The Mental Maunderings of a Mad Man

Chapters

One shot? I lied - 4th Hour Men's PE
5th Hour - AKA Lunch
6th hour - Carpentry
7th hour U.S. History
8th Hour - Study hall
School's Over - The Story Isn't : Or - Hour Zero - Detention Part 1
Zero Hour - Part Two - The Mall
Home At Last? Part 1
Home At Last? Part 2
Equestria - Day One
3rd hour Algebra 2
1st hour English 3 Honors- The Class That Started It All Part 1

One shot? I lied - 4th Hour Men's PE

Whoever designed and created school bells must have a harpy, quite literally, for a wife as I assume the ear-splitting, migraine inducing sound that emanates from those humble mesh squares in the wall must be recorded by such a being. My joyous whistling is drowned out by the buzzing of the fourth hour bell and I shamble past the first people spewing forth from the various doors lining the hall and direct myself towards the office once more.

“I’m back.” I note casually to the secretaries as I enter. They stare at me blankly and one smacks her lips as she repositions the stick of Wrigley’s in her mouth. “Just thought you should know.” I grumble and turn away out of the cramped office and into a herd of freshmen rushing forwards to their next class. “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” I encourage them, smacking a few on the rear as they stream past, “The tardy bell tolls in just a few moments and if you’re late you get locked out!” I chuckle sadistically as the new students redouble their efforts to enter class on time and I smile as schadenfreude seeps into my veins and soothes my seared nerves.

All thoughts of my recent and ever so curious encounter with the galactic goddess or whatever she claimed to be fade away as I stalk through the halls and make for the gym. Only the oddly heavy metal hanging loosely from my neck keeps the memory alive as it slaps hard against my cool flesh with every step of my uneven gait. I sigh and finger the suddenly warm trinket as I turn into the locker rooms. My focus shifts once more and I abandon inspecting the alien amulet.

‘Better just to not even think about the things I can’t explain.’ I mutter below my breathe to myself as I open my locker and strip down.Slip a scratchy ‘Property of’ t shirt over my head and pull a pair of tight basketball style shorts up to my waist ignoring the worried cries of underclassmen as they’re pushed and shoved, or depants and mocked, or whipped with sweaty shirts and tossed fully clothed into a cold shower. I ignore them because any attempt at intervention is doomed to fail, I took more than my fair share of hazing, if you can call it that, when I was new here, they can deal with it for a while longer and come out just fine. I did.

I move quickly to the gym and watch as the stragglers are screamed at and ushered in by our bear of a coach, Shaw.

“DOUBLE TIME! DOUBLE TIME!” he screeches, blowing hard into his humorously small whistle after each command. “You ladies’ll be out runnin’ laps again today since some of you couldn’t be bothered to finish your lifts on Friday!” he explains the drill for today as the young men surrounding me groan in distaste and disgust. “What’s that?” Shaw questions with a deviant smile, “You ladies wanna do sprint laps instead?” Everyone begs not to do any such thing, “Well OK then, since YOU all insist!” Shaw claps his meaty hands together and spits into a nearby waste bin, he misses but fails to care, “LET”S GO!”

I jog slowly out to the track with the dozen or so other men around me, Shaw takes the opportunity to ensure that the school golf cart is fully operational and can bare loads in excess of three hundred pounds.

A faint shimmer of light, or more accurately a faint shimmer lacking light if such a thing were possible, catches my sight of to the edge of the practice field in-between the bus barn, the equipment shed, and the smoker’s alley. I shift my eyes until Shaw’s in my line of sight and plan my escape. At the perfect moment Shaw becomes preoccupied by a freshman’s “phony” asthma attack and I dash away from the ignorant men on this imbecilic march.

My detour takes me right into the alley called smoker’s paradise and the stench of hocked and stolen Marlboro’s fills my lungs. I wheeze for a brief second and gasp for breath.

“And I don’t even smoke…” I ponder the worn state of my lungs aloud.

“Really?” A soft, heavily accented voice calls out to me, “So you wouldn’t happen to have a light on you?” I look to my right and through the smoky mist that perpetually hangs here and burns my corneas I am greeted with what I’ll chalk up to the second strangest sight of the day. “So about that light?” A light blue pegas- Alicorn repeats.

“Yeah,” I stutter and grab a stray disposable lighter laid carelessly on the windowsill next to me, “Here you go miss…?” I light the blue Alicorn’s long, fancy cigarette and stare at her uncertainly.

“Sis always told me how bad smoking is for me,” she gripes after a long drag on the biri, “She always pesters me about how unhealthy it is and how unbecoming for a princess it can be,” she purses her lips and blows slowly exhaling a neat circle of smoke. As I watch the smoke ring shifts into a caricature of the goddess I’d seen only a quarter of an hour earlier. “Such a hypocrite,” she carries on and I simply listen out of sheer, morbid curiosity, “She barks at me for enjoying a fine cigarette every now and again but if I ever even dare to mention her stash of “Medicinal” alcohol, or her dozens of “escorts”, or even all the cake she throws a royal, excuse the pun, tantrum and sulks for days. Ugh!” The princess’s sister, who I can only assume to also be royalty, looks at me expectantly.

“Absolutly.” I agree and nod stupidly.

