>"Papa! It's time for lunch!"
>A little bat filly bounces on top of your chest as you lay on your living room floor.
>You groan and roll over as she tumbles off of you.
"How long have I been asleep?"
>"All day!"
>Her squeaky voice grates at your ears.
"What time is it?"
>"Lunch time! I just said!"
>That's not very specific.
>You wish this little pony would be specific.
>She's specific with literally everything else she does, except for time.
>It doesn't matter, your stomach starts to growl at you.
"I suppose you're right."
>You pick the little purple filly up in your arms as you stand.
"What do you want for lunch?"
>"I want a mango!"
>A mango?
>For lunch?
>An odd little filly, but alright.
"Just one?"
>She nods enthusiastically.
"Alright then. Let's go get you that mango."
>She squeals and crawls all around your body as you walk toward the kitchen.
>A groan of dismay leaves her lips as you start to walk upstairs.
>"Papa, where are you going?"
"To get you a mango?"
>"Mangoes aren't upstairs, silly!"
"Yes they are."
>"No they aren't!"
"Stop arguing, I know where I'm going."
>She harumphs and sits on your shoulders.
>That's more like it, little filly.
>You calm down.
>You walk up the stairs and take a left, toward a small room with a desk and a large bookshelf.
>"Papa, are you sure there are mangoes in here?"
>You sigh.
"Yes, I'm sure. Unless I forgot to bring one here."
>"What."
>As you approach the book shelf, you start to look over all of the books you've accumulated over the years.
"Ah, here we are."
>You pull a small book off the shelf.
"A mango from Japone."
>You hand it to the little filly.
>She flutters in front of you and stares at you.
>"I said mango, papa. Not manga."
>Manga.
>You just handed your daughter a graphic novel.
>Not a fruit.
>"Are you feeling okay?"
"You said mango."
>"This is a manga."
>You take a moment to re-evaluate your life.
"I think I need to lie down again."
>The floor's hard surface caresses your face as you lie down in quiet contemplation of where your life went wrong.