What you usually do with bananas, she can do with a pineapple, but much better.
Sometimes, there are those rare cases when a patient is normal. Seriously, there are only a few relatively normal ponies I know and Maud Pie is most definitely one of them. Sheâs calm, she doesnât bleed on the floor, and she always follows the recommendations when taking meds. Thatâs why when I see her in the ER Iâm kinda glad that, for once, I wonât have to do something thatâll give me mental images I most definitely donât want.
âI have a stick stuck in my ass,â Maud says in her dull monotone.
I immediately write âNFPâ in my notebook. It stands for âNormal For Ponyvilleâ. Really, if I had a bit for every object I ever pulled out of someoneâs rectum, I wouldnât have to come here every day. Though on the other hoof, Iâm pretty sure some of those bits would still have shit on them.
âWhy do you have a stick in your ass?â I ask. I mean, there are plenty of ponies with sticks in there, though most of them are metaphorical.
âI told Mudbriar to shove his rod in there,â Maud replies without a slightest flinch or blush. âTurns out, heâs bad with metaphors.â
I raise my eyebrows a little bit. A lot of ponies are bad with metaphors. For example, Sweetheart recently told Atom Heart something about dead patients âno longer playing recordsâ and on the next day Atom Heart brought a gramophone to the morgue.
âI seeâŠâ, I mutter. âAny discomfort?â
âSplinters.â Maud shrugs.
âYeah, thatâs most definitely an issue,â I reply. âAnything else?â
âMy sister has a crippling alcohol addiction.â
I raise my eyebrows. âPinkie?â
Maud thinks for a moment. âTwo of my sisters have a crippling alcohol addiction.â
âWe have specialists who can take care of that,â I reply, seeing that this conversation is getting out of hoof. For now, the most important thing is her ass.
On a second thought, this sounded much better in my head. Luckily, itâll stay there.
âAs for you, Dr. Semicolon is waiting for you in the room number three,â I say. âDonât worry, heâs a specialist.â
Yes, we actually hired a doctor who is a specialist in getting stuff out of various orifices. With about one case every three days (including kids shoving crayons up their noses; on a somewhat related note, I still think Apple Bloomâs family tree doesnât quite add up), it was only a matter of time. And you really donât want to know what his cutie mark is.
Okay, itâs a donut. Although, as Sweetheart noted, a pretty suggestive one, with chocolate and sprinkles. And before someone asks, soon after Dr. Semicolon was hired, we had to reset our âdays since Sweetheart last cucked her husbandâ counter. Fifth time this year.
Maud stands up and leaves my office. She walks quite normally, so I guess the stick isnât that big, after all. To each their own, I guess. I fill the paperwork and call another patient. Itâs actually one of those rare days when I have time to actually write something rather than memorise it and write it down later. Or have an intern write it for me.
The next patient is one of those kids from the Friendship School. Since it was built, all our statistics skyrocketed like Rainbow Dash after eating a cauldron of baked beans. Accidents, fights, hair loss, births, deaths, all kind of stuff. Weâre even more understaffed than before; if it continues, even Sweetheart may lose weight soon.
At least this guy is a pony. Not that I mind, but when I first tried to take a blood sample from a changeling, it melted a syringe. Not to mention that, as Nursery found out, any attempts to vaccinate a yak end with wrestling moves and countless needles lost in the thick fur.
âGood morning, Ms. Redheart,â he says.
âNurse Redheart,â I mutter before I can stop myself. I may be staring into poniesâ butts for money, but letâs have some standards, shall we? âWhatâs your name?â I ask, grabbing a pen and a new form.
âSandbar,â he replies, sweating heavily. Not sure why, unless he has a nurse fetish. âActually, Iâm hâhere to ask about a friendâŠâ
I wonder if itâs some homework or other shit. Donât get me wrong, but back in my day, we didnât need school to learn about friendship. On the other hoof, maybe thatâs why all my friends are dysfunctional halfwits with sadistic tendencies.
âIs he a pony?â I need to know that because if his friend is a griffon, it means different meds, different doses, a lot of different things in general. Medical school prepares you to a lot of things, but not to patients who try to challenge you to a duel. Unless youâre in the nuthouse, then itâs pretty much inevitable.
âUmm⊠Yes, kinda.â Sandbar lowers his head, staring at the floor. âRecently, he got those red spots on his, ummâŠâ
Oh, itâs that kinda friend. Here we go, Redheart. Time to be subtle. âIs he a close friend?â I ask.
