The Day I Sneezed Pinkie Pie

Chapters

One chapter, ah ah ah!
Three chap- oh hell no, I'm outta here...
Alright, I'm back... Four chapters, ah ah ah!
Two chapters, ah ah ah!

One chapter, ah ah ah!

'Twas yet another slow day in the home of Dancing Dead, another day spent playing Fallout: New Vegas, and waiting hours on end for a few half-decent people to log on to their Skype accounts. The young man sat in his swivel chair, staring somberly at the small television screen before him as the grim, picturesque landscape of the Mojave Wasteland crawled by. Suddenly, the display became blurred, and a grey, oblong shape appeared at the top of the screen; it informed him that his controller had been disconnected.

'What the fuck, I just put in new batteries last night,' he thought as he tossed his Xbox remote up onto the desk next to him. *bang!* He rose from his chair wearing an expression not of anger, but of mere annoyance. 'The shit I put up with,' he began the epic journey across a small space of shag carpet to the end table which served as the console's shelter. 'Deadly', as he was sometimes referred to on the Internet, opened a drawer on the table and pulled out two new batteries from his seemingly endless hoard of AA's.

As he was making his way back to his chair, Deadly felt an immense pressure build up in his head. He began to feel extremely woozy, almost falling into the seat. As he sat, his head almost resembled a Vault-Tec bobblehead in the way it slowly swayed back and forth. Shortly thereafter, he started to fade out -- not into black or white, but... Pink.

*le time skip*

Deadly awoke with a jolt, one so powerful and so forceful that it could've sent a phone booth into orbit. Little did he know that soon afterwards, that phone booth would travel backwards through time and find itself on a collision course with the International Space Station, but that's neither here nor there (Sputnik was laughing his shiny little ass off when he heard). He was abruptly overtaken by the uncontrollable urge to sneeze, and sneeze he did. He was knocked back into his chair, almost forcing it to fall backwards. Cue mini heart attack, accompanied by an epileptic seizure. He swiftly made the dumb mistake of moving his body forwards, thereby tipping him the rest of the way over. What a dumbass. Anyway...

He tried desperately to recalibrate himself, but it was a fruitless effort as he ended up confusing himself even more. A moment of writhing around in a corner passed, and he finally sat himself upright. He felt the blood rush from his head, causing vision to become very dim for a short time.

Upon recovery, he felt a presence in the room, as if there was someone else there with him. Deadly's eyes scanned the room in a panoramic fashion, and promptly landed on... something. Something which had been thrown against the wall and had slid down, as evidenced by the yellowish-green streaks leading to another yellowish-greenish-pinkish mass lying on the floor. A look of both intrigue and disgust swirled its way onto his face as he slowly approached the glob of whatever it may have been.

He reached out to poke the Ditto-like thing, but drew his hand back just as it began to move. 'Oh god it's moving, oh dear lord,' he thought, and before he knew it, the pink thing had teleported to right in front of his face. Its eyes a brilliant sky blue and the size of small dinner plates seemed to peer directly into his soul as it began to speak at barely comprehensible speeds.

"Hi I'm Pinkie Pie I've never met you before who are you what are you I love making new friends anyway you're pretty tall where am I what's this goop all over me it's so sticky like chocolate syrup oh my gosh is it chocolate syrup no I don't think it's chocolate syrup because chocolate syrup isn't green but it could still taste like it though... okay that doesn't taste like chocolate syrup where am I what's that what's this what's those what's these what's them what's they," it began to giggle hysterically as it appeared to materialize in random places about the room.

Deadly tried desperately to process this debacle, but failed epically as he found that he could not even force himself to think about anything at all. His brain simply said "Fuck that shit, I'm outta here," and shut itself down. He stared at the creature which was now standing at a height that reached the midpoint of his thigh at the top of its head... thing.

"Uh," He planned his next moves very carefully, "... Hi?" Deadly's brain, whom we'll call 'Brain' for lack of a better name, decided that early retirement was no longer an option due to the economy and rebooted, only to facepalm at the mess he had left behind.

"Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! What's your name?" It- I mean 'she' babbled, completely oblivious to the abnormal surroundings.

"I'm uh..." Deadly was still fairly shaken from the situation. His attempts to recall this elusive 'name' was interrupted.

"Did you forget your name? You're silly! I know, we can make one up for you! How about..." Pinkie examined his t-shirt, featuring a skull with 'GNR' written across the forehead. The words 'Guns N' Roses' were written in the place of the mandible, all plastered across the dark blend of cotton and other such nonsense. "Rosie! Because it's on your thing there!" she jabbed his chest with her hoof. A thin trail of snot was left behind as she moved her hoof back to the floor.

Deadly recovered slightly, managing to recall some form of identification, "My name's Mike, but whatever," So that's his name... He shrugged, suddenly feeling like there was no way to rid himself of his new title.

"You know, this is pretty gross," Pinkie finally noticed that she was almost completely covered in nasal fluids. "Do you have a shower or something?" She took on a more serious tone, much to the human's relief.

"Yeah, it's through there..." He trailed off as he motioned towards the door on the opposite side of the room. The technicolor being began bouncing blissfully in the direction of the aperture.

"Okie-dokie-loki-Rosie!" and with that, she was gone, leaving quadruplets of sticky hoof prints behind her. Mike ran his hands through his hair, sweeping the length behind his ears, and sighed.

"What the fuck was that?" he whispered to himself, but his discourse was met with nothing but a running shower as a response.

Listening closely, he could just barely make out what sounded like singing. "... It's true some days are dark and lonely~..."

"Yeah, no shit," Mike's voice was lower than normal, only to make sure that only he heard himself. He made his way back over to his overturned chair. Setting it upright once more, he fell back into it, rapidly feeling particularly drowsy. He decided to simply power through the remainder of the day despite his lack of energy. After all, he was fairly used to being tired.

A short time later, the noise from the bathroom ceased and a vibrant pink equine emerged, sans snot. Still soaked to the bone, she bounced over to the lounging biped and hopped into his lap as he was just about to nod off. His eyes shot open and were met with blindingly bright colors and the scent of Old Spice. POWAAAAA- Haha, no. "Hey! Me again!" she extended a cheerful greeting.

Mike/Deadly/Rosie took a second to react, mostly because he didn't know how. "'Sup?" he returned the gesture.

