Super Spooky Pony Story No. 666

by naturalbornderpy

Rating: teen
Tags: King Sombra, Random, Human, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Pinkie Pie
Length: 3872

It's Halloween night. Time for candy, bad horror movies, and booze. Yet there's a pony outside, standing in the rain. I think she wants inside. But why?

It's Halloween night. Time for candy, bad horror movies, and booze.

Yet there's a pony outside, standing in the rain. She's even holding a balloon.

I think she wants inside. But why?

Hopefully my pony roommate and I can figure that out before it's too late.

A Sombra and Steve Halloween story for some reason. Artwork by CawinEMD.

Published 2017-10-26 21:20:07 UTC
Last updated 2017-10-26 21:20:07 UTC

Micro-wave

It was Halloween night and I was a little more than drunk and high at the time. Earlier that day, around six or seven in the morning, my roommate and I started our annual “horror” movie marathon; alongside our annual “marathon” of beer, chips, chocolate, and anything tasty and close at hand.

Typical Halloween behavior for a lot of people, I’d imagine.

Here’s where things might differ.

For starters, my roommate wasn’t human. Rather, he was a three-and-a-half-foot tall unicorn with grey fur and a black mane and tail. Complete with a curved red horn atop his head if you didn’t think his look was sinister enough. I could go into more detail how he’d magically popped into this world out of my toaster some years ago, but… you know what? I think I’m a little too inebriated to backtrack down that road.

Although I will quickly mention he used to be a king. A king of what, you ask?

Mattresses, he says. But I don’t buy it.

“You know, Steve,” Sombra said as I returned to the couch, taking my usual left side next to his right, “I think I’ve found the perfect name for him.”

“For who?” I asked.

Sombra motioned towards the TV.

“Adam Sandler. Or better yet… the Sad Clown.”

The other thing that wasn’t typical about our traditional Halloween was that our movie marathon involved nothing but whatever Adam Sandler films we could find on Netflix. Which, if you know Netflix at all, was probably more than anyone should legally view. Maybe Sombra and I were only tempted to see which one of us would crack first.

“In the beginning,” Sombra continued on in a lecturelike tone, “he still had that light in his eyes. He had a soul. It was clear. I could see it.”

I nodded along. “Sure. Billy Madison-era.”

Our first film of the day.

Sombra took a deep breath. “But now? He is empty. Like a walking corpse that silently screams to be put out of its misery. And do we help it? Do we assist in its demise? No. We only continue to watch. To watch him dance. For he is only the clown now. The sad clown. And when he gives us that final performance of his—his murder-suicide alongside Kevin James—we will finally understand just what he was trying to tell us all along.”

Instead of acting amazed by this revelation, I rolled my eyes.

“That’s it. You’re cut off. No more pot for you.”

The pair of pointy ears atop his head lowered. “That’s not fair! I’m twelve-percent smoke!”

And as if to prove just that, he dispersed into a thick mound of black smoke in order to slither into the nearby kitchen. I heard the fridge door open then slam shut. Sombra returned less than a second later, clearly annoyed as he returned to his physical form.

“Someone’s drank the last beer, Steve!”

“Yes. That was you. Twenty minutes ago.”

“I did no such thing!” Somehow, he managed to cross both hooves over his chest. “Must’ve been that darn ghost of ours again, drinking all our booze.”

“Ghosts don’t exist, Sombra.”

He chose to ignore that, directing his eyes to the ceiling above. “Get some help alcoholic ghost! Get your miserable pasty self to A.A.A. already!”

Sombra turned to me with a proud grin.

“Curious what the extra A stands for, Steve?”

I didn’t even need to ponder. “Afterlife?”

His proud smile instantly flipped. “I’m the clever one here, Steve! Not you!”

“Clearly.” I pointed to the TV. On it was the image of Adam Sandler dressed up as both a man and women, together in the same shot. “Did you know he invented cloning just for this film?”

Sombra’s eyes expanded. “Truly? My word! Sandler really is a gift to this Earth. How has no one cracked open that skull of his to nab all the nuggets of knowledge that lay within?”

