Sayonara Zetsubou Stallion #3: The Foreigner

黒と白のコーヒーカップの後、毎朝の戦い
[Black and White fight every morning after a cup of coffee]
結果は、常に非劇的な
[The results are always non-dramatic]
各壮大な欠損の戦いのような後遺症
[Such aftermaths of each epic-lacking fight]
灰色の領域に存在する傾向がある
[Tends to be in the grey area]
-----
Chapter 3: The Foreigner
> [Two weeks later.]
> It appears that the classroom’s door has reverted back to its roots;
> That is, to say, it is now a large and somewhat antique looking threshold.
> If you were to wager, it could hold up well against three British officers from the 1800s.
> Not that you understand what the British is, of course.
“Today, I will be introducing you to our new teacher assistant!”
> You slam your head into your personal podium into the classroom, having been in the lustful stallion form and unable to be seen by the class.
> Knocking it over in a double edged blow, your head is throbbing from the agony of taking down a seventy pound applewood structure.
> It was apparently nailed into the floor, which explains why so much effort took to removing it from its chained domain.
> Thankfully, the random act is enough to startle the class to buy you a few seconds to access two problems:
> The first is obvious; why are you in stallion form?
> You cannot answer that; the laws of the world decide your form.
> The more notable question to address is the fact that your hooves are glued to the floor, which is why you resorted to a painful head thrust to gain their attention.
-----
> After about ten seconds of painstakingly difficult maneuvers to free yourself, you surrender and pose stoically.
“Someone mind explaining why there is some sort of glue under my righteous stomping grounds?!”
> Sweetie Belle: “Initiating Response… obtained; it was an effort to confirm your abstained presence within the classroom.”
> You crick your neck to find her behind you in an obstreperous fashion.
“You were there?”
> Sweetie Belle: “Affirmative.”
> After about twenty unmentionable minutes that took tears, a small amount of blood, and a hacksaw, you now have four holes in your floor, as well as wooden horseshoes.
“Sweetie Belle, please avoid gluing my floor, and return to your seat.”
> Sweetie Belle: “Error~.”
> In a flash, she’s back in her spot, and you notice another student is missing.
“Where is Scootaloo? I swore I would clip her wings if I caught her skipping again.”
> The closet door slides open (it’s now a sliding door, do not argue this), and Scootaloo is sitting on a shelf in a patient and disoriented manner.
> Scootaloo: “I’m right here, sensei~!”
> Good Celestia, she looks absolutely horrid!
> She needs to learn to clean up her living space if she plans to get hygienically ahead in life!
> Closing the closet door in consent, Scootaloo still inside, you return your focus to the rest of the class.
> You’re now in human form, and for whatever reason this entitles you to wear wooden shoes from Holland (which of course no one understands the reference, they’re merely wooden stock shoes to us).
> Taking the second pair off from your hands, you give a cough as to sweep aside the oddity, and you gesture to the door in silence.
> This continues on for about a minute.
> One by one, each foal and colt stare in stupidity at what the motion could possibly mean;
> It was Snail that finally spoke up.
> Snail: “Well, duh huh… what’s going on?”
> You making the motion again with both your hands, the amazement of your arms gracefully swinging towards the door compelling them to stare onward.
> You were perfectly mimicking the fusion dance from D***** B*** *, yet it alone did not seem to do the trick.
> After the third time of doing this, Diamond Tiara snaps at the absurdity of the act and begins shouting.
> Diamond: “Alright, we GET IT, there is SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!”
> You were already at the regular, seemingly normal door, about to turn the knob, when you and the class turn to face her random outburst;
> Whether or not the dance was nothing more than a hallucination is up to your digression.
-----
> Ignoring her accusations, you turn the knob to let the wary looking creature make her way in.
> It was all but the three notable Crusaders who were slightly nervous at the newcomer.
> ???: “Hmph; I was told to help these foals learn, but I soon would rather watch them burn!”
> That was apparently Zecora’s welcome introduction;
> Although somewhat morose and vividly dark, was pretty thought out!
“Thank you, Ms. Zecora, I’m glad to have you in the classroom. I’m sure the royals will pay you just as generously as myself.”
> She snorts at this, knowing just as well as you do that you hardly get moldy peanuts for this job.
> The entire class is veiled to an oath of devoted silence, as if they’re preparing to become Equestrian monks.
> The trio of uttermost annoyance surface from the mass, and pull you aside;
> Just to clarify, you swat your mane to the side in proof that you’ve become a stallion once more.
“What is the meaning of this? Scootaloo, why aren’t you in the closet?!”
> Applebloom: “Mr. Anonvisor~…”
“Just call me ‘Mr. Anon’!!”
> Applebloom: “Why is Zecora here? I thought she was a witchdoctor or sumtin’!”
> You give a dignified cough, and to your surprise you did not return to your bipedal form.
“I requested to the Mayor that I get a student aide in helping you teach the glory of agony and despair, and she was kind enough to employ Ms. Zecora here!”
> Zecora is somewhat out of earshot, but she’s too busy giving one of the students an icy stare.
