To Fly Away (Currently Inc.)

>Birds are chirping
>Bees are buzzing
>The T.V. is blurting out something you don't care about
>Ahh
>Life
>Isn't it wonderful?
>Now if you can just get a couple more minutes worth of sleep in...
>"Rise and shine, Claire!"
>And there go the fucking curtains
>God damn it, Myles
>His voice forces you to wake up
>And, once you do, the sun burns your eyes faster than a match can burn gasoline
>This causes you to recoil--you shut your eyes tight
>And, you groan
>Sitting up in your bed, you look at your lanky ass roommate with the best frown you can pull off
>You can always pull off your best frowns in the morning
>He just snickers at you
>God, you fucking hate him sometimes
>"Awh, c'mon, don't gimmie that look! We've gotta start off our morning right!"
>You ignore him and proceed to roll back into your bed sheets
>He groans as well
>You do not care
>You just want to sleep
>And you don't need him waking you up at five-fucking-AM
>Sure, the sun's out by five now
>But you don't want to follow the sun's shitty schedule
>But obviously he doesn't care about this
>Why doesn't he care?
>Because the next thing he does is fucking yank your bed sheets off of your bed
>You shiver
>Then you groan
>Again
>"Geeeet uuup, Claaaire~!"
>He says that in his sing-songy voice
>As if the bastard could sing in the first place
>You only sit on the edge of your bed, glaring at him
"There better be breakfast on the kitchen table, Myles."
>"Oh, there is."
>Thank god
>You get up and do a quick stretch, putting a shoulder strap on your pink nightgown back where it belongs
>On your shoulder
>Because for some reason, that flimsy little shit likes to fall off all the time
>Yawning, you start to shuffle out of yours and his bedroom, the gray carpet comforting your bare feet
>It's making your feet warm, at least
>"Breakfast for ants, anyway~."
>What
>You stop in your tracks, just outside the doorway
"Excuse me?"
>"You heard me."
>You're really not in the mood for his shit today
>or, at least, right now
>The bastard sounds so smug, too
>You just want to punch his stupid face in
>Knock his blue eyes out of his sockets
>Rip out that stupid blonde hair
>Break his fucking nose off
>You're a pacifist, however
>So it's not like you'd ever do any of that, anyway
>But the want is always great
>As you turn around, he puts a hand on his hip
>At least he looks a bit more sincere here
>"Claire, calm down. It's just food."
>Never mind that statement
>Still fucking smug
>You growl
>He chuckles
>"Listen, listen, I was just messing with you. Food'll be done in twenty minutes--thirty, tops! Alright?"
>He's removed his hand from his hip by now
>You sigh
>He smiles
>A sincere smile
>Which makes you smile
>Genuinely
>He always seems to make you do that
>"Go on, get dressed and put on something decent--I'll be downstairs if you need me."
>You can't even care about that last comment
>Myles walks over to you and gives you a small hug
>Tiredly, you return the favor
>With an arm
>Fuck, you're way too tired to actually put in the effort to do TWO arms
"Right."
>He starts to walk away
>And you yell after him
"That shit better be done by the time I get down there, though!"
>"Oh, with how long you take in the mirror, it'll be burnt by then!"
>Fuck him
>Rolling your eyes, you make a nice right towards the bathroom
>Once again, you don't pick up your feet
>The carpet feels nice against your bare soles, anyway
>In a matter of time, you reach the bathroom, yawning once again
>It's 5am, you're gonna do that a lot
>You look at yourself in the mirror and sigh
>Brown hair, green eyes
>Glasses
>Wait
>No glasses
>They're in your room
>Currently, your long brunette hairstyle is a fucking mess
>All dry and shit
>Fuck
>You're not gonna bother fixing it right
>You'll just comb it through
>Grabbing a comb, you start at your tornado-aftermath hair
>And while viciously ripping out various shards of your hair because the comb never goes through your damn hair perfectly like in the commercials, you can't help but look at yourself
>Face a fucking mess
>Hair, you already mentioned
>And--Oh god
>Your tits
>AA, 38
>God, you hate them
>You swear, they're smaller than an eight year old's
>You don't even know how you ended up with tits this fucking small
>You Mom had a decent sized rack
>Her Mom had a decent sized rack--from the pictures you've seen, anyway
>And so on and so forth
>So why the fuck do you have the tits of a damned child compared to them?
>You sigh, looking at the floor
>Momentarily, you stop combing
>You need something
>A drink, maybe?
>No, no
>It's way too early, and you're not depressed enough yet
>Maybe you need a friend
>Well, no
>You've got Myles
>Although he's annoying at times, he's still a good friend, through the bad and the good
>Lived with him for five years now, splitting the rent
>A new friend, maybe...?
>...
>No, that's stupid
>You don't need "new" friends
>Friends who'll betray you
>Tell everybody else in the neighborhood terrible, terrible secrets
>Hit you
>No, you don't need that shit
>You've got Myles
>You should be happy with him
>...
>But
>Fuck
>You feel like something's missing
>You need something
>Sex?
>...
>Ew, fuck no
>Not with him, anyway
>No
>But you do need something
>You've felt this way for the past couple of months, really
>So this isn't just your hormones fucking with you again
>Life is good
>You make a good sum of money
>He makes a good sum of money
>He cooks
>You clean
>You two banter every other day
>You don't have any debt, as far as you can tell
>There's literally nothing wrong with your life
>But
>...
>Dropping the subject
>You're acting stupid again
>You look at the mirror again and comb out the rest of your hair
>Now it looks decent
>You quickly clean any dirt that's on your face, and get out of the bathroom
>And as soon as you exit, a smell enters your nose
>A very delicious smell, in fact
>It smells like fried ham
>With extra grease
>Must be bacon
>You smirk
>Another plus?
>He knows what you like
>That, you'll never get over
>So, you start to make your way downstairs
>Past the living room you go, and into the kitchen you enter
>Bastard's wearing a chef's hat, along with a "kiss the cook" apron
>Never will you ever
>He smirks when he hears you enter, turning around briefly to face you
>"Might I say "morning", Claire?"
"You might, but then I'd hit you for being annoying."
>He simply chuckles, turning right back around to continue with his job
>You sit down in the chair at the table
"How much longer 'till it's finished?"
>"Ten more minutes, probably. Still gotta finish up the pancakes."
>Pancakes?
>You look at the pancake maker next to the stove
>Ah
>Pancakes
>Apparently he's bein' real basic today
>Pancakes and bacon
>Wait
>Just that?
>No eggs?
>You rest your head on your hand
"Really? You're gonna make some pancakes an' bacon, but without the eggs? What kinda chef are you?"
>"For your information, Claire, I decided to make them at the end. They take all of two minutes to make, anyway."
>He kinda sounded offended there
>Sweet
>Although, looking at all this food is making you drool
>Fuck
>You start to look around, bored, trying to find something to take your mind off of the foo--is that a fucking flat screen
>You raise a brow
"Myles?"
>"Uh-huh."
"Since when was there a flat screen in the kitchen?"
>"Oh, yeah! That."
>That
>As if it was always there
>"I just got it yesterday. Thought it'd be nice."
>What
>No
>How do you just get a flat screen?
>How is he so nonchalant about this?
>It's a fucking T.V. connected to the cable box in the damn kitchen
>This is something not to be calm about
"Where'd you even get the fuckin' money for this shit?"
>"Overtime."
>Oh
>Overtime
>Right
>You forget that he works himself too much sometimes
>A problem you don't actually care about
>It doesn't seem to cause him any stress
>And it's sure as hell not causing you any stress
>Plus, it just got you a kitchen T.V.
>You can't complain, really
>So, you stand for a moment, only to locate the remote to said flat screen
>It's on the cable box
>Convenient
>You stroll over to said box, picking up the 'mote once you get there
>And on goes the T.V.
>Then you sit back down with the remote, puffing out some air
>Now, all you can do is wait this out
>Wait out his cooking with television
>Shouldn't be long
>You hope
>Besides, it'll be worth the wait
>You know it will
>His food always tastes good, regardless of what you might say to him
>"Hey, you!"
>Your full attention is brought to the T.V., once it calls out to you
>Oh good, a commercial
>Joy
>Myles seemed to jerk his head towards it, before going back to his cooking
>"Yeah, you!"
>Honestly, you want to change the channel right now
>Not because it's a commercial--you enjoy them sometimes
>But because of how it started out
>You mean, fuck
>If you had a damn dollar for every time a commercial did that same intro...
>"Do you like ponies?"
>Ponies?
>Excuse you?
>A pony pops up on the screen
>A very... colorful pony, to say the least
>She has magenta eyes, with a rainbow mane and tail
>Her coat is a... bright blue, almost?
>Not a true blue
>But not a sky blue, either
>It's way too dark to be sky blue
>"Do you like pets?"
>What
>Now it shows a very bright and bejeweled red collar on the screen
>Right next to the pony
>"Would you like to have a pony AS a pet?"
>...
>You're ashamed to admit it, but you actually kinda got excited when the stupid commercial asked you that question
>You've always wanted a pet
>And you've always wanted a pony
>"If so, come on down to Pony Pets!"
>How uncreative
>You're still excited by the idea, however
>"We sell ponies here by the dozen! We got unicorns, pegasi, alicorns!"
>Alicorns?
>The hell's that?
>Actually, no
>That's the wrong question to be asking here
>The right question is...
>Holy fucking shit how do I get one now?
>"Or even if you wanted to, you could just get a normal earth pony! We have tons of these beautiful and majestic creatures!"
>"Talk about a scam," Myles mutters
"Shut up."
>As soon as he said that, however, a shaky camera showed some guy and his pony
>Hugging
>It wasn't CGI or anything
>That shit was real
>You can tell
>He took a glance at the image, coughing
"Hey! Don't cough on the food!"
>He ignores your comment, only looking at the T.V. with complete shock
>"Well fuck my ass and call me Sally."
>The commercial continued
>"Sir, how do you like you new little pony?"
>Some fake reporter was asking this question to the guy hugging his colorful equine
>"I-I... I love her, sir! She's the best thing I could ever ask for!"
>You wanna get in on this
>You want a fucking pony
>The commercial transitions to a picture of a store with the sign "Pony Pets" written on the front
>"To get your pony pet now, drive over to fifty-two, M6 Equestrian Lane! That's fifty-two, M6 Equestrian Lane!"
>You jump out of your seat to grab a pen and paper
>"Wait," Myles turns off the stove, "You don't actually want one, do you?"
>Has he even been watching you throughout that damn commercial?
>Actually, no he hasn't
>His eyes were mostly on the food
"What do you think?"
>He walks towards you, as you jog back to the table
>Once at the table, you slam down the paper and jot down the address with your pen
"Fifty-two, M6 Equestrian..."
>"You don't even know if we have enough money for one!"
>You look up at him once you've finished
"They're pets, right?"
>Confusion hits his face as he takes off his apron
>"Yes... What does that have to do with anything?"
"Pets are free, aren't they? You can just go there and ask for one, right?"
>And not a moment later, he looks at you with a look of pure disgust at what you just said
>Then, he pinches the bridge of his nose
>"You're so fuckin' dumb, Claire..."
>You genuinely thought that's how things worked
>Apparently that's not it at all
>Judging from his reaction, anyway
>"Dogs are sold, just like anything else is, Claire. They aren't a special exception."
>He sighs
>"Because Claire--Know what? No, fuck you, you're not sidetracking me again with your endless questions. Like I said, we probably don't have enough money for one of these ponies."
"Didn't you just say you work overtime?"
>"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Well," you smirk, "You must still have some pocket change left from buyin' that T.V., eh?"
>He growls
>He knows he does
>Sighing, he nods
>"Yeah, about three-hundred," but he won't allow you to retort back, as he quickly continues, "But I was planning on saving that for a vacation!"
"Well, when we get our pony, we can vacation with it."
>He sighs once more
>You typically win these little battles you and him have sometimes
>Only because you don't stop talking
>And he quits too early
>You swear if he just kept arguing...
>"Fine. We'll head over there after breakfast, and see what we can do. If everything is out of my price range, though--"
"Oh come on," you reason, "I'm pretty sure everything's gonna be like, fifty dollars. We'll have a litter of ponies by the time we come back!"
>He groans
>You chuckle
>As he turns away, back to his cooking, he mutters something to himself
>Something or the other about you being a child
>Which, you take offense to
"I'm older than you!"
>"By a fucking day!"


