Wilfred walked down the footpath of a suburban street on his way to college. He was short, in relation to his peers, but that didn’t stop him from walking with hunched shoulders. Looking at the pavement, a slight incline beset him. Sighing, he walked onward, his shoes already scuffed from dragging his feet. Although his backpack was light, from an observers point of view (and there were none interested at the time), he looked to be over-exerting himself. The last leaf of autumn flew into his mouth while he yawned. Gagging and spitting out the taste of caterpillar, he shifted his prized Twilight Sparkle keyring out from a hidden flap in his trousers.
“I wish I was a little pony,” he mumbled to himself.
He reached to tighten his backpack straps but couldn’t get a grip. Annoyed, he dropped to the ground on all fours and stretched around with his neck. He felt the scratch of the backpack’s nylon on his back but when he looked, it was sitting on a light pink body of fur. Breathing louder, he examined the rest of his body.
He was a little pony!
Wilfred went boggle-eyed. He galloped down the street as fast as he could manage until he tripped over his two left feet and landed on the nature strip. Snagging a tuft of grass on his way up, he realised it was no use panicking. He was a pony now and had to deal with it. He lifted his left foreleg to check the time but his watch had snapped off. His backpack was still attached. As much as he might have wanted to, he couldn’t skip school. It was the last day he could hand in his term assignment. Turning around, he galloped back in the direction of the school.
Entering the school gates, he slowed to a canter. Picking the path of least acquaintance, he snaked his way behind the brick buildings to get near his room. The speakers sounded the nine o’clock bell. Students were already entering the classroom, talking about the usual topics among collegians; cheerleaders, glee clubs and intricate political system proposals. Wilfred hid in the shadows as he psyched himself up for his big appearance, while trying to ignore the scent of freshly cut grass. He was the last to enter.
Most of the class were seated behind their desks. The room was a simple square design with the door at the front next to the whiteboard. Wilfred always viewed the room’s stench of perpetually wet carpet as comforting. It was a form of security in a busy world – it would always be there for him. Everybody had their heads down, concentrating on organising their stationary.
The new guy was the first to notice. The girl behind, who was watching him, also looked up. Soon the whole class was frozen in astonishment.
“It’s Wilfred,” a voice said somewhere from the back.
The whole class erupted in laughter. Wilfred craned around and saw his name etched on his rear end in black Arial typeface.
“He’s gon’ an’ turn’d ‘imself inta a pownie!” the hillbilly cried.
“Well. I always knew he was a bit of a fruitloop,” his girlfriend said.
Wilfred was resolute. Society was becoming more accepting of individual differences every day, and today was going to be no different. He moved to the centre-front of the room and prepared to speak. The second he opened his mouth, a hush spread over the audience.
“I know thi-” Wilfred cut himself off.
The class exploded again, this time louder than before. Wilfred’s voice was higher, and sweeter, and had been changed in accordance with his new physique. He felt a burning sensation on his cheeks. He would just have to put up with the ridicule. On the way to his desk, he was blocked in the row by one of the burly football students.
“Rick,” Wilfred pleaded.
Rick mock tackled him and hooted like an unhinged goalie, showing no signs of moving away.
Wilfred reared up and let out a heart-melting whinny. He slammed his front hooves onto Rick’s chest, knocking him to the floor. Wilfred stepped around him and sat down at his desk, which was now a rather tight fit.
Before anything else could be said, the mathematics teacher came in. Tall, bald, and with grey clammy skin, he stood and scanned the room for any trouble-makers. Every student was quiet. One even took his hat off. Laying down his books, he picked up a marker and began the lesson.
“Today, I will teach you the way of my people,” he said, drawing some strange symbols on the board.
Three hours passed, each one becoming slower than the last. Just as his tummy began to rumble, the lunch horn sounded. Students Wilfred could have sworn were asleep sprang into action, pouring onto the oval en masse, like the vermin they were. Wilfred had already made plans for the fort-five minute break. He would sneak over to the gardener’s shed and sit, out of sight, for the duration. Squeezing out of the desk, he stepped over Rick and made his way outside.
Slinking around the cafeteria building, and resisting the urge to investigate the grain supply, he spied the oval in the distance. It was packed with students playing a variety of interesting sports including football, ball and dodgeball. Right at the far end he saw the shed, shimmering in the sun as if sent by Princess Celestia herself.
He wasn’t going to get across without being noticed. This was going to be tough. It was going to be gritty. He only wished he had been transported to Equestria as well. He blinked.
When he opened his eyes, he was in Equestria!
“No way!” he said.
Wilfred saw that he was in the middle of Ponyville, outside the town hall. The houses were cartoony but three-dimensional. Ponies went about their daily business, carrying with them baskets full of bread and apples. The country breeze carried a sweet aroma of freshly baked apple pie. A purple unicorn with a star symbol on her flank approached.
“Who are you?” he asked, completely forgetting his immaculately rehearsed I’m-in-Equestria action plan.
“I’m Twilight Sparkle. You must be Wilfred,” she said, pointing to his cutie mark.
“I guess that means my special talent is being myself,” he responded.
Wilfred laughed long and hard at his joke as he followed Twilight through town.
“Where are you from? I haven’t seen you around and, I have to admit, Wilfred is a pretty strange name,” Twilight asked.
Wilfred watched a light green pegasus zoom over to a raincloud and kick it out of existence.
“I know,” he said, blushing. “Can I change it?”
Twilight stopped and looked him in the eyes. She smiled.