"The sky!" What followed was what became known as the most epic facepalm in the history of humanity. It was so epic, Mike's hand went through his face, out the back of his skull, and smacked a framed Chinese silk painting off the wall. Not really.

He smiled, despite the fact that Pinkie had uttered the most horrific joke known to anyone or anything, "Yeah, that's real funny," he picked up his controller with the intent of continuing his game, but quickly remembered, "I still need new batteries," he began to stand, but the pony stopped him.

"Oh, I already put new ones in," she told him, beaming. Again, Mike was extensively puzzled by her antics. How could she have known how batteries work, let alone where they go? "I was just guessing!" Pinkie seemed to be reading his mind at that point, and if she were indeed, he would not be surprised.

As if to test whether or not she was joking, the human pressed down on the center button for a few seconds. To his amazement, the green LEDs lit up and began to flash. He pressed it once more, and the menu appeared on screen. Glancing up at the corner, Mike saw that the battery symbol had all four bars; a full charge. "Well, how 'bout that,"

"See, I told you!"

"When did you do this, exactly?"

"While you were about to fall asleep! You closed your eyes and I hopped out of the shower real quick and changed the batteries!" Now baffled to the fullest extent, Mike gave her a look which resembled the Jackie Chan meme. Pinkie giggled, "You look like that Jackie Chan meme!"

Terrified. It was the only word to accurately describe the human's reaction. If Pinkie knew what the Jackie Chan meme was, then there was a damn good chance that she was also familiar with Rule 34. It's only logical. "Pinkie," he began, "Do you know what Rule 34 is?" his voice was low and serious.

"I dunno what you're talking about!" Wait for it...

"Okay, good," Mike thought to himself, wow that was close. Pinkie thought for a moment and finally corrected herself.

"Ohhhh, you mean THAT rule! Haha, I know what Rule 34 is! You're a naughty tall-thingy, Rosie!" Oh God dammit. Mike sighed again.

"Fuck,"

"Yep, that's the one! You wanna try it?"

"What," No emotion.

"I said," Pinkie cleared her throat and took a giant breath, "DO YOU WANNA TRY RULE 34!?!?"

Flabbergasted, he was. Mike shrugged, "Ah, what the hell, I got nothin' to lose," and so that happened.

*Two and a half sexual escapades later*

Exhausted. Totally exhausted. The two lie in Mike's bed, staring at the ceiling. Both Mike and Pinkie fairly enjoyed the previous events, which they had both expressed to each other shortly after. The ceiling fan turned quietly, cooling the pair down as they recuperated. "Hey," Pinkie broke the silence, "you got a light?" she asked the human.

"Sure," he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a box of cigarettes, "here you go," he held the box out for her. She took one in her mouth.

"Fanks," she spoke around the filter between her lips. Mike pulled a lighter from the nightstand as well. *chk* He held the tiny flame up to the end of her cigarette, reducing the tip to ash. He pulled the last one from the box and tossed the empty container onto a pile of empty boxes of condoms. He lit up his own... *chk*... and took a breath.

"How many boxes of condoms did we go through?" Mike asked quietly, receiving a shrug as a response. He then attempted to count the days spent eloping with the pink party pony, but to no avail. "How long were we going for?"

"Umm..." Pinkie inhaled the cancerous fumes of the Marlboro, and exhaled them as she spoke, "A few days, at least," she giggled.

"Well, now I at least know that I missed a few days of work," Mike reached over and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan. 1234567890. He took a swig and passed the bottle to Pinkie, who gulped down a bit of the rum. She moved herself closer to the human and rested her head on his shoulder. They both turn their heads and look straight at you. "If you thought this was how the story was going to end, then you're dead wrong," he seems to stare directly into your soul at this point.

"Aww, I wanted it to be real," Pinkie whined. She positioned herself up onto Mike's torso, touching his nose with her own.

"Maybe next time," he gives her a smile and a kiss, then his gaze returns you, "As for you," he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a Glock with his free hand, "Remove thyself from mine eyesight... post haste!" He pulls the trigger. *POW!* The nine-millimeter round pierces your skull, causing you to drop lifelessly to the floor. A deathly silence briefly fills the room. "Now that that's over..." Mike replaces the firearm, puts out both their cigarettes, and sets the bottle of rum down beside the bed. He puts his arm around the pony as he rolls over onto his side, "... let's get some sleep, shall we?"

"Okie-dokie-loki," Pinkie said in between her yawning. She gives the human a deep kiss before closing her eyes and falling asleep in his arms. Mike followed her into dreamland shortly after.

*reality check*

"...DO YOU WANNA TRY RULE 34?!?!"

Flabbergasted, he was. "Uh, no thanks," Pinkie became somewhat cross with the human, but it was mostly exaggerated.

"Aww, you're no fun," she pouted.

The human simply returned to his virtual stomping grounds. "Sure, whatever," he mumbled. Beginning to feel bored, Pinkie looked around the room for something to do. She bounced cheerfully over to the closet and peered inside. She spotted something back in the corner, hanging out of a box and spilling onto the floor. She reached back and pulled the material out of its cardboard container. Upon inspection, Pinkie noticed that a plethora of small bubbles covered the entire sheet of plastic. She popped one, and then another, “Oh my good golly gosh, this is so fun!”

Mike took notice of the commotion and looked to see what was causing it. He spun his swivel chair around, “Pinkie, what the f-“ The pony cut him off as she leapt back into his lap with what appeared to be a large piece of bubble wrap.

“What’s this?” her query struck the human as somewhat odd. He began to wonder if bubble wrap existed in wherever the fuck she came from.

“That’s bubble wrap,” he said. Just before he was about to return to Big MT, he had a deadly premonition about what might happen to the world if Pinkie was allowed to play with bubble wrap. Countries would wage war, economies would collapse, the entirety of the world’s infrastructure would be sent flaming into the ground like a Fourth of July firecracker, and civilization would be incinerated in a rain of nuclear hellfire. As long as I have Fallout, I don’t give a shit. His reasoning was enough to convince him to let it go, but not before the severity of the situation made him stop in his tracks. *Pop pop pop pop pop…*

“… Shit.”

∞∞∞∞∞
Author's note: This was just an idea I came up with during a Skype call that went horribly wrong, and just to 'test the water' if you will; seeing how good of an author I'd make, etc. You know how it is.

Three chap- oh hell no, I'm outta here...