I smirked. Sometimes it was fun having a roommate that knew next to nothing about Earth and humanity. Then I stood and went to the window in search of the delivery guy. I knew he’d be here soon. Heck. I put on pants for the bastard. He better show up soon.

Then I hitched in a breath as I saw her.

“What the heck?”

Down below, in the parking lot of my condo complex stood another pony, staring up at me. She was pink. Very pink. With a big, bushy tail and mane. In one upraised hoof she held a red balloon that floated ominously at her side. It was all very strange. As was the fact that it was raining and windy outside… and yet she seemed unaffected by any of it.

Even her balloon string remained as straight as a ruler.

“Sombra?” I asked, only turning around for a moment. When I came back, the pink mare seemed a few steps closer. Or was that merely my imagination? My imagination mixed with twelve hours worth of booze and pot? “Want to come here for a moment?”

On the couch, Sombra had been mumbling something about how Scorsese should direct Daniel Day-Lewis as Sandler in a biopic to get him out of retirement. “Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. But I’m not walking.”

Whoosh!

Smoke Sombra oozed his way towards me.

I coughed into my fist as he reformed. “I don’t even want to think what the hazards of ingesting you might be. I’m sure by forty-five, I’ll have a cancer that’ll put all other cancers to shame. Super cancer or something similar.”

Beside me, Sombra awkwardly climbed onto a chair to get a better look. “If that’s the case, name it after me, okay?” He directed his attention to the rain-soaked parking lot. “Why did I come here again?”

I forcefully angled his head to the right.

“Oh,” he blurted. “I wonder what she wants.”

“Good question. But we shouldn’t do anything drastic. Let’s just—”

A few specks of rain dotted my shirt as Sombra ripped the window open and stuck his head out. “Hey! You! Pink-face! What do you want?”

Even through the window, the rain, and the rippling wind, I could hear the mare’s bubbly laugh, as well as what came next.

“I want you!” was her cheerful reply.

Sombra pulled his head back inside and closed the window, shaking the raindrops from his hair. “At least she’s direct.”

As we stood there in silence, my mind began to whirl. It was all starting to make sense. Or… enough sense to get worked up about. I quickly began muttering out of the corner of my mouth, not taking my eyes off the mare outside.

“Sombra? Remember ol’ Ms. Greenburg from across the lot?”

“No.”

“Well, I haven’t seen her for a while now, have you?”

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about, Steve. I only have like three Facebook friends.”

“And remember all those boxes and bags outside her condo last week?”

“I kept saying ‘no’ and yet you keep blabbering on. What’s wrong with you?”

“What if she wasn’t just moving out? What if all those garbage bags were actually filled with…” Dramatic pause. “Her! Because she’d been killed!”

“And you think it was that pink mare that did it?” Sombra finished.

Just hearing someone else speak it aloud was enough to get myself in motion.

“Stay here,” I told him. “I’m going to go get my phone. Don’t take your eyes off of her. Don’t even blink. Every time you blink, she gets closer. Understand?”

Sombra seemed hesitant. “I don’t think it works that way, Steve.”

Now it was my turn to proudly smirk.

“I think I’ve seen enough horror movies to know what I’m talking about here.”

***

It clearly was Halloween because my cellphone was dead. Cursing, I plugged it into my charger and marched straight back to Sombra, angrily flicking one of his ears the instant I noted how much closer the pink mare was to us.

“You looked away!” I yelled.

Sombra held a hoof to the ear I’d flicked. “But it was boring, Steve!”

“I don’t care!”

“My eyelids got heavy. I’m no good under pressure.”

“This might be a life-or-death situation here, Sombra,” I told him evenly. “If we’re gonna survive, we need to work together. Otherwise—”

Sombra motioned to the window. “Doesn’t matter. She’s clearly cheating. Look.”

And he was right. I was staring right at her and the pink mare continued to trot closer. She only disappeared for a few seconds underneath my balcony, before reappearing on my staircase, less than a dozen paces from our door.

Beside me, Sombra pulled open the window again. I instantly slammed it shut.

