>Day Cups
>“Where is it?”
“What?”
>“My cup of tea.”
>Glance at your bedside to the clock.
>5am.
>Great.
>The batpony in front of you sits, tapping her hoof on the ground.
>“I'm not going to wait all day Anon.”
>You turn over in your sheets so you're not facing her anymore.
>The tapping only gets louder.
>Groaning, you pull a pillow over your head.
>It works, but only momentarily.
>Tap tap tap tap tap.
>Tap tap tap! Tap! TAP! TAAAP!
>Faster, louder, eventually it begins to sound like bullets.
“ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH. Jasmine, get out of my house.”
>She begins to raise her voice.
>“Excuse me? YOUR house?”
>...Oh yeah.
>“I'll have you know that-”
>Before she can give you that same speech about how she's charitably let you stay at HER house for a number of months, you hush her with your hand to her snout.
“I know, I know! You've let me stay here and the rest of it. I know. But... it's 5 in the morning. Please, can't I just have even 30 more minutes?!”
>She stands now.
>“I... I see how it is.”
>Every single time.
>Each and every one of 'em.
>She'll feign crying and you'll go to comfort her.
>Not this time though.
>You ain't gonna give into your whipped behaviours this time.
>From the stairwell comes a weeping noise.
>It makes you uncomfortable in bed.
>The noise gradually gets louder, just like the damn tapping.
“JASMINE I'M NOT GETTING OUT OF BED GODDAMMIT”
>She then begins to wail in sadness that she has no tea.
“Can't you make it yourself?”
>The wailing stops.
>You relax, now you can get some good forty winks.
>Tucking yourself in you close your eyelids, thinking of all the sheep jumping over a fence.
>Until that image is replaced by thousands of screaming Jasmines all at once.
>She begins to sob once more.
>“NOOO-HO-HO-HO-HOOO!”
>God, what a terrible day this has been. And it's only 5:05am.
>The same cry of the negative word used to decline, deny, and express general discontent continues.
>You stick your fingers in your ears to try and avoid the dreadful yelling.
>...and it doesn't work.
>It's just changed from wailing to general screaming now.
>This is fucking hopeless.
>Ears on the cusp of bleeding, you rush the hell out of bed and storm downstairs yelling one word.
“WHY?”
>Startled by your approach the insane bat finally shuts up.
>You thank your lucky stars.
>“W-why what?”
“Why were you screaming so much?”
>She blushes.
>“I'd rather not say.”
>Before she can leave to go to the kitchen you grab her leg.
“Then why did you shout no?”
>Her face scrunches up tightly.
>“Anon, I don't wanna talk about it.”
>The one time you're nice to her and she doesn't accept it.
>Why do you bother?
“Fine. Keep that issue you have bottled up inside forever so you turn into a bitter old mare.”
>Starting to the door, the clop of a hoof hits your damaged ear.
>“I can't actually mkt...”
>Her voice dampens at the end of the sentence.
“Speak up.”
>She retracts her face behind a hoof.
>“I can't actually make tea.”
>Ah.
“So that's why you needed me to make it? All these months...”
>She nods, lips curled down.
>The green-eyed pony points to the cup she got out.
>“Please?”
>Her puppy eyes are no match for your-
>Oh, who are you kidding?
“I'll do you one better.”
>The mare's eyes light up.
“I'll teach you to make it.”