The Curious Case of the Metamorphosis of Joseph Booth or How One Learned to Stop Hating Being Human and Instead Learned to Love Being a Pony

by Dashea Rayne

Rating: everyone
Tags: Romance, Adventure
Length: 7471

A man find a life awaiting him

Joseph Booth is a man who goes about his day, never altering, never wavering. But when he wakes up one morning with a weird feeling, he soon finds his life turned upside down and himself set upon a path that may set in motion events he has only seen in a cartoon.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-07 04:30:56 UTC

Chapter 1

“That was an interesting narrative,” the younger of the two Watcher ponies commented.

As he showed deference to his master, he watched the glowing orb that hung between the two of them displayed the three known as the Cutie Mark Crusader’s embarking on yet another adventure in their quest to obtain their Cutie Marks. Soon the images in the orb changed and began showing the ones called Celestia and Luna talking.

Listening as the sisters spoke on how they got their Cutie Marks and what happened to the book that had brought about their ascension, the younger Watcher pony eventually asked, “So what has this to do with ripples?” as he thought about why he had originally approached his elder, wanting to learn further about magick ripples and the havoc they could play, both on the seen and the unseen world.

His concentration focusing, the two sisters vanished and a violet coloured Unicorn pony with five stars circling a sixth for a Cutie Mark appeared. A look of wonder on her face, she held in a purple aura a book before her. Flipping through the book and stopping on a particular page, a look of seriousness replaced the first as she intoned, “From one to another, another to one. A mark of one's destiny singled out alone, fulfilled.”

“Magick cast in the past can have effects that carry far into the future,” the elder explained as the orb changed.

Now, instead of the violet coloured Alicorn attempting to undo the spell the Cutie Mark Crusaders had cast that had morphed them into one, there now stood an Alicorn with an orange and red mane, eyes that were a moderate cyan shading and a Cutie Mark that showed a sun that was split in both the interior, by what looked like a yin-yang symbol on its side, and the exterior, which was half red, half yellow.

The orb darkening, the younger of the two Watcher ponies waited and after a moment, his elder explained, “But magick cast can have far reaching outcomes then just with the future,” and in the orb two ponies, who the younger Watcher pony knew to be the parents of the violet coloured Alicorn, appeared. And as the two Unicorns smiled at something, the elder Watcher pony intoned, “But what if a spell was meant to be cast? What if by being cast, it not only changed the present and the future, creating an alternate time line, it set in motion things in the past that needed to be?”

Confused, the younger Watcher pony shook his head, commenting, “I don’t understand.”

“That is understandable, for one so young as yourself, brave enough to broach such a deep subject,” the elder Watcher pony replied and concentrating, a magical light, yellowish-green aura coming off him and causing the orb to change, he said, “Watch. And maybe you may learn something else that can help you in furthering your understanding.”

“Timing is critical,” he thought to himself as he stood on the flat roof overlooking the sea of buildings around him.

Considering how thankful it was that all the buildings were the same height as his, if not a story or two lower, he gazed up as a storm began building. Satisfied, he glanced quickly at the television, which was playing a repeat of the final episode of season three of a popular children’s cartoon that he knew was more than most people thought it was, and bending down, he began drawing shapes on the roof, making sure as he did that the TV was in the exact centre.

The storm building, the man peered upward and closing his eyes, letting the wind blow over his young face, he forced himself into a state of calmness, reminding himself that he may look young, but he was well over a thousand years old and there was no point in hurrying. Turning his attention back to the television, he watched as Twilight Sparkle hugged her friends and announced that she knew what she had to do. Raising his arms, waiting for just the right moment, the man prayed that everything would work out the way it was supposed to.

When the lightening flickered closer and the purple unicorn began reading the spell a second time, the man felt a calmness descend upon him as he himself began to chant. Everything around him taking a quality of being slowed down, the man focused his attention completely on the television, finishing just as Twilight said,  “…there is magic without end!”

A bolt of lightening struck the roof in the middle of his drawn incantations, he didn’t flinch when the TV exploded in a hellacious mess, but instead watched as something only he could see rose up from the spot were the obliterated television had been sitting and shoot off across the city. Nodding, as if satisfied, he muttered, “The paradox is begun,” before turning away and walking toward a door that would take him back downstairs to his loft.

