Author's Note
Hey guys, thought I would never return. Things have been going well, but I was suddenly... Inspired with a muse, a very 'funny' and 'influential' muse.
Hate will never win, I hope you enjoy this dissection...
Peace, love and don't forget to hit the upvote button
Been Lurking Around
Neural N.VY took a harsh, long drag of his cigarette. It was Cuban, not that he gave a shit. He didn't give a shite about anything, he just wanted to leave under his little bridge, in his little bubble. He inhaled into his lungs, breathing smoke out through his skin, the smoke rising into the sky on this overcast day.
He probably thought he looked pretty cool, but in reality, a lot of people thought he was just a knob. Neural N/VY was a slimy frog.
His mate Gavin came by with a large tesco shopping bag filled with cans of Stellar. "Oi, Neurey, ow's the woife?" he asked, his own face upturned in a sort permanent scowl. Both slimy limeys, toasted their friendship with a *klack* of the tinnies and Neutral N'VY grabbed a crunchy from the tesco bag. "Bloody hate the weather recently. Thanks Blair." He scowled even more, his face and eyes almost disappearing into his slimy green body.
Gavin shrugged and explained "Bit too early for politic, it's only 11 am."
"Shut up," Neural snorted, wiping his snotty nose on his mucous tainted arm. "Footies on later so woife is goin' out with the girls to Spoons to leave me in piece."
"CHELSEA!" The only appropriate thing for both males to shout, as they clinked another two cans of Carling together and started laughing maniacally. The little britfrogs were not the most productive members of society, and they were proud of it. They were proud boys and made sure to let any passing snail or dragonfly know they meant it, usually by jeering loudly in their direction.
Reaching for the 4th tin in 10 minutes, Neural N:VY instead pulled out a packet of what he thought originally was weed. "YO Gav, whassis den?" the repulsive amphibian asked, Gav explaining "Dunno innit? You know my mate Roy? Well he haz a guy called Jezza who he talks to on the 5th of every month to get some urine for his probation offica, and he hooks him up wif da best. He owed me a pony for that ludicrous diplay last noight, and instead hit me up with this baggie. Think its ganges innit."
Looking at the bag intensely, the repugnant bridge frog opened it up, snorting some phlegm to get a better sense of smell. He smells something oily and synthetic, wondering briefly it it had, had a cheeky dip in some acid before arriving in Gav's tesco bag.
"Give us a rollie," Neural N*VY asked, Gav handing over a small unfiltered white piece of thin paper.
Neural began to roll. He rolled as if his life depended on it. Something was in the air. The universe was speaking to him, or possibly the quantity of alcohol he'd just consumed that was overpowering his neurons. His little frog arms seemed to blend into nothing as he perfectly curved the paper around the green and almost hay-looking substance resting on the paper. He masterfully turned it over and over. His hands had a life of their own. He was fluid, he was the paper, he was the weed inside the roll-up. He couldn't if he wanted to stop what he was doing. This was beyond 'THE ZONE' this was 5 zones in and counting. He added a layer, then another, looking at the fat spliffie he had birthed with his own two squidy, pudy hands. Gav looked on in awe, his jaw agape at the sheer perfection of his friends tight rolling skills.
"Fuckin' hell Neral Nvidia, give us first toke," he demanded, trying to snatch the delectable and crisp roll-up.
"Maybe when you get good scrub, this is my fookin spliff."
He stuck one end in his gob, and lit the other with a fat bic. The lighter fluid ignited and singed at the weed like substance and the frog took the biggest inhale of his life. He wanted these chemicals to shoot directly into his brain. He wanted to feel 'high' and to make sure any passing single Mother knew it.
He almost finished half the doobie in a single inhale, so he doubled down, hitting that shit again. How could one not finish such a perfect cylindrical masterpiece?
"Oi," interjected Gav, "What you fink, you'se doing?"
He was not a happy chappy, but Neural didn't care. He only cared about himself, and about his own pleasure in life. He had no consideration for others and regularly insulted people. Usually online at night when he could truly let his passion for non-existence fly.
He finished it all, there was nothing left, and suddenly, instead of the epic win hit from the cannabis, he felt a searing pain in his dome. "Fuck what is that," he demanded, holding his eyes shut with a hand and staggering about.
He looked on the baggie and saw in black marker it labelled 'Spice,' looking angrily at Gav. You fookin idiot. This ain't weed, can you not fookin read? This is that chinese shit. Gonna make me fookin off me ead', oh shit, here I go..." he trailed off, the world starting to spin as he fell against the rocks by the stream under the bridge.
It started to look like a music video, he felt as if things were getting... metaphysical up in here. Colors blurred and became brighter, and suddenly he was in agony, the searing, scalding pain causing him to shut his eyes tight. The Physical pain was tremendous, but the real fear was he might not be able to watch the footie later.
He opened his eyes, and all the pain was gone. Taken away in an instant, his vision blurry as it adapted to the bright sunshine. He was on the bridge, and he was sure it was his bridge, but he was no longer a small disgusting frog. He looked down at the hooves. HIS hooves, and gasps, a very un-frog-like gasp.
"The hell?"
His words came out so smooth, so 'normal,' it was like someone had poured honey down his throat and gotten rid of 15 years of smoking. He looked at his neon green hooves and his sickly yellow mane. He felt as if he wanted to sing suddenly, and it disgusted him. He didn't know much, but he knew that he was probably no longer in Grimsby.
Neural N{}VY took a step forwards and shook. His legs were so tall. He hadn't done this much exercise in 10 years. Usually he stepped out of his house by the bridge, after a long night of sitting in cheeto dust by his pc, and had a drink with Gav. Good times.
He panted, as he took another step forwards and had to stop. It was exhausting being alive. He pushed onwards, crossing half the bridge before he stopped. A tall, blood-orange coated mare with blonde hair and blue eyes suddenly appeared on the other side of the bridge. She was wearing a professional purple suit top and looked like a hecking square.
"Hey, lady?" he asked, clearing his throat afterward before continuing "Where the hell am I? Is this Grimsby? Maybe Sheffield?"
The mare looked like she was not amused and frowned deeply.
She cleared her throat, deep and very Karen like before explaining "This is the Ponyville bridge. I am Miss Harshwhinny and you look like a total mess."
She sounded like a total bitch, in Neural's opinion.
"What is your name?" she asked, no demanded, as if she was going to report you to the better business bureau or the B.B.B.
"What? Lady, I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. I'm just a frog trying to have a good time. What the FUCK is this shit? Why am I neon green? Why am I a goddamned horse, and where the FUCKING SHIT, has my fucking accent gone?"
He couldn't explain anything. This couldn't have been the trip right? It wasn't the damned Spice, he was sure he'd done some before and all he felt was the need to eat brains, not transport to some mystical girls coloring book.
She snorted, a snob turning her nose up at all his expletives. "I see you're not from around here. Please do be careful, these yokels don't take kindly to city trash. Thankfully for you, I know what it's like to live in a city, so I will ignore you now. I have a meeting to get to with Princess Luna on the edge of the Everfree forest regarding franchising rights to spooky nights."
She trotted on, actually turning her face up.
The frog, or rather the neon green pony in Equestria grunted, wanting so badly to smash Harshwhinny's face into the bridge side. Only he was too afraid because he usually did all his fighting behind a keyboard, however when he was behind one, he was one of the most feared WARRIOR! 29 confirmed kills on the Kiwi Farms.
He slunk away like a slimy frog, his hooves casually shuffling through the dirt track as he headed towards some fruity sort of town.
His only plan was to get off of this damned trip so he could...
He suddenly realized, snapping back to reality...
The footie was on, in less that 2 hours...
