Someone was playing the bongos. Loud.
Or maybe it was just me? I opened my eyes and tried to stand up, only to fall down immediately. My head pounded with the intensity of a stampeding herd of buffalo as I rested it on the fluffy pillow. Yeah, it was definitely me. My temples were the bongos, and last night’s alcohol was the musician. At least the pillow felt nice.
My eyes shot open. Oh crap, I gotta get ready! With no time to lose, I bolted out of the silky scarlet sheets to the wardrobe. I sifted through the myriad of clothes, searching for the right articles. No pants, shirts or underwear. Just dresses. Shrugging, I wiggled out of my black lingerie, a silky and transparent nightdress. Maybe a bit much for sleepwear, but it was comfortable on my streamlined body.
“Perfect!” I said, pulling out a pink summer dress. It was a little short, but absolutely cute! I trotted over to the closet, searching for perfect matching shoes and a hat. My stomach was empty, my head was pounding, and only a decent breakfast could cure this hungover predicament. And if I had to go out to do it, I might as well do it in style.
A yellow bonnet, pink sunglasses, and a matching yellow shoes for the bonnet made for an absolutely fabulous dress. Or was the bonnet canary? Regardless, it had an absolutely fashionable gem design on it. Enough to feel like a princess.
First order of business: shower. I trotted to the bathroom and turned on the hot water. I slipped into the stall and hummed a merry tune as I scrubbed my fur coat and luscious mane with floral shampoo. A well groomed body fits a well groomed mind, as my mother always said. After a few minutes of hot, steaming water seeped through my coat, I shut off the water and exited the stall. After wiping myself off with a towel, I wrapped it around my chest and decided it was time to dry my mane.
I picked up a blowdryer and watched myself dry in the mirror, staring into my dazzling blue eyes and luscious locks of pure love. I couldn’t help but admire my appearance, something that took an amazing amount of maintenance. And for what? Fame? Love? Narcissism? I knew it was partly because of my work, a fashionista couldn’t sell if she wasn’t equally fashionable to her wares, but it was the feeling that did it. It kinda felt… nice, feeling pretty.
Enough admiration of the pretty horse. It was time. I flipped off the blowdryer and picked up the brush, proceeding to style my mane with pretty locks and volume.
Eyeliner? Check.
Mascara? Check.
A touch of lipstick? Not too much dabbed on, but just enough to get that “look” I wanted. Now for some blush, maybe some toner… Perfect!
I grinned, barely unable to contain my excitement. A pretty—no, beautiful horse stared back in me in the mirror. My eyes, my mane, my face! I look so glamorous! Like a model!
Now that my body was groomed and ready for the world, it was time to put on some clothes. I slipped on the dress, tied the bonnet over my mane (not too tight, not too loose), and slipped on the shoes. They fit snug to my hooves, something I found quite comfortable. It was like they weren’t even there!
I trotted down the stairs, stopping only to grab a few gems for the road. I trotted through the fashion boutique, admiring the fabric and gems and mannequins of equine shapes. I considered stopping at the kitchen for a bite to eat, but decided that going out for everyone to see me was ultimately worth the wait.
Okay, I caved a little. I had a piece of toast, but made sure I didn’t get any crumbs on my dress!
Finally, at last, the front door. I opened it, raised my nose with a gleeful hmph, and pranced outside. The sun felt warm on my coat, and the bonnet and sunglasses shielded my eyes from the sun. My head still throbbed, but the worst of it was shielded from the sun.
“Good morning, Rarity!” the little sister that I never recalled having yet bore a striking resemblance to me shouted as she bounced just outside my front door. “I’ve been waiting all morning! Did you have fun last night? Was Spike there? Did you have fun? Did you? Did you? Did you?” She was cute, adorably so, but irritating and worsening my sensitive headache.
“That’s enough, little one,” I replied, lightly pushing her aside with a hoof. I quickly mumbled some noncoherent syllables, hoping she’d think I said her name. My head was pounding, and I could not remember anything! “Er, I have to go eat now. I’ll see you later, er, darling.” The last word rolled off my tongue naturally, as if it shared a bond with me like no others. Funny, how one word can define so many things at once. Many meanings, many emotions, all in one word.