Stopping on the landing just inside the doorway, he peered down at the four-legged figure standing at the foot of the stairs. As the rain began outside, washing away all that he’d drawn on the roof, the man regarded the figure a moment before saying, “I’ve done my part and helped you as much as deemed. Be off with you. None shall see you as you search for the one you came here for,” while the thunder rumbled louder and lightening split the sky and illuminated the stairwell for a moment, revealing something spreading its wings upward.

Everything going black, tiny motes of light dancing before his eyes, the man didn’t have to wait for his vision to return to know his unexpected visitor had already left, taking to the sky the moment he was able to do so. Shutting the door to the roof, he briefly contemplated over whether he had done the right thing, but shrugging, figuring it could be helped, the man decided he had other matters to attend too as he started downstairs.

Staring up at the ceiling, sleep still heavy in his eyes, Joseph felt like something was off. Outside his bedroom window he could hear the normal morning noises of the city as horns blared, sirens screamed and an air hammer went to work on either a piece of sidewalk or a chunk of the roadway. The common litany of voices of people going about their morning could also be heard, but fainter as the other noise drowned out most of them. Turning over on his side to stare at the alarm clock, which displayed time as being ten minutes before he knew the alarm would go off, he didn’t find anything wrong there, as he usually woke up ten to fifteen minutes before the alarm went off, like he’d been doing since he’d been about eleven, twelve or thirteen.

“So why does something feel off?” Joseph asked himself as he reached over, shut the alarm on the clock off and sitting up, gazed about his room as the last bit of sleep left his vision.

The normal sight of his austere bedroom greeted him and looking at the plain and simple dresser, the closed closet door that had nothing stored in it and the three pictures on the wall, each depicting his mother and father, smiling for the camera, but at the same time appearing rather severe, Joseph Booth stood and stretched, the last bit of sleep leaving him as he did so.

Leaving the bedroom, he headed down the hall and stepped into the bathroom. Shedding the pyjama bottoms he was wearing, he deposited them into a white laundry basket and turning on the shower, he didn’t even wait for the water to warm up before stepping in. Shivering under the cold water, he reached for the bottle of shampoo and squeezing a dollop out, he began to wash himself, starting with his hair and working his way down.

The feeling that something was off didn’t leave him as he finished with his shower, ten minutes exactly, dried himself off and with a towel wrapped around his waist, he returned to his bedroom to dress in the usual attire of boxers, a button-up shirt, a pair of slacks and a pair of loafers. Heading for the kitchen, also austere in appearance as the only thing on the counters was a breadbox and a microwave that, like the gas cooker, didn’t display the time. Fetching from one of the cupboards a bowl, spoon and a box of cereal, he poured some of the organic oat mix into the bowl, returned the cereal to the cupboard and splashing some milk on his breakfast, Joseph sat down to eat.

Slowly eating his breakfast, he tried to shake the feeling that something was off, but unable to, he began looking about the kitchen, wondering what could be off. Seeing nothing, and not able to come to any reasonable conclusion, he figured it was nothing and finishing his breakfast, he grabbed his house keys and head out, where, down on the first floor, he greeted, as he did every morning, the elderly woman who had the apartment below his.

Glaring at him, Miss Pindershloff seemed to withdraw into herself and curious why she was acting like this, Joseph was about ask if everything was all right when the woman suddenly spat out, “You the S O B that been stealing my pension cheques?” in such a venomous tone, Joseph found himself wondering if something was truly the matter with the woman.

Instead of voicing his mind, he smiled and told, “No, Miss Pindershloff. It’s me, Joseph Booth. I have the apartment above yours,” and seeing the confusion written on her face, he added, “You used to teach and I had you for a teacher from kindergarten until sixth grade.”

“I’ve never seen you in my life,” Miss Pindershloff spat and making a motion to go around him, she added, “And I certainly never taught no snot nosed brats,” and pressing the lift call button, she started to mumble, “Says he lives in the apartment above me,” “Probably a liar as well as a thief,” “Someone should report him to the manager,” as she did so.

