Lively Lemons
You are Anonymous, and aside from boxers and your green mask, you're entirely naked.
Why? Some might naturally inquire, why are you so devoid of clothing. The answer is simple—
"Hey Anon!" the somewhat raspy voice of Dash calls. Even with closed eyes you can feel her fluttering about near you.
You open one eye and peek, not yet sitting up on your near fully flat beach chair, "yo, Dashie."
"Why? Why aren't you wearing any clothes?" she asks, settling beside you in the sand.
"I'm sunbathing, bro," you explain, swinging your legs over and digging your bare toes into the warm sand. You coo as you feel the tingling heat of sun baked sand on your feet. The sun is high in the sky, courtesy of Celestia. Humidity is teetering between unbearable and hella sweaty, the cobble streets in the distance producing mirage-like heat lines.
"Huh, but why?" she asks, head tilting, wings flicking in confusion. There is a slight bead of sweat on her head.
"Feels good, man," you rub your belly a bit, skin feeling noticeably, pleasantly heated. "I get to detach myself from the troubles of Ponyville and relax on this hot day by this crystalline lake," you swing your hand forward, presenting the land before you to Dash.
"Anon you collect bits for free every month from the government, what troubles do you have?"
You think for a second, but can't come up with anything.
"You're a bum, dude!" she declares.
"Says you, what do you do all day? Fly fast? Please. I need a break from the nightmare city," you say, turning your head back to town.
It's nearly fifty feet away, those loathsome buildings and cheery, happy horses. One of them waves at you when they catch your glance, you think it's Twilight but they all look the same so it's hard to tell.
"I'm just not happy that I pay taxes so you can chill out all day."
"Yeah you pay a butt-load in property taxes on your sky-palace, don't you?"
"A-huh!" she nods fiercely.
"Well, how's this, to make amends I'll allow you to taste test my new drink."
She makes a disgusted face, "what kinda deal is that?"
You start to recline again, "drink or no drink I don't care. Just remember your tax money is paying for my ingredients."
She pouts and clops her hooves on the ground impotently, but says nothing more. You take that as a yes and begin to fold up your chair, but not before stretching out like a cat and enjoying the heat of sun on your skin. She audibly rolls her eyes, the squishing of her aqueous humor giving you a slight shiver.
With a firm pat on her head and a tussle of her rainbow hair, you begin the trek back home. Barefoot, naturally, as Equestria is cartoonishly clean. The warm stones of the sidewalk giving your toes a tingle.
"This better be the best damn lemonade I've ever had," she grumbles as she follows tightly behind you.
Oh it will be.
"How much longer?" Rainbow Dash pouts, hooves smacking against your nice wooden stool and the other side of the counter.
You lean over to her and squint, "you just got here."
Spinning on a heal, you open your fridge and fetch a pitcher covered with saran wrap chilling, "you're lucky I haven't drank all of this batch."
It's already collecting dew by the time you place it on the counter. The ceiling fan lazily spinning overhead offering no solace to either you or Dashie. She fidgets and groans as you take your time grabbing two mugs for the lemonade. With a pair of clinks they land firmly on the counter top. She pants slightly.
You wipe off a forehead of sweat, "you ready?"
"Yes!" she says, drawing out the word as she claps her forehooves down on the counter.
"Alright partner," you say lazily, pouring out too mugs of that nice lemonade. A soothing swirling sound is heard as the liquid is transferred from one container to another. The faded, almost clear yellow is so enticing. Your mouth is already getting ready to taste that sour juice. By the look on Dash's face you can tell she's feeling the same.
Dash's wings spurt out and get stuff when you place her drink in front of you, allowing her the first sip. With a furrowed brow she sniffs at it, and then takes a deep sip. Her pupils turn to pinpricks.
A grin widens on your face and her muzzle becomes scrunched. She taps the roof of her mouth a few times and shakes her head, "geez Anon that's like straight lemon juice!"
You down a pleasantly cool sip yourself, immediately feeling your body's raised temperature beginning to coast down. A slight twinge of sweetness, and then a huge wash of sour.
Despite her complaint, Dash takes a smaller taste and then melts into her chair, pressing her red face against the cold glass.
"It's good."
"Worth your tax money good?"
"Hell no," another long draw from her cup and she's half way done.
With an impudent little hoof she tries to grab the pitcher for more. Lightening fast you reach out and boop her, driving her back in shock.
"Finish what you have first."
You nurse your own dwindling mug, applying the lemonade to your body like life-saving medicine.
"Why don't you stop being such a free-loader and sell some of this stuff, Anon?"
You tilt your head up in thought, looking at the wobbly ceiling fan.
"I haven't worked in a whole year. Not sure I can start now, I don't even know where to be begin."
She swivels in her chair and leans against the counter sideways, wing tips tickling the pitcher.
"Well once I rea— er heard from someone that starting a business when you're young is very helpful for your growth."
"I'm twenty-six."
She curls her face up in disgust, "you're such an old man."
"Hey! I resent that."
"Maybe you can't teach an old dog new tricks, maybe you're doomed to be a societal leech forever."
"Oh yeah? And you're a blockhead."
"Good come back," she says with another swig of lemonade to wash her words down.
Her glass is empty and she eyes the jug, but you snatch it away for yourself, returning it to the abode in the fridge.
"Come on, one more glass, you owe me!"
"Why don't you work for it you bum? You'll be able to drink all the lemonade you want if you help me open a stand."
She eyes you for tricks, "well I do need a summer job," her voice sticky with the thought of weighing options.
You extend a hand out, "we'll start next Monday 10 AM sharp, really early, we gotta brew up a ton if we're gonna sell it."
Her face says it all, "10 AM is early for this ape?"
She smacks a hoof into your palm, "deal, bozo. We'll hash out the details then."
I wonder what minimum wage is in Equestra, you ponder, considering if you'll need Worker's Compensation and Disability insurance for your new employee.