Sayonara Zetsubou Stallion #1: Lower Your Standards!

かつて賢明なポニーがありました。
[There once was a wise pony.]
ある日、支配者は彼の助言を求めた。
[One day, the ruler asked for his advice]
どのように私はそれらを行うように私の被験者は私を愛して確認することができますか？
["How can I make sure my subjects love me like I do them?"]
彼の答えは世界を変えた。
[His answer changed the world:]
それらのほとんどの缶詰ウィーンのホットドッグ。
["Those little canned Vienna hot dogs."]
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Chapter One: Lower Your Standards!
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> First off, you’d like to clarify two things:
> A.) You’re a scraggly unicorn [usually]; that isn’t to say you’re unattractive, not to say that in the least!
> You’re mediocre, given that stallions are attractive anyways; you certainly aren’t unhealthy in your nutrition.
> Now, the second thing:
> B.) You’ve been tasked with a transfer to the Ponyville Educational Institute or, more humbly known as, “filly school”.
> Having little experiences with children, and only a backbone in the educational degree, you’ve sunk from being a professor of some mightily fine college… to a mere teacher for young mares and colts.
> Also, your name may also be Nozumu “Anon” Itoshiki. Written horizontally it says exactly that, your birthright given name.
> However, when placed vertically, it could also be read as… “Zetsubou Sensei”, or preferably known as Mr. Despair.
> How anyone figured this out is a mystery, as your name in Equestria should mean nothing but pure gibberish.
> It’s depressing.
-----
> It was first day of a new semester, immediately after Winter Wrap-Up, when little Applebloom was happily making her way to school.
> Having yet to gain her cutie mark, she’s plotting innocently something to pitch to her two other friends when she notices an odd sight;
> Among the newly blooming cherry blossom trees, there was a taut rope hanging down from one-
> Along with yourself hanging from the end of it.
> In the frantic throes of trying to accept that you’ve sunk the lowest in your life and career, you’ve reverted to the safest and most assuredly the quickest way to remove your sorrows.
> Applebloom: “What in tarnations?”
> She walks up to your lifeless body with piqued interest, tapping one of your hanging hooves.
> In some act of irony from the greater powers, this in turn is enough to snap the rope hanging around your neck, and with a VERY swift stir to consciousness you holler on your way to the grass.
> Massaging your sore neck tenderly, you turn to face the frightened filly.
“What was that for, you could have killed me!”
> “Well, you shouldn’t be growing your neck longer from a tree, that’s dangerous!”
> You stop to think over this revelation.
“Grow… a longer neck?”
> She giggles and nods at the confirmation.
> “Uh-huh! Some ponies don’t like having short necks, you see? So they do whatever they can to make them longer!”
> Your little filly’s epiphany catches to your own, realizing the cold truth of this.
“I… see! That makes sense!”
> She hops up and down in glee at your agreement, as you take to your hooves.
> “Mama and Papa tried to make their necks longer, but they did it too long… Grannie Smith says they need to come back from the hospital someday, cuz their necks got too long…”
> You smile sweetly at her innocent words.
> “Hey, can I call you… Pink Commissioner?”
“Bleugh, beg your pardon?”
> She raises her hoof as a way to have you acknowledge her following statement:
> “Well~, I met you when you were ‘stretching’ from these trees, and the pink around you make you look so pretty!”
“What does that have to do with me?!”
> “You also seem like a commissioner to me, so I’mma calls you the Pink Commissioner!”
“That doesn’t make any sense!”
> Your eyes are popping out at this naïve mare, her thoughts wildly skewing about of her head.
> “You don’t like it when I call you the Pink Commissioner?”
“I have a name, and I prefer it if you used that!”
> “…”
“…”
> “How about if I give you… half a bit?”
> She shows you half of a gold coin, and your mind is blown apart.
“Is that even money at this point, that’s ridiculous!”
> “Nuh uh, it’s half a bit, Pink Commissioner!”
> You snap, rolling across the ground in the anxiety of such an awkward name.
> Before she can say another word, you barrel roll across the grass and make off to the destination you were heading to before “better things” caught your interest.
