Anonymous in Nu-Questria 2

You’re sitting at the foot of your bed with the stub of a cigarette in your clenched teeth, wearing nothing but your boxer briefs.

Valerie the cantankerous wench is passed out in her true form. Her dark gray carapace rests motionless in a sex-induced coma, half-way tucked into the bed sheets.

Thin bands of moonlight creep through the blinds of the bedroom. The only light besides the lantern still burning where you left it in the hallway.

You rub your neck gingerly, feeling the fresh puncture wounds she left right above your clavicle. You pull your fingers away and feel fresh blood on them.

Fuck. She got in there deep this time. Need to patch that up before it gets infected.

You grunt and slowly rise off the bed. Valerie’s sleeping form remains still as you make your way quietly out of the room. You know she’ll be back to “normal” when she wakes up in the morning. She’ll act all cuddly and loving again, pretending that nothing happened. That is, until her next inevitable freak out.

You take a few puffs on the cigarette and finally stub it out on the side of the porcelain sink as you get to the bathroom. You open the bathroom mirror cabinet and look for the bottle of antiseptic.

The small glass bottle is empty. Fucking hell. You close the mirror and grumble to yourself.

You clean away the blood with some water from the sink, then dab it dry with a rag. The other scratches on your arms and chest will be fine. They already seem to have clotted over.

You press the rag to your neck and pick up the lantern from the nearby shelf as you step through the hallway. You remember there’s another thing you can use as disinfectant. Just buried out there in the yard.

You throw on your crusty plaid bathrobe and put on your slippers. Quietly you unlock the front door and step onto the porch, closing it behind you as softly as you can.

The moon is bright tonight, as it seemingly always is in this part of the country. There's so many stars without the light pollution from the streetlamps of the big cities. You carry the yellowed, old globe of light with you any way.

You make your way out to the chicken coop and bend down near the outside wall. You set down the lantern and scrape the damp earth away with your hand. You gradually uncover the metal tin and free it from its hiding place.

Inside the tin you find the jar of moonshine, just as you left it. Seems like Valerie didn’t figure it out this time. The jar is still about three-fourths full. You unscrew the cap and smell the harsh, alcoholic vapors.

Using the rag, you wet a section of it and dab it on your neck wounds. The piercing pain that follows makes you shiver, but you bear it.

You decide to take a swig of the booze. Why not? You’ll need all the help you can get to go to sleep after today. Cider isn’t going to cut it.

You wander around your property for a while. You look over the scraps of trash littered here and there. You check in on the sprigs of the pot plants growing between the tomatoes of your struggling garden. You pace near the edge of the forest beyond the clearing. You take a swig here and there and let your mind wander along with your feet.

Fucking Twilight... giving you a music box telephone. She should know by now that childish novelties aren’t your thing. No. You aren’t going to let Starlight Glimmer give you another counseling session. You aren’t going to try and talk with those... fucking students again. You aren’t going to become the model citizen they want you to be. You just want to be left alone.

You shake your head slowly and sigh. Her offer to send you back to Earth was such a paltry compromise. It’s basically just saying “get out of my life and go somewhere else,” as if you’re just another transient pony on the streets or something. Not that Twilight even knows any homeless creatures any way. She never has to mingle with the riffraff outside of her castle and school.

You grimace as another swig of moonshine washes down your throat. You raise the jar up to catch the light and see that it’s now only half filled. Fuck.

You hurriedly screw on the cap and then rub your head. Your head is a bit woozy, and your chest is warm. You should take it easy for a bit. Just go and lie down.

As you stumble back into your yard, your mind begins to spin with a variety of thoughts, some impure, some depressing, some amusing. You smirk a bit. Your body feels loose and limp.

Suddenly you stub your toe on something. You inhale sharply and hop on one leg, but your balance fails and you fall into the mud.

It takes you a second to get your bearings, but you slowly sit up. You mutter some curses under your breath and feel around for the thing you tripped over.

Of course. The fucking box.

You’re about to toss it into the junk heap, but then you think of something. You laugh quietly under your breath as you saunter back inside your house with a tipsy swagger.

Soon you come back out carrying a few burlap sacks filled with your special powder, some matches, and a few wicks. You hum a soft tune as you make your way to the center of your yard, right beyond the point where the moonlight makes direct contact with the grass below the overhang.

You put down the three sacks in a nice little bundle.

You put in the wicks and twist them together into one, long strand.

You take the music box and hold it in your hands. You peer at the small device, inspecting it a bit. She said you just had to talk right? Well, I have something to say, Twilight.

“Hey Twilight, you there?” You say.

There’s a tiny burst of violet sparkles around the box. The star-shaped latch on the front clicks open and the lid opens on its own. Inside there’s the sound of spinning gears, and you see six gems seated in a spinning golden disk. They shift between the hues of the rainbow.

Twilight’s cutie mark symbol appears as a blurry, semi-transparent hologram above the gems as the lid fully opens. You hear the sound of shuffling quietly emanating from it.

