“The Bannered Mare. References within references. Whoever’s writing this stupid fanfiction needs to stop with the pop culture and come up with some original material.” I punctuated this sentence by punching myself hard in the gut. After I caught my breath, I corrected myself. “I mean, ‘I find the popular culture references to be witty and entertaining!’”

. . .

I decided against any further fourth-wall-breaking. All it would bring me is pain and insanity, whereas the least I could do to whoever’s writing this is make his readers lose their immersion.

Anyway, the bar was called ‘The Bannered Mare’ according to the sign above the door, which depicted what I could only assume was an attractive female pony giving bedroom eyes and covering up her naughty parts with a flag. I don’t get it. Why would it be considered lewd to cover up what’s already hanging out most of the time?

I looked over the pub again. It was the restaurant from this morning except, the sign was different, there were colored lights and a bouncer out front glaring at a long line of ponies. I had barely glanced at him when he caught my attention and waved me over. I waded through the small sea of quadrupeds, earning a share of dirty looks, which I ignored.

“Are you...” The burly black stallion checked his clipboard. “‘John the Human’?”

“I’m a human, and my name’s John, so, yeah.”

“You’re a VIP guest of the co-owner. Go ahead in.” He set the clipboard down and waved another guest over. I did as he said and went ahead in.

The doors swung open like a classic spaghetti saloon. The raucous bar patrons quieted down upon noticing me, until you could’ve heard a fly shit himself. The DJ stopped spinning with loud scratch of vinyl, all of the ponies on the dance floor stopped dancing, the ones at the bar stopped drinking, and I’m sure the ones in the bathroom stopped pissing.

I tried to play it cool. I adjusted my jacket and walked calmly to the bar, my footsteps echoing like thunderclaps. I sat in one of the stools, which only came to my knee. The bartender, a green stallion with an eyepatch and a bottle of booze for a cutie mark, stopped polishing a glass and cantered over to me. He leaned a hoof on the bar and spoke to me in a rough Scottish accent.

“So, yew must be that tew-legged lad that me brother was talkin’ aboot. Ah heard you got a wee bit more’ah Twilight then ye could handle?”

I chuckled. “You did, huh? Been here less than a day and I’ve already got chicks practically throwing themselves at me. Too bad they all have more legs than eyes.”

He laughed a deep belly laugh. The kind that makes everyone in the room instantly relax. I was kinda just relieved that he didn’t get offended at my eye comment.

“Ahahahahaha! Well, I’d gladly trade places with yeh, boyo. She’s a right bonnie that one. Shame she’s such a scunner, or I’d have at that wif two shakes o’ me tail.” He chuckled again as he shook his head. “So, ‘John’, what’re ye after? Feelin’ drouthy?”

Finally. “A little. Tell ya what: Surprise me.”

He smiled, revealing slightly rotted teeth. “That’s what I like ta hear.” He pulled out several bottles and a cocktail mixer.

“Well, that’s what I like to see.” I smiled, too, revealing my perfectly white smile. He mixed a few promising liquids together as the bar began to regain the ruckus it had before. None of the patrons approached me, but they stopped glaring at me, so I guess it could be worse.

He poured an oddly bright-colored drink from the mixer. He added an umbrella and pushed the tall glass towards me.

“It’s green.” I observed.

“And all the rest of the colors, too. It’s called a Tonic Rainboom, boyo.” As he said this, the drink began changing from green to blue, then blue to purple, purple to red, red to yellow, then back again.

“Well ain’t that interesting.” I took a sip and smacked my lips twice, searching for the familiar bite of alcohol. It tasted delicious, like exotic fruit, but I didn’t come here for taste. I came to get drunk. “There’s no booze in it, though.”

“Booze?” I felt the cold spike that preceded disappointment pierce my heart.

“Y’know... Alcohol. What kind of bar is this?”

“Alcohol is for disinfectin’ wounds, boyo, not fer drinkin’. I don’t know what kind of bars they have where yew come from, but we don’t serve medical supplies here.” The confusion on his face made my heart sink.

1: Thou shalt not fuck cartoon horses.

~~2: Thou shalt not make the cartoon horses cry.~~

3: Thou shalt acquire undergarments.

4: Thou shalt not ask questions.

5: Thou shalt acquire ALCOHOL!

