>"Anonymous! Why did you give away the peanut butter and banana sandwich I made for you to Tommy Ludlow at lunchtime today? You didn't even trade it for something!"
"Because you poisoned it Mom, next time make it more challenging."
>"Drat, you're learning quicker than I thought my little human. I'll have to up the anti."
"Uh huh? And Tommy?"
>"Already received the antidote, he should be fine in a day or two."
"Well, that's a relief at least."
>You are anonymous, son of Celestia. And assassin in training.
"Princess... you have hooves, okay? You aren't good at making sandwiches. It was a shapeless mass of crushed bread and goop. Of course I wasn't going to eat it; I don't know where you've been walking, right?"
"Yes I did!"
"Check out these sweet X-Ray Goggles I traded for!"
>Young, adorable, and incredibly retarded Anon then proceded to show Celestia what looked like and excuse for the other children to kick his ass.
>"Oh... It's...lovely, dear."
>She leans over to a guard as soon as Anon is out of earshot
>"I want it broken and gone by tomorrow morning."
>"The...toy, your Highness?"
>"Yes, the toy! What did you think I meant?"
>Everytime Anon makes a mess of things, Celestia sends the guards to clean it up.
>This wouldn't be so surprising if it weren't for the fact that she constantly words her orders to sound like she wants a hit squad.
>Of course she does it on accident and immidiately clarifies herself.
>But whose to say there isn't some deep seeded ill-intent.
...Why do I want this?
>"Princess! The gryphon emissary is nowhere to be seen! When this morning the maids went to deliver breakfast, she was gone! Even her guards know nothing and they are blaming us for an assasination!"
"How could this have happened? Who was the last among our court to see her?"
>"It was Sir Anon i think! He said he had urgent business meeting with her regarding some sort of herbal ingredient. When asked to elaborate, he just said 'Catbutt'.
I feel your pain, bro. Fuckin' C-students at best, the lot of 'em.
Tut tut, tonge-cluckin' gram-mare-ian