“But I wanted to tell her she’s cheating!” Sombra implored, as I grabbed him under the forelegs and yanked him away.

I made it all of two steps down my condo’s hallway before I realized I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t live in a house with a backdoor. I had the one exit and one exit only. Panicked, I stuck my head inside each room, hoping for inspiration.

Bathroom, bedroom, laundry, office.

I did a doubletake in my office. Still on the floor were the remains of Sombra and mine’s makeshift blanket fort that we used to exchange scary stories within. My stories included all the good Halloween stuff like bloody decapitations that ended with terrible twists. His stories mostly included overdue tax payments and cape stains that just wouldn’t wash out.

So you might hear the term “blanket fort” and think “regression” at once.

And you’d be right! Real life sucks anyways. Stay inside the fort at all cost.

I shoved Sombra inside the fort first, then followed, closing the bit of blanket covering the entrance. Turning on the flashlight I’d left in there, Sombra’s face was one of puzzlement, but I didn’t waste time trying to explain myself. I was still in pure “horror movie cliché” mode mixed with copious amounts of beer and pot.

Perhaps my reasoning was simple:

Remember when you were little and the only thing stopping the boogeyman from biting at your toes was the covers on your bed? My current mindset must’ve been thinking something like that.

Then there was a knock on the front door of my condo and both of us jolted. Sombra soon snickered.

“As if we’d just let her in because she knocked politely.”

Then the doorbell sounded, followed by another knock. A more aggressive one.

“Pizza delivery!” a clearly male voice called. “Yo! Anyone home?”

Sombra swiftly course corrected himself. “Maybe we actually should answer the door, Steve. Correction: you should go answer the door.”

I wanted to smack the pony. But the size of the blanket fort wouldn’t allow it.

Rather, I poked his nose with a finger. “For all we know, that voice could just be that pink pony pretending to be the delivery guy.”

“But what if it’s actually him!”

I sighed. “Then we miss out on pizza, simple as that. Are you really willing to take that risk on something so trivial?”

Another doorbell ring. Another knock.

"You want the pizza or not? We’ll charge you either way!”

Sombra licked his lips and nodded solemnly. “Yes, I really do believe I am willing to risk your life for pizza.”

***

It felt strange asking the delivery guy through the door if there was a pink pony beside him.

“You serious?” he replied. “I mean, sure, it’s Halloween night and there’s a few clowns and sexy witches out here, but… no ponies, dude. So, you want your pizza or what? If you hadn’t noticed, it’s raining out here and I’m getting soaked.”

I opened the door. Mainly because Sombra was standing behind me, painfully jabbing his sharp horn into my leg each second I wouldn’t let him in. Once inside, Sombra rushed past me and leapt onto the delivery guy’s gut, startling him.

“Lorenzo! How good to see you again!” Sombra exclaimed. “It’s been so long!”

My face flushed. Although I’d never admit it out loud, the fact that Sombra knew each of our delivery drivers by name and greeted each and every one with a big warm hug always hurt.

I muttered out, “Never greets me like that…”

Sombra stuck his head into Lorenzo’s shirt and sniffed. “Maybe if you permanently smelled like cheese the way Lorenzo does, I would.”

As stiff as a board, Lorenzo made no motion to pet Sombra. “Now I know why this place seemed familiar; it’s where the sarcastic guy with the overly-affectionate talking dog thing lives.” Then he opened the warming bag and handed out both pizzas. “One pepperoni and green pepper.”

“Mine,” I said, grabbing it and setting it aside.

“And one double-pepperoni, double-ham, double-sausage, double-bacon… you know what? The meat one. Here. Just take it.”

“That would be mine!” Sombra said happily, following the pizza in my hands to the living room coffee table.

While Lorenzo waited for the debit machine to read my card, he casually glanced around the room. Empty beer cans, candy wrappers, and all. “Halloween party?”

I pocketed the receipt. “Movie marathon. Adam Sandler films.”

Lorenzo only snorted. “Huh. Suddenly I don’t feel as depressed as I did this morning.”

