(Final Version)
 
 “I’d like two number fives, one without pickles and the other with extra cheese and onions, and make the drink large for the second one. The one with extra cheese and onions. And then a number three, two twos, and also I want curly fries for the number five without pickles—oh wait, scratch that. Only one two, okay? Replace that with another three…”
 
 For the sake of every heart surgeon in Equestria, slow down!
 
 “Erm, excuse me, ma’am,” you say, the notepad you’re writing on about to catch fire, “I’m going to need you to slow down while I write this down. You said you wanted three number twos, right?”
 
 The blob with a mare’s voice does what you think is frowning. “What?! No! I said one two! Are you even listening?!”
 
 Just another day at Hayburgers for you.
 
 You covertly pop a few headache pills as the landwhale takes her leave, having finished her painfully complicated order. You watch her go, realizing with disgust only a few seconds later that she left a good amount of spittle on the counter-top.
 
 As you disinfect the counter for the third time, you detect another pony approaching. You look up, plastered-on smile at the ready, hoping to the sweet and merciful gods that this next customer doesn’t puff putrid morning breath into your face like the last few.
 
 “Welcome to Hayburgers, may I take your—oh, hey!”
 
 For the second time today you find yourself looking into the wide golden eyes of the mailpony. She smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of her blonde mane with her hoof.
 
 “Hi, Mister, um… Anon?” She watches you expectantly for confirmation. Upon seeing you nod, she smiles.
 
 “And you’re…” Aw, shoot. It’s right on the tip of your tongue, and yet… “...Derpy.”
 
 It doesn’t sound right, but it’s all you can think of. The mare giggles, letting you know that you guessed wrong. “Ditzy, actually. But my sisters call me Derpy, so it’s okay.”
 
 “Derpy. Alright.” You smile, thankful for her saving graces and not making you feel like a jerk. “So, Derpy, will you be ordering anything today?”
 
 “Hm…” She stares at the menu for a moment. “I dunno, I don’t really come here much…”
 
 “Hey! Would’ja hurry it up?” Some double-chinned stallion calls. Two foals scamper around his feet, screaming and jumping and throwing around ketchup packs.
 
 “Err, sorry!” Derpy answers. You watch her as she frantically scans the menu, until her bad eye begins rolling upward and ends up pointing towards the ceiling. “Oh, no, it’s so hard to read like this…”
 
 “What’s keepin’ ya? Cant’cha read, ya stupid mare?”
 
 You’re appalled at the stallion’s disrespect. Derpy winces at the insult, shrinking down and beginning to turn away. Quietly she says, “Y—You can go ahead of me if you want—”
 
 “Sir,” you speak up, “we would appreciate it if you were to treat other customers with respect and courtesy. Please wait your turn.”
 
 The stallion gives you the evil eye, but says nothing else. Derpy’s tail is pinned tightly between her legs and her ears are down, and she continues to frantically search for something to eat with her one good eye.
 
 You lean in close and whisper into her ear, “If you’re not too picky, get a number two.”
 
 She immediately perks up. “Oh okay! I’ll have a number two.”
 
 “What size would you like it?”
 
 Her ears fold against her head again. “I didn’t know hayburgers came in different sizes...”
 
 You snort, but regret it immediately upon seeing the humiliated look she gives the floor.  “No, I meant the drink and fries. What size do you want those?”
 
 She looks up again. Upon realizing her mistake, she chuckles. “Oh, heh heh. Just a small, please.”
 
 “Coming right up. Three bits, please.”
 
 She pulls the bits out of her saddlebag and places them on the counter. You take them and stick them in the register, write her order down on a piece of notepaper, and then give it to the cook.
 
 You leave the register. As you pass by a pink filly, you tap her on the nose and say, “You’re on register, Tiara. I’m taking my lunch break.”
 
 You feel a hole being burnt into your head as you walk away, and can only laugh when you hear her mutter something about a worthless skinny minotaur.
 
----------
 
 “Taking off on lunch, boss.”
 
 “Alright! Fo sho, homediggity.”
 
 No matter how shitty your job is, your boss is a pretty chill guy. Despite his fourty-seventh birthday being in a week, he still attempts to be ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ by butchering slang and using phrases that nobody—in your world or this one—has touched in over a decade.
 