>And so you're driving
>Driving to...
>Get a pony
>Jesus fucking Christ you never realized how absolutely stupid that sounded until now
>But
>…
>You dunno
>Something about going out and getting a pony feels...
>Invigorating?
>Is that the word for it?
>You dunno
>It's weird
>You do feel really damn nice about it, though
>You've never really had a pet before
>That's what these ponies are gonna be like, right?
>Just pets?
>That's what the commercial said, anyway
>Like dogs, or cats
>But better
>Because they're ponies
>…
>Or maybe worse
>You mean
>You've never had a pet before
>But you know some basic things
>Like taking them out for walks
>Feeding them
>Giving them love
>Basic stuff
>You've seen dogs
>You've met dogs
>They're friendly, fluffy, generally nice
>So, the ponies should be the same, right?
>Except a lot more colorful
>Yeah, yeah
>They should
>There's no reason for them not to be
>"Make a left turn on..."
>Your GPS' robotic and feminine voice alerts you back to the real world, and out of your thoughts
>Good, yes
>You're driving, remember?
>You... kinda forgot that
>You've been driving for what must of been twenty-five minutes, by now
>It's kinda easy to forget sometimes, when you're driving
>"We should be close," your friend speaks up, "The commercial said it was on this street."
>Yeah, Equestrian Lane
>Or was it Equestria Lane?
>The latter probably doesn't exist, so you should be fine
>You turn, driving a bit slower now
>And right on cue, the GPS speaks up again
>"Your destination is on your right."
>A quick look to your right, and low and behold, there it--…
>What?
>You stop the car abruptly
>No, no
>This can't be right
>This is a warehouse
>A broken down, creepy-ass warehouse
>Not the pretty and beautiful pet store the commercial promised
>Myles seems to be sharing your dismay as well
>He looks at you with a curious eye
>"...You sure you put in the right location?"
>Looking at the GPS, it speaks again
>"You have reached your destination."
>You press it's screen for the destination
>And up pops up "52M6 Equestrian Lane"
>You take the note out of your pocket
>The one you wrote the address on
>And... fuck
>On the note is "52M6 Equestrian Lane"
>The addresses were the same
>Unless you wrote down the wrong address
>Timidly, you answered his question, staring at the apparatus
"I... I think so."
>Myles swipes it from your hands, glaring at it
>Then, he sighs, putting it down
>"It's right alright."
>Fuck
>He looks away
>"Fuck."
>At least you two share the same feelings
>Sighing, he unlocks his door
>"Well, we came all this way--"
>No
>Fuck him
>You interrupt his monkey ass, giving him a glare
"You can't be serious."
>"Well, we've done stupider shit."
>…
>No you haven't!
>The most you've done with him is go to fucking Hawaii
>That's not the equivalent of falling head first into a scam
>You want to go home
>You don't want to be here!
>This place looks terrible!
>You feel stupid for even coming here!
>Myles is already on the porch steps, waiting for you
>He didn't even bother to wait for your comeback
>"C'mon, Claire! Lets go get your stupid pony and go!"
>...
>You sigh
>Reluctantly, you park your car in front of the warehouse, cutting off your car and making sure to take your keys with you
>Not that you wouldn't have done that if it was a pet store
>But...
>You don't want to forget your keys here, of all places
>You start towards the porch, and meet Myles there
>"Took ya long enough," he teases
>You only smirk
>The two of you look at the weak and worn double doors in front of you
>He starts to knock of one of them, a smirk on his face
>"Lets see what free ponies we can get."
"Oh hus--"
>The door opens
>There's nobody at the door
>But it just opened
>...
>Bail
>Bailbailbailbailba--
>You tried to walk away, but he grabbed you before you could race back to the car
>"Don't try it. You made me come with you all the way here, so we're gonna get what we came for, whether you like it or not."
"But what if something happens?"
>"Like what?"
"Like... Like..."
>Fuck
>For once, you can't think of anything
>...Anything not obvious, anyway
>"Exactly. Come on."
>He took that as a win
>Fuck
>You reluctantly follow him as he walks inside
>Inside isn't much better than out
>You and him right now are just walking through an unstable hallway
>How can a hallway be unstable, one might ask?
>Well, the fact that some purple carpet covers holes in the ground as if they were traps...
>Yeah
>Unstable
>Soon, though, you and him reach a door
>A pink door, actually
>The shit contrasts with every other dull color in this place
>Not that you mind
>It's a nice change of pace
>You decide that you'll open this door, since Myles opened the last
>Is this a good idea?
>Fuck no
>Do you WANT to open the door?
>Fuck no
>Are you doing it just because Myles opened the last one?
>Yes
>Closing your eyes, you put your hand on the knob
>Slowly turning it
>Slowly
>Eventually, you hear a click
>You start to shudder at the thought of what could possibly be behind here
>Slowly, you open the door
>It creaks as you push it ope--
>"Open the fucking door already!"
>Apparently Myles is impatient, kicking the damn thing open
>Any sense of suspense you were unintentionally making is now gone
>Thanks, Myles
>You sigh, as you look through the door--
>Holy shit
>The brightest fucking smile ever just came upon your face
>You've literally never been happier than this moment right now
>Behind that door, is none other than...
"PONIES!"
>You rush inside the door
>And, surprisingly, this part of the warehouse is actually a lot cleaner than the other parts
>And a lot more welcoming
>There's a bunch of warm colors everywhere
>There's a yellow sun in the sky
>Green grass on the floor
>A blue sky
>Shit
>It's almost as if you were outside!
>But, you're not
>This is all painted, of course
>You can see the corners of the room
>And speaking of the room
>It's fucking huge
>And there are tons of cages
>All with cute little ponies inside of 'em!
>And...
>Some other animals you can't identify, too
>But, those don't matter
>You're here for PONIES!
>And you think you've found the perfect one, already!
>You dash over to a purple... Alicorn?
>Maybe that's what it's called?
>It has both wings, and a horn
>So it's probably that
>She--you think it's a she--is sleeping, at the moment
>But fuck does she look cute
>And amazing
>"Hello!"
>FUCK
>You jump, turning around to face a vendor
>He's wearing a green cap with "Pony Pet Paradise" written on the top
>"Apologies for startling you! I was just making sure that you were handling every okay!"
>Where did he come from?
>You didn't see him before now
>What the fuck is going on?
"Uh," you start, looking at the floor, "Yeah, yeah, I'm handling things well."
>"Would you like to buy that po--"
>You were nodding the second he said "Would"
>He chuckles, looking past you to look at the sleeping alicorn
>"That's a perfect selection, ma'am. She's one of our best, never been used before."
>...
>Huh?
>You look at him curiously
>What the fuck does he mean by "never been used before"?
"How much is she?"
>You'll figure out what he meant by that later
>Right now, you want to figure out if you can actually buy this cutie-pie--
>"About three thousand, ma'am."
"Ha! That's not bad at al--what the fuck did you just say?"
>"Uh, three thousand, ma'am?"
>...
>What
>WHAT
>Hahahaha...
>No
>You must've heard that wrong
"Say that again?"
>He looks away, stuttering out the price one more time
>"Th-Three thousand, ma'am."
>You just stare at him
>You just fucking stare at him
>This mother fucker can't be serious
>Who the living fuck would actually pay that much for some stupid pony?
>Before you absolutely fucking lash out at this guy, Myles walks up to the two of you
>He looks at you with a brow raised
>"Claire? You okay?"
"Three thousand."
>"Wait, wha--"
>You grab him by the collar of his shirt
"THREE, FUCKING, THOUSAND."
>"Uh, ma'am, please! W-We do have other, cheaper ponies to sell! This one just so happens to be one of the highest we have!"
>You look at the vendor, letting go of Myles
"Well then, why don't you show us, sir?"
>"R-Right away!"
>The vendor starts to walk off to the other side of the room
>You and Myles follow
>And as you're walking, Myles gives you a cue to let him handle everything
>You sigh
>It's probably best that you do that
>He's a lot calmer than you are about 99% of the time
>The vendor stops in front of a collection of sleeping unicorns, smiling
>"Now, these fine ponies are some of our most refined! They're of the elegant class, a class you... two?"
>Myles nods
>The vendor seems more confident now
>"A class you two absolutely MUST be apart of!"
>"What's the price?"
>Sheesh, Myles
>How dry
>"The price range goes from two thousand to one thousand, sir!"
>Myles frowns
>And you do too
>The vendor gulps
>"W-Well, we do also have a cheaper selection of ponies with us! Come."
>He walks to another corner of the room, and of course, you and Myles follow
>Now, he's motioning towards some sleeping pegasi
>"Well, these fine ponies over here might be a little more brash than your average unicorn, but I can assure you they're most perfect for your needs! Most have only had one owner, or less before!"
>Really?
>You put a hand to your chin, smiling
>These guys could be useful
>"Price?"
>Again, Myles, dry
>Very, very dry
>"They go from the nine hundred to five hundred price range, sir."
>And that smile evaporates like water on a hot summer Sunday
>"You don't have anything cheaper, dude?"
>The vendor's eyes dart towards another part of the room
>"Yes, sir. They're just right over here."
>And again, you and Myles follow the vendor to another part of the store
>Now, you're in front of a bunch of sleeping earth ponies
>One in particular catches your attention
>She's wearing a hat, and has apples tattoo'd on her ass
>"These ponies are definitely a lot more wild than the others, but I can assure you that they're great!"
>"Price?"
>"They go from eight hundred to three hundred."
>You light up
>Three hundred is a perfect price range!
>You dash over to the applepone
>On the gate, it says her name
>"Applejack"
>How uncreative
>Who named her?
"How much does this one in particular cost?"
>The vendor strolls over to you
>"About five hundred fifty, ma'am!"
>...
>Oh
>You sigh
>Damn it
>"Anything lower than that?"
>Now, the vendor's starting to look nervous again
>"Well... We DO, but," he pauses, looking at another section, "They're aren't exactly ponies."
>Now, both you and Myles give him a curious glare
>All the vendor does is walk over towards the section in question
>And, over here, there are only five cages
>There's one...
>Bug
>Pony
>Thing
>A... dragon, seems like?
>Maybe it's a lizard, seeing as how it doesn't have wings
>There's a zebra
>And another bug-pony thing
>All of these guys are sleeping
>...
>Except for one
>There's this really weird cat...
>Bird
>Thing
>Catbird
>And this one isn't sleeping at all, unlike everyone else in this place
>And, to top it off, this one has restraints
>She has a muzzle on her beak
>And there's bindings on her wings
>Nobody else has this but her
>"These particular creatures are... wild, to say the least. While I'm sure they can be trained, there's no guarantee that they'll listen to you."
>"Price?"
>"Two hundred and lower."
>That's pretty good, actually
>Although
>It makes you scared to actually get any of these guys
>What if you end up getting hurt by one of them?
>Curious by the catbird, Myles walks over to her
>"W-Wait, sir! I would recommend not purchasing... /her/."
>He looks back at the vendor
>"Well, why not?"
>Shy eyed, the vendor responds
>"W-Well, you see, sir, this one has had many, many owners before. And, honestly, nothing good has come out of it. She's hurt more than helped, and she's the purest definition of wild! Which is why she has her unpleasant restraints."
>Out of the corner of your eye, you see her roll her eyes
>Myles missed this, however
>His back was facing her at the time
>But, when the vendor was done speaking, he looked back at her
>And... he inspected her
>Thoroughly
>...About as thorough as you can get when they're behind a cage and all
>Then, he reads her name off of the gate door
>"Gilda."
>He smirks
>Turning around to face the vendor once more, he pops a question
>"She's "wild", so you say?"
>Vendor nods
>"Dangerous, even?"
>The vendor nods
>"Treacherous, perhaps?"
>Again, he nods
>"Hm."
>He goes to dig in his pocket, taking out the three hundred bucks he brought
>...
>Oh fuck
>"How much is she?"
>"One hundred, sir."
>Five twenties, he sorts in particular
>But you're not having that shit
"AHEM."
>Myles turns to you, an eyebrow raised
>"Is there a problem, Claire?"
>You point to the door that you entered in
"We need to talk."
>He walks over to the door, and so do you
>The vendor tries to follow, but you just glare at him
>"R-Right, this is a private manner. I'll be over here--terribly sorry."
>When you and him reach the door, you grab the collar of his shirt again
"Are you fucking insane? Do you want to die?"
>"Oh, whatever do you mean, Claire?"
>He's acting smart again
>God damn it
"You know exactly what I mean, fuckass. You were about to buy that thing back there!"
>"Don't call Gilda a "thing"."
>Is he really addressing her by name?
>Is he fucking serious?
"I'll call that THING whatever the hell I want to, thank you very much! She could very well kill us!"
>"So could every other "thing" in this place--"
"DON'T CALL THEM "THING"S!"
>He chuckles
>"So you can call Gilda a "thing", but I can't call those stupid ponies--"
"They're not stupid--"
>"STUPID ponies, things?"
>You growl
"One, they can't hurt us, they're all trained to not do that. And two, those ponies are NOT things! They're cute and cuddly PONIES."
>"Gilda is just as cute and cute as cuddly as those stupid things."
>He's doing this on purpose
>The fucking bastard
>"All jokes aside, though," he continues, "Claire, when I look at Gilda, I see something with potential."
>You raise a brow
"Potential?"
>"Uh-huh. I mean, shit, if we buy Gilda and train her, then she could become a protector, of sorts, for us."
>...
>Huh
>Shit, you've never thought of it like that
>"Plus, with those wings of her's, she could become a second car for us!"
>Shit
>The fucker's got a point there, too
>You sigh
>He's won, again
>The little shit
>"You seeing it my way, now?"
"Yeah, yeah."
>"Good. Then why don't you do the honors, then?"
>Wait what
>He holds out the five twenties he was going to give the vendor earlier
>...
>Why does he want you to buy her?
>You're still reluctant to even have her, despite his points
>You'd rather him buy her himself
>Then you won't feel guilt when you ignore her
>Because she's not your's, technically
>She's his
>But with this
>It's making her your's
>Technically
>You give him a curious stare
"Ain't you the one who wants her in the first place?"
>"Aren't you the one who wanted one in the first place?"
>Fuck
>Him
>You just swipe the money from him at this point
>He chuckles as you two head back to the vendor
>"Hello! How was your conversation?"
>What the hell kind of question is that?"
"Fine, I guess. Listen, we've made our choice."
>"Have you? So, which pony shall you buy?"
>You point at Gilda
"That one, thank you very much."
>His eyes widen
>"You--... You can't be serious, ma'am. You're joking, yes?"
"As much as a five year old child would on the day his mom dies."
>That was dark
>Even for you
>But it gets the point across
>"But... But ma'am--"
"Save it, dude. Our minds are made up. Just take the money and give us the catbird."
>You hold out the five twenties in front of him
>And reluctantly, the vendor takes them from you
>"If you really wish to take that one with you..."
"We do. Trust me, dude."
>You don't
>But you'll say you do
>Because it's not like you're gonna buy another pony any time soon
>Once the vendor has taken your money, he goes to unlock the cage
>Before he lets her out, though, he puts a collar on her
>The collar is connected to a leash
>A dog leash, must be
>He walks with her back over to you and Myles
>"I... I hope you enjoy her."
>"Trust me, we will."
>Myles takes the leash from him
>And he guides the catbird back to the door you two were just at
>During this, he decides to baby talk the thing
>"Aren't you just the cutest 'lil thing? Aren't you, aren't you? Look at you, Gilda! You're so nice, and clean!"
>He pets her head every so often, too
>And you have to watch this
>You follow them with your arms folded
>Soon, the three of you--that already sounds weird--are already outside
>Past the broken hallways and such
>Myles continues to baby talk her throughout this
>He doesn't stop
>And it's killing you inside
>When you reach the car, he puts her in the back
>While you get in the front
>Myles enters on the passenger's side, of course
>Poor little shit can't drive
>Hasn't got his permit yet
>"Alright. Lets get home quick, Claire. I wanna spend some time with Gilda."
"Just make sure to do it when I'm not looking, okay?"
>You smirk
>He frowns
>"I'm not gonna fuck her, you shit! That's disgusting!"
"Says the guy who's said that he would fuck a sheep."
>He blushes, crossing his arms now
>"I WAS DRUNK!"
"Doesn't mean shit, dude. The words came out of your mouth, not anybody else's."
>You take out your keys and put them in the ignition, starting the car--
>"And to clarify, I was talking about an anthro sheep, not a four-legged one."
>Pfffft
>You burst out laughing
"Information wasn't needed, but I'm using it again you now."
>"Fucking an anthro sheep is better than fucking a normal one!"
"Says the furry."
>"I'm not a furry--"
"Says the furry."
>"Claire, you've known me for how long? Since when have I implied that I was a furry?"
"Just now, actually. You furry."
>He quits
>Poor, poor Myles just growls at this point, causing you to have a nice chuckle
>Maybe you don't win these all the time
>But when you do win...
>God does it feel nice


