Once A Brony, Always A Brony

by EpicBG

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Tragedy, Twilight Sparkle, Human
Length: 6519

I don't really know what a brony is, but I guess I was one...

Two whole years of my life. Gone. I can't remember anything that happened. Friends forgotten, memories moot, and lessons lost. To lose my sense of identity, the one thing that I can truly own, is unbelievably painful. I don't know who I am anymore, I only know who I was two years ago - a completely different person.

WARNING: This fic contains copious amounts of profanity

(Yes, I am well aware that there's another story with the same title, please do not tell me)

((This is a One-Shot, meaning there will be no additional chapters))

(((This is a little something that I write because I got the feels. If you wish to know more, then please read the Author's Note at the end of the story)))

Published 2012-07-09 15:04:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-09 15:04:01 UTC

Once A Brony, Always A Brony

It seems that I have somehow developed a severe form of amnesia, the mostly affected part of my memory being the last two years of my life, or so the doctors say. I know my name, and who I am, or rather who I was, but that’s it. The many friends that I have made during the last two years know me, but I don’t know them. It’s really sad to say that I once knew these people, yet no longer do.

Names are thrown around, yet nothing sticks to my mind, not least yet anyways. People come and go from my room in the hospital; drugs are stuck into me to help me be, as it were. Most of them, especially the doctors, still talk to me as if I have a room temperature IQ, which seriously pisses me off, but I guess that’s what I should expect having survived a car crash. Everybody keeps telling me that I’m lucky to be alive, but I’m just glad that nobody else got hurt because of my dumb ass – well, light poles don’t count as people.

The doctor knocked on my door and says my name questioningly, so I asked him, “Yes?” and he walked over to me and said that I have visitors. I asked him who, but no less than a second later I saw my parents walking into the room with tears in their eyes. My mom rushes over and hugs me; I hugged her back as best I can through all of the wires and tubes around and in me. “Hey,” I said. My voice is cracked and quiet. I see my old man come over and wrap his giant hands around my mother’s shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. She's always been the emotional type.

“How’re you doing?” he asked, to which I shrugged weakly.

“I’ve been better.” I croak out, and then follow the statement with a laugh that turns into a desperate gasp for air, which sends the machines around me into a flurry of beeps. I roll onto my side and hack out something, it’s black like coal.

My mom turns around and sobs louder into my dad’s shoulder. “Ma,” I say in nearly a whisper. “Ma.” I repeat. She turns around; her beautiful blue eyes are red and bloodshot.

I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like to get that phone call, or to have a police officer knock on their door, and say, “Your son has been in a car accident, he’s in critical condition and may not make it. I’m sorry and send my condolences, Miss.” I wonder how many times they’ve had to do that before. It comes with the job I guess.

Seeing my mom like this hurts more than anything else - not the pounding headache, not the fractured arm, not even the stitches on my forehead, or even the skin graph on my leg. With my father’s help, I sit upright and beckon my mom over. I lunged forward and brushed her dark hair away from her ear before whispering into it, “I’m alright, and I promise I’ll make it.” She seems to lighten up a bit from that. I smile and choke some more before I hear footsteps, then the wooden door opens and an elderly nurse comes in with a metal cart laden with a plate and a single orange bottle of those godly painkillers that I’ve learned to love during the few weeks I’ve been here in the hospital.

“I hope you’re hungry.” She says in an overly cheery voice before walking away back into the hallway. By god, I wanted to punch her in those disgustingly white teeth.

After scarfing a bottle, which contained three pills, I drunk from the plastic cup of orange juice and silently let the pills work their magic. When the tingling in my body subsided after a few minutes, I opened my eyes and I looked down at the plate of food with disgust. Hospital food always sucks, and always will. Unfortunately for me, the medication seems to work better when I eat something, so I have to eat at least a little of the grub unless I want to stay in excruciating pain until dinnertime.

Thinking my arm’s healed enough to use it, I try to grab the fork with my left arm, the shattered one, and shout a long string of swears in pain before ending in a stifled moan. Bad idea. Why did I have to be born left-handed? Thanks, genetics. I grasp the fork as best I can in my right hand and shakily stab it into the kiddie-sized piece of chicken parmesan, or at least what was supposed to be chicken parmesan. It was better than I remember hospital food being, but nothing like my mom’s cooking. I dropped the fork at the far side of the plate, and tried to reach it, but it was just out of my grasp. My mom sees my struggle and takes the fork in her hand, and drives it into another piece of chicken.

