An Increasingly Useless Guide to Being a Background Pony

by j3r034rja34jty

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Alternate Universe
Length: 16036

Woke up as Octavia in the now changing universe

I wake up as Octavia, others seem to be waking up as ponies too.

Note: I wrote every early chapter when I was fairly young, so just be warned that the later chapters are somewhat better. It takes a dip for two or three chapters near, too. Just look out. Skipping them wont do any harm.

Note2: Feature box. Neat.

Part of the PonyEarthVerse verse/collaboration

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-16 06:13:37 UTC

The Overusage of the Lollipop Word

A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia.

Written by ThatOneRandomPony

Note beware, this is my first fanfic. This has had a little editorial work too (I thank you, Dashing Rainbow), so It could be not quite so perfect.

Not sure if I'm pulling it with this fanfic. Mostly done during a 2-1/2 hour lock down at school later in the day. Any constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Thanks

-ThatOneRandomPony

EDIT: All chapters are undergoing more editorial work, this time, by myself. Not changing any of the plot, just the wordings, etc. Basically the same story just written better.

More better, as they always say.

-~

Tappidy tap tap

Uggghhhh...

Tappidy tap tap tap

Make it stop...

TAPPIDYTAPTAPTAP

It won’t, I'm guessing. This is what I get for living in Washington. Rain. 24/7.

Don't get me wrong, Seattle is cool and stuff, it's just the rain. It won’t stop, ever. Even though I love the damp smell of the weird addition of water plus road, It's just loud. Too loud. Especially when it's pouring. But nonetheless, it ruins my sleep.

And after about 5 minutes of countless tapping, the rain has won the battle against being asleep, and being awake once again.

Maybe one day I'll finally win.

Looking to my left, the alarm clock on my nightstand reads the bright green numbers: 7:13

Wait. Waitwaitwait. 7:13?

Shit! I'm late for school!

I rush the blankets off my body and flip out of bed, and in the fast act of doing so, I land square on my face.

Ouch.

Ouch a lot, actually

I pass away the strong pain emerging from my nose and try to carry on with my daily routine.

The act of me getting off the floor would have been funny, really. Gravity apparently just didn't like me that day. I fall down, with a soft thud onto the hardwood flooring covering the floor in my room. The pain radiating from my tail-bone would be the result of that fall.

Wait wait, back up there. Soft?

That can't be right, I have wood flooring. If anything it would be a hard thud.

I know this! I debated for what seemed ages to get wood flooring. Carpet stains too easily. I learned that the hard way after spilling a glass of Gatorade on the main carpet in our old house when I was 7. Lets just say it wasn't a pleasant experience.

I look around, hoping to find the source of the soft landing in my defeat against gravity. Sadly, however, the blackness of the morning has prevented my vision from seeing anything.

I feel around for the old extension cord I keep near my bedside table, but alas, I'm on a losing streak. The only reason I have an extension cord in the first place is to turn my pile-of-shit lamp. The heat-touch thingy ma-jig just stopped working one day, so now I have to manually turn the extension cord on and off.

I don't want to go to school today, anyways. I'm already late, I don't have a ride, and I'm sore. Not to brag, but, I did run a 6:30 mile. To top it all off, we start soccer today. I mean, I'm not too great at sports, but seriously, why soccer? That has to be one of the stupidest sports ever.

After about 2 minutes of numb-handed searching, I find the trusty extension cord lying but mere centimeters from where I was sitting. I flip the red switch on the large cord, and a bright flash of light emitting from the lamp blinds my eyes.

Owowowowow!

I don't know what it is, but it just hurts to be blinded.

After a while, I squint my eyes open. No later than 30 seconds after, I could fully open my eyes with no worry about temporary blindness.

I stretch and decide to look into the mirror that covers the backside of my poorly painted door.

Why? I have no flippin' clue.

What I see scares me. Not because it was creepy or anything. Just... different

I see a light-gray pony. Black mane, bow-tie, and she only sits at the height of 2 foot... three? Four? Wait, why do I care what height she is?

She seems... familiar

I blink.

And what a strange coincidence, she also blinks.

And the same happens when I open my mouth. Funny, isn't it?

I mean, hey, why not look down? It's not like anything out of the ordinary will be there, right?

So I just go ahead and look down

And freak out.

What my eyes see are two light-gray furry stumps, ending at my hardwood floor.

I freeze for what seems like hours, but in reality is only a couple seconds.

When I try to raise my arm, the stump moves. The results are the same when this attempt is featured on my left side.

I look back at the mirror, and the pony shares the same shocked face I hold.

"This ca-" As well as speaking that, I hear a voice.

A voice of a... female.

Ok, ha ha, dreams. Very funny. You can stop now.

I shut my eyes, hoping the dream will vanish

But guess what

It didn't

I look back at the mirror, and it hits me. I know that pony.

It's Octavia! I mean, best pony, right?

I don't know what it is about her. She's just so... cultural. So classy. Too bad they don't ever do an episode about her.

But after all that thinking, I actually try to process what just happened. What I just said. What I just saw. What I just did.

And after all that split second thinking, I come up with one crazy thought. One that was certainly true, but just out of the reach of imagination. Some people would call it crazy, or to an extent, creepy.

I'm... Octavia?

But, wait...

I Just...

What?

This can't be happening, I can't be a pony. That's just... Impossible! What about the scientists? The outside world?!

What if they root me out and do tests on me?

It just creeps me out thinking about it.

'See live: Octavia! The pony from another universe! Or even worse, 'HEADLINE: New animal found from show 'My Little Pony'; extensive painful, excruciating tests will be used to find out where the mystical pony has come from’.

Ok, I might have exaggerated that last one. But still! What if that happens?

"Oh, god," I say, now realizing the new sophisticated, classy female voice I had been bequeathed with.

I'm Octavia. A pony from a freakin' TV show. That can't happen. Why can't nature just let me be who I want to be? To top it all off, I'm female! Ugh. Going from 6 feet tall down to no more than 2' 4". That's just unfair, nature. C’mon, Even if you make me a pony cut me some slack!

But out of the silence of my thoughts, I hear footsteps coming from the hallway, heading straight towards my room.

"Well this sucks," I say, preparing for what the world is about to throw at me.

The Rising Ideas of My Control Center

The Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By: ThatOneRandomPony

This chapter is was really half-assed. Don't expect it to be that good story-wise.

Grammar is correct, though, thanks to my ex-editor Dashing Rainbow.

Ah, watch out. Incoming: bad chapter.

EDIT: Excuse me if there are weird spaces in-between words. The Google docs import is buggy for me.

EDITtotheEDIT: This chapter has been edited. No more weird spaces or whatever

-~

As the sound comes closer, I grab my backpack with my mouth, and force all the muscles in my legs (or arms... Whatever) towards the open space under my desk.

I sit there, wrapped in a tight ball, waiting silently as the shadow walks in, turns off the lamp, and pauses.

Just please... don't see me

"Strange..." I hear my mom say, (discerning her by her voice) then walks out, shutting the door on her way.

Huh. Anti-climatic, if you ask me.

Well shit. I'm trapped here until ten-thirty, and all I have to comfort me is, well, nothing.

Wonderful.

Looking to my left, I make out the faint numbers of 7:20 being displayed on my alarm clock.

Only 3 hours, 10 minutes to go. Yippee.

Approximately 3 hours and 9 minutes later

Shitshitshitshit

I think I'm about to explode.

My head hurts from sitting in this cramped position, I'm starving...

...and I really have to use the little ladies room.

I watch steadily as the digital numbers switch from 10:29 to 10:30. I hear my front door shut from afar.

"Friggin' finally!" I explain, not really caring about my voice anymore. It's there, no way to change it back now.

Though one thing may have got me stumped... literally, I think.

"Oh man, I'm just too funny" I say, chuckling at my own joke

I stare down at my hooves, hoping they will just move on their own.

They don't.

Drats.

I move what I think is my wrist, but is really my knee in the equivalent of pony anatomy

As is the cliché of all sudden human-turns-to-pony fics, I have to learn to walk again.

Fantastic.

After somehow rolling myself out of the cramped area below the desk, I lay on my side.

Now lets-a-see, here

I take my two front hooves, and plummet them into the ground

Now let me tell you something, it's a sensation you already know, but on a much larger csale.

It’s like you feel the ground, yet, you really don't under all that hoof-stuff.  Kind of like when you hold an object, and then tap it on a hard surface. You feel the vibration back into your skin, but not really the object itself.

After figuring out what muscles controlled my hind legs, I kick up, and start a balancing act on my feet. Or, hands. Hooves.

Whatever.

I mean, how will I even attempt this? Right, left, right, left?  Nah. That won’t ever work.  Right, right, left, left?  Sounds good to me!

So I start to turn that wonderful idea into steam.

"Alright. Right," I say, as I move my right leg forward one unit of unit-ness

"...Right," I say, as my right hind leg moves forward.

Maybe that idea wasn't so great.

Wheezing as I try to stand up, the air seems to have been knocked out of me.

I think I'll just go with the more chicle 'Right, left, Right, left' tactic.

And as a matter of fact, it worked.  I was soon wandering circles around my room.

And sadly, the doorknob left me in winner’s circle.

Friggin' and you're humans and your opposable thumbs...

Well, frick. I just have to stay in here for now. can't be that bad, right?

Looking around, I spot a half full glass of water, and a three-quarters eaten plate of pasta from last night on my desk.

Somehow managing to leap up onto my chair, I push myself onto my desk.

Horses can eat meat, right?

...right?

"Oh... shit. I don't... feel..."

Next thig I know, I feel a hot liquid coming up my throat.

What a good waste of good pasta.

