"Objective!" Roared Rover, popping out of his chair.
Ahead of him, the judge sighed and rubbed her temples wearily. "For the last time we haven't started yet!" she half growled, half yelled. "Now would you please take your seat and actually stay there? Please!"
Rover was rather new to this whole 'court' thing.
Of course, the majority of diamond dogs were also. Most disputes between diamond dogs were either settled with a fistfight or a heated game of rock, paper, scissors, which was widely considered the epitome of justice distribution methods. Equestrians, lacking fingers, were forced to take up a far more primitive form of judging the accused, hence why Rover was currently sat in the middle of a courtroom being overlooked by a pair of guards.
Stupid ponies and their broken law department...
Behind him rows of ponies sat murmuring to each other, and from what Rover could hear, most of what they were saying sounded pretty damning in his regard. Across the room sat a stallion with a briefcase and some very neat clothing, both of which Rover found peculiarly unnerving. Neatness in general tended to be a fairly distrustful aspect in Rover's eyes.
Behind him, the courtroom doors swung open, and the murmuring and conversation of everypony in the courtroom promptly died out, giving way to the stern clopping of hooves. Rover twisted his head to see what all the commotion was about, only to instantly regret it.
'No...'
Rover was not a very rational dog. For example, his chief fear was vacuum cleaners rather than, lets say, rampant, slavering Manticores with an insatiable lust for canine flesh. To him the phrase 'safety first' amounts to slapping on a helmet before burrowing his way hundreds of feet beneath extremely unstable land. In Rover's eyes a crime can be totally acquitted of by pointing to the person nearest to you and shouting 'He did it!'
But there was one scrap of sense in his somewhat primitive mind. One vein of common thought in the miasma of stupidity of derp-ness that was Rover. A single morsel of reasonable knowledge...
And that was to fear this pony.
"You!" bellowed Miss Rarity as she marched purposely towards him. "You blew up my Boutique!"
Rover's reaction was instant. "She did it!" he squealed, pointing a quivering finger towards the judge.
Mrs White-Wig was not amused.
"Order!" She roared, thumping her wooden mallet. "Miss Rarity, could you please wait until we've started?"
Rarity narrowed her eyes at Rover almost ravenously. "Very well, Your Honour." she said with barely-contained rage. Rover swore for a second that she might actually burst into flames. Sadly, Miss Rarity didn't spontaneously combust and sat herself next to the well-dressed stallion with the briefcase.
Judge White-Wig nodded approvingly. "Good, court is now in session," she beckoned towards Miss Rarity. "Please begin."
The stallion's case clicked open, and he retrieved a trio of photographs from it. "Your honour, let's not draw this out any longer than we have to. We all know-" he made a waving gesture to the jury "-who I guilty here, and we have photographic evidence to prove it." he held the photographs up for all to see. They were pictures of Rover from three different angles, each with him partially buried beneath a heap of debris. Needless to say, it looked rather damning.
"Objects!" roared Rover, narrowing his eyes at the stallion. "Pretty drawings prove nothing! Rarity-pony is liar!"
The judge levelled her eyes with Rover's. "Those are photographs, Mister Rover."
Photo... Graph?
Rover shrugged. "Make no difference what kind of drawing they are, they still drawing! Still prove nothing!"
The eyes of Miss Rarity, her lawyer, the judge and the entire jury lingered on him for a few seconds, simply marvelling at his stupidity. Finally, Judge White-Wig spoke up. "Would Miss Rarity's lawyer like to provide his next piece of evidence?"
"Yes ma'am." said the well-dressed pony. He reached into his case and produced a thick folder. "Here I have an analysis of the residue found on Mister Rover's coat at the scene of the crime. Studies show that The Accused was either handling or in close proximity of the explosive when it was detonated-"
"Objects, objects!" spat Rover. "Boom-stick was not meant to blow up so quickly, I not supposed to be so close! objects!"
"So you did set off the explosive?" inquired the lawyer.
"Not so quickly! It was accident, accident!"
Rarity's glare intensified, her eyes brimming with sapphire flames. "An accident!?" she screamed, exploding from her seat. "My life's work is a steaming pile of rubble, and you claim it to be an accident?"
Rover's fear of the dreaded 'Miss Rarity' briefly gave way to anger. So what if he'd blown up her boutique (Whatever the hell that meant), it's name sounded like one of those Prench words that Spot liked to use to make himself sound smarter, so it couldn't have been that important.
He crossed his arms adamantly and turned his snubbed nose up at Rarity. "That right, not my fault!"
One of Rarity's glare faltered in a momentary, unhinged twitch of an eye. "N-not you fault?" she hissed through clenched teeth. "My... My business is in ruins, thousands of bits worth of my product has been reduced to ashes and my home away from home has been blown to Tartarus! So tell me, dog, who's fault is it, if not yours?"
