Good Morning, Mister Drops
There is a pony in the mirror, but it isn’t me. I am handsome, sauve and have eyes that can make any mare weak at the knees, or so I’ve been told countless times before. The pony who’s eyes meet my own is thin, gaunt. His eyes are sunken back in his skull, patches of fur missing from his body. I can see his hooves are filthy and chipped, his skeletal sides heaving with every breath. He lifts one of his hooves, wiping the muck onto his scrawny, patchy coat.
I’d never be so uncouth. Use a handkerchief, you heathen.
The pony in the mirror turns away from me, it’s time for breakfast. I am also feeling peckish, there’s a FreshMart several blocks from here. I don’t have to look at the stranger any more, and for some reason I’m unconcerned about why he was in my mirror in the first place. I am going to have a light salad for breakfast, with a healthy side of oat bannocks with gravy. Delicious. I look around my kitchen, admiring the high quality marble counter, gleaming machinery and polished knives. Lovely, a kitchen befitting one such as myself. I should clean one last time though, just in case. Don’t want to appear slovenly. My head hurts for a moment, and in the flash of a second my lovely kitchen looks fuzzy, like a dream. The marble is cracked, there is the remains of a pony covered in maggots on the counter. It looks like someone has almost been eating the flesh, a plate full of meat is overturned on the filthy floor. My mind reels at the sight, sickness lurching through my stomach, before all snaps back into focus and my kitchen is gleaming and clean again.
What a strange turn that was. Perhaps I should stop by the clinic, see Doctor Jab and have him look at me. I’d hate to get sick. Who knows what new diseases have cropped up from the war with the Zebra. I have a blind date at lunch set up by a friend who swears he found the perfect mare for me, I want to be at my best. But first, breakfast. Cantering down the stairs, I step out into a lovely cloudy day. The pegasi have given everything a beautiful soft look under the diffused sunlight, Princess Celestia should be pleased. I know I am. It’s almost like candlelight, the most flattering of lighting. It’s warm, and there is a scent on the breeze. It’s salty and sweet, almost like a perfume. I inhale, the familiarity nibbling at my mind. looking around, I can see ponies out enjoying brunches at the cafes, a couple is laying on a picnic rug near the fountain feeding each other something red,the smell is strongest with them. I step closer to see what it is before recoiling in horror. They were feeding each other cuts of raw meat, their eyes mad and rolling,with blood dripping from their fur. The scent isn’t perfume but rotting meat, the bowl between them held the mutilated hindquarters of a pony, a cutie mark still visible. My head aches again, a sharp pain, before clearing, and I realise it isn’t meat at all, but raspberries. The young couple is covered in the sticky juice, gushing with youthful vigor. They give me a strange look, and I return it with a charming smile to put them at ease. I must seem strange to them, one as handsome as I looking pale and sickly. Breakfast will have to wait, Doctor Jab must do something about these strange and horrible turns. I have a date, after all.
Hurrying to the clinic, a few ponies greet me along the way. Their clothes look both fresh and clean, then haggard and dirty, over and over. The pounding in my head begins to drum out a rhythm with my heart, showing me horrific imagery with every other throb. A couple kissing gently fades into a mare laying deathly still as a stallion heaves and pants over her in lust. Two foals giggling and rolling a ball between them fades into emaciated children kicking a severed head. A pony slurping spaghetti seems to fade in and out of a pony ripping the intestines out of a baby’s torso, gobbling them down and screaming with delighted madness. Screaming, like I am, as I run to the clinic. Whatever is happening to me must be something to do with those damned zebras, I have to be rid of it. I catch a sight of the grotesque pony from this morning in the mirror racing beside me, his eyes mad and almost glowing with panic and fear. Why he is here I don’t understand, but there are more important matters.
The receptionist, a pretty pink mare with a white dress turns and smiles at me. “Mister Drops! So nice of you to drop by. What can I do for you?” Her radiant smile is like a bandage for my soul, the horrors of the outside fading away with the pain in my head.
“Hello Cherry, is Doctor Jab available? I’m afraid it’s a bit urgent.” I try to calm my voice, but it’s trembling.
Cherry smiles again, gesturing behind her. “Of course! Just step right this way.”
