You sit on the couch, thumbing through your book of short stories. Whenever you need a good laugh, there's no better way to lift your spirits than with a good book. And this one is fantastic. It's an archive of cleverly thought out original humor with great timing and unique twists on old ideas. You especially loved it because the stories in this series of books never decided to push a joke for too long and never dived into easy outs like fourth wall breaks or referential humor. Then, there's a knock at your door.

You close your eyes, trying to remind yourself that this will only take a second. Putting the bookmark in your novel, you head to the door and stretch before opening the door. Fluttershy stands at your front door, smiling widely with a friend behind her.

"Hi Anon. I was wondering if this-"

"HI AAAANNNEEERRRNNNN," screams the horse behind Fluttershy.

You take a step back, trying to place where this mint-green horse could have met you before.

"Excuse me?" you ask, before the mare with a rock as a cutie mark leaps on you and sits on your face. "I NEED AN ADULT."

"I AM AN ADULT," the mare screams.

"Is, uhm. Is this pony your fetish?" Fluttershy asks.

Picking the pony into your arms, you rise to your feet and step outside.

"DO YOU HAVE CHICK TENDIES?" she asks.

"No," you say.

Holding her in your arms like a javelin, you put all of your might into throwing her across the horizon.

"And stay in your own goddamn story," you mutter. "How did you even bring her here, Fluttershy?"

"I didn't. She just appeared at my doorstep and wanted to see you."

"Oh, I see. Uh. So was that it?"

"No. That wasn't my fetish for today," she says meekly.

"Alright. Fine. Hold on a sec." You step onto the porch and squeeze past her, muttering "Excuse me." Once you're inside the house, you close the door. "Alright. Go ahead," you call through the door.

"Uhm, Anon. The door is closed," she says.

"Yeah?" you call back.

"Well, uh. I was wondering if-"

"No, No! You have to knock!"

A quiet moment passes. Fluttershy makes three quiet, wavering knocks. You open the door.

"Alright, Fluttershy," you say in exasperation. "What is it today?"

Fluttershy stares at you like you've eaten your own boogers. Which, you swear you only do in the privacy of your own shower.

"Uhm, well. I was wondering if homeless, abused fillies are your fetish?"

"Wait, what?" you ask.

But before she can answer you, a third pony peeks around Fluttershy and walks beside her on your porch. The orange little filly that you recognize as Scootaloo peers up at you with tears in her eyes.

"Oh! Wait. Hold on," Fluttershy says. "Finishing touch."

Fluttershy thwacks Scootaloo in the right eye, and it gradually turns a shade of Black and purple.

"D-do you get off to this, Anon?" Scootaloo asks.

Your mouth drops, looking down at at the display in front of you.

"Fluttershy, this might be the most fucked up thing you've ever done. Go the fuck home. I don't want to see you for a week."

The yellow pegasus looks down at the ground, tears in her eyes and flutters away. Scootaloo turns, flapping her tiny malformed wings and blinks tears of pain out of her eyes.

"No. Not you, Scootaloo," you add. "You stay. I'm going to make you pancakes, go practice new scooter tricks with you in the park, and read you a bed-time story and you will fucking like it."

The filly looks up at you, head tilted.

"You know that I actually have parents, right?" she says.

"Oh. Uh. Yeah. I totally knew that. Uh. I meant. Uh. Fuck off."

You slam the door, sweat dripping down your face. Nopony will ever know the massive social faux-pas you made of thinking Scootaloo didn't have parents. I mean, what would people think if the public found out she actually did have parents? Her secret is safe with you. For now, you just have to hope that Fluttershy's guess for tomorrow doesn't involve anything worse than punching a filly in the face.

Author's Notes:

Something Something The Lyler Archive