Previously, Bob was on a luxury cruise liner with Emily, his wife. On that cruise, they met two ponies named Burt, and Mildred.
Burt: te know what I like to get all the time?
Bob: Potatoes?
Burt: No, that's the Irish. I like to get the salad.
Mildred: And I get steak.
Burt: Maybe, this time te should have the insalata with me mum.
Emily: insalata sounds nice.
Bob: I have to agree with Mildred, the bistecca sounds good.
Waiter: May I take your orders.
Burt: Me, and mum will have a salad.
Mildred: Don't be daft Burt, I can order for myself. Let me have a steak.
Waiter: Okay. *Writing down orders* And for the rest of you?
Bob: Steak.
Emily: Salad.
Waiter: Okay. What kind of dressing would te like for the salads.
Burt: Ranch.
Emily: French.
Waiter: Coming right up. *Goes to kitchen*
Burt: Why didn't te get the salad?
Mildred: I told you, I could order my own food!
Bob: Hey, there's no need to shout.
Mildred: Sorry Bobby.
Bob: Please, just call me Bob.
Burt: So, what te do te two do?
Bob: I'm a therapist.
Burt: A rapist?
Bob: No, I detto therapist.
Emily: I work on advertising.
Bob: So, what about-
Burt: te know something? I'm sorry to say this, but I hate therapists. They're always telling ponies that they have this problem, and how to solve them.
Bob: Actually Burt, the ponies that come to visit a therapist tell them their problem. Not the other way around.
Burt: But te always tell them how to solve it.
Bob: Because they want help.
Burt: I just hate therapy in general.
Emily: ciao look, the band is here.
The band shows up on stage, and is playing a song: link
Mildred: Oh, I Amore this song.
Bob: Me too. Emily, do te want to dance while we wait for our food?
Emily: Sure.
Mildred: I want to dance too.
Burt: I don't. te go ahead, and dance. We'll let the waiter know where te are.
Bob: Well, thanks. *Goes to dancing floor*
Emily: *Follows Bob*
While Bob, and Emily were dancing, Mildred seemed sad. She left the table.
Burt: Where do te think you're going?
Mildred: For a walk. I need some fresh air.
Burt: Oh, fine.
Mildred: *Goes for walk*
2 B continued
Burt: te know what I like to get all the time?
Bob: Potatoes?
Burt: No, that's the Irish. I like to get the salad.
Mildred: And I get steak.
Burt: Maybe, this time te should have the insalata with me mum.
Emily: insalata sounds nice.
Bob: I have to agree with Mildred, the bistecca sounds good.
Waiter: May I take your orders.
Burt: Me, and mum will have a salad.
Mildred: Don't be daft Burt, I can order for myself. Let me have a steak.
Waiter: Okay. *Writing down orders* And for the rest of you?
Bob: Steak.
Emily: Salad.
Waiter: Okay. What kind of dressing would te like for the salads.
Burt: Ranch.
Emily: French.
Waiter: Coming right up. *Goes to kitchen*
Burt: Why didn't te get the salad?
Mildred: I told you, I could order my own food!
Bob: Hey, there's no need to shout.
Mildred: Sorry Bobby.
Bob: Please, just call me Bob.
Burt: So, what te do te two do?
Bob: I'm a therapist.
Burt: A rapist?
Bob: No, I detto therapist.
Emily: I work on advertising.
Bob: So, what about-
Burt: te know something? I'm sorry to say this, but I hate therapists. They're always telling ponies that they have this problem, and how to solve them.
Bob: Actually Burt, the ponies that come to visit a therapist tell them their problem. Not the other way around.
Burt: But te always tell them how to solve it.
Bob: Because they want help.
Burt: I just hate therapy in general.
Emily: ciao look, the band is here.
The band shows up on stage, and is playing a song: link
Mildred: Oh, I Amore this song.
Bob: Me too. Emily, do te want to dance while we wait for our food?
Emily: Sure.
Mildred: I want to dance too.
Burt: I don't. te go ahead, and dance. We'll let the waiter know where te are.
Bob: Well, thanks. *Goes to dancing floor*
Emily: *Follows Bob*
While Bob, and Emily were dancing, Mildred seemed sad. She left the table.
Burt: Where do te think you're going?
Mildred: For a walk. I need some fresh air.
Burt: Oh, fine.
Mildred: *Goes for walk*
2 B continued
Pinkamena: (winds up in a dark cave, gloating to herself about never having been caught).
Unfortunately for her, Shining Armor, wanting revenge for poor Twilight, and all the other victims (but mostly Twilight), followed her.
Without warning, Shining Armor began beating the living crap out of her.
Shining Armor: (suddenly stops after punching her face for a full 20 minutes) Wait! Wait! One più punch, punzone will kill you!.. And I won't kill you.
Pinkamena: (nearly dead but somehow still smiling) That somehow means I win!.. I kill.. Go to jail.. Break out.. Kill again!.. Instand revers-
Shining Armor: (annoyed) yes, yes. It's an endless cycle.. But I sore to let the court do their work.. What to do.. (thinking) Hmmmmmm.
To be containued