 Nevertheless, you like him. He’s pretty lax when it comes to rules and makes you laugh, whether or not he’s actually trying to.
 
 You walk around the restaurant with your lunch in hand, pretending to be searching for an empty table. When you find your target sitting in a corner table across the room, you hone in on her—discreetly. As you’re passing by, you just ‘happen to notice’ the little blonde pegasus sitting by herself.
 
 You’re about to say something, but she beats you to the punch. “Hey! Mister Anonymous!”
 
 She’s waving you over as if you were far away. You notice her eye is just slightly crooked as well. “Hey, Derpy,” you greet in return. You gesture to the seat, “May I?”
 
 She nods enthusiastically, and you take your seat across from her. You place the paper bag containing your lunch on the table and begin pulling items out.
 
 Sandwich, apple, banana, cookies… And Derpy is eyeing them all hungrily. That’s when you notice a distinct lack of food on her end.
 
 “So… What’s up, Derpy?”
 
 She snaps her eyes away from your lunch, then blushes slightly when she sees your smirk. “Oh, um… Just waiting for my food.”
 
 That’s strange to you. She should have gotten it by now. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be long now. We’re just having a bit of a slow day is all.”
 
 “Oh, okay.”
 
 “Here.” You pick up your apple and place it closer to her. “As an apology for the slow service.”
 
 She stares at the apple for a moment. For a moment you think she’s going to take it, but she looks back up at you and shakes her head. “No thanks. I don’t want you to be hungry.”
 
 You find the apple placed back in front of you. You raise an eyebrow at her. “You sure? You look pretty hungry.”
 
 “Positive.”
 
 “Suit yourself, then.” You take the apple and bring it to your mouth. As you open your mouth to take a bite, you sneak a quick glance at your friend across the table. She’s staring at your apple with a sad look on her face, as if regretting rejecting it.
 
 “Tell ya what,” you say, placing the apple back down. “You can have the apple if you’ll share your fries with me.”
 
 She accepts this offer readily. “Deal,” she says, sticking her hoof out across the table.
 
 Serious business.
 
 In a very stoic and business-like manner, you take her hoof in agreement. At this, she lets out a titter. You yourself can’t help but give a lopsided grin.
 
 Soon, the two of you are in the silence, enjoying your meals. The sandwich, made with only the finest ingredients from your kitchen is perfect as always. You take your umpteenth bite out of it, enjoying the slight saltiness of the ham and the cold crispiness of the lettuce. A drop of tomato juice runs down your chin, which you discreetly wipe off with your hand.
 
 Derpy places a stem on the table, and wipes her mouth with a hoof. Your chewing slows as you attempt to register the fact that all that’s left of the apple is literally just a stem.
 
 “...You must have been really hungry, huh?”
 
 All that comes in reply is an extremely loud burp. Ponies from a few tables over shoot the two of you disgusted looks. Derpy blushes profusely, one eye darting upward and the other looking downward as she attempts to hide in her mane.
 
 You laugh. “Here, I’ll go check what’s the hold-up on your food.”
 
 You leave Derpy alone for a moment to go check on how her meal’s doing. It’s taking a bit long to make, especially for such an idle day. You figure the fry cook must have misplaced the order or something.
 
 As you walk behind the counter, voices reach your ear.
 
 “...told you, I’m not serving that freak!”
 
 “Miss Tiara, you can’t pick and choose who you want to serve. Now, for making her wait, I want you to go out there and personally give the mare her meal.”
 
 From what you can hear, it’s a standoff between your boss and the spoiled brat who recently started working here.
 
 Could be interesting. You decide to listen in.
 
 “What?!” Diamond Tiara shrieks. “That’s… That’s… That’s humiliation! Do you know who she is?!”
 
 “It don’t matter, Miss Tiara. She’s a paying customer, and that’s all that matters.”
 
 “But do you know who she is?!”
 
 A pause. “Yeah.”
 
 “Ditzy Hooves is Ponyville’s biggest klutz,” she decides to explain anyway. “I’m pretty sure she hit her head when she was a foal, because those eyes are a dead giveaway to—”
 
 “You know, she’s pretty nice when you get to meet her.”
 
 A silence falls over the two of them as they both turn to you.
 
 A few seconds pass before your boss asks, “She a friend a’ yours, bro?”
 