“Seriously?” I ask. I reached forward to grab it out of her hands, but she pulls backwards and shakes her head. I roll my eyes and reluctantly let her begin feeding me like an infant.

A few days later, my girlfriend, Sarah, and best friend, Collin, showed up at the hospital. Collin had something behind his back, so I called him out on it and he presented to me a partially melted iPhone. “Is that… mine?” He nodded. To my surprise, it actually turned on. “Was this with me when…”

“Yep.” Sarah said in her cute little voice. I’m glad that I met Collin and her long enough ago so that I remember them. They do look different from what I can remember, but they’re still clearly the same people. I was shocked when the screen displayed a picture of a purple… unicorn?

“Are you sure that this is mine? I mean look,” I turned the phone so that they both could see the screen. “What the hell is this thing? A unicorn?” The pure shock on Collin’s face was terrifying, as if he couldn’t believe what I had just said.

“You’re telling me you don’t even remember Twilight?” I swear I saw tears welling up in the corner of his eye. Sarah looked happy to see that I couldn’t remember who Twilight was. Collin swiped the phone out of my hand and tapped an icon, watched something load, then typed something into the on-screen keyboard. He tapped on something else, and held out the phone to me. Netflix. I could remember what that was, at least.

“What’re you showing me, dude?” He slapped his hand into his face and gave me a glare that said, ‘Just be patient.’

He tossed the phone into my lap, and when I picked it up I heard a voice that I felt I somehow knew say, “Once upon a time, in the magical land of Equestria -” I paused the video.

“What the fuck is this?”

Collin didn’t appreciate being talked to rudely. “How about you shut the fuck up, watch it, and keep your questions to yourself.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I listened to the strangely familiar, regal voice go on and talk about Equestria, and when I heard the word ponies I paused it again. “That’s what that purple thing was, a pony?” I asked. Collin nodded, then reached over and tapped the play button again. The narrator’s voice melted into another, even more ominously familiar voice. The camera panned down and zoomed onto a purple unicorn, the same one that was the wallpaper on my iPhone.

Five or so minutes into the episode I’d learned that the unicorn’s name was Twilight Sparkle, and that she was the protégé of a pony princess named Celestia. That’s a pretty name, I thought. Sarah excused herself to go into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, she was obviously mad at Collin. Collin was about to go chasing down the corridor after her, but he saw me pause the video and turned back to face me. “Press. The. Fuckin’. Button.”

“Why?” I asked. “This is fucking stupid! It’s gay! It’s meant for little children, not fully grown up adults like you and I -” Before I could finish my rant, Collin slapped me right across the face.

“Never say that it’s gay. Take that back!” He grabbed me by my collar and lifted me up a few inches off the bed. The veins in his neck were poking out and I swear he was about to start foaming at the mouth when he shouted, “Take it back!” again. The machine next to me beeped faster as my heart rate rose higher and higher.

“Okay,” I said. “I take it back, I take it back! It’s not gay!” He dropped me and my head collided with the pillow. I sighed and rubbed the side of my head as best I could with the oxygen meter on my index finger. Collin tossed his hoodie into the side of the room where there was a chair and rolled up his sleeve, then ran his hands through his long blonde hair to keep himself calm, cool, and composed - as was his habit when he was extremely pissed off. I looked at his upper arm and saw a tattoo of a cloud with tricolored lightning striking down from it.

“Is this gay?” He asked while flexing his muscles. I shook my head for fear of him choking me out, and kept my thoughts to myself. Having surviving a voluntary term in the army, I knew that Collin could take me down twenty-seven different ways in a heartbeat, so I kept my fat mouth shut.

“Would a faggot get a tattoo like this on his arm?” Yes! I wanted to say it so bad, but didn’t. I couldn’t lest I want to get my ass kicked and for him to get arrested or something else stupid. Collin put his hoodie back on, but didn’t zip it back up. I saw him close his hand into a fist a few times, and watched as a loud crack reverberated out from his neck. He took a deep breath and said, “Listen,” he began. “I’m sorry. I just… never thought I’d hear you say that.” He extended his arm out towards me in a fist and asked, “Brohoof?” I shrugged, and asked him what that meant. He frowned and pulled his arm back to his side. I weakly punched my knuckles into his and was relieved to see that he was smiling. “I’ll tell ya later.”

