The bile and filth washes down the toilet, and begins to refill with clear, clean water. Your stomach churns and cramps. Holding yourself up on your bathroom counter, you pull up your pants and try to recompose yourself.

There is nothing worse than being sick. When you're sick, you get the feeling of wanting to do everything you normally do, but the chains of illness keep you bedridden or close to a bathroom. The culprit this time? A cup of soup that you swore hadn't gone bad just yet. It was almost the only thing you had left in your fridge. You only have five more bits. Every one of them has to count.

Taking the glass by the sink, you fill it with a few inches of water and gently sip it, getting the taste of rancid chicken noodle out of your mouth. This was the fifth time in the bathroom this hour alone. You can feel your mouth and lips grow dry as your body has quickly removed all water and toxins from your body, and now flake at the edges.

Three knocks on the door downstairs force you to look into the mirror. Of course. Fluttershy's here. As you've been vomiting and shitting your brains out. What wonderful fucking timing. What could be worse? Will she break something and you'll go broke today? That would be fan-fucking-tastic.

You straighten yourself and rinse your mouth out with some mouthwash before heading downstairs. Honestly? One of these days, you might as well move away. But where to? The 'Elements' go to Canterlot all the time, so that's out. So then what's left? Baltimare? Phillydelphia? Manehattan?

Manehattan. Something feels right about that.

But now isn't the time. You get downstairs and head to the door. Right as she begins to knock again, you throw open the door, your stomach churning once more.

"Good Morning Ano- Anon! Are you okay? You look terribly ill."

"Yeah, just some food poisoning I guess. I- Wait. You didn't fucking poison me today, did you?" you say, reflexively.

Fluttershy looks up at you in shock.

"A-anon! T-this is twice now that you've thought I'd do something terrible to you. D-do you really think I'm such a bad mare as to hurt you like that?"

You stare down at her incredulously.

"Let's call it a hunch. Cause, honestly? Right now? I'm almost broke, Fluttershy. They're going to seize my house eventually. I have no job. I have nothing to live on. No food. And right now? I'm sicker than a dog. So please. All I want right now is some peace and quiet. Do your guess, and go home."

Fluttershy raises a hoof, then places it on her mouth. She looks to the ground, her ears folded and tail sagging.

"I-I had no idea I had such a negative impact on you, Anon. I-I... I'm sorry."

She takes a step away before raising her eyes to you.

"Come on, you came all the way here to do a fetish guess. Do it already. We're all waiting for it. Just fucking do it," you say, raising your arms to indicate an invisible audience behind you.

She stutters, then looks to the ground once more.

"I-Is holding hooves your fetish?" she asks.

"I've been vomiting, pissing, shitting my brains out all day, but that's the grossest, most repulsive thing I've heard today. Fucking disgusting," you say, before slamming the door in her face.

You take three steps way from the door, before there's three more quiet knocks at the door. Your fists clench. A growl burns in your throat. Or is that burp? Or oncoming vomit? .... No, it's a growl. We're good.

You turn on your feet and throw the door open once more.

"Fucking Wha-"

But, Fluttershy is flying off in the distance. You look down to your porch, and there, sitting on the welcome mat is a little yellow pouch. You lean over and pick it up, and inside is at least 100 bits, with a little slip of paper.

You unfold the paper and notice there's a note.

"I'll be back tomorrow with a job for you. I'm sorry. - Fluttershy"

You crumple the paper in your hand and look to the sky.

What does this mean? Is this another trap? You feel another growl in your stomach. Wait. No. That one's vomit. You toss the bag on the floor of your home, slam the door and run upstairs.