The Theme of This Story is Summarized by the Last Line of a Kinks Song
Maybe, thought Andrea Libman, to the best of her drug-addled abilities, I should have asked some questions when Larson offered me that little square... thing. She coughed and sputtered, drool dancing down her chin. She took a big breath; soon the heaving began anew.
And maybe, she chided herself as powerful stomach contractions sent said stomach's contents into the sink before her, I shouldn't have washed it down with so much vodka. Her regurgitated dinner was disgusting, but it was spelling out some pretty cool messages like, "Look in the mirror, silly!" Whatever that meant.
Her heaves had concluded, for now, but when she turned the faucet handle to wash off her face and out the sink, it became apparent that it was clogged with vomit. At this sight she almost retched again. Maybe I should be throwing up in the toilet, the discomposed voice actor thought. She doubted this was the "cool time" that Larson spoke of, though having six fingers would be nice the next time she played piano. Other than that, the night was pretty sucky.
"Or maybe," a squeaky voice chided, "you need to worry less about the physical unpleasantries of your trip and focus on relaxing in the cool shade of awakening."
Andrea looked up. Had her reflection talked? It was wiggling around a lot, and her hair especially looked a lot curlier than usual. In fact...
"P-Pinkie Pie?"
"The one and only! You don't look so hot, Gibby Libby!"
Andrea squinted. She scrunched her fingers up into something resembling a hoof. Before her eyes, the pink reflection did the same thing, except it really did have a hoof. The two tentatively reached forward, until hoof and hand met at the glass surface.
The human pulled away and shook her head; now she had a headache and her reflection was still a pony. "I'm definitely tripping."
"Or maybe," Pinkie countered, "drugs open gateways of perception to other realities normally blocked by the human mind. So you can party with Pinkie!"
"But this is a sad party!" Andrea insisted. "The finale premiers in three weeks! The show's over!"
"So?" Pinkie replied, shrugging. "It had a great run! Why the frowny face?"
"It's your funeral!"
"Puh-leaze! I'll be rocking out long after you've exited stage left."
Andrea felt hot liquid caress her face. "What are you talking about? The series is ending! You're... I'm... I-I-I'm never gonna get to record your-your b-b-bright cheerful voice ever again! I'm gonna miss you!"
"Hey. Listen here. Look at me. Serious Pinkie face." Andrea kept sniffling but gave Pinkie her attention.
"The show may be over, but that doesn't mean I am. I know you think I'm imaginary, but I'm as real as you want me to be. Every time you read a story, or a comic, or watch an animation, or-or look at some fanart, every time you do any of those things and you see me, well guess what?"
A pursed smile appeared on Andrea's lips. "What?"
"I'll be real again. As long as you and others remember me, I'll never, ever die."
"R-really?"
Across the glass barrier, Pinkie silently moved her limbs in rehearsed motions. "Pinkie Promise."
There were those tears again. "Thank you, Pinkie!" Andrea shouted. "I want to hug you right now!"
Pinkie giggled. "Me too! We'll have to shatter the mirror though. It might hurt a little, but it'll be worth it. Punch on three?"
Both reeled back. "One... two... three!" they shouted in unison, fist and hoof flying towards each other. Andrea heard a crunch and felt pain. Shards of glass were sticking out of her hand, but more importantly, there was now a hole through which she could hug her friend. So she did.
"Your fur is warm and fuzzy."
"Your skin is warm and smooth."
"Thanks for giving me a smile, Pinkie."
"And thanks for giving me a voice, Ms. Libman."
Eventually they disentangled from each other. "So, goodbye?" the human asked.
"For now," Pinkie said with a wink. "Oh! Oh oh oh!"
"What! What is it?!"
"Twitchy hoof! I gotta go. You're about to have company. Say 'hi' to Discord for me!"
With a flash, Pinkie was gone, just as John DeLancie walked in.
"Hey, Andrea, I heard a noise and..."
Pinkie Pie hopped down from the pedestal the scrying plane sat upon, addressing the others with a warm smile. "She's a little out of it right now, but you know what? I think they're going to be okay."
Author's Note
Original Writeoff Version
"This is 911. Please state your emergency."
"Ughhh, I had a really, really bad headache, but I--I think I took too many pain pills. I don't feel too good."
"Oh dear, you poor thing. Don't worry. I'll get some brave humans over there right away. Just stay calm."
"Humans? Wait, how do you know where I live?"
"Don't you recognize my voice?"
"Uhhhhh. Oh my gosh, Fluttershy?" But... it's been years. Am I hallucinating again? Am I dead?"
"Oh no, You're very much alive, and people are on their way. But I'm so glad to talk to you again!"
"We...we've talked before?"
"Well, we haven't but you and Pinkie did, a long time ago."
"This is the drugs isn't it?"
"Yes. Twilight says it's something about lowering the gateways to the perception of reality. I just think it's nice to speak with an old friend."
"Yeah, yeah. I wish I could have these encounters under better circumstances."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Andrea. You... you didn't do this on purpose, did you?"
"Huh? What--Oh! Oh, God no! I love my life. I just had a really bad headache, and I wasn't completely in it, and now I feel even less into it, so I thought I'd call 911, but then you picked up, and now I'm talking to an imaginary pony again."
"We're not imaginary, Miss Libman. Which. Uh. I need to talk to you about, actually."
"I'm really losing it, aren't I? Is this how I die? Talking to Fluttershy?"
"No! Miss Andrea Eva Libman, you are NOT dying on my watch. Paramedics will be there in a few minutes. You're going to be all right. If you want you can induce vomiting, but since you assured me this isn't a suicide--how many pills did you take?"
"Uh, like five?"
"Oh good, you'll be okay."
"I, uh, I'm glad to hear that. I think I hear sirens too."
"Yay! Those paramedics sure are brave, weaving through traffic with their horseless carriages. But um..."
"Yes?"
"Uh, before you go, I do have a request, uh, from the girls."
"What is it, Fluttershy?"
"You know how Pinkie said that everypony's--er, every human's art, stories, songs and whatever--they keep us alive in your hearts?"
"Yes! The fire of friendship burns in our hearts!"
"Um, could you maybe tell the Bronies to... uh... Eep!"
"What is it?"
"Write less porn."
Author's Note
This is not my best work at all (my Fluttershy voicing is atrocious), but I needed an epilogue to push the word count past 1000.