Confused, fearing for the elderly woman’s health, Joseph almost approached her, but deciding not to, he cast one final glance at Miss Pindershloff before exiting the building. Outside, he let the Manhatten midsummer morning heat, which had already burned away any signs of the storm from the previous evening, and noise wash over him as he attempted to put to the back of his mind Miss Pindershloff’s behaviour, as well as the feeling that something was off. Almost giggling nervously, Joseph thought to himself, “Something is off kilter. But it isn’t with me,” as he felt a sense of calm come over him before he started his walk to work.

He could have taken a hack, which he often did in winter, or even bought a bicycle, but something about walking left Joseph with not only a sense of doing something right, but also a sense of freedom. It was just something off about owning a car or even driving one that kept him from getting a driver’s licence. And after several blocks, avoiding as much of the morning traffic as he could, he stopped into the same convenience store he always stopped in, greeted the man behind the counter, who warmly greeted him back and didn’t act as if he’d never seen Joseph Booth before.

Walking quickly to the coolers in the back, he peered at the selection of sodas, all twelve ounce bottles as the city had outlawed anything larger, and not seeing any of the glass bottle options, he called out, “You no longer carry the soda in the glass bottles?”

At the front of the store, the man behind the counter finished with the customer he was dealing with before turning his attention to Joseph. A puzzled expression coming over his face, he explained, “We have never sold any pop in glass bottles. At least not since I began working here. Maybe when my father ran the store, yes. But now, no.”

Feeling the man was putting him on, Joseph decided not to press the point and instead choose from one of selections of plastic bottles, figuring the horrible taste of the plastic leaching into the syrupy concoction would probably keep him from drinking it in one day. Taking his choice up to the front of the counter, Joseph paid for the beverage, thanked the man behind the counter and exited the convenience store.

Outside, he once again paused and twisting the cap off the soda, he took a sip, but nearly spit out. His tongue hanging out, a disgusted look on his face, he glared at the offensive concoction, curious as to how badly the plastic might have tainted the beverage. After a couple seconds, he twisted the cap back and wondering about something, he turned the bottle on its side and located the ingredients label.

Looking for three letters, he had no idea what they stood for, Joseph was instead surprised to find that the soda had no high fructose corn syrup, which he normally didn’t drink, and instead contained a sweetener called aspartic fructose syrup. Nearly nauseated by how sweet the drink was and how disgusting it tasted, he saw a kid in his teens and handing the drink to the kid, not saying a word as he did so, Joseph turned and walked back into the convenience store.

At the counter, the clerk greeted him and asked, “Is anything the matter?” but ignoring this question, Joseph walked to the coolers and opening one, began examining the various sweetened beverages.

Not finding a single containing either sugar or high fructose corn syrup, he closed the cooler he had opened and as if watching himself from a great distance, he walked back to the front of the store. As he approached the counter, the clerk asked again, “Is anything the matter?” and glancing at the familiar face that had greeted him since he started coming to this store years ago, Joseph struggled for a moment, the feeling that something was off growing so bad he thought he was suffering from a weird form of déjà vu combined with vertigo.

After a moment, he noticed the concerned look on the attendant’s face and smiling in a friendly manner, Joseph asked, “When did they replace high fructose corn syrup with this aspartic fructose syrup? And when did they go back on using sugar for select sodas?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” the clerk told him, the concerned look on his face growing as he nodded toward the coolers and added, “So far as I now, they stopped using sugar in beverages and certain foods back in the nineteen seventies because it not only cost to much, but the tax demanded was ridiculous. As for high fructose corn syrup, I have never heard of it. Is it supposed to be a new type of sweetener? People have certainly complaining that the aspartic causes a hell of lot of health concerns.”

Nodding as if he knew what the clerk was talking about, Joseph replied, “That they have,” and shaking his head, he said, “Never mind about the high fructose corn syrup,” and waving, he exited the convenience store.

Back outside, he continued on his way to work. Lost in thought, walking without really paying attention where he was going as he knew where he worked and had walked toward the television station so many times he could probably do it in his sleep, Joseph let his mind wander. Mentally, he went over how he’d awoken with a feeling like something was off and how he’d first run into Miss Pindershloff and how she didn’t seem to know him followed by the weird change in sweetener used in soda.

