Disclaimer- All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Dedicated to Ghost: The host we love to hate to love and tolerate.
Chapter 1: True Capitalist
Ghost slammed his half empty beer bottle onto the table in rage.
“I am Goddamn sick and tired of you over feminised, fruit bowl ‘bronies’ phoning me up, okay!” he yelled down the microphone in frustration. “This is a serious show, assholes, and so help me God, If you phone this line one more Goddamn time, I will personally come to your house, beat your sorry ass, kick your dog, and drown your goldfish! YOU HEAR ME!” His face was turning purple from a mixture of aggravation and embarrassment. ‘What the hell do these people want from me?’ he thought sulkily. This was a serious radio show, and he got nothing but trollers, audio splicers and these freakin’ ‘Bronies’ calling in and making a damned fool of him. Constantly spamming him with stupid musical remixes of his voice, making Goddamned youtube videos of him sayin’ things he never said, and worst of all, accusing him of watching ‘My Little Pony: Friends are Adorable’ or some stupid shit. Well, he was just sick and tired of ‘em! They were all on his shit list! It was no wonder that America was being flushed down the crapper with douchbags like these around these days! Ghost removed his cowboy hat which he always wore without fail, and fanned himself with it. It was a boiling hot day, even for Texas standards, which was strange considering the fact that it was steadily approaching Christmas. “Get somebody else on the line, Goddamnit!” he called angrily in to the engineer, receiving a slurred mumble in reply. “Ok, who have we got here? (Jesus Christ.) ‘Equestria4thewin?’ You’re through to Radio Graffiti.” Ghost listened down the line at complete silence for a few seconds. “Okay, you’re taking too Goddamn long, for Christ’s sake. Who else we got...?” He was interrupted by a sudden burst of music from the other line.
‘You’re a mean one, Mr...’
The next word, ‘Ghost,’ had obviously been spliced into the song, replacing the word ‘Grinch’. Ghost’s anger exploded even before the first line had finished. ‘Every Christmas, EVERY FREAKIN’ CHRISTMAS’ he burst out, uncontrollably, ‘Some stupid sack of crap plays that shit! I’m not a GRINCH, GODDAMNIT!” he swung his fist to the side in blinding rage, knocking over a large pile of cans that had conveniently been stacked in a pyramid formation beside his desk. The cans fell clattering to the floor, the crushing sound of metal meeting wooden floorboards. “I just hate Christmas! Every freakin’ year I got stupid asshole family members mooching presents offa’ me, people who don’t give a crap about me all year long suddenly pretending to be my friends!” The Texan felt his eyes filling up. “When was the last time somebody bought me a Goddamn present? Never!” his voice cracked slightly. He blinked away tears and continued. “Well, I’m not doing this bullshit anymore, you hear me? Screw all you stupid Brony assnuggets, okay, ‘cos I’m outta here! I’m going on down to 6th street, right now!” He turned his mouth away from the microphone. “Engineer, let me outta’ here, for Christ’s sake!” The engineer removed his headphones and rose from the equipment he monitored, walking over to the door to the room which housed the angry Texan Capitalist. He twisted the bronze door knob, turning it one way, then the other.
“Huhmughuhnanana!” he called through the glass window.
“What the hell do you mean the door is jammed?” replied Ghost, somehow understanding the gibberish that the engineer had just mumbled.
“Mmmhunchnaganaga!”
“Goddamnit, engineer! Shove it up your ass!” he flung his hat off of his head and trampled it, jumping up and down upon it, swearing consistently. “Stupid Goddamned Bronies! Death to all Bronies, you hear me! This is all your fault, ya’ fruitbowls! Screw all of you! I’m gonna’...” he ceased his rant suddenly; his flushed red face twisted in confusion and horror. His breathing began to speed up, taking long, exasperated gulps, heaving heavily. His flailing arms instinctively grasped at his heaving chest, which felt as though it was burning up. “Huuuuuuhhhhh....huuuuuuuhhhh...” he gasped, sweat blinding him. He felt his heart fluttering around in his chest, beating uncontrollably and getting faster still.
‘Oh my God,’ he thought. ‘I’m having a heart attack.’
‘I’m going to die.’
‘I’m going to die.’
The engineer looked on helplessly through the small window in horror as Ghost began to stumble backwards and forwards in the small office, staggering blindly around the room and clutching his chest.
‘I’m going to die.’
‘Jesus Christ. I’m dying.’
Ghost suddenly felt extremely light, almost as though he was lighter than air. His eyes rolled back in his head as he felt himself falling backwards, directly into an awaiting pile of stacked cans, towering upwards toward the ceiling.
The last thing he saw was an avalanche of metal cans hurtling towards him.
And then...nothing.