“At least somepony, sorry, someone understands me!” A mouthful of teeth so white that I suspect bleach had played a part in their coloring flash kindly at me and I return the sentiment. “Oh, but where are my manors?” She suddenly asks me. “I am Princess Luna, Goddess of the night and bringer of the Moon, you are?”“A pleasure to meet you Princess,” I bow slightly, “You can call me-”

“JUS WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU DOIN’ OVER THERE?!” Shaw screams at me.

“And who is that pleasant sounding fellow?” Luna asks inquisitively.

“That would be Shaw…” I mutter sourly and look over my shoulder at the approaching golf cart as it putters along. “And I’m about to get-” I look back to find no one near me, “In a load of trouble.” I finish lamely.

“WHY aren’t you running?” Shaw demands to know. “And WHY are you over here in smoker alley?”

“I wanted a toke before I ran your laps.” I deadpan and chuckle as Shaw’s chubby face turns two shades brighter red than usual.

“Boy you’d had better hightail it over to that track right now or else imam make you regret ever passin’ the eighth grade!” Shaw threatens.

“Just because you couldn’t manage it doesn’t mean I’ll be regretting it.” I reply with defiance.

“BOY,” Shaw speaks through clenched teeth as a vein in his brow appears and throbs dangerously, “You’d best be gettin’ over there. NOW!” I obey Shaw’s order and start jogging towards the track but my jog soon turns to a run and then a full on sprint as he bumps me with the front of the golf cart and follows as closely as he can without actually running me over.

As I tear across the field with an angry gym coach in a vehicle made to carry little old ladies around the greens a realization occurs to me. I look down at my chest and see not one but two trinkets on two chains, one golden and one blackened, bouncing with every step.

“Heh,” I laugh as Shaw speeds up forcing me to do so as well, “I guess I got a present from Luna too.” My laughter fades as I approach the asphalt of the track but my silent and unexpressed pleasure remains as the small, black moon medallion weighs down solidly and comfortably on my neck and chest right alongside its celestial companion as I run.

‘Can this day get any weirder?’ I wonder as Shaw rounds us up like cattle and has us head back inside.

“To be honest,” I mutter as we march back in doors, “Some weirdness would be a welcome change.”

5th Hour - AKA Lunch

“Ask and ye shall receive…” I mouth the words without ever actually speaking as a walk out the school doors and immediately encounter yet another Alicorn. Well, no, this one seems to be nothing more than a normal unicorn… I blink a few and question my sanity after that thought enters my mind.I stroll off of the school campus and cross the street without bothering to even glance either way as I go. A random car skids to a halt and allows my progress across the street to continue unimpeded. The violent swears and threats drifting through the air from the disgruntled driver fall upon deaf ears as I step over the curb and near my destination.

I slowly advance towards the unsuspecting unicorn; she’s preoccupied with gawking at her surroundings and doesn’t even notice me.

“Twilight Sparkle?” I guess, her description matches what Celestia said, vaguely but still.

“Oh,” my words shake her back to reality and she nods her head in my direction. “Yes, that would be me,” she sighs softly and turns to face me, “Princess Celestia has been here I assume.”

“Her and her sister both have.” I explain to her and hold up my necklaces as proof. “They gave me these before they left.”

“Hmm,” Twilight frowns, “I knew Celestia was here, mainly because I was the one who sent her here, but I didn’t know that Luna had been here too.”

“Yeah, I think she just came here to have a smoke in peace.” I reply.

“Oh,” Twilight ponders this bit of information and paws, hooves I guess, at the gravel beneath her. “So anyway I just wanted to see the world that I had created and sent Celest-”

“Created?” I interrupt her.

“Yes,” she nods vigorously to prove her point, “this world didn’t exist until the moment I sent Celestia here.” she adds a small ‘duh’ in as if this were knowledge I obviously should have known prior to today.

“Uh,” I raise my hands in confusion and try to sort out words, “Celestia came here not even two hours ago and I’ve been here for seventeen years, this country has been her for three hundred years, my people have existed for thousands of years, and this planet is millions and maybe even billions of years old!” I cry out in exasperation. “How can you claim to have created by accident only a few short hours ago?” I plead for an answer.

“Well,” she tilts her head curiously, “my math might have been off and in that case what you claim may be true.” She smiles suddenly as though she’s pleased with her logic. “So there is a possibility, albeit a very minor one, that this world is in fact as old as you believe it to be.” I stare at her in disbelief. “What?” she questions me with more than a little confusion mixed in her voice, “It’s just a possibility.”

“Still,” I sigh, “the knowledge that a purple unicorn with a star tattoo on her hips might have created the world I live in, well,” I laugh despite myself, “Can’t be any weirder than some of those crackpots “religions” that exist.”

“Such as?” she inquires politely.

“Devils, demons, various deities, hovering blobs of pasta, and chaos divas.” I wave the question off as I’d rather not delve into a theological conversation; the one I’m in currently is bewildering enough. “So…” I look at my feet and scratch my head absentmindedly.

“Would you like to go get some lunch?” Twilight offers.

“Sure,” I accept with a slight giggle, “why not.”

“Are there any good Chineighse restaurants around here? Twilight asks as we walk further from the school and into the student parking lot.

“Yeah,” I answer ignoring the odd pronunciation, “one of the best around.” We come to a small blue Chevrolet and I unlock the doors without ever looking away from the alien trotting alongside me, her shoulders only come to my waist and her head only to the bottom of my chest making her quite smaller in stature than either of the sibling royalty. “I’ll drive,” I tell her after helping her into the passenger seat, “Just sit still and try not to fall.” I instruct her as the engine purrs to life.