 You think about this for a moment. “Yeah. She’s my friend.”
 
 “That figures,” Diamond Tiara says, rolling her eyes, “one freak is friends with another.”
 
 You ignore her. “If you don’t mind, boss, I’ll take her meal to her.”
 
 “Yeah, take her meal to her, work monkey. It’s sitting on the counter in front of the stove, I think you’re smart enough to find it so I’ll just—”
 
 “I’ve just about had it with ya, missy!” your boss suddenly shouts. He then turns away from the frightened teenager and turns to you with an apologetic expression. “Look, I’m sorry about all this, I’ll make it up to ya. How ‘bout I treat ya to a drink sometime, yeah?”
 
 “Yeah, sure,” you say dismissively. You walk by the cook’s counter, pick up the meal and head over to Derpy’s table with it.
 
----------
 
 Food in hand, you approach Derpy’s table. Her ears perk up as she hears your footsteps and she turns around. Only her eyes are visible as she peers over the top of the booth seat, but even they betray her smile.
 
 You have to admit, it even lightens your mood a little.
 
 You set the food down in front of her. Her eyes widen as she takes it all in—smell, sight, the whole lot. She pries open the bag and locates the hayburger and fries, pulling them out and assorting them neatly on the table. Then, she stuffs as much as she can into her mouth.
 
 Deciding that a full mouth leaves little room for discussion, you go get her and yourself bottles of soda. As soon as you set her drink in front of her she snatches it up, immediately chugging down large gulps of the carbonated beverage.
 
 “Uh… Careful, Derpy,” you say, watching as faint lumps move down her throat. She ignores you and continues to slowly drain the glass bottle.
 
 She soon switches back to her hayburger, and you decide she’s fine for now. Your mind begins to wander back to what happened in the kitchen.
 
 You really hate hearing people talking like that. You’d have expected that kind of behaviour from Diamond Tiara—that girl really needs a good old-fashioned belting (or a muzzle at least) in your opinion—but she’s not  the only one you’ve noticed disrespecting Derpy. Even when they’re hungry, grumpy land whales usually don’t go around calling other people ‘stupid’ and questioning their intelligence. Hell, even your boss—who’s probably the most chill, accepting guy around—paused when the brat asked him if he knew who he was asking her to serve.
 
 Not only that, but every time someone says something that might even -potentially- be an insult she immediately takes offense. She cowered down from the walking lard bucket, she started crying when you didn’t even mean to insult her…
 
 ‘Did you hit your head or something?’
 
 A loud belch, this one even louder than the last, scares you out of your musings. Wide-eyed, you look up to see the grey pegasus covering her mouth with a hoof. Her cheeks have more red in them than that of the local apple orchard, and her eye has gone completely astray again.
 
 All the other customers’ voices have now joined into a collective mutter, and some of them are taking their litters and leaving. Even your manager enters the room to see what’s going on.
 
 Derpy looks like she wants to disappear. “Sorry,” she mumbles, “I only ever eat with my sisters or Dinky, when I’m not by myself…”
 
 You let out a surprisingly large burp in response. Derpy’s eyes widen in shock. Out the corner of your eye, you can see your boss giving you a funny look.
 
 Derpy smiles, and your lips turn up in a stupid grin. Your boss shakes his head and exits to the back of the restaurant.
 
=======================================================================================
 
(Draft version (unfinished))
 
 “I’d like two number fives, one without pickles and the other with extra cheese and onions, and make the drink large for the second one. The one with extra cheese and onions. And then a number three, two twos, and also I want curly fries for the number five without pickles—oh wait, scratch that. Only one two, okay? Replace that with another three…”
 
 For the sake of every Equestrian heart surgeon, slow down!
 
 “Erm, excuse me, ma’am,” you say, the notepad you’re writing on about to catch fire, “I’m going to need you to slow down while I write this down. You said you wanted three number twos, right?”
 
 The blob with a mare’s voice does what you think is frowning. “What?! No! I said one two! Are you even listening?!”
 
 Just another day at Hayburgers for you.
 
 You covertly pop a few headache pills as the landwhale takes her leave, having finished her painfully complicated order. You watch her go, realizing with disgust only a few seconds later that she left a good amount of spittle on the counter-top.
 
