1. Smells Like Teen Spirit
Nevermind
January 1st 1991
It's New Years. I mean, not yet. I'm saying it's January 1st but it's still late at night before January 1st. It's 1990 still.
Like, what the buck. I'm in a barn with a group of fillies and colts with guns. It's almost midnight. I'm going to kiss this colt next to me, and maybe more. Hopefully. Celestia.
I'm like, so done with the 80s. I'm hardly even a teenager anymore. I don't care about the superficial fun nowadays. Just last week I felt totally tubular and fly, and then I was all... buggin'. I'm almost an adult. I seriously can't believe it. I looked in the mirror, and I didn't really like what I saw. Jelly bracelet, bandanna, neon, leg warmers. My hair was all fluffed up. But... it's not the 80s anymore. I need to get with the times.
I started reading the news and everything. I'm modern. It's almost the 21st century and I'm going to be a part of it. For real. I need to make an impact on this world. I'm pretty special, after all. From my headphones to my smirk. Yess.
So I'm sitting here trying out this new look. I've got eyeliner on, and I'm in flannel. My mane is all... oh well, whatever. Nevermind.
I'm over-bored. I haven't done anything useful with my life. I mean, I'm pretty self-assured and shit. I'm gonna be a teacher. I love kids, I love teaching stuff, I'm generally pretty patient. Well, except today. Because I'm bucking bored.
I was so bored today that when Pinkie called I was just like "Yeah, whatever". Pinkie Pie, as you may know, diary, is the party girl at school. She's on top of everything. Including stallions. But like, clubs, raves, concerts... hell, if there's a drum circle Pinkie Pie will be there for sure.
Yeah, she calls me and she says "Home skillet, I'm throwing this shindig! C'mon. You totally can't touch this."
She's kind of annoying. Like, total ESFP hooch. But I'm such a sucker, and I was, like I said, over-bored. I was literally just painting my hooves with candles lit. So I arrive at Pinkie's house, which is a rock farm, and she's set up this huge red barn with streamers. Everyone's enjoying some spiked punch and hitting the hay. Or hitting on the hay.
Everyone is getting laid except me. What is up, diary?
I must be either really unattractive or just totally boring. I mean, my cutie mark is in teaching. I'm probably going to end up living off of coffee and a low salary. I'll have dark circles under my eyes. I'll wear, Celestia forbid, blouses and pencil skirts. Stockings and pointy shoes. They'll be so pointy they could technically be weapons. Everything in my room will be alphabetized. I'll be grading papers all the time. It sounds kinda awesome to me, but when I tell other ponies they aren't sure how to react at all. But why? Do I seem like I'd be a bad teacher or something? I don't get it...
My cutie mark is flowers. Everypony is all "Slammin' cutie mark! So you have a green hoof?"
Uh no. I'm just really good at this bossing ponies around thing. That's another problem, my name is Cheerilee. It doesn't make any sense. I am not that cheerful, at least not anymore. For some reason all these ponies have names that correspond with their special talents or appearances.
Pinkie Pie, for example, is pink. Done.
And Rainbow Dash has a rainbow mane. Her talent? Dashing.
Me... I'm dull purple and my talent is teaching. And my name is Cheerilee. My name would totally make sense if I was, like, bright yellow and my talent was cheering ponies up or partying. Hell, Pinkie Pie could rock my name. Whatever. Nevermind.
Oh, and some of these bamas have guns. This one filly, Applejack, she can drink so much cider. And she has a shotgun. I'm going to bucking die tonight because she keeps shooting random stuff.
Bale of hay? Shoot it.
Some random cider jug that could be shattered? Shoot it.
I'm going to get shot, diary. If I die, this will be a horrible record of my life at this time. I've literally done nothing. I am so useless and laaame!
Power went out. It's pitch black except for glow sticks and lanterns. I have my lighter, so I'm chilling by a lantern. How will we know when it's midnight now? At least Applejack stopped shooting off her gun. I'm going to live through this night. Barely.
So there's nothing much to do with little lighting and music off. Colgate starts shouting "HERE WE ARE NOW, ENTERTAIN US!". Everyone is shouting and singing. I'm so bucking annoyed. I am so done with being a teenager. Diary, can I just skip ahead in time and become a teacher? I just want to teach kids.
Everypony is stupid. I feel stupid. It's contagious. I don't want to be stupid, diary. I was so stupid during the 80s. I mean, I was really young and vapid. I was into Maredonna. Gross. I have to get rid of my old cross earring. Yes, I only have one. Oh Celestia, those purple acid wash jeans. My Culture Colt records! I must burn them. They will all melt and fray in an inferno later. Celestia!
Pinkie screamed "Midnight!". Well, it was more like...
HOLY BUCK IT'S MIDNIIIIIIGHT!!
I leaned over to the cute colt on my left and gave him a smooch. He's buff and bulky, not really my type, but he seems quiet. He's likely deep. I really haven't heard him say much, just "Eeyup". I'm going to play it safe and assumes that means "Yes". Oh, and he's in flannel. Maybe he likes grunge! That would be really cool. Well, I'm gonna go. This colt is giving me this look and I want a piece of him.
I was celibate. I'd stay celibate... but that is so 1980s New Wave. Gross.
Bye, bitches.
-Cheerilee
