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Pinkie awoke in a room full of talking horses. Their jaws moved up and down, and sound burst forth from their tender throats, but she only heard the succulent words of one.

His green hooves had once pranced on shamrocks, and his short stature had allowed him to perform cunnilingus on a mare without needing to bend over even slightly, not that he'd ever gotten the opportunity. Most mares were put off by his peg leg. That was, most mares were put off by the perpetual eructation of lasers flowing from the once-proud stump of his third leg. But if he wanted to, he totally could.

An adumbration clouded Pinkie's thoughts. She only heard the words of Larry:

"There once was a lepercorn named Larry,

"Whose friend Pinkie Pie was so merry,

"So he gave her some hugs,

"Motorboated her jugs,

"And then everyone contracted leprosy."

The lepercorn's leprous limerick set aflame their peripheral nerves and the mucosa of their upper respiratory tract, as was his special talent. Celestia had blessed him as a wee foal, tasked him to bring the divine gift of leprosy to every man, woman and child.

He was a lepercorn of the lord.