I pulled out my flask before slamming half of the drink quickly. I poured the contents of my flask into the glass until it roughly reached the top, then used the umbrella to stir it. The barkeep watched as I took another sip and savored the burn of the two-twenty-proof vodka as it went straight up my sinuses. I’d gotten a case of it as a birthday present from Dutchy two years ago. He special ordered it from a friend of his in Russia because it was the only thing that could even hope to get him drunk. He must have a liver made of steel or something.

My head twitched slightly as the heavy liqueur clashed with the fruitiness of the drink. “That’s better.”

“That’s alcohol? And you’re drinkin’ it?” The bartender looked more curious than anything else. “Gie’s a shot, then, lad!”

“Have at ‘er, my man.” He picked up the glass and took a tentative swig. He shuddered so hard he almost dropped the glass.

“Ho, that’s a right scunner, that is! You got some peaches, sonny.”

“I guess it’s an aquired taste.” I shrugged and took another swig. He nearly fell over laughing.

“Ya know what, John? I like you. M’ names Single Malt, but me mates call me Scotch.” He stuck out his hoof, which I shook. I was still a little bummed that they didn’t serve alcohol, but that wasn’t his fault.

It was this fucking worlds fault.

None of the other ponies would talk to me, so I pretty much just talked to Scotch the whole time. Every few minutes he’d dash away to serve drinks, but in between he told me about how him and his two half-brothers owned the place jointly.

“Cole wanted ta run a family resturant, and I wanted ta run a bar and grill. Hunter didn’t want to be tied down ta either, so he suggested we split it. So, now I run the bar at night, Cole runs it during the day, and Hunter handles the funds, advertising, and such.”

“Cool. Like a time share, except you’re making money instead of losing it.”

. . .

Alcohol: (Enters and gives Mouth a hug.) Well, ain’t you a sight for sore ethyl! Soul, it feels like its been forever since I last saw you guys!

Brain: It’s been like... less than a day.

Mouth: (Motions to Brains seat.) Well, make yourself comfortable, buddy. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.

Brain: Hey, that’s my chair!

. . .

“Alright guys, ten o’ clock! You know what that means!” The DJ, Disco Ball, announced, prompting the crowd to cheer in response.

I leaned over and whispered to Scotch, “What happens at ten?”

“Every Saturday and Sunday, DB picks somepony from the crowd to sing a song. It’s actually pretty popular. Normally he goes for ponies who haven’t been or before, but he’ll pretty much pick anypony who catches his eye.”

The DJ pulled out a list. “Let’s see... Do we have a ‘John the Human’ in the crowd tonight?”

Shit.

. . .

Alcohol: Sounds fun! Let’s do it!

Mouth: Al, we suck at singing. Like, really bad.

Brain: For once, I agree with Mouth. We are physically incapable of engaging in this form of reverie. Let’s just order another drink and pretend we don’t exist.

Alcohol: You guys suck, I’m going for it!

. . .

“That’s me!” Well, now I’m fucked.

I stood up and weaved through the crowd toward the stage. Climbing up it in a single step, I stood before the crowd who less than an hour ago, had been in a similar silence as I walked in. I’m sure they all remembered me, though the silence was more curious than suspicious this time. Disco Ball played it cool.

“So, tell us a little bit about yourself, John the Human?” He used his telekinesis to levitate the mic to my mouth. Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention he was a Unicorn.

“Just John, please.” I swallowed. I always get nervous on stage. “Well, where do I start? I’m a human, a creature not native to this planet. I have absolutely no idea how I got here.”

“So, you’re an alien, then? Like from the comic books?”

“Sure, I guess you could say that.”

“You’re not gonna take over Eden and enslave all ponykind, right? Cause that would kinda ruin my day.” He tried to make it sound like a joke, but I detected a note of genuine concern in his voice.

“Nah, I’m just gonna see if I can find a way home. But while I’m here, I might as well party with the ponies, right?” Scotch clapped and cheered and soon the rest of the crowd did, too. “Right?”

“So, what kinda music you have where you come from, John?”

“All kinds. Here’s a taste of what humans have to offer.” My vodka-addled mind seemed to have forgotten one teensy detail: My singing voice sounds almost exactly like a dying toad.