Unable to draw a connection between the odd events, Joseph wondered if maybe he had read an article or heard somewhere about high fructose corn syrup being phased out, but disregard the notion immediately when he remembered what the clerk at the convenience store had said. Stopping in the lobby of the station, it suddenly dawned on Joseph that he didn’t even know the convenience store clerk’s name, as he had never asked or had seen it printed on the shirt the clerk wore and finding this for some reason funny, Joseph was able to put out of his mind, for he moment, the feeling that something was off as he took the elevator up, where he was greeted by his boss, Prescott Black, who greeted Joseph as he had done every morning with the simple words, “You’re late.”

Knowing he wasn’t and was in fact early, Joseph bid his boss good morning and headed for his office as Prescott turned his attention back to the employee he’d been yelling at before Joseph had disembarked the lift. Inside his office, Joseph set to work, doing the same job he had been doing for the past twenty some years that involved a lot of paperwork and, in the end, a vote in the decision on whether a programme would remain on air or be axed at the end of the season.

He hated television. Had always hated it. He considered about ninety nine percent of the broadcasts out there to be puerile, lowbrow, most poorly scripted and considered most of the actors and actresses to be two-bit flunkies who should be looking for better work. When he had first gotten his job at the television station, Joseph had figured that maybe he could change the way television was viewed, as well as the intellectual level of the shows. This goal offering him a challenge, and reason to stick with the same job, he had stayed working for the same studio for nearly twenty years.

But, in this, he hadn’t succeeded. In all the years that he had worked for the television studio, the best he had been able to do was rise to a position where he had an executive say in what show the studio would continue to run and which programme the studio would cancel.

Buttoning the final button on his shirt, Joseph continued ruminating about his career choice, finding it a welcome distraction to the feeling that something was off, which had been a persisting sensation that had been nearly driving him crazy for the past three days. Slipping his wallet into his pocket, he exited his bedroom, thinking about the shows he had a decision in cancelling and the choices he had to make to keep certain programmes on the air.

Most of the shows he had voiced be left on had been programmes that Joseph felt showed some level of intelligence or had some hidden positive message, most of those being cartoons. He considered his biggest success keeping the television station from cancelling My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, a cartoon that Joseph enjoyed and felt actually taught something to people, despite the fact that Preston Black and a couple others were opposed to it and kept putting in votes that it wasn’t a cartoon that didn’t hold any message the studio wished to present.

“Whatever that is,” Joseph thought to himself as he sat down to eat his usual breakfast, thinking, as he did so, about the marathon of MLP: FiM an opposing studio was going to be running for about six or seven days.

Curious to know what order the channel would be airing the episodes in and if, like he had heard, that it was every episode ever made, plus a premiere of a couple clips from the upcoming season, Joseph also pondered over whether the other studio would be running any other versions of My Little Pony, hoping they would show episodes from G1 as he finished his breakfast.

His mind on the upcoming marathon, Joseph didn’t even bother trying to greet Miss Pindershloff, who glared at him and hugged the bag of groceries she was carrying closer as he came down the stairs and passed the elderly woman in the lobby. Outside the apartment complex, Joseph automatically began walking the familiar he took to work, passing the convenience store, as he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to purchase from it. As he shouldered his way through the teeming masses of people, skirted traffic and avoided areas where the city had decided to tear up the sidewalk, but hadn’t done anything more with the holes they had left behind, Joseph found his train of thought shifting as he began once again dwelling on the feeling that something was off.

Reaching the television studio, he entered the lobby, greeted the two security guards who say behind the large desk in the main reception area, didn’t pay it any mind when they just stared at him like they had never seen him before and making his way towards the bank of elevators, Joseph pushed past the people waiting for the next lift and instead headed for the stairs, which he always took up to the fifteenth floor. The usual clamour of noises greeting him, including Preston Black normal morning tirade as he laid into someone, Joseph greeted his boss, who completely ignored him and continued to ream out the unfortunate intern who looked like he would rather be someplace else.

“Suppose there is a first time for everything,” Joseph figured as he headed for his office, slightly perturbed by the fact that Preston hadn’t even stopped in his rant long enough to tell him that he was late, “As he usually does.”