“What a fascinating carriage.” Twilight remarks as I pull away from the school and drive into town. “What powers it?”

“For one,” I say without taking my eyes off the road ahead, “It’s a car not a carriage.”

“Isn’t “Car” just a shortened version of carriage?” she comments.

“Sure,” I roll my head on my shoulders and look at her, “Why not. Anyway this car, carriage, motorized automobile, whatever you’d call it, is powered by an internal combustion engine which burns a flammable liquid and forces the wheels to turn via a complicated set of… things under the car. I don’t know much more past that, I’m not a car guy I just drive them.”

“Ah!” Twilight’s horn glimmers and a scroll and quill appear on the dash of the car on which she begins furiously scribbling notes in some hieroglyphic style language. “How interesting… I wonder if it could be improved any?”

“We’ve kind of supped the internal combustion engine up as much as we can, now we’re just about ready to ditch it entirely for a hydrogen model or some such thing.” I tell her as the car slides into a parking space right in front of the Chinaland restaurant.

“And how does that function?” twilight pesters me as I get out of the car.

“Haven’t the slightest.” I reply as I open her door for her. Together we walk into the quaint, oriental themed building and are greeted by neither a waitress nor shouts forbidding a small, brightly colored horse to enter the establishment. “What do you like?” I ask Twilight as we come to the counter.

“Thick noodles with rice and vegetables,” she answers, “But no meat.” I nod and order her dish as well as a plate of General Tso’s with extra spice for me. The owner doesn’t even bat an eyelash as I pay him and walk over to a window table with my equine companion.

We sit down and I begin to fiddle with a packet of soy sauce out of habit. “So can I expect more of you guys showing up or what?” I ask after the waiter sets down twilight’s water and my Soda.

“Well…” Twilight stares at her hoof and seems determined not to answer my query.

“Well?” I mimic.

“Well, there’s a chance that my potential creation and entrance of the world will lead to spontaneous rifts in which ponies and possibly even objects will appear for a brief time, surely never longer than an hour, and then return to Equestria.” A new waiter brings our food out and sets the plates in front of us in the wrong order, I quickly swap them around as he turns to leave and I glare down at my meal. “Oh this looks delicious.” Twilight says with a wide grin as she levitates a fork and begins eating. I swallow and lift my own silverware off the cold marble of the table and spear a round hunk of spice soaked, wok fried chicken.

“That’s why I always eat here,” I tell Twilight as I bite into the crunchy outside and then the soft, chewy innards, “because it’s so very… good.”

“Hey now,” Twilight wipes her sauce covered lips on a hovering napkin and looks me in the eyes, she has such vivid, such soft lavender irises. “Why do you seem so upset?”

“Oh Goddess!” I laugh and set my head down on the table. “I’ve been visited by two Celestial deities and a unicorn who claims to have created everything I know one accident, how could I not be… I don’t know, upset, confused, irritated, angry?” My arm shifts until my eyes and Twilight’s are are gazing into one another’s once again. “Am I wrong to be… emotional, I suppose? Am I wrong to be conflicted about all this knowledge that has been imparted on me so recently?”

“I guess not…” Twilight murmurs in almost a whisper.

“That’s what I thought.” I retort through a mouthful of spicy chicken.

We sit there for countless moments as a quarter of an hour drowns away around us. We eat silently and so many things run through my mind that I forget the time entirely.

“I have to get back soon.” I tell Twilight as she finishes the last of her noodles, my plate lies scraped clean next to me already.

“I’ll be heading back soon as well.” Twilight remarks sullenly.

I leave a generous tip and we leave Chinaland to return to my school. It isn’t until halfway back that my rudeness to Twilight becomes apparent to me. Out of the corner of my eye I see her leaning against the window and trying, but failing, to refrain from weeping. I see the pitiful trails those tears left as they dibbled down from those magnificent lavender eyes. I smile bitter-sweetly and reach over to comfort my otherworldly passenger. Her head lifts from its somber resting place and once again her eyes meet mine as my fingers run through her silky smooth hair.

“I’m sorry Twilight,” I admit to the both of us, “I didn’t realize how much this would affect you, I didn’t realize just how much it would affect both of us. I’m not mad at you or anything; I’m just confused is all.” Her lips spread into a grin and she leans over towards me.

“I’m sorry too,” she says as a final tear rolls down her cheek, “I never thought about how such a thing could be taken by someone who’s always known a different truth.” She smiles wholeheartedly at me and I can’t help but feel better. “So will you be Ok?”

“Yeah,” I pat her one the shoulder as we turn in to the school parking lot, “I’ll be just fine. Besides, I couldn’t ask for a better creator than someone, somepony I suppose, as kind and creative as you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Twilight replies but even as I look back to her she’s gone just as she said she’d be when her hour was up.

“I’m glad too.” I mouth as I park my car and head inside.

So many emotions and thoughts swirl around within me as I return twelve minutes late for Carpentry class that I don’t even notice the purple bracelet wrapped snugly around my wrist or the lavender pendant hanging off of it.

‘Such a strange day… what could possibly happen next?’

6th hour - Carpentry

I stealthily enter the back door to the shop and peak around a jumbled pile of unusable materials to see if Mr. Forrester is around. Finding only my classmates mulling around the shop floor a long breath escapes my lips and I walk out into the open.