The reason my voice sounds like I’ve been smoking four times as long as I have is because; A few years ago, on my quest for vengeance, I recieved a small... injury... to my throat. I’ll get to the details later, but the point is, one of the bullets tore through half of my vocal cords, and the other grazed my spinal cord, causing massive nerve damage and nearly paralyzing me. Doctors say it was a miracle I survived. I don’t believe in miracles.

But, of course, I was half pissed up, and I wasn’t going to disappoint my new fans, was I?

“You don’t happen to have a guitar around, do you?

DB quickly fetched me a guitar and a stool. I spent a few seconds tuning it, and spoke into the mic again. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this, so sorry in advance.

“Now, this is a song of youth and love, in the genre of Rock-and-Roll, a classic back home. This is Bryan Adams’ ‘Summer of 69’”

I cleared my throat and began playing. Oh god, it’s gonna suck.

“I got my first real six-string,

Bought it at the Five-and-Dime.

Played it ‘til my fingers bled,

It was the summer of sixty-nine.”

. . .

Vinyl Scratch listened to the strange creature play his song. It was unlike any ponies voice. Like the crooning of a spring peeper, it brought back memories of growing up in this small town among these little ponies. The words of dreams and aspirations, combined with the creatures rough voice had her mind spinning. She found herself unconsciously thinking of what would happen if she put it through a mixer, maybe auto-tune...

No. She came here to relax, visit her family, not work. She glanced at her little brother up on stage nodding his head to the human’s music. He’d done her proud, adding in a drum kit and synth at the exact right moment. But even pride for her youngest sibling couldn’t keep her shaded ruby eyes off the alien creature for long.

Dang. He’s kinda cute.

Vinyl had always been contrarian by nature. She lived to go against the norm. What was less normal than an alien?

Wait... was she contemplating rutting an alien? She shrugged. I’ve bucked worse-looking things than that. She concluded, grinning.

Most ponies didn’t know, but Vinyl Scratch, aka DJ PON-3, was a nymphomaniac. And a master seductress. And tonight, she craved something out-of-this-world.

“Standin’ on your Mama’s porch,

You told me that you’d wait forever,

Oh, and when you held my hand,

I knew that it was now or never,

Those were the best days of my life.”

“Hey, Daisy, gimme a hoof up, will ya?”

. . .

Mouth: (On phone) Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Yes, I know... Well, take it down and try again, and tell Larynx I can’t hold his hand through every little thing. No... Fine, I’ll tell him. Yeah, thanks. (Hangs up phone, addresses Brain) Well, the guys down in Throat are doing the best they can, but theres only so much they can do with Larynx encased in a half an inch of scar tissue. Trachea’s trying to pick up the slack, but we can’t keep this up much longer. Oh, and Al?

Alcohol: Mmmmnyes?

Mouth: Epiglottis told me to tell you that you’re a dick.

Dick: Why does everyone use my name as an insult?

. . .

Luckily, my second random boner of the day was hidden in the fold of my pants.

Besides that, my throat was reminding me why I don’t sing. It feels like I’m trying to swallow a tennis ball.

The effort for one of my Dad’s old favorites was worth it, though. I’m more suited for Nickelback than Bryan Adams, anyway.

I haven’t played a guitar in years, but for some reason the crowd still cheered me on, like I was a real rock star. Cross that one off my bucket list, then.

One of the ponies actually stood on another's shoulders to get a better look at me. Her shades were what made her catch my eyes. She had a blue spiky mane and a white coat, I couldn’t tell what her... Okay, I’m sick of calling them Cutie Marks, I mean FUCK, before today, I wouldn’t have even thought of using the word ‘cutie’ let alone naming a fucking STAPLE OF MY SPECIES CULTURE AND BIOLOGY after it!

So from now on, I shall alternate between tramp stamp, ass-tat, and maybe anal emblem should the situation call for it.

Anyway, her anal emblem was not visible to me at the moment. She noticed me noticing her, and, in an obviously significant gesture, she lifted her tinted glasses, exposing her rose-red eyes.

Then she winked.

And I winked back.

“Standin’ on your Mama’s porch,

You told me that you’d wait forever,

Oh, and when you held my hand,

I knew that it was now or never,

Those were the best days of my life.

Oh, yeah!

Back in the summer of 69!”

I finished up the song and the crowd became quiet. Red-eyes got down from her friends shoulders, but my gaze followed her. She went to the corner of the bar and sat down. I’ve always considered myself to be a good reader of people, and I guess ponies are people, too, because everything in her pose said, Come and get me.

