Title:           Short - McAnon x Diabetty
Author:          GreenFaggot
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/U7z9q25S
First Edit:      Thursday 17th of September 2015 01:45:12 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Thursday 17th of September 2015 01:45:12 PM CDT

>"WOW! Look at her eat!" Twilight exclaimed.
>Nonchalantly "Well," wrapping your arm around the alicorn's neck "she IS one of my most LOYAL customers."
>"B-but this" tapping her hoof against the glass "is just wrong."
>Diabetty was demolishing her fries with gusto.
>You peel your eyes from the spectacle, now looking at Twilight in the eye.
>You sweep your arm in Diabetty's direction "That does not matter. What matters is she's happy." You smile.
>Twilight looked genuinely disturbed at your offhanded remark.
>Stuttering "B-b-but Anon, she could die from heart disease!"
>Shaking your head "Happy." You used your index fingers to accentuate your upturned lips.
>Twilight was at a loss.
>You gently pat her on the back, then spin on your heel, walking into the building before she can object.
>Entering the restaurant, you approach Diabetty.
>"Hey, Diabetty!" wrapping your hand across her withers.
>She stopped wolfing down her (now 4th) hayburger and looked over her shoulder to face you.
>Smiling with food plastered on her teeth "Yas Mr. McDonald?"
>Sweetly you asked "Are you happy when you eat here?"
>"Aw, yas Mr. McDonald" nodding "I love your burgers, an' fries, an' shakes, an' -"
>You cut her off.
>"Then, would you mind smiling to Princess Twilight Sparkle" pointing to the concerned pony "right over there, honey?"
>"Aw, sure Mr. McDonald. Will oblige you any day."
>Diabetty smiled at Twilight, shaking her head vigorously.
>Twilight still looked very concerned.
>Never mind her. You can always have her taken care of if she causes problems.
>"That's good, Diabetty. Thanks."
>Swiveling her head to you "Aw, not a problem Mr. McDonald."
>Never a problem...
>Grinning, you make your exit to the back of the kitchen.
>Once in, you look to the nearest cook "Ey, fuckface" You shout, pointing at the double doors "give the fat bitch a small fry. It's on the house."
>He looks at you dumbly "'Kay, Mr. McDonald. Whatever you say."
>"Good. Now wipe that stupid-ass look of your face, bozo" shouting back as you powerwalk to the manager's office.
>Just another day in paradise.
>You kick in the manager's door.
>The manager jumps up from his seat, hastily going around his desk to offer you the chair facing it.
>"Just sit your ass down, Frank" Waving him off "we need to talk about PR."
>"Y-yes, Mr. McDonald. Whatever you s-say." He moves back to his chair.
>You pull up a spot in the free one, hands folded in front of you.
>Shakily "Would you like any refreshments, boss?"
>Rolling your eyes "Just shut up, Frank, and start listening for once."
>The balding slob shuts his trap. You held his attention.
>"Now, the damn Princess Twilight just pulled me aside when she saw that fat-shit Diabetty wolfing down a couple half-pounders."
>The manager nods "Oh, okay."
>You sigh "Now, I managed to blow her off this time. But"
>Bringing your fist down, Frank jumped, "I think that I will be seeing her a lot more around here if you don't get your shit together" pointing accusingly at him.
>"N-now please, Mr. Mc-" you reached over and McBackhand him across the face. Threateningly you say "Shut up Frank. Just. Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
>Frank was crying silently. He was scared.
>"O-o-okay, M-Mr. McDonald."
>"Now" icily "I want you to start running ads with pony families...A happy-looking, athletic, WHITE, pony family."
>Frank scribbles down some notes, nodding "Anything else, boss?"
>"AND" drowning out Frank's voice "I want them to be having a McFucking lunch in a park. Oak tree, woven basket, picnic cloth, McVintage"
>extending your digits while naming them off "the whole goddamn works, Frank. Everything. Can you do that, Frank?"
>"Y-yes, Mr. McDonald. Sure thing" Frank breathed.
>"Now, this is all about making me" pointing to yourself "look like a nice guy."
>Frank interjects "But you are a nice guy, boss." Fuck, you wanted to decapitate the little brown nose.
>Instead, you jerk your head in a nod "'Kay, whatever. Now" slapping your hands together "get cracking on it."
>"Yes Mr. McDonald. Whatever you say."
>You stood up, lingering before you left. You look down at him, rapping his desk.
>"Yes, boss?"
>"I hate you, Frank. I just want you to know that I hate your guts to death."
>You turn around and walk out on his sputtering.