Her flank sways in front of me as she leads me down the hall to the Doctor’s office. Normally I would be flirting up a storm with her, but with every sway of her hips my head pounds, and it flickers into the sight of a starved, contaminated flank covered with radiation sores, before flicking back into the plump beauty that I was used to.
“Just in here, he won’t be a moment.”
“Thank you Cherry.” I settle on the bed to wait, the room fading in and out from a sterile white clinic to a crumbling, broken room with half the wall missing. Doctor Jab walks in, concern on his face.
“Whatever is the matter Damp Drops? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost!” Speak for yourself Doctor, you’re the one talking with half your face chewed off.
“Yes, I’m having a headache and some unpleasant visions, some of them truly terrifying. For example, it looks as though half of your face is missing. I can see your skull.” I close my eyes against the sight, waiting for him to diagnose me as mad.
“Sounds like a zebra curse, m’boy. Lots of them going around. Don’t fret, I have just the thing.” I hear him rummaging around, relief blooming in my chest. I knew it was a curse!
“You’ll feel a little prick. Hold still.”
My neck stings as he injects the cure into me, and my eyes open with gratitude. Everything seems so clear, so sharp. The pain is gone. “Thank you, Doctor! I can’t believe those zebras got to me, all the way out here in Baltimare! We’re miles from the warfront.”
“Oh they’re sneaky, they get in everywhere. Don’t worry, Take these pills with you, if it happens again just chew on one of these. My own special recipe.” Shaking a pill bottle at me, he smiles, his face now as rounded and kindly as I am used to. “I’d like you to rest here for a few hours though, you can nap on the bed there. Give your mind some time to recover.”
I am feeling sleepy, so a nap sounds spectacular. “Thank you, Doctor.” I take the pills in my magic, the smudged label unreadable. My mind feels floaty, dispelling a curse is hard work. Sleep overtakes me, and I drift off into a restful slumber.
My watch is beeping at me. I crack one eye opening, yawning sleepily as I see that my date is due to begin in twenty minutes. I stretch, making my way past Cherry who waves me out the door. I feel refreshed, good, full of energy. What a fantastic day to be alive! I must make a note to send the Doc some chocolates as thanks for dispelling that pesky curse. Picking up some flowers, I trot eagerly over to the Equus Manducans, the most trendy eatery in town. Rich scents of delightful dishes tantalise my nose, and I see my date waiting at a corner table. The waiter ushers me in with a smile, leading me through the crowd to my lovely mare. She seems nervous, glancing around like a scared little bunny. Well, who wouldn’t be? Even dishevelled and slightly sleepy, I know I am still one gorgeous stallion. Reaching the table I plant a kiss on her cheek and the flowers on the table before her. She doesn’t respond to my touch, her eyes gazing instead at the door. She is swaying slightly, as if to a rhythm only she can hear. I hope she isn’t a drunk.
“Good afternoon, my dear. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” At last she looks at me, and I am troubled to see her eyes aren’t full of the adoration I am used to, but fear. “Is everything alright? Do you need a sparkling water?”
She shakes her head, looking back down at the table. A stallion behind her bumped her chair as he sits down, she jumps at the contact like it burns her. I knew she was a shy one from my friend’s description, but this is ridiculous! How could I dazzle a mare who won’t even look me in the eye? Leaning over the table, I gently tilt her chin upwards. Her eyes are brimming with tears, she isn’t just scared, she’s terrified. Of me.
Pain lances through my head, and for an instant the world is bleak. The diffused light of the sun is sickly, the stench of rotting meat unbearable. The table before me is covered with grime, dust and unidentifiable muck, the mare who was once sleek and groomed now thin and shaking, her hooves rattling the chains around her hooves as she lay bound across the table. A hoof too filthy to be my own was wedged painfully in her mouth, pulling her head up at a sharp angle, while another stallion is savaging her from behind, the movement of his hips causing her body to sway slightly. I scan the room in horror, taking in the ponies dining on the corpses of fellow ponies. Blood and viscera spatters across the ground, and even on the roof intestines are drapes like some sickening decoration. Fumbling in my saddlebags I pull out the pills the doctor prescribed and chew on one, the fear of the curse’s return howling like the pounding through my head. Until the pill kicks in, I have to act normal. Forcing a smile to my lips, I bend down and ~~sink my teeth into her throat~~ place a menu in front of us. I hope my charm is enough to salvage the date.