 As you disinfect the counter for the third time, you detect another pony approaching. You look up, plastered-on smile at the ready, hoping to the sweet and merciful gods that this next customer doesn’t puff putrid morning breath into your face like the last few.
 
 “Welcome to Hayburgers, may I take your—oh, hey!”
 
 For the second time today you find yourself looking into the wide golden eyes of the mailpony. She smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of her blonde mane with her hoof.
 
 “Hi, Mister, um… Anon?” She watches you expectantly for confirmation. Upon seeing you nod, she smiles.
 
 “And you’re…” Aw, shoot. It’s right on the tip of your tongue, and yet… “...Derpy.”
 
 It doesn’t sound right, but it’s all you can think of. The mare giggles, letting you know that you guessed wrong. “Ditzy, actually. But my sisters call me Derpy, so it’s okay.”
 
 “Derpy. Alright.” You smile, thankful for her saving graces and not making you feel like a jerk. “So, Derpy, will you be ordering anything today?”
 
 “Hm…” She stares at the menu for a moment. “I dunno, I don’t really come here much…”
 
 “Hey! Would’ja hurry it up?” Some double-chinned stallion calls. Two foals scamper around his feet, screaming and jumping and throwing around ketchup packs.
 
 “Err, sorry!” Derpy answers. You watch her as she frantically scans the menu, until her bad eye begins rolling upward and ends up pointing towards the ceiling. “Oh, no, it’s so hard to read like this…”
 
 “What’s keepin’ ya? Cant’cha read, ya stupid mare?”
 
 You’re appalled at the stallion’s disrespect. Derpy winces at the insult, shrinking down and beginning to turn away. Quietly she says, “Y—You can go ahead of me if you want—”
 
 “Sir,” you speak up, “we would appreciate it if you were to treat other customers with respect and courtesy. Please wait your turn.”
 
 The stallion gives you the evil eye, but says nothing else. Derpy’s tail is pinned tightly between her legs and her ears are down, and she continues to frantically search for something to eat with her one good eye.
 
 You lean in close and whisper into her ear, “If you’re not too picky, get a number two.”
 
 She immediately perks up. “Oh okay! I’ll have a number two.”
 
 “What size would you like it?”
 
 Her ears fold against her head again. “I didn’t know hayburgers came in different sizes...”
 
 You snort, but regret it immediately upon seeing the humiliated look she gives the floor. You specify: “No, I meant the drink and fries. What size do you want those?”
 
 She looks up again. Upon realizing her mistake, she chuckles. “Oh, heh heh. Just a small, please.”
 
 “Coming right up. Three bits, please.”
 
 She pulls the bits out of her saddlebag and places them on the counter. You take them and stick them in the register, write her order down on a piece of notepaper, and then give it to the cook.
 
 You leave the register. As you pass by a pink filly, you tap her on the nose and say, “You’re on register, Tiara. I’m taking my lunch break.”
 
 You feel a hole being burnt into your head as you walk away, and can only laugh when you hear her mutter something about a worthless skinny minotaur.
 
----------
 
 “Taking off on lunch, boss.”
 
 “Alright! Fo sho, homediggity.”
 
 No matter how shitty your job is, your boss is a pretty chill guy. Despite his fourty-seventh birthday being in a week, he still attempts to be ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ by butchering slang and using phrases that nobody—in your world or this one—has touched in over a decade.
 
 Nevertheless, you like him. He’s pretty lax when it comes to rules and makes you laugh, whether or not he’s actually trying to.
 
 You walk around the restaurant with your lunch in hand, pretending to be searching for an empty table. When you find your target sitting in a corner table across the room, you hone in on her—discreetly. As you’re passing by, you just ‘happen to notice’ the little blonde pegasus sitting by herself.
 
 You’re about to say something, but she beats you to the punch. “Hey! Mister Anonymous!”
 
 She’s waving you over as if you were far away. You notice her eye is just slightly crooked as well. “Hey, Derpy,” you greet in return. You gesture to the seat, “May I?”
 
 She nods enthusiastically, and you take your seat across from her. You place the paper bag containing your lunch on the table and begin pulling items out.
 
 Sandwich, apple, banana, cookies… And Derpy is eyeing them all hungrily. That’s when you notice a distinct lack of food on her end.
 
