I’ve never been much of a planner. That’s probably why I’ve been in college for six years. Classes come, classes go. Some I pass, some I don’t. I can’t really count on myself to remember all the assignments.
There’s only one certainty in my life, one I didn’t even choose. The first and third Friday of every month, something happens that I can’t explain, and really shouldn’t talk about. People would think I’m crazy, or that I’ve been sneaking something out of the chemistry department for some sort of recreational ‘experiment.’
A small bang rattles the teeth in my skull, and I glance up at the clock. It’s quarter past eight; she’s right on time.
A small four legged creature, slightly bigger than a lap dog, walks through the room. She looks kind of like a miniature horse dipped in neon paint. Her coat is light purple, her mane and tail are a darker shade and streaked with pink. The strangest thing of all, of course, is that she can talk.
None of this is out of the ordinary to her. Not even her sudden, regular appearances in my apartment. Her silhouette briefly passes between me and the TV as she walks by.
“Hey, Jake.”
“Hey, Twilight.”
For a long time I didn’t talk to her at all. Three different therapists said that was an important first step. It didn’t help, though. Neither did all their mind-altering pills. No matter what sort of roller coaster ride they took my brain on, Twilight was always in the seat next to me.
The clink of glass bottles tells me she’s in the kitchen. The fridge is usually her first stop.
“Don’t you have anything vegetarian? It smells like a pizza factory in here.”
She can’t stand meat. Not even the smell of it. I actually convinced her to taste some bacon once, early on in her visits. She refused to help me clean up the mess on the kitchen floor that followed.
“Your stuff is in the left drawer on the bottom.”
I hear more things getting shoved around, and a few crunching sounds.
Finally she lands on the couch cushion next to me. A glass soda bottle floats into my waiting hand. I never touch anything stronger, that way I can’t blame nights like these on a drink.
I hear her bite into an apple as the bottle cap twists itself off of her soda. Even after years of her visits, I still don’t understand how hooves can be so dexterous. She doesn’t have fingers, how is she holding onto that apple?
A second apple floats through the air in a glowing cloud of purple and drops into my lap. I suppose I should’ve mentioned her magic sooner. It might sound extraordinary, but to me it’s all become somewhat mundane. Four years of talking to a physical impossibility will do that to you.
“So, what’s on TV tonight? Is the season finale out yet?”
The unicorn horn on her forehead briefly glows, and the TV station changes. I made the mistake of touching it once. It was like sticking a finger in an electrical outlet, followed by getting beaten with a club. Don’t anger a creature with four blunt appendages that values personal space.
“Can’t we just watch some football tonight?”
“Those games are boring, and they take way too long. We need to check up on what your world left out of the past two week’s episodes.”
“Isn’t watching a show about yourself kind of… narcissistic?”
“Of course not, this is important scientific…”
I tune out the rest. This is a well worn argument that I never win. Instead I drum my fingers against my soda bottle and watch the TV do its magic dance. Twilight can make any show come on, commercial free. I keep trying to convince her to let me stop paying for the cable entirely, but she won’t hear of it.
“… which is why I make these visits on a regular basis.”
Fizzy sugar water pours out of her bottle and, moments later, decorates my shirt. “Blegh! Diet? Seriously?”
“They were out of the regular kind.”
“Ugh, great. You wouldn’t believe the week I was having already, and now I’m stuck with diet soda?”
I sigh and wipe the spit off my apple. “Let’s just get this over with.”
I can almost hear her eyes roll. “You should be happy about this; it’s a cute show, kind of.”
“More like a lame show.”
“Oh come on, is all of that ‘reality TV’ junk you’re always watching when I show up better than this?”
“At least regular TV is about more than friendship; that’s all you and your friends ever talk about.”
“Well duh, it’s in the subtitle.” She raises her hooves to make quotes. “ ‘Friendship is Magic’ and all that. Not that they ever show the whole story, obviously.”
She crosses her hooves as the show starts. The theme song starts playing, and she taps her hoof against the couch in time with the music. “So, notice anything different?”
“No, the opening song is always the same. Can’t we just skip it?”
“Not that, about me.”
“Isn’t it always about you?”
