No more horses [Scraps]

>RING RING.
>You groan, rolling over in your bed, sheets shifting.
>RING RING.
"No, for the love of god no. Please phone don't answer me!"
>You blink your eyes open and wake up to the sight of your red rotary phone.
>RING RING.
>Groggily you grab for it, knocking the base to the ground with a clatter.
"Fuck, hello, who is it?"
>"It's the Princess," an overly excited voice replies.
"Which one?" you ask sleepily, wiping some dried spit from your face.
>You drop the phone in anticipation of the coming shout.
>"YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM BASED OFF MY VOICE? MY LUXORIOUS, PONY VOICEBOX SHOULD BE KNOW BY ALL."
>Stalking off into the kitchen, nude of course, you begin prepping for breakfast.
>"You still there?"
"YEAH," you yell, so she hears you.
>"I've got you a new target for you to challenge!"
"OH YEAH?"
>"Yes. Gilda the Griffon. She's rank number 52 on the charts."
>You come spinning around the corner.
"WOW WAIT A SECOND," you grab the phone, "52?"
>"Yes, your rank has dropped due to your inactivety."
"Inactivety? Whaddya mean?"
>"You've been asleep for a month. Things have changed, you're no longer number one."
"Fuck that."
>You slam the phone down, grab your jacket and sword.
>Bitch bought to get fucking slammed.
>GRUMBLE.
>Breakfast first...

>After a large, filling feast of waffles and orange juice you phone up Celestia for coordinates on the hoe you gotta smoke.
>Address: 172 Griffons are dumb street
>Sword on your shoulder, red jacket on, jeans on.
>Fuck.
>No underwear.
>Lil' Anon might get a little scratched up if the shit goes down.
>WHICH IT WILL.
>You march up like a cool cat to some little shop on the skirts of Ponyville.
>The heat is hot and the sun is up full blast.
>Shit, how late did you sleep?
>You kick open the door to the two-story bakery.
"Gilda?" you call, "Or was it Grindle?"
>This cafe is no ordinary place.
>It's quite nice; white tables and chairs, a nice shiney staircase leading up to a second floor balcony.
>Stellar!
"Hello~?"
>"Hello," a gravelly voice replies.
"Huh."
>You look up, spotting a griffon in a chef hat.