The Horse House of Horror
Celestia broke into your house, so she's the first thing you see when waking up.
"Good morning."
"No,” you say. “Not you. Go away, shoo."
She shakes her head. “I'm afraid there's something I need to tell you, first." Her muzzle moves next to your ear and whispers, "We're going to play a game."
"Aw hell."
"So pay very close attention. I put a tiny little spell on one object in your house."
You bite your lip and sweat. "What kind of spell? What kind of object?"
"The spell is simple: If you touch the object, you turn into a pony." She smiles like this was a most clever thing to do. "But it's up to you to find out which object is cursed."
"So it's inside my house?"
"Yes."
"Is it my Godzilla figure?"
"Possibly."
"The half empty box of Corn Pops?"
"Perhaps."
"My shoes?"
"Maybe."
"Wait, wait, it's the six pack of Dr. Pepper I bought yesterday, isn't it?"
"Oh, wouldn't that be something."
You shove her muzzle away from your face. She wanted to play, fine. You'd play. Oh, you'd play hard. Your hands fly into the air. "Guess I'm right screwed huh? Nothing in my future but turning into a skittle donkey when I brush my butt against an innocuous something-or-other." Down into a recliner you plop (without turning into a horse, praise heaven.) "Whatever oh whatever am I gonna do?"
Celestia stretches out on the couch across from you. "Aren't you supposed to be running a country?" you mutter.
"Funny thing about that -we're either very busy over there, or we're not."
"Makes sense. I hate you. And your games. Your entire mentality is diseased."
"I love you too."
You flip her off. She blows a kiss in return. You lean back and cross your legs, staring into the ceiling. "Guess there's only one course of action, considering the rules."
Celestia put her chin on her hoof. "Which is?"
Three hours later, you're standing outside wearing a ratty top hat you found in a shed and screaming into a megaphone.
“Come and visit the Horse House of Horror! Cursed by the gods themselves! Gaze and be amazed and possibly turned into a form beyond your wildest imagining! Who dares to tempt fate at the low price of ten dollars for children age ten and under, fifteen for adults!?”
A trio of poorly shaven college students approach.
"We want to be horses."
You hold out the money-bucket. "Here's your chance, fifteen bucks each, there's one object inside the house that'll make you a mule or whatever. Initial entry fee gives you two touches -five bucks per touch after that."
One grumbles. "Serious? Not even mobile games money grubs people that hard."
"Celestia sat on the couch. The cushions still smell like the body glitter sprinkled on her butt."
"Here's forty dollars."
"Welcome to the Horse House of Horror!" You shake the money-bucket vigorously as they drop precious legal tender. "Do me a favor, write down whatever you touch onto the paper pad posted by the front door when you're done, thanks.” You raise the megaphone to their faces. “Good luck to you brave souls, as you finagle my trappings! Who knows what shall occur? Owner not responsible for sudden shifts in morphic fields and possible realignment of gender and sexual orientation!”
More people gather. The money-bucket grows heavier and heavier as rubes funnel into your abode. You don't like having strangers touch your stuff with their grubby, unclean fingers, but you like staying human and raking in cash hand over fist even more.
You laugh into the megaphone, not caring about the weird looks people make. This is great. No downsides at all. Celestia gave you the best meal-ticket you've had in months.
"Come one, come all, and possibly come out a zebra! Who knows? I don't! Only at the Horse House of Horror!” you shout, spinning in circles, top hat in the air. "Hoo hah! Hoo hah!"
More people go in. No horses come out. The list of clean objects grows longer and longer. You look through the sheaf of papers on your lunch break.
The ps3 is clean. Computer looks good. Washing machine is fine. Fridge is untainted. No voodoo found inside your closet. The Godzilla statue is safe. Toilet paper is cleared for use.
Looks like you can at least brush your teeth and sleep in your bed tonight without fear of going beast-mode.
Several buckets of money sit by the lawn chair you're resting on outside. The sun is setting. Probably enough for the day. Tomorrow you'll give it another round -take these suckers for all the cash they're worth and find that one stupid cursed thing the Princess ran her nasty tongue all over.
You barge into your house, megaphone at max. “Hoooh, the sun sets, as do our hours of operation! The time has come to flee from this place where the laws of nature have been torn asunder! No refunds, please come again tomorrow when we open at nine-thirty, only at the Horse House of Horror!”
Paying schmucks, marks, tourists, and small children are chased off. You see a guy poke at your six pack of Dr. Pepper. No horsification in sight. They're all gone in little time. Hooray for peace and quiet.
You lug the fleet of money buckets onto the kitchen table and count the day's profits.
Celestia pulls up a chair.
"Go away," you say, counting off the bills.
"No, I think not. So, still a human, I see."
"Sure am. Me and everyone else who visited today. I can walk clear from the shitter to my sock drawer in total confidence, and dropping cash all the way 'cus I make it rain."
"Isn't that a fine thing," she smiles, totally pleased with herself.
"It is a damn fine thing," you peel off a twenty into the ever-growing stack. "So fine, that it makes a man really thirsty, feeling safe in his home again after a long day of running a tourist trap." You strut to the counter and grab a Dr. Pepper. "Your ploy to creep me out and make me paranoid has failed completely. Utterly. My chicanery and self-preservation instincts have wrecked your awful scheme.” The can hisses as you pop the top, taking pleasure in the healthy fizz.
"It seems your creativity and perseverance has foiled me, clever little human."
A victory swig goes down your throat.
"Let that be a lesson to you.” You loose a vigorous belch. “Not everyone's a dumb little fleck who'll go to pieces at your curses. Nay, I say, neigh!"
Celestia bites her lip and smiles. You look at the Dr. Pepper can and realize the guy only touched the outside of it. The soda inside glows.
Celestia was now on the receiving end of stare a stare hot enough to sizzle burger patties. "I really fucking hate you."
"I know," she replies, bouncing with giddiness.
You hiccup and the world stretches up and out.
"Crap, crap, double-crap," you squeak as you trip out of your now-oversized clothes. You look down at your new pony body. "Son of a goddamned bitch, why'd you make it look like I got scooped out of a Baskin Robins tub?"
Celestia waltzes by and kisses you on the top of your curly, colorful mane.
"It's so cute when the frilly ones swear."
She took a sip from the cursed Dr. Pepper. "Oh right, what were you charging? Fifteen for adults, yes? Let me cover that for you." She drops a ten and fiver into a money bucket. "Thank-you for playing," she quips. "Better luck next time."
She vanishes in a puff of sparkles and smug satisfaction.
You look down between your legs and frown. You're going to need to buy lots of stepping stools.
Jokes on her, you've got cash for days.
The ensuing laughter is distressingly sing-songy.