Well, I guess could politely explain that I’m not into ponies. Boner notwithstanding.

. . .

“Scotch! D'eux, s'il vous plaît!” I held up two fingers, and in response, two glasses of grape juice slid down the bar. Only in advanced stages of shitfacedness do I resort to French. I assume it’s a subconscious defense against saying embarrassing things while I’m soused. I picked up my glass and immediately downed half of it. “So, you called for my attention, Mademoiselle?”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ a Mademoiselle?” she said, feigning anger. I laughed. I like her already. She graciously took the grape juice as I mixed mine with vodka, despite my use of français telling me I’d had enough. “That was a pretty rockin’ jam there, sweet cheeks. You a musician?”

“Nah, I’m more of a John-of-all-trades.” I chuckled at my shitty joke. I was drunk, okay? “How about you?”

“Yeah, dude! I DJ at a lot of parties and stuff, but you can’t beat me behind a mixer!” She didn’t sound prideful, she sounded like she just got tickets to the coolest concert ever and I was invited. “Normally, I work up in Canterlot, but I’m visiting my fam. Small town pride, y’know?”

I did know, I grew up in one. I was about to regale her with tales of my escapades in the Central Wisconsin Village of Onawash (Pop. 562) when she looked over my shoulder and did the pony equivalent of cussing like a biker. “Ah, Mother-rutting haunch-sniffer!”

“What? Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” I turned around to see what she was looking at. I just saw a lot of ponies doing exactly what we were doing; having a drink and chatting. Oh, there he is.

A pink stallion with a broad chest was approaching us, grin on his face and flanked by two more stallions. “The guy with the ugly mug and a pair of his butt-buddies?”

“His names Lady Killer. His talent is supposedly seducing mares. I turned him down when I was visiting a few months ago, and now every time I come down, he keeps trying to get me in his bed. Big pain in the rump, if you ask me.”

“I’ll take care of him.” My stool scraped as I prepared to start a bar fight.

. . .

Balls: YEAH, KICKIN’ ASS AND MAKIN’ MESSES!

Brain: And where in Souls name have you been?

Balls: In the latrine, PUKING MY GUTS OUT because of all the FUCKING GODDAMN PINK in this COCKSUCK EXCUSE FOR A WORLD! ALSO, ALCOHOL, LONG TIME NO SEE!

Brain: Like I said earlier, less than a day. And you’d better keep your hormones in check-

Balls: (Interrupts) MOTHERFUCKER, I AM HORMONES!

. . .

I swear I just felt my balls drop, a good sign. “What’s crackin’, Lady? I heard you and your little rump-rangers were cruisin’ for a bruisin’.”

“What? My name is Killer, and who are you?” He gave me the up-down. “Oh, you. That was a pleasant... noise you created up there.”

Oh, he did not just insult ‘Summer of 69’.

“Yup, it was. Listen, Lady, I’m gonna level with you. The girl I was just talking to? You’re nothing to her. Run home and let real men get the girls all excited. And take your merry fudge packers with you.” I think I got him. His nostrils flared and he pawed the ground.

“You... You thing, how dare you speak to me like that!” And then, I shit you not, he yelled, “Get ‘im, boys!”

Lady charged me first. He reared up on his hind legs and shot a hoof at me. I quickly twined my arm around it and shifted my footing. Using that leverage and my superior weight, I launched his head at the bar. Hard. He collided with it in an explosion of teeth and weird rainbow pony blood. I let him go and he slid to the floor with a gurgle.

His little chode stroker friends just stared at me, jaws dropped.

“Boo.” God, I always wanted to do that. They spun simultaneously and tried to run, I caught them, a tail in each hand, “Oh, no you don’t, I’m gonna teach you a little lesson in the value of friendship.”

Yanking them backwards, I grabbed them both under their bellies, lifted them over my head, and did a double suplex through a table. I got up and dusted myself off. Then I checked out the mess behind me.

The solid oak table had snapped like balsa. I shrugged and turned to Scotch, who’d watched the whole thing with wide eyes. I clarified, “I’m not paying for that.”

“Only one rule concernin’ barfights in the Mare: Losers pay for damages.”

“Friggin’ dope. Shame they broke so much of your juice stock.” I winked.

