Twelve Ounces of Absurdity

Fluttershy stared at the lion outside her window. It was a vicious sort, complete with fangs, claws, and tattoos from one of those little vending machines. One in particular contained the picture of a devil-horned angel and read Total Bitch in cursive. This really set the pegasus ill at ease. Thanks a lot.

Putting trouble out of mind, she turned to the record player Dash had given her for her birthday. She did not really know what to do with it, being that sh'd owned no records at the time, so Fluttershy had felt obligated to search out the nearest yard sale. She'd ended up purchasing a Bonnie Tyler album. It spoke to her soul in ways she was not really comfortable with, but then the timid mare wasn't really comfortable with most that existence offered. Why not simply put this trouble to rest?

Well, Fluttershy had to remind herself there that various small and delicate lives depended on her. She'd somehow at one point gotten the notion in her head that this was significant, and she'd never really been able to rid it since then. The mongrels had piled up not long after. As if on cue, Angel Bunny hopped up to her, gesturing toward the carrot cabinet with a demanding stare.

No other recourse available, Fluttershy complied and rose from the sofa. At least the task had taken her mind off that frightening lion, she reasoned. Damn. And now the bowl she'd filled with carrots resembled all manner of predators so she hastily hoofed it off to the little nuisance. Let him deal with the nightmares. Actually, she grinned, that might be a worthy undertaking. Not even she was above malevolence, and this, barring the mean-spirited obvious phrase, could accomplish two tasks with one effort. Yes, if Fluttershy was able to obtain a dream-modifying potion, she might pluck the meddlesome images right from her mind and pass them off to Angel Bunny, simultaneously punishing him and sparing her one of many stressors.

Now where would she get a dream potion from? She was a pegasus, last she'd checked and she checked again now just in case, and so had no experience with magic. Yet this was why she had friends, and Twilight would likely have something stocked in that giant tree of hers. Wasn't right for a pony to live in a tree, Fluttershy'd often thought, but it would come in handy for her at least for her. For some reason, it seemed to her that trees were known to be good locations for storing dream potions. And the mare did not question beliefs that might be detrimental.

Returned to the present by the small fists of an irate bunny, Fluttershy tossed the bag of carrots to him. She had work to do.

"Twilight?" Fluttershy called, knocking gently on the door. "Twiiliight!"

Some minutes passed in this manner before Twilight finally opened the door, giving an exasperated sigh. "Fluttershy, I've told you before, this is a public library. You don't need to knock."

"Oh, but what if I happened to come in at a bad time or intrude on you with--"

Blushing, the unicorn cut her off, "That was one time and we've learned our lesson!"

At that, Fluttershy nodded sagely. "Yes, it is important for a pony to learn their lessons about such things."

"...Anyway, what did you want?"

"Oh, um..." She reverted to her shy state, making requests was such a brutish activity. In some respects, Fluttershy considered herself a proper mare the way Rarity did. Probably more so, much more chaste than the needy slut.

Twilight wasn't amused. "Well you can't just stand there all day," she frowned. "You'll either have to tell me or step away from the door so other ponies can get in."

Fluttershy glanced around in case there were actually ponies inhabiting the library. There were none, but she didn't say anything. Likely the tree to blame anyway, dreadful thing for a pony to inhabit. "Okay, um, here goes, this is it...Do you have any dream potions to spare? I could really use some for my unceasing nightmares."

Twilight Sparkle blinked. "Dream potions? What, do you think I'm some sort of astral-projecting New-Age flower child? I'm a mare of concrete science and if anyone is a flower child, it is you. Look at overgrown mane you likely haven't cut once in your adult life and I can tell it certainly doesn't get washed. Your cutie mark is fucking butterflies and you spend all your time in an isolated shack doing god knows what with that zoo of yours, I'm fairly sure that's in violation of Ponyville's residential code and you can consider your sorry ass lucky it hasn't been reported yet. In case you haven't guessed by now, No, I do not keep any fucking dream potion and I never will."

The door slammed shut.

"...Okay."