"...so good"

As I search for a remedy to the foul taste that resides in my mouth, I stare at the glass of luke-warm water sitting there oh-so innocently

How the frick am I even going to drink that?  Maybe I could try to pick it up.  Maybe.  I’ve had plenty of good ideas today, so why shouldn't it work?

Then I figured it out: I'm a genius.

Staring at the glass I attempt to move my front legs towards it.

So far, so good.

Creating opposite forces onto the glass, I maneuver it up towards my mouth, and tilt the glass in the diagonal towards me.

And it actually works, too. For a second or two, at least

Next thing I know I'm coughing the water back up.

Oh, come on!, I think, thanking myself I didn't turn into Squeaky-Belle

I know humans do that all the time, but, ponies too?

As I settle myself down, I decide to open my old 2003 mac laptop I have been "graciously" given by my mother. Somehow, beyond forces I know, I manage to do it.

Opening Safari, I stroll through the outdated web-browser

If there is one thing I hate in this world, it'd have to be safari or Os-x. Go ahead, take your pick

"Strange..." I say to myself, reading the front headline.

Princess Celestia in our town? Truth be told! The now transformed Lauren Faust and Tara Strong reside as ponies from the show My Little Pony. Click here for the live press conference.

"Say what?"

The Seemilngly Small Odds of Actually Making It

A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By: ThatOneRandomPony

Er. Mah. Gerd.

A new chapter!

Sooner than I thought. I have a reason at the end, you'll see.

But, uh, yeah. I finally found a thing to lead it to. Kinda. Idunno.

Brownie Points to my editor, Dashing Rainbow, for editing this again

-~

Staring at the blank piece of paper in front of me, I try to think of the ways I could imprint my thoughts on it.

I mean, how does a non-unicorn write with a pencil?

Ah, wait.

With their mouths. Frack.

With that thought, I stare at my furry light gray stumps, and sigh.

"Well, no harm in trying, right?" I say to myself as I pick up with the pencil in my mouth, and stare at the white sheet in front of me. Turning my head sideways, I try to write a simple 'hello', but it more turns out as a '~`-=]'

Well, that surely didn't work. To the computer it is!

Lighty trotting to the other side of my room, I open the old laptop, and stare at the trackpad.

Really?

You suck, life.

Moving my hoof upwards to the laptop, I place it firmly on the trackpad.

And guess what?

The cursor didn't move.

Yipee.

You know what life?

You can argof-

I get cut off mid-thought by the loud rumbling sound emerging my stomach.

Ah, that's right. Food. And that means food with no meat.

Gah. The world hates me or something.

Why me? Why not as a freakin’ unicorn? Or pegasus? Or a male, at least.

Moving away from the laptop, and moving forth to my door, I realise It's actually creaking open.

Wow. I'm so smart today, aren't I? I think to myself as I pass through the door.

Leading myself to my kitchen, I stare at the high counter tops on top of the black stained cabinets.

How the hell am I even supposed to get up there?

Staring at the chairs that sat in rows next to my crude island, I start to calculate what the odds are of me getting from the island to the counter which hold the precious fruits.

I calculated the odds. 2^2079460347 to 1.

There is still a chance though, right?

Hopping up onto the chair, then forth onto the island, I stare at the counter of which seemed thousands of miles away. I back up until a mere centimeter would have made me fall back, I run forward and force all the muscles in my legs to fly me into the air.

I made it.

But it hurt.

And frankly, kinda smelled.

I landed in my large, farmhouse styled sink.

Ew.

After scraping myself out of the sink, and back onto the solid countertop, I look at myself.

I was covered in spaghetti sauce, bits of food scraps, leftover drinks that reside in the bottom of glasses, and tiny specks of dust from the floor in my room. My mane was a mess, it got in the way of my vision, and was well, strange. Same goes for my tail. That weird tail-thing. I don't even know anymore.

Wow. This sucks. A lot. I know I have said this before, but seriously. It sucked.

A lot.

After the couple minutes of inspecting the mess of my new body, I crawled towards my bowl of fruit.

It held some over-ripe peaches, and a banana.

Of course, out of all fruits, give me a banana. The one fruit where I need fingers to open it.

Staring at the yellow, curved fruit, I try to think of the ways to open it.

And only one seemed plausible.

I had to smash it.

Raising up my hoof, I brought it down WITH THE FORCE OF ONE THOUSAND SUNS and watched it squish, leaving the fruit scattered among my hoof and the counter.

Oh, god, this is so degrading. Very degrading.

I bend down, and lick the banana right off the counter.

And to be honest, It tasted pretty good. Very tasty, to be more in the ballpark.

After finishing the tortured banana, I eye the fruit basket again.

Pears! Thanks god.

I reach in, grabbing the pear with my mouth, and eat it in 3 bites.

It's so mother trippin' good! I feel happy. Excited! Energy!

This certain song pops into my head.

I jump down and start bouncing around, the lyrics flowing through my head.

My heeeaaad is spinninnn', and it feeeeels alrigh'...

Bad luck! It could happen twice! Better check your past make sure you've been nice!

"I feel like I own the world! I could just do anything!" I say as I jump down the one and only step in my house that leads into the living room.

And might I add, not landing correctly.

The pain that emerges from my muzzle is unbearable. I even feel something trickling down my cheek.

I look at my hoof. It's covered in a dark crimson liquid.

Blood. A nose bleed. Fantastic. Spend a couple hours as a pony, and I already know how to injure myself.

Pushing away the pain, as well as the emerging tears, I blearily walk to my bathroom, and shove my face into a toilet paper roll that was on the floor. I watch teary-eyed as the egg-white roll becomes a dark crimson.

Ow, Owowow.

Why does it hurt so much?!

After 20 minutes of light sobbing, and nose-to-tissue action, the bleeding stops.

The pain however, has just gone from unbearable to ohgodthishurtsalot.

Managing to push back the tears, I slowly trot to my main room, and up to my desktop computer. Fortunately, it's still on.

Moving the mouse with both of my hooves, I slide the cursor to the Notepad icon on my desktop. I chuckle.

Ah, notepad. I'm too poor to afford Microsoft Word.

Grabbing a nearby pen, I turn my head sideways and start to click the keyboard keys, eventually writing a letter.

It reads:

Dear mom,

        I hate to break this to you, but I kinda ran away. It's a long story. Check the news, you might understand.

        Don't come looking for me. It would only make this worse. and trust me, I'm not doing a bad thing.

        Agh, I have to stop. Typing like this sucks.

        Hopefully see you soon,

                                                Ethan.

Leaving that page open on the computer, I jump off the chair and head into my room. Grabbing my cloth satchel, I empty out what it contains. In my mind, I start to make a list of what I will need.

"Let’s see... I'm going to need money, my laptop, my phone, my Student ID card..."

I look around some more.

"Ah! This book, for sure!" I say, as I grab the book from my shelf, and stuff it into the bag.

"Oh, oh, I'm going to definitely need my iPod. Can't go anywhere without it. Pencils, Paper..." I continue to say as I shove the items into the satchel.

"I think that'll do it!"

Putting the satchel around my neck, I trot out of my bedroom, and into the kitchen.

"Man, I'm really going to miss this place for the time being."

Pushing back the wonderful memories, I trot into my mom's room. It has the only door I could possibly open into the outside. A sliding door.

Looking at the large hunk o' glass and plastic, I grab hold of the long handle with my teeth, and open the door.

Moving from inside to outside, I close the door.

I walk into the pouring rain, and feel cleansed as the food and sauce washes off my body with every drop of rain.

"Ah. Finally. Being clean, kinda. It feels nice!"

After about 10 minutes of nature's shower, I run around to my front yard, and stare into the street in front of me.

Wait.

"Where do I go now?"

...

"Dammit brain, think these things out!"

I curse under my breath, as I wander up the long and winding road, prepared for whatever the world has to throw at me.

-~

And that's all for awhile, folks. It was halfway written as I published the second chapter, so I finished it in the past couple days.

EDIT:

        Free cookies who can:

        1. Guess what book I would have brought. It's referenced a couple times.

        2. Get the other references in the story. There are a couple.

So yep.

Peace out.

The Tale of a Large Number That Nobody Cares About

A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By ThatOneRandomPony

-~

Wet

That was the only thought that could make it through the clouded mess that was my mind.

Er, very wet? Yeah, I believe that will suffice for the moment

I began to mumble to myself as I trot, attempting some semblance of direction or planning. "Lets see here, based on the signs I have traveled roughly 12 miles. At this rate I'll be at New York right before I die. Fantastic.” I roll my eyes and shiver in the pouring rain.

It’s cold. And wet. So very wet. Of course there’s no internet anywhere for me to take advantage of. Not even a local starbucks. Again, this is all going along swimmingly.

After figuring out where in tartarus I had gotten myself, I decide I will try to use the internet connection at a local grocery and convenience store, which of course, is roughly five miles behind me. Everything is going great.

Slowly turning around, I start myself off on a full gallop.

Let me tell you, running as a pony is hard.

How hard?

Very hard.

How hard in the freezing, pouring rain?

You don’t even want to know.

-~

My hooves ache, even through the hard surface they are made of, the ends of my legs throb in time with my heartbeat as if trying to send me a morse code message to stop.

Oh thank god, I made it! 15 frackin’ miles. I made it, and alive to boot.

“Now to the QFC!” I say aloud to boast my previous success of galloping 5 miles. My own safety slips my mind for a moment until I start to wonder if anyone had heard me.

Why the hell did I just do that? If anything, that just puts me in more danger than I already am.

Looking around, I sprint towards the back of the store, and manage to stumble through the automatic doors.

Oh god, please don’t see me. I think to myself while, of course, everyone in the store turns to take in the grey and black pony that had just ran in out of the rain, sopping wet.

“Er, hello.” I say, my accent making the simple greeting sound odd to my ears.

“Hey.” A nearby cashier says.