*A brief ride later…*

Our dynamic duo loudly, but slowly came to a stop in front of the United Bubble Wrap Emirates building. “Huh,” the human studied the architecture of the building, which strangely resembled the United States Treasury Building, “How ‘bout that, it really does exist,”

“Well, yeah! What, you didn’t believe me when I told you?” Pinkie piped up from behind the human.

“No, not really,” Mike shut off the engine and removed the key from the slot. He moved the kickstand back down into place before letting out yet another heavy sigh, “Alright, so how are we gonna do this?”

“Ok, here’s the plan,” Pinkie leaned in close to his ear, “Whisdiispwspisiwsssdsisipspsps,”

“Oh for fuck sake, just tell me,” the two shared a laugh, just like they had many times before.

“Alright, alright, here’s the real one: we’re gonna go in there and tell them to give up the bubble wrap,”

“And if they don’t?”

“We kill them,” she gave him a smile that at first glance would be bright and cheery, but in actuality was one of psychotic glee. She pulled her shotgun seemingly from nowhere and loaded a few shells into the tube, *chk-chk*, “Hehe, this is my boom-stick,”

Mike laughed again and hopped off the bike, Pinkie following closely behind. He felt around himself to check for the plethora of firearms that he couldn’t have possibly carried before. Sensing that everything was in its rightful place, he tightened his mask a bit, then dug around the various bits of ammunition in his pocket for the spare mask he carried with him. Eventually, he found it and playfully tossed it onto the equine’s head, “You might wanna put this on. It’s not like it’ll help keep your identity a secret, but it’s better than nothing,”

Pinkie quickly tied the mask around her face, identical to Mike’s own. She spoke in a slightly muffled voice, “Let’s do this, Rosie,”

“Kay,” was the human’s monotonous response. Pinkie bounced across the street and up the stairs to the large, gold-paned revolving doors. Upon arrival, Mike had the sudden feeling that his partner-in-crime was about to do something absolutely ri-goddamn-diculous with the door, and stopped a few yards short of the entrance. Just as he predicted, when Pinkie used the doors, they began spinning at astronomical rates comparable only to the speeds of the warp drive on the Millennium Falcon.

Shortly after causing a small twister in the street, Pinkie emerged wearing a clown mask which replaced the skull-mask that her BFF or whatever had given her, “This isn’t a Batman movie, you know,” he said, taking notice of the similarities of Pinkie’s newly-acquired mask and the masks that Joker’s goons had worn in the beginning of ‘The Dark Knight’, “Hey Bruce Nolan, we got a problem over here,” he playfully called out to no one.

“Hey! Batman Forever was the best Batman that there ever was! Now come on, let’s get that bubble wrap!”

“Fine,” The pair burst through the door; locked, loaded, and ready to party. Mike began to address the patrons, “Alright everyone, this is a robb-“

“ANY OF YOU FU- hey, there’s no one here,” Pinkie’s eyes scanned the room, skipping over the smokin’ hot receptionist who had an eyebrow raised at the two.

The receptionist raised her hand and fluffed her unreasonably curly black hair before addressing them in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “Ah you heah to see Dick Johnson?”

“Who the hell is Dick Johnson?” Mike lowered his assault rifle and let it hang even to his hip by the strap.

“Dick Johnson is the CEO of this company. Normally when someone busts in heah with a buncha’ guns it’s ‘cause they wanna see him,”

“Um, okay then. Where-“ Mike almost asked ‘Suzy’, as portrayed by the nametag pinned to her red silk top. The buttons holding it almost popped off, barely able to contain her massive bosom. Yeah, I went there.

Pinkie leapt onto the counter and thrust the ‘business end’ of her weapon into the nice lady’s face, whose eyes crossed as she stared down into the barrel of the shotgun. “WHERE’S DICK JOHNSON HIDING?!”

The equine was just about to begin interrogating Suzy ‘Pinkie Pie style’, but her cohort shooed her off of the desk “Let me do the talking,” Reluctantly, she hopped down, “Sorry about that,” Mike began speaking softly in a half-assed attempt at calming down the large-breasted woman, but he suddenly found it incredibly hard to maintain eye contact with her, “So yeah, where’s he hidin’?” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

Suzy, now much more at ease, disclosed the location of this mysterious ‘Dick Johnson’ to the young man, “Top floor, end of the hallway. Elevatah’s ovah theah,” she brightly smiled up at him and motioned towards the back of the room, pointing out two pairs of large steel doors.

“Thanks,” Mike gave her a grateful nod of his head, then called over to Pinkie, who was carefully inspecting a fichus in the corner, “Alright Pinks, let’s go,”

“Okie-doki-loki!” With that, her observation came to a close and she bounced joyfully over her companion, who waited by the elevatah. The button glowed as he pressed it, causing the pony to go into a trance-like state and stare at it with wonder.

A moment later, a distinct *ding!* was heard and the elevatah doors slid to the sides, revealing a luxurious, yet sparsely decorated interior. “Oh, by the way,” Mike looked back at the receptionist as Pinkie hopped into the lift. He paused for a second before continuing, “Nice tits,” he said with a grin.

Much to his surprise, Suzy took it as a compliment, “Aw, thank you sweetie!” she gave him a girly wave and smiled with flattery as he joined the pony in the lift. Once inside, he pressed another button, on which the number 69 was engraved. All was quiet for the beginning of the ride.

“That went exactly according to plan,” Brain broke the silence that had befallen him and his host shortly after they entered.

Totally.

“She really did have nice tits, though.”

Yup.

“I know what you’re gonna do when you’re thinking about ‘em later.”

Didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up in the last chapter?

“Well, you are.”

Do I need to go all Battlefield 3 on yo’ ass again?

“No, I don’t-“

I NEED A VEHICLE EXTRACTION SOMEONE GET ME SOME FUCKIN’ AMMO GET YOUR DICKS IN THE DIRT THEY GOT A MACHINE GUNNER I NEED A MEDIC I’M GETTIN’ LIT THE FUCK UP JESUS CHRIST GRENAAAAADE!... Suddenly, a chorus of virtual soldiers sounded off inside Mike’s surprisingly crowded skull.

“Alright, alright! Fuck, I can’t do nothin’ around here…”

No you fucking can’t.

“…loud enough in here as it is…” Brain mumbled, vainly hoping that Mike wouldn’t hear him.

