- >you are walking home after a particularly long day of working the Carousel Boutique's front desk
- >you swear, the language is so ingrained to your head first and foremost, that you cannot fathom speaking in any tone otherwise
- "Well, it could be a lot worse than sounding like a British socialite."
- >you stroke your slim mustache that Rarity asks you to wear
- >it was beginning to grow on you
- >suddenly, a noise is heard from the bushes at your door
- >you drop into a boxer's stance, dukes up as it were
- >you hear "ROUND ONE, START!"
- >Fluttershy bursts through the foliage with a spinning back kick, wearing a red headband
- >you give her a cross counter, and an uppercut
- >you see her hit the ground, out for the count
- >you spin around, no longer facing her
- "Fluttershy, street fighting isn't my fetish"
- >she doesn't respond
- >you take a rose out of your bush, and throw it over your shoulder
- >it lands perfectly on her torso
- "Gutter trash."
- Fucking Fluttershy
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