“Where’ve you been at?” A jock named Dalton asks me as I join him by the table saw. “I seen you leave at lunch with some girl,” he grins mischievously at me, “Did’cha get any?” he asks with a wink.

“Girl?” I stare at him with no small amount of confusion. Surely he couldn’t have mistaken Twilight for a girl… But then again the folks at Chinaland didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah, man, the girl!” he nearly shouts at me, “Damn fine looking chick in a purple hoodie and skirt,” he nudges me with one massive boulder of a shoulder, “So did you score?”

“Unfortunately not,” I admit.

“Hah!” he guffaws loudly and smacks me hard on the back, “Sorry to hear that you struck out bro,” he says with a touch of genuine emotion and a heaping of sarcasm. “Don’t sweat it, bro, there’s always next time,” he tells me, wrapping an arm across my shoulders and turning me around as he does, “And lookie here, next time’s right ‘bout now!” I follow his gaze over towards the far right corner and nod patiently as he continues to talk. “Now there’s a woman!” he smacks his lips, “She’s got that whole cowgirl thing goin’ and good God does she pull it off!” with a quick pat on the back he shoves me in her direction. “Go on bro, couple of us tried and struck out so here’s your chance to redeem yoself after getting’ nowhere with that girl in purple. Go on man!” he urges me once more and I listen. Smiling to myself I near the corner of the shop where Dalton saw a beautiful cowgirl, munching on an apple and leaning against a wall. All I see is a pale orange, freckled pony, no wings or horns at all, with shoulder length bleached blond hair pulled into a…pony tail…

“Hello,” I nod my head and lean against the wall adjacent to her.

“Well, howdy,” she replies in a deep southern drawl.

“Does the name Twilight Sparkle ring a bell?” I ask casually.

“Sure does,” the cowgirl pony answers, “She just so happens to be a good friend of mine, and the reason Ah’m here, wherever here is, so how ‘xactly do ya know Twi anyhow?” she glares at me softly waiting for an explanation.

“I met Twilight, as well as Luna and Celestia, earlier today. She told me more ponies would be showing up, she also told me… eh, nevermind. It’s not that important. So how long have you been here?”

“Oh ‘bout tin, twenny minutes or so,” she tells me, “Why ya ask?”

“Well according to Twilight’s math you’ll be here no longer than an hour… by the way I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Applejack.”

“Of course it is…” I mutter beneath my breath. “So Applejack what would you like to do while you’re here?” I ask in an attempt to be hospitable.

“Well Ah’d sure love another o’ these apples,” she stops for a moment to nod at and then bite into the apple balanced on her hoof.

“I think I can arrange that,” I smile at her and beckon for her to follow me.

I walk over to a nearby table covered in boxes of FFA fruit and she trots slowly behind me.

“Here,” I toss her a bright red apple the size of a softball and sit on the little free space left on the table. “So what are you?”

“Well Ah’m an Earth pony o’ course.” She says.

“I mean what’ your job, what do you do for a living?” I ignore the immensely confusing terminology and press on with the conversation.

“I’m an apple bucker.” Applejack states with pride.

“Come again?”

“Mah brother an Ah kick the apple trees in orda ta harvest ‘em.” She expounds upon her profession.

“Ahh I see,” I lie. “So do you have your own orchard or what?”

“We sure do!” she replies enthusiastically, “Mah granny an mah brother an me all live on and work on a slice o’ paradise we call Sweet apple Acres!”

“How…odd.” My train of thought derails as an object, or more appropriately the lack of said object, becomes apparent to me. “Hey guys,” I shout to my classmates, “What happened to the band saws?” I point at the empty space near the far wall were three heavy, bladed machines had always sat together in a neat line.

“Uh,” Dalton blubbers.

“Well fuc-” Another classmate begins to swear just as Mr. Forrester walks into the shop.

“What’s this now about missing equipment?” he asks with a grim tone. I forgot how thin the wall between the shop and his office was, he must have overheard this whole… this whole conversation. The possible implications of him hearing my talk with Applejack roll off my shoulders as he storms away complaining about stolen saws and some kid named Lafe.

My fears melt away as everyone returns to their prior occupations and I look back at Applejack.

“Wanna go for a walk?” I ask, I’ve long since caring about getting in trouble with teachers as this was certainly more important than school.

“Sure thing sugarcube.” Applejack nods her head and we head for the back door. Halfway there I’m halted by a catcher’s glove of a hand and I look to see Dalton at my side.

“Nice goin’ bro,” he chuckles, patting my back and shaking my hand. As he lets go I can’t help but notice the small, bulgy foil square he’d slipped onto my palm. I can’t help but chuckle myself as I hold the door open for Applejack and toss the unneeded gift into the trash. As if anyone would want to do that with a pony!

We step out into the frosty air and I pull my mood up and over my head. Applejack seems undeterred by the sudden and frigid cold and walks alongside my as though it didn’t bother her in the least.

“So you’ve been here for almost a half an hour,” I remind her, “You’ll be heading home soon, you know.”

“Ah know,” she sighs as we meander further away from the school building. “It’s incredible here, Ah’ve never seen such… such bold colors before in mah entire life. That an those apples were downright delicious!”