>"Who's the cutest girl in the world? Who's the cutest, huh?"
>Ugh
>"Yooou are! Yoooou are!"
>Holy shit make it stop
>And then he gave the catbird a smooch on the cheek
>UGH
>This is borderline disgusting
>The only thing that would actually make it worse is if she was licking him
>Thank God she's not
>You think you'd throw up
>Currently, you're acting grouchy as hell on the living room couch
>Why are you doing this?
>Because you're TRYING to watch something
>Something or the other about these Pony Pets
>But noooo
>They just HAVE to be in front of the T.V., huh?
>Literally right in front of you
>Fuck them
>You can hear Gilda making all sorts of "cute" noises in response to the petting and hugging and all the bullshit she's doing
>She's even playing with his fingers
>As if she doesn't have some herself
>Fuck
>You hate this
>You wish they would MOVE
>But no
>It's not happening
"Could you two get a room already?"
>Myles turns his head to you with a smirk
>"What's up?"
>Gilda and Myles both sit
>Gilda's sitting like a dog, however
>Although you don't know how else she would sit, seeing as how she's an animal, and all
"You know exactly what's up--"
>"Still mad over Gilda, huh?"
>No!
>You aren't mad over her
>The stupid little shit
>No
>They're just in front of the T.V., is all
>That's it
>Nothing more
>...
>Funny, how it takes you a moment before you answer him back
"No. I just wanna watch the news, is all."
>"Pfft, yeah--okay. Since when have you last watched the news?"
"Yesterday."
>"Time and place."
>Uh
"Midnight...?"
>"You knock out at ten."
>Damn it
>Suddenly, Gilda's stomach grumbles
>Or...
>Was that her mouth?
>Er...
>Beak
>Thing
>You saw it open a little
>And she looked away
>Of course, you weren't paying attention well
>And he wasn't paying attention at all
>So you could be wrong
>Your friend looks towards the catbird, smiling
>"You hungry, girl?"
>She nods her head
>With that, he gets up, stretching a bit
>"Alright. Lemme go make you something, then."
>As he starts to walk into the kitchen... he stops
>Then he turns to you
>"Uh... What do catbirds eat?"
>Did she just cringe?
"Fish, maybe? They are cats, after all."
>"Part cat."
"Whatever."
>"And next, you'll be saying that she should eat worms, too."
>You roll your eyes
>He snickers
>"Although, that isn't a bad idea. One of your smarter ideas today."
"Making her eat worms?"
>"No. Cooking her fish. There's no way I'd have her eats worms if she doesn't want to."
>Maybe they could work as a snack
>Although, out of the corner of your eye, you see Gilda dreading this idea
>Apparently, she doesn't like worms
>Note to self: buy her worms
"Buying a pony wasn't a smart idea?"
>You decide to get back on track of the conversation
>A first, for you
>"It wasn't. Buying a CATBIRD was a smart idea."
>You just roll your eyes
>"Anyway, you want some, too? It could be our lunch."
"It's barely eight AM."
>He looks surprised at your deadpan
>Then, he looks at the clock on the cable box
>"Holy shit you're right."
>Seven forty, exactly
>"I thought it was fuckin' noon."
"Do you see a "noon" sun out there?"
>"Do you see an eight AM sun out there?"
>Shit, point taken
>Of course, you won't actually admit that
>But still
>You simply turn away, grumbling nonsense under your breath
>He sighs
>"I'll put off making us lunch, then."
>He turns to Gilda
>"You want some breakfast, girl?"
>She nods her head
>"Heh. She's a smart little catbird."
>And she cringes again
>Sheesh, she really doesn't like being called that, huh?
>It's what she is, so it's not like it's gonna stop anytime soon
>As Myles walks into the kitchen, he calls out to you
>"Watch Gilda while I cook, okay? Don't do anything to her you wouldn't do to me!"
>Then...
>No hitting
>Okay, cool
>You can do that
>Not like you'd wanna hurt an animal, anyway
>No matter how much you hate them
>You're a pacifist, as mentioned before
>So it's not like you'd hit them in the first place
>When Myles is fully into the cooking process--getting the fish out of the fridge, getting the ingredients to make it good, ect., ect.--the catbird decides to flutter it's way to the couch
>And then it plops it's butt right next to you
>Oh great
>Now you're gonna smell like birdass for the rest of the day
>You sigh
>Whatever
>Not like you can't take a shower or anything
>You can't help but notice the fact that if you didn't have legs, then you and the catbird would be the same height
>How do you know this?
>Well, when she sits on the couch, she can look at you eye to eye
>That's like...
>What
>Four feet, four foot five, almost?
>Impressive, for a catbird
>Speaking of impressive feats
>You reach for the remote sitting on the table in front of you, but Gilda--wait what
>Gilda gets to it first
>...
>Oh okay then
>She changes the channel from the stupid news to something more tolerable
>South Park
>...
>She knows how to change the channel?
>You look at her, curiously
>Myles wasn't kidding--she really is smart
>Hmm...
>You look at Myles cooking
>And you look back at the catbird
>You wonder...
>You get up, moving into the kitchen
>Myles notices you, chuckling
>"You tired of watching her already?"
"No, no. Just wanna see somethin' for a moment."
>You look in the cabinets
>Nothing, yet--wait
>Ha!
>There it is
>Cereal
>Cinnamon Toast Crunch, to be exact
>Everybody loves this shit
>The dumb bird should like it, too
>It'll be her treat before she eats
>As you grab the box, your friend decides to speak up
>He doesn't seem too happy about your actions
>"What the hell are you doing?"
>You look at Myles with a smile
"Feeding the birds, obviously."
>He frowns
>"Do you not see me making her food?"
"Yeah, I do. You better keep an eye on it before you burn it."
>He looks down at the stove
"Why are you frying fish?"
>"Because I'm cooking."
"Isn't she a cat, though? I thought cats don't eat fried shit."
>He just looks at the stove for a moment, before sighing
>"Fuck."
>You chuckle
>"Guess I forgot that I was cooking for a catbird and not a person."
>Can't blame 'em for that
>He usually cooks for humans
>Never pets
>You can hear him sigh right after that, though
>"You're gonna spoil her."
"So we're just gonna pretend like that never happened, right?"
>"Oh shut up. My point still stands."
>You start to walk away
"Like a couple treats ever spoiled anybody."
>"You've obviously never had children before."
>You chuckle
"Yeah, says Mr. Sterile."
>He speaks while he cooks
>"You know I could literally spit out three reasons why I know more than you on this subject."
>This should be fun
>You twirl around to face him, crossing your arms
"Spit out two, you'll hurt your brain less."
>"Least I have a brain."
"Was that a reason? I couldn't quite tell."
>He sighs
>Then, he puts up a finger
>"One, I've babysat for literally countless of Moms during my highschool days."
>Two fingers
>"Two, I've had little siblings--something you never had."
>Three fingers
>"And three--"
>This is getting tiring
>You asked him for two for a reason
"Okay, okay, I get your point--"
>"You know if you got my point, you'd leave the box on the table."
>Fuck
>What a Mom
"Fine, fine. Whatever."
>You open up the cereal box, taking a couple cereal-bits out before putting it on the table
>"Thank you."
"No problem."
>As you walk away once again, you can't help but snicker
>You should be a fucking spy with your stealth
>So
>You walk in front of Gilda
>In front of the T.V., to be exact
>She looks up at you with annoyed curiosity
>But then she notices the food in your right hand
>And her tail starts to wag
>But, you shake your finger at her
>And almost immediately her eyebrows furrowed
>What a cunt
>Making some space, you move the table closer to the T.V. and move to one end of the couch
>You direct Gilda to do the same
>"What are you doing?"
"Oh, nothing!"
>Thank God he's too busy cooking to care
"Now, catbird," that's at least three cringes now, "I'm gonna give you a series of orders that you should follow."
>You hold up a cereal-bit
"For each order you do correctly, you get a treat!"
>She smiles
"But, for each order you do incorrectly..."
>You walk over to her and pluck her beak
>She looks mildly annoyed at this
>Backing up a bit, you smile
"Alright, let's begin!"
>She nods
"First order--sit!"
>She sits on her butt
>You throw a cinnamon toast thing at her
>It hits her beak
>She frowns at this, her eyebrows furrowed
>Quite expressive, isn't she?
>Picking up the treat with her claw, she gives you this "really?" kind of face
>Then she tosses the treat to the side
>...
>Picky little bitch
>You'll ignore that, though
"Okay, next order--Lay down!"
>And she does so
>You toss another treat at her
>This time, it hits her face
>She growls
>You're not hitting her on purpose!
>Honest!
>She's supposed to catch them with her mouth
>Fuck
>You thought she was trained
>Although, you could probably take this as revenge for earlier
>Blocking your T.V. with all that love and affection
>She tosses that one away too
>Okay, last order
>You've only got the one left, anyway
"Okay, final order, Gilda! Speak!"
>...
>For some reason, you got her steaming with this one
>She looks like she's about to kill you
>Which... frightens you
>To a degree
>Yes, you feel like she might hurt you
>But...
>...
>Uh
>Yeah, there's no upside to this
>You'd rather fucking live for another day than get mauled by her
"You heard me. Speak!"
>Nevermind
>Obviously you don't want to live if you're pushing your fucking luck like this
>Everything is telling you to stop except for common sense
>Give her the damn shit
>That's it
>That's all there is to this
>But
"I'm not gonna say this again, Gilda--"
>"Give it to me."
>What
>"Now."
>What
>You freeze
>You don't know if it's out of fear or if it's because you're going fucking insane
>Because she just...
>No
>No she didn't
>That was...
>That was your mind
>It had to be
>And even if it wasn't
>You had to be hearing things again, yeah?
>Yeah?
>You mean
>It hasn't happened in like
>A year, ever since you got your hearing checked out
>But it could be happening again
>But even if it was Gilda that just spoke, she spoke in a very low tone
>Possibly to keep Myles from hearing
>Probably
>Although, she sounded pretty furious
>As if she was about to rip your arm off just to get that one little piece of cereal
>But you know she didn't talk
>Because animals can't talk
>That was your imagination
>You're going crazy
>Fuc--
>"Did I stutter?"
>Her expression didn't change
>She's going to kill you
>Hahaha
>Yeah she talked
>She talked
>Holy shit she talked
>Okay you need to tell Myles about this right the fuck now
>She put her claw out, and you placed the treat in it
>She smiled, walking over to the couch and sitting once more
>Now
>Ahem
"MYL--"
>And now there's a claw covering your mouth
>Holy fuck she's fast
>Myles answers you, but he's not turning around
>Oh, only if he was
>"Yeah, what's up, Claire?"
>"Oh, nothing, sweet cheeks. I'm fiiiiine."
>...
>Did--...
>Did she just try to impersonate you?
>Holy shit
>Her gravely ass alto trying to imitate your lackluster soprano was fucking terrible
>God you never want to hear it again
>"Sweet Cheeks? Sheesh, you haven't called me that in years!"
>What the fuck is he--oh
>Oh God
>No please, for the love of God
>Don't bring up repressed memories
>You repressed them for a reason
>Yeah you actually had a thing for him
>For like, a day
>Maybe a little over two months
>He would never stop teasing you about it once you got over it
>Fuck was that annoying
>And
>Gilda just brought that up again
>Unintentionally, of course
>But still
>It's pretty damn inexcusable
>You're starting to fucking hate this stupid bird
>"Oh, well," she's fucking doing it again, "I thought I'd, uh, call you it again! It's a really fitting name for you."
>"Oh, so you're finally seeing how great of an ass I have, 'eh?"
>You're dying inside
>God you hate this so fucking much
>This is worse than those two cuddling and hugging on the fucking floor
>Gilda--obviously--doesn't know how to respond
>She only floated there a bit before continuing
>"Uhm... Yes...?"
>"Wait, what?"
>Gilda is apparently very, very smart
>Mostly because she let go of you the instant he said that, dashing to the couch to sit down
>Must've realized she fucked up there
>Little shit
>Myles stops the stove for a bit, turning around and walking up to you
>"Er, Claire, are you okay? You're not hitting on me again, are you? You know you're bad at it."
>It hurts
>You're cringing on the inside
>If you were to do it on the outside, you're sure you would've definitely alerted him to something being up
>Not that Gilda didn't do that already
"I'm fine, Myles. Fine. Don't know why you stopped cooking the moment I said something a little unexpected."
>He raises a brow
>This is gonna be hard to talk through
>"A little? Are you kidding me, dude? While I thought the "sweet cheeks" comment was a little queer--"
"Why do you still use that word?"
>He continues, obviously ignoring your attempt to move to a different conversation
>Fuck
>"The whole "yes" to my ass looking nice thing..."
>He pauses for a moment
>"Were you just trying to get me to react like that? Or did you get drunk in five seconds?"
>You cross your arms, rolling your eyes
"You know I don't do that shit."
>"Wasn't to be taken literally. What the fuck's up, Claire?"
>He literally stopped cooking for this bullshit
>God damn it
>Your eyes dart to the bird for a second
"Will you believe me if I tell you?"
>"Depends on how bullshit it sounds."
>Oh good
>That means "no"
>Good, now you get to mentally prepare for his little "I don't believe you" speech
"Well," you start, "What if I told you that Gilda can talk?"
>He groans
>"And what if I told you that pigs could fly?"
>You knew it
>Fucking hell, this bastard
>You're the one groaning now, returning to the couch and sitting next to Gilda
>"Oh come on. Do you really expect me to believe that she can talk? Seriously?"
"I didn't believe it at first, either. But low and behold--"
>"Don't give me that shit. You act like this is the first time you've told me something this stupid."
>It's not
>Maybe a little bit over the years, you've fucked with him too hard
>Like that one time you had him convinced that 2012 was actually gonna happen
>The day after the supposed "2012", you weren't allowed to use anything he bought for a month
>Which was most things
>Shit, you had to buy your own food for the longest
>Not that you don't do that now
>But when you go grocery shopping, you and him usually split the bill--okay
>You're getting off track
>Although while you're off track you might as well mention that the stupid bird is snickering all the way through this
>Stupid little shit
"You act like I haven't been right about dumb shit before--"
>"You haven't."
>...
>He may or may not be right about that
>Fuck
>You lie to him too much
>"And besides, even if you were right, why the fuck would I believe you about something like this, regardless?"
>...
>And he has a point there, too
>Damn him
>Damn him to hell
"Well, that's just because I can prove it."
>He smirks, putting a hand on his hip
>"Really now? You can prove the impossible, huh?"
"It's not impossible, you just don't believe it."
>Now he's moved himself over to a wall, leaning on it
>"Alright then--prove it. Prove that she can talk. I wanna see this."
>Honestly...
>You do, too
>Because you're not entirely sure exactly HOW you can prove it
>Shit
>You only got her to talk in the first place because of an accident
>You didn't think she was ACTUALLY going to speak
>Although...
>Maybe trying that again wouldn't hurt?
>Your eyes survey the room, up until you see one of those cereal-bits Gilda threw off to the side
>Oh good, you'll need that
"Pick that up for me?"
>You point to it
>"Pick up what?"
"That cinnamon toast crunch thing on the floor. Pick that up for me?"
>He looks at the floor, and then he immediately frowns at you
>"I thought I told you NOT to give that to her--"
"Oh shut up and just give it to me. You'll thank me later."
>He sighs, picking it up and walking over to you
>He tosses it to you, and you barely catch it
>Now
>For the moment of truth
>You look at Gilda
>She looks at you
>Her brow is raised
>As if she doesn't already know what's going to happen
>You toss the treat in her face
>On purpose, this time
"Speak, girl!"
>Gilda recoils, holding onto her head
>The cereal-bit bounces back to you
>Myles does not appreciate this
>"What the fuck is this supposed to prove?"
"Shhh."
>You grab the bit again and toss it at her
>It hits her beak
>She growls
"I said speak!"
>"Claire, stop it. She obviously doesn--"
"SHHH."
>This isn't going to go well, is it?
>Grabbing the treat once more, you toss it at her
"Spea--"
>"LISTEN YOU FUCKING WHORE--"
>...
>Silence surrounded the room
>Gilda clamped her claws on her beak, shock written all over her face
>And, honestly, you and Myles shared the same shock
>For different reasons, of course
>But shock none the less
>After the initial shock passes, Gilda puts her claws on the couch, sighing
>"Damn it."
>She whispered to herself, looking at the floor
>After another moment, Myles is--surprisingly--the first to speak
>Directly to Gilda, in fact
>"...I should fucking scold you for that."
>...
>Wait what
>You look at Myles with an extreme disbelief
"Did you really just fucking say that?"
>He looks back at you, crossing his arms
>"So what if I did? What's wrong with that?"
"THERE IS A TALKING FUCKING CATBIRD IN OUR PREMISES--"
>She fucking growled, her claws digging into the couch before her voice boomed again
>"WOULD YOU TWO STOP CALLING ME THAT?!"
>And now, your attention--along with Myles'--is brought directly to Gilda
>You only raise a brow
"Huh?"
>"Ugh. You two keep calling me... /that/."
>"Calling you what?"
>You were just as confused as he was
>She looks away, still obviously angry
>"/Catbird/," she pauses to sigh, "I fucking hate that stupid little nickname you humans made for me."
>Huh
>No wonder why she was cringing every time either of you said it
>"I am NOT a catbird. I'm a /griffon/. Get it?"
>You look to Myles with the same confused expression
>And he shares it, completely
>...
>It's another moment or two before anyone speaks
>And, again, Myles decides to be the speaker
>"Excuse me for a moment, I have to use the restroom."
>He then turns towards the kitchen, walking away--wait
>The kitchen?
>But...
"The bathroom's upstairs!"
>"I know!"
>Wait
>...
>Oh
>Oooh
>You get it now
>And out the backdoor he goes
>"Does he always pee outside?"
"He's not going out there to pee--"
>And now
>Screaming
>Screaming coming from him, presumably
>It IS coming from the backyard, after all
>You kind of wish you felt bad for him
>Kind of
>The bastard deserves to share your reaction to a talking fucking bird
>That shit just doesn't happen everyday