“What... Oh!” He laughed, then shouted to the patrons, pointing at my victims. “Another round on these poor sods here!”

I chuckled as I got back to my date. “I don’t think he’ll be bothering you anymore.”

“Dude...you’re nuts!” She laughed like a loon, and in my drunken state, it was infectious. when we were done, I got the conversation back on track.

“So, you’re a DJ?”

“Yeah, like I said, high-end stuff, nobility, even royalty sometimes. But you gotta remember your roots, yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Heres to that.” We clinked our glasses and I downed a little more ill-advised alcohol. “I just realised I don’t even know your name!”

She wasn’t used to having to introduce herself. “Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch.”

“Now, who’s ready to PARTY?” Disco began spinning what was clearly a dance mix.

“Yeah, I own this beat,

You can call me the king or the ruler.

Felon on bass, getting hoarse at the mic!

We’re getting twenty percent cooler!”

I immediately began nodding to the beat. “This is, like... really catchy.”

Vinyl was getting really into it, swinging her tail and tapping her hooves. “YES, this is my favorite song! Wanna dance?”

. . .

Alcohol: Chill, Bros. We can totally dance.

Brain: Not with you around, we can’t.

. . .

Next thing I knew, Vinyl and I were out on the dance floor. Apparently, pony dancing is a lot less exciting than human dancing. They kinda just stood there and shuffled their hooves to the beat.

. . .

Alcohol: Aww, look at them, they’re so cute, it’s like they’re all shy or something. Alright, class is in session, watch and learn.

Brain: I do not approve of this.

. . .

Imagine a drunk, 6 foot, 9 inches, 400 pound white dude partying hard, lazers all around him, Vinyl Scratch across from him in awe, a small circle of quadrupeds cheering him on like he wasn’t drunk and white.

Imagine it, because that’s all the description you’re going to get.

However, the fast songs quickly ended and I actually felt the night become tender as Disco Ball put on a slow song. I asked Vinyl with my eyes if she still wanted to dance, and she nodded.

“I close my eyes and breathe again,

The minutes bend, as they turn into years.

My mind begins to drift away,

Don’t make me stay in here.”

. . .

Vinyl knew she’d have to pay Deeby back somehow. She’d been the one to nonverbally suggest the slow song to him while she and the human danced. Maybe take him to a concert... No, focus, Vinyl. It was obvious he couldn’t slow dance the way a pony would, so he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “So, how do you want to do this?”

She felt his hot breath on her neck, the musky, dry scent of his jacket. He was so close to her, and thanks to her little brother, they would be closer still.

“Any way you want.”

“Alright.” He held out his hand, and she put her hoof in it. He gestured to his shoulder. “Now put the other one here.”

She obliged and wrapped her hoof around his rock-like shoulder muscles. His hand stroked down her back and came to a rest on her rump. “Hold on,” he warned, then, to her surprise, he pressed her body to his and picked her up. Her hind legs swung beneath her and their faces were mere inches from each other.

His deep blue eyes met her rose-red ones as he did a modest two-step. His scent enticed her and calmed her.

What the hay was going on? She was supposed to be the one seducing him, not the other away around! She needed to get it together.

But she couldn’t deny the wetness between her legs, or the way her hooves trembled as they walked back to the bar when the song was over.

. . .

“So, anyway, that’s how the human reproductive system works. It’s definitely more complicated than it seems, hey?” It had seemed like an odd and specific request, but hey, I wasn’t embarrassed. Drunk as a skunk, but not embarrassed.

“Yes, fascinating...” She leaned forward until I could smell her breath, a tingly scent, like the air before a lightning strike. She whispered in a vixen’s voice, a siren’s song.

“In fact, I’d love to see a demonstration.”

“...”

“John?”

“Sorry, I spaced out for a second, there. What’d you say?”

“I said, I’d love to see a demonstration.”

I frowned and held up my index finger. I then held up my other hand, pointer touching thumb, forming an O. I moved my finger in and out of the O repeatedly.

“A real demonstration, John.”

“I don’t know how to illustrate it any clearer without showing you myself. And for that, would need a human female, of which there are none.” I shrugged.

“Oh, for Lunas sake!” She grabbed my hand in her mouth and began dragging me across the club. “Scotch, I’m borrowing your back room!”

