Pinkies

In my dreams I stumbled drunkenly through my apartment. I was so drunk I had to crawl, going into the bathroom to splash water on my face. That's what you do when you're drunk right? Splash water on your face. The sink seemed to loom over me distortedly and, as resourceful as ever I pushed the stool over... with my face. God I must be so drunk, I thought. I don't remember drinking though? When did I get back from the bar? Do I even go to bars?

I would have wracked my brain trying to explain this mysterious amnesia but when I climbed up on the stool my breath caught in my throat.

Pinkie Pie was staring back at me in the mirror. “Are... you real?” I asked. She only mouthed at me silently, looking absolutely captivated. “Did... did I break a Pinkie Promise?” I whispered moving to touch the glass but all she did was move identically until our hooves touched. Wait hooves? Where are my hands?! “Holy shi-” and with that the mirror Pinkie fell away, as I fell away from the sink, my stool toppling over as I lurched backwards.

I woke up then. “Phew, just a dream,” I said in Pinkie Pie's voice. Throwing back the covers I still had Pinkie Pie's body!

“And that's when I woke up for real!” John concluded, leaning back in the booth. “You don't even like Pinkie!” Dan chimed in.

“I know!” John exclaimed. “Twilight Sparkle is best pony!”

“I wish I could have cool dreams like that,” bemoaned Ricky, next to me in the booth in that ratty delicatessan we always met at. Ricky was just the sort to dream about a certain pink pony. He was always the one who arranged these things, so social all the time. He knew half his school if not half the town. Plus he grew up in a poor neighborhood. May as well have been a rock farm. Too perfect!

“Sorry Rick,” John said slyly. “I'll try not to dream about being you next time.”

“What? Hey!” Ricky protested after a moment to figure it out. He had a sort of high pitched voice for a guy too. It was too perfect! The entire table broke out laughing. Except Elias of course. Elias just looked embarassed and blushed quietly, like he always does.

“If anything I'm Applejack,” Ricky huffed. “So I should be dreaming about her.”

“I still don't get why you like Worst Pony,” John cut in and Ricky threw back as expected, “You mean best pony!” No more needed to be said. They all knew no pony was better than another. For them it was just fun to pick one, and that inevitably led to endless best pony debates.

“It must be prophetic,” Dan announced. “For I had the very same dream, while I was Rarity.” Everyone stared at him dumbfounded. Dan was the Rarity fan, but he lived a practically slovenly lifestyle. He was still in his work uniform and he worked the morning shift part time. Probably just didn't bother taking it off, again. Why he was a fan of Rarity remained a mystery. But surely two dreams the same night couldn't have been a coincidence?

“Got you,” Dan finished after a long pause, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Now everyone moaned in abject surrender. “You dreamt about what, lunch meat?” John interrogated. “Laundry?”

Dan shrugged. “I never remember my dreams.”

“I um, had a”, Elias began just as John announced, “OK everyone, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend Shannon!” gesturing at empty space. “She's not here though, so it will have to wait until later.”

“Are you sure she's real?” Ricky joked. “Can anyone else see this Shannon?”

“She gets off in an hour. You're just bragging because your girlfriend works here.”

“She's not-” Ricky started, thinking about what he was saying. “It's not that way at all. We're just in the same apartment block. She's not interested anyway.”

“Don't sell yourself short Ricky. You have to ask her. She could totally be into you!”

“Hey Dawn, are you interested in dating?” Ricky shouted to the lady at the register. “No I'm not interested in dating,” she shouted back across the restaurant. He folded his arms, “See? Simple.”

That was a bit over the top even for Ricky so it fell to that awkward silence right before you decide to call it a night and bid farewell. “I sort of had a dream about...” Elias said.

“What?” John asked. “Don't tell me you had a dream about...?”

“Fluttershy,” Elias blurted. “Just... just a Fluttershy poster. It was on my wall in the dream but I could never put one up there even if I had one!”

“Doesn't sound related,” Dan nodded. “I guess not,” Elias agreed, looking down.

