(Un)Healthy Obsession

I felt like pounding my head against the keyboard.  After staring idly at a blinking cursor for almost a full hour my hope for inspiration completely wore away.  I growled furiously and wiggled the mouse across the screen in a vain attempt to release some anger.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid story,” I mumbled at the monitor.

Immediately, I regretted my insults.  Here was something I had been putting my heart and soul into for what seemed like an eternity.  The viscosity of my creative juices had little to do with its quality.  Obviously it was good enough to attract some attention.  I just needed to exercise a little faith, and a lot of patience.

With a heavy sigh, I rose from the swivel chair in my office and dragged myself into the hallway.  Crystal had already left for work (late), so I was alone as I opened the fridge and poured myself a glass of milk.  Several other edible items caught my schooled eye but I expertly ignored them, consuming only what I came into the kitchen to consume.

Somehow I got thinking about the mail.  Maybe the milk made me think of milkmen which made me think of mailmen; one way or another I found myself outside opening the mailbox.  There were a few bills, a bit of junk mail, but a small square envelope addressed to me caught my eye.  I tore it open as I went inside and snorted at my sister’s familiar, curly handwriting.

Hello, Tommy!  It’s been ages since I heard from you.  How are things?  No need to reply in a letter—I’m inviting you to mom’s seventieth birthday party!  Can you believe she’s that OLD?  I really hope you come!  The whole family will be there, and you’ll get to meet my newest daughter Charity!  She looks just like YOU did when you were a baby, if I remember right.  We’re having the party at Mom’s house on her birthday.  Bring a gift!

Love, Henrietta

I frowned and read the card again.  She didn’t even mention Crystal.  That was more than a bit offensive in my opinion.  She didn’t mind talking about her brand new daughter, but she couldn’t take the time to write “your wife is invited, too”?  That was just like Hentrietta, and one of the reasons I hadn’t seen her for three years.

Suddenly it hit me.  Had she even met Crystal?  Did she even know I’d gotten married?  Why hadn’t she been at the wedding?

I tried to go back to the wedding in my head, but my brain overshot by a few months.  Instead, I found myself fondly reliving the first time I met my beloved wife.  It was during my sophomore year of college.  My roommates and I were attending a casual party hosted at her apartment.  The first thing I noticed was the stuffed animal wrapped tightly in her arms.

“That’s cute,” I complimented, sitting next to her on the couch and pointing at the doll.  I was far more nervous than I let on, seeing as the sturdy couch creaked and shifted under my weight.  I tried to keep my cool as I talked to this pretty girl with a plush, green horse.

“Thanks,” she said, giving it a quick hug.  “I made it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.  “Uh… how old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” she answered unabashedly.

“And… you’re cuddling with a stuffed horse?  At a party?”

She laughed—a bubbly, whimsical laugh I’d forever hear in my sweetest daydreams.  “It’s not a horse.  She’s a pony.”

“Oh.  My bad,” I said, lifting my hands in sarcastic defense.

She sneered playfully.  “She’s my OC—Original Character, you know?  She’s me, but ponified.”

“Ponified?”

“Yeah.  You know, ‘My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic’.  Heard of it?”

I shook my head, trying hard not to snicker.  “Why would I have heard of it?”

“Lots of college boys watch it,” she said with a shrug.  “More boys than girls, actually.  We’re called Bronies, although I guess I’m better classified as a Pegasister.”

Very confused, I lifted one eyebrow.  “College boys watch My Little Pony?” I questioned critically.

“Friendship is Magic,” she added emphatically.  “It’s the fourth generation of Hasbro’s toy line, reimagined by Lauren Faust.  She worked on ‘Powerpuff Girls’ and ‘Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends’.”

That impressed me.  I had loved ‘Foster’s Home’ when I was younger, and seemed to remember watching 'Powerpuff Girls' without cringing.  “That’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s twenty percent cooler than any show you’ve ever watched,” she said.  Obviously I missed the reference at the time.

“I doubt that,” I said, thinking of the latest ‘Breaking Bad’ episode.

“You should give it a try,” she encouraged me with a genuine smile.  “At least watch the first two episodes.  I’m sure you can find them on YouTube.  We’re only getting to the end of the first season, but it’s seriously the greatest show I’ve ever seen.”

So call me crazy, or call me enamored with this cute blonde, but I did.  And as the first season made its wondrous conclusion, I joined the herd.  It was hard for someone like me not to.  I was studying film, I loved animation, good storytelling caught me by the heart and wouldn't let go, and those characters!  The characters are what really gets people, I think, beyond the world building and the music and the great villains.

She reminded me of Fluttershy at first, but the more I got to know her the more I saw Applejack in her.  We started to spend lots of time together, watching the show, talking about it, watching as the community grew and flourished and exploded online.  But as exciting as it was to be a brony back then, being with Crystal really got my heart pumping.  I fell fast.  She fell slower.

"But she fell," I said, grinning.  The smile went away when I remembered my sister's invitation on my hands.  I dropped it onto the kitchen counter and went back to the computer, checking through my email archives for some evidence of having told my family about Crystal.  I couldn't find any.  The longer I looked, the more worried I became.  "That's weird...."  I sat back in my chair and folded my hands over my belly.  It was also weird how close to me they felt.

But not nearly as weird as this discovery.  How could something like this happen?  I rubbed my brow in concentration.  There seemed to be a big hole in my brain, some missing piece that promised all the answers from a great distance.  I ground my teeth for a moment and stood up, moving to find my cell phone.  Crystal would have some light to shed, at least.  Surely we had told my family.  I was just... experiencing a massive brain fart.  Yeah.  Sure.

Red.  Orange.  Green.