“Well than take a few home with you and plant the seeds,” I offer her three of the large, red fruits and frown for a moment as my vision blurs and the objects around me blink out of existence.

“What’s a matter, sugercube?” Applejack asks, concern filling her voice.

“Uh,” I snap my eyes shut and when I reopen them all is as it should be… besides, of course, the talking horse I’m handing stolen apples to. “Nothing Apple-”

“Ya’ll can call meh AJ,” she corrects me, “Ah’ve always preferred the fellas to call meh that.”

“Sure, AJ.” I hand her the apples and jam my shivering hands back into the warm pocket on the front of my hoodie. “Now those are Earth apples so if you plant them they won’t necessarily grow true so you’ll want to…” I peak to my right but the golden orange cowgirl pony is gone. “I guess Twilight’s math wasn’t so exact after all.” I turn and walk back to the shop with me head down and my fingers interlaced behind my lower back. The cold bothers me but nearly as much as… not nearly as much as nothing. I look up and there’s Dalton standing with a stupid grin on his stupid face and holding the door open for me. I can’t help but laugh as I enter the shop and receive applause from half a dozen horny teenagers.

“Did’cha score?” Dalton asks immediately.

“Sure did,” I lie. And as I look down I see an apple shaped locket in my grip. So, in an odd, roundabout way, I did score, not in the sense my friends would like to believe but in one that I find to be much more valuable.

‘What more could this day have in store?’

7th hour U.S. History

Sixth hour ends just after I reenter the shop and I push into the mob of people congregating in the halls. I force my way past the hoi polloi and grimace when my knees buckle and groan under my sizable frame. I soldier on to Mr. Wong’s room and promptly slump into a front row desk. I like the front row despite its reputation. I rarely get called on to supply my Asian-born U.S. History instructor and on the off chance that I am picked I always know the answer, either that or I can bluff well enough to please Mr. Wong and progress the day’s lecture.

This week we’re discussing American involvement in Vietnam and I continue to hear snippets of racial jokes and mocking as the less interested and more sociable pupils in the back ignore the lesson. Every few minutes Mr. Wong glares at them with open contempt but he never even so much as demands their attention and silence, he’s just too nice I guess.

The hands on the clock dance wildly, as though they intend upon splicing a Waltz and a mosh-pit together into one circular entanglement to pass the hours. And precisely that they accomplish and all to soon I notice how little of class there is left, the minutes have withered away unnoticed and uncared for due partially to my affinity for this class, and more importantly to the sun’s advanced dip into the western border of land and sky.

My attention drifts from Mr. Wong’s ramblings about how politics intertwined with military actions and my focus latches on the inexplicable path of the star Sol. At a time when it should still be high above it’s now sliding down with such speed that I can track it’s course over a span of mere minutes.

“What in Goddess’ name…” My contemplation is interrupted and my concentration shattered as the intercom screeches and the assistant principal asks Mr. Wong to forgive his sudden disruption of the class.

“Would you kindly send a few students down to help us for a brief moment?” Mr. Whilts’ voice crackles through the aged communication hub and Mr. Wong asks for volunteers.

A whopping three hands lift off of desks and into the air, one of which drops back down before being noticed. Mr. Wong nods at an effeminate sophomore with golden curls and then at me. Together we abandon our books as well as our class and walk to the office.

“Ahh anything’s better than being stuck in that class!” the boy, whose name I forget, it’s Ford I believe, says as he stretches out his arms and yawns loudly.

“I enjoy it.” I argue.

“Well to each his own.” He replies with an unnecessary pat on the back that lingers just long enough to be quite awkward. “So what do you think we’ll be doing?”

“Well I don’t know about you but I’ll not be there to find out.” Without warning I veer left down another hallway and out the side doors of the building.

Looking past me Ford giggles in a high pitch and shouts to me, “Oh you boys chasing those girls, good luck!” I wave off his comment and walk up to the “girl” in question.

“Hello.” I kneel down a few feet away from her and look her over; she’s bright blue with fluorescent hair of every color in the rainbow that hangs short and jagged off of her head and a tail to match.

“Oh,” She mutters rolling her eyes of fuchsia and returning her intense gaze at the track, “Hi there, say is that track for anypony to use or what?”

“Yeah, you’re more than welcome to it, I doubt anyone will care,” I tell her and follow her closer as she trots over to the dark maroon racing strip.

“You look in good shape,” she slams me on the side with an outstretched wing, “how ‘bout a race?” she takes a place on the outer most lane and waits there eager for a competition.

“Sure,’ I lumber on over beside her, “I think my legs can hold out for a one lap run.”

“Great,” the blue Pegasus grins at what she assumes to be a surefire win, “I’ll go easy on ya, no wings at all!” She folds her feathery appendages tightly against her back and bows down into a runner’s stance. “Name’s Dash by the way, Rainbow Dash.”

“How original.” I Quip as she begins the countdown.

“Marks,” I lean into an athletic stance myself, “Set,” I take a deep breath, “GO!” she screams at the top of her lungs and tear away from our stating position.

All care about today’s odd events and all caution for my bad legs flee my mind as the euphoric pain of rigorous exercise pumps adrenaline into my veins and dopamine into my head. My breaths fall into rhythm with my strides and soon my pace and Dash’s are matched.

“So Dash, if I may call you Dash,” I shout as we take the first corner, “you’re the fifth pony I’ve met today,” I take a deep, ragged breath and press on despite the burning in my lungs.

