How Not to Mistreat Your Waifu
His hand felt more like a hoof or claw: it was so stiff that even his eyes now hurt from crying. The only reason that his tears seemed to stop was that . “How did I get into this mess,” he whined to himself for the thirteenth time in what was probably closer to a minute than the week it felt like.
How Had it Happened:
Tired and depressed from his early morning work-shift, the young man trudged through the door . It was only a few hours before he had to pick up his daughter, and he needed to eat and unwind.
With a sigh he turned on his pony-filled iTunes channel and stretched his back muscles in preparation to microwave a bland frozen dinner.
He looked at the beginnings of the weekly wreck in the family room and decided to permit himself no more than an hour of Equestria Daily reading.
He chuckled at the new thread, “How Not to Mistreat Your Waifu.” His thoughts naturally turned towards Pinkie Pie. What would she do if he actually proclaimed his love for her? For a moment he lost himself in the daydream. Sure, other people had dealt with Pinkie, but their comics did not represent his very close and special relationship with her.
The seeds of inspiration seemed to float right out of his grasp, so he printed out the chart of how to treat Pinkie Pie.
After five minutes he had tried looking at the chart at every direction but still hadn't achieved inspiration yet. With a sigh he decided to skip the conversation bubbles and just go to the illustrations.
Clearly, with panel three, “pet her,” Pinkie would be coming out of the page. That would be the easiest to start since he could just plop a 3-D sprite over the end picture.
After about 8 tries he still wasn't happy at all with his attempts to draw her fluffy cotton candy-like hair. His previous attempts just wouldn't do. With a sigh he was about to give up when he decided that he'd give her that straight hair that he really liked. “Yeah,” he stated looking at the picture he started with, “That's more like it! It's so good I can almost see her coming out of the picture already!”
He took another look at the paper and shook his head. These tough shifts must have been getting to him. It couldn't be that the picture was really bulging like that.
He put his eye to the table to dispel the illusion, but the optical illusion was real – and it was moving as if something was caught inside!
As he slowly maneuvered his hand to poke at the paper, a pink form exploded from the panel. Instinctively he caught the football sized ball of energy.
A sigh escaped his lips, as his fingers brushed against the pony's skin. She felt better than he had expected. For some reason he thought that the ponies would feel like suede, but they actually felt more like silken chocolate mousse for the hands.
Pinkie whinnied in delight at the petting. The brony couldn't resist petting her again and again. But after only ten minutes the sheer delight wore off enough for him to turn to work.
He put the tiny pony down and her hair fluttered down with a cute but rude noise. He smiled to himself, finding it amazing how perfectly similar she was to the show's depictions.
However, he was a dutiful husband and began to pick up the toys from the previous night.
After throwing a doll that had gotten applesauce all over her hair into the tub, he saw a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye.
Pinkie was holding the Chef's knife, which would have been silly (it was as long as she was, and her hooves just weren't meant for holding such unwieldy things) but she had 'cide in her eyes. He wasn't sure if it was suicide or homicide but she was neighing darkly to herself about something.
“All right, I'll keep petting you.” he pleaded, “Just don't hurt anybody.”
She didn't seem to understand, so he mimed petting, and with her hair exploding into it's normal chaotic state, she jumped into his lap. He wondered where the knife went, but started to pet her as promised.
An hour passed, and his petting started to slow, when the knife popped out of nowhere, nearly slicing his thumb off. He resumed petting her with renewed desperation-fueled vigor.
He glanced at the clock and nearly dropped Pinkie; it was a half-hour before pick up and he couldn't drive like this. In fact he didn't want his daughter anywhere near this Pinkie. With his remaining hand he dialed a parent of one of the kids at school, (he didn't really care which) “Could you pick up Samantha today, something,” he glanced at the utterly content pink pony he was petting and tried to keep his voice from squeaking in terror, “has come up.”
His sigh of relief at the positive response caused Pinkie's ear to twitch towards him, and he redoubled his petting.
By the time his wife arrived from work, his hand felt raw against the pony's hide. “Dear,” the brony began to try to explain, “run.”
She made her best intention to murder him only using her eyes, “Why are you petting . . . HER?”
Clearly she knew who her true rival was.
Taken aback by his wife's outburst the brony's hand slipped off of it's assigned task. Instantaneously the knife flashed threateningly between the two.
As he resumed the massage, the brony did his best to chirp, “I don't think she understands English, so run while you can. And if you would get help?”
He didn't know if she understood the half-request because she was already half-way in her car when he finished.
He resumed focusing on his chore, now feeling its full similarity to Sisyphean tasks.
Hours passed and he began to despair of making it through the night without bloodshed as his hand cramps gained hand cramps of their own.
Right about when his wife would usually be going to bed, a family friend (who happened to also be a police officer) walked through the still open door to their house.
“Thank Celestia you're here,” the half-deleterious brony told the officer. “she keeps pulling out a knife whenever I stop petting her.”
The officer stared at Pinkie Pie with poorly contained envy in his eyes. “She is real. I hadn't believed.”
He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket upon which was drawn a picture of the mane 6 sans Pinkie, “This should work.”
The brony stopped petting Pinkie and she glared towards him, but instead of seeing the man who should pet her, she saw the picture of her friends. Her eyes softened, and the knife fell from her hooves, only slicing harmlessly through the brony's pants leg.
Both men held their breaths as Pinkie leaped into the picture. They allowed themselves a sigh of relief before burning the picture and burying the ashes underneath a rock.
After a quick call to his wife, she returned with their daughter. “Couch.” was the only thing that she said to him and he accepted the decree with equanimity.
Months later:
With a sigh he looked at his life. Fortunately he didn't lose his job, but he no longer had the heart to contest that he was unfaithful to his wife, so he lost his house, all but visitation rights with his daughter and any chances of ever making up with his wife.
The only thing left for him to do was to write up his story to publish on fimFiction.
After a slapdash composition filled with grammar mistakes and an annoyingly whiny first person perspective, he wrote down the morale of the story:
Its kind of dis-turboing the assumption that anypony would just axe-kept you as a hubs-band. After awl, watt presumably attracts you to these Char-actors is that they feel reel. Perhaps a more balanced ap-roach to the madder would be more re-snowball. And really you ought to be car-full what you wish for.
He looked over his morale and frowned. Quickly he highlighted it and deleted it, replacing it with the much more reasonable morale: “Stay away from Pinkie Pie, she's my waifu.”
Headcannon 34,236 revision 3
Pinkie Pie was still depressed since that time that she disappeared for nearly a full day.
However that didn't rid Equestria from the terrible challenge ahead.
Applejack stated for the fifteenth time, “I sure hope Celestia ain't trolling us with this.”
Twilight nodded, “All right, Discord you're the new Pinkie Pie! Let's take care of this threat!”
“This won't end well.” Discord stated with a mischievous grin.
After a few mishaps they proved him wrong.
The end
Author's Note
(Sorry, this story came to me in a flash and I don't feel like editing it as much as I will future stories.)
I hope that this gently pokes fun at ourselves. I apologize if ~~anypony~~ anybody feels that I wasn't gentle in poking fun. You all are fantastic.
As for me, Pinkie is just my BFF (BaiFFu if you insist).