With that simple interaction, the rest of the store seems to stop caring! Most of the customers resume their days and I am left shivering on the anti-slip mat at the entrance.

“Mommy, why does that pony have a bow tie?” A small child asks his mother.

Of course, make a remark on the bow tie, and not the fact that I’m a *talking** pony. Wondrous to see how good the public education system is doing their job*

On that note, I ignore the silly question (because bow ties are cool, after all), and move on over to the seating area that is reserved for the customers using the store given internet.

Managing to sit down on one of the stools, I pull the monstrous laptop out of my satchel and place it on the light stained table in front of me. Opening it up, I manage to get hooked to the sweet nectar I call internet. Pulling out the sorely-needed USB optical mouse, I struggle for several minutes before managing to plug it in, and start to scroll through the news-littered internet. After, of course, checking much more important material.

Leading back to YouTube for the second to listen to one of my favorite songs, a certain popular video catches my eye entitled: Help, I’m Derpy. Normally I would think this is another one of those popular ‘hurdehur look how silly I am’ type video but, in addition to my current state, the thumbnail shows a picture of the ditzy eyed, blond mane, gray furred pony we've all come to know and love; Derpy.

Hastily clicking on the thumbnail, it leads me to a video of yet another happy case of human-to-pony fliggermenjenson. I grab a pencil out of my satchel and start to type a response:

Dear fellow pony,

Nonono, that just sounds too formal

Uh, hey, um, I'm kinda in the same predicament that you are.

Perfect start.

Anyways, I've become a pony too, Octavia, to be exact. I was kind of hoping I could go with you to New York. I feel that going alone would drive me insane. Just let me tell you, being a pony sucks. I bet that you’ve only been one for two, maybe three hours. Though I've only been one of ...them... for 8 hours, I can tell you it’s hell. Just, let me come along with you.

Thanks, I guess.

-Octavia.

With that said and done, I wait. And soon enough, I get a response:

Dear 'Tavi

Thank you so much for the offer, I truly have nothing better to do and I think this could still be fun.We can meet up at that ice cream place; ColdStone #20392. I heard a girl who apparently got turned to Fluttershy is going to New York. Anyhow, I think we might be able to join her. So, watcha say? Ready for an adventure?

~Derpy

P.S. I have an eyepatch now! Eyepatches are cool!

"An eyepatch? Really?" I mumble to myself, at a disbelief of the crudeness of the post script.

After eying that response several time to make sure it was true, a sudden tinge hit my stomach.

Hunger.

Shaking my head clear of thoughts, I put the laptop into its rightful place located in the satchel, and start to head down into the isles, looking for any cheap, hunger quenching food.

Looking at the plethora of brands, I pick out a box of graham crackers, and a two liter of coke.

The Breakfast of Champions!

With that happy thought, I walk towards the checkout stand, and stare in awe of how tall the counter was.

Nudging the customer behind me, I ask I simple request:

"Can you, uh, put my stuff up there for me?"

To my belief, the man just stood there, staring down at me with a puzzled look. Slowly, he grabbed the two items and placed them on top of the rolling black rubber.

"Thanks" I say, and move forward to the latter part of the convention belt

"That will be two dollars, and seventy-five cents. Will plastic be okay for you, miss?"

I felt the urge to correct the cashier, but, technically she was correct.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Putting three dollars near her feet, I grab the bags and leave out the door.

Now all I have to do is find that Coldstone, where ever the hell it might be.

The Extremely Putrifying Smell of a Referenced Song

A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By: ThatOneRandomPony

Sup guys, this is another chapter.

Say whaaaaaat

ANYHOW, this was a collaboration chapter between

ParadoxDerpy's story and mine, where the two characters met up.

But, uh, no editorial work, and I'm tired. So expect simple errors.

But yep, enjoy the story of awesomeness.

My longest chapter.

-~

This is by far the worst plane ride I've ever had the honor of being in.

Let me explain:

After I learned that the ColdStone creamery was in California, I felt like someone had stuck a sword through my face. It hurt, of course. I was going to have to get a ride there, and It couldn't be a car ride. So really the only other option was flying. I wasn't going to walk hundreds of miles to just meet up with some random person- er, pony, so I decided to take a plane. That was the worst decision of my life I have ever made.

-6 hours ago

Staring in awe at the distance from ColdStone and I, I decide that the truly best option would be to fly. It would be fast, and quick. Walking out to the sidewalk, I pull out a crudely written sign that reads:

NEED RIDE TO AIRPORT

        PAYING $20

Of course, to this scenario I have laid out, there were many different possibilities.

a) I could be taken and murdered to death.

b) Raped THEN murdered to death

c) Be jacked 20 dollars, as well as my other belongings

d) DIE

e) Make it safe to the airport

By all means, these are in descending order of likely-hood.

Not after too long, and many creepy offers, a man aged around 25, maybe 26, pulls up in his Honda, and offers me a ride of no charge. I accept the offer mostly because I feel that a 25 year old's odds of murdering me are less compared to a man aged around 40-50.

Ah, I watch too much criminal minds. I should stop.

"Thanks for the ride" I say, as I climb into the back seat, taking in the strong aroma of the car. It smelled of pine, and, well, a lot of it.

"No problem. The airport, right?" He asks, starting up the car again.

"Yup, just drop me off at the service center."

"Will do" The young aged man says, as he pulls off from the curb, and speeds off towards Seatac.

A long silence occurred until the man peeps up for the second time.

"I've read the news, you know. You're from My Little Pony, right? I'm quite fond of that show myself"

Frack.

The one car ride I get is with a brony.

Dear hope to god he isn't one of those 'crazy obsessed' ones, like you see on YouTube.

But it makes sense. Some random person wouldn't offer me a ride not knowing what I was. Whatever the hell that is.

"Can, uh, you just turn on the radio? I need some music, I kinda don't want to talk about it." I say, staring out the window of the moving hunk of metal.

"Sure, I guess" the man says as he turns the knob located on the dashboard, releasing a blast of sound from the speakers. Bad music, actually.

"Er, 107.7, please." I say, cringing from the poorly made 'music'.

The knob turns and some better music comes on.

Seattle's own Nirvana comes on, playing 'It smells like teen spirit'.

Though the song is pretty decent, it provides little comfort to my damaged life.

Around 20 minutes pass before we pull up at the airport, and I jump out.

I thank the man, and swing the satchel around my body.

Of course, this is where my life becomes a complete replica of hell.

Walking into the airport, the people around me become silent, and stare at me funny with this weird look.

Shit.

Roughly 2 hours later~

I did it. I got a ticket. It was only 250 dollars, too.

Luckily, I was able to ride in the actual coach class of the plane, and not the animal thing.

Looking down at my ticket, it reads: GATE 0B

Thank god, thats the closest gate!

Walking to the security area, I dump all of my belongings into the plastic tray and roll it through the machine

Of course, the bag is clean, but, the security guard seems more than curious to what I am.

“Step aside, please.” The man in blue says to me.

I moan, and step aside to the waiting area.

This obviously can’t go well

The large man in blue comes over and steps to the side of me.

“Do you, uh, mind telling me what you are?”

“For the umpteenth time, I’m a pony, from the show My Little Pony. Don’t you ever read the news? Now if you don’t mind I have a plane to catch” I say, as I grab my things, and walk away from the security guard.

Not the smartest idea, but it worked.

I trot fast to the next gate, and take a seat on one of the chairs.

Ohgod, the people. They’re all staring at me.

Act.

Normal.

Nonetheless, I make through the waiting period of a short 30 minutes, and board my flight. Luckily, I get the front-coach seats. As an extra bonus, the window seat too!

Looking to my left, I notice two empty seats.

Who gets to be the lucky patron that has the honor of sitting next to me? I think to myself chuckling.

Not much later, a single mom with their daughter comes to the row I’m sitting at, and stares at me awkwardly.

They must be the lucky winners

“Uh, Hi” I say briefly to the small family.

The daughter, aged around 7 or 8, seems completely shocked.

“Pony!” I can hear her whisper excitedly to herself.

Shit

The girl rushes to me and hugs tightly

“Ohmygod! You’re a real life pony from that show!”

She beckons to her mom to get her attention

“Can we keep it mom, can we?”

Nope, not ever

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not a pet”

“It’s a talking pony!  What’s your name, Mrs. Pony?”

“Octavia Phili-”

Where the hell did that come from?!

“Ethan. The name’s Ethan.”

“Ethan, isn’t that a boys name?”

“Er, well it’s a long story. Read the news.”

“Mommy can you get me the news?” The daughter asks, oblivious to the fact ‘the news’ was not a single abject.

I stare at the mom, with an expression made of just pure awkwardness.

“Terribly sorry about my daughter, she just loves horses.”

“Fantastic.” I say, rolling my eyes. I lean my head against the widow, and stare at the gray concrete runway.

“And it’s fine, by the way. Not like today can get any worse.”

A voice comes on in the intercom, informing of the safety precautions, and the plane soon takes off. Now I’m stuck in a flying metal tube with this crazy little eight year old.

“Mrs. Ethan, are you from Ponyland?”

Again with the whole ‘Mrs’ thing...

“No, I’m not. And please, just call me Ethan. I’m not too fond of this whole ‘mrs’ thing.” I say, waving my hoof around in a circle at that last remark.

“Okay Mrs. Ethan!”

“Damnit” I whisper under my own breath.

She’s only as smart as the average 8 year old, and by how good the public education system is doing, I’m assuming that’s not so well

“Just try to keep all your questions at ease for the flight, so if you have any more, please, just get them over with.” I say, bracing for impact.

“Can you do magic? Whadda ‘bout fly?  If you can fly, why are you on the plane? How did you get on earth?  Did you come from a time machine?  Why do you have a bow-tie?  Why do you have a tattoo on your flank?  Whats it like being a pony?  Is it really fun?  Can you make me rainbow?  Can you make me a pony?”