“So… we’re cool, right?” I asked. Collin nodded with a smug grin on his face.

“Tell ya what, when you get outa this shit hole, I’ll let you take a few punches at me.” I smirked through the pulsing pain all over my body. Collin hasn’t changed at all from what I remember. I asked him why, and he said, “I feel bad about what I just did, man.” And left it at that while he spaced out, staring outside of the window towards the bright, nearly blinding, orange sun.

Sarah came back in a few minutes later to see Collin and I watching MLP, as Collin called it, on the small screen of the iPhone. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic… even the title sounds childish. I ask myself how I ever liked this, but get no answer. Honestly, I was starting to think it was some sort of sick joke, but something inside of me said that it wasn’t.

The same elderly nurse with the bleached teeth came in to tell Collin and Sarah that visiting hours were nearly over. Collin reached into his pocket and tossed me a tangle of wire. Earbuds. He told me that they were mine, too. Sarah didn’t say anything; she just smiled at me and walked out of the door. When I noticed that she’d left, I beckoned Collin over. “What’s her problem, dude?”

He shrugged. “I’ll explain later after I’ve tried to talk some sense into her.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Take care, buddy.” Collin flashed me his trademark, broken toothed smile before walking out of the door. I listened to his heavy leather boots click against the tiled floor, and once the sound faded I collapsed into the pillow. The warm embrace of sleep took me from a world of pain into one where no such thing even existed.

Nobody showed up for the next few days, so I had to keep myself entertained. There were enough games on the phone to keep me relatively sane, but not enough for my entire stay at the hospital. Who knows how long I’ll be in here, I thought. I silently cursed myself for not jailbreaking the iPhone. I had been lying there with the phone in my hand, moving my fingers over the melted plastic on the back of it. I turned it over to see what it looked like, and actually, it looked pretty cool. I turned it on and tapped the music icon.

As best I could with my broken arm, I scrolled down through the list of both familiar and unfamiliar names: Archie V, Breaking Benjamin, Chain Algorithm, deadmau5, Eurobeat Brony – I stopped there. What the hell is a brony? Dammit, I know this! It is literally on the tip of my tongue – but I can’t quite grasp it. To the Internet! I tapped the home button, then the browser, and typed in ‘Brony’ into the search with my right hand. Urban Dictionary. Nope, forget it. Wikipedia. Sure, that’s never let me down.

'The fandom adopted the name brony (plural bronies), a portmanteau of "bro" and "pony".' Okay, that makes a bit more sense, I thought. 'The adult male fans have come under some ridicule from some entities for their enjoyment of a girl's show, but other groups, including Faust, have come to defend the fandom.' Aaand… now I feel like a complete and total asshole… great job, me. You’re an amazing friend, you truly are. "Faust… Lauren Faust made this? Didn’t she make Power Puff Girls, Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends, and a ton of other cartoons? Whoa. Nothing she makes or influences can suck, it’s just not possible! Okay, maybe it isn’t that bad after all."

I read through the rest of the page about the ‘Derpy Mishap’ and Mister John De Lancie doing some voice acting. There was an image of a girl cosplaying as some cyan pegasus pony named Rainbow Dash. On the girl’s leg, I saw the same mark that was tattooed on Collin’s arm. So, that mark involved some pony named Rainbow Dash, got it. The rest of the page was a bunch of rambling bullshit that didn’t make too much sense, but I still read all of it nonetheless.

Towards the end of the page, the words 'pedophila, homosexuality, and immaturity' pop out of the text and make my brow furrow. How the hell do you relate a cartoon show about magical talking horses to… that? Well, I mean, I could understand the latter two, maybe, but… that? You know, I really hate people sometimes. It dawned on me that I had pretty much called Collin a faggot.