The filly nodded and bounced away, shouting at her nearby friends to go “crusading.” I had no idea why they wanted to start a political movement noon on a Sunday, but to each their own. Then again, I was on a révolution de la mode.
I paused, mid-step before the restaurant. Since when do I know French? I paused, my mind whirring for an answer. Coming up with nothing, I shrugged, walked inside, and requested a table to be seated at. I’ve been hungover plenty of times and forgotten worse. It wasn’t a surprise to me if I learned another language while blacked out.
The waiter seated me, and handed me a menu. He twirled his mustache and winked at me, giving me a flirtatious compliment as he rattled off the morning special. I giggled and winked back, feeling giddy that someone would call me pretty. I stared at the menu, and ultimately ordered the hay hashbrowns. Nothing too heavy; gotta watch this figure.
As I waited for my morning meal, I made eye contact with several stallions and mares to exchange amused looks and smiles. A few winked at me, regardless of gender, and I silently flirted back. Giggling, I gleefully dug into my breakfast as the waiter placed it in front of me. He smiled and thanked me for my patronage as I tossed him a gem, humming as I chewed my treat.
Each chew and each swallow eased my hangover, and each sip of my water distilled the pain further. Soon, I became coherent. Coherent. My chewing slow as something dawned on me. Something wasn’t right here. I looked at my hooves, at my mane, at my dress. Something screamed wrong.
“Oh, of course!” I giggled, tapping my forehead with my hoof. I picked up the ketchup and squirted a dab on my hay hashbrowns. “Can’t eat hash browns without ketchup!”
“I agree,” the waiter said as he stopped by to check up on me. He twirled his mustache, his eyes twinkling with sheer charisma. “Anything I can do for you, miss?”
I raised an eyebrow and a hoof. “Can you say that again, sir?” I said, raising a glass of water and taking a deep gulp. My inner diva called for it, but I could not recall why.
“Er, of course, miss—”
I spat out my water.
Miss.
“Wait a minute, I’m a dude!”
“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” I chanted in frenzy as I dashed away (but not before leaving a generous tip, of course) from the restaurant. Ponies gasped at my outburst, and a few fainted. A couple, however, whistled their approval. I shook my head, shaking dirty thoughts out of my head. Too many things were flickering through my mind to focus, and I needed peace and quiet to do it.
The bakery? I thought, my nose leading me to a corner store. Another mare noticed me and waved, beaming wider than a construction worker. No, she recognizes me. But I don’t recognize her! I broke into a gallop the moment she opened the door, not wanting to be roped into a conversation. Besides, she looked high on sugar. No way I’m dealing with that.
Public buildings, public buildings, I thought to myself as I cantered through the village. Ponies waved at me, shouting the name I apparently owned. A few stallions shouted words of praise, and mares tried to stop me to answer their questions, most likely about their manes. I kept running, looking for sanctuary. I figured I would be safe if I could find someplace like a—Library, perfect!
Ducking inside, I shut the door behind me before any other ponies would harass the mare known as Rarity. Sheesh, it was like I was popular or something. Then again, I was fabulous. I sat on my haunches, bracing my shoulder against the door, and locked it. It was a library; it wasn’t like anyone was actually going to come in.
“Hey Rarity, what brings you here?” a dragon called as he walked down her oaken stairs.
Horse apples.
I paused for a moment. Was “horse apples” an actual curse? Or was I just overreacting to the fact that I was kinda lacking hands at the moment? What made it a curse, anyway? Is “horse” a derogatory statement? Are apples bad in this world or something? Or maybe horses eating apples implied something bestial at best? Maybe—
“Rarity!” the male voice called right next to my ear, cutting through my thoughts and dragging me back to reality. Or, well, as close to reality as I could manage at this point. I blinked and shook my head. The dragon stood before me, standing hardly a head higher than I. His biceps bulged under his scales, showing off how often he went to the gym. I swear, some people hit the gym too much. What’s the point of having big muscles to show off all the time? It looks like you’re compensating—I quickly realized the irony, having reflected on my morning beauty routine, and quieted my thoughts.