Sandbar looks at me. âWhat do you mean?â
âFriend with benefits?â I ask. âA coltfriend, maybe?â
If it was Sweetheart, the conversation would probably go faster. Sheâd just call him a faggot and get suspended again. But at least sheâd be done with the guy once and for all.
âNâno, Iâm not gay,â Sandbar replies.
Okay, that leaves only one possibility. âCould you show me your, as you put it, âfriendâ, then?â I ask.
âWhat do you mean?â Sandbarâs eyes widen.
âYou keep shifting your legs like you had an itch.â I sigh. âAlso, no one in their right mind goes to the ER to talk about their friendâs dick, unless it plays a very important role in their lives. You caught something, didnât you?â
Sandbar nods, his face red.
âNo reason to be ashamed,â I say. âYou can talk freely about it to me. Youâre notââ
âI got it from a girl,â Sandbar mutters, spreading his legs slightly and revealing the textbook symptoms of what we call Prench disease. Iâm pretty sure they call it Equestrian disease in Prance, so in order to avoid an international conflict, doctors called it âsyphilisâ, which is fancy for âI shouldâve thought twice before coming in hereâ.
âYouâd better tell her to get tested, then,â I say. âSpeaking of, Iâll need a blood sample from you. Also, youâre in for a consultation with a venereologist and getting antibiotics. And no friendship with benefits lessons for you.â
Sandbar looks at me unsurely. âWe donâtââ
âAh, so it was extracurricular classes,â I reply. âAnyway, the venereologistâs office is last door to the left, labelled âSpecific Stomach Specialistâ. Youâd never believe how many ponies are ashamed toââ I look at him. âI guess you would believe.â
Sandbar nods and grabs the papers I prepared for him. I swear, one day weâll drown in all this paperwork. I take a blood sample from him and label the test tube. The head of our lab, Test Tube is pretty strict about his test tubes. Especially when, due to a mix-up with samples, it turned out that Big Macintosh was pregnant, but at least Sugar Belleâs prostate was fine.
After he leaves, I take a look outside, but it seems he was the last patient for now. Instead, I see Nursery dragging a gurney with a body covered by a bedsheet. Not a common sight, Iâd say.
âWhoâs this?â I ask, pointing at the body.
âMr. Dust,â Nursery replied. âThis old coffin dodger finally bites it. And now I owe Tenderheart five bits.â
Mr. Dust was a kind of a legend of the intensive care ward. The guy was only sixty, but over his life he managed to get some STDs, lung cancer, hepatitis and pancreatitis. And, after the cancer treatment left him bald and thin, he made up for it and in two years ended up morbidly obese and with diabetes so bad that he lost a part of his wing.
Recently, he was recovering from a hospital-acquired head injury. More exactly, he smacked Sweetheartâs butt. He never knew what smacked him back.
âGreat,â I mutter. âI see youâre betting now too. Did he have any family?â
âA daughter, I think.â Nursery shrugs. âColdheart already called her.â
I sigh. âTry not to mention betting in her presence. And now take daddy to the rose cottage and wait for the daughter to show up.â
âSure!â Nursery salutes and darts forwards, nearly losing Mr. Dust in process. She has a lot of enthusiasm, thatâs for sure.
The next two hours are mostly uneventful. I catch up with my paperwork and then eat my lunch. Iâm about to go find Sweetheart, Coldheart, and Tenderheart to grab some coffee and exchange gossip, but then I see another two patients. Judging by the ruckus theyâre making, itâs gonna be difficult.
âOh, shut up!â an orange dragon of non-assumable gender yells at another dragon who I recognise as the Dragon Lord Ember herself. You know, I read newspapers and shit. I wonder if itâs customary for dragons to tell their lord to shut up.
âYouâre not my real mom!â the dragon shouts.
Okay, so itâs a family issue.
âThatâs because your real mom kicked you out and now sheâs too busy sitting on a pile of gold to take care of her eggs or whatever crawled out of them,â Ember replies. âAlso, itâs not a matter of me being your mom but your health.â
Guess itâs time to intervene. I walk to the two dragons, putting on my most professional smile. âHow can I help you?â
âSmolder caught the pony disease,â Ember replies.
The pony disease? I guess I should be offended.
âWhat do you mean by that?â I ask. The days when weâd send sick dragons to the vet are long gone, but itâs still hard to compare their disease names to ours.
