You move to your coffee pot, one of your truest friends in the hardest of times. The bringer of mornings, the maker of hot water for tea in stressful evenings. Much like the toaster, your coffee maker has never ceased to provide you a constant stream of happiness, and liquid refreshment. And also deeply complicates how this world has electricity, but no noticeable infrastructure for electricity like power plants or wires, but that's more on the writer as a failure for world building rather than a reflection of you as a character. So deep breaths. You're fine. You are a good person.

Grabbing a mug, you pour some of that black gold into a mug and give it a strong whiff. Today you have a new blend of beans, roasted with subtle hints of artificial white chocolate raspberry flavors. As terrible as it is for you, you can't help but sip the drink and feel like you're drinking a small chocolate bar, that was mixed with coffee. Probably because it's coffee made to taste like a chocolate bar.

There are three gentle knocks at your front door, and you're instantly knocked out of happy-fun-time land.

Mug in hand, you move to the front door, trying to come up with a new, fresh, and unique insult for today's guess.

Sure enough, on the other side of the door is that fucking horse. Fluttershy. Flutterbutterstutters sits patiently on your doormat, looking up at you with a happy, heartwarming greeting, like the doormat she is.

"Good Morning, Anon," she says with her normal soothing voice. Her ears perk slightly as she rises to her hooves. "How are-"

"Get the fuck on with it, you fucking wank," you say, trying to put on some sort of cockney accent, but settling for somewhere between a southern-belle and a dying Australian. "Whatsa cheeky-breeki cunt like you got for me today?"

Fluttershy pauses, staring up at you like you murdered a bunny in her face.

"I think you just offended five different ethnicities in two sentences, Anon."

"Yeah, well," you say, growling. "I gotta do something to keep this shit fresh. What do you want."

"Well, I'm not sure if you noticed," she says turning her head to display her right ear. "I have a new accessory."

You pause, staring at the little object dangling from her ear. You recognize it. Not from Equestria, but from Earth. It's a fucking cattle tag. Like the plastic tags they attach to animal's ears so they can be returned to their owner when they get lost.

"I even made it out for you, Anon," she says quietly, a deep red flushing on her cheeks. "I-it's pretty kinky. I-it means you own me."

"Fluttershy," you say quietly. "Slavery is not my fetish."

"Slavery!" Fluttershy exclaims. "OH! nononono! This isn't slavery! W-well, I mean it can be, uhm. but-- W-when you tag a pony, it's. Uhm. Like putting a collar on a dog."

"Wait, are you saying that I've tagged you?"

"Yes," she says happily. "And if you have just a moment, I have a nice fresh tag for you sitting here in my bag, let me just--"

You slam the door in her face, and then lock the door.

Fuck man, who would have thought this tagging shit would have escalated so quickly? You know what? Fuck this. It's time for more coffee.

Author's Notes:

I kinda had to.