“Yeah, so what?” she takes a slight lead and I push hard not to fall too far behind, “You’re the first… whatever you are that I’ve met and I could care less as long as I beat you!”

I gasp desperately for air and force my legs to keep going. “Yeah but…” I start to slow.

My vision blurs again, this time violently, and the world around me folds away like a deck of cards being shuffled. Colors bleed away and one by one everything fades to black. I keep running blindly as the abyss swallows me whole. I shout but the echoes only ring like school bells in my ears. I stumble and start to fall.

“But what?” Dash yells at me, bringing me back from that hollow world, as she nears the second turn.

“But,” I holler as I pump my legs furiously and catch up to her, “This type of thing never happens to me, it’s kind of a big deal being visited by talking mythical creatures and all.” I grind my teeth, ignore the bad acid trip I just encountered, and take the lead. “You’re good.” I compliment my flamboyantly colored opponent as we near the finish line.

“I know!” she attests, “I’m the best flyer in Cloudsdale, in all of Equestria even!”

“That may be so,” I clench my fists, fight the growing discomfort and sprint all out towards the finish line, “But this ain’t flying now is it?!”

We crash through the imaginary banner signaling the end of the race and I’m quick to slow. Rainbow tries to decelerate at the same speed as me but fails and instead crashes into the back of my legs. Together we crumple to the ground and lie there in silence for a moment, no noise besides the rampant beating of our exhausted hearts and the violent wheezing of our depleted lungs.

“I won!” Dash proudly exclaims as soon as she’s caught her breath.

“And I’m the Prince of Bufu Egypt.” I retort sourly.

“Oh,” Dash gasps, “I’m so sorry, your highness! Are you OK?” there isn’t even the slightest of a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

We untangle ourselves and sit opposite of each other.

“Good race,” Dash raises a hoof which I softly bump with my own balled fist, “Your highness.”

“I was kidding about that.” I tell her somberly.

“Oh.” She stutters. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did, hotshot.” I pat her on the back and begin to stretch my now sore and aching legs.

“That doesn’t sound so good.” she mentions when my knees pop and crack as I shift them about.

“I know,” I tell her as I lie down and rest on the hard asphalt.

“That was fun!” Dash giggles quietly. “Up for round two?”

“I don’t think so, no.” I bend my knee again for her to hear why not.

“Ohh, yeah.” Dash grimaces at the crackling joint. “Well thanks for racing me once at least.”

“Sure, anytime… well not anytime soon but you know what I… And she’s gone.” I look over to see that my assumption was a correct one. “What a day.”

I head back into the school and then into Mr. Wong’s room to collect my things. All the while I twist and turn in my hand a small earring in the shape of a lightning cloud. Before venturing off for my final class of the day I slip into a restroom to put on the curious piece of jewelry. I pierce the previously untouched flesh and slide the earring into place.

‘What a day indeed.’

8th Hour - Study hall

Cheers erupt in the hallway and die down as the final bell of the day tolls and an irate instructor shouts for the verbal celebration to be quelled. I limp towards the library, babying the worse of my bad legs as I go, and ignore the catcalls of “Gimp!” and “Cripple!”. With a burst of unleashed anger I barge into the wide, open room. Awaiting the resounding thud of the slammed door I’m disappointed when the pneumatics slide the door quietly shut.

I pass teachers, push aside students, and twist and turn through the many sweatshop grade bookshelves until I come to my seat… only to find it occupied, and by a pony no less.

“Oh,” the pale yellow Pegasus stutters as I near, “Am I in your seat? Oh dear, I’m so sorry, I’ll just move so you can have your seat back.” She rises, not with her wings but with her hooves solely, and scoots away from me. “I’m so, so very sorry!” she meeps and buries her face into her pink hair.

“No worries.” I murmur softly as I settle into my seat and swipe another chair from the adjacent table despite angry rebukes from its former occupant. “Would you like to sit with me?” I smile gently at this soft-spoken filly and pat the seat as an infuriated sophomore behind me bellows and leaves in a huff.

“Uh,” she shivers and looks up at me with a terrified expression, “Oh… Ok, you won’t hurt me will you?” she asks as she flutters up on to the seat next to me.

“I’d do no such thing.” I assure her with a kind smile.

“Well… OK then,” she looks up and her tender teal eyes melt my heart a tad. “I’m, I’m Fluttershy by the way.”

“What’s that?” I ask and tap my ear, “I’m a bit deaf.”

“Fluttershy.” She repeats and I stare at her blankly.

“Flower eye?” I guess.

“Fluttershy.”

“Fighter guy?”

“Fluttershy!”

“Finger thigh?”

“Fluttershy!” She shouts causing a dozen or so “Sshh’s” to ring out from the other library patrons. “Sorry.” She reverts to her whispery tone.

“So how are you enjoying your stay on Earth Fluttershy?” I ask to take her mind off the whole name fiasco.

“Well,” she pauses to take a deep breath, “it’s kind of scary, not you I mean, not that your world is scary, just that, just that…” she hides behind her hair and squeaks; “It’s terrifying!”

I laugh quietly and pat her on the head. “I can’t argue with you there Fluttershy, this world is the most horrendous place I know of.”

“What?” she gasps. “Then whyever do you stay here?”

