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Boss quietly poked her head up to look through the broken window. There was one pony inside; a short stallion, slumped on the couch, his hooves working their way around what appeared to be a giant bong.

 

“Where is he?” asked the mare’s voice as she stepped into view. She was tall, lanky, and a shotgun floated by her side, coated in the same pale blue aura as her horn. “He was supposed to be here.”

 

“Man, I dunno,” said the stallion, before he put his mouth to the bong and took a deep breath from it. After what must’ve been a full five seconds, he lowered the bong and leaned back against the couch, smoke billowing from his mouth as he sat there with a dopey, satisfied grin.

 

“You blow that thing like a cock.”

“Then color me fucking faggy, man.”