Goddamn, maybe Katy Perry was onto something. The events of last Friday night, that is to say, last night, are indeed a black-out blur, and you have a vague recollection of going streaking in the park. Not that that has any real meaning, in Equestria. If anything, it would be scandalous if you had gone running around clothed. You also vaguely recall something about demons, and getting kicked out of a bar. But right now, you find yourself lying atop something soft and fuzzy, next to what appears to be a small green pony of your size.
You roll over, and look your duplicate in the eyes. It takes a moment for you to realize that this isn't a mirror, but another gosh-darned Anonfilly. Shouldn't she have gone home already? You open your mouth to indicate as much, perhaps in a more vulgar manner, but all that comes out is a hoarse groan. Normally you'd make some kind of 'horse' pun on that, but between your physical exhaustion and splitting headache, you simply lack the patience for such matters. Indeed, you lack the patience to make puns of any sort.
"Uhhnng." You say, eternally placing yourself as the epitome of speech, the platonic ideal of eloquence and linguistic poise. The other Anonfilly stares into your eyes for a moment, and you like to think that perhaps the two of you shared a moment there. Perhaps, deep down, you could come to an understanding. The sort of understanding that only really comes once in a life time, if you're lucky. You perfectly understand everything she is, and she understands everything you are. It's beautiful and precious and unlike anything you've ever experienced, and you suspect it is also unlike anything you ever will experience in the future. Then she rolls over to face away from you.
"Uhhnng." You repeat, this time with more vigor. Perhaps, by repeating the exact same thing again, you might persuade her to leave. Unfortunately, she seems to have the same idea, and groans back at you without moving.
Stars, your head hurts.
As far as you can recall, grape juice doesn't usually have that sort of effect. At least, it never did back on Earth. Maybe ponies ferment their grape juice? Would Twilight knowingly give you alcohol? Your head throbs, it turns out that thinking does not help a migraine.
A blinding purple glow surrounds your vision, and you groan and shut your eyes tightly as you are lifted to face what you assume is Twilight Sparkle. You don't actually know, on account of your eyes being closed.
"Well, what have we learned today?" Twilight's strangely loud voice booms, causing you to wince, your head throbbing particularly painfully. You would like to tell her to go away and let you sleep, but decide that such disrespectful words would not be prudent at this time. You elect to take a more diplomatic approach.
"Unmnmm..." You reply, mentally forcing your eyes open. The light stings, but you manage to keep them open. Meanwhile, Twilight clearly unable to resist your suave charms, sets you down on the rug where you had been lying and quickly banishes the other filly to Tartarus. Twilight is evil like that, contrary to what you were expecting. She really likes banishing others to Pony-Hell. To be honest, you've read some of the fanfics, but you were expecting more of an amoral mad scientist, not a spiteful, easily irritated conjurer with more pacts with fiends than strands in her mane.
Twilight Sparkle would like to inform the reader that her mane is in fact quite luscious and healthy.
Twilight sighs and looks down at you. "You really shouldn't have drank all that grape juice. I think it may have been expired. And then I got some call from Mrs. Cake about demon spawn in her birdbath? Care to explain?"
"Mrrgh." You feel like you were channeling the wisdom of Chewbacca in that one. Chewbacca was a Wookie of few words, to be sure, but he knew how to make them count. You'd like to count him among your inspirations, but you only got to see the first Star Wars film as a child on Earth, before your parents decided it was Satanic and forbade you from watching any more. You'd have disobeyed then when you went to university, but your parents have eyes everywhere, and you needed them to keep funding your education. When you arrived in Equestria, you briefly searched for a Star Wars equivalent, but there unfortunately doesn't appear to be one.
"Look, I think you might be hungover, so I'm going to cast a minor healing spell, okay?" Twilight speaks quietly and quickly, not an ounce of concern or emotion in her voice.
"Ng." You protest, Twilight's healing spells are the worst. She lights her horn, and you are bathed with a frankly excruciating purple glow. It's as if every hair in your coat were being plucked off simultaneously using tweezers that were on fire. It burns. You'd scream, but to be frank, you're too tired to do even that. Indeed, exhaustion colors this whole experience, simultaneously numbing it and making it all the more unbearable.
A moment passes, and the burn turns to a sort of cold burn only comparable to the burn of one's toes in improperly insulated boots on a particularly cold Canadian February morning. It's a sort of stinging heat, in a way, but with none of the numbing effects of heat. While the burning felt like hairs were being plucked from your flesh, this feels as though ice-cold needles are being stabbed into the pores left empty from the burning. It is a different, but nonetheless equal sort of agony.
After what feels like an eternity of torture, Twilight ceases casting the spell. Your headache is gone, but the fatigue remains, and you waver on the brink of unconsciousness, halfheartedly expending mental effort to stay awake..
"Let that be a lesson to you." Twilight mutters, and caresses your mane tenderly, lulling you into the waiting arms of sleep. Hopefully you won't wake up in Tartarus.
FIN.
Author's Note
Have an ironic one-shot. I was originally planning to write another parody. So I wrote this semi-parody.