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All the pony club girls hated her. This morning she’d found her underwear dangling from a tree. It was so clear to the world that they were hers because of a) the tell-tale rusty streak and b) they were cotton briefs. Everyone else wore bikinis. Sure, they wore fancy panties, but no one else had reached womanhood yet. That honor was reserved for her alone. She reached for the Pom Poms in her pocket, but then thought better of it. There must be some other way to soothe her battered ego.

Perhaps she would let Fender, the retarded farm hand, dry hump her.

Date Written: February 02, 2004
Author: Jimson S. Sorghum
Average Vote: 3.8333

02/10/2004 anonymous (5):
02/10/2004 qualcomm (3): Poms Poms...pony club...Fender...I liked the detail but my inner feldy didn't laugh.
02/10/2004 Will Disney (4): i dunno, i think it's pretty good. plus fender is kinda like feldspar.
02/10/2004 anonymous: No more anonymous comments or votes.
02/10/2004 Dylan Danko (4): So she wasn't allowing him to hump her before?
02/10/2004 Will Disney: anon_user_a, is this some kind of a feature request? Please try posting something on our message boards.
02/10/2004 Mr. Pony (3): I wish I had an inner feldy. Anyway, this short perfectly captures the anxiety of youth. Sort of. A little.
02/10/2004 Dylan Danko: No you don't Pony. It's ebony black.
02/11/2004 Jimson S. Sorghum: What I want to know is, did your 'inner feldy' cry?
02/11/2004 qualcomm: my inner feldy savored the cheap, heartburned memories of malty pom pom goodness
05/24/2004 TheBuyer (4):