“Mh... Anon? Is that you?” You hear Twilight say in a sleepy voice.

Perfect. You set the box quickly on the bundles of powder and strike a match.

“Hey Twilight, it’s me, yeah!” You say, slurring your words a bit.

“Anon... are you drunk? What time is it?” Twilight asks. Her symbol glows brighter along with the volume of her voice.

“It’s alright, it’s fine. Hey, I wanted to tell you something, okay?” You say, lighting the fuse. You hold back the giddy laughter rising in your chest as you lean back.

“What is it, Anon?” Twilight says in a soft, empathetic tone.

“Alright, well it’s really important so listen up, okay?” You say, your lips trembling as you involuntarily grin. You quickly step back until you’re a few yards away, then you turn and run.

Twilight remains silent, waiting for you to speak. You make it back to the porch before you hear her say, “Anon? Are you there? What’s that sound? I think there’s some sort of noise on your-”

KA-BLAM.

The fireball that erupts on your lawn sends a shockwave through the overgrown grass and kicks up a tremendous plume of dirt along with it. Pebbles and rocks sail through the air and scatter around, clinking off hard rock and wooden shingles. There’s a magnificent five foot crater in the ground now. Small, ruby-red embers lick flames into the air around it.

“WHOO! YEAH! HAHA! FUCK YEAH!” You cheer loudly and pump your fists. Your ostentatious laughter echoes out across the night air.

You hear the clambering of hooves from inside. With a few more giddy chuckles you turn towards the front door.

Valerie flings open the inner door and then pushes the screen door open with her face.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” She screams.

Her shining, yellow eyes are wide and filled with tears. Her teal mane is a mess and her legs are trembling.

You flash her a satisfied grin. “Just having a little fun, baby! Relax!”

You stroll towards her, putting your hands in the pockets of your bathrobe, but then taking one out to catch yourself from stumbling over your own feet. You lean casually against the side of the porch.

She looks around the yard in a panic, her eyes turn to you momentarily, then she glances to the sky. Her mouth opens and she starts to fidget with her hooves in a panicked fashion.

“No no no no no! No! Fuck!” She says, a tear running down her chin.

“What? What is it?” You ask. You turn your head and see something silhouetted against the moon. The figures are small, but you can see their stocky frames and the glint of midnight-blue steel on their bodies.

Before you can think, Val is out the door. She rushes through the yard, ducking into the overgrown grass with her wings splayed for balance.

“Val, wait!” You say. You reach out a hand for her, but she’s already gone, disappeared around a rocky outcropping.

You watch the spot where she disappeared for a second, but then you slowly turn your gaze to the rapidly approaching stallion guards. Fuck if you’re gonna let them chase off your mare and sack your house.

You point your finger out to them. “Well alright then, fuckers. You wanna play? Let’s play.” You say. You pump your fist and whirl around. You can’t help but let out a manic burst of laughter.

“Hahah! This night just keeps getting better and better!”

In a flurry of quick movements, you get inside and lock the door. You grab the bookshelf an tip it on its side. Books and ceramic trinkets clatter to the ground. With a heave you push it up snugly to the door.

You crouch near the front-facing window and toss some discarded papers and bottles off a small wooden crate. You yank off the top of the crate and cast it aside. You grab a small iron pipe inside it and fumble in your pockets for your matches. Your breaths are heavy and quick.

You hear the muffled voices of stallions outside. They aren’t on the porch yet, but they will be soon.

You carefully reach up and strike the glass with the end of the tube. Shards dash themselves against the floor, but it leaves a nice little hole for you.

“Get the hell off my lawn!” You yell. You light a match and hold it to the fuse.

A moment later, the small pipe bomb bounces off the railing of the porch and sails a short ways into the yard, its sizzling fuse emitting a tiny plume of sparks.

“Weapon! Bomb!” You hear a stallion’s voice yell abruptly. The voice is followed by some quick hoofsteps on mud.

The explosive goes off with a pathetic little bang. Fucking hell. These were the shitty ones. Where’s the good ones you made?

You quickly scan the dark living space, trying to spot the similar looking crate somewhere under the piles of garbage.

Fuck it. Might as well use them up, right? Plenty more where that came from.

Another match, another bomb. It soars out the window, clearing the porch cleanly this time.

Wait, shouldn’t you be yelling something badass right about now?

“Fuck Luna!” You shout out the window as the bomb explodes.

There are four stallions, all in the night princess’s royal guard uniform standing a safe distance away in your yard. “Relay the unicorn team! We need shields immediately!” One of them says.

Another bomb comes out.

“Fuck Celestia!” You say. You laugh as your face pulls into a tight grimace.

“Fuck Twilight Sparkle!” You shout and chuck another grenade.

“Fuck the diarchy! I hate the diarchy! I hate the diarchy!”

You use the distraction to scramble to the hallway and pull the cord to raise the tapestry. Your fingers are twitching as you try to pry open the secret door. You long to cradle a steel barrel packed full of shot.