Rover scratched beneath his muzzle pensively. Couldn't he just blame the boom-stick? No, that wouldn't work. How about Spot? He was the one who gave him the boom-stick in the first place... But then again, Spot wasn't here, so he couldn't really take the blame. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, Rover owed Spot. Sure, he thought he was pushy, lazy and an all-around waste of a good pelt- but he owed him nonetheless. If not for him, he'd still be without a pack.
Then it hit him.
"you!" exclaimed Rover, pointing a grubby finger at Rarity.
"... Me?" said Rarity, her fury replaced with momentary confusion.
"Yes, yes, you! White Pony make boutique place on hard rock, Hard rock! I had to use boom-stick because you made your building on that conker... Concram... Grey Rocky Stuff!" Rover crossed his arms and shot the Rarity-pony a somewhat victorious look. "Your fault! If White-Pony not be so inconsiderate, maybe this not happen!"
One of Rarity's eyes gave an unstable twitch "... Inconsiderate?" she said slowly, as if the word was of some foreign tongue.
"Uhuh," grunted Rover proudly. "Inconsiderate. White Pony make my job harder!" he turned his head away from her, as if disgusted. "Rover spend a lot of time and effort trying to steal your stuff, but he get no respect!"
Once again, the court fell into a deathly, foreboding silence. The jury looked almost numb, gawking at Rover in disgust, confusion and in some cases even pity. Nopony moved, and nopony said a word.
And then Miss Rarity, bearer of the Element of Generosity, bane of Nightmare Moon, feller of the changeling invasion, one of the reformers of Discord, acquaintance of the Royal Family, visage of liberality and all-round national hero, for lack of a better phrase-
Fucking exploded.
She was on Rover in an instant, bowling into him with enough force to send him tumbling to the ground. "YOU WANT RESPECT? I'LL SHOW YOU SOME BUCKING RESPECT!" she wailed, hammering a perfectly-manicured hoof into Rover's face. The whimpering dog tried to wretch the little white ball of fury and hate off of him, but all he got for his efforts was a particularly painful left-hook across the cheek.
"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO PIN THIS ON ME, I'LL PLAY SKIPROPE WITH YOUR INTESTINES AND MAKE A SWEATER- or a coat, depending on the weather- OUT OF YOUR RANCID HIDE!"
He futilely raised a paw in surrender, only to have Rarity sink her teeth into it. Rover whined in agony as her blunt, vegetarian teeth ground into his palm. Her forehooves kept on pummelling into his head whilst her hind hooves located his crotch and began brutalising it remorselessly. A pair of guards had seized her from behind and fruitlessly tried to tear her away from Rover. Eventually Rarity gave up trying to cave Rover's head in and simply resolved to strangle the life out of him instead. Her hooves found his throat and squeezed so hard that Rover felt as if his skull may just burst like a Bolognese-filled water balloon.
Luckily, the guards finally got their act together and managed to drag the frenzied mare off of him. A good thing, too. From the way she was foaming at the mouth, Rover was pretty sure that she had rabies. Ponies were able to get rabies, right?
"Order!" screamed Judge White-Wig, hammering her mallet so hard that it was a wonder it didn't snap in half. "For Celestia's sake, this is a courtroom not a wrestling ring!"
"But you heard what he said," snapped Rarity, still struggling against the guards. "That creature is a monstrosity, a monstrosity I say! I demand that he be hung, drawn and quartered!"
White-Wig rubbed her temples wearily. "Miss Rarity, the death sentence is not upheld by the Equestrian Government-"
"So Rover is free to go?" interrupted the diamond dog.
"No, the severity of your crimes has earned you at least-"
"Can't you at least cut off an ear or something?" wailed Rarity. "Please?
"No-"
"Ha, yes! So Rover is free to go, haHA! You lose White Pony!" spat Rover.
"But that's not faaaaair! I want his eaaaaar!"
"ENOUGH!" roared Judge White-Wig, spittle spraying from her mouth. "Mr Rover," she snapped, pointing her mallet towards him in a movement so quick that it elicited a small whelp from the quivering diamond dog. "Considering the evidence put forth along with your all-around blatant guiltiness, I sentence you to an entire year of servitude to Miss Rarity! You shall cater to her every whim, do whatever she asks of you and give your complete and utter obedience to her or to whoever she wishes you to!"
"W-what?" stuttered Rover. He was being turned into a slave? Worse still, a slave for White Pony? She may as well just lop his head off here and now! He glanced at the dreaded Miss Rarity, and grimaced when he noticed that she was glaring back at him, a toothy, predatory smile adorning her face. Rover knew that smile all too well. It was the same one that Spot would use when either him or Fido brought a fresh kill home for lunch.
That was the smile of a pony who wanted blood, and downright knew that she was going to get it.
He looked back to Judge White-Wig, and raised a quivering paw to get her attention.
"M-miss Judge pony, can Rover just have death sentence?"