“Er, yes?” I said, fluttering my eyelashes at the masculine dragon. He was quite manly, after all. A nice lavender shade, with green accents for gills! He frowned at me, as if I had said something wrong. I gulped, my mind trying to grasp something to remain undetected, realizing my voice had dropped an octave as I lost focus. I needed to focus, to find something to grasp onto. I was forgetting… “Darling!”
The dragon backed away and smiled, his eyes giving me a warmth I’ve seen from no other. “It’s nice to see you, Rarity, but isn’t it a bit early?”
“I, uh,” I said, trying to find the right words. “I’m not sure what you mean, darling. My mind has been all over the place this morning!” I smiled, knowing full well that was the truth. But would he buy it?
“Oh, I see,” the dragon said, rubbing his neck with his clawed hand. “I’m just talking about our date tomorrow, if that’s okay. You’re, er, still okay with that? I understand if you, ya know, need to…” He trailed off, tapping the ground with his toe subconsciously. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that the mare I was currently masquerading as had some history with this dragon. Judging by the blush on his cheeks, I’d wager someone had a crush.
Flickering my eyes between the door and the dragon, my mind warred with itself. On one hand, I needed to stay undetected and find the nearest bar (as according to the rules of The Brotherhood, chapter ten and section fifteen, in case of emergencies). On the other, I was in the body of another who was well known and had her own life, and I didn’t want to screw it up for her. Fancy that, I’m worrying about the life of a stranger as I’m stranded in an alien world. How altruistic.
I sighed, unable to go on any further. I looked up the dragon and smiled.
“Of course, darling. Perhaps we should meet up at a normal time, say seven o’clock?” I said, wagering that their supper times was close to humans. Humans. Oh of course, I was human! No wonder the hooves felt weird when I thought about them too much.
The dragon nodded. “Of course, my lady,” he said with a bow. “Would you prefer to meet there, or shall I escort you?”
“Oh my,” I giggled, selling it as best as I could. “Oh, how much of a gentleman you are! Certainly, I’d love to be escorted by the kindest and most handsomest in all the land.
The dragon squeaked, blushed, and turned to walk up the stairs. I said my goodbyes and rested at the door, finally allowing the situation to sink in. So, I’m a human male, or at least I was. I must have gotten majorly drunk last night, blacked out, and woke up as a really hot horse.
“That was some party,” I whispered to myself, testing my masculine voice. It seemed I had to focus to maintain the female tone, which somehow came naturally with the body. I raised a hoof and stared at it, contemplating how I could possibly lift things with such a dexterous, yet flat appendage. Then again, I was a unicorn.
I bit my lip again. Since when do unicorns have magic spells? Nothing was making sense in this world. I sighed, then stood up to open the door and walked outside.
The town had to have a bar, it just had to. It was early, no doubt, but I was less likely to miss someone important if I was there longer. Better I await a stranger, than hope they were waiting for me. But where would a village full of ponies have a divine alcoholic sanctuary for us mere mortals?
A pink pony stumbled past the library, holding a bottle in a paper bag and mumbling gibberish. Bingo. I eyed her projectory, made some calculations, adjusted for her odd gait, and peered into the distance.
Aha! There, just by the outskirts of town, was a rundown building with a drinking glass covered in salt as a neon sign. I began walking with a bright smile on my face, filled with happy thoughts. My thoughts turned sweet nectar and ambrosia, to alcohol, to the dragon I had met. I began humming a merry tune, adding a skip to my step. The sunlight was beautiful and warm on my back, and ponies were kind and shouted equally warm greetings.
I froze.
Did I just agree to go on a date with a dude?
I cocked my head and thought about that one for a moment. I never really, honestly, thought about it before. On one hand, I was a guy. On the other hand, I was technically a girl right now. I suppose wasn’t so bad, now that I thought about it. And that’s not even considering the whole interspecies issue. Can dragons and ponies—okay, now I was blushing.
I scrunched my muzzle, debating. Clicking my tongue, flicking my ears, I finally came to a consensus. I shrugged.
Ain’t nothin wrong with it.
