Third Floor Common Room, Sunday Morning

[dollpocalypse]

It had been bad enough to wake up as a pony. Now Topher was realizing that his hooves made it impossible to play video games. Video games. IT WAS KILLING HIM. He stomped around on the controllers, trying to figure out a system, but his tiny character just kept getting blasted with fire that he could have avoided if he had had opposable thumbs, damnit.

Stupid controller.

Then it cracked under his hooves. Frustrated, Topher flopped down on the ground in front of the TV. This sucked.