Today, our scene starts not in a warm comfy bed, but in a cold, tiled room. A heartbeat monitor ticks softly above the headboard. The sun slowly sets outside the window.

And in a strange turn of events, you aren't the one in the hospital bed. Instead, it's Fluttershy.

For some reason, Fluttershy decided to place you as her sole benefactor to everything she owns in her will. Which, I mean, is pretty cool. But you learned this because the hospital called you.

You sit in a chair beside Fluttershy's bed, looking down into your hands. And nopony knows when she'll wake up.

Then, suddenly, she shudders. Her eyes peek open as you straighten your posture. She turns to you, gently breathing, her eyes half-lidded.

"Hey, Anon."

"Hey," you reply.

She smiles and closes her eyes.

"I guess this is it, huh?" Fluttershy asks.

"Don't say that," you say. "We still have so much shitposting to do."

She shakes her head slowly, then sighs.

"Anon, can I ask you one last thing?"

"No, necrophilia isn't my fetish."

"GOSH DARNIT," she screams, tossing all of the monitors off of her and trotting out of the hospital.

Hey, what can you say? Fucking called it.