Ohmygod. Screw you, world

“Do you see a horn or wings? Didn’t think so. I’m from earth, always have been, always will be. Bow-ties are cool, for your information. It’s not a tattoo, it’s a cutie mark. I got it when I was-”

Where the hell did that come from? I don’t know how I got this accursed stain on my body! I wasn’t even Octavia!

“Uh, er, it’s not a tattoo. Being a pony? Hell. The exact opposite of fun. I can’t make you a pony, and even if I could, you would regret that choice. Anything else?” I say, not even looking at her, still staring outside the window.

“Did you wish, really hard? Ya’ know, to become a pony?”

“Not even close. I just woke up like this. Today, actually. Again, it’s hell. You do not want to be whatever this is.”

“Oh, okay” the girl says, as she slumps down in her chair.

“Sorry for being a party pooper, today has just been a long, terrible day.”

Of course, for the next 3 hours, she bickers on and off about ponies, how she loves them, and all that stupid stuff.

In three hours, we finally made it into California. Or, thats what I would guess. I feel sorry that mom. I just about passed out, and had to be waken up by flight attendants.

Shaking my head, I stand up and stretch my furry legs.

I walk out of the terminal, and see open benches, located at a terminal that leaves tomorrow at 3pm

Perfect

I walk to the comfiest-looking one, and collapse onto it.

My eyes slowly drift down as my thoughts turn to nothing.

I dreamed of nothing.

I wake up, and stare at the clock located a couple feet away from me.

It reads 2:53

Perfect

Gathering my things, I walk into the main airport, and stare at the main front door exit.

Thank you!

I run out of the exit at full force.

The second I step outside, I regret it.

Heat.

“Damnit.” I say, crawling into one of the cabs parked out front of the airport.

“1030 East Cypress Avenue, please.” I say, buckling in for the short journey.

Soon enough, the taxi comes to a stop, I pay the fare, and hop out.

Walking into the store, I see a ditzy eyed gray mare sitting on a chair.

“Er, Derpy?” I ask, staring at her carefully.

To my surprise, I’m greeted with a large hug, and a somewhat welcoming of my new name.

“Oh, please! Get a hold of yourself!” I say, desperately trying to wench her body from mine.

“Oh, sorry about that. I have had the craziest day” She says, slightly blushing

“You and me both” I mumble to myself, rolling my eyes.

“We need to talk some serious biz” She says, as she gets in life for some over-topped ice cream.

“You mean like getting to New York and setting this thing out? Yeah, I think so.” I say, and pause. I stare down into my breakfast-of-champions bag, and stare back up.

“Can you get me a single-scoop chocolate, please? I have money”

“Sure, anything mixed in?” She asks, as she stares at the wide variety of sugary goods.

“No, thank you. Maybe some Oreos if they have them, but nothing more.”

I’ve never been really fond of toppings in ice cream. I feel that it ruins the wonderful creamy consistency that is chilled milk.

She says something, but at that point I’ve pulled out my laptop and completely zoned her out.

I start to look on any travel sight for the rough cost of a trip.

“Lets see here, New York is around 2500 miles from here, and flight costs are pretty expensive, or, at least to how much money I have left. What about taxis? Nah. That would be so much...” I mumble to myself, while browsing. I’ve always had a bad habit of talking to myself.

Soon, she breaks my concentration.

“Let me see the laptop for a bit once we get our ice cream, okay?” she half asks, half lets me know in advance what she’s going to do.

The last thing I want her to do is use my piece of machinery,

“No offence, but, no” I say, flatly, continuing to look at the travel pages.

“Why?” She asks, staring at me.

“Because I don’t want your hands all over it. Er, hooves. I guess.” I reply, snappily.

I’m not usually a control freak, but, so much has been going on lately.

“I’m not going to break it, just calm down ‘Tavi”

Ugh, again with that annoying nickname.

“It’s not that I think you’re going to break it, I just don’t trust you. I mean, now that you’re Derpy, I’m not sure if there are any psychological changes, or anything along those lines...” I say, stiff as a rock.

“Oh, jeez. You have to point that out, little Ms. Snob” She says. I can tell she’s trying to keep her emotions down

“Well it’s not my fault that you might be a... er... special... horse.” I say, blanking out.

That might have just pushed it there.

Frack

“SPECIAL?! You have no idea what you just said, bitch.”

Ohgod, I don’t want to die

I shrink back in the chair, staring down at the ground.

I know that people were staring at us.

“Do, uh, do you want to use my laptop?” I ask quietly, not making eye contact.

“Yes, I would. Thank you.” She says, as she takes the machine, and starts to type.

-~

“...and done!” She says, as she finished. “We are going to meet up with the ‘fluttershy’ girl in Kansas City, then we will drive together to New York” She says, staring at the screen. “You might also want to delete your Internet history?”

“W...Why?” I ask, quietly. I have no idea why, but everything, all the emotions seem doubled. I’m still half scared to death from her earlier remarks.

“I logged into my email, and I don’t want you to have it on your computer.”

“Can’t you just clear it?” I ask, hoping she would just comply to one of my requests.

“It’s your laptop” She says, shoving it in my direction.

“No, please, you do it. I’m eating.” I lie, as I shove it back towards her. I’m not really eating it, I’m more just casually licking it over time to make the impression that I am.

“Fine” She says, stretching that word out for forever. She (hopefully) clears the history and cache.

I grab the laptop, and take note at the new background. I stare at her intently.

“Where’s the original background image?” I ask, cold.

It’s the only scrap of memory I have of my old bedroom. Or house, that is.

“It’s on file” She replies.

“Where, though? Change it back. Now.” I demand, wanting that background image more  than anything in the world

“Find it yourself!” She replies, hastily.

“Change it back! Your background was terrible anyways!”

“It was my room! The only scrap of memory I have of home, change it back!

“No, I can’t. You don’t understand!” I say, as I rush out of the store, leaving my ice cream on the table.

“Wait up!” I hear her say behind me.

I can’t take this anymore. My life, it sucks. It’s ruined. My family would hate me, and I’m screwed. I stole money from my mom, and that laptop.

I snapped.

“What do you want?!” I scream at her. Tears were starting to form at the base of my eyes. I didn’t know what I felt, but I knew I was sad and angry.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for what I said” She says, as she walks slowly towards me.\

“Just... Just grab my things. I don’t feel good when they’re left alone in a busy place like that.” I partially lie. Of course it’s not a good idea to leave expensive things alone, but I also didn’t want to be near that pony anymore.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Things aren’t going to get better if you don’t tell me.”

“Just grab it! I can’t tell you if the constant fear of losing my last personal belongings is tearing me to bits!”

She gets up, and trots back into the shop.

Looking at the sidewalk and the wall, I collapse into the intersection of the two.

I cry.

The Unpredictable Case of the Telephone Pole

I can hear the grey eyepatch-wearing pony walk behind me.

“Here, have this,” She says, holding out my new ice cream “It’ll make you feel better”

Instead, I stare back at her. I can feel the warm salty trickle of tears go down my cheeks. I had no idea what to think. All I knew was that I was sad, and confused. I say nothing, and just continue to stare back into her eyes.

“Don’t want it to melt, do ya’?” She says, smiling at me, probably in an attempt to help my mood

“I don’t want ice cream. I want to die”

“Now why would you want to do that? You have a full life ahead of you!”

“You mean a life full of lies? I mean, my life isn’t going as great as it is! Vinyl and I-”

No. Nononono! I don’t know Vinyl! I’m from earth, not Equestria, *earth!***

I can’t take this anymore. I shove my now furry face into my now furry legs, and cry like I’ve never cried before.

“Honey, it’s alright, we're in this together!” She says, hugging me, and yet stroking my mane at the same time. It was oddly comforting.

“No, its not. You can't even help me as it is!” I scream back at her

“Shh, it's alright”

I pull away from the hug. “No, it’s not.”

“That's why we’re going to new York”

“But I’ll have gone crazy by then! I don’t even know who I am anymore!” I say back. I’m desperate.

“Hey, aren’t we all crazy? I mean, who else would be crazy enough to come all the way here to meet up with me?”

“I only came here because I thought you could help me,” I say, pausing

“but you can’t.”

“The only way to get help is to help yourself.”

“How can I even do that?! I’m going insane!” I say staring down at my hooves "How are we even going to get to New York from here?” I ask, quietly

“Walking, driving, flying...” She responds back, unconfident.

“And your point is?” I ask, not really paying attention to what she is saying

“Hold on, come look at this” She says, walking over to a small flyer posted on a wall

“Idunwannamove,” I slur back to her, still lying in my cramped position. “What does it say?”

“Something about the... Lunar guard?” She says, grabbing the flyer, and dropping it

“Ack!” I say, scrambling the poster away from my face. “And, uh, your point is?”

“It interests me. Where is it again?”

“Somewhere in California, er, or here. I guess. I don’t really care for it. Isn’t our main goal to get to New York?”

“Oh, shush! We’re going here first!” She says, dragging me along by my bowtie “Hey, stoppit!”

I smack her her hoof away, and scootch back. “Your idea is on the border of stupid! Actually, It’s already crossed the bleviathan order, had children, so now it’s implanted in your America, uh, er, I mean mind!”

The next thing I see is the back of Derpy’s hooves meet my face.

I feel memories flooding my head, over taking the others.

I can’t...

Handle..

I then opened my eyes, surrounded by a world I have never seen.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking at the scarf and eyepatch wearing pony.

“Are-are you ok?”

I look to my left, and watch a leviathan of a steel monster hurl down a black path. I scoot back all the way to the wall.

“W-Where are we?!” I ask. The only emotion I felt was horror.

