Pony Megathread

[failedALIAS]

By the way, I'm working on a story, and want to post it to FIMfiction. I'm very passionate about it, but I think I'd like to hear what you all have to say. I have yet to move on past the introduction. I'll post it here for feedback.

Spoiler below!

Equestrian Psycho: An American Psycho Parody



"Isn't that building going to be renovated next month?" Clean Cut's cheek was planted on the carriage's left window, a look of disinterest on his face. From the bags under his eyes, I could tell he had failed to get much sleep after last night's fiasco; though this was the same for me and Joe. Yet, when I looked over at Joe, his features were clearly more focused and alert. Meaning, he either had a better routine than me or Clean, or he was on enough steroids to kill a smaller pony. Celestia forbid it's the first possibility.

The four of us were crammed in the same tiny vehicle: Clean Cut, Joe Press, Sky, and myself. It wasn't often that any of us took this route, so we could never anticipate the potholes and when to brace ourselves. This, added with the stuffy atmosphere, put us all on edge.

I was seated between Sky, to my left, and Joe, to my right. Clean Cut was seated on the far left of the carriage, making mindless chit chat as he always did. It must have been something he inherited from his mother or nanny. Maybe a sister, though I wasn't sure if he had any siblings.

Sky nuzzled me, working her snout up and down my jawline. Whether it was a display of affection, or flirting, I couldn't tell. I decided to ignore it. Holding up my same passive expression as the carriage sped forward.

Though, I couldn't help but occasionally glare at each passing bum. Their faces drooped and eyes lazy. It was probably because they were drunk, or stupid -- neither would've surprised me -- that they kept the same face all day long. It was little past five and many of them were already slumped over, either rubbing the sleep out of their eyes with grime-covered hooves, or downing bottles of daisy scotch.

"There's another one!" Joe exclaimed excitedly. He pointed his hoof at the latest homeless pony that the carriage had passed.

"No fair," Clean replied. "I was just about to call it." He shot Joe a nasty look before returning to his jabbering. "I suppose it's to be expected. I hear the right side of this street is the living waste hotspot of the neighborhood," Clean said, trying to sound cool and unbothered. Despite this, his eyes were darting about the side walks, hoping to snatch the next point for himself. "I read an article in the Stable that estimates the homeless population to be up eight percent," he continued, blabbing about decay in Canterlot and other garbage. I gave up trying to fish some importance from Clean's puddle of words, instead turning my gaze back to the passing city.



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