FUCK YOU HERE COME THE FRAGS!

“Граната! Ложись!”

lol

“lol”

Growing ever bored with the wait, Pinkie began making small talk, “Hey, do you like Aerosmith?” she asked, her gaze meeting Mike’s.

“Yeah,”

“So you’ve heard ‘Love in an Elevator’, right?”

“Uh-huh,”

“And remember how I said that this was gonna be like The Matrix?”

“Yup,”

Brain, feeling the need to give Mike a warning as to what would happen next, directly violated his orders and spoke up, “Why are you so dumb?”

Fuck you mean?

“I MEAN, do you even know what’s about to happen?”

No, but I take it that you do?

“Yeah, in a few seconds, she’s gonna be on you like flies on shit and then you’re going to shoot the reader in the throat or something for having witnessed it, ya dig?”

I don’t have a shovel, so no.

“…WHAT THE F-… mmmh,” If the human brain could actually facepalm, this one would tear a hole the size of a continent in the space-time continuum. “Alright, how about we use memes to get the message across?”

Memes are amusing, or should I say… ‘amemesing’ HAHA- ok I’m done.

“Oh my fucking… Alright, pay close attention to what I’m about to say… Brace yourself, the steamy romance is coming. Now let that sink in.”

Mike mulled the words over for a bit before coming to a realization. Oh… OOOH, okay. I gotcha.

“God, it’s like talking to a god damn fencepost.”

I NEED A MEDIC I’M GETTING MY SHIT PUSHED IN HERE I’M PINNED I’M PINNED I N-

“For fuck sake, shut up!”

Hehe. The human closed the debate with himself and returned his undivided attention to Pinkie.

“So if this is supposed to be like The Matrix,” her weapons clunked against the floor as she dropped them, “theeeeeen that means I gotta do this,” she pounced on her prey. The pony knocked him into the wall behind him, and before you could say ‘holy twatwaffle’, her tongue had already explored every nook and cranny of the human’s mouth.

Mike was initially surprised, but quickly began to relax into the change of pace. However, he felt that something was amiss and pulled himself away from Pinkie, “Somethin’ ain’t right,” he said as he searched all around the lift until his eyes came to rest upon you. You there, standing in the corner, pleasurably watching this debacle take place. He looked back at his assailant, “Told ya,”

He takes a few steps towards you, unsheathing the guthook knife strapped to his belt as he does so. You quickly turn to leave, but are met with the solid steel doors of the elevatah car. Mike reaches around with his knife and drives it straight into your jugular, and what used to be your blood came cascading out from the gargantuan wound in your throat, giving some of the walls and floor a fresh coat of red paint. The dog tags you wore caught in the small hook on the end of the blade, and the chain snapped the very moment he yanked the knife out of your flesh.

Your lifeless body drops to the floor, spilling more blood out onto the tiles. The man scrutinizes the two aluminum pieces in his hand, “Let’s see here. Nemesis tag aaand… Attack Helicopter Mastery. Not bad,” he commended his victim as he drops the decorations into his pocket.

“See? I told you that this shit was gonna happen.”

Yeah, but you weren’t exactly right.

“Okay then, motherfucker. Enlighten me.”

Alright, so while you were right about Pinkie, were only half-right about the guy that I just killed.

“I said you would kill him, and that’s exactly what the fuck you did.”

No, you said I’d SHOOT him in the throat, so I STABBED him just to prove you wrong.

“…Fuck you.”

OH SHIT THAT’S A GRENADE

“Fuck. You.”

Mike turns to Pinkie once more, “Now, where were we?” the pony giggles as she enbraces him once more…

...I don't care how much you want that to happen, it's still not gonna happen.

“Look at that cocksucker with that machine gun!”
-US Marine, Battlefield 3

“…do you like cupcakes?” she asked, her gaze meeting Mike’s.

“Yeah,”

“Ohmygoshthat’ssocoolbecauseIusedtomakecupcakesallthetimebackinEquestriayouknowifwegothereI’llhavetomakeyousomeandthrowyourawelcometoPonyvillepartyandwe’llhavetonsoffun-”

“Hey look we’re here!” Mike pointed out the glowing red indicator above the elevatah buttons display the number 69. He shook his head, thinking that whoever designed this building had a very immature sense of humor, “Wow, really? Sixty-nine floors?”

Pinkie laughed out loud at the spectacle as the heavy steel doors slid open. A corridor was revealed; decorated with only the finest of luxury design. There were no doors on the sides, just a long, straight hallway with two oak double doors at the end. “Welp, let’s go!” the pony was about to begin her hopping, but Mike held out his arm and stopped her

“Hold up, we can’t just walk in there. We gotta make an entrance.”

Curious, Pinkie asked, “How are you gonna do that?”

Mike grinned wryly at her, “Don’t worry, I got this shit…”

Author's Note

Merry Christmas.

Also, I need to stop playing Battlefield 3 so much.

Alright, I'm back... Four chapters, ah ah ah!

What's this? It finally updated!? Holy fuckin' shit! Fuck!

***

“…Don’t worry, I got this shit,” Mike said, then began sprinting like a bat out of hell toward the pair of large, oak doors at the end of the hallway. As he neared them, he jumped into the air and leaned back with his feet out in front of him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he impacted the doors, however, they did not budge. Mike hung in the air for a moment, “Shit,” then fell on his ass.

“Doesn’t look like you got it,” Pinkie piped up from the other end of the corridor. She began bouncing towards the human on the floor.

“Shuddup,” he mumbled as he stood himself back upright. The pony motioned for him to take a few steps back. “You think you can get that open?” Mike chuckled.

Pinkie then produced a long, grey, tubular object seemingly from nowhere. “Yeah, watch!”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I dunno, is it?” She pulled the trigger and the device emitted a very distinct *thunk* noise.

Mike’s eyes widened. “You’re fucking-“ he was cut off by a loud *boom*. Ducking down, the human quickly covered his head with his arms. He lay on the floor for a second before quickly standing back up. Examining the sight before him, he could make out what used to be doors laying on the ground amongst some large chunks of wood and other shit used to build a wall. “Warn me the next time you pull some shit like that!”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Pinkie grinned deviously. She replaced the noob toob with the Thompson SMG she carried originally. “We doin’ this or what?”