“Er, near a Coldstone”

“B-but I don’t see any rocks near here” I say, looking around even more

“Umm, quick question. What’s your name?”

“Octavia Philharmonica, why?” I reply, still shocked.

“Okay, do you know my name?” She asks, awkwardly staring at me

“Ditzy Doo, or something like that,” I say, waving my hoof around in circles. “I don’t really hang out with ponies of your kind”

“What do you mean by that?!”

“You’re a retarded horse, aren’t you?” I say, confident in my answer.

“Excuse me, I’m not some retarded horse!” She screams at me, as if I said something wrong

“Then what are you?” I ask in disgust

“I’m myself, and I don’t need to take any bullshit from you, thats who”

“Well in that case, I wouldn’t want to be near you so you can’t take bullshit from me!” I yell, and walk down the grey concrete path.

And then I see it.

A tall, tan-skinned thing wearing clothes

I clench to the side of the street in horror as it reached for me

I can hear the derp-horse in the background. “Um, sir, could you please let go of my imbecil of a friend?”

“I’m anything but your friend, retard!” I yell back at her

“Oh shut up you moron! How dare you call me a retard! You think you're Octavia of all things! We are on EARTH, not Equestria, we live on EARTH!” She screams back at me

Wh- what? That’s not... not possible

“W- what?” I ask, full of terror. I start to look around in a panic, and start to hyperventilate

“It took you that long to notice?”

“B- but I was.. just in.. I can’t” I say, as I start to feel my head go light, and my vision blurry.

-~

“That would have had to have been the craziest dream...” I mumble to myself as I open my eyes. Though the first sight of the grey mare isn’t pretty.

“No! Nonononononono!

“Good morning, pain in the ass”

“I want to be back in Equestria, now!” I scream at her

“If I could I would” She states flatly.

I start to tear up a bit. “Where the hell are we?” I ask, desperatly

“We are in Redding, you traveled here so we could meet up’

“I most certainly did not!” I pout back at her

“Yeah you did. You just don’t remember it.”

“How can I remember something I never did?” I scold back at her

“Let me inform you on what is going on: People are turning into ponies”

People?

“What are... people?” I ask in confusion

“Er, humans. Remember that thing you tried to pick you up? That was a human”

“That thing?” I ask, looking back

“Uh yeah. That thing was a human”

I sit silent for a while before asking. “Why?”

“Nobody knows, that’s why I’m taking you to New York”

“New what-now?” I ask, starting to get confused again

“This big city, don’t ask”

“Like Canterlot?”

“Uh, more like Manehatten, but close”

“Wait. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be delivering mail?”

“I’m not Derpy, I don't do that.”

“But you are, you’re right here, and you are you, aren’t you?”

“My name is not Derpy, it’s Danielle. I’m glad to see that you’re catching on”

“Oh, so Derpy, er, Ditzy is just a nickname around ponyville?”

“Thats not my name...”

“Yes it is”

“Thats not my name, though. Danielle is my name.”

I stare at her with a dumbfounded look

“I don’t understand...”

“I’m not Derpy, or Ditzy, or anything like that. I’m not a mail mare from Equestria, or anything like that.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m Danielle, that’s who I am”

I ponder my thoughts for a while before saying more

“I think I’m starting to get this,” I say, pausing for a while. “but I’m Octavia, though”

“Yeah, I know that” she replied, rolling her one eye.

“So what’s wrong?”

“This is what’s wrong: I shouldn’t be a pony.”

“Well why not? You were born in Ponyville, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t. I was born here on earth.”

“But you’re a pony...”

“Since yesterday morning, people have been transforming into ponies, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right. But thats impossible.”

“Exactly!”

“So how is this happening?” I ask, astonished. “Discord?”

“Eeyup”

“Am I... is this reality?”

“Sadly, yes”

“So... I think I’m starting to understand this.” I say as I look around.

My cello! Where is it?!”

“Where’s my cello?” I ask, coldly

“You... don't have one”

“Yes I do. I always keep it with me.”

“Not here”

“Yes I do”

“This is another dimension, you became a pony yesterday, just as I did.”

“No I didn't, and I need to know where my cello is!”

“What's the last thing you remember?”

“Falling asleep”

“No, what do you remember?”

“I remember going to bed after a show, and falling asleep”

“Dreams?”

“Uh, not really. I don’t dream too much. Though, I did have a flashback in my dream, er, if that was a dream.”

“Dreams are messages from your brain to remind you what happened the day before. “What was the flashback?”

“It was between Vinyl and I... say, where is she?”

“I have no idea, she... kinda doesn’t exist here”

“She what? That’s just not possible”

“This isn’t Equestria, this is America”

“I know that, but she still has to exist, though”

“Not here, or atleast not yet. If you didn’t know, people have been turning into ponies”

“Oh, yeah, right. I guess its not that bad, though”

“You need to watch the news.”

“How do I watch news?”

“By using a T.V., imagine tiny flashing lights making pictures.”

“Wh-what? Like a photograph?”

“Eeeyup” She said, doing an impression of a farmer at sweet apple acres, or something.

“You irritate me on so many levels”

“Well sorry for tring to help”

“How are you helping?”

“Thats not the point, now is it?” I reply back, after thinking for a bit

“I hope you get hit by a bus!”

“Well I’ve rather had enough of this,” I say, as I stand up. “I wish the same for you, too” Finishing as I start to walk away.

“I wouldnt go running out if I were you!” She calls to me

“And why’s that?”

“How stupid are you?”

“I would very much like to ask the same question towards you”

“Ok then, have you seen an ipod?”

“A what now? A ‘Eye-Pod’?”

“Exactly!”

“How is that relevant to what we’re in right now?”

“It’s dangerous to walk in a world you know nothing about.”

“And we’re in this so called ‘America’ now, right?”

“Yes, do I need to give you a map?”

“I think I can make it through here without a map, thank you”

“Actually, you can't. Doing that is just like asking to be stuck in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well if I get lost, I can ask for some help, right?”

“From who?”

“Any of these walking two-leggers, that who!” She says, turning around, and smacking face-on into a large telephone poll

Memories... human past... flooding...

My nose

It hurts

Oh, shit! It hurts!

“‘Tavi, are you okay?”

My nose felt like the burn of a thousand suns.

“Owowowowwow!” I screamed, clutching my nose

“Okay, that answered my question.”

“My nose! Or snout, whatever! Is-is it broken?” I ask, trying to show her my snout without hurting it

“Nope, not that I can see”

“Frack! Then why does it sting so much?!”

It might be... bleeding” She gave me an awkward smile. “I guess I have to take you to the Doctor, huh?”

Heh... doctor...

Wait.

I stare at my hoofs, noticing a red stain. “Damnit! Thats the third nosebleed in the past two days! Where’s the nearest doctor, anyways?” I ask, my voice muffled

“Uh, I think there is one over by Coldstone...”

“Well,we’re about 10 feet from it, dummy” I say, still clenching my nose

“Uh, I have Derpy’s brain...”

“I think I can tell from the, uh, slow thoughts you are having”

“Hold on, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I heard Derpy’s voice...”

-~

Why she decided to bring me into a vet, I’ll never know. I’m not fond of being treated as an animal.

“How about getting some help, Derpy?” I ask, still clenching my snout.

“Shh! I’m filling out the paperwork!” She snaps back.

“But it hurts like living hell!” I almost yelled back at her.

“Then you fill it out!” She screams back at me, and hoofed me the pen and clipboard.

I kick away the clipboard from my now stumpy hands, or hoofs. Whatever.

“You think I can do that when I’m holding my nose?!” I scream back.

“Perhaps I can help.” Said a kind feminine voice from beside Derpy.

“So, your nose hurts, right?” Says the lady as she kneels down and takes the paperwork. “Looks like some minor blunt force trauma. We’ll get this paperwork filled out and get you in for some scans just in case there’s damage to and hard tissue that we can’t see, okay? Should be nothing to worry about.”

“Can we just get this over with?” I ask. I’m not in a good mood.

“Sure, Ms. Phillimonia, right this way. We’ll clean up the bleeding and get those scans.”

As I was lead back to the room, I had no idea what was in store for me.

The Story of Me Wanting Rye

"Would you like for me to carry you?" Dr. Smith says as we head down the hallway. "It doesn't look very comfortable to walk on three legs like that."

“Ah, uh, sure” I say, no matter how strange I might have thought it would be to actually be carried. “Just be careful, alright?”

"Will do." She says while picking me up. "You know, you're not all that heavy, considering you're a small horse." She notes aloud once she's holding me.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t think so.” I say, almost shuddering at the word ‘horse’.

It wasn't long before she was setting me down on a table that seemed more suited to caring for dogs than a pony. "Sorry, we don't have any facilities for ponies of your size." she says as she grabs some cloth and starts to carefully wipe away the blood.

“It’s fine, just as long as you don’t treat as a dog!” I say, lightly chuckling at my last remark.

"I wouldn't talk to a dog like it can understand me." she says, smiling at my joke.

“Ah, true.” I say, before sighing. “How bad does it look just like from the outside?”

"A little bruising, but you look fine otherwise." she tells me as she starts cleaning the blood from the other side of my face. "I'd still like to get that scan, though."

“And how long would that take?”

"A few minutes. So long as you don't freak out while we take some pictures." she assures, dropping the cloth into a small laundry bin.

“Why would I freak out about some pictures?” I ask, wondering what else she could be talking about.

"Some people and animals do." She says while looking at my nose... snout... muzzle... thing.

“Well, uh, should we get started, then?” I ask the curious doctor.

“Let me just finish cleaning up the blood."

I sigh, and wait for the doctor to finish cleaning up the crimsons stains around my muzzle.

"Alright... That looks nice and clean..."

“So can we get started, then?”