“Wah! What are we gonna do in the back room?” I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going. Or my hand in her mouth, for that matter. She dragged me in and locked the door behind without answering me.

I’m gonna go back on that old saying, ‘ Nothing good happens when the door locks behind you.’ No time is that truer than now. The look Vi was giving me was almost predatory. She needed a lot less force to push me over than Twi did, due to me being a lot less steady on my feet.

“Heh-heh... Vi? Um... Hey, that’s tender!” Her push had knocked me against a crate full of bottles, now she hopped up on it as well, bending me over it backwards. As I lay prone over those crates, her forehooves over either side of my head. She set herself down on my stomach. Just as when we dancing, I was struck by how little she weighed.

“Now, where is it?” She began shifting herself around on my belly.

“Where is what?” Maybe this was some sort of pony welcoming ritual. Because that’s the only reason I could think of that she would take me into the dark back room and pin me down.

Don’t get me wrong, I could’ve easily thrown her off at any moment, but even among humans I was extremely strong. Almost freakishly so. I didn’t want to hurt her.

I didn’t want to hurt anyone any more.

Whatever she’d been feeling for, she seemed to have found it, she stopped squirming.

She leaned forward, and met my lips with hers. Unlike Red, who’d been tentative, Vi seemed to have no reservations at all about my odd, flat face. On the contrary, she was rather exuberant about it.

She pulled away, leaving a small string of saliva between us. Rolling her tongue around in her mouth, she smacked her lips and smiled. “Hm... weird. But I like it.”

“What the... fuuuuuck...” My jaw quivered in its place on the floor.

“Do you get it now, John? Now, take your weird leg-things off, my magic isn’t working for some reason.”

. . .

[The various organs are all gaping, except Alcohol, who is clapping excitedly.]

Brain: What in Soul’s name have you got us into?

Alcohol: Well, what I’m getting us into should be obvious, now Dick, be at the ready!

Dick: How about ‘Not a snowballs chance in hell’? You’re stretching this ‘Whiskey-dick’ thing a bit too far, I’m not doing it. Even I have standards, asshole.

Alcohol: Oh, come on, all the other fan fictions are doing it!

Brain: Stow that mindless fourth-wall gibberish, right now! I will not tolerate any of the parts under my command to be put inside an animal!

Heart: Now hold up, that’s a little-

Brain: No. For Dick’s sake, and for the sake of the moment, Vinyl Scratch is an animal. (Turns to Alcohol.) You will be forcefully removed from the premises, you’ve caused enough damage for one night.

Alcohol: (Laughing hysterically.) Ha ha! You think this is the last of me? Ha ha! It doesn’t matter what world you live in, what body you’re in command of, I will find you, and I will KICK YOUR ASS! HAHAHAHAHA! (Continues laughing as he’s dragged away by Liver and Kidneys.)

Brain: (To Liver.) Have Bladder keep an eye on him until he can be properly discharged. (To Mouth.) I don’t care what you have to say or how inebriated we are. Get. Us. Out. Of. Here.

Ass: (Enters.) Good evening, gents. I’ve heard my name called several times in the past few minutes, and was wondering if I could perhaps be of assistance?

All: NO!

Ass: I’ll take my leave, then.

. . .

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. What the fuck.

“Oh shit. What the fuck.”

She stopped licking my ear for a second. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I too heavy? We can try a different position, if you want.”

“No, no... Bad girl, bad girl. What the fuck. Bad girl.” I picked her up with shaking hands. She seemed to misinterpret my stern reprimands for eagerness.

“Ooh, yes, I’m a bad girl, and I need to be punished!” She hit me with another sexy look and a wiggle of her hips.

“Oh God, Morgan Freeman, fucking fuck.” I set her down on a juice crate, and she turned around and presented herself.

“Call me whatever you want, I’m the one being punished.” Her tail lifted slightly. I grabbed it and pulled it down. I didn’t want to see that.

“I have to go... get my... virginity. I’ll see you in... I’ll see you.” I quickly turned and kicked the door down, fragmenting the frame near the lock. I ran up to Scotch behind the bar and dropped the bag of gold coins that had been my payment from Rares in front of him.

“I must go. My people need me.”

“I don’t think ya bought that many drinks, lad.”

“Yeah, I also think I broke your door.”

