Roarin' Equestria

>Day Swingin' in Equestria
>Wake up, you feelin' fine kitty cat
>Scooch on down to the at-home diner
>Brew up a pot of Joe
>Pour yourself a cup
Whhoo Daddy! This Joe is the bee's knees, the kat's pajama's, or The Real McCoy if you will
>Look over at the clock
Wowza! That dame Flutterjane ain't been by to wrap me up in her baloney! Something ain't Hotsy-Totsy.
>There a swift wack at the door
Just a mo!
>That's probably the bird now, she sure does give you the heebie-jeebies. And How!
>You also her that swingin' jazz of Louis Armstrong
>Straightening your zoot suit, you walk over to the door and open it
>Flutterdame is sitting on your front step with a trumpet in her kisser, wailing on it
Hey, baby. What's nifty?
>She stops playing. Fluttershy holds up a sign. "MARE'S SUFFRAGE" written on it.
FS: Is the Roaring Twenties your fetish Anon?
>You had enough of this razz from your personal rag-a-muffin
>Then again, all this ritzy lingo, the clothes, and the lack of civil rights is pretty nice.
>Johnson is already at full attention. Guess it is your fetish, but you can't let this dumb dora know that
>You hatch an idea
Yep, you got it right. And I can tell you got all dolled up just in case?
>She nods happily
Well, don't just stand there,  baby, get a wiggle on in here!
>She squees in excitement and runs in
>Here we go.
>You walk in behind her and shut the door
>Pinkie is finishing up replacing your drywall and ceilings
What? Pinkie! What are you doing?
PP: I'm classing the joint up!
>Pinkie leaves, without another word, through the chimney
>The drywall and ceiling are all a dull yellow now
>And it's dusty in here
FS: Do you like it? ...it's okay if you don't...
NO, I DON'T LIKE IT, YA DUMB POOLKA!
>She cowers before you
>You raise your hand to hit her
FS: No, Anon, Please!
>You bring your hand down across her face, a bit too hard. All your knuckles popped.
FS: Ow!
DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO CHANGE MY SHIT, BROAD?
FS: No..!
THAT'S RIGHT!
>You strike her again
I DIDN'T! NOW GO MAKE ME A SANDWHICH!
>She crawls to the kitchen
FS: ok...
>You take a deep breath
>That was great.
>Now that it's the twenties, sort of, you can beat her as much as you want!
>You breathe deeply again.
>There's something wrong here...
>>10 YEARS LATER<<
>You have lung cancer
>It's already spread to your brain
>You're pretty sure it spread so fast, because Fluttershy would do the old switcheroo with your meds and some roofies
>Didn't matter to much none though
>You gonna die in about a week because of the asbestos in your walls
>Fuckin' Twenties.