“I haven’t much choice on the matter, I can’t leave this world and everywhere’s the same, more or less, so I stay here and ride it out, hope for better days, and…”

“And what?” she asks sweetly.

“And dream of a better place…” I add solemnly.

“So if you dream of leaving,” she scoots closer and nudges my arm, “why don’t you try to go somewhere better?”

“It’s not that simple,” I explain to her, or at least try to, as she edges closer and closer to me. “I’d love to leave, I really would. But I can’t, it’s just not possible for me to escape reality and ascend somewhere grander and greater than here and now.”

“How do you know that?” she snuggles up against my side and scrutinizes my frown. “How can you know something if you’ve never tried? How can it be impossible if you’ve never even attempted to make it possible?”

“I…” my voice falters and I look at Fluttershy soberly. “I don’t know.” My hands quiver with a mixture of fear and excitement at the idea of actually trying to leave. “Could I go somewhere else?” I ask her.

“I did, and so did the princesses and Twilight and Rainbow and Applejack. If they went somewhere why couldn’t you do the same?”

“They had magic to help them,” I remind Fluttershy, “Besides, they didn’t go to a better place, you said it yourself; this world is terrifying.”

“Well…” Fluttershy mumbles.

We sit there for a few silent moments, neither looking at each other nor away at anything else, just lost in a world of thought until she breaks the hush and offers an idea.

“Maybe twilight could send you somewhere…” she suggests.

“Hmm,” I sigh, “I’m not a huge fan of her work but maybe, just maybe that would do the trick…”

“So what is this world like?” Fluttershy suddenly asks. “All I’ve seen of it has been this school, which is scary enough, but you speak of it as though-”

“As though the thought of existing even another moment here brings tears to my eyes and pains me?” I finish for her. “That’s because it does. This would is kind to few, just to some, and bearable to most. To me… it’s just suffering to me.” I shift my sore legs and Fluttershy winces at the resulting crackles of grating bones.

“Is… is that why?” she asks innocently and nods at my lower limbs.

“No,” I stroke her hair absent mindedly and stretch my legs out under the table. “Physical pain bothers me little, it’s the… the emotional, the mental agony that tortures me.”I sniffle and wipe away a stray tear before it can even be seen. “This world is good to some, but not to me, never to me. I’ve never had it easy, I’ve never gotten it right, all I’ve ever done was survive one day and hope and pray that the next would be better. So far no one’s heard those prayers, or if they have they’ve failed miserably to answer them.”

“Oh my…” Fluttershy cries at a loss for further words.

“It’s ok though,” I wrap an arm around Fluttershy and hug her for a moment, “I can handle it, I’m used to it by now.” I smile, with genuine pleasure for once, at the yellow and pink pony in my arms as the environment around me shimmers and glitches. I close my eyes and hear her speak.

“It gets better,” her voice falters and fades, “Surely it will.”

And I open my eyes and she’s gone, the cheap, dusty bookshelves full of cheap, boring paperbacks have returned, and in my grasp is a small pin in the shape of a butterfly.

“A butterfly flaps its wings.” I mutter, just now realizing what her sign was.

“And there’s a snowstorm in Chicago… or is it Milwaukee?” I look up to find who replied but no one’s there.

So I just look at the pin and smile softly to myself as only a madman would. “It gets better… oh how I hope you’re right.”

But when will it get better? I can’t wait too much longer, I fear that neither I nor this world I’m in can hold it together until it does get better. So here’s hoping for sooner rather than later.

School's Over - The Story Isn't : Or - Hour Zero - Detention Part 1

“Hail Eris.” I raise my eyes to the ceiling and praise my favorite deity when the clock strikes three thirty two and our supervisor announces that we may leave. My good mood disintegrates into foul aura of annoyance as my name is called over the intercom along with a dozen other individuals who committed crimes against education heinous enough to warrant an after school detention.

“There goes any chance of a decent afternoon.” I fume walking down the halls crowded with underage idiots eager to drink, smoke, party, screw away the weekend, quite literally. I fight against the current of ‘yoloswag’ spouting youth and come to room forty-two, more commonly referred to as the dungeon. I enter the cramped, ill lit room and secure a seat as far away from the board as possible. I slide into an old, graffiti ridden desk tucked away nicely into the back, left corner of the room. Once there I hide my face behind a well worn copy of Going bovine and wish for little more than to pass the next hour and three-fourths without being pestered by teachers, students, or dimension hoping ponies.

Within seconds all three said parties enter the room and ensure that my bookmark won’t advance at all today.

An old nuisance, in the form of Tyler the quarterback, a teacher who should have retired over a decade ago by the name of Mr. Schroden, and a white washed mare whose luscious purple hair flows like a smooth river and whose name I can only assume to be a bad pun. Together these three swagger, shuffle, and sashay into class respectively. Mr. Schroden tiredly seats himself in an uncomfortable looking chair front and center, Tyler knocks various supplies off people’s desks and soon begins tipping the desks themselves over on his roid induced, rage filled stomp to his usual spot, and little miss high society wanders past them both, tisk-tisking in disapproval as she goes, and begrudgingly chooses a vacant chair directly caddy-corner to my own.

The late bell roars and detention officially begins.

“What a ruffian,” The pearl white pony tosses her hair towards the angry jock and grumbles to me, “Not only does he have an absolutely detestable disposition, he smells downright awful!” she looks to me to agree.