“Still don't see why you like Fluttershy,” Ricky whined. “She's so boring. She's got no personality! Not like Pinkie Pie!”

“Well she does have the same voice actor,” Elias mumbled. “Yeah whatever,” Ricky finished dismissively. “Listen I got to get going. There's a few things I need to take care of before the party tomorrow.”

“Like what?” John asked curiously. “Oh just things,” Ricky said elusively, standing up and crumpling his paper wrapping, tossing it in the trash. Good 10 feet too. You could tell he was proud of it just from the way he strutted out of the deli.

With Ricky gone the other three made their parting swift, eventually leaving only Elias in the end sitting there illuminated by the setting sun. How would he explain? Could he even tell them the dream that he really had? But enough of that let's get back to John.

John had a job as a security guard, and hated every minute of it. They sort of hook you with a slight pay raise every now and again, but my god was it boring. Not even Twilight would have been able to watch this paint dry. It was only until 2am thankfully, but he'd just gotten off a graveyard shift at another location. They kept moving him around the city. Who knows where he'd be stuck next! Or when! Nobody came into this parking garage anyway. Usually just some kids at worst looking for a secret spot to get stoned.

John was ever resourceful though, and even this boring job could not phase a man with a swivelling chair and a tiny portable television full of colorful cartoon ponies. Still, come midnight he was already ready to call it quits. The short shift that seemed to take forever. He was feeling antsy for some reason, and eager to go back to sleep hoping maybe he'll have the same dream again. Not likely of course, but it had seemed so real! That's really the worst combination of things, being eager to go to sleep. Even by 2am he didn't even feel a wink of tiredness. But going back to the tiny square he lived in that night/morning and brushing his teeth he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

And in the night, he dreamed about Pinkie Pie not once! Not even once at all! Major bummer.

John woke that morning to the alarm clock beeping with his head leaning up against a bush. He shifted rubbing his eyes with his forearm blearily trying to figure out what it was. Did something fall on his bed? When he pulled his arm away from his eyes the truth became much clearer though, because framed by a mess of pink fluffy  hair was not an arm but a... OK it was still an arm half wrapped in giant drooping pajamas, bright pink, lacking in hands, and way too familiar to miss.

“Oh shi-” he said lurching back and in the process falling off the side of the bed. What squirmed forth from the tangle of sheets blankets and clothing was the pink party pony in the flesh. As far as John could tell at least. “Woah,” he said in Pinkie Pie's voice. “This dream is too real!”

He was sort of stuck in the sheets because nothing seemed to move correctly. Of course nothing seemed to move correctly. He'd only been ponyized for a few seconds! Or maybe a minute if you counted the dream last night no wait, the night before. He rocked back and forth on his back, as stuck as a turtle, until the noise of the alarm clock registered in his brain again.

It was one of those that would keep going forever unless you shut it off. A necessary evil for one who does not awaken easily. But John was suddenly worried that maybe one of the other tenants would hear and come investigate. How was he going to keep this secret? How was he going to get off the floor??

“Just a dream,” he repeated to himself, determined nonetheless to get that alarm clock. Chalk it up to dream logic? By inchworming John managed to get to the bedside table and knocking it over with his arm (hoof?) the beeping alarm clock fell into emperor Pinkie's dark doman there on the floor.

“My alarm is probably going off for real,” John thought cradling and fiddling with the little clock, “So turning this thing off wouldn't stop the beeping. Maybe it will help me wake up?”

The switch was tiny and barely extended out the side of the clock, but his new hoof had an edge to it that managed to catch and pull until it flicked to the off status, the beeping stopping as the room fell to the quiet of traffic moving outside.

“Perfect!” John thought inwardly the rumblings of panic beginning to build up in his abdomen. “Now my alarm is off and I can wake up now! Maybe I turned it off in my sleep? OK time to wake up John. Any minute now. Aaaaany”

John was startled out of his wits by a second noise, this one coming from his bag on his desk. He calmed down and stretched around, barely catching the edge of his desk chair in his hooves and using the leverage to pull himself over. “Thank heaven for having a small room,” he thought to himself.