We're Not In Texas Anymore
Chapter 2: We're Not In Texas Anymore...
Ghost awoke feeling like he had the worst hangover in the history of alcoholic fluids. Slowly he opened one bloodshot eye, then the other. Although his eyes were somewhat out of focus, he could tell that he was no longer in his Texan office. For one thing, he was outside, looking directly upwards, towards the sky.
And it was snowing.
“Jesus Christ...” he mumbled, dazed. “I’m dead.”
“I died and went to heaven. Good God!” Ghost’s whole body felt...wrong. Different, somehow. Like all of his limbs had somehow...changed. Must be what it feels like to be dead.
Ghost lay on his back for a few more minutes, unable to find the strength to push himself off the ground, and wasn’t even sure if he actually wanted to get up, anyway. He simply lay there in the cold, alone with his thoughts.
'How the hell did I die?'
'AM I dead?’
Ghost, still lying on the ground, meekly turned his head to the left and surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to be atop a rather large hill, layered with fresh snow. That was the only thing that stood out. Everything else below was flat and white, stretching over the horizon, as far as the eye could see.
‘Looks like heaven to me.’
A gentle winter breeze was blowing, carrying the snow across the flat plains. From the corner of his eye, Ghost saw his Texan cowboy hat being carried along by the breeze, tumbling and turning every so often.
"My hat!"
With an exhausted grunt, Ghost managed to shakily push himself off of the ground. His vision was still blurred, and he felt strangely unsteady on his feet. Staggering and swaying, he half ran, half fell over to his hat. The black leather cowboy hat was adorned with a fresh layer of pure white snow. It was strange, but...even though the snow was still white, it seemed so COLOURFUL. He didn’t know how to explain it. It just seemed...unnaturally white. With another grunt, Ghost bent down and picked up his hat.
He stopped short when he saw his hands.
Or rather, his hooves.
‘What in the hell....?’
Ghost was obviously dreaming. With a slight chuckle, he closed his eyes and kept them shut.
‘I’m jus’ dreaming, just a dream. That’s all. When I open my eyes, I’ll be safe in my own house. My hands will be back to normal. Ain’t nothin’ but a bad dream.’
Ghost opened his eyes.
He was not in his house.
His hands were still not back to normal.
It wasn’t a bad dream.
This was real.
With a strangled cry, Ghost spun around and kicked out his leg.
Or rather, back hoof.
"This shit aint’ funny!" he cried, terrified.
The Texan was scared, confused and alone. He managed to unleash his emotions in the only form he knew how.
Ghost raged.
"This ain’t even freakin’ funny! If this is a Goddamned dream, I wanna wake up, right now!" kicking up clumps of fresh snow with his hooves, he screamed and cursed and swore every vulgar word under the sun, (all of which are far too naughty to print here) gnashing his teeth and rolling his head furiously in circles.
Now, Ghost was no stranger to throwing the occasional psychotic fit of rage, but this time he was really going to town. Unfortunately, being the somewhat simple creature that he is, Ghost did not stop to think of the consequences resulting from throwing said psychotic fit of rage on top of a slippery, snow covered hill. He was still yelling obscenities even whilst he began to slide off the top of said hill, a consequence of wildly galloping around and kicking his hooves everywhere during said psychotic fit of rage. However, he had gotten himself so worked up that he was clearly oblivious to the fact he was even moving.
"...Goddamn piece of Communist, Hippie loving, Canadian sucking, fruit bowl, brony banging sack of shit!" he continued to swear (at whom he did not know) before he finally realised that he was tumbling head over hooves down a worrying steep slope. (The next few lines of his dialogue were mainly consisting of him screaming in panic as he picked up speed, so just imagine someone with a Texan accent praying to God in between panicked cries and its close enough.) However, the situation at hand was not nearly as bad as it seemed. After all, there was plenty of fresh, soft, snow at the bottom of the hill to break Ghost’s fall.
Unfortunately, however, he somehow managed to miss the comfort of the snow completely and ended his descent with an almighty THUMP, landing instead on a frozen lake, face first.
For the second time in the space of ten minutes, Ghost had managed to knock himself out. The last thing he saw before slipping out of consciousness was a blur of pink.
Chapter 3: Feeling Pinkie Mean
It was a glorious winter day in Equestria. The air was cool and brisk, the early morning sky bright and blue, and the fresh snow white and soft. Pinkamena Diane Pie was alone, ice skating on the frozen lake just outside of Ponyville. She liked it here: although she wasn’t as into nature as, say, Fluttershy was, she could still enjoy the privacy and isolation of the place. Even though she was a party pony at heart, sometimes all Pinkie wanted was a little alone time: just a few hours by herself to ponder on her own thoughts. That’s why she made sure to get up so early every day during the winter season; so she could come here and skate, spend a little time to herself. Pinkie did another 360 degree twirl on the ice, landing perfectly on all fours again. The pink earth pony let out a giggle. She was sure having fun! She missed this place when it came time for winter wrap up though. She wished she could have this quiet place, a place of her own, all year long. Still though, Pinkie had learnt to enjoy things whilst they last. Like every great party, nothing lasts forever. Why not just have fun whilst you have the chance? Pinkie stopped short suddenly, freezing in mid-jump. First of all, her tail twitched like crazy. Obviously her Pinkie sense was going haywire.