Booting up the computer on his desk, not paying the least bit of attention to the fact that his desk was now bare and the few pictures he’d hung on the walls were missing, Joseph waited for the familiar logo of the television studio to appear and typing in his user name and password, he was dismayed when the message USER NAME AND PASSWORD INVALID popped up. Thinking he had hit a wrong key, Joseph retyped the information, but was once more greeted by the same message. Frustrated, he tried again and when he got the same icon, he stood and marching back out of his office, headed over to where Preston Black was now laying into some other employee.

People staring at him as he made his across the floor, Joseph found it strange that the looks on their faces plainly stated that they had never seen him before. Yeah, he did consider them nothing more than co-workers, never acquaintances or friends. And if one of them had offered him the option of joining them after work for a beer or to take in a sporting event, he had always politely turned them down. But to stare at him as if they did recognise him was baffling, as he had worked next to many of these people for years.

Approaching his boss, trying not to let the stares bother him, Joseph was prepared to wait until Preston Black turned his attention away from the employee he was laying into. What he wasn’t for was Preston to round suddenly and glaring at him, demanded, “Well? What do you want?”

“I’m having problem with my login information,” Joseph stated, refusing to let Preston Black’s bullying tendencies to overcome him.

Glaring, apparently sizing Joseph up, Preston eventually snarled out, “Never seen you before in my life. You sure that you work here and not some competitor from a rival station, come here to steal information?”

Flustered, but refusing to show the man how he felt, Joseph dug his feet and stated, “”I’ve worked for this station for twenty years. I am not just some competitor from a rival station, even though you treat all on the floor as such. The fact that I have a user name and password should prove it,” and switching gears, Joseph declared, “And if you shall do nothing about the problems I am having with punching in, I’ll take my problems to the IT people up on seventeen. Or, failing that, I’ll go higher, all the way up to the forty ninth floor.”

A look of contempt and disgust appearing Preston Black’s face, for a moment he continued to glare at Joseph before snapping out, “Fine, whatever. Go back to whatever office or desk you work from and I’ll sort it out. But know this, if I find out you don’t work here, like I believe, you shall be escorted from the building in handcuffs and this station will charge you with, among other charges, corporate espionage,” and turning away from Joseph, he barked out at the employee he’d been chewing out, “We’re done, for now,” before making his way across the floor and towards the row of elevators, yelling at people as he went.

Watching this, Joseph suddenly felt ill as he thought about the strange behaviour of his downstairs neighbour. Struggling to find a connection between the way Miss Pindershloff was acting, how Preston Black had reacted to him and the feeling that something was off, Joseph turned and quickly made his way back to his office. Noticing finally that the few decorations he’d used in his office were missing, Joseph stood for a moment in the doorway, aware that several people were staring at him from their desks out on the floor. Feeling like he was sinking into some nightmare that he couldn’t wake from, Joseph slowly walked to his desk and without sitting down, again tried his password.

When he got the same message again, Joseph turned away from it and staring out the window in his office, feeling his frustration growing, mentally cursing the machine, he eventually decided to give it one more try, “But only in about five minutes,” he reasoned, figuring this would give Preston Black enough time to get to the bottom of why his user name and password were invalid.

A nagging feeling settling over him as he stared out the window, Joseph soon began wondering if his boss had indeed gone to discover the reason for why Joseph couldn’t punch in. But weighing it with the fact that he knew Preston Black and how the man hated people who were late nearly as much as he despised people who couldn’t do their job because of a piece of temperamental machinery, Joseph forced himself to calm down as he told himself that his boss had gone to figure out the issue with Joseph’s user name and password.

“Not because he actually believes me to be someone from another station,” he thought as he turned away from the window and figuring he’d waited long enough, Joseph leaned down and typed in his information to punch in.

When the same message popped up on the screen yet again, Joseph stepped back from the desk and looking wildly about his office, he felt a cold fear coming over him. Stepping hurriedly around the desk and out of his office, he gazed around the office floor, taking in the familiar faces that now stared at him as if he was a stranger. Turning away from them, he began making his way slowly toward the stairway he’d used to reach the fifteenth floor.

