the smile on your face managed to appear.

'You're telling me your name is Lemon in the Glass? Even by pony standards, that's just stretching it right there." you say.

"Please don't b-bully me! I had to go throughout the entirety of kindergarten with this name! I barely survived!" Lemon tells you. You think this is adorable. It's like naming a spaceship "It's Not a Bug, It's a Feature" or something silly like that. Lemon in the Glass, huh? Like a glass of water you get at a restaurant. You're sure the only place you've seen people get such things are in restaurants. One quick glance at her rump reveals that the cutie mark matches too. A handwritten order ticket.

"Don't worry, I may be big and tough, but I'm no bully. I'll, uh, just call you Lemon." you say.

Lemon in the Glass calms down, and then speaks again.

"Thank you for being so nice to me, Anon. I get really nervous when ponies ask me my name! And then they just start asking questions about it and I just don't know what to do!" she says.

"Yeah, that sucks. I knew a guy with an unfortunate name too, but I don't think you'd understand the reference behind it." you reply. Lemon seems content, and happy now. "So, like, your name is like putting a lemon in a glass of water or something?"

She starts getting red again, with an angry undertone this time.

After calming down Lemon and assuring her you weren't just trying to get under her skin, she finally lets it go. She then gives you the tour of her home, and then shows you her spare bedroom that she conveniently had. Sure does feel nice to be able to have a place to store your coins.

You ponder how pony taxes work if there's no fragments of bits.

Back to analyzing the room at hand, it's actually a pretty nice little room. It's not too big, but it does have a bed that happens to be barely your size. It's like a twin bed, but slightly more awkward. You'll make it work. It's much better than being in a sleeping bag on the rocky ground under a bridge. Other than the bed, there's a nightstand, lamp, and drawer.

You put your things down.

"Thanks again for letting me crash here, but I'm sure going to miss being a bridge troll." you say. Lemon's eyes widen.

"Y-you're a bridge troll?"

"No, I'm not a monster. I'm just your average, ordinary human dude." you say. Lemon lets out a sigh of relief, and then looks at the clock.

"Goodness! It's dinner time already!" she says. You sure do feel a little hungry.

"Since you're my guest Anon, I'll be the one serving up dinner tonight!" she pipes.

"Aww, how nice of you," you say in a tone that of an adult talking to a child, "what's on the menu?"

"Myyyy speciality! Eggs and cereal!" Lemon announces.

"Sounds... delicious."

"And while we're enjoying dinner, you can tell me where babies come from!"

This ought to be good.

Some time passes, and you find yourself at the dinner table. Lemon serves you a bowl of what looks like Lucky Charms and a plate of scrambled eggs on the side. You wonder how many ponies here are capable of making regular sunny-side up eggs.

Honestly, it's not the worst meal you've had for dinner. You remember having sleep for dinner once or twice when you were a kid.

It's a rather interesting choice by Lemon for this meal. You guess it's quite refined by pony standards, but then again, you remember the restaurant and how there's actual ponies who can cook really good food there. You assume that the meal in front of you is considered "We're not going out for tonight! We have eggs and cereal at home!"

"Thank you for the meal." you say. You and Lemon dig in, enjoying the nice ambiance of the magical fireplace nearby, and her little pony gramophone playing antiquated music as a reasonable volume.

"So," Lemon swallows. "Where do babies come from?"

You figure the only way through this ordeal is by being honest, as your old man taught you.

"Where do I start..." you say.

Lemon's full attention is on you now. You can feel a slight bit of metaphorical pressure being pushed on to you.

"I'm no biologist, but I'll give you my understanding of it. So, uh, basically, when a boy and a girl love eachother very much..."

Lemon's eyes widen.

"Well, see, here's the thing, girls have vaginas." you explain.

"Ba-ginas?"

"VA-ginas." you articulate.

"VA-ginas." Lemon copies.

"Yeah, vaginas. They're located under your butthole." you say. Lemon snickers at the mention of a butthole.

"Haha, you said butthoe. I am so glad we're inside my home where nobody can hear this!" she says, and then refocuses. "Va-gina. Is.. that my special place?"

Good lord, this is difficult.

"I pee out of there! How does that work?" Lemon asks.

"Shit." you say. Lemon winces at the curse, but her attention is still there.

"Well, it... doubles as something called a reproductive organ." you explain.

"Reproductive... organ?" she questions.

"Right. Males have the counterpart to the vagina, called a penis."

Lemon furrows her brow at what you just said.

"THAT'S what it's called? The thing colts have? I thought it was called a winkie!"

"Winkie's another nicer word for it."

"Do you have a penis?" Lemon asks. The word penis coming out of her mouth seems somewhat wrong, but you're here to talk about the birds and the bees so you'll have to get used to it. You wonder how ponies even breed to begin with in the first place. You've seen a few dangling balls, and a few unfortunate sights of dongs drooping, but nobody paid any attention to them to begin with. You eventually just ignore it when it happens, seeing as nobody around cares. Could they just not understand what they saw?

"Yes." you say in response to her question.

"Do all colts have penises?" Lemon asks.

"Only the guys have penises."

"Oh, ok."

Lemon looks contemplative.

"I don't see how this explains where babies come from." she says.

"You see, the boy and girl both start to feel hot and flustered." you continue explaining. You notice Lemon look down, presumably at her own special place. She looks somewhat disgusted.

"That's weird!" she says.

"Then the boy sticks his... penis... inside of the female's vagina."

Lemon loses a little color.

"H-how..."

"Then he goes back and forth a little bit with it, in and out, until it starts feeling really good, and he then feels something called an orgasm." you say. You're holding a little laugher back. You never thought you were going to have the opportunity to explain how babies are made to a grown woman.

"O-orgasm?"

"Imagine the best feeling you've ever had. Multiply that by a thousand or so." you say. Lemon's mind is clearly going into overdrive with this new information.

"C-can mares get orgasms too?" she asks. You find yourself getting slightly more uncomfortable with this conversation. Usually, back on home world, these talks were usually avoided due to the kids finding out about it on their own. The second the parents decided it was time, they quickly found out that the kid already knows.

"Yes, mares can have them too." you say. Lemon's pupils gets a little tinier. She's somehow simultaneously losing color, and blushing profusely. You think you can feel her heartbeat reverberate through her chair, through the floor, and up to your seat.

"And when the guy orgasms, his winkie squirts out a slimy, white liquid." you explain.

Lemon is shivering.

"H-how does..." she spurts out.

"Then something happens inside the female's special place, and from the liquid there's these things called sperm cells."

"S-s-sperm c-cells?" Lemon sputters out. She looks like she's on the verge of losing her shit.

"Yeah, little microscopic swimming things containing the essence of the male."

Lemon is breathing very heavily.

"There's millions of them inside the liquid."

Lemon faints.

She falls out of her chair, and flops on the ground. You're sure that may have hurt for her if she was awake enough to register the pain of thudding on the ground like that. You're just sitting there, soggy cereal and all, staring at her now lifeless body on the ground. You're somehow both surprised and not surprised at the fact that you just made a pony faint. Guess she couldn't handle it when you mentioned the sheer number of sperm cells in jizz. You wonder if she'll look at eggs the same way if you continue telling her about it.

You look at the clock, seeing that it is indeed around bedtime now. You figure that Lemon was going to go to bed soon eventually.

Author's Note

everything i touch reminds me of washing dishes
i am fueled by eternal rage and seeing people comment

a top of the charts story for a top of the charts audience! you guys are freaking me out with the fanart and readings.

we're only getting started