(RGRE) Anon's Swole Shack Lmao

An oldie, but a personal favorite of mine I wrote about two years ago as the writefag "Beans" (my old pastebin: https://pastebin.com/u/Fui). I thought it'd be a funny RGRE green.
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>Be Anon
>A line rumbles from your stand at East Wyvern Street — the hippest street in all of Ponyville.
>Any organism that is sentient and wants to be in touch with urban, current, shit goes down this street, walking into shops owned by ponises who think too highly of themselves for selling gimmicky shit.
>But yo; all those other shops?
>They ain’t got nothing on you except that they have bigger buildings to own.
>You, though?
>You just built a shack in one day only.
>That shit was cheap.
>And your shack?
>It’s the coolest; everybody wants to go to your shack.
>Ponies, changelings, griffons, and you think there’s this one fucking moose in line, too.
>Odd considering that moose in Equestria aren’t sentient, civilized creatures.
>So yeah, there’s just a wild moose in line for your shack.
>Pretty lit.
>Anyway, you finally slide open your shack’s slidey-windowy thingy (you don’t know why you think it’s so cool; probably because you built it yourself) and stare down at your current customer, first in line.
>A smile instinctively spreads across your cheeks as you see the familiar face before you.
>“Hi, Anon!”
“Hey diddly-ho, mofo. How’s it goin’, Twilight? That new school shit workin’ out for ya or what?”
>Twilight laughs in that dorky, ‘wow, I’m sooo smart and do smart things’ sort of way.
>“Oh, you know, some students do some work well, others sometimes don’t. Pretty standard apart from the intricacies that are formed with friendships in that environment and all.”
“Wow. Cool.”
>“Very! And I think being a teacher, in fact, has actually taught me a lot about being a better pony as well! For starters, I—”
>UGGGGH...
>You zone out.
>You’ve heard it before.
>‘Books this.’
>‘Books that.’
>‘Gosh, Anon, you should really be my friend because friendship is good, hurr durr hurr durr!’

>Just meeting her for the time told you all you needed to know about this book-bitch.
>She was tidy, neat, organized, probably holds her poops inside her bumhole to feel in control, and likes to understand the functions of certain things before truly exploring them.
>She’s practically an inverted neet.
>A reverse-fucking sperg horse.
>“...And then she said to me that maybe I was right about mares being seen as a type of—”
“Yo, book-brain,” you interrupt, “there’s a line.”
>“A what?” she turns her head around and laughs. “Oh! My gosh, I completely forgot! Whoops. My bad.”
“S’cool. Now whatcha want for today?”
>She grins sheepishly, picking up a vase from beneath your counter out of view, sliding it to you.
>“Uhh, do the same as last time?”
“The same? Again? Really?”
>“Yuh-huh! I wanna see ya do it. For a study.”
>A humble sigh escapes you.
>“Fine, brah. I gotcha.”
>You place a timer on the counter lazily.
“But this time, one minute is ten bits.”
>“Sure thing,” says Twilight, placing a pile of gold bits into your hand.
>You place them in a little bag you stapled to your shack’s window frame inside.
>Ya don’t really have a register because you broke it one time.
>You had too much time left on the timer; you had to improvise, okay?
>Anyways, you set the timer for one minute, then take her vase in your arms.
“Okay. Starting now,” you tell her.
>The vase’s cold material — Porcelain? Pottery? — touches your bare chest, giving you goosebumps.
>Your fault considering you never wear a shirt to work.
>You don’t know why, but it brings in more customers.
>Probably because wearing too much clothing here is supposed to be fancy.
>Or not.
>You don’t really know.
>Just want business and shit, boi.

>Anyways, you begin your job as Purple Smart watches you with eyes similar to an excited kitten’s, and you raise the vase above your head…
>...Then scream the ABC’s, tensing your whole body as you do.
>You feel your face turn red, your muscles bulging, and butt cheeks clenching.
>This scream goes on for thirty seconds straight until, finally, you smash the damn vase to the ground, jumping in the air while doing so.
>Then, you wipe the sweat off from your forehead and quickly try to find as many pieces of the shattered vase as possible.
>Thankfully, you don’t cut yourself on any of the fragments and find most.
>With some time left, you scurry over to a cabinet, pull out a paper plate, and place the shards upon it.
>Then, realizing the timer STILL hasn’t gone off, you quickly improvise and do some poses from Power Rangers that your retarded brother would do all the time to communicate.
>Then, at last…

DEET DEET! DEET DEET! DEET DEET! DEET - klick!

>You turn off the timer and sigh, taking the plate of shards and dumping them into the trash.
>After that, you wipe the sweat off of your hot body with the paper plate, then walk back to your counter.
>You casually push the paper plate through Twilight’s horn so it looks like a sweat-soaked saucer is on her head.
>You smile pleasantly.
“Would that be all for today, Ms. Twilight Sparkle?”
>Twilight looks significantly sweatier for whatever reason, breathing heavily from her mouth, hooves trembling and ass quaking.
>She clears her throat before answering.
>“F-ffyess...”
“Slammin’, brother.”
>You reach out your window and push her out of the way.
“Next!”
>You’ve been doing this for two years.
>You still have no idea what you sell.

END