A Horse Walks Into a Bar...

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Alan smacked the infernal plastic contraption beside his bed. A loud thud echoed throughout the bedroom, and he could already feel a headache coming on. The room spun like a carousel as he tried to sit upright—and failed. Cobwebs hung inside of his mind, making it difficult to remember the events of last night.

Instead of getting up, he sighed and succumbed to the urge of pulling the covers over his head in a feeble attempt to keep the growing morning sun out of his face. In the cover of darkness, he tried to recall the events of last night. Blurry images came to him: an empty bar, sports flags, apple cider... but he had a sinking feeling that he was missing something... Something important.

Or was it someone? He grimaced, not only from the thought, but at the headache that was becoming steadily harder to ignore. With a tug of the covers, he got up and started sifting through his closet. What he needed right now was a nice, cold shower. Hopefully with that he could remember last night’s crucial details.

One cold shower and some new clothes later, the only thing he had succeeded in was keeping his headache at a dull throb. A nice cup of coffee was next on the agenda. Walking out into his tiny living room-slash-kitchen, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something... missing...

“Oh! You’re awake. Morning!!” A chipper voice said as he was grabbing for the coffee grounds. How he had missed her he had no clue, but looking over his shoulder ever so slowly he saw... Caramella, sitting on the couch with a glass of water in her hooves. Her cloak was draped over the couch, letting him finally get a full look at the pony. Chocolate fur, curly tan mane and tail, and bright, blue eyes. But what really caught his eye was the image imprinted onto her flanks; three swirly candies arranged in a triangular pattern.

Last night’s events came back to him instantly, as clear as a drunken night could. “Hope you don’t mind...” she nodded her head at the glass.

Oh. So last night wasn’t a dream. It had all actually happened. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation, but he had come this far hadn’t he? Keeping his voice calm, or as calm as it could be, he said, “Oh, that’s fine. Really, totally fine.” He hoped his smile looked calmer than he felt. If she took any notice though, he couldn’t tell. She went back to sipping on her water. “Breakfast?” She gave him a nod.

Turning back to the coffee he set the machine to work then opened his fridge. He frowned as he pulled it open; it was pretty much empty with only a few bits and pieces here and there. He pulled out the milk and give it a sniff. It smelled... good enough... hopefully he had some cereal in the cupboards. Caramella’s voice piped up while he poured out some off-brand sugary cereal he had found tucked away.

“Ooooh, I’m really paying for last night. My head’s killing me,” she moaned. “I’ll be glad to never drink again in my life...”

Alan plopped two bowls of cereal along with two mugs of joe onto the living room table. Sitting on the floor opposite of Caramella, he said, “Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?”

She smiled. “I guess so.”

The pair ate and drank in relative silence. Five minutes later, it was Caramella who spoke up. “So, I guess I owe you a better explanation than the one I gave last night, huh?” Her eyes locked with his own.

“Something something, giant holes? That’s all I remember.” He hid his smirk behind another spoonful of cereal.

“Yeah, well... here, let me start at the beginning.” She cleared her throat with a tiny ahem then spoke: “It all started when we got a call for delivery. I work at a small bakery called Sweet Treats, you see, up in Vanhoover—”

“Erm, do you mean Vancouver?”

She tilted her head. “No, what’s that?”

“It’s a city. Up in Canada.”

“Hmm... never heard of it. Vanhoover is in Equestria.”

“I... see. Continue,” he said with a wave of his spoon. If he were being honest, he found the idea of a horse filled land called Equestria a bit too on the nose to be true. That fact that he had a walking-talking equine in his apartment talking about it said otherwise though.

“Like I was saying, I work at a bakery called Sweet Treats. My parents started it up and we inherited it after they...” she paused, and her ears drooped. Alan flashed her a sympathetic look before she spoke once more. “Me and my two brothers work there now. Legally, it belongs to the oldest of us, Barry Blue. Me and my brother, Glaze—the youngest—work in the kitchens. When we’re not doing that we’re out delivering baked goods.”

“It was my turn to deliver when we got the order. I grabbed my cloak and packed the treats into my saddlebags and set off for an address across town. Ten minutes into my route, I suddenly find myself teetering on the edge of a giant, gaping hole. It opened up so quickly that I didn’t have time to stop myself. Next thing I know, I’m lying in the snow and my saddlebag is gone—scared, alone, and freezing. And then, well... we both know the rest.”

Something about what Caramella said was tickling his brain. “Gimme just a sec.” He got up and fetched his laptop from his room. By the time he had returned to the living room he was already typing in search terms.

“Aha! I knew it!”

Caramella almost dropped her coffee. “W-what? What is it?”

He set the laptop down and spun it around for her to look at. “Something about your story sounded pretty familiar. With a quick Google I found what I was looking for. Check it out.”

Caramella squinted into the screen. Then she gasped. “Holes!”

“Portals, not holes.” he corrected. “This article is from this past summer. Someone posted a crappy cellphone video showing off some crazy stuff happening at a high school down in California. The news ran with it of course, but most people called it out as a hoax, myself included. Now though... well, the proof is in the pudding I suppose. Chocolate pudding, to be precise.”

“But...” She looked up at Alan with questioning blue eyes. “You said this happened months ago! I-it’s only been a couple of hours for me!”

Alan rubbed his chin in thought. That definitely was odd, but as his knowledge only extended as far as mixed drinks and not theoretical physics, he struggled to find an adequate answer. Another question rumbled around as well; why hadn’t she appeared in California? Or, hell, even Vancouver? Did those rifts happen all over the world? He imagined hundred of others like himself finding little furry equines on their front porches. Hopefully they were let inside; the alternatives were far less pleasant.

He shook his head, snapping himself back to the present. Caramella was starting to hyperventilate—tears threatened to break free once again. Acting quickly, he sat next to the frightened mare and, with slight hesitation, ran his hand over her head and down her silky mane in a tender fashion. “You’re fine, trust me, Caramella. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” She flinched at first, but just like his old dog, she started to calm down. The pair sat like that for a few moments while Alan typed some searches into the computer with his free hand.

“W-what are you doing?” she finally asked, gently batting away his hand with a faint blush.

“Checking out how long a drive to Canterlot takes.”

Her upper body shot up. “C-canterlot?!”

He nodded. “The article says that’s where the video was shot. I figure our best bet at getting you home lies there. Looks like the drive is about, uhh... well it’s a long ways away, give or take.” Pivoting his head, he said, “I did say ‘we’ didn’t I? I promise, you’ll be home before you know it. Heck, I’ll even pinky promise you...er... hoof promise? How’s that sound?”

“B-but what about your bar? I mean—”

“Trust me, it’s fine. Really.” He ran a hand through his hair and muttered the next part more to himself. “A few days away from this dump will be good...”

He held out his fist and shot her a wide smile. Caramella looked at the offered fist, than to Alan with wide eyes. Then she bumped her hoof with him and returned the smile.