John managed to get his forehooves on the chair, and they made an unsettling clop clop noise. “Makes sense if you're a horse I guess?” he thought silently. John didn't really want to speak out loud right now, because that voice was just too weird.

“I got it,” he realized, half climbing up onto the chair only to slip back to the floor again. “My alarm is still going off and the dream switched it to my cell phone!” With that relief he still had to get to the thing. “I'm gonna get the thing,” John thought, “And then I'm gonna wake up and not sleep through my paycheck again.”

Bracing his hind legs and pushing forward John managed to straddle the chair's seat and of course the chair being a swivel chair smacked his foreleg into the side of the desk. “Ow jeez ow,” John resisted saying out loud mightily, trying not to give into panic. “You can get hurt in dreams,” he reasoned, “Happens all the time!”

Then the noise of the phone stopped, and that unsettling quiet descended on the room.

John tried to listen for the sound of the alarm outside of his dream, snap himself awake somehow, but just couldn't get the right concentration. Shifting to sit on the chair in a clumsy spreadeagle position he looked at his bag worriedly, urging it to

Then his cell phone started sounding off again. Sighing with relief he fumbled with his bag a moment before just grabbing it with his teeth and dragging it into his lap. The phone was in his third pocket and he cradled it in one hoof looking at it curiously. Why would Elias be calling him, in his own dream?

A hoof sandwich wouldn't trigger the call button, but John managed to squash his nose against the phone enough for it to trigger. He hesitated not sure whether to pretend to be Pinkie Pie or say his name when the voice of Fluttershy started calling out “John? John? Are you there?”

“I'm here! Are you...?” John shouted into the phone.

“I need your... someone to help me.”

“Are you Elias?”

“Yes I am! I know I don't sound like it but oh John. Something terrible has happened!”

“Why call me then?”

“Your number was the first on the... I mean, it needs to be somebody who you know, the show...”

“I'll be right over. Just sit tight and don't freak out!”

“OK...” the way that voice ended was far too familiar. Fluttershy er, Elias was freaking out. John immediately knew what he had to do. Save Fluttershy er, Elias from doing something drastic! He leapt off the chair landing on all four legs and.

All four legs and

John was standing. On four legs. Four hooved legs. He wasn't hunched over. He wasn't on his knees. Just naturally standing on four legs. There was no way he could imagine ...this. There was too much going on. There was no way... this couldn't be a dream. John's ear twitched.

John spent the next hour rocking in the fetal position.

Elias was freaking out but much less now that he'd managed to call John. How was John going to drive here though? He should call someone closer. He should call the police. No that would be terrible... oh what to do what to do.

Elias stood on three wobbly but stable legs and tried to poke the telephone again with that clumsy h-hoof of his. Hers? He didn't even want to think of the implications of this. A show with so few prominent male roles naturally meant that, but he wasn't ready for, ready for any of this!

Her shaking hoof slipped and she hung up the receiver, proceeding to laboriously type out a number in the tiny notebook she had written down everything about her friends. Everything.

Ricky wasn't answering his phone. He'd … she'd tried calling several times. It's possible Ricky just could not get to it, or that something like this had happened to him... Dan too didn't answer. Nor did Sherman, Claire, Donald or Megan. Elias knew it was a good thing his... her parent's house had a bulky land line telephone, but she had never thought it would be so important!  It was difficult enough to use with what felt like some sort of giant fingernail.

After calling John though she tried Dan again. He was only a mile away. Maybe this time he would... he picked up.

“Dan! You have to come... did something... strange happen to you?”

“Elias?” came the foreign yet familiar voice. “Is... is that you?”

“Please Dan, I am freaking out here. I am... it would be really nice if you could.. I mean...”

“I'll be right over,” Dan said curtly, in that dulcet tone. “Don't move a muscle. I'll get there somehow!”

Elias huddled down next to the phone, too terrified and shakey to call any more. This was... this was something both terrible and amazing. Something he'd always dreamed... no not like this. Not her.