Ember puts her claws on Smolderâs ears. âThe one you get from too much fucking,â she whispers.
âIâm not a kid!â Smolder yells, pushing Emberâs claws away. âAnd I fucked before, okay? You donât have to tell it to everyone!â
âNot bad!â someone shouts. âCan you fuck me too, dude?â
I turn to see whoâs that. Cloud Kicker, of course. Guess sheâs hanging around and trying to steal meds, as usual.
Smolder pouts. âIâm not a dude!â
Cloud Kicker smirks. âThatâs not a problem.â
âWeâll better take this conversation to my office, okay?â I mutter. âAlso, Cloud Kicker, if you donât fancy a trip to the rehab, get the fuck out.â
A few minutes later, I get to hear the whole story, often interrupted by both dragons yelling at each other. Apparently Smolder thinks itch and chancres arenât that bad and would never come here if it wasnât for Ember. Great thinking. I was always wondering howâd the symptoms of tertiary syphilis look on dragons.
âDonât worry,â I say once thereâs a moment of silence. âOur resident dracologist will calculate the dose of antibiotics for you. Also, you should inform your partners thatââ
âWell, Iâd like to know who was that,â Ember says.
âOver my dead body,â Smolder replies, crossing her arms.
Theyâre about to start arguing again, but at the same moment Test Tube bursts into my office. The guy never knocks, especially not when science is at the stake. âHi, Redheart,â he says. âWe got the first results of that guy of yours.â
âTest TubeâŠâ I whisper, discreetly pointing at Ember and Smolder. Fat chance. This guy wouldnât notice an elephant in the room, not to mention two dragons.
âWeâre ordering more tests,â Test Tube says. âPolymerase Chain says it may be that rare kind of spirochetes that mostly occur in hippogriffs.â
Smolder gets up from her seat, her face red. âThat two-timing bastard!â she exclaims. âHe said Silverstream was just a friend! Iâm gonna kill him!â She bursts out of the office, slamming the door.
Ember shakes her head. âKids these days. One day they hatch from an egg and the next day they enslave a village, eat sheep, or start piling up gold.â
âHow old is she?â I ask. âA teenager?â
âFor dragons, yes,â Ember replies. âSheâs about forty, actually.â
âYeah, thatâs the worst age,â I mutter. âYouâd better find her before she finds the guy. I donât want any fire breathing in this hospital, okay?â
Ember turns to me. âDid you just assume we breathe fire indoors?â After a moment of uncomfortable silence she shrugs. âWell, I guess she may try to fry him.â
âMake sure she doesnât fry the whole place.â I shudder. Ember takes off and flies down the corridor, searching for Smolder. Iâd follow her, but I notice Lily Valley sitting in the waiting room next to an enormous cat carrier.
Now, donât get me wrong. We try not to discriminate patients due to their addictions and Lily is not an exception. When she has another debilitating panic attack due to her habit of swallowing various pills, we help her, no matter what is our opinion on her. I even donât give a shit about her roommate Daisy thinking that sheâs a goat, no. However, I have a hard time believing those two after they brought a seemingly dead Roseluck to the hospital and tried to sell her for organs.
Well, not that Iâm the one to talk. It was actually Sweetheart who was talking with them because I was in the nuthouse, drawing sick shit and rethinking my life choices.
I hear a loud meowing coming from the carrier. If I didnât know that lions donât meow, Iâd guess that this imbecile mistook one for a kitty.
âThis is not a vet,â I say. âAlso, you missed your visit in the rehab. Fifth time this year.â
âOh, the horror,â Lily mutters in a flat voice, rolling her eyes. âI have bigger problems right now.â
âYou got yourself a cat?â I ask in a tone I usually reserve for foals, runaway mental patients, and Atom Heart.
âFuck no,â Lily shudders. âItâs Roseluck. She went mental again.â
âHow come?â I ask. âAnd where did you get a cat carrier that big?â
âGarage sale.â Lily shrugs. âYou wouldnât believe what ponies keep in their houses. Anyway, she put on that ridiculous collar with a bell and started to pretend that sheâs a cat. As if Daisy being a damn goat wasnât enough.â
My expression probably says âyouâre shitting meâ right now because Lily sighs and opens the cat carrier. Thereâs some ruckus inside, but after a while, Lily manages to grab Roseluckâs tail with her teeth and drag her outside, kicking and meowing. Roseluck tries to scratch her which is even more dangerous because of her hooves.
