I spent months hyping myself up over this convention. I even ordered myself a pair of purple pony ears. Now, here I am, waiting to even register for the weekend in a line so long it spills out of the headquarters hotel into the sidewalk. It’s chilly, it’s breezy, and, frankly, I’m slightly pissed that my pony ears didn’t arrive before the convention because the company screwed up my order. If I hadn’t missed lunch while waiting in this stupid line, full of other fans of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, I would probably be able to get over it. My stomach rumbles instead.
Despite the aura of cheer that everyone around me maintains, I have a feeling that I am going to have a crappy day.
Five minutes… ten minutes. I’m only a few feet closer to the door. I knew I shouldn’t have had that bag of bran muffins five hours ago on the car ride up, but the traffic sucked, and I was hungry then, too.
Just about the only thing that could make my wait worse that it is actually happens: I’m standing around after another step forward, and a bird poops right on my head.
I have no time swear about it before I find my body being mashing and mushed and malformed in some kind of magical meat grinder. From my point of view, though, it looks like I’m being sucked through a magical rainbow straw.
Maybe rainbows are just made of magically extruded people?
After what feels like an infinitely small amount of time that takes a forever to pass, I feel air rushing by. Or rather, I’m rushing through air.
At this point I don’t know what to think. I’m definitely not a human anymore, which might explain why I feel somewhat incapable of expressing the same level of “pissed off” that this situation surely merits. I’m kind of mushy, and wiggly, and not very viscous. If I had a nose, I’d say I also smelled pungent.
I’m falling, I realize. That’s why the air is rushing by so fast. I always imagined that I would fall faster. Maybe that’s just another change. Come to think of it, I don't weigh very much. I’d take a look at myself, but I don’t have my phone with me – I left it in the car – and I don’t exactly have a bathroom mirror at hand.
Still, I have some level of perception available. I know that I’m smelly, for one. I can see, too. I can’t see myself, but I can see that I’m falling from really high up.
Down, I see little houses making up a town, and a nearby mountain with a castle protruding from it and an adjoined city. There’s a lot more green than I see in the aerial pictures of Earth. And come to think of it, I don’t see any cars or busses, or really any motor vehicles on the roads below, even if I am high enough up that they’d look like ants.
The city looks familiar, yet still foreign. Then it clicks. Canterlot. It looks weird because I haven’t actually seen it in three dimensional space before – only in the cartoons, and the occasional rendering of a fan-made model. Directly below me must be Ponyville.
I think I have an idea of what happened. Not exactly, but this seems stupidly similar to those ‘diplaced’ fan fictions, where someone goes to a convention and gets teleported to Equestria as the character they were dressed in costume as, with all of their powers, which is just dumb because I wasn’t even wearing any… thing...
Above, me, I see a lone bird flying.
Shit.
Literally.
I’m a piece of shit, now.
And I’m falling. This is not what I meant when I figured that I was going to have a “crappy” day. Now my esteem for everything is falling about as fast as I am, except it didn’t start nearly as high.
I evidently have some time before I hit the ground and end my life as a splatter, so I might as well use it somehow. Come to think of it, I wonder where I’ll land. I might be directly above Ponyville, but I’ve been burned in video games far too many times to believe that I am actually where it looks like I am. If I land in Ponyville, though, maybe somebody – or somepony – will notice me. If I don’t, I just get absorbed by the ground, and strangely that sounds far more depressing of a way to go.
I start to hope that I’ll land in Ponyville now. Maybe if I land somewhere spectacular, I’ll be remembered. It’s far more likely than the chances I had back home.
Here I am, though, falling through the sky as a drop of bird crap. This isn’t how those other displaced fics panned out – or started. Wasn’t I supposed to be a self-inserted over-powered character from any show that I enjoy watching? I always knew that the universe was treating me like a piece of shit, and, well, here I am.
I am a lot closer to the ground, now, and I can start to make out individual ponies. Even if my first seconds in Equestria are in the place where the sun doesn’t shine, it’s shining on my bleak fate now: I’m not only directly above Ponyville – it appears that I’m falling directly above the outdoor seating of a restaurant, and there are ponies eating there. I figure that I might as well take gross pleasure in making another person’s – or pony’s, rather – day as crappy as I can.
Closer, closer, soon I can make out details on the ponies. I’m directly above a table! There’s a purple pony and a little purple creature that isn’t a pony on the other side at the table I’m destined for.
Holy crap the ground is getting big fast.
‘Splat!’
I’m freezing. Oh my god is it cold now. I can’t do shit about it, of course.
“AH!”, I hear somepony cry shout. “Waiter!”
“What is it?”
I’m listening to Twilight and Spike now. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what they sounded like in the show. I haven’t actually watched an episode for weeks.
“What may I help you with?” That’s another voice I hear. The waiter, evidently.
“Something… unpleasant just landed in my sundae.”
“I see. I will have another made for you?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Something shakes whatever the substance I’m in now – ice cream, I think, judging from the conversation I just overheard. Apparently, I am also unpleasant. At least one thing hasn’t changed.
The ice cream slides around me, and I realize that I have just been slung out of the container along with it, into a bush. I land with another splat.
Some people like them, but now all that I can say about those ‘displaced’ stories is that they’re full of crap.
