Did I ever tell you that I’m not a morning pony? Well, it’s actually more like the afternoon really. No, wait, I’d say evening would be more accurate. That won’t work either, this is technically my morning and I’m not gonna start calling my morning evening just to appease you. However, I can’t in good conscience leave you confused about what time of day it is. That would just be rude of me. Books are ponies too after all. There has got to be a way where I still win without you losing…too painfully that is. I can’t say it’s evening cause it’s morning, but I can’t say it’s morning cause it’s evening…conundrums are fun…

You might be surprised to know that this isn’t the first time this has happened to me. Yeah, I’ve been in this situation before. It was actually when I was still at the hospital nursing the burns that retarded mailmare gave me when she burned my damn house down. Nurses and doctors would come in and wake me up during the night/day to see how I was doing. My response to these unwelcome interruptions; curses, lots and lots of curses. And no, I’m not talking about cussing or spewing obscenities, I’m talking about curses. You know, the ones those dirty zebras cast on each other and whatnot? Anyway, they would wake me up and I’d scream as many curses as I could make up. None of chants worked though. Unless you count getting suddenly pregnant a curse, because that totally happened to this fat nurse that wouldn’t leave me alone. You want to know the funniest part? During the day/night I would scream and holler for help and assistance but receive nothing but security guards telling me shut up so that other ponies could sleep. My response? More curses! One of them even worked when this strange barking pony attacked one of the burly security guards who definitely had a fetish for muscles.

I’m not gonna lie Booky, you look confused…was it that day/night thing? Cause I totally told you in paragraph one that would get confusing. I’ll have to think about a way in which I can talk and not…wait…you still don’t have a name! Well crap, here I am complaining about confusing you and I haven’t even named you yet. Let’s get right to that in the next paragraph!

First things first, are you a boy book? I don’t see a table of contents…that must mean no. That must mean you’re a girl! Wait, no, you don’t have an index either. Well crap, what does that mean? Are you both or neither? Shirley was a girl…she had a very ladylike index that I found to be fitting for a book of her stature. You? You don’t even have a gender! Which means Charles is out, which sucks cause I really like that one.

Glenda? Would you like that? No, too not gender blind. How about Ax McHammer? No, too constructiony. Why not Zoidberg? Nah, too crablike. I’m running out of options here Booky. I mean, I could call you Greg, that’s pretty neutral. What do you think Booky, is Greg a good name for you? Cause now that I say it some more I’m starting not to like it. How about Booky, is that one you’d be interested in? It is!? Nah, I know you can’t talk. You’re a book, that’d be weird.

I hereby christen you Booky McHammer.

Alright, where was I? Oh yes, the morning/evening thing. Well, let’s see, I’m in a creative mood at the moment and that usually means creative things. How about evering? Nah, too not good enough. Hm, how about mevening? I like that one; it has all the oomph of an ‘m’ and all the pizzazz of the ‘ing’ ending.

Hard reset!

Good morrow Booky! Did I ever tell you that I’m not a mevening pony? It just never clicks with me. I mean, if Celestia meant for ponies to be all hyperactive and ready for the day in the mevening then she wouldn’t have invented coffee. Anyhay, I just don’t like the mevening. Everypony outside is all happy and not sad and they’re all doing stuff while I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast in peace. Can you believe that!? What more could a stallion ask for?

Worst of all, my mevenings really tend to suck because that’s when ponies usually like to screw around and mess with me. Who do they think they are interrupting me like that? Party invites, mail delivery (If I ever answer the door when that retard comes a knocking she will be in for a world of pain.), package delivery, cake delivery, candygrams, stopping by to say hello, and other annoying things like that. What do they think I am; a welcome mat? Jerks, that’s what they are, they’re all jerks! Especially Pinkie Pie. It seems like it’s every mevening with that stupid mare. She never takes no for an answer unless you hit her in the face with a big N and a big O.

Anymoo, my day is going to be a normal one I suppose. I have to deliver the goodies I found last night to Twilight. She’ll definitely buy it all like she always does. I mean honestly, sometimes I feel really bad about taking advantage of her. Luckily, those times are few and far between. Besides, it isn’t like bits are hard to come by for somepony as intrinsically important as she is. She’s the personal student of the Princess herself!

There’s another point I’d like to bring up; why the hay is she so important! I mean, I’m not complaining that she IS
important; I’m complaining that she is ALWAYS important. If anything ever happens in this place it always has something to do with her. Did Nightmare Moon get out? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Are parasprites eating the town and giving me nearly two months of backbreaking labor to clean the debris up? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Is there a sudden dragon attack on the town giving me months of backbreaking labor to clean the debris up? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Did Discord break free and get defeated, leaving me no mess to clean up for once? You bet Twilight had something to do with it. Did Town Hall just fall apart? You can bet that Twilight didn’t do that. Did my house just burn down? You can bet Derpy did it. Am I burning alive in the flaming remains of my house and possessions? You can bet Derpy did it.

SERIOUSLY! FUCK HER, FUCK HER HARD! THAT FUCKING RETARD JUST NEEDS TO BE GONE AND BE DONE WITH! SERIOUSLY, I'M FUCKING TIRED OF HER!

You know what, Booky? It’s curse time.

THE WALL-EYED MARE IS A PAIN IN THE PLOT AND I HOPE HER LEGS BREAK SO SHE MAY NOT TROT!

GREY PONIES ARE DUMB, STUPID, AND RETARDED AND I HOPE HER BREATH WILL ALWAYS SMELL LIKE SHE FARTED!

Phew! That really helps! Too bad none of that’s gonna happen. She freaking deserves it to happen.

I’d love to stay and talk my old friend, but breakfast is calling for me and I have stuff to do today.