Mike took his assault rifle back out of his jacket, the leather softly squeaking as he moved. “I guess so.” He walked through the doorway and into an immense room. To his right, the floor was elevated a bit, upon which sat a large wooden desk. Behind the desk sat a morbidly obese man with his back to them, masturbating furiously to lesbian porn. The headphones in his ears prevented him from hearing the blast.

Pinkie hopped up onto the desk behind the man. “ALRIGHT, HAND OVER THE BUBBLE WRAP BEFORE-“ She stopped and was suddenly hypnotized by the obscenities on the screen. Her eyes went wide and her jaw hung open at the sight.

Mike walked up behind her, befuddled at why she suddenly froze. He scanned the desk, looking over papers, pens, and a nameplate with ‘Thomas Eldridge Billingsworth III’ engraved in raised, gold lettering. His eyes finally came to rest on the laptop screen, shamelessly displaying high quality lesbian porn. The human raised his eyebrows at the sight and began to enjoy the video… discreetly, of course. The video seemed familiar to Mike, almost as though he had seen it before, then it hit him; he had downloaded this video to his hard drive one lonely night a few months back.

“Hey, I remember this one.” Brain decided to break his ongoing silence.

Yup… Pretty god damn hot.

The human realized just how distracted he was and pulled his Kalashnikov out of his jacket. He aimed it at the monitor and pulled the trigger, sending a 7.62×39mm through the virtual porn star’s chest. The fat man at the desk jumped and moved quickly to hide himself. He stammered a bit, “Uhhh- I uhh-…” Pinkie giggled at his struggling.

“I bet the last time he moved that fast was when he saw a Costco employee giving away free samples.”

That’s pretty fucked up, dude…

“But it was funny, huh?”

Yeah.

Thomas' face was flushed as he addressed Mike and Pinkie, “Uh, w-what can I help you with, my good man… what in the fuck is that?” He looked dubiously at Pinkie. His voice was that of a classy, rich man. Apparently, he also wasn’t afraid to swear when he saw fit.

“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?” She bounced happily about on the desk between the two humans, not even realizing that there was a nameplate right by her hooves.

Thomas was too shocked to acknowledge her question, and instead stared dumbly at her as she hopped around before him. Mike answered in his place, “His name’s Thomas Billingsworth.”

Pinkie gasped loudly and froze in midair. “How do you know that’s his name?! Are you a psychic oh my gosh that’s so cool I have a psychic friend eeeek!” She squealed with joy at the prospect of having a friend with such talents. As much as he didn’t want to, he had to burst her bubble (wrap).

“It’s on his name thing. Right there,” Mike pointed to the nameplate resting on the dark oak surface of the desk.

“…Ooooohhhh.” Pinkie thought for a moment about what they were even in this dude’s office for, then their quest for bubble wrap suddenly came back to her. She grabbed the man by his tie and jammed her gun into his face. “ALRIGHT, ENOUGH FOALING AROUND! WHERE’S THE BUBBLE WRAP?!”

Thomas began laughing. “Oh… Silly pony-thing! You don’t take the bubble wrap, the bubble wrap takes you!” As soon as he said that, four tendrils made of bubble wrap shot out from nowhere and wrapped around the pony’s legs, effectively hog-tying her. They dragged her up to the ceiling and hung her there. She was upside down as she swayed back and forth, slowly turning around and around as she did.

“Heeeyy, what’s the big idea?!” She yelled down to them. Before Thomas could answer, Mike stuck the business end of his assault rifle in the fat man’s face, ready and eagerly waiting to pull the trigger. Pinkie noticed what he was doing and quickly formulated a plan in her head. “Wait!”

Mike was surprised, “What the hell for?! He fuckin’ hog-tied you!”

“But I have an idea!”

“Well, what is it?”

She gave the two a menacing grin, “Suddenly, an oven!”

“What the fu-“ Mike was about to reprimand her for interrupting his previous actions, but then an oven came crashing through the ceiling like a fucking meteor and landed right onto the head of Thomas whatever-the-hell . Mike could no longer fathom what was going on around him.

Misfit Actual, I need a SITREP, do you copy, over? He received static in response. Shit.

A dozen men in suits and earpieces burst through another set of oak doors on the far side of the office. “Mister Billingsworth?!” they seemed concerned as they observed the scene before them: a pink pony suspended from the ceiling with bubble wrap, a man holding an AK-47, and a pair of short, stubby legs sticking out from underneath an oven which appeared to fall through the roof – as noted by the giant fucking hole above it and the shards of drywall scattered about the vicinity. “What happened here?!” the same suited man demanded.

Mike assumed that they were some sort of security force, “A whole lotta nothin’.” he answered, much to their dissatisfaction. Pinkie silently appeared behind the group of rent-a-cops after wrestling herself free of the restraints. He raised his weapon, eager to fire at the band of sentries. Pinkie violently shook her head, signaling him not to fire. He wanted to object, but that would mean he would have to let his guard down and confront his pink friend on the matter, which is exactly what the suits wanted.

Pinkie held up a large sign on a stick which read ‘No matter what, don’t shoot!’ Mike stayed still, save for his eyes which moved slightly to the side to read the sign without letting the feds know. He quietly sighed and let Pinkie do whatever the fuck she was going to do.

Without warning, the guards rushed him. His instincts told him to unload on his assailants, but when it came to Pinkie, it was better to simply accept things without question. So, there he stood, twelve guards running at him at full speed, pistols drawn. Pinkie finally set her plan into motion, “Suddenly, ovens!” she motioned for Mike to rendezvous with her in the doorway from which the guards emerged. He started off at a full sprint towards her, but suddenly skidded to a halt as the fed nearest him was suddenly crushed by an oven similar in appearance to the one that crushed Thomas III.

“Holy shit!” He began running again, much slower this time so as to avoid being flattened by falling kitchen appliances. Two more guards in front of him were crushed, one right after the other. “Fuck!” he quickly slung the rifle over his shoulder and covered his head with his arms as he continued making his way towards the pony, “FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!” he shouted as ovens came crashing through the ceiling and clobbering the would-be security force.

A short, yet extremely hazardous trip later, he was by Pinkie’s side once more as she admired her handiwork: A dozen security guards and one fat dude, all crushed by ovens. A bit of blood from each guard leaked out from underneath the appliances and pooled in the central part of the room. Mike stood, completely awestruck at what he had just experienced. “Um… what the fuck was that?” he finally mustered up the will to say something.

