Reviving the Ring

Today was a long awaited day. Today, I couldn’t wait for my shift to end at the shop. I was the desk man at a mechanic shop. I generally dealt with listening to people’s car troubles, tracking the finances, janitorial matters, and the occasional flat tire. But that doesn’t really matter.

A couple of months back I had ordered something. You see, I am a massive brony, even though one might not guess just by looking at me. It had taken me a good couple months excess savings, but I had finally gotten enough money to commission a plushie maker from overseas, and today was the day that it was planned to arrive.

I watched the time tick by. It slowly crawled along as I counted down the last hour until the shop closed and I could swing by the post office to claim my prize. Nobody had car troubles on a Monday. The odd oil change here, thermostat wrong there. Finally, five o'clock rolled by and most of the mechanics who were working today said goodbye as I started to pack up everything I had to keep track of.

The post office was just the same as it was pretty much every day. Perfectly empty, except for the odd person who was checking up on their P.O. box, just like I was. I fumbled through my keyrings (I had a small collection of keychains) and found the brass key labeled USPS: DO NOT DUPLICATE. It was smaller than my other keys, and within moments I had opened the small box. Inside were a few advertisements, some bills, a new magazine, and a key to one of the bigger boxes.

My heart rate jumped up. It was here. That’s the only reason I would have a key to one of the larger boxes, reserved for packages that wouldn’t fit in the averages P.O. box. I pocketed what mail I could fit in my plaid coat, locked by box back up and made the small journey to the larger parcel boxes. I inserted the key, and with a little bit of confusion as to which way to turn the thing, finally opened the box and retrieved the box, which was rather light.

One final, short, car ride later, I was home. I retrieved a knife and sat down on my couch, parcel in my lap. I took a deep breath, and slipped the knife into the flaps, cutting the tape binding the top to the sides. Now the risky part. I had to cut the tape on the top of the box without damaging the goods inside. So, with one good, long, and carefully shallow cut along the space between the flaps, the tape was cut. I opened the box, dreading the worst, that I had inadvertently cut a large gash down her side.

Lifting the flaps, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that Twilight Sparkle was perfectly fine, and that if I had cut anything in the box, it was the packing foam that ensured she was safe during her journey. I quickly lifted her out, admiring the work. It was very well made. I fished around in the box, thinking there might be some sort of invoice, and eventually found what felt like a sticky note. I grabbed hold of it and lifted it out of the sea of green, to find two pills taped to it.

“What on Earth?” I whispered to myself. Underneath the pills I noticed that there was a message scribbled on the note, so I carefully peeled the pills off, setting them aside. The note read:

There are three rules to PON-E:

Never name yourself

Never take alone

Never take more than one in a twenty four hour period.

These pills take effect in five minutes or less, and I’m sure you’ll find the effects quite enjoyable.

The effects will last for twelve hours at a time.

I’ve sent you two in case the friend you decide to take this with decides they want a ride as well.

At the bottom was signed the plushie makers name. What had they just sent me? What was PON-E? Something told me I wouldn’t find it from a Google search, nor would I want to. I got up, taking the note, pills, and plushie with me upstairs to my room, where I placed Twilight on the shelf with all my other “nerdy items,” which mainly consisted of my army of Funko Pop figures. I then walked back downstairs, placing the note and pills side-by-side on my small dining table as I set some water out to boil for some pasta. As I waited, I sat down at the table, staring at the two items. What had they sent me? Was it poison? Some sort of drug? Should I even bother taking it, just to see what would happen?

I’m not sure how long I sat there in my internal debate, but I was roused from my thoughts by a vicious bubbling coming from the pot across the kitchen. The water had boiled, and was threatening to run over. I jumped up and turned down the cooktop, referring to the box for how long I should cook, how long I could focus on what I was going to do.

Within the next twenty minutes or so, I sat down at the table, opposite where I had sat, staring at the pills in front of me. They were a distraction, that much was clear. The note was very cryptic, as if they knew that I wouldn’t be able to rest easy until I knew what it did.

After yet a few more minutes of thought, I decided that I would take it in the morning, unless I had a change of mind, in which case they would be going straight into the garbage. I figured that whatever this was, it would probably be better enjoyed at a time other than late at night. I didn’t know what effect it would have on my poor brain, but if that thing lasted twelve hours like the note said, I’d rather use my day off tomorrow rather than exhausting myself halfway into it. I finished off my dinner, cleaned up my dishes to be washed tomorrow, and finished off my day zoning out in front of the television, like so many other people.

Little did I know, I wouldn’t be doing the dishes tomorrow, nor would I be doing anything I had planned tomorrow. Tomorrow I would take the pill that would change my life.