"Yes ma'am." Dr. Smith says while she straightens her stance. "Although, would you mind telling me why you were crying?"

“I, uh, wasn’t crying at all,” I lie to the doctor.

"Your tear stains suggest otherwise, but if you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." she says with a slight hand gesture of 'no big deal.'

I remain silent for awhile before peeping up again. “Where to, exactly?”

"I'll lead you to the room if you want to walk, but I'll carry you if you still don't feel like walking." she offers.

Oh, carrying. That sounds really nice.

“Carrying would be nice, thanks.”

She picks me up and starts to carry me to the next room, but on way out of the room, she suddenly asks, "So, how did you hurt your nose?"

“Well, all I remember is just me going head-on into a telephone pole, really.”

"Wow. Were you watching where you were going?"

“Not, not really. I just turned around, and BAM! Telephone pole.” I say, moving my legs around during the Emeril Lagasse moment.

Although my sudden movements almost made Dr. Smith drop me. Fortunately, she righted her grasp before I fell. "Careful, you're not exactly a toy poodle." she jokes.

“Ah, sorry. Just got a little carried away with the moment, you know?” I say, lightly chuckling.

"It's okay, just tell me when you'd like to walk around. I'd hate to drop you on the floor." she says, her voice still tinged with humor.

“Just, uh, carry me all the way. Thanks” I say, acting a bit more serious than the moment actually was.

"Well, I can't carry you everywhere. I'm not that strong." she says as we round a corner.

“But as you said before, I’m not that heavy, right?” I say, nuzzling into her arms, trying to get comfy.

"You're not exactly light, either." she tells me. "Not that you look like you'd be either." she adds, clearly trying to avoid upsetting me.

“Sorry. It’s just that getting carried around is a pretty sweet gig, if you ask me” I say, smiling.

"Don't get too used to it. I can't carry you everywhere."

“Well, for the time being, I’m going to enjoy the sweet nectar that is being carried around.”

"So you're just taking advantage of my kindness?" she asks, although her voice holds no malice or pain, but is instead, somewhat jovial.

“Well, yeah, basically. Isn’t it your job to take care of poor, sick little animals?”

"Aren't we all animals?" she asks.

“Well, technically yes, but I would say you take care of animals such as dogs, cats, and in this case, ponies.”

"What makes the difference?"

“Well you’re quite more advanced in thoughts, science, yadayadah...”

"That's why I'm asking. Knowing the technical difference is a requirement, but I'd like to know what makes humans different from other animals."

“Thumbs.”

"What about monkeys? And apes? Gorillas even. What makes us different from them?"

“Things. But humans are like 98% apes, so, really, they’re pretty close.”

She stops in front of a door, looking at the ground. "What makes them different? That's what I'm wondering." she says, her voice finally vacant of any humor.

“I don’t know, alright?!” I say, annoyed by the doctors persistence.

"Sorry, I'm just... When I'm taking care of ponies like you, am I taking care of another animal, or a person?" she asks. "It bothers me not knowing if I'm treating those in my care properly."

“Well, uh, you’re kinda taking care of both. Though I may have thoughts and intellect of a human, I am a pony. So theres your answer.”

"That doesn't make the situation any better though..." she says. "Sorry, I really shouldn't be bothering you with my troubles."

“All that aside, shall we continue?” I say, pushing the negative thoughts out of my mind.

"I would, if the door wasn't closed." Dr. Smith says, gesturing to the plaques beside the door she stopped next to with her head.

“Here, move my head towards the door knob. I can help you.”

"The room's in use. We never close the door unless the room is being used."

“Well can you see how much longer whatever is going on in there is going to take?” I ask, slightly yawning.

Almost as if on cue, the door opens, showing an older man, and following behind him a pony. They pass wordlessly, but the pony looks like he wants to hold his stomach, almost as if it hurts.

I shrink back a microscopic amount. “What, uh, what was he in for?” I ask.

“I’m not really sure. First I’ve seen of him.” She says, stepping through the doorway. “Do you know him?”

“Fantastic” I say, under my breath. “No, and I doubt I ever will, really. And I bet it was meat- he looked sick to his stomach.”

“But... Ponies are herbivores.” She says, looking confused as she stops, thinking about something.

“Yeah, and I hate that. I tried meat yesterday morning after this happened, and I basically threw up instantly.”

She looks at me with this confused look for a moment before she sets me down on a table, shaking her head. “I’m going to need you to lie still for a few moment, okay?”

“Alright” I say, trying my best to be still on the cold table top.

“Okay, I’ll be stepping in and out so that I can operate the machine. Feel free to say something if you’re uncomfortable.” She tells me as she starts to move my legs a bit.

“Uh, alright” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable already by her handling of my legs “How long will I have to lie here like this?”

“Only a few minutes.” She says before quickly pulling her hands back, apparently having noticed I was uncomfortable. “Sorry, I just don’t know how to explain the position I need you to lie in...”

“That’s, uh, fine. Just be careful, ok? I don’t necessarily like to be handled, other than carried, of course.”

“Of course, of course.” she says with a light giggle, going back to moving my legs around.

“So, uh... How are things?” I say, in hopes of trying to make the mood a little less awkward.

“We have talking ponies coming in, how do you think things are?” She asks, her lightheartedness coming back.

“Different, I would expect. You know why though, right?” I ask, assuming that she already knows why.

“Honestly no. I’ve seen your kind on the news, but I’ve yet to hear anything about why you’re showing up.” she says as she reaches up and positions a large machine over my head. “Remember, it’s just a picture.”

“Yeah, I know. I know what a picture is, and I know a lot about a lot of things... I’ll tell you about it later.” I say, remaining still for the camera.

She nods wordlessly before walking into a smaller room inside of the room I’m in. It was kind of hard to see inside the room where I was lying down with a giant camera over my head.

I could use some food right about now...

A dandelion and bleu cheese sandwich? That sounds pretty good...

Wait.

Dandelions?

I smack my head against the table, in hopes of ridding the pony-ridden thoughts inside my head.

A moment later, Dr. Smith steps just outside of the small room. “What happened?” she asked.

“Uh, nothing” I say, quickly lying to the doctor.

“Right, well, I’m not sure if the first shot was taken while you were moving or not, so I’m going to go ahead and snap a few extras, just in case, alright?”

“Yeah, sounds great” I say, this time trying to rid all pony thoughts from my mind.

Steak. Ribs. Burger. Meat sandwich. Calzone. Pizza. Salad.

No! Not salad!

Veal. Venison. Other meaty things.

Definitely not a dandelion and bleu cheese sandwich.

Especially if its on rye...

Definitely does not sound tasty.

Though I did not know it, my mouth was starting to drool from the temptations of probably the best sounding food ever.

Dr. Smith came over again, moving the machine away this time. “Alright, and we’re done here.” she says cheerily.

Though I can hear her, it all sounds like muffles. Sandwiches are the first thing on my mind.

“Ms. Phillimonica?”

“Dandelions!” I shout, coming out of a sandwich trance.

The vet smirks, clearly trying not to laugh at what I’d just said. “We can get you some if you’re hungry.” She offers.

“Yeah, with bleu cheese, and on some rye... Wait. No! I don’t want that!” I say, trying to change the subject. “How, uh, is my nose?”

She laughs for a moment. “We need to wait for the pictures to, sort of develop. We’ll be able to tell in a few minutes.” she assures with a good natured smile.

“Cool, cool” I say, trying to get the dancing sandwich out of my mind.

"Would you like me to help you off the table?" she asks. "Someone else might need to use the X-ray machine here, so we kinda need to leave this room."

“Yeah, sure” I say, kind-of propping myself up.

The vet didn’t say much as she helped me down off the table and started towards the door out of the room they use for X-rays.

“So, uh, how’s the pay here?” I ask, trying to break the silence.

“It’s decent enough.” She says, opening the door for us.

“Thats good to hear. Do you like working here?”

“It makes me feel like I’m doing something nice, yeah.”

“Good, good.” I say, trying to think of anything to say. “Are the pictures done yet?”

“I could go see if they are, but you’d have to wait for me to get back anyways.” she says, turning back down the hall toward the preliminary examination room we were in.

“I’d like to see the pictures with you. Though it may not look like it, my nose still hurts like a bit-, er, uh, female dog.” I say, watching my language.

“You’ll see them, I’ll even let you see them first.” she says, stopping just outside the room she cleaned my face up in.

“How about we just look at them together? I’d rather not mistake anything shown for something...”

“I’m not going to let you look at your X-rays without looking at them myself.” She says, trying not to laugh. “That’s just asking for something to be misconstrued.”

“Yeah,” I say, chuckling “Don’t want any mistakes, do we?”

"Of course not. I'll go get the photos, you just wait here for a moment." she says while leaning on the door frame.

“Alright. Let me know if it’s bad, alright?”

"I'll let you take a guess first." she says before walking off, leaving me alone again.

Well. This sucks I think, lying down on the weirdly warm floor.

I can hear my stomach grumble from only having be fed some old spaghetti and half of a ice cream cone.

I could really for a sandwich...

You know what, I really could!

“Can anyone here get me a dandelion and bleu cheese sandwich?!” I call out, hoping for an answer.

A moment goes by, before I see Dr. Smith walk into the room, a little hurriedly. "So sorry about the wait, but I got slammed with paperwork at the worst possible time." she explains as she hands me the photos of my... Octavia's head.

I look at the photos, before holding them back out. “Are these bad?” I ask, noticing the odd placement of a peculiar white strip on the photo paper.

"Well, they're not good." she says, scribbling away at the papers on her clipboard tirelessly.

“Well, uh, what is it, then?” I ask, carefully

"Nothing horrible, but you've got a small, non-threatening crack in your skull." she tells me as if it's not very serious.