As he approached it, he passed a large group of people and turning to ask them if they had ever had a problem with punching in, he stopped. The acid in his stomach rolling, making him nauseas, Joseph stared at the back of his boss, who was now accompanied by two security guards Joseph only knew by name. Now wanting to be detained, as he was sure that was what Preston Black intended by bringing with him security officer Robert Caine and security officer Pete Lairdman, Joseph quickly turned and almost dashed towards the stairs but instead forced himself into a state of control and acting like he still belonged, he casually made his way to the stairwell.

Down on the ground floor, which was not quite as crowded as it had been when Joseph had first arrived, he peered in the direction of the front desk. There, he could see security officer Kirby Jackson talking on a phone as his partner, security officer Stanley, scanned the crowds getting off the lifts. Thinking how much he had always gotten along with the two and how much he had liked listening as Stanley compare himself to an older Hugh Hefner and the way Kirby always regaled people with his tale of how he’d once crashed four weddings at once, Joseph found it doubtful that they would be welcoming to him if he tried to exit through the main doors. Turning away before either saw him, he quickly made his way to the rear of the building.

Slipping out one of the delivery doors, Joseph paused in the alleyway, wondering what he should do. He was certain that it was safe to assume that he no longer had a job, at least not that he knew, and wondering what he should do, especially with his rent coming due in the next week and a half, he leaned against the building, thinking.

When nothing came to mind, he pushed himself away from the building. Aware that one of the men who loaded and unloaded the trucks and vans was staring at him, Joseph hastily turned away and began walking. When he reached the street, he stared at the throngs of people and elbowing his way through the crowd, he crossed the street. On the other side, he paused for a moment to consider what he should do and as several people cursed him for standing about, Joseph took one final glance at the place he’d worked for twenty-some years before turning away and starting to walk.

His key sticking in the lock, Joseph wondered for a moment if he no longer had an apartment to come home to before the tumblers within the mechanism finally turned and pushing the door open, he stepped inward. Tired, looking dishevelled, several days worth of stubble covering his face, he slipped his house keys into his pants pocket, but didn’t step any further inside.

It had been four days since he had gone to his job, only to find out that he either didn’t work there or never had. After he’d left, he had wandered the city, never really settling on a destination, always trying to figure out what was going on, certain his downstairs neighbour, the change in the use of sweetener in the soda and the loss of his job were all somehow connected. But how, his mind simply couldn’t make the association and after about two days, in which he passed one day in a dingy hotel room and the other in a homeless shelter, he had made his way Breuckelen.

He didn’t know when he had last seen his mother and father, as always there had been a tension between him and his parents, mostly because they had high expectations of him and he was always afraid of disappointing them, but now he felt like he needed their guidance. Thinking that it must have been a couple holidays ago, Joseph had stood outside their Breuckelen home, mentally going over what he was going to say, as he knew they would be judging everything he was saying, just looking for something to criticise him about. Unable to decide what he was going to say, positive his parents would find something about him to complain about, he had started up the walk and when he reached the backdoor, he reached out and pressed the buzzer.

Inside, he heard the familiar buzzing noise of the doorbell and as he waited, Joseph had thought, not for the first time, that maybe one of the reasons his parents acted the way they did was because they held him responsible for his sister’s death. But he couldn’t find any way to corroborate this, except that it had been his suggestion for Valerie to attend the college where she’d been killed. Struggling with his thoughts, returning to trying to think of what he should say, Joseph was startled from his thoughts when the backdoor was yanked open and the stern disposition of his father glowered out at him.

Fumbling for something to say, Joseph was cut off when the man before him demanded, “What do you want?”

He knew what his father was like when he was angry, but Joseph was completely overwhelmed. He’d never seen his dad this upset before and struggling to find a way to say something, he was cut off when his father said, “If you’re selling something, we’re not interested. If you’re campaigning or protesting something, again, we’re not interested. If you’re here to tell me about Jesus or the kingdom of heaven, we’re Jewish,” as his eyes moved up and down, taking in Joseph’s appearance.

Realising how he looked, unshaven, the same clothes he put on a couple days earlier and worn to a job that didn’t recognise him, Joseph finally blurted out, “Dad, I…” but trailed off, unsure how to continue as it had been years since he’d gone to either of his parents with his problems.

The stern look deepening, Joseph dad’s barked out, “Listen. I don’t know who you are or what game you are playing, but I don’t have a son. Had a daughter, but let’s not go into that issue.”