I cocked a brow. “Didn’t you just call me the sarcastic one?”

And very soon after that, Lorenzo departed, leaving Sombra and I to feast on our fresh cheesy goodness. And, for all of two full slices, all was well. Until a rather looming thought came to mind.

“The pink pony!” I spat out, spitting out both words and food.

And as if on cue, someone knocked on the door.

“Pizza delivery!” a cheerful voice announced.

Sombra turned to me on the couch with evident admiration. “Oh, Steve. Two pizza deliveries in one night? You shouldn’t have.” Then he thought on that. “Okay. Actually, you should always order more than one pizza per night, but it’s the thought that counts.”

I leapt off the couch. “Don’t be dumb. It’s that mare!”

“Did I mention it’s free pizza?” the voice outside the door continued.

“Oh, wow! What a great deal!” Sombra said, sliding off the couch in the direction of the door.

Without explaining myself, I grabbed the back of his neck and guided him into the hall and then into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.

Sombra frowned. “Care to explain why our free pizza remains outside and not within the warm confines of my stomach, Steve?”

“Because you’re an idiot. And because I feel a whole lot better having two sets of locked doors between us and that mare.”

“Hello?” the mare called, closer than before. “Did someone perchance forget to lock their front door?”

Sombra frowned even harder. “Who’s the idiot now, human? Mr. Don’t Lock Doors Right Because I’m… Stupid and Stuff?” He blinked. “That’s you by the way. I gave you that name. Fits like a glove, doesn’t it?”

Lowering my voice, I searched the small bathroom for some kind of weapon. I grabbed the shampoo bottle first. What were the odds the mare would be allergic to my brand? Then I sat on the floor in defeat. What I really needed was my phone; hopefully charged in my bedroom at the end of the hall.

Then Sombra coughed and it all clicked into place.

I told Sombra in a hushed voice, “I need you to get into smoke mode and go get my phone. Slide it under the door on your way back.”

“But what about—”

“The pink mare?” I cut him off. “What’s she gonna do to a batch of smoke? Inhale you?”

Sombra thought to himself. It was clear he wasn’t interested. “I don’t know, Steve. I’ve used a lot of magic today. I traveled from the couch to the fridge. From the fridge to the couch. I think I’m drained.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair. I didn’t want to offer him this but felt I had no choice. “You do this for me… and I promise we’ll go couch shopping next week.”

At that, his tail actually wagged. “Really!? But you always say it’s too expensive! The couch that heats up and vibrates and has all the built-in drink coasters?”

I shrugged. “Can’t complain about high prices if I’m dead, can I?”

Eventually, Sombra slumped towards the door, sluggishly dissipating far more slowly than before. Half of his smoke-form slithered underneath the door before stopping and becoming solid again. And just like that I was left staring at Sombra’s upraised buttocks.

“A little help?” he sheepishly asked from the hallway.

I was so happy, I could cry. I’ve waited since the first day we met for a good reason to kick Sombra in the butt and here it was. And it felt wonderful.

***

A minute later, Sombra returned with my charged phone in tow. He stared at the bright screen while balancing it on a hoof. “What the number for 9-1-1 again?”

That’s all it took to snatch the phone away from him. Honestly, what was I expecting to happen? Hooves on a touchscreen phone? I dialed 9-1-1 and put the phone to my ear.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“Don’t laugh, but…” It was hard finding the right words, so I decided to lie instead. “There’s an intruder in my house. I don’t know what she wants, but I don’t think it’s good.”

“I see,” said the operator. “But didn’t the intruder already explain exactly what she wants?”

A solid block of ice formed in my gut. “I… uhh…”

“She said she wanted you, remember? The pink pony said that. The one outside.”

With each word the operator’s voice went higher and happier, suppressing giggles with every breath.

I stared down at Sombra, mouthing the words, “She’s on the phone!”

The pony on the other end chuckled. “And I’m in your dreams, too! And your vents! Speaking of which…” She coughed and spat. “Clean them out every once in a while?”

