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.

Comments

[notmyownage]

"That's the spirit. Stand up to her."

[dollpocalypse]

"Okay, yeah!"
He would end up with a wedgie and two black eyes.

[notmyownage]

If not worse.

"You gotta stick up for yourself. People like her just do stuff if they think they can get away with it."

Well, no, Sam just did stuff whether she could get away with it or not. It was like civil disobedience except that she wasn't trying to protest an oppressive regime.

[dollpocalypse]

Unless the oppressive regime was the entire rest of the world.

"Yeah," Topher asserted. "I can totally do that!" No, he couldn't. "I'll just... make a robot and tell it to tell her to leave me alone."

Okay, that, he could do.

[notmyownage]

". . . Why do you need a robot to do that?"

[dollpocalypse]

Because she terrified him.

"...Because it's more fun that way."

[notmyownage]

As well he should be.

"Ah. Show her up, huh?"

[dollpocalypse]

Or just hide in his room with the door locked.

"Yup," Topher said with fake enthusiasm. "Totally. Robots are awesome."