Gosh I love these dividers

John had gotten so very very bored of rocking in place. He was actually lying on his side again splayed out, still not sure how to right himself. He twisted over, landing in a heap. Tried it again. He just had to get to his... feet... and then he managed it. In one fluid motion he had the body of Pinkie Pie standing once again. “OK let's just take this s-l-o-w-l-y now” he said in that voice. It didn't exactly sound show accurate but... well it was almost a dead ringer! He simply could not talk out loud without sounding like Pinkie Pie, and Pinkie Pie could not talk quietly. He lifted one foot, hand, hoof, and put it forward. This might just work out.

After a few seconds he brought the hoof back to its neutral position. “How am I supposed to do this?” he put the hoof forward again, tried it with the opposite back hoof and squealed as he fell over again. It didn't take as many tries to get righted again. All right, really getting the hang of this now! Of uh... being a walking horse. Woo hoo.

Then John almost lost his balance again and only by leaning into the forehoof could he stay upright, tottering a few steps but not falling over. Wait... yes!  “Yes!” John crowed. That had been at least 3 steps! Hard to measure with so many hooves to keep track of. Oh well! John stepped forward and leaned on it this time, and it seemed to be working but he overbalanced and fell on his snout.

“Oww...” he whined cradling the sensitive gigantic schozz in his hooves. OK so next time don't lean too much. John took two more steps before bumping his forehead into the door to the hallway. “Damn this room for being so small!” he exclaimed. It sounded...wrong. John repeated himself more quietly (still kind of indoor voice loud though), “Darn this room for being so small.” Yeah that sounded like her. None of the ponies swore on the show. It just sounded wrong to hear her voice saying anything, but swearing? Damn.

John reared up and clasped the doorknob in both hooves. There was absolutely no friction. He couldn't get the thing to turn at all. He scrabbled at it then fell back to four hooves. Reared up and scrabbled at it again. This did not look good. Then again, the hinges had simple bolts and were on the inside.

Two minutes later the door fell inward, pushing over the chair that had served as a makeshift step stool, the door coming off its hinges and crashing to the floor noisily. John stood there with a flathead screwdriver sideways in his mouth, wincing at the noise. Hopefully nobody would mind the door, as this was clearly an emergency.

He had wrapped around his midsection the bag he had fought with earlier. The straps were cinched up enough so that it stayed on his back, even if they were sideways and the straps dangled like party streamers. John took three steps to the outside and fell over by stepping on a dangling strap.

The apartment manager found a bright pink pony struggling to work a pair of scissors with one hoof and a mouth to cut short some straps on a bag wrapped around its midsection. “Gahh!” he shouted stumbling back. “Oh hi mister Tompkins!” it said to him spitting out the scissors. “Come here and help me cut these straps short. I have to go see my friend!” Mr. Tompkins reached for the scissors and hesitated, “What are... who are you?” he asked half in horror half in disbelief.

“I'm uh... I'm Pinkie Pie!” the pony said giving the brightest smile. “Don't worry this is uh, you're dreaming and I'm just a pony in your dreams. And you need to uh, cut these straps so I can get about my dream business.”

This is a freaking weird dream, thought the apartment manager, struggling to cut the tough strap cloth, but ultimately succeeding in short order. “Thank you so much” Pinkie... Pie said relievedly. “You'll wake up any minute don't worry. Now I have to be going lalala~”

That last part sounded a bit rehearsed. Mr. Tompkins was left squatting on the floor of an empty apartment next to a toppled door with a pair of scissors in his hands. Only after hearing the ding of the elevator did he think to move. The pony was still there, its back turned no wait. It was just waiting for the elevator. The doors closed and he stood up shouting “No wait--!” Greg Tompkins just realized, how was anyone going to believe this?

He wondered if he could get the camera footage from the landlord's security company.

Amazingly for John, there were no more intractable obstacles. The elevator buttons were big and easy to push, and he didn't need to reach the high ones. The door outside of the building was glass and just needed a push to open. And then John was free and on the street.

