Neighsayer: A Hipster Trixie Tale “Ma’am, you can’t smoke here.” She heard the voice, but she willed it away, taking another drag of her Equestrian Spirit cigarette. “Ma’am…” the voice began again, but was cut off as the blue unicorn let out an exasperated sigh. “The Great and Powerful Trixie HEARD you.” “Well, I…” the tan waitress stammered. “Yes, you.” Trixie turned to face her tormenter, adjusting her thick frames with her hoof as the cigarette dangled from her muzzle. “You have deemed it your responsibility to police the entire outdoors, just because your employers have adopted it as part of their overpriced establishment.” She gestured to the other tables in front of the coffee shop, where other ponies huddled, doing their best to stay out of the conflict. The waitress, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking, tried to deflect.
I Am Still Here I grew up caring for everything. All I ever did was care about what happened and I tried to make everything right. Once I fully grasped the situation though, I realized that what I was doing was pointless. I couldn't fight like my favorite characters on TV or in my favorite books could. I wasn't fighting someone head on. There wasn't anyone in a red hat that I had to beat and once that was done, everyone would be saved and would live great lives until the next bad guy came around to fight and you had to beat him and it'd be okay again. No, I was fighting someone much more slippery. I was fighting people. I was fighting good people with good intentions. That made it harder to understand what was going on much less win the war. Because even though these people had good intentions, it was making things worse as they were making something better. It was giving people in other countries food and shelter and schools while it deprive
WHAT DA FUCK IS DIS SHIT