>"Paging Dr. Nate."
>You know, they don't always have to say that when you have an appointment or an emergency
>This isn't a hospital, it's a vet
>You say a quick goodbye to Faggoty Anon (Raggety Ann? Fuck you.)
>You hope to god he takes your advice and metaphorically drowns that cumstain Skittles in that anti-shock spray
>You turn around to face the waiting room; you were right at the door
>According to your secretary, your next patient is a guy and a small lavender-colored unicorn named lavender
>Creative naming there, slut
"Mr. Grace?"
>This guy comes up immediately; all the concerned ones do
>"That's me."
"Get over here, man. Let me see her."
>He walks with you down the hallway and you give lavender a look-over
 
>In your office you set the mare down on your table
>It's just sitting there
>Not asking to pway or for skapetties, or any of that
shit
>Frankly, it's kind of beautiful
>A comatose fluffy pony
"I don't see any problems with it."
>"What? It's just sitting there, man!"
>
"I don't see how that's a problem."
>"Ha fucking ha, this is serious. She's been like that for a week now, I haven't found a way to snap her out of it."
"Uh huh. Look, I understand your concern, fluffies almost never act like this, but this doesn't seem like a medical problem. You should find, like, a fluffy pony therapist or something."
>"They have those?"
>You don't fucking know
"I don't know. If they don't, look on craigslist for fluffy pony studs, that should cheer her up."
 
>He is visibly upset by your more-than-liberal attitude
>"Come on, man! Can't you just, like, give her a check-up? There's gotta be something wrong with her that's making her like this!"
>You sigh like a teenage girl
"FINE."
>You give lavender; The Look-Over
>>Temperature check
>>Eye exam
>>Urine examination
>>Checking of blood-pressure using a testing device that resembles a rubber band
>>You even perform a blood-test on her because she's to depressed to squirm away from the needle
>>The sight of her just taking it is visibly shocking her daddy
"Alright. That's that."
>"That's that?"
"Yep, just waiting on the results of the piss test. I still haven't seen those, but I'd say so far that she's the picture of health."
>The owner is almost in tears
>"Jesus, man... you know, it wouldn't be as bad if I just knew what was wrong with her."
 
>Another sigh
>You look to Lavender
>She's just sitting there. Awake, but not making any eye contact or moving at all.
>She's like those pictures of starving African kids you laugh at so much
"I'm sorry, dude, but there's nothing more that I can do. This is a psychological problem, most likely. Has she experienced anything traumatic lately?"
>He stares down a bit and his eyes go wide
>But you don't pay attention
>Because the analysis machine just beeped: popcorn's ready
>You turn to investigate the results of the piss test
>As you hypothesized; nothing is fucking wrong with Lavender
>HOWEVER
>It does say that she has been subject to pregnancy
>Huh
>You turn to Mr. Grace with tears in his eyes
>Okay, you've seen enough abusive owners to know where this is going
>You take Mr. Grace outside the room to talk without Lavender hearing
"Alright, spill it, what did you do?"
 
>
>
>"I may have been too harsh with her."
"What did you do, nigger."
>"Okay, I got her from a pound where they all had this "outside time" thing every day. I live in the city, so I can't just let her play in the street! But one time these religious fucks came to the door and she just rushed out, and I found her getting humped in a fucking alley!"
"Uh huh."
>"Whatever I was doing, she just wasn't getting that she's not supposed to play outside! So I, you know, let her go full term!"
>
"Uh huh?"
>"That's it."
"That's not it."
>"What?"
"Fluffies don't just get the life sucked out of them giving birth. I mean, sure, it hurts, and it's hard enough doing it without exploding, but it usually goes right back to being a fucktard right after it hugs its little demon-spawn. What else did you fucking do, idiot?"
>
>This nigger's fucking crying now
>"I killed it... I took it out into the street and... crows ate it and... I made her watch..."
>That sounds about right
"Yeah, that's too much."
>You bring the guy, crying, to the waiting room and tell him to wait for you
>Stealthily tell the nurse to call the police; this man is guilty of fluffy pony abuse
>She calls the police
>Within a few minutes, the boys in blue are here
>"Topher Grace?"
>His name is Topher Grace? Classic
>"Yeah?"
>"You're under arrest for fluffy pony abuse in the form of mistreating a baby fluffy pony and psychologically torturing a fully grown mare."
>He comes peacefully, but crying
>He gets hit with a baton anyway
>Lol police brutality
 
>You return to your office, stalling on your next appointment
>Lavender is still sitting there
>She quickly realizes that it's just you
>She looks up at you
>
>
"Uh, your daddy's dead."
>
>
>A single tear runs down her face, but no shivering or whimpering or yelling
>
>Fucking weird little cunt
>In moments, uniformed men come to take the fluffy pony to the orphanage
>You pretend to be all happy as they drive away
>You realize
>Lavender will never be adopted because no one wants a shitty sad fluffy pony
>Lol