âGood kitty!â I exclaim. âGet her to the room!â
âIâm trying,â Lily replies, struggling while Roseluck tries to run away. âShe probably thinks youâre a vet.â
âTell her that sheâs gonna be spayed if she doesnât shut up.â I open the door, helping Lily to get the hissing Roseluck inside. âDoes anyone have a ball of yarn?â
Before I find one, Roseluck manages to drop my coffee mug from the table and tries to jump on the top of the closet, but fails badly. At least she lands on all four. This and a copious amount of a tranquiliser I give her when she tries to get her bearings calms her down a bit. She eventually curls into a ball, trying to lick her crotch, but not quite reaching there. Well, not everyone is Blossomforth.
âSo, what exactly happened?â I ask, petting Roseluckâs mane.
âShe had those attacks from time to time,â Lily replies. âNothing bad, as long as she doesnât try to climb up the curtains or bring dead birds home. But today she really freaked out.â
Hmm, I wonder what she means by that. I mean, if you find the fact that your roommate occasionally behaves like a cat normal, what do you mean by âreally freaked outâ? She shat on the floor or what? âWhat exactly triggered that, umm⊠breakdown?â I ask.
Lily shrugs. âDunno, maybe that dead guy in the backroom.â
Time to call Faint Heart and ask about a room for two. Or actually, make that three. As I found out some time ago, my mental health is rather fragile. âWhat dead guy?â
âNo idea, he just kinda appeared, okay?â Lily groans. âWho cares about dead guys in my backroom?â
âQuite a few ponies,â I reply, thinking of a stun gun I keep in the drawer of my desk in case the patient turns out to be barking mad. Or meowing mad, in this case. âPolice, for starters.â
âOh, they wouldnât find their way out of the paper bag,â Lily replies. âWhat do you think they did when we found the first body?â She rubs Roseluckâs belly absentmindedly. âOn a second thought, maybe we shouldnât have adorned it with flowers.â
âThere were more bodies?â I ask, shuffling my legs and opening the drawer slightly.
Lily scratches her chin. âFive, so far. We thought the funeral house was dropping them at our house so we could prepare some wreaths. You know, to see if they work with the deceasedâs coat and so on.â
âSounds kinda morbid,â I say.
âYeah, the headless guy was a bit much.â Lily shrugs, petting Roseluck, whoâs purring quietly. âI mean, whoâd even want an open coffin after that? Well, unless they wanted to show the guyâs dick to the whole world for the last time because he had a huge boner andââ
The door to my office opens. Judging by the heavy hoofsteps and breathing suggesting beginnings of asthma, itâs Sweetheart. Sheâs like a boner genie. Mention an erect, throbbing cock and sheâll appear.
âDid someone say âbonerâ?â she asks, furrowing her eyebrows when she sees Lily and Roseluck. âIf you want to sell her for organs again, make sure sheâs dead first.â
âSpeaking of, this was dead guyâs boner,â I mutter.
âEwwâŠâ Sweetheart winces. âIâll leave this one to Coldheart, then. And while weâre at dead guys, have you seen Mr. Dust? His daughter is here.â She pointed at the yellow-maned pegasus standing in the corridor with an expression more bored than solemn.
âIâve seen Nursery taking him to the mortuary,â I reply.
âHeâs not there,â Sweeheart says. âSo unless the guy woke up and went for a walk, which wouldnât be the first timeâŠâ She looks at Roseluck who meows. âWhat the fuck?â
âI was just going to refer her to the psychiatrist,â I mutter, grabbing the papers from my desk.
âStart with Tenderheart,â Sweetheart replies. âShe mentioned something about two dragons walking around the hospital and arguing. Maybe she and Cloud Kicker swapped some pills, dunno.â
âAh, you didnât get the memo that dragons are cool now, okay,â I mutter. âSeeing them doesnât necessarily mean the patient is crazy.â
âTell that to Berry Punch,â Sweetheart replies. âI remember her swallowing like, the whole periodic table in some shady liquor. Dragons were just the first part of the steaming river of shit sheâd seen before she sobered up.â
âI had a dragon with an STD today,â I say, turning to Mr. Dustâs daughter. âYou havenât heard that. We canât really talk about our patients.â
Mr. Dustâs daughter shrugs. âWell, today I learned that my father whom I havenât seen for twenty years died, then I heard his body got lost and now Iâm stuck with you two, a mare who behaves like a cat, and her retarded friend. Believe me, I ran out of the fucks to give long before you told me about a dragon with an STD.â
âWho are you calling retarded?â Lily asks.