“Papa,” Joseph sputtered out and feeling like he was going insane, he stated, “I know you and mama are unhappy with me, but.”

Cutting him off, his father snapped, “Listen, kid. I’m not your papa. And your mama certainly ain’t here,” and nodding, as if once more taking in Joseph’s appearance, he stated, “And if your parents are unhappy with you, I can see why. So do yourself a favour. Go and get yourself cleaned up, go to temple and seek a rabbi or go to church and find yourself a minister or whatever for spiritual guidance, then go find where it is that you belong,” and stepping back, he slammed the door.

His mind playing our what had just happened, Joseph stood on the back stoop of parent’s house, staring at the backdoor. Unable to come to terms with the fact that his own father claimed not to recognise him, Joseph pressed the button next to the door and when the door was yanked open once more, he forestalled his father from saying anything by stating, “You don’t have to talk to me or acknowledge me, but at least let me speak to mom.”

“My wife has been dead for nearly thirty years!” his father exploded and jabbing Joseph with a thin finger, he bellowed out, “Listen, schmuck. I don’t know what game you think you’re playing at, but you have clearly got the wrong house. So scram it before I phone the police,” and slamming the door again, he left Joseph standing on the stoop with a confused look on his face.

Wanting to confront his father, make him see the facts, Joseph almost raised hand and pressed the doorbell. But feeling like the end result would be the same, he turned and feeling dejected, he walked back the way he’d come and making his way back to Manhatten. He wasn’t really conscious of were he went, but knew in a rather distant way that it wasn’t back to his apartment. But when he did, Joseph found himself wanting to turn away and flee from the insanity that his life had become.

“No job. People I know don’t know me. What else can go sideways,” he muttered to himself as he stepped further into his apartment and closing the door, he stared into the twilit gloom.

Stomach grumbling, he wondered when he’d last eaten and thinking it may have been sometime yesterday, he stumbled to the kitchen, thinking about the problem food had become. Searching the cupboards for something simple, worried that he might be getting sick, remembering the last bit of whatever he’d eaten had disagreed with him, he turned to the fridge.

Taking a kosher hotdog from the package in the meat drawer, he started eating it without bothering to heat it, but had only taken a couple bites before spitting it out into his hand. Staring at the uneaten portion, wondering if it was ruint, he eventually tossed it in the trash bin, turned to the fridge and opening the meat drawer, began to examine the hotdog package and the links within. Seeing that the sell-by-date was still at least a week and half off, he sniffed at them and immediately dropped the package back into the drawer, as even the spell seemed nauseating. Picking up a Ziploc bag from the deli that had turkey slices into it, he opened it and sniffed.

Again, the meat smelled revolting and tossing the sandwich meat back into the drawer, he pulled open the crisper, sniffed at one of the apples, found it to smell delicious, took a small bite and found it to be satisfying in taste. Taking another apple, as well as a couple stalks of celery, Joseph kicked the fridge shut and not even bothering to go to the table, sat down on the floor to eat his meal, trying to figure out why everything in his life had taken a sideways turn and felt like it fed into the sensation that something was off.

He sat, staring at the empty table next to his recliner. It had been a couple days now since he had figured out the change in his diet and that he was now a primarily herbivore. In a couple hours time the My Little Pony marathon he’d been looking forward to would be starting soon, but he found that he cared less as the picture of his sister was missing.

Looking about the room from where he sat, taking in the television set sitting on the simple glass-top TV-stand and the bookcase containing the few movies he had picked up on Beta-disk. Glancing back at the empty end table, still not seeing the picture of his sister, he stood and made his way towards the bedroom, thinking that he may have taken it there at some point and hung it up on the wall next to one of the pictures of his former mum and dad.

Seeing the familiar three pictures on his parents, but not the picture he was searching for, he started to leave the bedroom, but stopped. Stepping closer to peer at the pictures, he whispered, “It’s not possible,” and hurrying to turn on the room light, he smacked the wall a couple times with the flat of his before finally flicking up the switch.

Scared by what he knew he’d see, Joseph slowly approached the pictures hanging on the wall and seeing that they did indeed show a pair of Unicorns, he backed up, shaking his head and whispering, “No,” repeatedly.