I tossed the phone away as if she might suddenly shoot out of it. Then I looked towards the ceiling and listened for any noises. Yet none of it made sense. Normal house vents were never big enough to hold someone, be them pony or human. That was more of an action film cliché, wasn’t it? Weren’t we still on horror related ones?

“Steve?” Sombra was pulling at my shirt, gathering my attention. “Steve… in the likely event that you die today while I manage to escape unharmed… I just want you to know… what it really was me that drank the last beer.”

I slapped both hands to my cheeks Home Alone style. “You mean there never was a ghost in our condo? Get right out of town!”

Sombra hung his head down in shame. “I’m afraid not. Is there… is there anything you want to get off your chest? Before the end?”

As a matter of fact…

“Yes. I’ve secretly been keeping track of all the money I’ve spent on you throughout the years.”

“And?”

“It’s a good thing you’re immortal, so you’ll have eternity to pay me back.”

Crash!

The ceiling came smashing down, and with it, the pink pony from before, coated in dust.

Sombra and I shrieked, clinging to each other.

The pink mare daintily cleared her throat. “As I was saying before… I want you!” Then she pulled a single letter from who knows where and held it out to me. “To have your mail back!”

Over and over, I glanced from the letter to her face. It was all too much.

But she just kept on smiling. “You see, I moved in just last week and got a bit of your mail with mine! So, I thought I’d come return it!”

In my chest, my heartbeat settled. My anger did not. “Then why didn’t you just say that from the start!”

That made her laugh. Everything seemed to. “Because it’s Halloween, silly! Everyone deserves a good scare on Halloween! Speaking of which, I was planning on baking some cookies tonight, but ran out of butter. Could I have two tea spoons worth of yours?”

“I guess.” I let go of Sombra, the overwhelming relief I felt evident on him as well. “I mean… who doesn’t like cookies, right?”

Sombra shrugged. “I like cookies. Sure.”

The pink mare’s smile only grew. “Great! Could I have one more teeny-tiny thing, too, perhaps?”

“What’s that?”

“Your soul?”

Her smile never stopped spreading. It only got bigger and bigger, until her jaw literally broke apart and became even larger than her head. Inside were rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth, spinning in endless circles. Above this opening of pure terror were two deep pools of bright light, where the mare’s eye sockets must’ve been a moment ago. The lights in there were blinding. Which was probably a good thing, as I could no longer tell how close her ever-widening jaws were to my head.

***

And then I woke up. Alone and in bed.

The alarm on the bedside table read 2:13 A.M. Officially Halloween.

I got up and went to the kitchen, pausing in the dim of the living room. No sleeping Sombra lay in wait. No awake Sombra sat ready to insult me the moment he thought of something clever.

No.

That’s because what just happened was all a dream and nothing more. A scary dream to mark the occasion. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge as I pondered this.

Work. Sleep. Exercise. Socialize. Rinse and repeat until you die.

Real life sure can be scary sometimes.

Then I noticed a tiny hand sticking out the side of my microwave. It seemed to be gathering my attention by waving at me. Not very large waves, mind you.

Micro-waves.

“Oh,” I spoke aloud, as if just punched in the gut, “even my dreams within dreams are terrible.”

***

I stood over the peacefully snoozing Sombra in the living room. It was still dark out; the middle of the night. I’d already checked the microwave and pinched my arm more than once. The dreams had ended and reality had returned.

Had I finally come to the scariest story of them all, I wondered?

Trapped with a pony that would outlive me, take all of my food and time, and offer little in return? Most pet owners outlived their pets and here it was reversed. And it wasn’t like I could just give him away, either. I could take him blindfolded all the way to Mexico and I was sure he’d still find his way back. Or start a drug cartel down there even worse than whatever they currently had. I mean, it was only last week we’d finished Narcos season two.

I guess Sombra would be my burden to bear. And I guess that would have to do. For now.

Seated on the couch next to him, I reached out and scratched his head.

And in return, he rolled over and muttered, “Gayyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

Author's Note

You probably skipped over "Super Spooky Pony Stories 1 - 665" to get here, didn't you?

For shame.