âThe cat ladyâs friend.â The pegasus rolls her eyes, seeing that Lily turns back to see if thereâs no one behind her. Unfortunately, the only thing behind her is the door of the psych ward.
I knock on it. âFaint Heart? You there? We have a patient for you.â
I hear the clicking of multiple locks and the door eventually opens. Faint Heart trots out, fixing her thick glasses. âRedheart!â she exclaims. âIâve been wondering when youâd come back. Weâre having a chess tournament.â
âInteresting,â I mutter. âI thought the last one was cancelled after one of the contestants ate all the pieces. Besides, you need to take care of this mare here. Sheâs behaving like a cat.â
It takes a while before my words reach whatever planet Faint Heart is currently on. âSo, we canât put her in one room with Screw Loose. But hey, I got socks for all of you!â
âWhat.â Sweetheart mutters.
âYeah, for you too. I have a lot of time to make them,â Faint Heart says, turning to Mr. Dustâs daughter. âAnd for you too, stranger. Whatâs your name?â
âUmm⊠Lightning Dust,â the pegasus replies, turning to me. âWhatâs wrong with this retard?â she whispers.
âLong story,â I reply, grabbing the socks from Faint Heart. She doesnât always remember that all four socks should look the same, but at least theyâre comfortable. Lightning reluctantly accepts hers, while Faint Heart puts socks on Roseluck, who immediately lies on her back, exposing her belly and meowing.
Lily blushes. âI need to, umm⊠go to the toilet.â
Sweetheart smirks. âThird door on the left. I go there to rub one off too.â
âWe didnât need to know that, thank you,â I mutter. Sweetheart can be way too open about things going on around her ass. Which is a lot of things since her ass has its own gravity field.
Anyway, we drop Roseluck at the psych ward and Lily decides to spend some time masturbating. That leaves me and Sweetheart with the important task of finding Lightning Dustâs father. Or whatâs left of him. Of course the obvious solution would beâ
âI think weâre missing the obvious solution,â Sweetheart says. âWe need to ask Nursery where the body is.â
âAre you learning telepathy from Heartless?â I shrug. âAlso, first weâd have to know where Nursery is.â
âOh, thatâs easy,â Sweetheart replies. âWhere the hell are you, you fucking runt?!â she yells.
Nursery immediately pops out from behind the corner. Her hat is slightly skewed and sheâs panting as if sheâd been running. âNot your business, fatass,â she replies.
Lightning Dust tilts her head, looking at Nursery. âYou hire kids as nurses now?â
âNah, she just looks like this,â I reply. âAlso, a drunken patient once tried to put a tankard of beer on her head, but itâs generally not a good idea. She bites knees off when sheâs angry.â
Nursery rolls her eyes. âThis only happened once.â
âColdheart touched a dead patientâs dick only once too, but this doesnât stop you from laughing at her,â Sweetheart replies.
âAnyway,â I say, âwhere did you put Mr. Dustâs body? Heâs not in the morgue.â
Nursery freezes. âI did what you told me.â
âAnd what did I tell you?â I ask. Seriously, I donât remember; I was busy taking care of kids with syphilis and other shit.
âTo put it in Roseâs cottage,â Nursery replies.
Oh, fuck me with a colonoscopy tube. âI said ârose cottageâ.â I frown, staring at Nursery. âAs in, the mortuary. Not Roseâs cottage.â
Nursery stands silently for a while, processing what I just said. âShit,â she mutters eventually and runs off.
Lightning Dust stands still for a while raising her eyebrows and staring at the place where Nursery was. Her jaw drops; it seems that she still canât get her bearings.
âWhatâs bothering you?â I ask.
Lightning Dust shrugs. âCan I sue the hospital for that?â
âSure, go ahead,â I reply. âYouâd better piss off Sweetheart too. Itâll looks better in court if you show up with a black eye.â
âIâll keep that in mind,â Lightning Dust says. We walk downstairs, finding quite a crowd of patients waiting for us. Most of them are bundled in one corner of the waiting room. The only exceptions are Sandbar, who looks like heâd been thrown down a flight of stairs and then mauled by a yak. Conveniently, thereâs a yak nearby. A small one, at least for a yak. Sheâs accompanied by Smolder, Ember, and Nursery Rhyme with a corpse on a gurney, covered with a bedsheet. Well, thatâd explain why all the normal patients decided to back off.
