>Be anon
>Be in prison
>At least, that's what they told you
>The building looks like a gay six year old designed a chuck'e'cheeses knockoff
>The fence doesn't have barbed wire over the top
>Just warning signs about climbing without a spotter and the various injuries associated with falling
>How the fuck would the ponies even climb the fence?
>Their hooves are too big and the holes are so small
>Not too mention the only ones to be foiled by the fence would be Earth Ponies
>The subtle racism of magical horseland never fails to amuse you

>You are approaching the doors now
>Oh look, animatronics welcoming you to your new home away from home
>A griffon, a diamond dog and all of the pony races are represented by the terrifying spectres
>Don't make eye-contact, just move along
>You don't have anything they want
>They ain't got no reason to fuck wit' you
>They're still staring at your retreating form
>Can't a negro take a walk through his own communiteh?!
>What's wrong with America these days?
>The hellspawn go back to watching the road as the doors slide shut behind you

>"Hello Mr. Anonymous!"
>A chipper voice breaks your disturbed thoughts
"Uh, hello?"
>A little white mare wearing a guard's uniform appears by your side, an open expression on her face
>"We've been expecting you for some time now!"
>You glance at the clock on the wall
>Forty-five minutes late
"Yeah, sorry. We ran into some traffic leaving Ponyville."
>A lie
>What actually happened was that a squirrel made a stirring attempt for the Darwin award under your wagon
>Your cab driver was crying and holding the dying tree-rat as though they had fought side-by-side in Mogadishu
>You wound up just hauling ass to the prison
>Some may question your sanity but you had nothing better to do
>Besides, your sentence was only three days

>The mare must have noticed you checking out of the Zone 
>"Hey, Anon. Hey. Anon. Anon!"
>When you snap back to reality she's standing on her back hooves, bouncing in place trying to wave a hoof in front of your eyes
>As you lock eyes with her, she draws her forehooves back, holding them against her chest, still standing
>God that's cute
>"Are you okay?"
"Peachy."
>She leans in and makes a quick sniff before scrunching her nose and recoiling
>"No, that's sweaty. Come on, let's get you settled in and you can take a shower."
>Prison
>Shower
>Little flag goes off in your head
>You would rather smell like your arch-nemesis' jockstrap
>Maybe the showers here aren't as gay as the rest of the prison

>The mare leads the way through hallways that belong more in a public fitness facility than a prison
>There are tasteful decorations, potted plants, Hell, even trees, are everywhere
>Through the bar-less windows you see inmates playing all sorts of sports out in the yard
>This place looks like no prison you've ever been to
>Maybe you died and went to Norway, magical land where everything is gay and good

>The mare stops in front of a small wooden door with the numbers '106' chiseled into the name-plate
>"Oh! Don't worry about that, it's just for the staff. Your proper name-plate should be arriving sometime this evening."
>She opens the door for you and room that greets you further adds to your growing confusion
>It looks like a fucking hotel room
>The bed is huge
>There's a small sitting area
>It even has its own study area

>You check through a door to your left to find that the cell even has its own fucking 3-piece ensuite
>You'd be suprised but the feeling of relief is palpable
>No anal devastation for you

>You step out of the shower and are greeted with a dejected pony sitting slumped on one of your chairs
>She looks up at your entrance, golden eyes shimmering
>Not shimmering as in 'gonna jump his bones' shimmering, no
>This is more like 'I keep waking up in the middle of the night. The face of that boy I killed in the Middle-East haunts my nightmares' shimmering
>"Anon..."
>Her voice weakly addresses you, hesitant and hurt
>"Did... did I do something wrong?"
>Her words crack towards the end and you feel like some jackass just kicked you straight in the nuts
>Shit
>You stride over to her and put a hand on her withers
"What makes you think that you've done something wrong?"
>Ohboyherewego.svg
>"Y-you... haven't even asked me what my name is yet!"
At this point, she breaks down and starts crying directly into your shoulder
>Really?
"Was I supposed to?"
>You have no idea what's going on and words fail you at the worst of times
>At this point, your ex probably would have slapped you and then run away bawling
>"Th-that's what ponies do when they meet! Unless they hate each other..."
>She pauses looking at the floor, before making eye-contact again
>"Do you hate me, Anonymous?"
>Tears are trickling from the corners of her eyes and she sniffs quietly, waiting desperately for your response
"N-no! Of course I don't! How could I hate you? I don't even know you."
>The brief moment of brightness that encompasses her face is quickly swallowed by the despair at your reminder that you don't even know her name
"So, uh... What's your name, Miss Guard Mare?"
>Another quiet sniffle before she responds
>"My n-name is Cookies and Cream."
>That's a weird name, even for Norway Horseland
"That's a cute name, Cookie. Can I call you Cookie?"
>She nods weakly, smiling around her hooves as she desperately tries to dry her eyes
>How the fuck do you cheer her up?
>All you have to go on is yourself
>Well, she does want to get to know you better and there are worse ways of doing it
"Hey, Cookie."
>She perks up at her name, ears standing to attention
"Why don't we get to know each other over snacks?"
>She gives you another smile and another nod
>"I'd like that."
>You grab her hoof and lead her down the hall, still talking
>"So anon, what's your favourite snack?"
>Don't say chicken tendies
>Don't say chicken tendies
>Don't say chicken tendies
"Uh, Chicken... Ten... ders?"
>Noice
>"Oh, just like that griffon in cell block R. Except, he calls them his 'Chicken Tendies' and doesn't let anypony else see him eating them."
"No shit?"
>Even here, /ROBOTS/ exist
>Maybe this place won't be so bad after all