-----
> You now open the door to the single room of the school, your fingers sliding across the edges as push it aside.
> Yes, you’ve randomly and unexplainably turned into a human, and Ponyville’s sole school has installed sliding screen doors.
> Swinging it shut [it’s now an Equestrian standard door] you’re soon marching forward to your podium without even glancing at the class attending.
> They’re all talking happily, goofing around as you stare into the cracks of your wooden throne-
> One, four… six cracks.
> This is better than seven, because seven is a mockery of luck, which would doom you to a state of great misfortune; not that things can get much worse.
> Of course you could get the cutie pox or turn into a sheep oreatbadcakeandgethorribledigestive
“THERE IS A CAT ON THE CEILING!?”
> The class quiets at your wild accusation, glancing up to look at the cat.
> There was no existing cat up there, of course, and you have now left the class in bewilderment.
> A little foal, complete with a diamond tiara, is the first to sound a complaint.
> “There’s no cat up there, are you BLIND?”
> You snap your fingers in a convincing manner, making them all jump before you raise your pointer finger at the accusing mare.
“You! What is your name?!”
> She scoffs at your blatant rudeness, and goes to respond in spades.
> “I’m Diamond Tiara, duh! Now who- and what- are you?”
> You gesture to yourself in amusement, smirking at the silly question.
“I am your teacher as of today, and you will call me Mr. Anon-“
> “TEACHER SORRY I’M LATE!”
> Applebloom bursts through the now screen door, as it collapses to the ground.
“You could have opened it!”
> She smiles sheepishly as she looks at the wooden door cleared off its hinges.
> “Hehe, sorry… maybe the door needed a break! It’s always sitting in the same spot…”
> She takes her seat as you lift the still wooden door back into place, promising to fix it later.
> After turning around, you can’t help but feel perturbed by the light breeze of the hole in the now transformed screen door; it seriously needs to decide if it’s going to be a screen or wooden door before the laws of reality punish it.
> Or perhaps it has already been punished, having this little filly torn through it.
> Diamond Tiara: “What happened to our old teacher? At least she was competent.”
“Vacation?”
> “Silver Spoon: “Why are you asking us? You should know!”
> With a smooth hand motion, a sheet of paper drops in front of each and every one of them.
“Your first class assignment will be to draw your careers that you aspire to, thanks to your cutie marks!”
> A colt chips in from the back;
> “Why do we have to do that?”
“Because, I am the teacher, and this is worth 99% of your grade!”
> The class groans as they gather crayons and other materials when one particular pony comes up-
> It’s the ever lovely Diamond Tiara.
> “I don’t know who you are, but-“
“Ah, you’re right! I should write it on the board.”
> Cutting her off to let her stew in some prepubescent rage, you write * Nozumu “Anon” Itoshiki* onto the board.
> A passing pegasus, an orange one at that, sees the name and snickers.
“What’s so funny?”
> She scuttles up to the board, and makes some sort of cycling motion; she then decides to remark this out loud to the class:
> “It says your name this way, but if you write it differently… it kinda says ‘Mr. Despair’!”
> As each mare and colt looks at your name, your head writhes in agony.
> This doesn’t make any bloody sense.
> “Huh, it does, doesn’t it?”
> “That’s interesting.”
> “Don’t despair, Mr. Pink Commissioner!”
“Don’t CALL me THAT!!”
> They all laugh at you heaving, before soon getting to work.
-----
> After about twenty minutes later, you collect the pictures, despite none of them having a name on them.
> Pulling a random one out from the pile, you stare intensely at the drawing before showing it to the class.
“Whose artwork is this?”
> “My name is Silver Spoon, Mr. Despair!”
> They all giggle at the joke, and you brush it off.
“This is a Silver Spoon, correct?”
> “Duh!”
> More laughs, but you bide with it.
“Now, what is your career path with life, chosen through your cutie mark?”
> This gets a stuttered response from the mare.
> “W-well, uh…”
> You slam the drawing onto your podium, the evidence entirely conclusive as you grill her with meaningful questions.
“Will you spoon things, is your job in life to eat cereal or serve ice cream to little fillies during the summer? Perhaps you possess telekinesis, may I see it?”