“I am such a fucking hypocrite.” I slumped down in depression and punched down as hard as I could into the bed - with my left hand. I watched as the bed formed a divot and accepted the weight of my arm. I heard a sickening and grotesque crack come from my forearm and watched helplessly as the bone poked through my skin, forming a kind of second elbow that nature never intended for me to have. I instantly passed out from the indescribable pain. When I woke up, I watched as the doctor scolded me, but I couldn’t understand him; he sounded like one of the adults from The Peanuts cartoons. When he walked away and slammed the door shut, my ears rang momentarily and then my deafness faded into the loud sound of my heart beating in my throat. The first thing that I noticed when I looked down was that the cast was a different color. They must’ve had to change it, I thought. I’m glad that I was knocked out, because if that hurt like hell the first time, I can’t imagine what it would’ve been like the second time. The second thing I noticed, which was making my heart beat so rapidly, was an incredibly hot nurse rubbing the blue plaster cast around my arm.

She gave me a cute wave and walked out of the room. I lazily waved back and shook my head once she closed the door. I screamed into my pillow, then took a deep breath and said to myself, “You’re a fucking moron. You deserve this, Asshole.”

Hours later, I was sitting in my bed - broken and confused, thinking about who I really am, was, whatever. The thoughts seem to come back piece-by-piece, in tiny snippets of memories. It’s nerve wracking, to say the least. My head was pounding and I simply felt like dying, but I know I can’t. I won’t. With every ounce of strength that I could muster, I reached to my side and held down the button to call for a nurse. No less than a minute later the same stunningly gorgeous nurse comes in and asks me if she could help at all.

A few thoughts came to mind, but once again I kept them to myself. I couldn’t hear her – only watch her lips move as the spoke. You have a girlfriend! Control yourself, dammit! I screamed at myself mentally before shaking my head wildly and asking her for some kind of medication for the splitting headache. She giggled and walked away, and said that she’d be right back. I actually physically slapped myself after I watched her butt jiggle under those pink scrubs when she walked out of the room.

The pills took almost an entire hour to kick in, but once they did, I was finally able to catch a nod of sleep. I don’t really remember having any dreams, the only remotely dream-like thing that happened was hearing the same familiar voice of that purple unicorn saying to me, “Remember who you are, who you always will be.” And just like that, I was awake and questioning the statement. Ever since I’ve gotten amnesia, the ominous and familiar voices seem to creep their ways into my dreams wherever possible.

Most of the times it’s in the form of subliminal messages that shock me awake because I realize that I’m asleep. I’ve tried many times to have conversations with them, but they always say something cryptic. The voice I hear most often is that of the purple unicorn, Twilight Sparkle. She seemed to have some sort of bond to me, but I don’t really know why. I guess I liked her a lot, but I can’t see why she’s any different from any of the other ponies aside from the fact that she likes to read and has a horn...

When I woke up there was a plate of cold scrambled eggs, three slices of fake bacon, or fakon, a single slice of unbuttered toast, and a bottle containing two painkillers to my side placed on a small table with wheels that reached over my bed. It’s better than nothing, I thought. I knew that they would have to wean me off of the medication eventually, but it felt way too early to even think about it. After eating, I reached into my pillowcase and turned on the phone, only to be saddened when I saw the battery at two percent. I had just enough time to call Collin and tell him to bring the sync cable and AC power adapter before it died mid-call. “Fuck.” I put the phone back into the pillowcase and groaned. “There goes my only source of reliable entertainment…”

I looked all around the room for something, anything, to do. Nobody else was in the room with me, so I couldn’t strike up a meaningless conversation unless I wanted to look insane and talk to myself, which I didn’t. I couldn’t find a book, or even a magazine anywhere, and I’m certain that the nurses didn’t want to hear me bitch and moan about being bored to tears. On the far side of the small drawer next to me, next to a small lamp, I saw a black TV remote, but it was just out of reach. Fuck my life. I tried as best I could, but I couldn’t reach the damn remote enough to get a grip on it. In a final, last ditch effort, I slammed my right arm down and the remote flipped and twirled through the air and landed onto my lap. I shout in victory, which made one of the nurses peek her head into the room to see what was going on. I smiled innocently and watched as she walked away and slammed the door shut behind her. I took a few seconds to ensure that she’d walked away and said under my breath, “Cunt.”

The TV was in the far corner of the room, and it wasn’t very big, but I could still watch it without having to squint or strain my eyes too much. The TV was set to some stupid football game that I muted while I looked through the listing for something watchable. I eventually settled for a cartoon called ‘Transformers Prime’ on the HUB station. Now, I knew for certain that I’d heard that station before, but from where? A TV show about giant alien robots that can transform into automobiles and beat the shit out of each other? Yeah, It’s difficult not to like Transformers no matter who you are. There were two back-to-back episodes that took up an entire hour, which I was absent-mindedly watching - not really paying any attention to the show, but rather just watching the movements and colors change.

