The Survivor

Pain from the stump has been bad excruciating from time to time. But I think the deep-seated itch as the healing process begins has been worse. I've been thinking this afternoon of the horrible, unscratchable itch of mending flesh. If anypony came to me before complaining of this, I would smile and tell them they would feel better tomorrow, privately thinking what whiners they were, what jellyfish, what ungrateful babies. Now I understand. Several times I've come close to ripping the shirt bandage off the stump and scratching at it, digging my hooves into the soft raw flesh, pulling out the rough stitches, letting the blood gout onto the sand, anything, anything, to be rid of that maddening horrible itch.

At those times I count backward from one hundred. doesn't really work so well. And snort heroin.

I have no idea how much I've taken into my system, but I do know I've been "stoned" (Is that what they call it?) almost continually since the operation. It depresses hunger, you know. Well, I know now. I'm hardly aware of being hungry at all. There is a faint, faraway gnawing in my belly, and that's all. It could easily be ignored. I can't do that, though. Heroin has no measurable caloric value. I've been testing myself, crawling from place to place, measuring my energy. It's ebbing.

Dear sweet Celestia, I hope not, but ... another operation may be necessary.

More ponies flew over the island. Too high to do me any good. I laughed and waved. Waved? What the fuck Twilight? Now here you are, crippled, hungry, savage, survivor. Im still alive right? Doesn't matter.

Getting too dark to see now. Food. I've been thinking about all kinds of food. Some Ponyville lasagna. Garlic bread. Gourmet salads. sndwics. Peach melba. London broil. The huge slice of pound cake and the scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream they give you for dessert in Sugarcube corner. Hot pretzels baked potatos baked Alaska baked pineapple tings. Onion. Onion dip with potato chips cold iced tea in long long sips french fries make you smack your lips.

100, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 89, 63, 74, 21, 40. Tag!

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!