> switch characters and be Byron instead. Escape from the burning house and swear revenge on your father.
> search cabinets for anything usable to escape with.
> use chair to bash hole in wall leading to bathroom, better have a fucking chair somewhere in there if weve got a desk who has a desk and no chair
> use computer to access the brony forums you frequent, explain the situation you are in and ask for assistance. your fellow bronys will come and save you because friendship is magic.
E Equals MC Hammer
> Install Linux.
> Wear the pony costume and kick the door down with the horse-like strength you imagine it provides.
> use one of the t-shirts to turn the doorknob without burning your hand
> wedge other shirts under door, put on pony costume and skype the fire department
> Close your laptop. Place your remaining colorful horse figures on it, and use something in your room to push/pull it to and from the now raging fire. With shirts on your hands, craft the malleable horse figures into a makeshift shank and put it in your pocket. If the Fire Department fails to come in time, expunge all available bodily fluids onto your brony suit and rush through the charred door and bookcase, and out of your house. Barely escaping with your life, your synthetic brony suit has now fused to your skin as a hard protective shell.
Ferguson's long arm of the law laments the latest cutback.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
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