The fear he was feeling growing to the point of nearly consuming him, Joseph turned and fled his bedroom, flicking off the light as he went and not giving a second thought to what he was doing. Flopping down in the recliner, squeezing shut his eyes, whispering, “This is a nightmare,” he laughed aloud as he picked up the television remote and nervously stated, “A Night Mare,” and laughing again, he began flicking through the channels.

When he reached the one the marathon would be hosted on, he muted the TV and staring blankly at the screen, an idiotic cartoon playing where some poorly drawn character was accompanied by a yellow creature that might be a dog on some mission, Joseph let his mind wander. Settling on the feeling that something was off, a sensation that had neither lessened nor intensified over the past couple days, he began ticking off on his fingers how he was no longer recognised by his downstairs neighbour, beverages and foods were missing a sweetener he knew had existed for nearly forty years, he didn’t have a job, his father not only didn’t recognise him, but was also clearly missing from the few family pictures Joseph had, “Along with my sister and my mom,” and that his diet had become one of fruits and vegetables.

“But not all vegetables,” he reasoned as he remembered that avocadoes and onions made him almost as sick as his attempts at eating meat and that broccoli gave him painful gas.

His mind drifting, searching for a way to make some sort of connection, Joseph found himself at a loss when the My Little Pony marathon began. Unmuting the TV, he only half way paid attention to what was happening, his mind playing out and searching for what he was sure to be the elusive link that would explain everything in his life and the feeling that something was off.

Focusing his attention completely on the television and realising that the studio was starting with the G1 episodes, Joseph almost turned off the TV. Instead, he decided that since he’d been looking forward to the marathon, he would remain faithful and watch it from beginning to end. Reaching down and pulling up on the level that raised the footstool part of his recliner, he settled in to watch. But, as the marathon progressed onward, to Joseph’s displeasure, it didn’t bring him the happiness he thought it would and continuously finding himself returning to finding the relation that he considered might not be there and that he was only driving himself insane, but at the same time was confident that it did exist and finding it would help to explain so much.

The days drifting past, G1 giving way to G1.5, which segued into G3 and than into G4, Joseph was barely aware of anything outside his apartment. He only left his chair when he felt it was important to do, including bathroom trips, which also involved showering and shaving when need be, and the requirement to eat when he felt hungry. He slept in the chair, often falling asleep in front of the television and usually after the last episode played for the day at around ten pm, but sometimes nodding off an episode or two before. Always on his mind was the elusive puzzle that he was sure contained an explanation for the off feeling and what had happened to him. But, the odd thing he noted, was that around the time G4 started playing, the sensation that something was off had begun to both build and almost dissipate, leaving Joseph feeling confused.

Yawning, unsure why such a sensation should feel so, he gazed sleepily at the TV, thinking that he might fall asleep again before the last episode. His thoughts on the feeling, he barely took in when Twilight started singing about mornings in Ponyville, was doused with a deluge of water, started to scold Rainbow Dash and noticed it was Rarity in charge of weather. Yawning again, he shifted in his chair, not wanting to miss the particular episode, as it was one of his favourites.

Outside the living room window, unseen by Joseph and any who might have glanced in its direction, something hovered, waiting. It had travelled the city, seeking one that drew it. When it found the one, it waited as other forces worked their ways upon that one. In the room, it watched as the one began to doze, then dropped off to sleep. Certain the one would sleep, feeling that the time was right, it slipped into the room.

On the television, a violet coloured Unicorn was doing something with a book and knowing the time was soon and that everything must happen exactly at the right moment, the hovering thing slowly moved across the room. When it reached the sleeping man, it paused, waiting. On the TV the Unicorn and flipped open the book and tensing, the unseen tensed. The moment it heard, “From one to another, another to one…” it hovered over Joseph and as the spell on the television was read, it slowly settled on top of the sleeping man until, when the spell was done being read, the unseen sunk into Joseph.

Unaware of what was happening, or that the sensation of something being off had had left him completely at the exact same moment Twilight had finished the incomplete spell of Star Swirl the Bearded, Joseph shifted in his recliner and sunk deeper into sleep. On the TV, the episode continued, unwatched by the sleeping man, who had started glowing white as the seventh stage of his transformation began.