“I would explain it, but I don’t want to give you a headache. I think your brain has been through enough in the last five minutes.”

“You’re god damn right!”

“Well, uh…” Mike slowly took in the sight before him, “Thanks, I guess.”

Pinkie leapt onto his back and draped her hooves over his shoulder. She gave him a loving kiss on the cheek, “You’re welcome!”

“I swear to god if you do this shit again I will never let you call me Misfit Actual again.”

Shut up, you’re just jealous that you don’t know what love feels like.

Brain sniffled a bit, “F-fuck you, man!”

Fuckin’ pansy.

Pinkie leaned in for another kiss, but Mike unwittingly cut her off, “Well, where’s the fuckin’ bubble wrap?” She slid down off of Mike and stood next to him. She decided that she would skip the arbitrary romance for now. The human turned around and looked into the doorway from which the shitty guards came. Feeling suddenly curious, he walked through the doors, Pinkie following closely behind.

They found themselves in… a fucking Mattress Warehouse? Wait, what? Mike, now utterly perplexed, furrowed his brow. The store seemed relatively normal, save for the fact that it was completely devoid of life and in the middle of a fucking skyscraper, hinted at by the windows that reached from the floor to the ceiling and stretched from one wall to the other. Mattresses of all brands and sizes still lined the walls, the lights were still on, and the lounge music droned softly over the store’s speaker system. Typical mattress store, right? Wrong. There was not a human soul in sight… except for one.

You.

You slowly peruse the mattresses that made up the store’s inventory, unaware of Mike and Pinkie’s presence. “Hey!” Mike calls over to you. Startled, you jump a bit and immediately search for the source of the outburst. You finally come across the duo standing at the far side of the store. “You really need to stay the fuck outta the story, reader!” You scratched your head at his accusation, unsure of what he was even talking about. You go back to browsing the furniture.

The human and the party pony look at each other, one giving the other an understanding nod. Mike raises his weapon and aims it in your general direction. He pulls the trigger, sending a torrent of lead screaming through the air. You quickly look around to see the human walking slowly towards you, firing the entire magazine at you and everything behind you as well. You want to run, so you make an attempt to get away, but by then it’s already too late. Your body has already accepted the rounds from the rifle as welcomed guests in your torso.

You fall to the ground in a bloody heap. You begin making soft wheezing noises as blood begins to slowly fill your lungs, telling you that these are the last breaths you will ever take. Mike and Pinkie walk over to your dying body and look down at you. They both shared the same expression. Not amused. “Should’a stayed the fuck outta my story.”

Pinkie pulls out her sub machine gun and points it directly between your eyes. She slowly shakes her head, “When will you ever learn?” she asks no one in particular. You hear her words and for a split second, they echo throughout your mind endlessly. She pulls the trigger, sending a hot .45 caliber bullet straight through your head. It rips through your flesh and bulldozes through your skull and brain before bursting out the back and burying itself deep in the floor.

Pinkie hung her weapon back around her neck and regained her regular, bubbly composure. Mike simply let out a deep sigh. Why does this keep happening?

“So, where’s the bubble wrap?” the pony looked around expectantly.

The human shrugged. “I dunno.” He yanked the now empty magazine out of the well and reached into his jacket for a full one. Meanwhile, Pinkie weighed her options.

“Maybe it’s inside the mattresses!” She exclaimed as Mike put a full magazine into the gun and racked the bolt.

“Uh, maybe it’s not.” He said, slinging the rifle over his shoulder once more.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!” She happily reached for the tag on a nearby mattress, giving her friend a mild panic.

“Pinkie, no!” Mike stopped her. “Bad things happen when you tear the tags off mattresses, you know.”

Pinkie scoffed, “Yeah, right! What’s the worst that could happen?” she then ripped the tag off the mattress . *Kkssshhhhhhh!*

The human suddenly felt as though he were going to have a heart attack. They waited for something to happen, but nothing ever did. “See? I told you nothing bad would happen. You worry to much, Rosie! Hehe!”

Mike was mildly relieved. He took a deep breath, “Okay, fine. Just don’t do that shit again please.”

“Oh, alright!” Mike turned around to go somewhere, but stopped as soon as he heard more sounds of ripping paper and fabric. He turned around to see Pinkie standing in the middle of the floor with her hooves full of mattress tags.

“Oh, come the fuck on!”

“Nothing bad happened, I told you! Calm down, sheesh!”

Mike facepalmed. He looked around to see if there were any tags still left on their mattresses. He only found one… a motherfucking Sleep Number bed. Its tag was still intact. Pinkie beamed and bounced up to it, “I knew I missed one!”

“God dammit.” Mike deadpanned. He knew that he could do nothing to stop her from breaking the universe at this point, so he just stood and watched her as she ripped the paper right off the mattress. He sighed and accepted their fate. Nothing happened.

“Aw, that’s disappointing.” Pinkie pouted a bit. She slowly trotted over to Mike. If her sadness wasn’t obvious at this point, then Mike would be one dumb motherfucker. She stood up on her hind legs and hugged him tightly around the waist. He stroked her mane, trying to at least comfort her a little bit.

The wind outside picked up dramatically as the windows began rattling in their panes. Mike looked over at them and could see the glare of the lights dancing rapidly back and forth on the glass. Suddenly, the room began to violently shake and the lights began flashing. Moments later, the lights went completely out, some even falling and smashing onto the floor. Just as quickly as it started, the shaking ceased.

Bright pinkish-blue flashes began rapidly illuminating the room from outside. The flashes were not consistent, as they were similar to lightning strikes in how often they occurred. They grew more frequent by the second, however. A loud, mechanical whirring noise then began rumbling throughout the room, causing everything to shake once more, like an earthquake.

Pinkie clung to her friend, rightly scared out of her mind and not knowing what else to do. The faintly colored flashes turned to plain yellowish-white and began to sound more like explosions than lightning strikes. *Blam-blam-blam* Mike scooped Pinkie up in his arms, “We gotta go! We gotta go! Where do we go?!” he yelled over the deafening racket and looking around frantically for some sort of cover. He ran for the front desk with Pinkie still in his arms and firearms still slung over their shoulders, and dove over it. He pushed himself back underneath it and covered her with his arms and jacket as much as he could.