>You sigh, along with Gilda
>The sizzling on the pan in the kitchen hasn't been heard in the last thirty minutes
>What the fuck is he doing?
>He came back in like, an hour ago
>And instantly, he started on her fish again
>But now, it's just silence
>Except for one thing
>The living room T.V.
>Looking away from the T.V. for a moment, you take a glance over to the kitchen, noticing Myles sitting at the table with a hand to his head
>…
>He looks stressed
>Which is weird
>This is probably one of the first times you've ever seen him stressed
>You're not kidding
>This is the guy who wakes up every morning at four thirty with a fucking smile on his face
>You thought it was impossible for him to get stressed with how insanely happy he is
>Maybe you should go over there—wait
>He's getting up
>Well, there goes that plan
>As Myles sighs, he grabs a plate off the kitchen counter
>This is where you take your eyes off him, redirecting your attention back to the T.V.
>Which reminds you again of Gilda
>Who's had the damn thing blaring for the past hour now
>Honestly, you would've striked up a conversation with her, just so you didn't have to watch her shitty shows
>But no
>Fuck that
>For one, it'd just be weird as all hell
>Animals aren't supposed to talk, last you've checked
>Same goes for catbirds--er
>Griffons
>And two, you HATE her
>You wouldn't want to talk to her anyway
>You mean, she only just reminded you of a period in your life that you had just forgotten, finally
>And now it's in your head again
>Forever
>...
>Have you even mentioned that you fucking hate her?
>Suddenly, a "ding" is heard from the kitchen
>You take another glance towards it, where you see Myles carrying a plate of fried fish
>…
>Did he just microwave that?
>He starts to walk over here, a feigned smile on his face
>Actually, you don't really know if it's fake or not
>You just assume it is because of the whole "stressed out" thing he had going on earlier
>As he walks over to his pet—can you even call her that now?--he raises a brow at her
>"You like your fish fried?"
>Okay, hold up
>Why the FUCK is he so nonchalant?
>You mean
>Yeah, sure, he did scream for... a good two minutes
>That was funny
>But
>Shit
>He talks as if he knew Gilda was always a talking cat--griffon
>Actually, no
>Fuck it
>She's a catbird
>Fuck her
>Anyway, this isn't the first time--surprisingly--that he had this reaction to her
>When she first fucking spoke, he was like this
>What the fuck!
>Ugh
>Dropping this train of thought, you look to catbird
>Who looked at the dish before her with a rather large smile
>"Holy shit, do I!"
>And she swipes the plate from him, quickly digging in
>Pig
>Catpig
>You think this actually got him to smile a little bit more genuinely than before, though
>Which, in turn, makes you smile
>At least a little bit
>…
>Well, that is until Gilda speaks up again, anyway
>"Thanksh, mashter!"
>Why is she talking with her mouth fu--wait
>Hold the fuck up
>...
>Master?
>Even Myles seems confused by this little nickname
>Catbird must be into some serious BDSM or something
>"Master?"
>He questions her, moving to sit on the armrest next to her
>As she swallowed, a look of shock grew on her face
>Pretty much an "I just fucked up" look
>"Huh?"
>She looks at Myles with curiosity
>Although, you're ninety-nine percent sure it's completely feigned
>She knows what she said
>Everybody heard it
>"You just called me Master."
>Or she could've called you Master
>...
>Actually, no, that's stupid
>She was talking to Myles, not you
>"What? N-No I didn't."
>Lying through her fucking beak
>"Yeah, you kinda did--"
>"Dude, you sure your stupid girlfriend didn't say that?"
>Okay so now your eye is twitching
>God you hate this bird
>Sighing, Myles takes a seat on the armrest next to her
>"One, she's not my girlfriend," you can't help but smile at that, "And two, I'm pretty sure you said that."
>Sighing, you cross your legs, resting your head on your hand
>Now that that little problem is explained--
>"You sure she's not your girlfriend? She's gotta be your wife then, right?"
>You swear to all that's mighty...
>He sighs once more, speaking a lot more sternly than before
>"Me and Claire are not in a relationship, Gilda. If anything, we're friends--that's it."
>You cough
>He looks over to you, smirking
>"BEST friends. Nothing more, nothing less."
>There we go
>That's better
>"We're getting off track here," and his attention is right back to Gilda, "You called me Master--"
>"You must be hearing things, then, Ma--dude," she picks up whatever else is left on her plate and eats it
>Wait
>My dude?
>"My ears aren't fucked like Claire's--I /know/ what I heard."
"Low blow."
>"You're welcome, by the way."
>You sigh
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
>You remember back when Myles took you to get your hearing fixed
>It had to be like, a year ago, almost
>It was so nice of him--fucker was so humble about it, too
>You don't remember his exact words, but he said something along the lines of "I'm not gonna let you suffer like this. Shit, we got the money--there's no reason to not do it!"
>Also, there was something else to it, too
>Something along the lines of him getting annoyed by your reactions to the sounds
>By his tone at the time, though, you could tell this reasoning was merely secondary
>It had to be
>And shit, while you never formally thanked him for it, you're sure as hell thankful for it
>If he had never did that, you'd still be hearing these weird ass sounds every now and again
>...
>You're smiling again
>Genuinely
>Not that you don't smile genuinely most times
>It's just that kind of Myles-smile
>If that makes any sense
>You hear a loud gulp and a long sigh
>Must be from Gilda
>Who really wants want to keep to her little lie, doesn't she?
>"Maybe they're getting fucked, then. It happens to the best of us."
>You roll your eyes
>Myles was going to respond to this
>He was probably going to prove her wrong, like he does with you sometimes
>But then he realizes something, something you just realized, too
>She's not wrong
>While, sure, she's not right either
>There's not exactly a third party here to break this
>...
>Well, reliably break this, anyway
>You're not a reliable third party, sadly
>You wish you were
>But, sometimes, life doesn't go the way you want it to
>Thankfully, Myles knows this fact
>So, he doesn't bother bringing you up for the tiebreaker
>Sighing, he pinches the bridge of his nose
>"Ugh. Fine. I'll drop it."
>And with that, he concedes
>He's used to doing that, though
>So doing it once more shouldn't be a problem
>"Thanks, Ma--dude."
>My dude
>That's the second time she's said that
>Obviously, she wants to say "Master"
>But as far as you and him are concerned, she's just saying "my dude"
>Saying it really awkwardly, at that
>...
>Oh who the fuck are you kidding?
>She's just interrupting herself so she doesn't say "Master" again
>Smart of her, but it's gonna bite her in the ass later on
>You already know it is
>Shit like that never goes well
>But, you two will ignore it
>For now, anyway
>It'll pop up again later
>She's almost repeated her mistake twice now, there's no way it won't
>"I'll just ask you some questions, then."
>She just raises a brow at him
>"What kind of questions?"
>"Lots of 'em, really. Questions that range from who your last owner was, to what your favorite food is."
>For a second there, you could swear that she seemed nervous
>But, it was short lived, because after that, she put a claw to her chin
>Then, she smirks
>"Alright. I'm perfectly fine with that."
>"Perfect! First ques--"
>"As long as I get something to eat, first."
>Excuse you?
>Did you just hear those words out of her mouth--er
>Beak?
>Looks like she's gonna need a quick throw down on the food rules that go around in here
"Ha, yeah, no."
>Swiftly, she turns her head to face you
>"Excuse me?"
>You smirk
"Nice try, Catbird, but that's not gonna roll here. You're not gonna eat again, not right after you literally just had your breakfast."
>She crosses her arms
>Chuckling, you continue
"Shit, you'll be lucky to get a snack in between breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And, if I remember correctly, you just HAD a snack. You'll be better off waiting those three hours until noon, Catbird."
>She's growling now
>And all you can do is smirk
>You've successfully laid down the rules, without the help of Myles
>Well, A rule, anyway
>And he was right there, the whole time, too!
>You bet he's looking at you with pride
>In fact, you take a look at Myles
>Just to make sure he's got that pride written all over his face
>The pride a Dad would have after his son just made the winning score in a football game or something
>You look to his face to search for the pride
>The pride you know he has
>...
>Weird
>You can't exactly find pride there
>His face is mostly painted with uneasiness
>That, and a bit of concern
>…
>Oh no
>"Well, I wouldn't exactly say that, Claire..."
>His face goes back to a neutral, "let me explain" face
>And at this, your little smirk fades away
>A frown replaces it
>This is gonna be "good"
>"I mean, you're right and all, Claire, don't get me wrong. It's just that... I don't think her snack was really a "snack", in the traditional sense."
"What do you mean?"
>"I mean--well, you fed her, right?"
>You nod
>His eyes dart quickly towards the last cinnamon toast crunch piece on the floor
>Then back to you
>Suddenly, realization hits your face
>This son of a...
>You cross your arms
>"You get what I'm getting at, right?"
"Fuck you."
>"Yeah, you do."
>Bastard's implying that you didn't feed her properly
>Which, in hindsight, you didn't
>But the thought from him still offends you
>He gets off the armrest, starting to walk towards the kitchen
>"It'll just be something small. A plate of chips, or something."
>"I like barbecue!"
>"Perfect."
>Perfect because that's all there is left in the house
>As he walks away, he goes over to where the little bit is and tosses it in the trash
>You stop paying attention to him after that
>Because now, you're glaring at Gilda
>And she can't help but smirk at you
>"What was that about "waiting three hours", again? Didn't quite catch it the first time."
>Keep calm, Claire
>Keep calm
>You're not allowed to hurt her, remember?
>You said it yourself
>You can't go back on your word now
>With a sigh, you just look back at Myles, who already has the plate of chips in his hand
>That was quick
"I fucking hate you, Gilda."
>"The resentment is mutual."
>"You two said somethin'?"
>Apparently, Myles had already walked into hearing distance
>You shake your head, and Gilda doesn't say a thing
>He shrugs it off, walking past Gilda and sitting on the armrest next to her again
>Gilda swipes the plate of chips from him, digging in
>Again
>Catpig
>Crossing his legs, Myles rests his hands on his knee
>You'd question this if you didn't already know that he's prone to feminine characteristics at times
>"Alright, Gilda, you comfy?"
>She looks up at him from her plate, nodding
>Then, she digs right back in
>Was she not just fucking fed? Jesus fucking Christ
>"Alrighty then! Lets start off with something simple--age. How old are you?"
>You and Myles are both twenty-six--only a day separating the both of you
>Funny, how both of you are also Geminis
>Some might say you two were destined to meet from the day you two were born
>You say that they're retarded and that all of this was of pure coincidence
>Gilda swallows the current wad of chewed chips in her mouth
>"Seventeen."
>She answers the question quickly, presumably so she can go back to stuffing her fa--what
>She's lying, right?
>There's no way she's /actually/ seventeen years old
>Myles shares the same shock you have, raising a brow at the answer
>Gilda eventually notices this and rolls her eyes, swallowing another handful of chips
>"Oh come on. That's only in griffon years! I'm sure I'm like, thirty-eight or whatever in your human years."
>"Ahem... Yeah, right."
>It takes him a bit before he thinks of another question
>"Okay, next question. How was the pet shop we got you at? It seemed like a shady place when we got there."
>For a split second you could've sworn you saw an inch of worry hit her face
>But, if it was there, it was only there shortly, as a more confident look took over
>"It was fine."
>It was silent for a moment, before Myles spoke up again
>"That's it? It was just... "fine"?"
>She only nodded
>Honestly, you expected her to say something more about the place
>She was wrapped up in restraints, after all
>"Okay then... Next quest--"
>"Listen, are all your questions gonna be boring like this? Because if they are, I can just sleep until noon."
>She eats some more chips
>Myles sighs, nodding
>"Alright then. I'll up the ante with this one."
>He pauses
>"I was planning to ease into this one, as it's a bit more personal, but since you're asking for it--"
>"Just ask the damn question already."
>Myles nods, sighing
>"Alright."
>He pauses again, probably to get ready for the response to this question
>"Do you miss your parents?"
>And just like that, she was frozen
>Much like you were, earlier
>The chips she had in her claw just fell back onto the plate, as she immediately looks to the floor
>You sigh
>Well, at least you two know that this is a touchy subject for her now
>He recoils at her depressed reaction almost immediately, shifting down to the couch to sit next to her
>He puts an arm around her and speaks to her softly, most likely in an attempt to comfort her
>This annoys you, for some reason
>"Wait, Gilda, I'm sorry. I didn't--"
>"No."
>Huh?
>Wait, did she just speak?
>She turns to look at him again
>"I don't miss 'em at all."
>Yes, yes she did
>That was...
>Unexpected
>You thought she was gonna stay silent, like she did when you two first got her
>Then she'd talk about it later
>Later being like, tomorrow, or something
>But no
>Your theory was crushed almost immediately
>She sighs, getting off the couch
>"I'm done answering these stupid questions--I'm doing something else."
>Her plate is empty
>What the fuck
>As Myles puts her plate on the living room table, he looks at her walk towards the kitchen with concern
>"I'm sorry."
>She stops, turning her head to look back at him
>"Sorry for what?"
>"The questions. I didn't mean for you to react like this."
>She simply scoffs
>"Really, that's what you're sorry for? T-Those questions weren't anything--I just don't feel like answering anymore if they're all gonna be like that."
"Like what?"
>You don't know why
>But you felt compelled to ask her that
>"Simple and boring. I'd rather not get asked another fifty of those, like I'm in some sort of boring interview."
>"Well," he pipes up again, "I'm just trying to get to know you. The guy who sold you to us didn't tell us much about you except for the fact that you're prone to violence."
>"Prone to violence?"
>She does a little laugh before continuing on
>"Ha! That stupid fucker has no idea what the hell he's talking about--I'm not "prone to violence"."
"I'd beg to differ," you mutter
>"What was that?"
>She turns to you, brows furrowed
>You look at her, resting your arms on the armrest nearest to her
"You heard me, Catbird. You seem like a pretty violent kitty, to me."
>She growls
"See? What kind of peaceful animal does that?"
>"Never said I was peaceful."
"But you just said that you're not prone to violence--doesn't that mean peaceful?"
>"No," she walks up to you, jumping off the ground to float in the air
>She does this so she can talk to you while staring you down
>"It just means that I'm not gonna claw your fucking face off for getting me angry. Kinda like now."
>You scoff, turning away from her
"That sounded pretty violent if you ask me."
>She grabs the collar to your shirt, as you smirk
>"I can GET pretty fuckin' violent, if you want me to. And by the look of it, it sounds like you fuckin' do!"
>Chuckling, you put a hand on her arm
"Try me, catbitch."
>You swear if Myles hadn't dashed in between you two at the right time, you'd be on the floor
>"Ladies!"
>He quickly removes Gilda from you, sighing
>"Please," he looks at you, "Chill," and then he looks at catbird, "Calm down. We're all family here--"
>"My only family is you, Myles"
>He looks at you again, and you just roll your eyes
"I feel the same way Gilda feels, "mah dude"."
>She's growling again
>Somebody call animal control
>He sighs
>"Well, we all live in the same house--we have to at least TRY to get along."
>He looks up at the flying bird and gives her a nice warm smile
>"If me and Claire can get along perfectly, then I'm sure it's possible that you and her can get along, as well."
>It could happen
>You don't foresee it happening, but it could very well happen--wait
>What the hell's he trying to say about you?
>A moment of silence passes
>Gilda flys off towards the kitchen, for whatever reason
>While you just sigh, looking away from him
>He falls back, the couch comforting his landing
>After a while, you start to search for the T.V. remote
>You'll need something to pass the time
>"I'm sure if you two went for a walk, you'd actually get along..."
>Huh?
>Your attention is brought to Myles with a brow raised
>Gilda is no different--she turned around to face him
"A walk?"
>Gilda questions it as well as she flies back to him
>Honestly, you don't even know why she's doing that
>She most likely hates the idea of a walk as much as you do
>There's no way she'd actually agree to that
>Myles turns to his favorite pet, nodding
>"Yeah, a walk. Just a simple little walk--doesn't even have to be that long."
>As she flutters to the floor, she tilts her head to the side
>"Well, what's in it for me?"
>"Well, while you two are out, I'll get started on lunc--"
>As soon as his sentence ended, Gilda dashed to the door as if she were the roadrunner
>And, being the annoying cunt she is--
>"Come on, cunt-face! I'm not gonna wait all day for your ass!"
>...She rushes you
>Again, you hate her
>So much
>You don't move, however
>You're not persuaded by the idea of food like a stupid starving cat--you've got enough weight on you as is
>Myles takes notice of this, tilting his head to the side
>Huh
>That's a quirk you haven't seen him do in awhile
>"Aren't you going?"
>You just shake your head, crossing your arms
>He sighs
>"Really? Why the hell not?"
"You know exactly why I'm not going, fucker."
>At this, he just smiles
>You kind of wish he didn't
>"Oh come on. Are you saying you really can't handle Gilda for a little over thirty minutes?"
"I can barely take her for /a/ minute--what makes you think I can suffer her for more that?"
>"Because you've dealt with much, much worse before."
>He's lying through his teeth
>...
>No he's not
>You wish he was
>But, again, he /is/ right about that
>All throughout high school, you've had to deal with cunts a lot crustier than this one
>And even a little bit after high school life, too
>While, Gilda is nothing you can't handle
>That doesn't mean you /want/ to handle her
>From what you've noticed already from the stupid catbird, she's an annoying little shit that's hiding a lot more than she really should
>Plus she's not a pony
>You bet a pony wouldn't act this annoying, even if they could talk
>They'd be nice to you
>They'd hug you, be a companion like no other
>Maybe you'd even have playful moments like Gilda and Myles did earlier
>But no
>Everything else just had to be expensive as hell
"Name one time."
>Despite the fact that you already know that he's right, you decide to challenge him
>Bastard couldn't possibly name an exact time--
>"Maya."
"Fuck you."
>He chuckles at this, putting his arm around you
>"Maya?"
>Huh?
>Oh
>You forgot Gilda was even here
>You'll just ignore her, for now
>"From what you've told me, Claire, Maya was a lot worse than Gilda is."
>His caring smile makes you--involuntarily--smile
>Which causes you to look away from him
>You hate it when you smile like this
>"Spending an hour or two with Gilda isn't gonna kill you, Claire. You know it isn't."
"Or two?"
>"Or three, shit, it doesn't matter."
>You giggled at that
>Fucking hell, why did you giggle at that?
>"Point is, you two need to be fast friends. Like I said, we're all family here, and that's not gonna change any time soon. Not on my account, anyway."
>You finally decide it's time to look at him
>Before you do, however, you take a quick sigh
>But when you do look at him, the two of you share the same kind of smile
>You don't even know how to describe it
>The only word you actually /can/ describe with is...
>Well...
>Genuine
>And, after a moment's passing, both of you are chuckling like mad
>You don't even know /why/ you're laughing like this
>You just are
>Fuck
>The two of you laugh, chuckle, then giggle for a moment or
>But, eventually, it dies down
>And, audibly, Gilda groans
>You can't help but sigh
>Again, ignoring
>You stand, smirking at your friend
"Fine, fine. I'll take her out for a bit."
>"Thank you."
>He stands with you, ready to get back into the kitchen
"We'll be back before nine fifteen," you assure him before walking away
>His eyes quickly move from the cable box's clock, then back to you
>"But it's nine fourteen."
>All you do is chuckle some more
>And you hear him chuckle as well
>You reach the front door, actually smiling at Gilda, for once
"C'mon, you little shit. We've got time to kill until your precious food'll be done."
>The two of you walk out of the front door, but not before Gilda raises a brow
>"You wouldn't happen to have a leash and collar on you, would you?"
>...
>Excuse you, what?
>You simply glare at her
>She gives you a glare of her own, although her's seems to be more confused than not
>"What?"
>You can't help but sigh, walking forward
>The bird decides to fly besides you, for whatever reason
>This is gonna be a really long walk, isn't it?


