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// An additional ramble of text and story, such that this story is acceptable to the FIMFiction moderators (Mods: I will change this chapter title if it is unacceptable I name it like this. I thought it was funny, see.) 
// Story: Roseluck Shrugged, and other facetious drivel 
// by RoxyTheMagus 
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Alright. So, looking over the original work, the author finds where precisely she stopped writing, and sees her own reasoning. However, she is filled with the resolve to continue, as this story is too ironic and dumb to drop. Steeling her focus, (and reminding the reader that she, the author, is not a terrible person) she continues...

In the few months between when the last chapter was originally completed, and the time of writing for this, a great deal of things have changed for our hero. Firstly, she now goes by Roseluck, and has largely dropped her foolish ideas of anarcho-capitalism, now seeing the absurd lies of the "philosophy" for what they are. However, she has not truly improved, and now straddles the political center, sitting upon a throne of half-truths and blind support for the status quo. (The author acknowledges her own lazy writing in the form of this time skip, and promises to make a sarcastic effort to do better.)

A new semester of school has started, and our newly centrist main character is just now arriving at school, around noon. Due to her habit of staying up absurdly late (or perhaps early), arguing the minutiae of fictional characters, she often finds herself sleeping through her alarm clock and arriving late. Thus, she finds herself, late once again, as she steps through the doors of her school, the strangely-named Canterlot High. Who named this place? Are they are a horse of some kind? What is with the plainly obvious nepotism occurring in the school's administration? These were all thoughts that ran through Rose's head, months ago, when she (from her perspective) first began attending this school.

Seeing as it has now been months since she arrived in this strange place, in the form of a young woman, Roseluck has fully adapted to the setting of a High School, and absorbed the edgy, holier-than-thou politics of its denizens, further entrenching her irritatingly stubborn centrism. Our politically inert protagonist reflects on these irrefutably true facts of her own life, and wonders when exactly these events occurred, that would so dramatically change her worldview and gender identity.

She shrugs, and does not for a moment consider that she is a fictional character, and the author simply got lazy and didn't want to invest the time or energy into proper worldbuilding, characterization, or narrative arcs! By this point, Rose has arrived at the door to Mr. Loaded Gun's history class. Many students suspect he is some sort of secret agent, but he asserts that he is not, and therefore all concerns are entirely dispelled, despite his name being more suitable for a spy than a teacher.

Roseluck has devoted very little time to the peculiar fact that the names of many individuals seem to match up with their interests or professions, nor has she wondered how exactly that came to be, or if it entails some sort of prescience on the part of the parent. Instead, she has been a good little human being, and conformed to the unquestioning masses, despite the clear presence of a sarcastic intelligence shaping her life.

As this exposition rambles on, Roseluck has been chastised by Mr. Gun for her usual lateness, before being directed to her seat. As always, the class is studying the minutiae of trench warfare, as is the entirety of every history class. Never is it explained which countries utilized it, or which war is being discussed, only that they are studying trench warfare. Unfortunately for Roseluck, they are particularly focused on the subject of trench foot, complete with photographs. Our hero manages to hold down her light breakfast of toast and orange juice for the remainder of class, before being released from this horrible prison of the study of the past. She is absolutely convinced that knowledge of history will never in any way be applicable to anyone, ever.

Next, our ignorant focal character must attend mathematics class. The less that is said of this, the better. As the school system is roughly analogous to that of the Canadian school system, at least, the one the author has experience with, this is the fourth class of the day, and Roseluck is thus freed. She begins to make her way to the exit, when it hits her.

"Shit, this isn't real."