“B-but it’s a crack in my skull. How is that not serious? I mean, the skull holds something very precious: your brain. And if anything were to happen to it-” I start to panic about it, before she cuts me off mid-sentence

"Calm down, calm...  Calm down. The crack is right around here," she says, pointing a finger close to my nose. "It's not even close to your brain. The most you have to worry about is a sore face while the bone mends.

"I would avoid blunt trauma to the face, and I recommend against eating nuts. I would prescribe some light dosage painkillers, but I'm sure you wouldn't like horse pills." she jokes,  smiling at me again.

Me, as worried as I get, take a jump on the offer. “I’ll take those painkillers, if you don’t mind, that is.”

She starts laughing, sitting down so that she won't fall over. "I didn't think you'd want the pills, honestly." she says, trying to look at me with a straight face.

“Well, I kinda worry about my health. Anything to help, really”

"Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing." she says, regaining her composure. "I'm not sure how you'll take the pills by yourself. These bottles aren't exactly, uh... pony-friendly?"

“Maybe you can put them in a ziploc container or something. It’d still be difficult, but it is easier in  a way.”

“Are you staying with someone?”

“I, uh, I think so. The Derpinator should be outside waiting for me”

"Then I'll be sure to get you some pills before you leave."

“Won’t that just be now, then? Or is there something else that needs to be done?”

"Well, some government officials have said they'd like to ask you a few questions about something, but I couldn't get them to tell me what."

“G-government officials? Are they here or something?” I ask, looking around cautiously.

"No, they said to get information on where you're staying, that way they can get in touch with you."

“Oh, well I’m staying in Manehatten, I-I mean New York!“

"How do you plan on getting there in one night? Do you have plane tickets?" she asks, standing up.

I dart my eyes to the left, then to the right. “Uh, yeah. Plane tickets.”

She motions for the door. "Well, what hotel do you plan on staying in when you land?"

“That was derpy’s job, so whatever one she booked.” I say, before pausing a short while. “So, uh, that medication?”

"I'll be getting you some Phenylbutazone. It's a painkiller that's likely to not harm you." she informs me as she starts to lead us to what I can only assume is the front of the building.

“How do I take it? Is it like a pill, a drink, or what?” I say, looking up at the doctor.

"I'll be giving you a pill that's to be eaten with your food."she starts as she turns and leads us down a hall. "Although I'd like to get your weight before I get you the prescription."

“Seems fair, I guess” I say, continuing to trot down the hall.

Soon, we had gotten my weight, and are now in the pharmaceutical section of the clinic picking up my medication.

“So, uh. How much did I weigh again?” I ask, carefully.

"Shockingly, almost a hundred and forty pounds. It's remarkable, really, considering your not fat at all, and are so small."

I pause for a moment before adding in again. “H-How?”

"It might just be the scale, so I'm being careful and only prescribing you two grams, twice a day. Once with breakfast, once at dinner."

“Should I just take one now?”

"Well, how bad does your face hurt?"

“Like someone just punched it” I say, trying to smile

"That's just the bruising, most likely."

“So should I just take one or not?”

"You should be fine until tonight if it doesn't hurt a lot by now." she says as she receives a bag filled with pills from someone on the other side of the counter.

“Can I see those?” I ask, looking at the white bag.

"Did you want to take one now?" she asks while she eyes me skeptically.

I nod, still staring at the bag.

"Must hurt more than you're letting on." she said as she got into the bag and produced a small pill, which she promptly split in two before holding out a half of it for me.

“Only half? I say, staring in a somewhat disappointment at the split-in-half pill in front of me.

"They're four gram tablets." she tells me as she holds the pill out to me.

Shrugging, I grab the pill and pop it into my mouth, not realising I don’t have some to wash it down.

"That might go down a bit rough, considering you didn't ingest any food with it. I'll get you a bottle of water for the road."

“Thanks” I say, rather dryly, before actually swallowing the pill. I can hear my stomach grumble as she leaves.

It only takes about a minute or two before she comes back with that water bottle, holding it out to me.

“Thanks,” I say, trying hard to hold it between two hooves. I twist the cap off with my mouth, and chug nearly half of it. It tastes good.

The Chapter No Matter How Much I Edit It I Will Always Hate It

A Writer’s Guide To Being Octavia

by ThatOneRandomPony

Holy fuck, it’s been a long time since Ive put out a chapter. With all the EOC tests and stuff, it’s taking up my time. Plus Ive been working on my new story. Jeebus. Well, the time has come. So, please, take this chapter. Sad, though, that this chapter is a really crappy chapter due to my slacking. No slacking from here on out!

Oh, there’s no derpy in this chapter.

Jus’ so you know

So yeah.

Here yah go.

~

For some reason I'm unaware of, this song seems to be in my head again.

Strange.

The song lyrics swirl in my head, My heeaaaaaaad is spiniiiin’, and I feeeeeeel alriiiiigh’

“Man, I feel good right now. Like I can do anything!” I say to myself, throwing the now empty water bottle on the ground.

Food! I need food!

“Where can a pony get food nowadays...” I question, eyeing the street for any food vendors, noticing one in bright vivid flashing colors traumatizing yet hypnotizing me at the same time.

“McDonalds...”

I churn my legs towards the fat-filled, pink slimed, utterly disgusting restaurant at full speed. Why? I have no idea.

Though, that may be a bad idea.

Nah.

I run in through the front doors, and basically jump up on the counter

“Large fries, large whatever salad you have”

The person behind the register didn't seem to hear me

“Did you hear me? I said Large fries and a large whatever salad you have!”

I stare at him in his eyes. How can one person be so stupid?

“Earth to human, you there?!”

“Y-yes, ma'am” He replies, “Seven eighty-four, p-please”

I put nine dollars down on the counter. “Just keep the change, I just want my food. And don't forget the sweet and sour sauce”

Not too much later I get the classic white bag with the yellow ‘m’ on it. I grab the bag with my mouth and hop off the counter, and grab one of those booth tables. Kinda big for only one pony, but oh well.

I set the bag onto the table, and grab the other side, and yank to my left. The “food” inside comes spilling out onto the table.

I bite the plastic cover thingy off the salad and shove my face into it.

Lettuce.

Yum.

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

I look back at the salad, noticing that they gave me a chicken salad.

“Oh, shit”

I run back to the counter where I got my order. Jumping up, I look the cashier in the face.

“You dumbass! You gave a pony meat!”

“I what now?”

“You deserve this” I say, standing up straight.

Next thing I know, I'm literally getting thrown out of the store. Maybe vomiting on him wasn't the best idea.

I land on my rump, a similar pain occurring from the first time it happened.

“Ow. Fucking idiots. Its his fault he gave me chicken.”

I stand up and regain my posture.

“What now?” I say, looking around the wonderful state of California.

I look into my satchel bag thing Ive kept.

Laptop, pencil, paper, and a can of coke. Strange, though. I don't remember packing that coke. Happy accident, right?

Taking out the coke, I stare at the metal top in awe.

Sometimes I wish I had thumbs, ya know?

“I guess this'll do” I say to myself, biting into the side of the tin.

Maybe not the best idea, but It certainly wasn't the worst one I thought of. Some included chucking the can at someones head hoping it would open on impact.

The can, not the head, jeesh. The minds of some people.

The soda from the can basically exploded all over my face. I cant believe I forgot how strong my choppers were.

I mean, her choppers. Not mine. Not that I could even forget something that I didn't even know.

But now my face is sopping wet from sticky coke.

Joy.

I chug down the rest of the Coke, and toss the can to the side. I don't think there's a law about talking magical ponies from Equestria throwing empty cans of coke on the ground on earth, so I think I'm in the clear.

The only problem was that the soda was still on my stupid fur-covered face

I sit down and contemplate on what to do next.

Perhaps sleeping?

Yeah. I think that sounds like a pretty swell idea.

But where to sleep is the question at hoof.

Perhaps asking a stranger would yield the best results

“Hey, bozo, where can I get a place to sleep?” I asked

The guy apparently just walked right by or didn't hear me.

“Hey! I was talking to you!”

The guy turned around, and for some reason, he seemed somewhat surprised. I wonder why.

“What do yo-” He started, looking around, only seeing a pony. “Hello?”

“Down here, bozo”

He just stumbled back a bit. ‘Parently he's never seen a talking pony before.

“Earth to human! You there?”

The guy just looks around. What the hell?!

“Dude, C’mon, you cant be serious. you've seen the news, right?”

“Alright, haha, very funny. You got me.”

“Ohmycele- Dude. This isn't a ‘haha pranked you kinda thing. I'm real! I'm a talking horse!”

“Uh... J-just don't do anything hasty, now.”

He threw a ten at me then ran. Sometimes people can just be retarded.

I take the ten and put it in my satchel.

Heh. Satchel.

I just think sleeping on the ground will be the best idea anypony ever has ever thought of. Ever.

I wander until I find an alley and lay down next to the classic green trash bin and close my eyes.

Perhaps nothing bad will happen after all.

Untitled Document

Wow. Nine whole months since I last updated. Well, I’m off of hiatus, and I’m back to writing. This chapter is really short, but that’s only because of at the current moment there isn’t anything to write about.

I woke up the next day beside the green trashcan. It wasn’t too bad. California isn’t too great, though, it’s pretty warm here most of the time. Anything above 74 I don’t like.

Standing up I took a look at my surroundings. Somewhat trashy, old, and something else that I really hope isn’t urine on the ground. Not too bad for California, right?

I shuffle out into the street, and stretch for a couple seconds. Was it still morning? It was somewhat brisk and the ground seemed to be slightly damp. I moved my hooves around in it for a bit in a short-lived attempt to get some of the dirt off before I realized doing it on concrete wasn’t too great of an idea.

Moving out to the street, I started to trot down the sidewalk.