“Twitchy tail?” she mumbled. “Twitchy tail, twitchy tail, twitchy tail. Hmmm, that means something is going to...”
Pinkie was interrupted by a loud THUMP! as a hurtling object fell apparently out of the sky and onto the ice, not far from where she was standing. Then her ears began to flap, her back itched and her knees twitched. Pinkie counted each off on her hoof. “Hmmm... ear flap, itchy back, twitchy knees...? That’s a doozy!” With an excited gasp, Pinkie spun her legs furiously in circles for a few seconds, like in a cartoon, before propelling her off at great speed towards the unknown object.
**********************************************************************************
‘Hello? Hey, wake up!’
Mumbling incoherently, Ghost slowly rose his head. His ears were still ringing from the fall, stars and bright lights dancing before his eyes. And there was another larger shape looming over him, shifting and stretching through the brightness.
‘Hey! Get up, sleepy head!’
Ghost grumbled again, and shook his dazed head violently from side to side. Slowly, he raised his battered body off of the ground, trying to find balance on the marble- like ice. Every fibre of his being ached like hell, his bones creaking and groaning in protest to the movement.
Ghost placed a shaking hoof to his throbbing forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled aloud. “Where am I?”
“Well, duh!” came the same voice that had spoken previously. It sounded high pitched and female, with certain energy and hyperactive tone. Every word she spoke seemed to sprawl from her mouth in a single sentence, such was the speed of her speech. “You’re in Ponyville, silly!”
Ghost squinted his eyes at the dancing silhouette before him, (which had the unexplainable power to duplicate itself and merge simultaneously) which is where he assumed the voice was emanating from. The Texan gave his eyes another wipe with the back of his hoof. “I had the weirdest dream. I dreamt that I...” Ghost stopped the sentence short, the words of the unknown figure suddenly registering in his half dazed mind. “Wait, where did you say I was?”
“Ponyville, mister! I haven’t seen you before though, and I know EVERYPONY here in Ponyville, which means you must be...NEW!”
Ghost laughed quietly to himself. “Ya’ know, for a minute I...” The blurred image suddenly came into focus, Ghost’s eyes finally recovering from the fall, and what he saw scared the living shit out of him.
A bright pink pony stood a few inches away from him on the ice. She was on all fours, (each hoof adorned with an ice skate, apart from her front hoof which was bare and outstretched in greeting). Her pink mane was wild and bushy, much like her untamed tail. Both her eyes were blue in colour, opened wide in excitement. Her mouth was stretched into a wide (and slightly psychotic) grin. The mare stared Ghost up and down for a good few seconds.
And then she talked.
“Hi there!” she said in the same hyperactive tone, her left hoof still outstretched. “I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?”
Ghost screamed like a girl. “Jesus Christ!”
The pony laughed in reply. “Hahahaha! What a strange name! Pleased to meet you, ‘Jesus Christ!’ I’m Pinkie Pie!”
Ghost fell backwards in shock, landing on his backside. What the hell was going on? That pony freakin’ talked! His eyes were wide with terror and disbelief. “No!” he cried, backing away from the pink monstrosity. “Get the hell away from me! Get away!”
“Its okay!” replied ‘Pinkie Pie’. “I won’t hurt you. I want to be your friend! I’m EVERYPONIES FRIEND! Even Cranky Doodle Donkey!”
“NO! You’re not real! Get away!” With that, Ghost bolted from the pony, slipping under legs in a desperate bid for freedom. He stumbled and staggered on the thin glassy ice, his legs spinning uncontrollably in all directions. He could hear the Pink pony right behind him, skating to keep up with him.
“JESUS CHRIST, WAIT!” she yelled. “I JUST WANT TO BE FRIENDS!”
Gasping heavily, a very fatigued Ghost collapsed onto the hard ice, sliding for a few meters before coming to a rest near a mound of snow. “You can’t be real...” he heaved, “...Ponies can’t talk.”
Pinkie slid to a stop in front of the collapsed Ghost. “Why, of course we can, silly! I can talk, and you can talk too, Jesus Christ!”
“I ain’t no Goddamned pony, neither.” He stuttered.
“Why, sure you are! Look!” The pony pointed to the ice.
