My Final Confession: Relapse

The image of Pinkamena with her head in her hooves appears through crackling static. She's sitting at the kitchen table. A plate of food remains untouched next to her elbow. The camera rocks and zooms in on Pinkamena’s ear randomly before zooming back out to center the mare in frame.

“Do you want to talk about what you did?” Cozy’s voice drips with confrontation as she playfully questions her.

“Shut up, Cozy.”

Never one to leave a soft spot exposed but unused, the filly twists her words to exploit Pinkamena’s momentary weakness. “How many bottles of wine did you drink, Pinkie? I found one in the bed and another outside next to ‘somepony’ passed out in the garden. Were there more?” Her tone is playfully innocent despite the wicked intent.

“Please… not right now. And don’t call me Pinkie. That’s not me.” The mare slinks in her chair and shakes her head slowly back and forth.

A short pink leg juts from the camera and scoots the plate of greasy vegetables and eggs beneath Pinkamena’s nose. “You should really have something to eat, Pinkamena. These leftovers are pretty greasy and they are going to go bad soon if you don’t eat them.”

“Get it away! I’m sick, damn it!” The mare turns away as her body arches and locks with a hard, stomach rending dry heave.

The act drops and Cozy’s voice comes out raw and acrid. “You should be sick! You drink too much. It’s not flattering, you know. Throwing up in the mornings?”

A piercing crystal orb glimmers dangerously behind a curtain of magenta mane. The mare slams her hooves onto the table, spilling her food and snarling at the younger pony, “Go do something else, Cozy!”

“Fine. Maybe I’ll go drink some of those bottles and show you what YOU always look like,” Cozy pouts.

“Do whatever you want. Just don’t go outside; something’s going to happen today.”

“What do you mean, ‘something is going to happen today’ are you a witch or something? Does being miserable give you special powers?”

“No, I just have a good memory.”

“Huh? How could you remember something that hasn’t happened yet?”

Striking like a cobra, with eyes like slits and teeth forming a series of snarling W’s splitting her head nearly in half, Pinkamena lets out a furious growl.

The camera jumps as Cozy recoils. “Okay! Okay! I’m getting out of here. Don’t bite my head off because you can’t control yourself!” Tiny hooves clatter against the floor and fade away as she runs into another part of the home outside of the view of the camera.

Pinkamena shakes her head and presses a hoof to the folds of her frayed,unwashed mane. Simpering and rubbing a circular pattern into her head with the hoof, she moans miserably under her breath and notices the camera.

“Damn it, Cozy.”

She reaches a long leg towards the camera and, muttering to herself, turns it off.