Button mash : high school life

Part 1: Its not safe to go alone.

“SHIT!” Button mash screamed as long and loud as his lungs permitted as a low boom resounded through his speakers, along with a splattering of digital blood all over his in-game HUD, announcing the slaying of his avatar by a high speed sniper bullet.

“Buttons! What did I say about language!’ Button’s mother called up to him in a less than polite tone.

“Sorry mom, It’s just…" said Button, his eyes never leaving the screen, "hacks, someone was hackin’ and.. "

Button’s go-to answer was cut off by his mother.

‘I don’t care, no more crap this and ass that, it sounds like the middle of manehatten up there, enough with the war shooters and go play... I don’t know? Play anything else that doesn't induce you to scream swears like a cat in labour!’.called his mother curtly from the kitchen.  

Button's hooves quivered with the slightest hint of irritation with the controller wedged between them, as he replied with a ’kay’ and returned to sending a hateful comment to the enemy player who ended his precious 25 killstreak. He was easily riled up by such gamers, having never grown up from a stubborn and competitive attitude towards shooters. He flexed his forelegs and wound himself up for the next round.

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Most young colts and mares left school around 12-14 years of age when they found their talent and would proceed to find a way to profit off of it. The problem was, Button Mash had a cutie mark of a D-pad, so everypony construed that he would be a game-maker, or be an expert in games (the latter was the most commonly refuted by everypony asked except for Button). It wasn't a lucrative business making games in Equestria, where most ponies were social and outgoing beings who relished the sun and didn't have the slightest idea (nor were they interested in) knowing the 'joy' of being holed up in a room, back bent over either a computer or a console making games or playing to one's heart's content with everypony else in a wide, social network-driven game. Well, the latter would happen, if harsh competition and expletives didn't go hand-in-hand with social connection, and thus nopony who played such games ever was content.

Button included.

"Please mom, I’m just too tired and I'm not even able to work," Button whined, "so it's no harm, no foul?"

“Button Ashley Mash, you’ve been on your X-bone playing that old shooting game till 5 am. In the morning. For the last 3 damn days, You're filthy, your eyes are red and your mane looks like its 10 centimeters away from the ceiling, of course you’re going to school,” Button’s mom said calmly without raising her voice. Button heaved a great sigh, looking at the bright screen of his television set with a piercing crimson stare. His hoof reached over to the 'off' button and hovered, an inch away from contact. When his mother called his name again, he couldn't stand her grating tone and pushed it.

“FINE! But woman, I demand pancakes for breakfast!” Button replied with new found gusto, the strenuous world of shooter games behind him. The day wasn't going to start on a negative note for him.

“I’ll pour you a bowl of coco-puffs…” Button's mom said in a disinterested voice, her eyes rolling at his words.

"With a cup of coffee!” negotiated Button, hope rising in his voice.

“…….fine” she said with the same tone.

Button’s raised his hoof in victory and he rushed down to the kitchen. Though initially, Button's mom was grumbling at her son's laziness, her countenance brightened up, when Button came down, his enthusiasm to start the day a sharp contrast from his bent-back posture when he was gaming earlier. She smiled meekly as she poured a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter as Button sifted through the refrigerator for some milk. Even with all of his flaws and the pitfalls life kept throwing at him, Button didn't look the slightest bit weathered by it. and his mother permitted herself to smile at his youth; She was growing old and scolding him couldn't possibly become an hourly routine.