âYona wants to see dead pony,â the yak says.
Nursery frowns. âItâs a body, not a roadshow. Also, you just yak-smashed this guy, so no bodies for you.â
âYak seen dead bodies before,â Yona protests. âYak have a lot of them back home.â
âTime to bring modern medicine to Yakyakistan.â Nursery rolls her eyes. âYour medical record was written on a stone plate and our best yakologists are still trying to translate some of the ideograms.â
Time to intervene before Nursery gets sent off to a sensitivity training or, more likely, yak-smashed again. âWhatâs going on here?â I ask, looking at Sandbar and helping him up. âWhy did you beat him?â
âSmolder started,â Yona replies. âAnd he gave Yona fire in herââ She waves her hoof around her butt.
âVagina,â Sweetheart says, turning to Sandbar and nodding slowly. âNot bad at all.â
âHmmâŠâ I mutter, making a quick count. âIt seems that we have a really big friendship problem.â
Lightning Dust raises her hoof. âExcuse me, can I take a look at my dad before I take him to the funeral house?â
âOf course,â Nursery replies, uncovering Mr. Dustâs face. Lightning walks to the gurney with tears in her eyes. For a while, she looks at the body, lowering her head.
Then, she raises her hoof and punches the deceased, almost pushing him off the gurney. âThatâs for mom, you motherfucker!â she yells before turning to us and smiling sheepishly. âSorry, had to get that out.â
I look at Sweetheart. âWeâd better take care of Sandbar,â I mutter.
âYeah, letâs do this.â
Finally, a few days later, everypony and every creature gathers in my office. Sandbar, covered in bandages, Smolder, Yona, Silverstream, whoâs apparently the patient zero, Gallus, who also got syphilis from Silverstream, and Ocellus â sheâs actually fine, though not for the lack of trying. Apparently most bacteria donât do well in the changeling system.
I also invited Twilight Sparkle whoâs accompanied by Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Spike. I keep some anti-anxiety pills on my desk, just in case. The princess seems rather stressed. The stun gun is also near my hoof, if things go that bad. Also, I always wanted to tase Rainbow Dash.
It takes me a while to explain the whole situation before asking the most important question. âDo you have sex-ed in your curriculum?â
Twilightâs eye twitches. âN-noâŠâ she replies. âI didnât think itâd be necessary.â
âDonât worry, Twilight, I got it covered.â Rainbow Dash smiles. The stun gun is really tempting right now. âI have a lot of educational videosââ
âYâall can shove those videos where the sun doesnât shine, sugarcube,â Applejack replies. âAh have a brother.â
I freeze for a moment, but quickly regain my composure. âNo, I think I already have a professional. You know those ponies who teach sex-ed with a crate of bananas and condoms? Sweetheart can teach you sex-ed with a pineapple.â
Twilight raises her eyebrows, apparently haunted by this mental image. At the same moment, the door of my office opens and Sweetheart walks in. Sheâs wearing sunglasses and carrying a pineapple. Bloody show-off.
âSorry, I got late,â she says. âMy butt mark started to vibrate and I couldnât waste such an occasion.â
Twilight looks at her. âI have a questionâŠâ
âDonât worry, your friendshipness.â Sweetheart smiles. âI have over twenty years of experience, a daughter, and healthy relationship.â
âRelationships,â I whisper.
âThe more the merrier.â Sweetheart chuckles. âSoââ She pauses when the door of my office opens again and Test Tube walks in. Seriously, this guy needs to start knocking. And stop revealing private informations about patients when everyone can hear.
âI was wrong about that syphilis,â Test Tube says before I can grab the stun gun. âAdditional tests revealed that itâs a common dragon syphilis. Even Vinyl Scratch got that once, but donât ask me how.â
Sandbar frowns, looking at Smolder. âDragon syphilis?â
âUmmâŠâ Smolder looks around until her gaze lands on Spike who smiles sheepishly. âDude, not coolâŠâ
âI donât know where I got it, I swear!â Spike exclaims. âUnless it wasââ He collapses, getting hit by roughly fifty thousand volts of electricity.
âThatâs not important right now,â Twilight says, levitating my stun gun back on my desk. âCan I get some pills?â