“Alright then, if ya need ta go, I won’t keep yeh.” He shrugged, as if property damage was a part of his nightly routine. For all I knew, it was. I was interrupted in my thoughts by a buxom blue-haired broad calling my name.

“John? John, where are you going?”

“I’m going to Disney World!” I fled out the front doors and booked it back to Twilights house, praying to all the gods of all the religions that Vinyl Scratch didn’t follow me.

. . .

She decided not to follow him. Let him think he was safe. “I love it when they play hard to get.”

“What did you do to ‘im, lass? He ran outta here like a diamond dog with its tail on fire.” He knew her well enough to know that her face was flushed from arousal rather than embarrassment.

“I gave him a little taste of what’s to come.”

. . .

“You lost him?” Dusk had fallen. Twilight had not. She was in fact, quite steady on her hooves as Nurse Redheart gave the news of John the humans disappearance from her care. She sighed. “Alright, what happened?”

Redheart swallowed the lump in her throat as the guilt leapt up again. “We went for a walk, to get away from town, you know, and he started talking about how lonely and scared he was and, I guess I sort of...”

“Yes..?”

“Kissed him.” She said, louder this time.

“You... kissed him.” Nurse Redheart cringed in anticipation of a marvelous ass-chewing that was surely in store for her. “What was it like?”

Redheart was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

Twilight pulled out a piece of parchment. “What was it like when you kissed him? How many tongues did he have? Are his teeth as sharp as they look?”

“Umm... It was really hot, Like temperature-wise. I keep thinking he has a fever, but maybe humans just run hotter than ponies. He only has one tongue, but it’s really small and kind of weird shaped. It’s almost pointy, but it’s really soft. And his teeth, well... they’re definitely not as sharp as they look, but they’re pretty sharp.” As the nurse relayed this information, her sadness and shame began to disappear.

Being a nurse, she also noticed that Twilight was showing textbook signs of arousal.

“What did he taste like?”

“Kind of ashy. Maybe because of those smoke-sticks he uses.”

“Hmm...” Seeming to be intellectually satisfied, at least, Twilight slid the parchment into a notebook that bore her cutie mark and replaced it onto a shelf across the room. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to find him again. I won’t be able to locate him magically, I’ve tried, but we could follow his physical trail if we needed to. Assuming he’s still in the forest.”

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“I know he is. From what Fluttershy’s telling me, he can take care of himself. His Null-magic field must have protected him from the basilisks magical attacks, giving him an opening. And before you start, Fluttershy, it’s okay, you didn’t know.” Fluttershy sat in the corner, mortified that she’d let such an important creature get away.

The girls were still gathered in tree library after Princess Celestia’s visit and were getting each other up to speed on the human situation. Twilight and Redheart did most of the talking with Fluttershy chiming in a bit near the end. Rarity, of course, had shared a rather stimulating conversation with the creature, as opposed to Pinkie Pie, who seemed to have nothing good to say about him. Rainbow Dash had caught a glimpse or two of the human during her weather duties, which was still more than Applejack, who’d been working all day and hadn’t even known of the human until the meeting they were having at that moment.

“Rainbow, I suggest you comb the skies for him, he’s not easy to miss. Fluttershy and Applejack, you should ask around the forest, see if any of the animals have seen him. Rarity and Pinkie can ask around town, and me and Nurse Redheart will stay here in case he comes back. Everypony got that?”

General assent was passing around the room when there was a knock on the door.

“Now who could that be?” Twilight said, as she went to answer it. before she could however, the knob turned of its own accord.

The door opened, revealing John on the other side. He scooped her up in a tight hug and twirled her around.

His voice sounded oddly slurred. “Oh God, Twily, it was horrible. My dick touched a pony vagina."

. . .

Michael Salem awoke in a cold sweat. He turned to his wife, snoring peacefully beside him. The frogs and bugs made an imprssive din outside his window, having their last hurrah before the cold hit. It was that wonderful time in Wisconsin between summer and winter, the time when the world calmed down and got ready for a long nap.

All was peaceful.

But all was not right.

Michael felt a tug on the string in his heart that connected him to his brother, the string that had held them together even when their parents had died and their family had nearly been torn apart, the string that always told him something was wrong even when his more protective sibling wouldn't.

Something was wrong now.

John, where are you?

Author's Note

A lot of music in this one.

Post in the comments how you think John was dancing in the club or even post a video!

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