“Next up is My Little Pony.” What? Abort, abort! Change channel! The remote in my hand clicked under my fingers, but wouldn’t change the station on the TV. What now, I ask myself. I saw the buzzer to call a nurse, and in a desperate lunge, I pressed it down. There were no buzz, no footsteps, no voices – nothing. I pried open the back of the remote, then the back of the buzzer and was distraught to find that the remote used two AAA batteries, and the buzzer used a single AA. I grabbed the remote and poorly tossed it with my right hand towards the TV in hopes of shattering it, but missed horribly and broke the vase of an ugly fake tree in the corner of the room. I hoped that I had made enough noise to get somebody’s attention, but nobody so much as walked by the room. The pillow couldn’t block any of the sound coming from the TV, and I couldn’t block both my ears with one hand.

“Nurse! Help, I’m dying!” Nobody could hear me over the sound of the television. I groan loudly and stare up into the white ceiling, wishing that I hadn’t crashed that fucking car. I thought for a second, what if I really was dying, and immediately felt extremely unsafe in the hands of the incompetent hospital staff. With nothing to do, I begin staring at the TV. I was conflicting whether or not I should really watch it, but something told me that I must, not that I should. It repeated itself three times over, each time getting seemingly more desperate in its attempt at persuading me until the voice became an ominous echoe. I mentally conceded and said "Okay." to it and removed the pillow from my head. At first I did it simply to humor myself, and the feeling, but then I really get into it; I even cheer along with all the other ponies when I see Rainbow Dash do the Sonic Rainboom.

When the episode ended, I said in a mere whisper, “That wasn’t too bad – not nearly as bad as I thought. As a matter of fact, not bad at all.” The door slammed open, and I see Collin’s grinning face looking down at me. “It’s, uh, exactly what it looks like.” I follow the statement with a smug grin and extend my hand out in a fist. “Brohoof?” I ask. I don’t think my knuckles have ever hurt so good before.

After that night, a large chunk of my memories had returned once I woke up in the morning, but there were still some bits and pieces missing from my mind – small details that I would’ve forgotten eventually anyways. Collin had asked me to watch at least three episode of MLP with him, and then to decide whether or not I like it. How could I not? He said that I was the one who got him to like it in the first place, and that he acted much like I had. Collin also said that I had an encyclopedic knowledge of the show, much like his.

Sadly, Sarah and I seemed to have grown further apart as a result, but if she doesn’t like me for who I am, then why should I have to deal with her? One morning Collin had said, “Bronies before hoenies.” jokingly. He thought it was hilarious, and slapped me on the back playfully, but when he saw my face he could tell that I didn’t think it was funny at all.

Collin had been staying with me for nearly every day, re-teaching me all about the show much like I had done with him so long ago. Ponies’ names, color schemes, personalities – everything. He’s even made these flash cards with pictures to quiz me on everything you could think of. They’re a little bit silly, but they definitely get the job done. Aside from the quizzes, we also watched the entirety of MLP within a week. Collin brought in an old DVD player, and made a total of twelve discs - six for each season. He nearly got into a fistfight with one of the security guys, but I managed to talk the situation out with nobody losing any teeth, or any more in Collin’s case, and be allowed to use the DVD player. Of course, early on in the week, I’d decided that Twilight is the best pony of them all, so my guess about liking her was correct.

As a weird way of thanking me, one day Collin showed up with a black shirt that had a picture of Twilight Sparkle making a silly duck face, and on the bottom of the shirt it said ‘Twilightlicious’ in a fancy sparking font. I asked him if the shirt was mine, and he said, “It is now!” before tossing it over to me.

They made me leave the hospital in a wheelchair, as per rules, but the second I was out of the door I cracked my knuckles and gave Collin a quick jab in the gut, then laughed as he doubled over in pain. “Thanks, by the way.” I turned around, thanked the nurse, and helped Collin to his feet again. His face screwed up in both pain and joy at the same time. “Race?” I asked. Collin had already started off in a sprint to his pimped-out jalopy, but I wasn’t too far behind him. It felt amazing to finally be outside after being stuck in that sterile hospital for three and a half months. I’m not much of an athlete, but feeling the air flow through my hair was an amazing sensation.

