//------------------------------//
// Go Home, Berry Punch, You're Drunk 
// Story: Why Carrot Top Should Never Ever Write FanFiction 
// by Marciline 
//------------------------------//

Carrot Top finished her fan fiction and waited for applause. But instead, she got shocked silence. 
“...You ship me...”
“With her?”
“A lazy, messy-”
“Boring, uptight-”
“DJ?”
“Cellist?”
Carrot Top nodded happily. 
“I for one, found it to be very entertaining,” intoned Roseluck. The other ponies nodded and an obviously drunken Berry Punch made her way to the shocked pair and tried to make them kiss.
“Go home, Berry Punch, you're drunk.”
“Okay,” and she stumbled to Minuette and started to beg a ride home from her.
Derpy walked up to Octavia with a grim expression.
“I have all her stuff packed up. I can pick her up now, if you like. I have Ditzy preparing the home and Dinky.”
Octavia looked at Carrot Top.
Maybe she wasn’t such a bad mare after all. She was just trying to help. 
Octavia opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by by Carrot Top.
“Oh. Octavia. Sorry about the...uh...cello.”
“That's okay, Carrot Top. In fact, I've even found a new, rent free home for you!”
“Really?!”
“Derpy began to speak, “Oh yeah, it's gonna be so fun!”
Octavia gave Derpy a confused look.
“Lulls the patients into a sense of security, if you're fun and enjoyable.”
“Ah.”
Octavia watched the curious pair walk away and spun around when she felt a tap on the back.
“Vinyl.”
“Hey, uh, that fan fiction was pretty crazy, huh?”
“Yes.”
“So, uh, do you want to, like, hang out later?”
Octavia looked behind Vinyl.
“Berry Punch put you up to this, didn't she.”
“Ye-no!”
“I guess so. Nine, tomorrow?”
“Awesome!”
The next pony to speak to her was Lyra.
“So now that you've got Carrot Top to go away, what now?”
“I suppose I'll find a new roommate.”
“Oh really? They might not want to shack up with you after the events of tonight.”
“What did you do now?”
“Oh, I read her fan fiction ahead of time and told everypony that you are currently dating Vinyl Scratch.”
“Wh-I am not!”
“Wanna bet?”

Six Months Later

Lyra woke up with the morning sun in her eyes. 
“Ugh. Who'd text me now?”
She picked up the phone and noticed it was from Octavia.
It read: Lyra you owe me twenty bits. In six hours I will see it on my desk in the history department.