Interested in advertising on Derpibooru? Click here for information!
Help fund the $15 daily operational cost of Derpibooru - support us financially!
Description
No description provided.
Policy Update - Rules changes incoming for AI content - Read Here
The yellow Pegasus wandered through the house, searching for her little bunny companion. “Angel? Angel where are…Agh! Angel! What are you doing in there?” Angel was sitting quite happily in a clear blue ball, not a care in the world. Fluttershy, however was not as relaxed as her fuzzy friend. “What happened? We have to get you out of there right now! You might suffocate! Help! Help!”
As Fluttershy ran off to get her friends, I sighed loudly. Turning to the white rabbit in the hamster ball, I cock an eyebrow and ask, “How long do you think ‘till she notices the air slots in that thing?” An eye roll and a shrug are my only response.
Twilight Sparkle
“Twilight, I’m telling you…”
“No, no I’ll get it to work. Hngrr…” Once again her unicorn horn lit up with a violet brilliance, focusing her energy onto the silver folding box that the human called a ‘lap-top com-pute-er’. He had told her of all the wonderous things it could do, let you write messages people and send the messages directly to them in the blink of an eye, find information on anything you wanted to, play games, make new friends; all thanks to the ‘com-pute-er’ and something he called an ‘inter-net’. She never dreamed such a thing could exist!
But when he had told her that his ‘lap-top’ wasn’t functioning right, she had jumped at the chance to prove her talent and do something kind for him all in the same stroke. If only she could get the silly thing to work properly!
“Twilight, I appreciate the effort, but that thing runs on Vista. It’s now clear to me that not even magic will fix it. Thank you for trying, though.”
Twilight stopped for a moment. “What’s a ‘Vista’?”
“Broken,” He deadpanned back.
Pinkie Pie
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t supposed to do this. It couldn’t do this! Not to her, not to Pinkie Pie! Master of laughter, princess of parties, grand poobah of games! She stared at the screen in disbelief. She had done everything right. She had made her way all the way to the castle, and then…her eyes watered and her lower lip trembled as she thought of what this meant. The princess wouldn’t be rescued, the hero was dead, the evil monster had won, and it was all her fault!
Sensing her disappointment, I turned to her and said, “Pinkie, it’s just a video game.” She turned her big, watery eyes to me. Somehow, I didn’t think that this lessened the hurt from the glaring ‘Game Over’ staring back at her from the television screen.
Applejack
“There is no way this thing was made by an apple.”
I sigh, exasperated. “For the eighth time, it was not made by an apple. It was made by a company called Apple©.”
Applejack looked up, glaring as she spoke, “Now listen here, buddy, I work with apples all day. They sit up in the trees and grow, then we knock ‘em down, and eat ‘em or cook ‘em or whatever tickles our fancy. But there is no way, no how any apples made this here…uh…what’d you call it again?”
Hand over my face, leaning back into the couch as far as I could I wearily reply, “an iPhone.”
Rainbow Dash
Rainbow Dash could do some amazing things. For one, she could fly and that was a whole world of skill that separated her from most creatures. She was fast, strong, and super-skilled. She was the best cloud-clearer in all of Ponyville. She was the embodiment of the Element of Loyalty, which she discovered with her friends as they defeated the evil mare Nightmare Moon. She was an expert in the field of aerial acrobatics, and wasn’t afraid to let anyone know it. So why was this simple task so darn difficult!?!
“You want some help there?” I ask politely. She glares at me, teeth still clamped over the little metal tab on the can of soda. She drops it onto the counter, and pushes it my way with her hoof. Without a word, I pick it up, slid my finger under the tab, and pull. There’s a loud snap and a quiet fizz. Dash continues to glare at me as I look at my fingers.
Well, at the very least, I don’t.