Collin’s car made horrible noises all the way to the flower shop where I picked up some amethyst purple flowers for Sarah. I knocked on her door and got on a knee with the flowers clenched in both my hands. What I saw next I could never have prepared for. Sarah wore what seemed to be a generic black wristband, but when she turned her hand I saw in large, blocky white text the word ‘BRONY’ carved into it. I turned around to Collin and saw him leaning against the hood of his car smoking a cig. He flashed me a wink before I could even mouth him the question. Best damn wingman a guy could ask for…

Sarah crossed her arms and smiled down at me and asked if the flowers were for her. “Of course,” I said. “I see Collins’ gotten to you, eh?” I pointed to her wrist. She smirked while blushing a bit before she bent down to kiss me on the nose. I stood up and swept Sarah off of her feet and she gave a cute squeak in surprise before I kissed her on the lips. Her hazel eyes were clasped shut; I opened my right eye and saw Collin giving me the thumbs up.

I had fallen asleep in my bed with Sarah in my arms when a loud ping woke me up. I crawled out from under Sarah and walked out into kitchen to get a glass of orange juice to wake up with. Instead of returning to the bedroom and going back to sleep, I decided to take a seat in the living room and watch the sunrise. There, on the couch, was the lavender mare – she was curled up into a little ball with her hooves tucked underneath her. I nearly dropped the glass on the floor.

She held the red ribbon of a scroll in her mouth and levitated a crimson quill into my hands with her pink aura. The quill tingled on the skin of my fingers; I thought that it was probably her magic, so I didn’t freak out at the alien sensation. The tingling subsided after a second and turned into a warm feeling on my fingertips. I inspected the quill, and sure enough it looked exactly like one of Philomena’s, or at least some kind of phoenix. Twilight winked at me and then said, “You’ve learned a valuable lesson in not only friendship, but life. Would you be willing to write a letter about it to Princess Celestia?” I didn’t know whether or not I was still asleep, but I was still happy to oblige. I placed my glass on the wooden coffee table in front of the couch, took a seat next to Twilight, and was about to begin writing the letter in my shaking hand, but I had to do something first: I poked Twilight and nearly fainted when I felt my finger jab against her ribcage.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, hah, I just really needed to be certain you were real. Nothing weird, I promise.” She nodded and closed her eyes. I located the inkwell on the side of the wooden table, dipped the quill in, and looked down at the papyrus and started writing...

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’d never written with a quill before, it was a bit difficult because of the lack of weight to it, but I felt that I could do a legible job of it once I figured out what I wanted to write. I sat there for a few minutes, simply staring at the page while asking myself what to write. I looked down at Twilight and saw her horn glowing softly in a fuchsia color, casting the room in pink light. Her horn dimmed until the glow receded into the tip of it and the room returns to the normal, boring cream color. I took a deep breath and tasted something metallic, magic again, I thought. My thoughts began rushing and I cracked my knuckles and wrote the first thing that came to mind.

The friends we make are our best assets in life not only because they will always be there for us, but also because they truly care for us. To lose something, a part of myself, which was thought to be gone forever was unbelievably painful. Without the selfless help of my friend, I would have lost that part of me which means so much to not only myself, but many other people.

I signed my name on the bottom of it, and instantly felt the odd sensation of exhaustion flow over me. I closed my eyes and fell asleep on the couch.

I awoke with the scroll still clasped in my hand, the ink having long since dried. I found an old Zippo lighter in my bureau back from the days when I smoked and calmly walked outside into the backyard. I held the scroll in my right hand and clicked the flint wheel and held the gas down. The blue flame instantly encompassed the scroll and turned it into a sparkling green cloud. I watched as it floated up into the sky and towards the sun.

I nearly dropped the metal lighter when I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Hey,” Sarah said. “We’ve got guests.” I asked her who, but she didn’t say. I walked back into the house and saw Collin’s car parked in the driveway. I was about to ask where Collin was, but the deafening shouts of ‘Surprise!’ stopped me.