> It seems that it’s to insinuate that she’s daring the unfortunate colt to breathe, and as a result he’s slowly whittling his life away via asphyxiation.
> The four of you ignore this as the pony passes out, much to Zecora’s wicked amusement.
> Applebloom: “Ms. Zecora seems awfully… upset.”
“She didn’t want to take this job, because I personally requested her due to her foreign stature.”
> Scootaloo: “Her what?”
> Sweetie Belle: “Her hard drive’s ancestry dates to a distinctively dissimilar location of that of Equestria.”
> Scootaloo and Applebloom: “Ohhhh!”
“How did that make any more sense?! *Ahem*, Anyways, I figured with a person like herself,”
> You gesture at Zecora, who’s working on her second victim,
“Her diverse background will provide a more unique education, and hopefully increase the pathetic extension of knowledge everybody (yes, you just said ‘body’, and none of you faggots will get to fret about it) here seems to have.”
> The three foals nod and return to their seats, as you approach the displeased zebra.
“Alright, Ms. Zecora, I was hoping you could introduce yourself to the class more prop-“
> Zecora: “You’re too close, you snot-nosed bum.”
> You look at the distance; it’s about five feet, six if you’re generous with the tape ruler.
“Beg your p-?”
> Zecora: “RELOCATE YOURSELF, OR A LAWSUIT FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT WILL COME!”
“AIIYYYEEEE!”
> You scuttle to the far end of the room, humanized in your indignity.
> What’s the average distance for a male co-worker to be to a female to make it offensive?!
> Did you not read the teaching manual? Her eyes are piercing your soul with a demonic glare.
> You panic, trying to calculate the safest distance and making hasty reparations to your enraged assistant.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Zecora, I didn’t mean to-“
> Zecora: “Refer to me as ‘Zecora’, you ignorant pig! Don’t stray from my face, I know your gig!”
> You weren’t even looking away from that horrible, treacherous glower!
> You ALMOST made a glance at her earring, but fear for financial loss glued your eyes to hers.
> Zecora: “Giving me such a dirty look; it’s your money that I will book!”
-----
> The atmosphere drops to a neutral monochrome state as sorrow torrents into your lungs, caressing your arteries and veins.
> You sway your head to the right, glasses nearly flying off.
> Behold, you forgot to elude that you were wearing glasses all this time;
> SURPRISE!
> It’s swiftly drowned out in misery as you turn your face to the left, seeing nothing save the darkness festering into your mellowed heart.
> As reality dawns on you like a firm gavel slamming to its wooden slab, the firm resolution of actuality crashes down before you.
-----
“I’M IN DESPAIR!! TEACHER ASSISTANTS FALSELY MAKING WILD ACCUSATIONS OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT HAS PUT ME IN DESPAIR!!!”
> You ensure that your meager funds have not been vacuumed out of your pockets from that vile creature, and in a smooth stroke of ingenuity, you launch yourself out of the closest window.
> For whatever reason the window was already open, and so you merely plummet into the grass as the class crowds around the window to watch you roll around the grass and scream like a little filly.
> Shifting over to Zecora, who huffs in bemusement, reflects on her odd acts of cruelty;
> She has a family of several siblings at home far away, whom she sends every single bit she can to them.
> She understands the life she was raised in, and the culture she left for her life today.
> Now learning herbs and other materials she never understood before, she tossed away her rash attitude and vocabulary, using instead whimsical rhymes and wise sayings.
> However… once in every great while, someone gets the better of her, and in her anger she reverts to her childish words of old.
> This was one of those times; having been put under the charge of this wretched excuse of a teacher, and for horrid pay, she now has quite a few words to say.
> [Hey, that last bit rhymed!]
> Zecora: “Y’all best shut yer mouths right now, before I put a @#$%ing cap in yo’ ass!”
> The class was already dead silent, save yourself doing barrel rolls across the school lawn, but the effect she wanted in getting their attention was easily obtained as all eyes fall onto her.
> Zecora: “Dat’s right, b****es! Git in yer damn motherf***ing seats and sit your motherf***ing flanks down!”
> It’s as if she used the Rod of Dominion; they all silently and swiftly shuffle back to their assigned spots.
> Scootaloo even returns to her spot in the closet.
> Zecora, having taken control of the classroom in two meager sentences, makes her way to the window in question, observing you as you are trying to tie a noose to the nearest tree.
> Zecora: “Yo dawg, get yah pasty white a** in here and do yer god **** job! Geebus!”
> You rotate around, a cloud of depression hanging over your head like a lovable intangible spirit of misfortune, and you try to overcome the feeling of bewilderment at these words.
> She’s sounding so stereotypically…?
“Err, what…?”
> Zecora: “Do I LOOK like I’m playin’ wit you? Ya know dat if I do all the teacher, I’mma make sure to sue ya for job fraud, you paunchy white ****** **** ***!”
> [I don’t even know what she said, but I will leave it to your imagination]
> [I don’t want to get sued for racism or stereotypical offense :’( ]
> “YEEEE!”
> Just as magnificently as you left the building, you enter it just as splendidly through the window frame.
-----
> Zecora, still resting her by the sill, looks to the skies in confusion; she just lost her temper for the first time in a long while.
