I was a human, once. But that was an age ago. Now I'm stuck in this body of an obscenely pink pastel pony, complete with a tacky lime green hair do and tail.

That's not the worst of it, though. I could deal with having hooves instead of thumbs, although it's nowhere near a fair trade off, and I can deal with being that terrible blotch marring an otherwise picturesque countryside. What I can't deal with well, though? The fact that I am completely alone in this unknown place. Oh, and the god of this world thinks I'm an abherration on her otherwise perfect world, and is trying to kill me. But it's mostly the first one.