>"Just hang on to them, we're gonna need them."
"No, we're not. For as much as I want you to be one, Gilda, you're not a fucking dog."
>"Listen, if you have to trust me on anything, trust me on this. I know we're gonna need them."
>You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose
"Fine, fine. Just come on, already."
>Pushing the collar in one pocket, and the leash in another, you walk forward
>Gilda follows, still flying beside you
>You two just spent the last thirty fucking minutes arguing over whether or not you should take her stupid BDSM shit with you
>Eventually, however, you let her win
>Not because you'd rather be safe than sorry
>But because you were just getting tired of arguing
>Fuck
>You know you're right, but apparently that doesn't change a damn thing for her
>She just has to be a stubborn little shit about it
>...
>Why does that sound so familiar?
>"Hello, Earth to human?"
>Huh?
>Oh, Gilda's talking to you
>Turning to her, you raise a brow
"Huh?"
>"Did you even hear a word I said?"
>Yes, of course you did
>Every single word
"Not at all."
>You're incapable of lying sometimes
>...Did her eye twitch again?
>"Well, never-fucking-mind, then, if you're not even gonna listen!"
"What did you say?"
>"No, no, it's fine, really. I'll just shut my fucking beak. I mean, I'm just trying to actually follow Master's orders, is all. Nothing fucking important."
>You'll just ignore that little slip-up of her's
"Just tell me, you fucking cunt," you slip your hands in your pockets, taking note that you actually brought money with you, "This trip's gonna go a whole lot slower if we're not gonna bother talking to each other."
>The bird sighs, crossing her arms
>"Fine. I just asked you who this 'Maya' chick is--"
"'Maya'?"
>"Is that not how it's said?"
"No, it's not--you literally heard us say it earlier. It's 'Maya'."
>"But that's what I--"
>She rolls her eyes
>"Fine, whatever. I just asked you who this 'MAYA' chick is."
"Thank you."
>As you two continue to travel, Gilda looks at you, expectantly
>And eventually, she speaks up again
>"So?"
"So, what?"
>"Maya. What'd she do to you?"
>Now, you're groaning
"Why do you care?"
>"You said she was worse than me."
"Yeah, and?"
>"I wanna know /how/ much worse she was."
"Why? You wanna get some pointers from her on annoying me or something?"
>"No, I just want to know, asshole. Especially when you're describing her as worse than me."
"Well, just know that she is--that's all I'm gonna tell you--"
>"Why?"
>Sighing, you look at the sky
"Maybe I just don't wanna talk about her--is that so hard to believe?"
>"No, but you said it yourself--it's gonna make for a long ass trip if you don't start yapping like no tomorrow."
>Normally, you'd combat this
>...But, sadly, this little shit actually has a point
>A point that you made earlier
>But a point none the less
>...
>Maybe you should talk about her
>Just for a moment or two--nothing drastic
>It couldn't possibly hurt, right?
>Sighing, you begin to speak
"Fine, fine. But I'm not gonna enjoy it."
>"Never said you had to enjoy it."
>Rolling your eyes, you start off at nowhere else but the beginning
"We weren't lying earlier, either--she /is/ worse than you, tenfold. Although, I think that's just because I knew her longer than I do you. Her effect was amplified over the years."
>"Well, when'd you first meet her?"
"High school, freshman year."

>JESUS
>DODGE BALL CAN GO DIE IN HELL
>Panting, you drop to your knees
>You need a fucking breather...
>You just narrowly avoided another dodge ball thrown at you
>This one was thrown at your face, no less
>Which would be all fine and dandy--you're used to dodging stupid shit
>...If, of course, you weren't the only one left on the team
>Adjusting your glasses, you stand
>You're tired
>You hate this
>Why the hell does your team suck donkey dick?
>You take a quick glance to the "out" section of the gym
>Oh right
>Today's game was 20/20 versus four-eyes
>Which doesn't actually make much sense
>Not everybody who doesn't wear glasses has perfect eyesight
>Some people just can't afford good glasse--FUCK
>THAT WAS DEFINITELY AIMED AT YOUR FUCKING HEAD
>Another one just barely missed you
>Thank God
>Although that just tells you that their aim is getting better
>...
>You should probably start throwing some of these balls back at them
>As you turn around to fetch a ball, another one comes soaring at you
>Once again, it barely misses you
>What the fuck is with you and these balls today?
>These guys can't hit for shit
>Picking up the ball, you turn to face the crowd
>Three of 'em still have balls
>The other twenty are just fodder
>This is a lost fucking cause
>You're tired
>You hate this
>You're gonna lose--the fact that most of the balls are on your side means nothing at this point
>Taking a deep breath in, you sigh
>Better make this one ball count
>You rush up to the mid-line, and with one quick movement of your arm, you toss the ball with an immense force that could shatter fucking brick walls!
>...
>No, you merely wish you did that
>What you DID do, however, is throw like a girl
>The ball just bounced onto the other side, lazily
>And after this event happened, you ran the fuck away
>And unluckily enough, a ball thrown by the other side managed to hit your ass, making you the last on your team to be out
>"HA! TAKE THAT, FOUR-EYES!"
>You swear if you had a gun this entire school would be gone

>"What the hell does any of this have to do with Maya?"
"Would you relax? I'm getting to that."
>"Sounds like you're taking your sweet ass time getting to it."
>You groan
"Fine, then. I'll just skip ahead

>You close your gym locker, sighing
>God, do you hate gym
>It hasn't even been a week of school, and you already hate everything about it
>Adjusting your glasses once more, you grab your book bag and start to speed walk out of the locker room
>"Hey, wait!"
>Keep walking, Claire, they're not talking to you
>"Four-eyes, wait up!"
>Keep walking
>You hear rapid footsteps behind you, getting closer and closer
>And all you try to do is walk away from them
>Sadly, this was simply futile
>A hand lays itself on your shoulder, causing you to look back at whoever the hell this was
>Some white redhead with brown eyes
>As much as you don't want to believe it, this gal was obviously the one who called out to you
>...And most likely the one who called you "Four-eyes" during gym
>Good, you hate her already
>She pants a bit before speaking with that pretty smile of her's
>"Jeez, girl! Can you hear, or what? I swear I was callin' ya for hours!"
>Your ears are perfectly fine
>Turning around fully, your raise a brow at her
"What do you want?"
>"Heh, aren't you a pissy one? Did your Mom eat your cereal today or something?"
>You don't eat breakfast
"I won't ask this again--what the hell do you want?"
>Giggling, she continues
>"Oh, I just wanted to congratulate you today on today's dodge ball game--I ain't never seen anybody with agility like you!"
>Agility?
>Is she fucking insane?
>You got lucky about a million times--that's it
"And?"
>"You also lasted longer than anybody else by yourself. I mean, dude, did you even see yourself out there?"
"If I could, then I'd be omnipotent."
>She raises a brow of her own at your dryness, still smiling
"Anybody could've done what I did out there--the fact that /I/ did it means nothing."
>Turning around, you walk away from her
>But, she's in front of you before you know it
>More reasons to put her as number one the "To Kill" list
>"Oh come on--you and I both know that's bullshit! What you did was fucking awesome--"
"About as awesome as water."
>You walk around her--nope
>She's in front of you again
>"Listen--I like you, four-eyes. You seem pretty fuckin' cool, with moves like that."
>She puts out her hand, most likely for you to shake
>"I'm Maya!"
>What?
"You mean 'Maya', right?"
>"No, no. Not 'Maya', 'MAYA'!"
>...
>What?
>But you--...
>Oh, whatever
>Reluctantly, you shake her hand
"Claire."

>"...And you hate her for that?"
>You roll your eyes
"No. What do you take me for?"
>"An idiot."
"Says the bird brain."
>"Says the monkey. You want a banana?"
"Like you're any better--polly wanna cracker? Or maybe some worms'll be more nutritional."
>Besides for her growling, silenced welcomed you two for a moment before you decided to speak again
"If I hated her for that, then I'd be a fucking asshole. Do you not realize how nice she was to me?"
>"That's why I was asking."
>Looking at the sky, you continue
"Honestly, in the beginning, she was a nice friend--my only friend, in fact. She tried to introduce me to the pack of friends she had, but I didn't exactly fit in."
>"How?"
"I... don't really know how to explain it."
>Putting a hand to your chin, you think about Maya's friends
>Although, you don't remember much about them
>Except for their snottiness, maybe
>Even then, they weren't that bad
>You guess...
"They were just too "girl-y", if that makes any sense."
>"Girly?"
>That caught her attention
"Yeah. Sorry if that's not really--"
>"No, no! I get what you mean. I've met "girly" girls before."
>Smirking, you look at her curiously
"Really? I didn't know you knew people."
>She frowns
>"Fuck off."
>The smirk fades, but your curiosity stays
"Was it one of your previous owners, or somethin'?"
>"Aren't you telling a story?"
>How defensive
>The smirk comes back as you stretch
"Right, right. Maya."
>You take a moment to think about where you were
>That question you asked actually sidetracked you a lot more than you wanted to be
>Where were you?
>Uh...
>Oh yeah!
"Yeah, they were girly. I couldn't seem to attach myself to 'em as well as Maya did. Me and Maya stayed friends and all, I just didn't join her group of friends."
>Gilda nods
"And, over the years, I really grew to like Maya. She was a good friend."
>"Then what the fuck happened? Why the hell is she considered to be so much more worse than me?"
>You frown
"Let's just say the last two years weren't as pleasant as the first."
>You pause once more, thinking of a way to say this
"Well... Have you ever had a falling out with a friend before," she nodded, "And then proceeded to hate that friend for the rest of your life?"
>She nods again
"That's what it was with me and Maya. I don't know what happened to her over the summer of Sophomore year, but when we came back as Juniors... she fuckin' changed."
>You sigh
"I honestly think she started to hate me, before I really started to hate her. Come Junior year, she was really into "play fighting" a lot more than before. Which never turned out good for me."
>Remembering all those "accidental" black eyes makes you cringe
>And it makes you rub your eye
>Specifically the right one
"And it all just got worse in Senior year. More punches, more pushing, more things being thrown at me."
>"Things like what?"
"Food, typically."
>Gilda giggles
>Your voice lowers to a growl
"It's not funny."
>"Oh come on, dude. It's at least kinda funny."
"You know, Gilda, I wonder how you'd like that. Everyday at lunch, you get something thrown at you that stains your clothes, whether it be crumbs of a cookie, or the sauce from a steak."
>"I don't wear clothes."
"If you did."
>"But I don't--it's not my fault you humans think it's normal to wear clothes all the time."
"Then imagine it getting stuck in your feathers, or your fur. You wouldn't like that, now would you?"
>The griffon ponders on that for a moment
>Then, she responds
>"I'd probably sock 'em in the jaw."
>For some reason, you smile at that
"Then you'll understand why I finally broke it off with her."

>You sigh
>Two more weeks, Claire
>Two more weeks
>You can live that long, right?
>Then you won't have to deal with that fucking cunt anymore
>Taking your lunch tray from the lunch lady, you mosey your way on over to your lunch table
>Where you sit right across from Maya
>Fuck everything
>As you sit, you shut your eyes tight
>She's gonna hit you again
>She does this every day at lunch
>OW!
>On fucking cue, she punches your arm
>Hard
>Her punches just get harder and harder every day
>"Hey, there's my four-eyes! What's up, dude?"
>The sky
>Your urge to kill
>Simple things
"Nothing much, May. What about yourself?"
>"Not much, dude. Although, I think Ms. Eisenhower has it out for me."
"The math teacher?"
>"Yup!"
"You don't even have her class."
>"Yeah, but, every time I walk by her she just fucking /stares/ at me."
"What did you do?"
>"Nothing! Honest to God, dude! She just /stares/ at me. Like I'm some sort of criminal or somethin'."
>Ms. Eisenhower might have the right idea, then
>You look down at your plate
>Hamburger and fries
>You lift the top bun of the burger, raising a brow
>Yup
>Just like you thought
>Fucking pickles
>You fucking hate pickles with a passion
>Looking up at Maya, you ask her a question
>Dryly
"You want these pickle slices?"
>"Yeah, sure, I'll take 'em."
>Picking up the pickles, you hand them to her
>And not a second later, the pickles are right back in your face
>Well, on your face
>As you sigh, you hear her laugh
>Laugh like a God damn mad man
"It's not funny."
>"Pfft, yeah it is! You should see the look on your face--it's priceless!"
>You stand, smashing your hands on the table
"What the fuck is your problem, Maya?"
>She looks at you, clueless
>"What do you mean?"
"You know EXACTLY what I mean, asshole. This is the umpteenth time you've thrown your disgusting fucking food at me--"
>"Oh, come on, Claire. It's just a joke--"
"A FUCKING JOKE!?"
>You fucking exploded, slamming your hands on the table again
"So I guess my entire fucking existence is literally just a joke to you, then?!"
>"What? What are you talking abou--"
"Don't try to fucking act retarded! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Every day--every single fucking day you throw shit at me. Every day you hit me like I'm a slave. Every fucking day is nonstop with you!"
>She doesn't respond this time
"And you know what I've been doing for the past TWO YEARS putting up with this shit? I've said nothing, done nothing--I've just let you play your stupid fucking games and let you hurt me. Although, looking back on it, I don't even know WHY I did that!"
>Now she decides to stand, crossing her arms
>"The hell are you getting at, Claire?"
"I'M FUCKING SICK OF YOU, MAYA! I'M SICK OF YOUR FUCKING BULLSHIT THAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH!"
>As your balled your fists, your nostrils flared
>"I--Well... FINE THEN! A-And if we're being honest here, I think you look like putrid dog shit!"
"You look like the dead bird that the cat dragged in!"
>"You look like a whore!"
"And you don't, slut?"
>She growled, her hands clenching the table
>"You... You... YOU LOOK LIKE YOUR MOTHER!"