> What should she do? Should she return to her more proper, appropriate attire of speech?
> Should she leave the school and go on a venture of self-discovery?
> These little, innocent foals have seen her true self; she’s been spending years trying to fend off the ignorant ponies that scoff at her attitude, her lifestyle.
> She can never hide her color, but since her traveling here, she was given a chance to live a new lifestyle.
> Zecora, who has everyone’s devotion on her at the moment, gives a cough in response.
> Zecora: “I humbly apologize for my rude speech. Please, Mr. Anon, would you continue to teach?”
-----
> She’s rattled your cage so many times within the past two minutes; your clothing is torn and green from the grass, and you have an unstrung noose hanging around your neck.
> You clear your throat and adjust your glasses, the mark of a poorly worked up professional.
“Yes, let us continue the subject that I have prepared-“
> The sturdy wooden door is abruptly cleaned from its hinges, eviscerated in the crudest manner you could possibly hope to witness in your lifetime.
> You’re now on top of the podium, stallion form and shrieking like a frightened child.
> In the incredulous stunt, dust and other unknown vapors clear to reveal a small, innocent looking foal at the entrance to the classroom.
> You could list off many attributes that would accurately describe her, but the most notable features would include her pale purple coat color, a blonde mane, and yellow eyes.
> ???: “Oops… sawwy.”
> You can’t help but be thrilled by her naïve and pure stature, despite the dangerous entry she just committed to.
“Eh, uhm. Hm. Hello, who might you be?”
> The little filly gives a gracious looking smile that warms your heart, forces Zecora to gag, and makes the class to giggle and sneer.
> ???: “I’m Berry Pinch!”
> You give a generous smile at such a cute name, despite the fact that under normal circumstances charming endearments usually disgust you.
“Hello, Berry. What can I help you with?”
> You entirely blow off the fact she destroyed the now mangled screen door, paper and wood chips now all over the floor.
> It blinks back to “Berry”, who now has a yellow pegasus behind her.
> Wait, what?!
“Who are you?!”
> Applebloom: “That’s Fluttershy, Anon! She acts the nurse for animals and ponies alike!”
> Wait… if Zecora is a witchdoctor by trade, and this Fluttershy is supposedly a nurse…
> You glance at Zecora, who returns the look with a menacing glare.
> Zecora: “If association with her is what you’ll say, I’ll prove you wrong and make you pay!”
> You give a nervous gulp; she’s still eager to let loose a lawsuit.
> Fluttershy: “Oh, don’t mind me, really… I’m here to notify you that Ms., err…”
> She looks at the documents to make sure she isn’t mistaken, and she gives a worried look.
> Fluttershy: “You said Berry Pinch, right?”
> “Berry”: “Uh huh!”
> She gives a slightly confused nod, and looks at you.
> Fluttershy: “Ms. Berry will be transferring from class 1A to here in 3A from here on out.”
“There are not one, but three classes?! Where are the other two?!?”
> She cocks her head to the side at your random outburst.
> Fluttershy: “Down the hallway, silly!”
> You know fully well there is no hallway, or any other room in this school building; the ominous weight of these words gather on your shoulders as you give up trying to understand.
> Straddling the top of the podium in human status, you give a feeble wave towards a vacant desk, and the little filly hops on over to it.
> She somehow does acrobatics at the last moment, spinning through the air and knocking a student out of his spot.
> Fluttershy smiles sweetly, takes a rope from an undisclosed location, and pulls up the battered wooden door back to its original position.
> You begin counting the wooden planks in misery, having your class interrupted so viciously today that you’re quite willing to give up educating for the time being.
> Diamond Tiara: “There must be education- you’re the teacher, now teach us!”
> Did she read your mind?!
> Applebloom: “Psst, hey Mr. Pink Supervisior!”
> You somehow rotate your pivoting point around the top of the podium to find Applebloom and Scootaloo below you.
> And Sweetie Belle? Behind you, for whatever reason.
“What’s up?”
> The four of you lean in real close for a quiet conversation.
> Scootaloo: “I can’t be too sure, but…”
> Applebloom: “That’s definitely not Berry Pinch, Mr. Anon!”
> Sweetie Belle: “Confirmed; DNA tracing suggests that the new character is under the true alias of Dinky Doo.”
“But… why would she pretend to be another pony?”
> You’re on the floor now, crouching; Zecora and the class are minding their own business for whatever reasons.
> Sweetie Belle squeaks for some reason and stares intently at the floor for a moment before returning her gaze to you.
> Sweetie Belle: “Error. The name ‘Dinky Doo’ is purely fictional, and her true birthright name is 404 Memory Not Found.”
“Eh?!”
> Applebloom: “*Sigh* No actually knows her name, but ponies used to call her Dinky Doo. However, we don’t know what her name or background is!”
“How can anyone not know what her true name is?!”
> The fact that it’s possible for no one to know a local’s actual background information is very unsettling; shouldn’t they keep a record for that, instead of letting other people give her a name?!
> The three of them shrug, and you turn to see the new student cheerfully watch a fuzz fly by her face.
> Just who is this filly?!
> End