The stoplight was broken.  The yellow was faded, yeah, but beyond that the whole thing was just blinking together.  Ryker stared at it for a long time.  The intersection had been blocked.  He'd been walking for a while, didn't know this part of New York.  His hands were in his pockets, but his eyes hovered above the workmen backing up a truck.

Red hair.  Orange coat.  Green eyes.

"Watch out!"

He acted fast, pressing himself against the side of the poorly painted building to his left.  Just in time.  The Cutie Mark Crusaders barreled past him on the sidewalk, screeching to a halt on the corner of the closed intersection.

"Finally," Ryker said under his breath, smirking as he shoved his hands back in his jeans' pockets.

"You almost hit him!" Sweetie Belle squeaked.

"I did not!  He's quick, he moved way out the way."

"Doesn't look like there's much way to move 'round here," Apple Bloom said, cringing at the buildings' heights.  "I don't much like city life."

"Then why'd you come?" asked Ryker, approaching.

Sweetie beamed.  "Hi, Ryker!  Rarity told me to say hello."

"Back at her," Ryker nodded.  "Why'd you come, Apple Bloom?"

Her face was adorable.  Defensive, but not in an angry or even an unsure way.  Just cute.  "Well, 'cause it's been a while!  I wanted to see ya."

He laughed through his nose and stole a humble glance at the truck.  It started making noise as a weird lift carried one man to the broken stoplight.  "Let's get out of here," he said to the fillies.  "I want to hear you while I can."

He turned left and walked fast.  Scootaloo resumed her position on her scooter while Sweetie made sure her helmet was secure from behind.  A motorlike buzz carried the Crusaders to Ryker's right.

"It really has been a while," Ryker said.  "I got three visits in twenty four hours, and then nothing for a whole week.  Honestly, what's your schedule like over there?  Can't we settle for something a bit more consistent?"

"Sorry, man."  Scootaloo shrugged.  "Stuff comes up."

"Stuff comes up?  What does that even mean?"  He shook his head.  "Can't you explain it more to me?  How does it work?"

"Yer the one that should know," Apple Bloom said.  "It's all in yer head, ain't it?"

He sighed.  "Yeah.  I guess so."

"Don't be sad!" Sweetie Belle said.  "That just means you have the best head ever!"

Ryker grinned.  "If I could pat you on the head right now, I would."

"Go ahead," Sweetie said, removing her helmet.  "What's the worst that could happen?"

Ryker's smile saddened.  "You disappear."

"I won't.  Promise."  Sweetie looked up at him with those big green eyes and offered a humble smile.  Scootaloo stopped the cart.

Skeptical, Ryker stood still with his hands in his pockets for a long time.  Sweetie leaned toward him, stretching out her neck.  He laughed a little and, slowly, pulled his hand out of his pocket and moved to rest it on Sweetie Belle's curls.  His fingers hovered above the place his mind projected her to be, and then dropped.

Ryker gasped and jumped back, slamming into the brick of the building behind him.  The Crusaders laughed.

"What?" Sweetie asked, feeling her own hair.  "Do I have something in my mane?"

"You..."  Ryker could hardly breathe.  "I felt you."

Sweetie beamed.  "Barely!  Come on, give me a good pat!"

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom laughed hysterically as Ryker reacquired his balance and stepped toward them.  They stifled their laughter when he knelt beside them, eye to eye with a smiling Sweetie Belle.  His jaw hung open a little as he brought his shaking hand up and cupped it along the side of her face.

"No way..." he whispered.

Sweetie's hoof raised and pressed against the back of his hand.  He gasped.

"That's what took us so long," Scootaloo explained.  "We got Twilight to up the ante."

"I can..."  A smile threatened to break over Ryker's shocked face.  "I can feel you."

Sweetie nodded.  The way her short fur rubbed against his palm and fingertips sent shivers down his spine.  He laughed -- a high pitched, childish sound that hadn't come from Ryker's gut for longer than he could remember.  He raised his other hand and felt her ears, then ran his fingers through her curly mane.  "You're real," he said.

"My turn!" Apple Bloom shouted, pushing Sweetie Belle out of the way.  She beamed and leaned over the edge of the wagon.  Ryker laughed again and felt her bright red mane, very different from the thick texture of Sweetie Belle's.  "It's so soft," he muttered.

"Feel my bow!" she said.  He did, and its silk was as real as any he had touched in his life.

"This is incredible," he said.  "Am I dreaming?"

"Kind of, I guess," Scootaloo said with a shrug.

Ryker put his hands around the back of Apple Bloom's neck and felt her shoulders, her back.  Sweetie jumped back into reach and he felt their ears at the same time.  They giggled.

"I can't believe this," he said breathily.  "Can I... can I hug you?"

"Of course!" Sweetie yelled, and leapt out of the wagon.  She wrapped her little forelegs around Ryker's neck.  He stumbled back and caught himself with one arm, then adjusted his knees and folded his arms around the tiny pony.  Tears jumped to his eyes at the clean smell of her mane and the way it brushed against his cheek.  They began to stream down his face when he realized her could feel her heartbeat against his collarbone.

"Group hug!" Apple Bloom chirped, jumping out of the wagon and grabbing his other side.  He laughed heartily and held both of them close.

"Ew, that's gross," Scootaloo said, but Ryker didn't buy it.

"Get in here, Scoots!" he said through the manes in his face, and opened her arms wide.  The next thing he knew, a third body was pressed against his own, and the laughter of four voices in the air was the most authentic thing he'd ever heard.

And then suddenly it was all gone.  He alone was laughing, kneeling on a New York sidewalk, crying with joy and staring into the empty space between himself and the empty road.  He stood up, still chuckling, and leaned against the bricks.

"What the hell was that?"