 “So… What’s up, Derpy?”
 
 She snaps her eyes away from your lunch, then blushes slightly when she sees your smirk. “Oh, um… Just waiting for my food.”
 
 That’s strange to you. She should have gotten it by now. “Don’t worry, it shouldn’t be long now. We’re just having a bit of a slow day is all.”
 
 “Oh, okay.”
 
 “Here.” You pick up your apple and place it closer to her. “As an apology for the slow service.”
 
 She stares at the apple for a moment. For a moment you think she’s going to take it, but she looks back up at you and shakes her head. “No thanks. I don’t want you to be hungry.”
 
 You find the apple placed back in front of you. You raise an eyebrow at her. “You sure? You look pretty hungry.”
 
 “Positive.”
 
 “Suit yourself, then.” You take the apple and bring it to your mouth. As you open your mouth to take a bite, you sneak a quick glance at your friend across the table. She’s staring at your apple with a sad look on her face, as if regretting rejecting it.
 
 “Tell ya what,” you say, placing the apple back down. “You can have the apple if you’ll share your fries with me.”
 
 She accepts this offer readily. “Deal,” she says, sticking her hoof out across the table.
 
 Serious business.
 
 In a very stoic and business-like manner, you take her hoof in agreement. At this, she lets out a titter. You yourself can’t help but give a lopsided grin.
 
 Soon, the two of you are in the silence, enjoying your meals. The sandwich, which is made with only the finest ingredients from your kitchen, is perfect as always. You take your umpteenth bite out of it, enjoying the slight saltiness of the ham and the cold crispiness of the lettuce. A drop of tomato juice runs down your chin, which you discreetly wipe off with your hand.
 
 Derpy places a stem on the table, and wipes her mouth with a hoof. Your chewing slows as you attempt to register the fact that all that’s left of the apple is literally just a stem.
 
 “...You must have been really hungry, huh?”
 
 All that comes in reply is an extremely loud burp. Ponies from a few tables over shoot the two of you disgusted looks. Derpy blushes profusely, one eye darting upward and the other looking downward as she attempts to hide in her mane.
 
 You laugh. “Here, I’ll go check what’s the hold-up on your food.”
 
 You leave Derpy alone for a moment to go check on how her meal’s doing. It’s taking a bit long to make, especially for such an idle day. You figure the fry cook must have misplaced the order or something.
 
 As you walk behind the counter, voices reach your ear.
 
 “...told you, I’m not serving that freak!”
 
 “Miss Tiara, you can’t pick and choose who you want to serve. Now, for making her wait, I want you to go out there and personally give the mare her meal.”
 
 From what you can hear, it’s a standoff between your boss and the spoiled brat who recently started working here.
 
 Could be interesting. You decide to listen in.
 
 “What?!” Diamond Tiara shrieks. “That’s… That’s… That’s humiliation! Do you know who she is?!”
 
 “It don’t matter, Miss Tiara. She’s a paying customer, and that’s all that matters.”
 
 “But do you know who she is?!”
 
 A pause. “Yeah.”
 
 “Ditzy Hooves is Ponyville’s biggest klutz,” she decides to explain anyway. “I’m pretty sure she hit her head when she was a foal, because those eyes are a dead giveaway to—”
 
 “You know, she’s pretty nice when you get to meet her.”
 
 A silence falls over the two of them as they both turn to you.
 
 A few seconds pass before your boss asks, “She a friend a’ yours, bro?”
 
 You think about this for a moment. “Yeah. She’s my friend.”
 
 “That figures,” Diamond Tiara says, rolling her eyes, “one freak is friends with another.”
 
 You ignore her. “If you don’t mind, boss, I’ll take her meal to her.”
 
 “Yeah, take her meal to her, work monkey. It’s sitting on the counter in front of the stove, I think you’re smart enough to find it so I’ll just—”
 
 “I’ve just about had it with ya, missy!” your boss suddenly shouts. He then turns away from the frightened teenager and turns to you with an apologetic expression. “Look, I’m sorry about all this, I’ll make it up to ya. How ‘bout I treat ya to a drink sometime, yeah?”
 
 “Yeah, sure,” you say dismissively. You walk by the cook’s counter, pick up the meal and head over to Derpy’s table with it.
 
----------