Adventures of a Man turned Beastly

Take most of this fic with a grain of salt and a healthy dose of common sense, you'll feel less inclined to beat your head on the wall in frustration or irritation. It's not quite a crackfic but some weird shenanigans can and will happen, hence this note. ALSO, PLEASE NOTE THAT ANY CROSSOVER ELEMENTS ARE NOT 100% CANON.

Mandatory Disclaimer: I do not own MLP, the rights belong to Hasbro. I do not claim the ideas or properties in said franchise, either.

Notes: Thoughts will appear like so: /I like pie./ Thought communication, when it appears, will be like this: /Your pie is MINE!/

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Time:8:45 P.M.

Date: 10/31/20??

Location: French Village, Missouri

A young man with pale skin and slightly ruffled, medium-short brown hair is sitting in the lowest branches of a tall cedar tree. He is garbed in the traditional white T-shirt and blue jeans that most people his age wear. His feet are covered in a simple pair of scuffed black boots, his white t-shirt is covered with a blue winter vest, stuffed with goose down, and upon his head is a camouflage ball cap.

… You know what, screw that, I'm telling the story here, and that sounds boring as hell when you put it that way. Also, why the hell do I keep forgetting my own glasses? Sure, I hate them, but when the alternative is wearing rubbery, plasticky things in your eyes (shudder) or being legally blind to the point where everything a foot away or more is a colorful blur, you deal with it.

“Anyway, enough of the self-narrating, I want a sandwich.” Hopping down from the tree to the ground not 10 feet below, I start the several-mile trek up the old path out of the woods to the home I've lived in for the last 5 years, without any family or friends for dozens of miles.

I'd moved here not for the fresh breezes, or the clean air, but for the solitude I craved ever since I turned 17 and realized I wouldn't get much further in life with the situation I was in, and to top it all off, there was an accident with a few power tools, my father, and a few unlucky people at the workplace. My father officially disowned me, after some cheap whiskey of course. What that entails can be summed up in a single sentence: “Pack up, shut up, here'sh a coupla thousand bucks, now git da fuck outta my housh.” Worst part was, getting kicked out by my own father was perfectly legal, even though he was drunk.

Long story short, I ended up punching my own father in the face and taking the well-worn, unpainted 1986 Pontiac Fiero that I had been maintaining for a while. I had no home to go back to, and all I had was the money in my wallet, the car I was riding in, and whatever I had with me at the time. I ended up working at the Burger King about half an hour's drive away from my new home, and I've been living almost paycheck to paycheck ever since, saying to myself, “It always gets worse before it gets better.”

But I digress. Before I get any more long-winded, I'd like to get some facts straight before I go on:

One, I hate being called stupid, or a genius. Most people would like being called a genius, but I know for a fact I just use common sense more than others and read a lot. Trust me, if anyone's a genius, it's not me.

Two, I like video games, and most things that have to do with video games. Now, I know for a fact what you're thinking, “who doesn't like video games?” Two words: my father. See my point?

Three, I am a furry, I've been that way since I was fifteen, and I don't give a damn about what others think about furries.

Four, life's a bitch, and I was about to find that out... again.

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Walking up the path behind my house, I take a moment to admire it in its simplicity. One floor, white exterior, and a small mud room extending from the left side for rainy or snowy days, containing the wood-burning furnace keeping the house warm. Coming up the slope to the back door, I keyed the lock and walked in...

Only to see a lone man in a stereotypical ski mask attempting to make a 'sneaky' escape out of the front window, carrying a bag that was probably full of the more expensive things in the house.

Taking another step into view, I shout, “Hey you! Drop my stuff, you asshole!”

He whips around toward me with a curse, following up with a loud bang. Only then do I notice the gun in his hand, and right after that I feel the pain in the left side of my chest where the bullet has gone in.

/That sonofabitch.../  I fall to my knees in agony, feeling weaker than I have in my entire life.

The burglar/murderer climbs back through the window and grabs the back of my vest, dragging my coughing, wheezing body through the front door.  He props me up against one of the walnut trees in the front yard, facing the house. In the next minute or so, he's had time to dig through my pockets, pulling out my wallet, my keys, pretty much anything of value. He strides quickly around the side of the house, to where the small mudroom is attached, and comes back with a 5-gallon can of gasoline. /My emergency gas!/

The bastard has the nerve to grin at me before soaking the front door of the house with the gas. He then opens the door and from what I can see, he's soaking the carpet in every room. In the 3 minutes I was sitting there, he has time to get every room and grab more of my stuff. He then jauntily walks back out, his grin more maniacal, before walking up to me and setting his ill-gotten gains down.

He only says one thing,  with that insufferable grin plastered on his face. “Anything to say before your life goes up in flames?” His voice is deep, almost annoyingly so.

I take as deep a breath as I can, and cough out, “Fuck. You. Bastard.”

His grin morphs into a grotesque snarl, and he backhands me across the face, cracking my skull against the tree. Lighting a match, he waves it under my nose, searing my nostrils and making me cough up more blood from my ruined lung, then flicks it nonchalantly onto the carpet in the front room. It ignites like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. My murderer then picks up the bag and walks out of sight. Even if I'd been able to ask, he'd never have answered the questions circling my mind like fish in a toilet bowl. I doubt I'd have gotten an answer anyway, but I want to ask, regardless....

/Why would he do this? What did this accomplish? I can always chalk it up to a simple burglary turned vindictive through opportunity, but I'll never know for sure now.../

Even as these questions continue racing throughout my mind, I hear a twig snap, and I weakly look up to see a strange figure strolling out of the dark from the opposite direction my murderer had walked off to. From where I slump against the tree, I could see that their limbs were oddly mismatched, as if they'd gotten some sort of transplant that wasn't exactly symmetrical. Another quick glance at them, and I have to do a double take in the form of a slow blink.

For there, walking out of the woods near my burning house, towards where I sat bleeding out and coughing, was the strangest-looking creature I'd ever seen. It reminds me of a creature that I'd seen in a show that I'd only recently started to watch... what was it.... argh, what was it called?.... My Little Pony? Yeah, that's it. Its name was Discord, the self-proclaimed God of Chaos. /Isn't he supposed to be locked in stone, and more importantly, fictional?/

“Tsk, tsk, young man. Don't you know it's rude to stare, as well as calling a sentient being 'it'? I can help you out of this situation, but in return... well, let's just say that I need you to do something for me.”

/It's not like I can answer, what with the hole in my chest and a punctured, blood-filled lung. Obviously./

Waving his talon hand nonchalantly, Discord interrupts my thoughts. “No need for sarcasm... Jack, was it? I'm doing you a favor here. To be blunt, I get your soul out of here, warp you to where I come from, and you just, what was the word, 'hang out'? Yes, 'hang out' there. If you want to go, then all I need is a nod on your part. If not, well....” he breaks off, reclining into the air, somehow, and waiting on an answer. I hear my car explode in the background. /Damnit, there goes my safe driver discount./

I'm slowly losing consciousness, but I get what he is saying. With what little strength I have, I lean my head back against the tree, then let it slump forward in a nod. Rubbing his talon and paw hands together in glee, Discord chuckles evilly. Waving his talon over his head, a peaked airline captain's cap appears on his head in a puff of smoke, between his horns, and with a flick of the opposite wrist a microphone similarly appears in his paw.

“Welcome to Discord Interdimensional, we hope you enjoy your trip!” Just as everything was going dark and the sound of crackling flames fading to a buzz, Discord snaps his talons and everything instantly plunges into darkness.