With sharp inhale, Ghost turned his gaze to the ice, where he caught sight of his reflection for the first time.
A light grey pony stared back at him. It’s eyes were wide and bloodshot, and its face and mouth were more squared in comparison to Pinkie's. And there, nestled on top of the light blonde mane, was a black cowboy hat.
It was undeniably his hat.
It was undeniably his reflexion.
“No,” he stuttered, the reflexion mouthing his every word. “No, no, no, no, no. Oh, please God, no. How did this...how did I...” Ghost, for the first time in his life, was quite literally lost for words. Still sprawled upon the ice, he suddenly threw his two front hooves down in rage on the ice. “Those Goddamn maniacs! They... they TURNED ME INTO A PONY! AH, DAMN THEM! GODDAMN THEM ALL TO HELL!” And then he began to sob.
Pinkie watched the colt sobbing on the ice below her. “Hey, why are you so sad?”
“F-F@*k you!” she received a sobbed reply.
“I know what will cheer you up...a song!” As if from nowhere, happy music began to play.
And then Pinkie began to sing.
“My name is Pinkie Pie,
And I am here to say,
I’m gonna make you smile,
And I will brighten up your day...”
Ghost stopped crying and looked up at the singing, dancing pony. She was prancing and hopping around the lake, a cheesy grin plastered on her goofy face. Now, Ghost had seen a lot of screwed up shit in his life, but a singing dancing colourful pink talking ice skating pony probably took the biscuit. It was so screwed up, in fact, that it almost hypnotised him for a few moments, so much so that all of his troubles seemed to, if only for a second, melt away.
Pinkie Pie continued singing. “I like to see you grin (awesome!)
I love to see you beam! (rock on!)
The corners of your mouth turned up,
Is always Pinkie’s dream!
Hoof Bump!”
Pinkie had her hoof outstretched in Ghost’s face, the blade of her ice skate resting against his nose.
“Hoof bump!”
Ghost said nothing, instead giving her a look of disbelief.
“Okay!” she continued with her song, the music magically starting up again.
“Yes, a perfect gift to me,
Is a smile as wide as a mile,
To make me as happy as can be,
Smile smile smile smile smile smile smile...”
“Shut the hell up you stupid bitch!” exploded Ghost, interrupting her.
Pinkie was taken aback by the sudden outburst. “Well, that’s not very nice. I think we need a song on how to speak to others...”
As quick as a flash, Ghost was up and holding Pinkie’s lips closed tightly with his hoof. “So help me God,” he growled menacingly, “If you sing one more Goddamned song, I will beat your sorry ass, kick your dog, and drown your goldfish. YOU HEAR ME!”
Pinkie managed to mumble, “I don’t have a dog or a fish. I have an alligator. His name is Gummy and...”
“I don’t give a crap. Now, listen very closely. I AM NOT FROM HERE. I DON’T BELONG HERE. AND I WANT TO GO HOME, RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW!”
“You mean you came from Ponyland? Caneighda? Where?” she replied, managing to free her lips from his grasp.
“No, I ain’t from...HERE. THIS WORLD. I don’t know what in the hell happened, but one minute I was in my office, the next I’m here. AS A PONY!”
Pinkie sighed matter-of-factly, “Oh, you mean you were from a different dimension when you were pulled through a rift in time and space, re-appearing in our world in a changed physical state?”
Ghost’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yeah, sure! Please, I need you to send me back home! Back to my world!”
“Oh ,I can’t do that!” she chirped happily.
“Why the hell not?”
“Cos! I just made that up, silly!”
Ghost narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. “I swear, this hoof is going in your mouth...”
“But,” she continued, “If you are lost and want to find your way back home, I’m sure Twilight can help! She’s super duper smart!”
“And where the hell is this, ‘Twilight?’” Ghost asked sceptically.
“Oh, she lives in the Ponyville library! She will want to meet you! Come on, Jesus Christ, follow me!” with that, she turned and bounced away, down a snow covered path which lead through the white plains and to a small dot in the distance, which was probably the ‘Ponyville’ this pink character was talking of. And while she bounced, she continued to chatter on. “And then we can have a welcome party! I can bake you a cake, because I work at the Sugarcube Corner Bakery, and we do really nice cupcakes by the way, and then we can play pin the tail on the pony, and the banner can say ‘Happy birthday, Jesus! (Even if it isn’t your birthday.) And then...”
Ghost watched the prancing pony disappear behind a mound of snow. He didn’t really trust her, nor did he trust himself. After all, he was probably still asleep. Or dead. Or drunk. Or maybe all three. Still, for the time being, sticking with the pony was the best bet of getting home just in case this was actually happening. With a sigh and a swear, Ghost the Texan pony stared off towards Ponyville.