"I honestly think I blacked out after that. But the next day, I was suspended for the rest of the year for starting a fight. I asked a bunch of Maya's friends what happened, and they all said I knocked her the fuck out."
>"Dude, that's fucking awesome."
"No, not awesome. I had to repeat senior year for that shit. And instead of being a social outcast, I was fucking feared by all the underclassmen. It was fucking terrible."
>You two end up at a park
>...You have no idea /how/, but you're not gonna complain
>Taking a seat on a park bench you cross your legs
>Gilda follows suit--she even crosses her legs like you
>Yeah, she's not sitting like a dog this time
>She's sitting like a damn human
>And it's kinda weird
>You didn't think she could do that
"Anyway, after that, I never saw her again. And, incidentally, I'm pretty sure that's what made me become a pacifist."
>"You're a pacifist?"
"Well, I'm definitely not an MMA fighter, I can tell you that much."
>The griffon giggled at that comment, making you smile
>"I'm not gonna lie, dude, I had something similar happen to me."
>You raise a brow
"Really?"
>"Yeah. I--..."
>She stops to sigh
>"I used to have a friend, way back when. I knew her for all of my life, basically. But, when I decided to visit her again... things changed. She was still herself, but..."
"It just wasn't the same?"
>She nods
>"And then, she even had this stupid friend of hers, getting in our way. And she had the fucking NERVE to actually "throw a party" for me."
"Your friend, or her friend?"
>She growls
>"HER friend."
>By the looks of it, it seems like her anger is getting the best of her
>Not that she has a "best" part of her to speak of, but still
>"It was a fuckin' set up, dude! Everything I tried at that stupid fucking party was a fucking prank made by her and her stupid fucking friend. I--I couldn't fucking take it! That she would leave me for her, that fucking dweeb of a pony--"
>"GET THE FUCK OFF THE BENCH!"
>What?
>Who the hell was that?
>You and Gilda look at each other
>You two share the same expression--shock
>Shock and fear
>Although, you're probably more fearful than she is
>You two jump off the bench--
>"No, no! Not YOU!"
>What?
>You look down at Gilda
>All she can do is shrug at you
>Out of seemingly nowhere, some guy with a fedora on--or is that a trilby?--walks up to you and Gilda
>He seems kinda overweight, too, by the looks of it
>The griffon then begins to float, so that she can be eye-level with this guy
>She already seems annoyed
>Although you're not sure if that's from him, or her story
>Mr. Trilby points at her, frowning furiously
>"YOU!"
>Questioningly, with a hint of snark in her voice, Gilda points to herself
>"Me?"
>"I'm not talking to the fucking tree, am I?"
>"I dunno, you look like the typ--"
"GILDA!"
>He just chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets
>As Gilda fell to the floor, you couldn't help but glare at him
>You glared in disbelief
>And you glared in anger
>How DARE he
>How fucking DARE he!
>How fucking DARE he put his hands on her like that?!
>"Don't talk back to your superiors, slave."
>Slave?
>Oh hell no
>As you crack your knuckles, you walk up to this living shit stain
"Dude! What the fuck is wrong with you?"
>He turns to you, smiling
>"Oh! Hello there, m'lady," he tips his trilby to you, "Pardon me for a moment. I'm just showing this bitch her place."
>You grab him by the collar of his shirt
"Insult her one more fucking time, jackass, and see what happens."
>"Oh, is that one yours?"
"She's sure as hell not yours, I can fucking tell you that much."
>"Then you'll thank me! It seems disrespectful--you really should train your slave better."
>Next time he says slave, you're breaking him
"I'll give you five seconds to take everything you said about her back before I send you to the hospital."
>"I'm going to assume that it is yours, then. I really do feel like she's a disrespectful one, Ma'am--
"Five."
>"If you need me to train her for you for a couple days--"
"Four."
>"Then I can definitely do that! It would not be a problem--you don't even have to pay me--"
"Three."
>"And besides, I doubt that your weak woman hands could do anything to me--I mean, reall--"
"TWO--"
>"Claire!"
>You and the shit stain turn your heads to the griffon laying on the floor
>She's getting up now, with a smirk
>She's standing like that son of a bitch never touched her
>Impressive
>"Calm down, dude. I got this prick."
"Somehow, I doubt that."
>"Fuck off. I hit harder than I look."
>"Ma'am, you aren't really going to let your slave try to beat me up, are you?"
>If Gilda didn't say that she had this, he'd be on the floor by now
>Letting go of his collar, you cross your arms
>"What do you mean 'try'?"
>...
>You think she's growing on you
"And besides--I'm a pacifist. I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to."
>Keep telling yourself that, Claire
>One day, you're gonna break somebody's jaw if you're angry enough
>Shit, it happened with Maya
>...Probably
>The faggot speaks again, with this very smug smirk on his face
>...Kind of reminds you of Myles
>Except this faggot's smugness somehow makes you more enraged than Myles' ever could
>God, if you could punch him...
>"I'm fairly certain that this bitch couldn't harm me at all, ma'am--in fact, I'm sure that she'll be hurt more that I would--FUCK!"
>Well, seems like Gilda did it for you
>By sucker-punching this fat fuck in the gut
>The shit stain collapses to the floor, coughing furiously
>Is it bad that you're laughing?
>He holds onto his gigantic stomach for dear life
>As if it was his only child
>Gilda floats over him, smirking
>"What was that about not being able to harm you?"
>"L-... Lucky s-shot."
>"Then I guess this shot's even luckier."
>OW
>Sheesh
>For fuck's sake, you don't even have balls and you're cringing at that nut-shot she made
>You think he's crying now
>Heh
>You almost wish you felt sorry for him
>...
>No you don't
>Fucking bastard deserves it, after insulting her like that
>Calling her a slave
>Fuck him
>You walk over to Gilda, smirking
"Nice one, dude."
>"Thanks, dude. I had to show that loser what for."
>You snicker as the griffon floats over his body
>Once again, you chuckle at him
>He's lying on the ground, writhing in pain
>And you have no regrets
>You can only assume that Gilda doesn't have any, either
>As you two get away from the crime scene, you can't help but think back to what that faggot called Gilda
>A "slave"
>A slave for what?
>Cooking food?
>Ha, yeah, right
"Slave," you chuckle out
>The catbird looks at you curiously, stuttering out her words
>"H-Huh?"
>Er, word
"That guy. He really called you a 'slave', the dumbass. That'd be fuckin' stupid."
>"Hahaha... Y-Yeah, stupid."
>Huh?
>You look at Gilda, raising a brow
"Something wrong, Gilda?"
>"What? Pfft, no. Nothing's wrong with me, Claire. I'm perfectly fine."
"You sure?"
>"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine--"
>"I'm FINE, fuck off."
>Sheesh
>You roll your eyes
"Fine, then. Excuse me for being friendly."
>Sarcastically, she chuckles before responding sharply
>"Friendly? You call that 'friendly'?"
>You stop walking to turn to her, your arms crossed
"It's sure as hell a lot more friendly than YOU'VE been, I can tell you that much."
>She does the same--turning to you and crossing her arms
>"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not the one who threw fucking food at you like you're a fucking dog!"
"It's not my fucking fault that SOMEBODY isn't as trained as they should be. Maybe I should take up that guy's offer--"
>"You wouldn't DARE!"
"Oh, wouldn't I? Coming from the cunt who impersonated me, for fuck's sake? I mean, obviously, you should know EXACTLY what I'm going to do even before I do it, right?"
>She takes a moment to growl before she snarls at you, her voice becoming more tense as she speaks
>"W-What the hell else was I supposed to do? You were gonna tell him that I can talk!"
"And yet, you talked anyway--"
>"ONLY BECAUSE YOU FORCED ME TO!"
"I didn't force you to do ANYTHING! You brought that upon your fucking self!"
>Your nails are digging into the palms of your hands at this point
>And, by the looks of it, her claws are doing the same to her
>"Yeah, because YOU started it! I wouldn't have had to talk so fucking fast if you didn't fuck with me in the first fucking place!"
"Why the hell are you being so fucking secretive, anyway?! You don't want to talk, you don't want to tell us about you--what the hell is wrong with you?!"
>"MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE A FUCKING SLAVE AGAIN, HAS THAT EVER PASSED YOUR STUPID MONKEY MIND?!"
"WH--..."
>Wait...
>What?
>Suddenly, you become a lot less tense than you were
>However, Gilda looks like she isn't losing her anger any time soon
"Gilda?"
>As if you were Myles, you speak softly to her
>She turns away from you, her claws still balled
>As you attempt to get closer, your voice becomes more comforting
>At least, you hope it is
"I... I didn't realize that--"
>A gust of wind blows your hair in front of your face, blocking your view
>And, when move your hair out of the way, you notice that she's gone
>Looking up in the sky, you see her gaining altitude
>She's quickly getting smaller and smaller
>But eventually, she stops once she's high enough
>And then, she blasts off into the city, back the way you came
>Thank God
>But, the thing is...
>She doesn't know where she's going
>But she doesn't know where she's going...
>For a moment, you stare at her fly in shock
>Then, you force yourself to bolt off after her
>You don't know how you're gonna catch her--or if you're even gonna catch her
>But you're not gonna go home without her
>Not only would Myles be mad at you
>But...
>...
>Never mind
>You just have to focus on catching her--or at least, following her
>Simple enough, right?
>God, you hope you're not wrong

>Gilda grabs Claire's shirt collar, floating in the air with a mean scowl
>"I can GET pretty fuckin' violent, if you want me to, and it sounds like you fuckin' do!"
>Why is Claire chuckling?
>Wasn't she supposed to be afraid of her?
>"Try it, catbird."
>Gilda growls
>Oh no
>This isn't gonna go well
>Panicking, you step in between the two, removing Gilda from Claire's personal space
>They were way too close for comfort
>You're not about to let them fight each other, hell no
>That'd be a catfight you wouldn't want to see
>...Also, Claire's a lot stronger than she lets on
>That, coupled with Gilda's claws, would make for a very scary fight
"Ladies!"
>You turn to Claire, trying to look as sincere as possible
"Chill."
>Then, you turn to Gilda, smiling warmly
"Calm down, please. Aren't we all family here--"
>Gilda thinks otherwise
>"My only family is you, Ma-Myles."
>Fuck
>Full of hope, you look to Claire
>She's gotta be reasonable, rig--
>"I feel the same way Gilda feels, 'mah dude'."
>You hold Gilda back while she growls
>Because if you didn't, you're sure she'd fucking maul Claire
>You sigh
>They're never gonna tolerate each other, are they?
"Nobody's moving out anytime soon, guys--we have to at least TRY to get along."
>Looking to Gilda specifically, you give her that warm smile you did earlier
"You know, if me and Claire can get along perfectly, then I'm sure it's possible for you and her to get along, as well."
>Although you don't show it, you immediately regret saying that
>Because you feel like something's burning behind you
>Metaphorically burning, to be specific
>But you swear you can still feel the heat
>As Gilda rolls her eyes, she turns around, floating away
>And Claire is no different
>Except for the whole floating thing
>She can't do that
>Feeling stuck, you sigh
>There's gotta be something you can do, right?
>Something to make them like each other
>Or at LEAST tolerate each other
>If they spent some time together, maybe
>But how?
>They hate each other--they'd kill each other before long
>You put a hand on your chin, falling onto the couch with a loud "pomf!"
>Casually, you think aloud
"I'm sure if you two went for a walk, you'd actually get along..."
>"A walk," they curiously repeat, turning to face you
>Gilda floats back over to you, while Claire just raises a brow
>Realizing that you said that aloud, you begin to sigh--wait
>Why are you sighing?
>They actually seemed interested in this idea
>Well, Gilda does
>Claire, however...
>Well, she seems disinterested, is all
>Although, you can't find this surprising in the slightest
>This is Claire, after all
>Possibly one of the laziest people you've known thus far
>In fact, you're sure if you didn't whip her into your schedule, she'd be no bigger than a common landwhale
>Or no better than a common fedora-prancing neckbeard
>You've gotta wonder how she even keeps her frame without working out or something
>She absolutely refuses to do anything exercise related with you that's not just walking around town
>Girl's a stubborn one, for sure
>Continuing, you smile at Gilda
"Yeah, a walk. Just a simple little walk--doesn't even have to be that long."
>She puts a claw to her chin, slowly landing on the floor
>"Well, what's in it for me?"
>...
>Shit
>You didn't think this far ahead
>Actually, wait
>Your eyes dart towards the empty plate on the living room table, then back to Gilda
"Well, while you two are out, I'll get started on lun--"
>Your hair is frizzy now
>Damn it, Gilda
>Turning around, you look at the door, noticing the griffon already impatiently waiting there
>She's also tapping a claw on the floor
>You can't help but smile at thi--
>"Come on, cunt-face! I ain't gonna wait all day for your ass!"
>Did you say smiling?
>You meant frowning
>You're frowning now
>Soon, your attention is brought to Claire
>Who doesn't seen too enthralled by this idea--as previously mentioned
>So, you tilt your head at her
"Aren't you going?"
>She shakes her head
>Fucking hell, Claire
>Sighing, you scooch over to her
"Really? Why the hell not?"
>"You know exactly why I'm not going, fucker."
>You grin
>Oh, Claire
>Always so defensive, huh?
"Oh come on. Are you saying you really can't handle Gilda for a little over thirty minutes?"
>"I can barely handle her for /a/ minute--what the fuck makes you think I can suffer her for more than that?!"
>She's so quick to respond
>You swear, she's almost cutting you off every time you speak
>Although, you've got a trump card
"Because you've dealt with much, much worse before."
>The hot-headed gal just sighs, then looks at the floor
>She's only doing this because she knows you're right
>And you know you're right
>If you weren't, her response would've been a lot quicker than this
>While she's busy thinking up of her two cents, you can't but notice her
>Gilda
>She looks... shocked
>Shocked and confused
>This makes you wonder
>Is she really surprised that there were assholes before her—well
>Okay, Gilda's not an asshole
>She's just...
>Well, she needs to break out of her shell, is all
>Honestly, you're one-hundred percent sure that if Claire didn't have to deal with people like Gilda, then she wouldn't be the Claire you know today
>You mean, from what you understand, she's only like this because it was the only way to combat those fuckers
>After a couple more moments, Claire looks at you again, grimacing
>"Name one time."
"Maya."
>"Fuck you."
>You were as snappy as she was earlier with your answer
>Honestly, Maya Descant is probably the easiest choice out of all the dicks she's known throughout her life
>Although, Clarissa White and Max May are also some notable ones
>Elementary and Middle school chucklefucks, respectively
>Chuckling you--
>"Maya?"
>Huh?
>Your head turns to Gilda for a moment
>She definitely looks confused, now
>You're assuming Claire'll explain that to her later.
>Well, okay
>You hope that she explains it to her
>There's no chance that she'd actually be willing to explain that shit
>Your smile comes back as you look at Claire again
"From what you've told me, Claire, Maya was a LOT worse than Gilda is."
>Now she looks away, blushing
>Or, at least, you think she's blushing
>She blushes a lot without realizing it
>It's cute, really
>A "puppy dog" kind of cute
>The kind of cute you want to take care of
"Spending an hour or two with Gilda isn't gonna kill you. You know it isn't."
>Suddenly, she looks at you, confusion written all over her
>"Or two?"
"Or three, shit, it doesn't matter."
>She giggles at your joke
>You begin to speak with earnest, putting a hand on her shoulder
"Point is, you two need to be fast friends. Like I said, we're all family here, and that's not gonna change anytime soon. Not on my account, anyway."
>She sighs, a smile showing itself
>A lovely smile, that you wish she would show more
>She only manages to do this when you're like this
>And with that smile, you swear to the heavens she looks absolutely beautiful
>Her heavenly hair shines like no other
>Her green eyes show the compassion she hates to show
>And her smile tells you a million things
>A million lovely things
>...
>Eventually, you laugh
>She follows suit, laughing like a hyena
>Eh, retract that whole "lovely" thing you were talking about
>After a moment's notice, the laughter dies down into nothing but a quiet stir
>Which is interrupted by Gilda, who coughs ever so slightly
>...
>You think she's jealous
>Poor thing
>You need to shower her with lots of love when she comes back with Claire
>Claire sighs as she stands, looking down at you
>"Fine, fine. I'll take her out for a bit."
"Thank you."
>You stand as well, stretching
>"We'll be back before nine-fifteen."
>Taking a look at the clock, you raise a brow
>But...
"It's nine-fourteen."
>She starts to walk away, chuckling
>Putting a hand to your head, you chuckle as well, heading into the kitchen
>Gilda and Claire mutter something to each other before leaving out the front door, leaving you by your lonesome
>...
>God forbid anything happens to them

