“Ehum… well, this ‘Juvenile Aberrant Slimefighter Slug’ is what Spikey-Wikey asked for, according to Twilight. Ew, why do dolls for little boys have to be so disgusting these days? Honestly!”

The sickening sound of air being drawn deliberately through a phlegmy throat took Rarity by surprise, but not as much as the sudden thwack of airborne mucus impacting her nice, made-up cheek.

Wicked giggles rippled through the toy shelves as she stood still in silent indignation.

“Shopkeeper? I’m ready to make my purchase,” she said coldly.

“Hello, darling! So sorry, dear, but they were all out of those dreadful little dolls at the store. Screaming? No no, darling, I’m merely walking past a stadium, that’s what you must be hearing,” Rarity said loudly. She had to speak up to be heard over the screaming, and the engine noises. A slight smile crept across her face as she watched the last drippy tentacle of the former Juvenile Aberrant Slimefighter Slug toy being pulled down the chute. A spray of gummy grime globules arched through the air into the landfill. “Yes, quite a lot of construction in this part of town, darling! Listen, I’m afraid I simply can’t endure any more gift shopping today.” The grinding noise subsided and the chipper’s engine no longer struggled to turn the blades. “Is there something we could order dear Spike from Amarezon instead?”