Adventures of a Stereotypical Brony

Adventures of a Stereotypical Brony

Prologue: Findin' my own destiny

"Having quotes in italics at the beginning of every  chapter makes one deep, dark and edgy."

-Mahatma Gandhi

Links in blue denote music, which you must listen to, otherwise the wrong atmosphere might be created because you are not enlightened to my superior patrician avant-garde music taste. Also you might ruin the story by listening to your entry-level plebeian mainstream trash.

"So you want to go to Equestria?"

"Um...ya! It's been my dream since I was like.... 5?!!"

"Well hand me yo wallet peckerwood."

"Sur-wait what?"

James raised a quizzical eyebrow in the direction of the black man sitting opposite him, across the greasy table. It had been a normal day for him, spilling spaghetti and minding his own business in the corner of McDonald's when a large, intimidating african-american approached. The man gestured towards his Fluttershy toy he had just received in his happy meal, then asked if he could dine with James. Of course, being irrationally trusting of anyone carrying the label "Brony", James said yes immediately. Love and tolerate.

"You heard me. Hand over your wallet."

"Why?"

"Because you don't need money in Equestria. Especially not Benjamins. Ummmmm yeah right ooooon I love me some Benjamins."

James was wondering why the black man was rubbing Benjamin Franklin-faced $100 bills on his nipples. He had presumed it was Discord. Discord was always sending middle-class american teenagers to Equestria for no discernible reason. Of course it was Discord. Everypony knew Discord loved 100 dollar bills almost as much as he loved nipples.

"Okay Discord-I know it's you-here's my wallet."

He stretched out his hand, brown leather wallet in palm. James was sweating profusely, he hated social interaction and he despised any physical contact with other humans. His dining companion snatched up the wallet and checked its interior. Discord-black man's eyes lit up at the sight of some fresh Benjamins. It looked like his nipples would explode if they were to  get any more erect.

The man jumped out of his seat and made a bolt for the door leaving no time for James to react, but being a courteous criminal he had to taunt his victim before he left:

"Haha stupid white-ass cracker"

Then he disappeared of down the street, stealing some poor soul's unlocked bike on the way past. He yelled something that sounded faintly like 'Justice for Trayvon!"

James slumped over on his seat, head in hands and greasy hair brushing against the even greasier table.

"Why does stuff like this always happen to me?" He asked no one in particular.

He considered suicide as he had done many a lonely night, but found himself too much of a damn pussy to pull it off. In his mind he blamed everything from God to the marginalization of the white male in today's society. His heart filled to the brim with anger  and teenage angst, until he could take it no more. He slammed his fist into the table with the strength of a thousand burning cushions, moderately frightening the obese children on the table next to him. Stammering an apology under his breath he started crying; hitting the table really did hurt.

A female McDonald's worker politely asked him to leave, citing the complaints of the other customers and the lack of space in McDonald's on a busy Saturday morning. James just ignored her, the tears flowed freely, emerging from his swollen eyes and flowing down to sting his acne-ridden face.

Not to be taken seriously in any way, shape or form. Srsly guiyz. Fanfiction is srs biznss.