Pam took the cat from Anna and carried him to the animal clinic. [Acorn thanked God that he’d be rid of the cat for a while. But God did not listen. For when you are a pony like Acorn, you must be your own God, an eternal slave to an egocentric spiral of self-worship.] The Pony Pals rode on Riddle Road, [which was home to the town’s sphinx. After besting it in a furious battle of wits, they reached] the post office. Anna ran in and pinned the poster to the [back of the sturdiest mail carrier she could find.] Next, they rode to Upper Main Street. Anna stayed with the ponies, while Pam and [Pawnee rolled all their strength and all their sweetness up into one ball.] The last stop was [complete bullshit]. Pam held the ponies while Anna and [Pawnee did their fucking lost cat shtick. Fuck. Why does Jeanne Betancourt waste the few remaining years of her life on these stories? What does she whisper to herself at night to justify her existence? And does the night listen?] “I’m going to buy the cat a toy,” Anna told [Pawnee]. “[Maybe tempting the cat’s playful spirit is the key to banishing the twisted energies crackling within its veins.”] “Sure,” said [Pawnee, in the manner of a widow who has nothing left to lose, not even her sanity.] Anna led the way to the pet section of the store. There were five different kinds of toys for cats. [This is a distractingly specific and completely fucking pointless detail that adds nothing to the story.] “This one is [the least irradiated],” said Anna. She #DetectivePony