She tapped her chin, glancing over at the chalkboard. "Hmm... Could you take the erasers and go clean them outside? Just hit them against the concrete or the like to get all the dust out."

The only time I’m going outside is if I have a weapon on me.

"If you crash the car, I'm holding a funeral for the car and throwing you in the scrapyard." Lightly pushing her forehead, I followed Flash behind the counter and through the hallway leading to the back of the building. Pushing the exit open, we were greeted by stack after stack of crates, with a yellow head peeking around one particularly tall tower.

That is so f*cked up, but funny.

Perhaps there was something or someone in the pony world that was responsible. Perhaps they strained their relationship by ruining her trust in them. Perhaps that's why she had so often schemed, lied, and backstabbed to get what she wanted.

Or maybe that’s because that’s all she knew how to do.