Know your mare, know your mare, know your--

A loud screech interrupted the intro.

...Left with a screech, start with a screech...

...Classy...

"Like you know anything about classy. Dweeb..."

Gilda...

...is a stereotypical greaser bully...

"Stereo-what? What's a greaser?"

Gilda...

...doesn't wash her head...

"I'm a griffon... Why would I wash my head?"

Gilda...

...admits that hygiene isn't on her list of duties...

"I preen regularly!"

What about your fur...?

"I lick it like the rest of my kind do? How about you learn about another race outside of sissy ponies?"

Gilda...

...pecks at her flees...

"W-- Well... N-No! I don't even have flees!"

How many flees must die for you Gilda...?

"None--I mean all--I mean... RAAAAAAH!"

Now you know...

Gilda...

"That's it!? You're stopping there!?"

Yeah...

...you stink...

...It's starting to make us sick...

Gilda snarled sharply before bounding off the stage, wings furled in a ruffle.