I walk into a mini-mart. It was actually fairly large unlike the name intends. I grabbed a small bottle of coke and a bag of barbecue chips. I guess I hadn’t really had barbecue chips in a while.The last time I had them they just tasted like peanut butter.

I place the two items on the counter. The man, of course, stared for a bit before actually scanning the two items. He started to chit-chat.

“A bottle of coke and a bag of chips? Shouldn’t you be eating… healthier?”

I grunt and circled my hoof. “Yeah, and money is grown on trees”

The man does the same, excluding the sarcastic hoof movement. “Your total is 2.68, ma’am”

I reach into the tattered satchel and pull out a five thats crumpled up from just being thrown in there without care. I place it onto the counter, the hopefully not-something-gross taste lingering in my mouth.

He grabs it, flattens it out and gives me back two one dollar bills, a quarter, a dime, a nickel, and two pennies. I scrape them into my satchel as well as the refreshments and trudge back out into the city.

Wait. What was I supposed to do? Why am I even here? Oh don’t tell me I flew to California for nothing.

“C’mon! Think! Something about going to New Jersey? No, that can’t be right.”

I sit down in my frustration, hastily reaching into my bag and grabbing the coke. Opening it, I chug down about half of its contents, somewhat satisfied afterwards.

My nose.

I forgot about yesterday, though the sudden pain emerging from it helped jolt my memories. Seemed like it was a long time ago, huh?

I reach into my bag and pull out a small plastic bag of painkillers, downing one, and putting the rest back.

I scratch my head. The streets were still rather quiet. The streetlights were off, of course. I wonder You are a classical pony if the street light are a classical pony?

You are a classical pony. You are Octavia Philharmonica. You are a classical pony

I’m standing there… So many ponies watching. A cello? Of course- not a silly double bass. And I’m… playing it? Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? The song is good too- I think  it’s actually my favorite piece that I have written so far. That double string chord progression? Nice. And is that… Vinyl? In the crowd? Oh…

I scratch my head for the third time.

“Odd” I say, trotting off some more.

Hopefully these thoughts won’t come again soon.

They bring back bad memories.

The Epiphany of Violins and Trumpets Fillling One's Head

For the best reading experience, listen to this while reading the chapter. This entire chapter is written to the movement, and you will see breaks. It is separated into minutes. Each section should be read to every checkpoint. Dont skip ahead, it’ll ruin the experience. And yes, there are parts where you will just have to listen.

I sit here. Ahead of me lays building, more sidewalk, and street.

What’s the point of this? Why should I even bother to be here? Why can’t I just go out and live my life the way I want to live it? Some people just don’t get how I want to left alone and enjoy the sights and wonders of what we’re currently living in. So what I’m no longer what I was before. It’s just a new start.

I think.

I let low flowing sounds go through my thoughts, taking me over.

Pure bliss.

I just listen.

The soft, long, simple note continues for ages. Faint chords grow somewhat louder. Perhaps a glockenspiel?

[start reading at minute 2]

The sweet thought of violin fills my head, taking away all the melancholy that swept around me like a cloud. I don’t need to care what people think or do.

This is it. I get it know. I use music to escape what I’m currently living in, the torture of betralement and lies.

I am Octavia Philharmonica.

I listen some more.

The violin continues, getting more rich as the song progresses. Another one joins, creating a layered-effect. I like it.

[start reading at minute 3:00]

The music gets louder, faster, and more exciting. It fills my head, the trumpet overwhelming anything I thought before. This is what I wanted to do, and what I’ve always wanted to do my whole life. I don’t need anything else. Music is my life, that’s all that it is, and all that it will be.

Oh and the drums! How they come in, breaking the soft melody, turning it into a real piece.

The high pitch plucking of guitar throws everything together. the sudden of key movement, swinging back to normal before you could even say anything about it.

The memories of getting my cutie mark comes back. Playing some sort of shitty piece that can’t come close to touching the music going through my head. I wish I would have written this while I had the chance.

I need to write this down

I go through my satchel, and force myself to write down every note that I hear.

The repetative trumpets, the high string of guitar, the messy clash of cymbals, and most importantly, the beautiful stringed violin. Without it the piece would be empty. Boring. Flat.

It’s beautiful.

[Start reading at 6:20]

The music calms down, the guitar growing louder, accompanying the violin now. Everything I even think about this is becoming less articulate just to get the point across. It just sits like this. For a whole 2 minutes and 40 seconds, It just stays.

[Start reading at 9:00]

It picks up. Everything grows more distorted. The violin repeats the same double eight note loop for a minute or so.

[Start reading at 10:15]

My hoof furiously rights down every single note. It wont stop. I need to do this.

It’s beautiful.

I cry.

[Listen until the end, if you want to]

End of movement one.

I’m done.

The Start of An Idea That Everything Will Be Alright

The Note From The Author

I started this, what, two years ago? I hardly even remember what I wrote in the early chapters. This comment may be a reason why it seems off, and the further intentions for this story, and will definitely be off topic.

I hate this story. I honestly think everything I wrote 2 years ago is absolute shit. While still young (being nearly 16 as I write this comment), I hate my past self. I was weird, odd, and I hate it. I almost wish I never wrote this to begin with. Most likely my 13 (that's right- I was thirteen in October of 2012. 13 when I posted the first chapter.) year old self thought it'd be a fantastic idea to write some odd fan fiction about a fucking pony. It got fairly decent reviews, and while still being miles below on the popularity scale, I find it fairly decent for me.

Flash forward two years. New person, hates MLP, hates fan fiction, hates odd personalities, hates goths, ugly dressers, and pretty much everything. I'm assuming you hate me already, and I would think you would for my unpopular opinions.

However, I love written work. Catcher in the rye, F451, all of these absolute fantastic books, but I still hate reading, anyways. I'm a hypocritical asshole, but I really don't care.

Moving on, again, as you may see this story took a turn and went into a muddy ditch. And to me, that's fantastic. I like what I'm writing. And if what im writing is symbolical shit, then so be it.

So for the story? It won't be much of a story anymore. Really just snippits from her/my mind about opinions which is merging, or whatever the hell I said it was 2 years ago.

So if you want a meaningful story with a developed plotline, then leave. Thanks for the ride, however. I appreciate it. If you like symbolic garbage and risky opinions, and can take serious criticism, then sure, stay.

Thats all I really have on the topic for now. I typed this on my phone, so, there are probably a lot of typos, but I'm too much of a lazy assfuck to fix them, so be it.

The Towering Presence Of Someone Who Is Related To You

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

The Fact That No One Else Knows About This And If Anyone Found Out I'd Probably Kill Myself

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

The Fact That Jupiter Is A Really Fucking Crazy Place If You Think About It

Its been a while, my bad.

-

I open up my mac laptop. Username, password, same routine. I start to type:

Jupiter is a pretty crazy place if you think about it, huh? I mean, planets in general, its all really weird. Space is just a weird concept to me. How can you have nothing? I dont know.

I shut it. It probably auto saved, anyways.

I dont really remember where I am, who I am, or anything like that. I think California? Somewhere near redding or something. All I know is that I have a really shitty life right now. Who the fuck would want to be a pony?

I shake my head and move on. The streets are bland, and so are the streetlamps. California isn’t even that cool of a place. I guess San Fran is okay, but thats really only because of the wharf. Plus they dont get snow, so that kinda sucks. Oh well.

I slowly start to slow down as I come upon a realization: What am I doing?

My brain starts to spark.

Really, what am I doing? Like, for real. Why the fuck would I want to go to New York? Why the fuck would anyone want to go there, anyways? How the am I, some shitty-cursed background pony going to make a difference if I cant even pick up a can of Coke without it spilling all over myself?

The fact that I, or anyone for a matter, can make a huge difference with just themselves is ridiculous. Maybe I’m just dreaming right now. Maybe this is just a nightmare.

Maybe this is just 50 AD.

I look around, noticing a train track. I move towards it, my hooves slaved by my own nerves because the pony body is just really fucking weird.

I hear a loud noise and look to my left; blackness.

I feel myself floating.

I wake up.

The Wishing of Being In An Airplane Above The Archipelago

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

The constant pulse driving me forward at a steady 60 BPM.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Go. Go. Go. Go.

I find myself in the middle of nowhere. A gas station there, and a broken down pickup on the other side of the street.

Pickup or Gas Station?

A or B?

On or Off?

1 or 0?

1.

I head over the the pickup truck. A man where reddish-brown overalls sits inside. He holds a chrome box. He responds with two words: "Get In"

I do so. I want to. It's my choice.

The car is muggy. Mid 70's, probably. At least it moves.

He locks the doors and pulls out into the road.

5, 10, 15, 20, 30, 50, 70, 90, 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 5000, 5, 10, 15, 20, 30, 50, 70, 90, 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 5000, Go, Car, 5, 10, 15, 20, Moving, Pickup, Thoughts, Go, Dream, 30, 50, 70, 90, 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 5000, 1, 2, 3, 4, A, B, On, Off, 1, 0, Go, 5, 10, 15, 20, 30, 50, 70, 90, 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 5000, Car, Moving, Pony, Go, 5, 10, 15, 20, 30, 50, 70, 90, 100, 200, 300, 500, 1000, 5000, Thinking, Moving, Now. Repeat.

The objects around me are becoming a blur. I feel my burnt gray skin curl around the seat.

I look towards in him and ask him a single question: "Whats it like to be in a lucid dream?"

I feel the card expand, like a box that just seemed to fill up like a balloon.

Bigger

Bigger

Bigger

Bigger

Bigger

Bigger

Soon the universe is filled to its brim and we collapse.

Perhaps those pain meds were a little stronger than I originally thought.

Or maybe I'm just going insane?

Or am I just Octavia?

Maybe both.