And now he drags down miles in America, briefcase in hand...
The stove is creeping up his spine again, can't get enough trash...
Coco Pommel set down her cup of coffee and closed her eyes. Tilting her head back up towards the ceiling, she cracked her neck several times. Exhaling slowly, she forced herself to look back at her computer. A blank white screen stared back at her. Coco began typing her report.
Okay, first the title, she thought to herself. She put her hooves up on the keyboard.
THE
Coco groaned, and took another long swallow of coffee. She was glad to have a steady, well-paying job, but she wasn't sure of how much she enjoyed it. Writing reports on audience feedback to her company's productions wasn't exactly what she would call interesting. When Rarity and her friends had left her with a new job making costumes for plays, she had loved it. She worked diligently and was promoted quickly. Shortly after, she found herself almost at the top spot. She still worked for the same play-production company, and she knew that the many ponies that she had surpassed were deeply jealous of her position.
Coco drained her coffee and resumed typing.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN USE OF BILLBOARDS FOR PROMOTIONAL ADVERTISING AND AVERAGE CONSUMER RATINGS AND ATTENDANCE
Shuffling through papers that supposedly held the statistics she needed, Coco absentmindedly reached for her mug. She held it up to her lips before remembering that it was empty. She pursed her lips and frowned deeply, but kept searching through the files.
The more she'd thought about it over the last month or so, the more the Earth pony realized that she would gladly give up her job if she could. It was just her inconsistent job record, which made it unable for her to find a better job. She was lucky to be where she was now. At least, she was supposed to be.
Suddenly, Coco slammed the table with her hoof. Frustration was just building up inside of her and she had no way of letting it out.
Dang it, she thought to herself, I need a smoke. Grabbing a box of Parliament cigarettes, she slipped on a jacket and walked to the door to her office, which wasn't very far. Her room was slightly better than a cubicle. Quickly, she slipped the box into a pocket, then opened the door and walked out, closing it behind her. As she walked down the hall, she could feel the many eyes of her former coworkers on her back. Coco grumbled silently. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She could tell they hated her for her 'success'.
Well, the feeling is mutual, she spat mentally. She looked up to see the door right in front of her. Glancing around first, she gently pushed open the door and stepped into the crisp fall air. Her hooves clacked on the pavement, and she stopped cold.
Crap! My lighter! Oh, I'm such a bucking idiot. I can't go back and forth again..
Frantically, Coco searched for a solution. She was in luck. In an ash tray of a nearby trash can, the stub from her last smoke was still glowing. Quickly, she picked it up and used it to light a new one. Leaning back against the wall, she watched the traffic whiz by. The faint sounds of honking horns floated over from the streets. The mare furrowed her brow in annoyance.
Insufferable mules. Hope they burn in Tartarus- The sound of polished hooves on cement woke her from her complaining. In one swift movement, Coco spat out her cigarette into the garbage and spaced herself from the bin, clearing her face and trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Oh! Coco! What a surprise, what are you doing outside?" asked Strawberry Cream, the personal secretary of Coco's boss, Steel Flourish. Technically, they were equals, but it was no secret that Strawberry was Coco's superior in almost every way. The only thing the two mares had in common was their gender, coat color, and lack of wings and horns.
I could ask the same thing, Coco thought darkly before responding cheerily, "Oh, I was just getting some fresh air, you know, stretching my legs out for a bit. But I've been here long enough, I'd better go back ins-"
"Nonsense, we might as well stay and chat for a bit. No harm done, am I right?" insisted the secretary. Coco was really itching to finish her cigarette, but she knew it was too late for that. Besides, smoking was frowned upon by almost everyone. It really was too bad she had to waste that one just now. It had taken forever to find a decent supplier who wasn't hitting on her between every other breath.
"Well, as wonderful as that sounds, Mrs. Cream, I really should get back to the office. Thanks anyway, I'm sure we can catch up later..."
Strawberry stopped her with a hoof by her flank.
"Well, sweetheart, if you're going back anyway, could you do me a favor and run these through the copier?" She handed Coco some loose papers. "Ten to fifteen copies of each should do." She smiled, showing slightly yellowed teeth.
"Um, of course! I'll drop them off at your office. Goodbye!" I'm not your personal slave, you upstuck brat. Aaarrrgh, I hate that mare.
Coco twitched and went back into the building, letting the cold air in just for a second before the door slammed closed by itself. As soon as she was alone, Strawberry Cream slumped against the wall.
"I thought she'd never leave," she sighed, pulling a Parliament cigarette out of her pocket.