“I was outside for ten minutes, and you singlehandedly set up a surprise party. How, dare I ask?” Sarah simply smiled at me. “Whatever… Pinkie.” I said jokingly, but she didn’t hear me. I see my friends crowded the living room where Twilight was, each wearing party hats and the likes. There was even a piñata and silly children games like pin the tail on the donkey, which I’ve always liked. I thanked everybody by name, and watched as they were relieved to see that I remembered them.

“Heya, Collin.” I said upon seeing him walk out of the door with an unlit cigarette clasped in between his lips.

“What?”

“Could I have one?” I asked, suddenly feeling particularly stressed.

“You don’t smoke, though. Well, not anymore, anyways.”

“I got something to tell you. You’re not going to believe this shit, I don’t even really believe it, so give me a god damn butt.” He plucked the cancer stick from his lips and handed it to me. I couldn’t care less; I’ve got a fully functioning immune system for a reason, after all. I thanked him and closed the front door behind me while digging through my pants pocket for the lighter with my other hand.

“I’ve got you, bro.” Collin brought his already lit cigarette to the unlit one in my mouth. I took a deep inhale and felt the nicotine flow through me, warming me from the inside. It was like the first time I’d ever smoked all over again, except I didn’t cough my ass off. I felt a bit guilty, having not smoked for seven whole years, but I think I was justified in having to tell a friend about a fictional pony asking me to write a letter to another fictitious pony princess.

“Okay,” I exhaled the held breath, feeling much more relaxed than I did before. “I, uh, just had something impossible happen. I know you aren’t going to believe me, but –“

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Sarah said while poking her head out of the door.

“Smoking.” I replied nonchalantly.

“Want one?” Collin added, brandishing the pack with a single cigarette poking up from it. “C’mon, you know you want it.” He said tantalizingly while shaking the box back and forth. He knew damn well that Sarah had been a smoker and just recently quit, and he used that to his advantage - hell, he was the one that finally got her to quit! She wouldn’t listen to me, and I don’t know what he said to her, but it was damn effective. Why he asked her if she wanted to smoke I’ll perhaps never know. Collin’s mind works in very weird ways.

“Y’know, I really fucking hate you sometimes.” Collin smiled, flashing his set of broken teeth. “Damned peer pressure.” She said while laughing. Collin tossed her the lighter, and she sparked up the cigarette. “That’s…” Sarah exhaled a ring of white smoke “Better.”

“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” I glared at Sarah; she stuck her tongue out at me. “For lack of a better word, I was… visited this morning.” Collin’s brow rose, and Sarah looked at me quizzically. I took a deep inhale of the cancer stick before saying, “Twilight Sparkle. She was sitting on the couch and she asked me to write a letter to, you guessed it, Princess Celestia. Now, I don’t know how fucked up I was, but it happened. However, what I do know is that you don’t believe me, whatever, that’s cool, but – “

“I believe you.” Collin interrupted. “No worries, dude. Right, Sarah?” She nodded in agreement. I sighed as I felt a sort of weight lifted from my shoulders. I knew that I didn’t have any obligation to tell them, of course, but it just felt wrong to keep it to myself.

“I don’t know. I just… don’t know. First I get fucking amnesia, then this crazy-ass realistic hallucination? What’s next,” I took a moment to think of something absolutely obscene. I heard something lightly tap against the asphalt driveway behind me, but I ignored it; the entire time, Collin, and Sarah were staring at me like I had three heads. “Fuckin’… I don’t know, Princess Celestia swoops down from the sky and – “ I made a hand motion and a swoosh noise for comedic effect.

“Ahem.”

…

“Ho-ly shit.”

…

“You done fucked up, bro.”

…

“Uh-huh…”

A/N: Oh man, where do I even begin with this? Well, this started out as an idea I had a while ago – like, four or so months? I don’t know, but it was while I was at school. I was looking through the notebook that I bring with me to school and I saw it and said, “Hey, I remember this! I should totally write it!” So I did. I began writing this a few weeks ago, and I wrote it because it felt like I’d forgotten who I am – I didn’t give a shit about anything, MLP in particular, and honestly I was starting to think that it (the TV show) sucked.

No, this is not a self-insert, either - I'm not left handed, nor do I smoke, or have a girlfriend named Sarah - however, Collin is based off of a friend of mine with the same name, but he isn't quite as much of a rebel. I apologize for the shit-tastic ending.