The machine-like whirring turned into a loud, metallic groaning; rising in pitch slowly. Then the windows finally gave in to the outside forces. First, the glass was strewn across the floor; some even landing behind the desk nearby Mike and Pinkie. Large chunks of dirt and other debris flew in afterwards, mixing itself up with the shards of glass. Enormous conflagrations of fire reached through the openings and scorched the ceiling and walls, blackening them with soot.

The constant shaking of the building eventually led to a large bookcase falling up against the desk, keeping the dynamic duo out of harm’s way. Other bits of furniture fell to the floor nearby, some hitting the supports in the room and knocking them loose. Fragments of the ceiling crumpled onto the bookshelf and plunged the two into complete darkness. Eventually, the flames receded and fizzled out on their own. A bit of rumbling and explosions could still be heard, albeit faintly.

Under the rubble they stayed until the only noise that remained was the ear-splitting silence. Pinkie stirred a bit, and with much fear and anxiety in her voice, she whispered to Mike.

“Are we dead?”

To be continued.

Author's Note

Yeah. Turns out, I'm not dead after all. Oh wait, yes I am! HA! Ha-haaa! Ha haa...

I bet you thought I'd never update this.

Fuck you.

Just kidding.

Anyway, the reason it took this god damn long to update is, well... Truthfully, I just didn't feel like writing. But then today happened and I wrote all this in the span of like 6 hours. Hopefully, the next chapter will be out soon. Maybe within the next few weeks, I dunno. I'm just thankful that you've stuck with me for this long :3

*is talking to the air*

foreveralone.jpg

Two chapters, ah ah ah!

*Like, a month after the author said he would put up this chapter…*

***

“… and that’s how I got here! Or at least, how I think I got here!” Pinkie Pie burst into yet another fit of bubbly laughter. It was one of the many fits she would have while in the human’s company. She began to calm down a bit when she realized that Mike was about to ask her another question.

“So let me get this straight…” Mike raised an eyebrow as he reached for his leather jacket hanging on the coat rack, “You and whoever-the-fuck Rainbow Dash is,” he slid his arms through the sleeves, “put some kind of sneezing powder in a bouquet of flowers, and then whoever the fuck Rarity is,” Mike crouched down to tie his boot laces, “snorted it up her nose,” the pony giggled again, “and then whoever-the-fuck Rainbow Dash is ran off and dropped the can and it got up in your face or something,” he took a breath “and then you sneezed and flew into another dimension…”

“Yep-a-roonie!”

“… I think I need to sit down,” he plopped down on the futon couch-bed-thing in the living room of his apartment.

“Hey!” Pinkie seemed cross with him as she hopped into his lap for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past seventy-two hours, “I thought we were gonna go get more bubble wrap!” She gave Mike her famous puppy-dog eyes has he began to make feeble attempts at wrapping his mind around the parameters of her existence.

Tell me what’s going on, Brain.

“asfhldg;dasdhgadf, man. Trust me.”

Well, shit.

Mike let out another sigh, “We are, don’t you worry,” he smiled and pet the fluffy-ass mane atop her head a few times. He stood up and stretched for no reason, “Maybe a dumb question, but how much do you want?” Why the fuck did I stretch?

Pinkie leapt into his arms and hooked her forelegs around the back of his neck. She whispered into his ear in a most menacing tone, “All of it,” and as if that wasn’t enough to make the human silently shit a brick, she laid her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes, much like a small child would do.

What in the name of fuck. “Well then, we’re gonna need a little bit more firepower than ‘Mister Doctor Professor Nine Millimeter the third, esquire’ here,” Mike softly patted the left part of his jacket, feeling the weapon sitting comfortably in its pocket on the inside.

Pinkie laughed at the prospect of a gun having such a silly name as she followed the human back into his room. He led her to the closet and opened it up. “Oooh, let’s see whatcha got here,” she browsed the small catalogue of weapons.
Much to the shock and awe of Mike, she named each to the letter, and he was suddenly overcome with affection for the colorful equine. He reached for his stockless AK-47 hanging by the strap from a shirt hanger and made sure to grab a few extra magazines, while Pinkie picked up the Mossberg 500 ‘Super-Shorty’ that stood up against the back corner.

“Uh… you sure you can handle that?” Mike warily asked the now shotgun-toting pwny. Yeah, you read that right. Shut up.

“Puh-lease, I keep an Uzi under the bed at my place,” She cocked the shotgun, *chk-chk*, “for home defense,” then beamed warmly up at him.

Suddenly, Brain interrupted the human’s thought process, “Misfit 1-1, this is Misfit Actual requesting a sitrep, how copy?”

Misfit Actual, this is Misfit 1-1, good copy. Unknown entity shows exceptional knowledge of weaponry and is fucking adorable, requesting permission to hug.

“Misfit 1-1, this Misfit Actual, I’m authorizing use of the Orbital Hug Cannon, fire at will, how copy?”

Good copy, Misfit Actual. Firing Orbital Hug Cannon… Damn, we play too much Battlefield 3, don't we?

Pinkie was then scooped up in a massive bear-hug faster than you could say ‘more drama for your momma’. In return for almost squeezing the life out of her, Pinkie almost squeezed the life out of Mike. It was so adorable that I almost had a stroke whilst writing this shit. But then, fuckin’ Katt Williams comes outta nowhere… nevermind. Now, where was I?

Ah, yes. The two eventually released their death grip on each other and continued their shenanigans. Mike spoke up finally, “Well, if you say you can handle the shotty, then you can use it, but where are you gonna keep your extra ammo?” he observed her figure with a scrutinizing eye, noting that she had no way of carrying any spare shells.

Pinkie dismissed him, “Hehe, don’t you worry about that, Rosie,” she winked at him with a devilish grin.

“I bet she keeps them in her ass like a drug mule. Hehe, mule…” Mike twitched at Brain’s remark.

Misfit Actual, this is Misfit 1-1. Shut the fuck up, how copy?

“Good copy, Misfit 1-1, shutting the fuck up, over.”

Damn right you are.

Mike blinked, and before his eyes, his four-legged friend pulled a cell phone out of nowhere and began tapping on the keys. Shortly thereafter, a message in a darkened gray box appeared in the air, accompanied by some sort of chirping noise. “Cheat codes,” she quipped, putting her phone away. She continued, “I gave us unlimited reloads, so now we’ll never run out of ammo!”