>SLAM
>What the fuck?
>It hasn't even been ten fucking minutes!
>You were taking out the supplies to cook, when Claire busted in—slamming the front door in the process—like a damn tiger
>You guess that little nine-fifteen quip held some water, then
>Putting the stick of butter on the kitchen counter, you walk over to the pissed miss
"Er, Claire, you alrigh--"
>"Where the fuck is her leash, Myles?"
>She sounds tense
"Her leash?"
>You can't help but repeat her, raising a brow
>"Did I fucking stutter? Where is it?"
>Sheesh
>Just a few minutes ago, she was as happy as can be
>Now look at her
>She's more rabid than a raccoon
>The hell is she so mad for?
"Er... On the T.V. set, I guess? Or somewhere around there--that's where I remember putting 'em, anyway."
>Claire looks toward the living room television, her eyes immediately darting to the stand it's sitting on
>And there, right next to the cable box, is the leash
>Also, the collar
>Claire swipes them both, stomping past you with a word
>You dash in front of her before she can walk outside, however
"Woah, woah, woah--what happened out there, Claire?"
>"Bitchbird's being stubborn."
>She's so fierce with her words
>If you didn't know her, you'd be terrified right now
>You're confused more than anything, though
"Stubborn? How so--"
>She raises the items
>"Ya see this?"
"Uuuuh-huh. I don't really see wha--"
>"Birdbrain wants me to bring these shits along, 'in case something bad happens'."
>She then goes on a mocking spree, putting her arms to her side as if she was doing the chicken dance
>"'Oh, look at me, I'm catbird! I'm a stupid cat-bird cross hybrid that wants to do nothing but eat, shit, and SLEEP all day!'"
>God damn it, Claire
>As much as you love this stupid girl, you have to admit
>She's stupid--no, no
>She's not stupid
>Ignorant, yes
>But not stupid
"You do realize that you do the same shit, right?"
>She frowns with her arms crossed against her chest
>"No-the-fuck I don't!"
"Claire, if we had never met, then you'd be living with your parents right now, doing the same shit you assume she does. When in fact, she's only ever eaten twice today—and that last part's your fault."
>Her left eye twitches as she scowls at you
>Probably because even the slightest mention of her parents causes her to boil
>She hates them, and you can actually sympathize with her on that front
>However, you don't exactly "hate" yours
>You dislike them, definitely, but hate is too strong of a word
>To put it in contrast—Claire doesn't visit her parents during the holidays
>You do--shit, you do this /with/ Claire
>You can stand them for short periods of time—three or four days, typically
>Claire, however...
>"Fuck off, asshat."
>She can barely stand them for a minute
>Which is funny, really, because you're sure most people like her
>She can be pleasant when she wants to be
>Also, you can't help but notice that her snark goes away whenever she's enraged like this
>Because you're sure she would've came up with some sort of comeback if she wasn't so mad right now
>Soon after her little retort, she walks past you
>Apparently she's going upstairs
>...Wait, what?
>You follow her with a brow raised
>The two of you ended up in your bedroom
>And she's going to your bed, instead of her own
>What the hell's she doing?
>You just stand at the door for a moment, confused
>Then she lifts your mattress
>What the hell is she doing that fo--...
>Quickly, you run over to her and slam the mattress back down before she can do anything
>Crossing your arms, you grimace at her
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
>She looks at you with a certain type of innocence
>An innocence a child would have while lying
>"Whatever do you mean, Myles?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
>You feel as hurt as you sound
"Why would you even try to steal from me, when you can just ask?"
>She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms
>"Because I already know that the answer would be 'no'."
"How the fuck do you already know, when you haven't even asked me?"
>She scoffs as goes to sit on your bed
>"Five years, and you /still/ don't think I know you, inside and out?"
>Well--...
>Shit, she's right
>The two of you know each other like you know Green Eggs and Ham
>And it's not particularly queer for her to do something stupid like this, just so she gets her way
>Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose
"Even so, that doesn't mean that you can just steal from me anytime you want."
>"Yes it does."
>Disbelief showers your face as you put your hands on your hips
"How?! How could it possibly--"
>"Like this."
>She gets up, lifts up the mattress again, and takes a wad of money from your ever-growing stack of cash from under it
>She then proceeds to walk away with the cash in hand
>You're at the doorway before she is, however
>Swiping the money from her hand, you frown once more
>Who the hell does she think she is?
"Once again, you should probably /ask/ me before stealing my fucking money."
>She chuckles
>What the fuck
>Why is she chuckling?
>She absolutely has no reason to fucking chuckle
>"Okay. Can I have my money back?"
"No, you can't have your money ba--What the fuck do you mean /your/ money?!"
>Balling your fists, you continue
"You just fucking stole this from me, not even five fucking seconds ago!"
>"I mean if you wanna be specific--"
"Fuck you. Specifics have no part in a conversation about you stealing my fucking money! You don't even know what this money's for!"
>"You act as if you can't get more."
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT!"
>If you had no self control, you'd probably be in jail for domestic abuse right now--Holy shit
>Okay, maybe it wouldn't be /that/ extreme
>Mostly because even if you didn't have self control, there's no way in hell you'd ever put a hand on her
>But the point still stands
>She's being really insufferable right now
>Taking a deep breath in, you sigh
>Gotta calm down--there's no need to be rash
"Claire, all I'm saying is if you asked me, I probably wouldn't be as furi--... mad as I am right now."
>You don't let her retort back
"I mean, this is a break of our trust, y'know--"
>"Isn't having that hiding place a break of our trust as well?"
"Well--"
>...
>Fuck
>She chuckles, putting a hand on her hip
>"Just let me have it, Myles. With as much cash as you have, you won't miss it."
>Damn it
>She's just not gonna let up, is she?
>Ugh
>The absolute worst part about this is that she's in the wrong
>And she knows this
>It's not like she's oblivious to it--you know she's smarter than that
>She's excersized her intelligence enough for you to know she isn't stupid
>She's just insanely stubborn
>And you know she's just gonna keep piling reasons on and on until you give up
>And honestly, you'd rather not be sitting here for another ten minutes
"Fine."
>You hand her the cash
>And she takes it gleefully
>"Glad you understand, Myl--"
"But!"
>Suddenly, her look of glee turned into an uninterested frown
>She raised a brow as she put your money in her pocket
"You have to pay me back--"
>"With the amount of money we make? Easy--"
"As soon as you get your next paycheck."
>Her grimace grows stronger as her pupils shrink
>"As soon as--you must be kidding, right?"
>As soon as the feigned chuckle pasts, she attempts to look as sympathetic as she can
>"Y-You are kidding, right?"
>You only walk away, chuckling
"I mean, you /do/ want the money, right?"
>"Myles, you know I need--"
"You don't. You can give a small sum of your paycheck to me, if you really think that you need my money."
>She whimpers
"Besides, with as much money as you make, you won't miss it, right?"
>You make sure to sound as snide as you possibly can here
>One of the great things about her and her arguments, however, is how you get to turn it back at her
>Groaning, she obliges
>"Fine," she mutters something afterwards while going back into her room--
"If you're thinking about returning some of it to make your bill smaller, think again. You took what you took, Claire."
>"Fuck."
>You're sitting at the top of the staircase at this point, waiting for her to come back out
>Luckily, she comes back quickly
>So quickly that you're sure she didn't put anything back
>She walks past you and down the stairs, exiting without a word
>Cheekily, you wave to her
"Come back soon, Claire! And don't spend it all in once place, either!"
>She slams the front door
>Heh
>You stand, walking back into your room
>You actually hope she didn't steal too much
>That's vacation money right there
>Soon enough, you stand next to your bed
>Lifting up the mattress, you take the collection of cash from under it
>You quickly count it--holy fuck
>You can see why she didn't want to pay it back immediately
>She took way too fucking much
>The hell does she even need all that cash for, anyway?

>"MAYBE I DON'T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE A FUCKING SLAVE AGAIN, HAS THAT EVER PASSED YOUR STUPID MONKEY BRAIN!?"
"WH--..."
>Wait...
>What?
>Suddenly, you become a lot less tense than you were
>Slowly, you walk over to the angered griffon
"Gilda?"
>She turns away from you, her claws still balled
>You're definitely noting that for later
"I... I didn't realize that--"
>And she's gone
>She turned around and flew off in the opposite direction
>It's in the direction you two came in--thankfully
>But she doesn't know where she's going...
>You stare at her fly away, sighing
>Damn it
>Maybe you should've listened to him...
>You bolt off as well, running after her
>You don't know how you're gonna catch her--or if you're even gonna catch her
>But you're not gonna go home without her
>Things wouldn't go well if you did...

>NO!
>She's getting away!
>You can't see her anymore!
>Fucking
>FUCK
>Damn it, Claire!
>What the ever loving FUCK is wrong with you?
>You just let her get away, without a second thought!
>You didn't even bother to try to grab her wings or something
>You just watched as she flew off into the sky
>And now you're running around aimlessly with the hope that you'll actually find her
>Not to mention with a bunch of people staring at you as if you're a fucking mad man
>Fuck
>Your legs are getting tired
>You can't keep running like this--you'll pass out
>...
"FUCK!"
>And even more faces eye you, with some people even covering their children's ears
>Oh good, just what you needed
>Not only have you lost Gilda, but you also have people thinking you're fucking mad
>Wonderful
>While trying to ignore the glares, you slow down to a trot--fuck
>You probably shouldn't use the word "trot"
>It reminds you too much of ponies, and by association, Gilda
>Which goes on to remind you how fucking idiotic you are for letting her fly away
>Why'd she have to go into town?
>Why'd you have to go and follow her?
>Why must you be so fucking retarded?
>God damn it
>For once in your life--no, it's more like the fifteenth time in your life
>You feel like crying
>In fact, you feel like breaking down right now on the sidewalk and balling out like a god damn child
>A hopeless, lost, and stupid child
>You just HAD to fucking lose the one thing Myles actually fucking cares about, huh?
>All because you just HAD to pester her
>Didn't he say something about that?
>About NOT pestering her?
>Even if he didn't, you're pretty fucking sure he would've
>He would say that it's bad to force her to open up or something like that
>Damn it
>Why are you so stupid?
>Why don't you--for fucking ONCE in your life--have some actual common fucking sense?
>If you did, things wouldn't be as bad as they are right now
>For one, you wouldn't have a fucking lost griffon on your hands
>And two, Myles wouldn't hate you--no
>No
>He--Ugh
>He doesn't hate you
>Sure, he probably finds you annoying
>But he doesn't hate you
>...
>You hope
>Just
>DAMN IT
>"What do you think you're doing!?"
>What?
>You look to your right--oh
>Well okay, looks like you almost punched a window in
>And somebody inside noticed
>Good thing it didn't break, though
>You wouldn't want to waste your cash on something as stupid as a broken window--wait
>You start to dig around in your pockets--fucking
>Immediately, you cringe at the feel of leather
>Just another fucking reminder of how retarded you are
>But, luckily for you, you can get rid of this reminder, thanks to the money you "borrowed" from Myles
>In fact, you can get rid of ANY of those stupid reminders, whether it be some stupid pun, or just somebody walking their pet down the street
>Their pony pets, to be specific
>Although, after what Gilda said earlier--plus the dialogue from that fedora-fuck--you can't help but look at these ponies in a new light
>...
>Although, with today being the first day you've really ever seen these ponies walking about, your opinion isn't changed much
>These guys are still new, after all
>You think
>Only a couple people really have these things, yourself includ--FUCK
>Never mind about being included
>Since, you lost yours--Myles'
>Wait...

>"You seeing it my way, now?"
"Yeah, yeah."
>"Good. Then why don't you do the honors, then?"
>Wait what
>Myles holds out the five twenties he was going to give the vendor earlier
>...
>Why does he want you to buy her?
>You're still reluctant to even have her, despite his points
>You'd rather him buy her himself
>Then you won't feel guilt when you ignore her
>Or if something stupid happens to her
>Because she's not yours, technically
>She's his
>But with this
>It's making her yours

>Was that a teardrop?
>You think you felt a tear roll down your cheek
>You're a fucking idiot
>You lost her
>She's fucking gone
>And, she was actually /yours/
>And, you actually started to like--okay
>Okay
>The point you were trying to make before is that you're going to get drunk
>Wasted drunk
>Ten shots of 96% proof alcohol drunk
>Or, maybe if you're feeling reasonable, you'll have like
>A drink
>Probably
>Then your mind'll be cleared enough for you to competently look for Gilda
>Or, you could always ask Myles for hel--holy fuck no
>That's the stupidest idea you've had all day
>He'll just yell at you for losing her, and chastise you for being the fuckhole that you are
>Smart thinking, Claire
>God
>Yeah, you're just gonna stick with plan A
>Drink until you don't feel like a moron anymore
>...
>Holy fuck you're pathetic
>Is that really your smartest fucking plan?
>Drinking until you're blind as a bat?!
>You can't even be bothered to think up of something better than that
>No
>You just decide to drink and drink and drink until you're black out drunk
>You've never even BEEN blackout drunk before!
>What if something happens?!
>Fuck, you could die if you drink too much!
>...
>Wait, that's a problem?
>If you're dead, then you wouldn't even have to worry about finding that dumb piece-of-shit named Gilda
>And if you're in such a stupor that you actually believe that you're smart, then you could just find her in a second
>Easy!
>...
>Yeah, you really are fucking pathetic
>If you die, then Myles'll be crying at your funeral
>If you get stupid drunk, then you'll just get hit by a car
>Or you could always end up in somebody's bed and end up a two-bit whore--okay
>Okay
>You probably shouldn't think of the consequences
>Just look for a bar to get wasted in
>That can't be hard, right?
>Actually, with how early it is, it's probably gonna be near impossible for you to find anything at all
>After what feels to be another hour of walking, you end up finding your safe haven
>A bar called "Lenny's Liquor"
>Sounds inviting enough
>Slumping inside--actually, have you been slumping this entire time? You've only just now noticed it, if you have
>That might explain the stares from strangers a bit more
>But yeah, you slump inside and sit at a stool
>As you sigh, you alert the attention of a bartender
>Who you can only assume is this "Lenny" guy
>He glances at you, curiously
>He's currently doing whatever one would expect a damn bartender to be doing--cleaning a mug out
>Why does it seem like every single bartender in the world does this whenever you enter a bar?
>Well, that's besides the point
>Now's not the time to be complaining about that
>He speaks to you with slight concern
>Or maybe that's just confusion--honestly you can't really tell
>"What ch'all doin' here so early, Miss? The bar don't really get customers 'till 'leven."
>Is that...
>Is that a fucking country accent?
>You don't even answer him
>Not because you're notably depressed--actually that's a lie
>That's mostly why you're not talking to him
>But that fucking accent
>You don't have anything against it
>It's just...
>Quee--Fuck
>Again with the reminders
>It's /weird/ to hear somebody from here talking like a hick
>Ignoring him, you rest your head on the bar
>Now it's his turn to sigh
>He looks nice enough, honestly
>Nice mustache, tan skin
>Black and white attire--although, it's casual
>You don't expect anything less from a bar
>It makes you feel kinda bad that you're ignoring him like this
>If he ends up saying something again, you'll answer
>It'll make the time go by faster--FUCKING
>Okay, you need a fucking drink
>And like, now--
>"Y'all just lemme know when ya need something--if y'all're just here to sleep, however, then ya might wanna go down the road to tha library."
>Hey, he's kind of funny, seeing as how he just made you titter ever so slightly
>...
>Although, your sense of humor is kind of skewered from a normal person's
>It's not that anything happened to you
>You just tend to like the stupid unfunny shit a lot more than the actually funny shit
>You sigh halfheartedly
"Just get me something strong, will ya?"
>"Lenny" raises a brow at you
>"How strong?"
"Kill me."
>His eyes widened
>Then, he chuckled
>Did he think this was a joke?
>Soon after his chuckling ends, you shut your eyes
>You assume that he made a "oh shit she's serious" face at you
>You assume this because after a second, you can hear water running--okay
>That's probably not water
>But, you can hear that, and some mixing
>After a minute or so, a shot glass is plopped right next to your face
>"Here."
>Lifting your head like it's a boulder, you sigh once more
>If you sigh again you can make a wish!
>Fuck, what the hell is wrong with you?
>Picking up the glass--nope
>You set it back down when he gives you a look
>A look of interest, in fact
>Resting his elbows on the bar, he speaks
>"Tell me, though--what happened?"
"What do you mean 'what happened'?"
>"Well, most of mah customers don't just roll up in here and ask for the strongest we got."
"I didn't /ask/ for the strongest you have."
>"So I can only assume 'kill me' doesn't mean that, huh?"
>You just groan, drinking the shot in one hefty gulp
>Soon after, you cough up a damn storm
>Fuck, it burns
>"Haven't had many strong drinks like that before, 'eh?"
"I've been drunk before."
>"That's ain't what I asked."
>Scrunching up your face, you slam the shot glass back on the bar table
>"Y'all look troubled, if I don't say so mahself. If you're gonna be here a long time, ya might as well start talkin'."
>You cringe
>What is that--three instances of that fucking line today?
"Fine."
>It takes you a moment, but you do end up speaking
"You've heard of those "Pony Pets", right?"
>"Heh, heard of 'em? I got one mahself!"
>...
>Suddenly, you're interested
"Really, now?"
>He talks while making an assortment of shots
>Normally, you'd call this kind of behavior out, but who are you really kidding here?
>They're gonna be gone in less than a second anyway
>"Yeah--just got her today, too. She's a real hoot, y'know?"
>You nod as he passes another shot to you
"What's her name?"
>You down the shot--Fuck
>This isn't gonna get any better, is it?
>God, your throat hurts
>But, you try to make the pain not as noticeable as the first time
>"Applejack. She's a real country gal--kinda like me."
>He chuckles
>"Well, I guess I ain't a country gal, but y'all know what I mean."
>Applejack
>Huh
>Sounds famili--wait
>Applejack?
>Suddenly, her picture flashes back in your head
>An orange pony with a brown hat and blonde hair, with that stupid apple butt-tattoo
>The pony you were SUPPOSED to get
>But of course, you had to get Gilda
>The stupid fuck
>And she's lost out there now, gone
>Probably forever
>Again, you cringe as you mutter to yourself
"She was supposed to be /mine/."
>"What was that?"
"Nothing, nothing--sorry."
>"Don't be. You're the one with problems here, not me."
>Ain't he understanding?
>"Go 'head, continue. Sorry if I interrupted ya."
"No, no, it's fine. My story's pretty dumb, anyway."
>"Well, that's for me ta judge. Go on."
>Nodding, you continue
"I got one today--me and my friend, actually."
>Another shot is plopped in front of you
>You down it quickly
>This one burns even worse
>Shaking your head, you sigh
>"And?"
>You rest your head on the table again
"Like I said, it's a pretty dumb story."