> She clams up at this point, befuddled at the inquiries. It appears her arrogant friend Diamond Tiara is off to her rescue.
> “Oh yeah? Well, what about mine, huh?”
> You skim through them before finding the most obvious choice; a shining (and decently) drawn of a luscious looking tiara, with the foal in question wielding it.
“You tell me, what do you plan to be when you grow up?”
> “I plan to be a princess, of course!”
“Ah, so an aggressive domineering revolutionary, and a genetic engineer, that’s very inspiring!”
> Her face just drops at this.
> “Huh?”
“Well, if you wish to become a princess despite your lack of horn or wings, you must be planning to overthrow the current regime that Celestia and Luna currently rule; either that, or you plot to dabble in dark sciences that will aid you in becoming an Alicorn. Right?”
> You’re not sure whether or not you explaining her goals or changing back into a pegasus blew her apart, but two royal guards were definitely enough to make her lose her cool.
> She bursts into tears as she’s escorted for “questioning”
“Good luck with your dreams, always follow your heart!”
-----
> As the now repaired screen door closes behind them, you turn, human again, to face the shocked class.
> How or why you appear as human or stallion is one of God’s mysteries; you better ask the classroom door.
“There is a lesson here, and I shall REVEAL IT!”
> Whipping out tape in a fierce manner, you swiftly tape the pictures all over the wall within seconds.
“Look at these, all of these! These are your dreams, chosen by destiny!”
> They stare at you in awe, your words reaching out to them.
“This is why you should ABANDON them!!”
> “Wuh-whaaaat?!”
> You slam the wall angrily and making them jump again.
“You have let destiny demand what you do, yet it leaves openings for you to choose from! Look at this!”
> You point at a picture of a snail with a note of conviction.
“This is likely a symbol to show that the pony is slow, BUT! This pony just as easily bank on this symbol and become a zoologist!”
> You point at another, two candy canes.
“Another true example of achieving an easy pathway! I don’t even know what this could mean, but think! This pony could have the strenuous position of candy cane factory owner, OR just being an artist! Her purpose in life would to paint white poles with red. She would live such an easy life, and get the same benefit as any other pony here!”
> You start listing several more notable examples when you see three pictures tickles your heart.
“Who.”
> Applebloom: “Hoo-hoo?”
“Who drew these?!”
> You point at three blank pieces of paper, the brilliance masterpieces!
> Three ponies in question, two of which included Applebloom and the orange chicken, raised their hooves.
“Name yourselves!”
> “Applebloom~!”
> “Scootaloo!”
> “Sweetie Belle is my database label, sir.”
> You thrust a palm at the trio, applauding them for their ingenious work.
“These three are my ace students! Their supreme mindsets will set a fine example to VICTORY!”
> All the other fillies and colts are flabbergasted at this statement, having mocked them under usual circumstances.
“Not ONLY have they refused to gain a cutie mark, they can choose to do whatever they want! Unconfined to the standards of society, they can lower their standards however they please!”
> Scootaloo chimes up at this statement of talent;
> “We’re working hard every day to get our cutie marks, though!”
> You snap from looking into the heavens from witnessing a hope to the future, the dream crashing down at her words.
“You mean, you WANT to become confined by duty and purpose, forever enslaved to a pixelated picture on your hindquarters?”
> Sweetie Belle: “That is affirmative. For, together-“
> Applebloom: “We are-!”
> All fucking three of them: “The Cutie Mark Crusaders!”
-----
> Darkness obscures your face, voiding it of any hue or color.
> You look to the left;
> You glance back to the right, your eyes bulging in dismay;
> It finished with a center view of your face looking up in desolation.
> You run off screaming, taking out the sliding screen door in stallion form as you lose the last shred of cool you had remaining.
“I’M IN DESPAIR! OVERWHELMING CONSTRAINTS OF SOCIETY FORCING CHILDREN TO WORK FOR THEIR PERMANENT TALENTS HAS LEFT ME IN DESPAIR!”
> Applebloom chases after you; “Pink Commissioner~!”
> Your class quietly sitting there listening when your voice trails off in cries of agony.
> End