She puts a hoof against her face. “Well I don’t know what else to talk about. Whenever we talk about your life you get mad.”
“That’s because you keep trying to organize everything for me. I’m not letting a cartoon character plan out my life.”
“You should’ve been thanking me for that. Maybe if you got your act together you’d have a special some… wait, what does your kind call them again?”
“Girlfriend?”
“Yeah, that.”
“How am I going to explain that a horse—”
“Pony.”
“… that a pony from a kid’s show visits me twice a month?”
“It’s not just a kid’s show, adults watch it too.”
“I know, I know. Why don’t you visit one of them? They’d probably make you their queen or something.”
Her pink tongue sticks out for a moment and she shuts her eyes. “No thanks.”
“Why not? Your show’s bigger than ever.”
“They wouldn’t understand… the show they’re all addicted to isn’t the whole story.”
“You always say that.”
“Well it’s true. They cram it all into twenty minutes; important stuff gets left out all the time.”
“Like what?”
“Ugh… Where do I start? Did you know that Spike and Rarity have been dating for six months? Things are cooling down now, but anything could happen.”
“Which one is Rarity again?”
The TV switches off and she knocks her head against the couch cushion “See, this is why I don’t get into the details.”
“Wait, I think I remember now… isn’t Spike just a kid?”
“Not really, he’s just small for his age. Dragons grow differently, especially when magic’s involved.”
“But on the show—”
“He acts like I kid, I know. It’s insulting how they cut out all the mature things he says. Not that you care.”
“Plenty of people out there do, you could be telling them instead of me.”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute. I’ve probably upset her again. It happens every few months, usually when I actually take an interest in that show of hers.
“Notice anything different about me tonight?”
Most of the time I don’t actually look at her. Staring just makes her uncomfortable anyway. All the same, I take my eyes away from the now half-empty bottle in my hand and look at my unlikely guest.
Feathers. That’s what I see. In addition to the horn, she’s sporting a pair of wings. “How long have those been there?”
“Just got them.”
“How…”
“Long story. The short version is that I’m a princess now. It’s probably covered on one of the episodes that we’re supposed to be watching tonight.”
“Your fans must love that.”
“That’s why I visit you instead.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t watch the show; you don’t even care. You wouldn’t have even noticed the wings for months.”
“You say all that like it’s a good thing.”
“It is, for me.”
She takes a long drink of her soda and, thankfully, doesn’t spit it out. “Jake, I’m getting more and more popular, and I don’t like it. Besides, all the people in your world that watch the show are kind of…”
“Weird?”
“Misguided. It’s like they’re reading every third page in a history book and guessing the rest, and then those stories that they write… ugh.”
“Stories?”
“Fictional stories about my world. Some of them are okay, I guess. But then there’s the weird stuff, like all of my best friends dating each other, or being completely perfect, or completely awful, or… forget it. You don’t even want to know how much of it is about… you know… where foals come from.”
She’s silent again.
I hold out the apple she brought me. “Want it?”
She turns away and lays on the couch. “No thanks. I’m not hungry anymore.”
We sit there for a while. Since she didn’t want the apple, I start eating it. It tastes bland after the soda, but it’s better than just watching her sulk.
She slides off the couch and walks toward the hallway.
“I guess I should go. We’ll do episode catch-up next time.”
For once my personal demon is leaving early and, to my great surprise, it bothers me.
“Hey, Twilight Sparkle.”
For the first time in years she looks directly at me. Her eyes are strange and, to me, a little unsettling. They have these permanent white spots, like lens flares that never go away. Plus her pupils are huge; two giant pools of black ringed by purple.
“Yes, Jake?”
“Twilight, why don’t you stay a little longer?”
“Why?”
All I can do is shrug my shoulders. “There’s more soda in the fridge, more apples too. We can have a marathon, if you want.”
“You don’t like the show.”
“You don’t either.”
She smiles. “Want to know what really happened after my coronation? I guarantee the joke Rainbow Dash made isn’t showing up on a kid’s show, and you wouldn’t believe how many donuts Pinkie ate.”
I rest my head on my hands and nod. I’m still not completely sure I want to know, but I’m about to find out.
Author's Note
The story continues here: Friday Night Twilight II