>Your fingers tap anxiously on the wooden table
>Three plates sit at various spots on it
>One where you are
>One across from you
>And another adjacent
>By now, the food on these plates has gotten cold
>It's been hours since you've finished lunch
>And yet
>Nobody came
>Not a single soul
>You expected Claire and Gilda to be back by now
>In fact, you expected them to be back well before now
>But yet
>Nobody came
>It's like they got lost or something
>Best case scenario: Gilda and Claire are simply having the times of their lives right now
>And they just forgot to come back
>And if this is the case, then you couldn't be happier for them
>The whole point of sending them out there in the first place was to get them to like each other
>Or, at least tolerate
>But
>You know that could very well not be the case here at all
>Something terrible could've happened
>The worst case scenario
>...
>You shudder at the thought
>Neither of them are that stupid
>Well
>You can't be too sure about Gilda
>Claire, you can
>Because you've known her longer
>Gilda, though?
>You groan
>She may seem strong
>But you're sure that's just a façade
>In reality, Gilda could possibly be as weak as a baby flower
>Mentally /and/ physically
>While you haven't exactly seen her physical strength, if it's anything like her mental...
>Again, you shudder
>This could possibly be why you're so worried
>Not only have they been gone since--what, nine AM?
>But just...
>The fact that you sent out somebody who can barely take care of herself with somebody who you don't even fucking KNOW if they can or not...
>You stop tapping
>Silence enters it's way to your home
>...
>And it fucking hurts
>God, you fucking hate silence
>You stand out of your chair, picking up your plate
>Still full of food
>As are the other two
>You decide to walk towards the garbage can and dump your food there
>Then, you trot over to the cabinets and grab some aluminum foil
>And then walk back to the table with the foil in hand
>Once there, you wrap up the other plates and put them in the fridge
>At least the sounds of your footsteps are keeping the silence away
>You make your way past the living room, making sure to head to her room instead
>Once there, you get to your bed and look under it
>Under your bed is a laptop--an old one, in fact
>You've been using this thing for as long as you can remember
>Windows Vista hasn't failed you yet
>Grabbing the laptop, you make your way back downstairs and plop yourself on the couch
>A yawn forces its way through your throat
>So, you open the laptop, log-in, load up Firefox and head on to Google
>...
>Honestly, you don't even know what to do on this thing
>You haven't used it in a while, since you really don't need it
>The computer you have at work works well enough for your needs
>And even then, you don't use that one all that much, either
>You really only use it for keeping track of which patient you have an appointment with, or for keeping track of how much money you've got saved up still
>Which, granted, is a lot
>But you'll never use it
>Except for maybe a charity, or something
>Everybody knows you don't deserve that much money, anyway
>Honestly, you've even thought about giving some of it away to your patients
>With how shitty their lives are, lord knows they need it a lot more than you do
>And really, what's stopping you?
>The higher ups?
>They're already getting paid a ton
>And the money you've got saved up is /yours/
>Then again, if your patients have enough money to pay for a therapist in the first place, they really don't need much more of it
>Maybe you should start asking if they'd like to have some of it or not--Ugh
>You should really stop thinking about work
>It's the weekend, for christ's sake
>What do you even have to worry about?
>...Ironically enough, your hands instinctively wrote "Gilda" in the search bar
>You sit at that word for a moment and watch as the cursor blinks rhythmically at the end of it
>Finally, you end up pressing "enter"
"...Huh."
>Apparently "Gilda" is a movie
>Note to self: watch this later
>Although, this has got you thinking about earlier
>Mostly about what she /said/
>Or, maybe what she /didn't/ say
>There's still a bunch of questions left unanswered from earlier that you'd love to know the answer to
>Like, Gilda's past
>Gilda's parents
>What happened to her?
>How'd she end up this way?
>And, even further into the past
>What the hell was up with that building?
>Why was everyone there sleeping?
>Why was Gilda the odd one out?
>Sure, you and Claire were told that she was a bad pet and everything
>But there's no way every other thing there was an angel
>It really just doesn't make sense, now that you think about it
>...
>Google should probably know the answer to one of these questions
>But, you should be more general with your search
>You wouldn't get a direct answer if you simply searched "why is gilda a bad griffon"
>So, you search up "Pony Pet"--oh
>Google decides to be your friend and immediately puts in "Pony Pet Slave Trade" as one of the many automatic fill-in options
>This is the /first/ option, in fact
>You don't even bother looking at anything else as you hit "enter"
>And the first link is a news article
>Headline: "Are Ponies going to cause World War III?"
>...
>You never thought you'd actually see those words used in a sentence together before today
>Clicking on the article brings you to the Daily Mail, something you've never heard of before today
>That's twice in a day
>You skim over the article, and from it, you learn a couple interesting facts
>For one, it's not just America that has technicolor ponies--places like Japan and Egypt have ponies of their own, too
>Apparently any place you could possibly go to has a damn pony of some kind
>Which is interesting
>Another thing you figured out--these ponies aren't new
>Apparently people have had ponies for at least three years now
>They've just been kept in secret
>...Which brings you to why this relates to your Google search in the first place
>Most of the ponies either are, or have been, slaves
>In fact, it seems like the "pet" thing is just so people don't freak out about owning a slave
>And it seems like the "pet" thing is pretty recent as well
>Honestly, this makes things make a lot more sense
>Questions like "why does she call you master?" and "how could she be so bad?" are actually answered now
>She was trained into calling you that
>And, she wasn't /bad/
>Just disobedient
>This would explain why she got mad at Claire--she doesn't like to take orders
>And of course, she was getting hit in the face with cereal
>That's not terribly pleasant
>All of this /also/ explains why you haven't seen these guys before today
>They just weren't mainstream before now
"'These ponies have been very popular with people who either wanted a more intelligent pet, or people who wanted someone to do their hard work for them.'"
>...
"There goes that idea."
>So maybe you're just late to the party
>You and about a thousand other people
>Getting back on track, you can't help but notice that the damn title of the article doesn't correlate at all to the actual content shown
>But you will admit that it gave you some interesting information
>After you're done reading, you back out of the page and begin searching on Google again
>And you search
>And search
>And /search/
>You swear, you searched for about an hour for anything /new/
>But alas, nothing
>Nothing at all
>Well
>You can't say "nothing"
>Through rigorous searching, you managed to find something of note
>A group that's actually set on getting these ponies out of trouble
>Well, getting the ones /in/ trouble out of it, anyway
>And into places reminiscent of "home"
>An organization that offers ponies freedom and generosity--
"O-P Fag? The hell?"
>Okay, so the acronym needs work
>But seemingly, the organization is doing some good
>It's getting these hurt ponies away from their "masters" and sending them somewhere else
>/Where/, exactly?
>You can't be sure--this forum post doesn't say
>All it does is advertise the thing and says that if anybody has any tips, or if someone wanted to help, then they're free to call that number and contact them
>This could be interesting
>For later
>This has no use for you, right now
>Especially since Gilda's not even with you
>And especially since you /know/ you're not gonna treat Gilda like she's some slave
>But, you should keep the number in mind
>Just in case you ever feel like you'll need it
>You /might/ need it
>But you can't be sure right now
>...
>Suddenly, you feel drowsy
>A lot more drowsy than earlier, at least
>You guess now could be a good time to take a nap
>You probably need it, too
>Close the laptop, Myles
>Place it at the side of the couch, Myles
>Good boy!
>...
>You need to stop hanging around Claire
>Or at least, tell her to stop with that doggy shit
>You're getting infected with it
>You make yourself comfortable--er
>At least, as comfortable as you possibly can with those two still out
>Your insecurities won't get the best of you, though
>They're fine
>They /have/ to be
>It's just Claire and Gilda
>They can take care of their selves...
>Right?


>"I... I didn't realize that--"
>Damn it
>You don't let her see your weakness
>Instead, you fly off
>You fly as fast as you possibly can
>Just so you can get away
>Get far, far away
>Away from her
>Away from these stupid fucking humans
>Away from your Master
>T-They're all good-for-nothin's anyway
>Bastards, the lot of them!
>You'll fly away
>Fly somewhere /safe/

>You know how you were talking about flying away about five hours ago?
>Yeah, that was a terrible idea
>An awful and terrible idea
>Like, holy shit what the fuck is wrong with you
>Because now you're in an alleyway
>An alleyway with a dirty homeless guy
>You try to keep your distance from him, but he insists that he put his grubby little /fingers/ on you
>His dirty, disgusting fingers
>He wants to touch your wings
>He wants to pet you
>And you want to fucking claw him
>Of course, you can't do this
>If you did, then you'd definitely be killed
>Or, "put-down", as the humans say it
>You've pretty much--
"Fuck off, dirtbag!"
>Okay, he's getting /way/ too close for comfort
>Your wings start to flap as you hover above the ground
>Not too much above the ground, though
>If you did that then you'd be in even /deeper/ shit
>Somebody would find you
>Then they'd take you back to that disgusting "shop"
>And if he found out you escaped again, you'd definitely be killed
>Humans don't like disobedient creatures
>They just want everybody to--
"Didn't I tell you to fuck off?"
>You start to float further away from the creep, but the sun now hitting your back is worrisome
>Sun means civilization
>Civilization means scumbag humans
>Scumbag humans means getting captured
>And getting captured means /death/
>So, you quickly fly over him and dash to the other side of the alleyway
>Then you stop floating and just sit behind a dumpster
>Out of sight, out of mind, right?
>You can't help but hope the monkey follows this line of thought
>Just so he can stop insisting on touching you
>You may not be clean, but you're certainly cleaner than /him/
>Actually, this thought gets you irritated
>Did that stupid fuck of a Master really not think of cleaning you first?
>You hate being dirty
>Although, honestly, you weren't even thinking of a bath when you were first picked out by him
>You weren't really thinking much at all, actually
>Maybe some small hopes that this one would be different
>But you shouldn't even have those hopes at this point--Fuck
>You rid your head of these thoughts
>And immediately replace them with something actually worse
>The war
>How in the hell did you do that?
>God damn it
>Yeah, yeah, you fought in that stupid war
>Everybody but the damn kids did
>But when that war was mostly lost, you had to hide
>Everybody did
>There was fucking death on the line
>Or, at least, everybody /thought/ it was death
>Because not a damn soul returned
>But obviously, now you know that it wasn't something so forgiving
>It was a fate worse than death filled with torture and dirtbags as far as the eye can see
>Dirtbags that have killed your friends
>Your family
>And... Okay, you would say "yourself", too
>But that's simply not the case
>Because you're not gonna bend over for these assholes
>Both literally and figuratively
>You're unbreakable
>Stronger than Dash could ever be
>Not susceptible to any stupid sympathies these fuckers throw at you
>They act like they care
>They act like they want to actually help you for once
>Help you get off this stupid rock and go /home/
>But once they gain your trust--
>Your claw grabs the human's hand as soon as it reaches for you
>And you do everything in your power to not dig your claws into it
>Which is actually kind of hard, seeing as how you want to fucking murder this guy
>Soon enough, however, you let go of him
>Then, you give him an eagle stare, looking directly in his eyes
"Fuck. Off."
>You think the scumbag decided that he'd rather /not/ die today, because he bolted off faster than any pony you've seen before
>Cross the street and everything
>Sadly enough, he didn't get hit by one of those short trains
>Humans call 'em cars, you think
>Eh, whatever
>You'll still call 'em trains
>They act like trains, look like trains
>They're just smaller
>Which you'll give the humans /some/ credit for--they actually made it possibly to ride in a train without the hassle of a train
>Speaking of humans, you notice a couple looking your way
>Shit
>Without a second thought, you jump inside the dumpster to hide yourself from them
>You would really rather /not/ be see--OH GOD
>THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA
>That's twice in a fucking day now
>God damn it, you smell even worse than you did just ten seconds ago
>And so does this fucking dumpster!
>Should've expected as much, though--it's a damn dumpster
>It ain't gonna smell like peaches and daises
>Taking a quick whiff--oh fuck
>You're gonna vomit
>This is such a mix of disgusting smells that you honestly can't take it
>Why did you think coming in here was a good idea?
>What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?
>After what you believe to be a full fucking minute of gagging, you force yourself out of the shithole
>And you don't actually land on your feet
>No, you land on your face
>Because you're an /acrobat/
>Ugh
>Taking a moment to stand, you shake off all the trash you can
>Although some of it has probably stained your fur and feathers, so that can't be helped
>As a note, the sun still shines bright
>Which means you can't do anything
>Anything other than wait, anyway
>Because you're not going out in the light with all these humans around
>They've seen what you've done
>They /know/ what you've done
>You can't escape these fuckers, no matter how hard you try
>Even if your current Master seems like an okay guy
>Even if you can relate to his stupid friend more than you'd like to admit
>They're just out to hurt you
>They're only in it for their selves
>And honestly, you should too
>Trying to play nice with the humans never works
>In fact, trying to play nice with /anybody/ is just a setup for failure
>Just look at everybody you've met
>They've either died, or they've betrayed you
>They've left you for dead
>Left you to be sold by those bastards, again and again
>You walk behind the dumpster once more, trying to clean off the shit on your wings in the process
>At least you're not the auctions anymore
>You haven't been in an auction in a couple years now
>But this damn "Pony Pet" store bullshit isn't exactly much better
>Sure, there's a bed there
>But that's about it
>Everything else is the same
>Fuck
>You don't wanna go back to that shithole
>You don't wanna go back to /any/ shithole
>Especially the shithole behind you
>You just want to be free
>No orders
>No beatings
>Just your old life again
>Where you could cook pastries for people you cared about
>And show off to the little kids
>And not have to worry about getting beaten every time you fucked up by your Master
>You start to ball up your claws once more
>Sure, it wasn't a meaningful life
>But god damn it, it was /yours/
>And you fucking /enjoyed/ it, too
>Your eyes shut tight as your wings fold in place
>You hate this place
>You hate the humans
>You hate how they treat you
>You hate how they treat your friends
>You fucking hate everything about this stupid place!
>Why did this have to happen to /you/?
>Why couldn't it have been some other poor unlucky fucks?
>Why'd it have to be you?
>Instinctively, you start to lie down on the floor
>Your head feels heavy as you do this--as if it weighs a fucking ton
>It feels like it's the first thing to touch the ground
>Fuck
>A tear starts to fall from your eye
>A sigh escapes your throat
>You just...
>You just wanna go home