The morning was bright and sunny by now, getting on to afternoon. Days were short this time of year. Despite the chill in the air, John felt, well for lack of a better word, fantastic. He'd managed to walk all the way down the hall and continued on outside in that drunken uncertain gait. And he couldn't help  but snurf at the memory of Mr. Tompkins' face. John had even managed the singing exeunt!

It was not very long though before John was clip clopping along, in a bright sort of bouncing gait. Not the Pinkie Pie, but a more confident walk at least. The streets looked weird from this perspective. Mailboxes were taller than him. But it was recognizable enough, and John had a... pretty good idea how to get to where Elias lived. Ricky had arranged a party there once, with that boy's chronically absent parents.

“Ricky...” John thought a bit sadly. “He would have wanted to meet the real Pinkie Pie. I wonder if he turned into a pony too.”

After about half a block the canter turned into more of a slow traipse, the need to get places overriding the bubbly happiness that he's sure his Pinkie Pie was produing in spades. He looked around like a tourist, though besides the new perspective everything was still pretty grey and boring. Upon reaching 3rd street he turned right, rearing up again to look at the crosswalk button.

“Oh god I remember when these were hard to press tiny things in little recesses” he thought, banging the giant easy to press button in repeatedly. It turned out however that he didn't need to wait for the walk signal because all the cars stopped as soon as they saw him on the side of the road.

“Oh well, can't look a gift horse in the mouth!” he thought, strutting onward in the direction of Elias's neighborhood.

It was funny how quickly he ate up the distance, and without hardly getting tired at all. 5 miles wasn't hardly anything in this body. “I wonder how fast Pinkie Pie really is” he thought, but didn't want to experiment right now. There was a scared Fluttershy Elias right now who desperately needed his help.

John got lost of course, passed the cul-de-sac several times before managing to figure out how to get in. It was easy enough to ask the people in stopped cars for directions anyway. They were probably upset, but hell with it. Not like I would want to keep this secret anyway. I'm being a pretty pink pony and nobody can stop me.

“1475..1” John repeated, having forgotten the last digit, but it was pretty obvious which house was which. They weren't a tract so they were individually distinct, and he could always remember what a party looked like. Clopping up onto the short wooden porch he knocked on the door calling “Elias? It's me John. Can you open the door? It's a latch on your side.”

A thump and the sound of approaching... hooves (whew) and the door clicked open, and then swung outward. For the first time in his waking life, John came face to face with Pinkie Pie.

“What?!” John bugged out, but there was standing Pinkie Pie, another Pinkie Pie. “You're... the real Pinkie Pie?” he asked almost reverently.

“No I'm... Elias...” the other Pinkie Pie said, retreating somewhat into the darkness of the house. John followed the retreating pony in pulling the door closed with his tail. Woah, how did that work? In the time it took John to inspect the cotton candy tail coming out of his rump Elias managed to retreat to the living area before John could interrogate the shy looking pink pony.

The house was spartan but nice. Mostly filled with furniture and kitsch. The sort of thing that you'd expect from busybodies who needed a lot of stuff to validate themselves, so in short your average American. Elias standing there was quite a contrast, glaring out against the off white and sepia tones. He seemed to walk more unsteadily than John, but that was probably because Elias didn't have five miles of practice.

“How could we both be Pinkie Pie?” John exclaimed. “You sounded just like Fluttershy on the phone!”

“It's... well, they have the same voice actor,” Elias offered helpfully, scraping a hoof against the carpet.

Now that John could see Elias closely he could tell she... he had differences from Pinkie Pie. The hair was still curly, but he was shorter than John, and seemed to have more teardrop shaped eyes. And curly more in a curling iron sense than a nappy pinkfro. Or maybe that's how Pinkie Pie's hair really was? What's going on here?

John would have asked Elias just that, but he heard a familiar voice say “Who was it Elias? You didn't open it did... you...” as around the corner from the kitchen walked Pinkie Pie. The three Pinkies stared at each other silently.

Pinkies