My Feelings for You, Pinkie!
My eyes roved over my television screen, watching Pinkie Pie dance along it. I had been trying my very hardest to like the Friendship is Magic universe, but whenever I began to get into it, Pinkie showed up and ruined it. Ruined it, due to her high-pitched voice. Ruined it, due to her idiotic intelligence level. She ruined the show for me, due to being absolutely un-likeable. I hated everything about her. Her singing, rapping, and piss-poor attempt at comedy was a major disgrace to my well being. I tried really, really hard to tolerate her. But I found it nigh-impossible, and I just couldn't take anymore of her. I went across several MLP forums, each time getting flamed whenever I tried to voice my dislike for Pinkie Pie. My hatred burned even brighter for her. Make no mistake, I sincerely enjoyed some characters from the FIM universe, such as Discord, but Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie...
I decided to voice my concern to Hasbro. After all, this is the United States of America. I got up from my leather chair, and walked over to the television. I promptly switched it off, finally putting an end to that miserable song from that pink nightmare. I walked into the bathroom, since I had to use it anyways from chugging too many R.C. Colas. After that, I walked to the mirror. I examined myself closely. My dark brown eyes stared back at me, and I rubbed my hand through my thick beard.
"Do I really need to do this?" I question myself aloud.
Yes, I have to. Or else it'll eat at me forever. But will Hasbro really give a shit if I mail them or not? I stared at the mirror for what seemed like ages, until I got a knock at my door. I whipped my long hair back and forth, and snapped back into reality. I exited the living room, and then went to my front door. I opened it, and a voluptuous woman stood before me. I hadn't recognized her at first, but my brain kept telling me I meet her before. Her hair was pink, with bright blue eyes. She wore a pink tank-top, and her matching-pink skinny jeans hugged her hips. I noticed she also wore pink Sketchers.
"Do I know you?" I ask quizzically.
"Maybe." The woman smiles, almost maliciously.
"Well cut to the chase, I'm a busy man." I furrow my brow at her, unsure of what she'd do next.
She reaches into her back pocket, and pulls out a brown wallet. I remember now that it's my wallet, and I was watching MLP: FIM to forget about the worry of my lost wallet. She sticks it into my hands, and turns to leave.
"Wait!" I call out.
"Hmm?" she turns back, seemingly innocent.
"What's your name?"
"Diane. But my friends call me Pinkie." And with that, she winks at me, and skips away.
I close the door, and then it hits me like a sack of bricks. Diane? As in, Pinkamena Diane Pie? No way, no friggin' way! How would a cartoon horse exist in the human world? How does she know who I am? And further more, why did she choose to return my wallet? I decide to retire to my bed, and focus on my hate-letter another day.
That Night
I tossed and turned in the bed. I began to think about that woman, how curvy she was, how kind she had been to me. Maybe with enough work, be something more. I cross that out, since I look like a giant gorilla who hasn't shaved in months. But I finally settle down, and begin to sleep. I dream of machine guns, Donald Trump, and seeing Pinkie Pie die. I hear sobbing noises suddenly, and my surroundings change.
"Who would do such a thing?"
I find myself in a brightly colored hallway, leading to a baby-blue colored door. I hear the sobbing noises coming from inside. I walk slowly, and see the word "PINKIE" in pink paint decorating the door in question. As I grow near, the sobbing gets more hysterical. I wondered what I'd see in there. Perhaps a damsel in distress?
"Where did I go wrong?"
The voice was quite familiar. I couldn't quite put my finger on it though. I , at last, arrive to the door. I slowly peek inside, and see that it's quite dark. I could just make out a woman in pajama attire, and her clutching a white sheet of paper. I looked even closer, and it had writing on it. Then my knee bumps against the door, and her head jerks up in my direction.
"You."
Her expression turns violent.
"Why do you hate me?!" her voice turned shrill.
