“Oh goodie, our sundae!” Button Mash exclaimed, eyeing the bowl heaped high with ice cream, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, bananas, and that finishing cherry on top. A straight ticket to diabetes-induced heaven, but boy was it ever worth the trip. He lifted his spoon high above his head, like a sword he would use to pierce through the flesh of his fallen foe and claim victory in battle.

Unfortunately for him and his metaphor, Button’s spoon blow was deflected by Sweetie Belle’s counterattack with her own spoon. Giving Button a sour look, she said, “Button, you mind actually sharing the sundae with me this time?”

Button was taken aback, raising his spoon up defensibly. “Of course I’ll share my—I mean, our ice cream!” He brushed the back of his hoof against his chest and scoffed. “It’s only the gentlecoltly thing to do, after all.”

“Actually, since I bought this ice cream, the sundae is technically mine, isn’t it?” Sweetie shot him a smug grin.

Button scowled, tapping his spoon against his chin. He couldn’t beat sound logic like that… without improvising and coming up with random stuff on the fly, of course. He had grown to become an expert in the field along those lines, as his mother soon experienced whenever she asked why he wasn’t doing his homework or why he got a bad grade on his test.

Showing off his best pathetic and downright pitiful puppy-dog frown, Button whimpered. “But Sweeeeeeeeeeeeetie, you wouldn’t really eat all this ice cream without sharing, would you?” Button added the personal touch of a tear rolling down his cheek.

Sweetie stared at him with a begrudging expression, which finally broke down to a sigh and slight nod. “Fine, we can share. And by sharing, I mean actually share. Leave some for me this time, will you?”

Button nodded eagerly, licking his lips as he sized up his target once more. The fake tear trick works on the mares, every time. However, just as his spoon touched the delectably cold treat, his eyes went wide, and a familiar feeling took root in his mind.

“Oh no,” Button whispered, his spoon falling from his hoof to the floor.

“Did you forget to go to the bathroom again?” Sweetie asked dismissively, already taking a few spoonfuls of ice cream and throwing them in her mouth.

Button shook his head at first, which later turned to a nod. “Actually, yeah, I need to go really bad, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Is it that same thing that caused you to go to months of therapy sessions and a psycho-pediatric ward for the troubled young minds?”

Button shrugged. “Nah, I got over that weeks ago.”

Cutting off a piece of the banana, Sweetie sighed before chewing on her spoonful. “Then what is it?” she asked with a full mouth.

“I have this distinct feeling that somewhere, out there… literally thousands of prepubescent and adult males are complaining about something.” Button scratched his chin, grimacing immensely. “Something… something related to me.”

Button yelped, jumping out of his seat. Falling gracelessly, much like his spoon, onto the floor, the young colt cried out in utter agony while hugging his rear end with his hooves. “Oh dear Celestia, the pain, the pain is just too much!”

Looking down at Button, then back to the sundae, then back to Button again, Sweetie shrugged and continued to scoop ice cream into her mouth.

Button’s behind was awash in a sea of pain. Almost as if butthurt from thousands upon thousands of sources were collectively seizing upon him and his cheeks.

“I can’t handle the butthurt! It’s fiery and filled with pain and regret!” Button cried out, rolling on the floor. The angst that collected onto his butt was just too much to bear, the burden a mighty force of collective testosterone and tear-induced pathetic rage that manifested itself in a pain in his rear end.

Now images appeared in his mind, flooding his thoughts with even more angst and unpleasantness. Cease and desist letters from a strange, higher entity, maybe even God, drifted through his brain, taunting and teasing his subconscious in its cruel joke. Then petitions by the dozens emerged, erupting in rage-fueled hatred to go against God himself. None worked, however.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! My buuuuuuuuuuuuuutt!” Button screamed. He continued this scream, rolling around the table as his shouts and yells became more frantic and girlish.

Sweetie licked off some chocolate from her spoon, burping and giggling at the sound as she completed half of the sundae already. Taking a napkin, she dabbed her lips, then got right back to work, remembering to lift up her hooves from her seat to avoid Button’s body.

Now angry shouts of wrath voiced in an epic battle of complaining and angst that knew no bounds inside his mind. Button himself nearly thought it spelled his end, since most of the voices were directed at him and why he shouldn’t die. Was he dead? Was he about to die? Why didn’t everyone just leave him alone?

And just when it seemed like it was all over, when all hope was lost… it got much worse. His very soul, nay, his essence in the very existence of the universe, was being ripped from this world by some presence in another. Torn to shreds, with those angry voices picking him apart at what’s left. “Noooooooooo! It wasn’t supposed to end this way!” Button whimpered, tears flooding down his face. “Not like this…” Soon enough, he'll become nothing entirely, not even an empty shell left.

“Ooh, a bit!” Button shouted. He got up, a shiny coin in his hoof.

“Button, that’s a button,” Sweetie said, chewing on the cherry that had once graced the top of the majestic mountain of ice cream.

Button’s smile fell in a flash, staring at his false coin which was actually just an ordinary button. “But… my bit.” It fell to the floor as tears welled up in his eyes.

“Also, all the ice cream is gone.” Sweetie smacked her lips and licked her hoof. “You were too busy with another one of your episodes.”

Button fell to the ground, throwing his hooves up in the air and screaming, “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo—ooh, a bit!”

“Button again, Button.”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”