Birth control · 7:04am Oct 11th, 2017
Esmeralda had this to say: “Foosh.” She delivered this statement with as much aplomb as she could muster, still looking rather distraught, but there was something else in her eyes that could only be described as devious intelligence. She was, as her father was quick to point out, a manipulator, and she knew how to get her father’s attention.
Copperquick was the first to notice and he almost choked on his food as his eyebrows took off and flew south. Lifting his head, he coughed, and a second later, Buttermilk was fanning the air in frantic desperation with her wings. Midge’s pompadour lost its poomf and fell flat upon his head, the slick strands falling down into his eyes. The only pony unphased by the sudden deadly miasma was Butter Fudge, who leaned back into her chair and sniffed.
“Oi, that’s healthy,” she remarked, not bothered by the death fog in the slightest. “Formula… it just isn’t good for foals, but goat’s milk is. It’s quite rich, you know. Little Esme quite seemed to enjoy it, but I don’t think her stomach is used to anything that rich. Oi.”
“Egads.” Copperquick managed to choke out the words but could do nothing else.
“What’s wrong with all of you? It’s like you lot have never cracked one off, I’m sure.” The big mare inhaled, breathing through her nose, and then turned to look at her daughter. “If this bothers you, Beezy, you’re in the wrong line of work.”
“I left the farm while my nose still functioned,” Buttermilk replied and she covered her face with her wings.
“Oi, Copper, I hope you like sleeping with the windows open—”
“Moomy!”
“—because Beezy is a buzzy little bee and her backside packs quite a sting.”
“My life is over.” Rolling her eyes, Buttermilk pushed her plate away, let heave a sigh of exasperation, and then her head clonked down upon the table, snoot first. This pushed her glasses into her face and caused her features to distort, an effect visible from the sides.
Butter Fudge pushed herself away from the table, her barrel rising and falling with her laughter, and she made a dismissive wave with her hoof. “I have this. All of you relax, I’ll look after the little stinker. I’ve missed doing this.”
I am become death, destroyer of dinners.
sometimes i can't tell if you are a horrible human being or a national treasure
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Yes.
Wat? I don't get it!
Was that the talking ham sandwich in the second video, or just a coincidence?
Also, I was expecting something completely different from the title.
Good thing the pilot light was out.
This reminds me; I have a story called "Big Mac Gets a Vasectomy" somewhere deep in my scrap files. I should revisit it.
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