“Oh my god, Pinkie, I think I love you,” Mike’s unflinching monotone only made his remark more convincing. Damn shape-shifting aliens…

“Well, you better!” Pinkie materialized behind him with her hooves draped over his shoulders. In all honesty, the human was not even a little bit surprised that she would go and do such a thing, after the few days she was there. Pinkie placed her free hoof on his cheek, turning his head towards hers before locking lips with him. She held contact for several moments before tearing herself away and returning to her gun-fun or whatever.

Mike then produces a .44 Magnum from his belt and uses his thumb to pull back the hammer. He places the barrel directly in front of your forehead and you can practically feel the high-caliber round on your skin as he looks you dead in the eye, piercing your very soul. “Gotcha,” he pulls the trigger and sends the brass projectile ripping through your cranium, spraying a fresh coat of blood, brains and pieces of your skull onto the wall behind you. Capped yo’ ass.

He twirled the gun around on his finger and jammed it back into place between his belt and his jeans. “Wah waah waaahh,” his poor impression of Clint Eastwood’s timeless little tune was not lost to Pinkie, who admired the mess he made on the wall and floor surrounding your corpse.

“You sounded like Princess Celestia when she tricked Mister and Misses Cake into running her teacup over at a party once!” Giggle laugh giggle something something, you get the point.

“I know, right?”

Haha, no that totally didn’t happen.

***Fatality!***

“… So now we’ll never run out of ammo!”

“I guess that could uh… come in handy,” Mike suspiciously eyed the cell phone and his guns as Pinkie reached back into the closet and pulled out the Thompson submachine gun. As If on que, the resident of the apartment above the human began blasting some o’ that shitty dubstep from his absurdly powerful sound system.

“Watch, I’ll show ya,” Pwny Pie’s cheerful outburst seemed out of place in this situation, and as if she wanted to prove it to you, the reader, she lifted the firearm up and aimed it at the ceiling. The gun released a torrent of hot lead through the ceiling, obliterating the obnoxious toilet sounds and likely the possessor of those sounds as well, as hinted at by the dull moaning which followed the shots. “Now all you gotta do is pull the thingy back,” she pulled the bolt back, then released it, “and there ya go, you have a full mag again!”

“Um…” Mike desperately searched for the right words, “Cool?”

“Yeah, it’s cool! Now come on, let’s go get that bubble wrap!” Pinkie gleefully bounced out of the room, with the human following closely behind, only to make sure she didn’t kill anyone else without his consent. He thought about trying to conceal their weapons, but discarded the idea after he tried and failed miserably to decide whether or not there would be a point. The dynamic duo arrived at the elevators after a short walk down the sparsely decorated hall.

Upon arrival at the large metal doors, Mike pressed the little button on the wall. It lit up, and a dull humming noise could be heard from the elevator shaft. “So, where do you plan on getting the entire world’s supply of bubble wrap from?” He looked down at Pinkie, who appeared to be deep in thought about her answer.

“Well duh, the Headquarters of the United Bubble Wrap Emirates, of course. It’s across town,”

“How do you even- you know what, I don’t even care anymore,” Mike sighed and placed his hands over his face in a ‘double-facepalm’ style. The pony had beaten him, even though it was merely a simple question that required a simple answer. For each of her antics and shenanigans, he tried desperately not to be surprised at their nature, but his efforts collapsed like the Twin Towers every time. No, the 9/11 reference was not too soon. It happened eleven years ago. Get over it, already.

*Ding* the doors slid to the side, revealing the interior of the elevator, which seemed to have missed spring cleaning, or the Mexican janitor completely forgot that the building even had an elevator. The duo stepped in and rode slowly down to the lobby. “This is like that scene from The Matrix when Neo and Trinity went into that lobby place and shot everyone except we’re not gonna shoot anyone here, we’re gonna shoot people at the bubble wrap place!”

“Yeah, let’s go with that,” Mike said as the large, metallic doors opened, revealing a very high-class lobby. Sleek leather furniture, mood lighting, dark oak counters, and a fancy-ass chandelier could all be found working harmoniously together to make anyone in the room feel like a corporate executive. “Hold the fuck up a second, this isn’t the lobby,”

“Yeah it is! I knew you didn’t like the old, cruddy one so I did a bit of renovating!” Pinkie bounced forth through the lobby, ignoring the few people there that were staring at her.

Mike took notice of their prying eyes and decided to defuse the situation as best he could,”Don’t look at the bouncy thing,” One of the patrons was about to speak up, but Mike swiftly cut the man off, “Just don’t,” he spoke demandingly. Oh, he shut up alright, mostly because he saw the guns that he and Pinkie were carrying. He raised his hands in the air, as if he were surrendering to someone and quickly sat his big ass down.

“Hurry up! We’re not gonna get any bubble wrap at this rate!” The pony stood holding the door open, waiting for the human to catch up. Mike shot a frightening look at the asshole that stared at Pinkie, which reinforced his demands. He noticed the man squirm a bit in his seat, telling him that he did what he intended to do, and then some. He made his way across the lobby and caught up to Pinkie. The pair took a few steps out into the parking lot and stopped

Pinkie broke the silence between them, “Where’s your car?” Before she knew it, Mike had already hopped onto his sexy-ass Harley-Davidson and slid the key into the ignition.

“I don’t have a car,” he called over to her. The machine roared to life and scared away a few birds perched on the light pole above him.

Pinkie gasped at the spectacle, “Nice bike,” she cooed, inspecting the bright green lightning paintjob which contrasted with the pearlescent black base.

“I know, right?” Mike scooted forward a bit to make room for the equine. The pony in question leapt onto the space behind him without so much as a second thought and gripped the back of the human’s jacket in her hooves.

He revved the engine a few times and put the kickstand up, balancing the half-ton machine with just his legs. “Hi-ho Rosie! Away!” Pinkie thrust the tommy gun into the air as she called out into the cool dusk air.

Mike smiled and shook his head as he pulled his mask up over the lower half of his face, making it look like a skeleton. He thought to himself, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, and with that, the dynamic duo took off, thundering down the street in the dead of night.

Author's Note

Sorry about the super-fucking-long wait. Apparently, I can't plan ahead properly. It almost killed me, but I managed to get the second chapter up. I have yet to start on 'Three chapters, ah ah ah!', so wish me luck.

*later*

*opens up Word*

Alright, this is ri-goddamn-diculous... *type type type*