I then awake, my shirt covered with cold sweat. I look around wildly, making absolutely sure there was no psychotic woman about to pounce on me. I lay back down, still breathing heavily from that vivid dream. I wipe some sweat from my forehead, and then try to relax my body. That sobbing had been like no other, it sounded so real. I pick up my Windows phone from a near-by nightstand, and check the time. Eleven-Forty P.M. I had to be at work at Five-Thirty in the morning, which caused me to groan.
Going to work with all this on my mind, plus wanting to pen a letter to a company, who probably doesn't even care what I think, and having to watch out for Diane, this just made my life a little more interesting. Strangely, I wanted to see Diane again, even if she was Pinkie Pie in human form. I wondered what she'd think of it?
"Oh please, John. Why would a complete stranger care what you think of a cartoon pony?" I ask myself.
"You never know until you try!" I reply, mentally.
Author's Note
I decided to make some build-up before writing the big letter.
My Feelings for You, Pinkie!
I awake oddly refreshed. After arising from bed, I stretch, and begin to feel fully awake. I walk to the closet opposite my room, and retrieve my job uniform from my closet. I quickly iron it, and then put it on. I work minimum wage at a fast food restaurant. Aren't I a lucky man? I put on my sneakers, and then head out the door. I own a really trashy car, but it takes me where I need to go. As I approach the vehicle, I spot something out of the corner of my eye.
"Hi!"
I whir around to my right, and see Diane walking along down the street. She was dressed differently, wearing a long-sleeve pink t-shirt, and blue jeans. I then began to notice her rather busty chest, which made me look away.
"Um, hello?" I managed to mutter out.
As I unlocked the driver-side door, I gave one last glance to where Diane was. But she had vanished.
"Where did she go?" I ask aloud, but I received no further answer.
That Afternoon
I arrive home from work in a heap. It had been an absolutely brutal day, and I needed to get some rest. It then dawned on me; I still had to write that letter. I go to my bedroom, change into a tank-top with denim shorts, and go to what I call my "writing station." It easily was the best part of my house, in my opinion, and probably the most expensive item I had. It is located in my closet, which is rather spacious. I pushed passed the mountain of clothes, and at last I arrived to the desk where I dropped off my thoughts. The writing station is a desk which resembled one from a school. Under it was a steel rack, and as I sat down into it, I withdrew some paper and pencil. This is it, the day I make history. I take a deep breath, and put the pencil to the paper.
Dear Hasbro,
I have been a fan of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic for about two months now. I simply must tell you, I can not stand to watch it anymore. The main reason for me writing this mail is due to Pinkie Pie. She has singlehandedly ruined what I initially thought would be a good show. I hate everything about her. Let's start with her speaking voice. Her voice sounds like you're grinding a squirrel's testicles on a cheese grader. And her talking for more than two seconds is just a complete waste of air time. I also hate her singing. Even Nikki Minaj sings better than that pink cunt! And let us not forget the episode where she TRIED to rap! 50 Cent raps better than Pinkie! Her rap was so embarrassing that I had to have a cold shower just to take my mind off it! I also hate Pinkie's hair. Her hair looks like Chewbacca wiped his Gluteus Maximus on her head. I hate how Pinkie just looks! What an eyesore! And her fashion sense is so bad, that it'd make Joan Rivers jump off a five-story balcony. And let's not forget to mention all this retarded shipping with her and any other character. You couldn't PAY me to have sex with her, even if she was in human form. Whoever created this monstrosity must've been disowned by their parents! I wish I could take back my wasted time having to listen to Pinkie Pie talk, sing, or rap.
Have a bad day,
John Smith~
I grin wickedly at my letter, and smooch it. I go to the kitchen, and retrieve an envelope. I carefully fold my letter into it, and on the cover of the envelope, I write.
Please send to this address: 1027 Newport Ave, Pawtucket, RI 02861
I hastily go to my mailbox, and drop it in.
I then feel sickeningly happy. I let out an evil laugh, which goes on for a good five minutes.
"Feel my wrath, Hasbro!"
Author's Note
Hatred is magic! 