“Well, normally you need the royal court to confirm it. But… I’m sure this one time they’ll let it slide if I do it,” she said. “What would you like to be called?”
Wilfred lowered his head, pawing at the ground.
“Tulip,” he said.
Twilight leaned in.
“Pardon me? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Tulip!” he said, meeting her gaze.
Twilight’s horn charged with energy and, in an instant, he had no knowledge of his previous name. A picture of a flower appeared on his flank. He was now female. They walked on.
“So, Tulip, would you like to see inside my library? I can teach you all about Ponyville if you really are just new here.” Twilight said.
She nodded in agreement. Twilight bit her lip. They walked together in silence for a minute or two. Tulip thought she heard Twilight giggle.
“If it’s alright with you, I think we should stop by Carousel Boutique on the way.” Twilight said, changing her heading.
When they reached the boutique, its spires were higher than the sun. Twilight nudged the door open, calling for Rarity. There was no response. She trotted off to a stand around the back of the shop, hidden among the racks of clothes that had been packed up for the night. Tulip wandered in, taking her time to admire the scenery.
“Ah, here they are!” Twilight said.
She came into the foyer holding two pairs of light blue socks, dotted with hearts, in her mouth. Beaming, she levitated them out so she could speak.
“Can’t read without these!” she said.
Tulip stared back with empty eyes. Something about Twilight’s appearance triggered a deep emotional response in Tulip. She would never see her parents again. Her friends would wonder where she went. If she stayed, she may even go as far as to be tempted by a stallion, replacing her girlfriend back home in the process.
“Are you okay?” Twilight came nearer. “We don’t have to wear socks if it makes you uncomfortable.”
But Tulip was too far gone for a coherent response. Hyperventilating, she collapsed onto her side and writhed across the floor. All alone, in a different world. Her coat became prickly as she heated up from the stress. She couldn’t even explain to Twilight her worries. At this point, she just wished she could be a human again.
Twilight shrieked. Tulip had morphed into some kind of hideous alien life form.
“I’m Wilfred again!” He said.
He stood up and cracked his neck, readjusting to his old form. Twilight ran out of the boutique, slamming the door behind her. Oh no. He was still in Equestria! His first thought was to hide, but that was a silly idea.
Running out of Carousel Boutique stark naked, he snapped his head around like a wild meerkat seeking the direction Twilight had run off to. All he needed was a chance to explain.
A scream came from below him. Wilfred realised he was standing face to face – or so the saying goes without taking into account height differences – with Roseluck. Not wanting to stick around, he sprinted through Ponyville, desperately trying to find Twilight’s library. All around him, ponies opened their shutter windows to see the commotion, quickly closing them again when they found out. He was so embarrassed that he wished it would all go away. He fell into a prickle bush.
The ground shook. Climbing his way out of the bush, he noticed he was inside a compost heap on the back of someone’s truck. Wilfred tried to shield his ears from the noise of the freeway but only managed to transfer some thistles into his canal. Looking directly at the sun, he deduced the time of day was between morning and afternoon. His appearance out of nowhere had scared the following car away from tailgate distance but, thankfully, he had his clothes back. The truck turned into an exit, causing Wilfred to lose his balance and fall into more compost. It was a few minutes before he had the courage to jump off.
Rolling to prevent bone breakage, he dusted himself and got to his feet. He was outside a small petrol station. The area seemed fairly new and moderately busy. In contrast to the sweet smell of Ponyville, this place stunk of gasoline. Wilfred was ashamed to doubt which he liked more.
Something in his right trouser pocket began to vibrate. He pulled out a scratched flip-top phone and answered it. Silence then disconnection. Taking a seat on a concrete step, he took the opportunity to call his parents. Maybe they could come and pick him up. He put the phone to his ear.
“Hello, who is this?” His mother’s voice sounded tired.
“Mum! You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through. Could you pick me up? I’m in Denmark.”
There was a long pause.
“Don’t ring us again,” she said, hanging up.
Wilfred lowered the phone in confusion. It must have been a bad line. He dialled his best friend. It rang for a few seconds before a hurried shuffling noise came through.
“Hey,” said Kevin, puffing.
“Kevin! I need some help. It’s Wilfred.”
“Wilfred? Oh hey man, we haven’t talked in like ten years! Where have you been?”
“Hang on,” Wilfred said, carefully closing the phone.
Trembling, he walked into the petrol station’s cramped shop and up to the counter. Obscured by a layer of security bars, a thin man approached. He bore a resemblance to one of Wilfred’s classmates.
“Excuse me,” Wilfred said. “What’s the date?”
He gripped the sticky countertop until his knuckles went white. It had been fifteen years since he left for Equestria. His parents had probably held a funeral. He wouldn’t know any of his friends or where they were. Wilfred slid to the floor, sobbing. His beloved had been abandoned.
He wept silently, shaking in the cold. The manager was threatening to call the police if he didn’t leave. Wilfred slowly got back up, holding the stand for support. He had a ringing headache and a bitter taste in his mouth. No longer weeping, but utterly depressed, he picked up a carton of TruMoo and returned to the counter.
“Ten dollars,” the thin man said.
Wilfred rummaged through his pockets and froze. He didn’t have any money.
“P-please,” he sputtered.
The storeman was already picking up the phone. Wilfred wished he could be back in Equestria, as a pony, and leave this place forever.
Wilfred had disappeared, leaving only a puff of smoke as his legacy. He left Earth, but never arrived in Equestria.
The end.
