With a ding, the toast pops up out of the toaster. You're all dressed and ready for another fresh day in Equestria, where anything and probably everything will happen. Taking the toast out of their slots, you dump them on a paper plate and take a knife out of a drawer. With a few steps, you open the refrigerator and look for...

Three quiet knocks on your front door. You groan to yourself.

"Damn it, HOLD ON!" you call to the door.

You scan the refrigerator for butter, that most holy of spreads that makes your toast complete. But, to your disappointment, nothing resides on your shelf except air. A distinct absence of butter. How dare you. How dare you forget to buy butter at the store, Anon? This is why we can't fucking have nice things. See, I feel like we ask so little, but it's always the same shit. Every damn time. You come home. Crack open a beer. It's like you barely even know I'm fucking HERE anymore. How hard is it to ask a simple "how was your day?" I care about you. I care about your day. I care about your life. But I-

Flutterpriest takes a step back from his computer and stares at the screen.

"Jesus christ. Uh. Okay. I gotta fix this and make this funny."

You slam the fridge door closed and growl on your way to the door, holding your butter knife. Throwing open the door, you point the knife at Fluttershy menacingly.

"Alright horse, what do you want? I'm already am off to a shitty-"

But you pause, because while the creature in front of you resembles Fluttershy, she is clearly not a horse. In fact, she's long, rectangular and... yellow.

"Beep, beep, Anon! I'm butter!" Fluttershy says happily.

You open your mouth to speak, staring down at Buttershy. Her pink hair and eyes are still on the stick of butter that is now her body. And you don't mean that in the "She's fat" way. But, well. Technically she is a fat, but, that joke isn't funny.

"Is butter your fetish, Anon?" she asks.

There is no amount of words you can say that would make this situation normal. This is out there. Even for a fetish guess. A million questions come to mind, but your mind scrambles together your thoughts, and your first question comes out as a jumbled mess of wat.

"How... did you... get here as butter?"

"Oh! Good question!" Fluttershy says. "I don't have hoovesies anymore. So I thought to myself, I butter-fly!"

You pause. Staring at her.

"Actually, Rainbow Dash carried me here."

"Yo!" Rainbow says, waving in the distance.

"Okay, that makes sense."

You look down at your knife, then back to Fluttershy.

"Hey, Fluttershy, can I try something?"

She would tilt her head in confusion, but she's a stick of fucking butter.

"Uhm, sure?"

You place your knife along the top of Fluttershy's back and begin to graze a thin layer of butter off the to-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Fluttershy screams at the top of her lungs.

"IT HURTS. IT HURTS. STOP! STOP!"

"IM SORRY! IM SORRY! IM SORRY!" you scream, and slam the door out of reflex.

You hyperventilate, staring at your closed door, hearing the whimpering, panting Fluttershy on the other side of the door.

This wasn't what you expected. This wasn't what you expected at all.

You butter find a way to apologize tomorrow. Or something. There's no margarine for error.