“Can’t argue with you there.” I oblige her and raise a rather obscene digit towards the Neanderthal in question. “And you are?” I change the topic as devil spoken of glares in our general direction.

“Rarity, dear.” She replies with a wave of a hoof as though such a thing should be common knowledge by now.

“Well Rarity,” I nod at the recipient of her insults and clear my throat, “May I suggest we discus something, anything really, other than him. He’s not too keen on allowing others to badmouth him without receiving broken legs for doing so.”

“Oh my!” She cries, “How ghastly!”

“Exactly,” I nod and divert my eyes as Tyler begins swearing profusely about having to miss practice in order to serve this detention for whatever felony he’d recently committed. “So what brings you to detention this fine afternoon? Smoking in the girl’s bathroom?”

“As if!” She giggles and smacks me with a hoof. “No, nothing of that sort. Twilight instructed us of the possibility of being sent here and what we should do if such a thing should occur.”

“And what were you told to do?” I lean in and emphasize just how much I pretend to care.

“Were we to… shall we say arrive… here we were to single you out and stay close to you.” she tells me with a huff.

“Why in good Goddess’ name did Twilight have you come after me?” I toss my hands up in frustration garnering an exasperated look from Mr. Schroden.

“Evidently you’ve earned the trust and admiration of not only Twilight but the princesses as well.

“Well lucky me,” I moan, “I have the honor of babysitting interstellar Equestrians!”

“Whatever are you blathering about?” Rarity stares at me in honest confusion.

“I don’t even know anymore.” I put my head down and sigh. “I stopped trying to make sense of today’s events around second hour, and that was before all the ponies began manifesting themselves to me and me alone.”

“Well dear… Uh” Rarity searches desperately for words of wisdom or advice, “That’s nice.” She fails.

“So the other’s wasted my time with metaphysics, idle chit chat, sports, and impromptu therapy sessions, what do you plan to spend your time here doing?” I ask without bothering to look up.

“Well,” Rarity sucks her lower lip in and takes a deep breath, “We could always talk about your wardrobe.” She offers.

“What about it?” I look down at my tattered sneakers, baggy jeans, and loose fitting t-shirt. “I like how I look.”

“Of course you do darling!” she appeases me. “But don’t you think you could look even better?”

“Are you implying I need a makeover?” I stare at her with such intense apathy that I expect her to drop the subject entirely.

“Well now that you mention it,” she stands and holds a hoof out to me, “You could greatly benefit from one.”

“Why not?” I groan and stand, “Hey Mr. Schroden!” I call out.

“MmmHm?” He replies bored.

“I’m out,” I say as Rarity and I walk towards the door, “I’ll serve this on Monday.”

“Tha’s fine.” He nods at me and returns to glaring at the rest of the detainees.

“WHAT!?! Tyler screams as we leave the classroom, “Why can they leave but I have to miss practice?”

“Because I like him more than you.” We hear Mr. Schroden quip as we stroll out the main doors.

“So where to?” Rarity asks once we’re outside.

“The mall of course.”

Zero Hour - Part Two - The Mall

The local mall is conveniently only three blocks away from my school so Rarity and I choose to walk there rather than drive.

"I'm sorry dear," she apologizes for the fifth time as we near the sprawling, modern day Agora, "But I just wouldn't have felt safe in that screaming metal deathtrap you call an automobile."

"That's fine Rarity," I repeat for the fifth time as we pass a sleepy security guard and head into the nearly deserted hall of outlet store and cramped chain franchises. "So where to?" I point out a few potential outfitters but Rarity shakes her head unhappily with each suggestion.

"Oh!" She gasps and walks towards a miniscule store tucked away in an unpopular corner. "What about there? There have some gorgeous tops and the man working there seems to know high fashion!” Ignoring my arguments altogether she heads into the boutique and I begrudgingly follow.

“Oh. My. Goodness gracious!” a flaming cashier, the only employee on shift, cries as we walk in. “That dress is B. E. A. Utiful! Where on Earth did you get it?” He’s suddenly at Rarity’s side remarking how stunning her clothes are despite my inability to see them at all.

“Oh, this drab little number?” Rarity waves it off as though it were trash bags sewn together with the facial hair of vagrants and decorated with barbed wire and unborn fetuses. “I made it myself, it’s not my best work by far but it will do when I just don’t care how I look.”

“Well it is fabulous, dear.” The man, Samuel his nametag reads, singsongs his compliments to my equine escort and turns his attention to me. “MmMmMm.” He mutters disapprovingly and folds his arms across his chest. “Such a fine young man, but all that handsomeness is wasted when you go around dressed like...” he unfolds one arm just enough to wave it in a circular motion in my general direction.

“A bum?” Rarity offers helpfully.

“Well I wouldn’t stoop so low as to use such vulgar terms...” he smiles at first Rarity then me, "But yes. So what shall we do about it?” he ponders aloud and produces a measuring tape from the back pocket of his skinny jeans.

“I was hoping to finance my friend’s makeover.” Rarity explains as Samuel begins recording my size.

“What a big boy!” he mutters just barely loud enough to be heard as he wraps the neon pink tape around my waist. “So a full makeover, new shoes, pants, shirts, and a haircut of course.”

“Do you even do all that here?” I ask as he kneels in front of me and checks my thighs. I notice he fails to write down the measurement or even actually measure them.

“No,” he replies as he slips my shoes off one by one and tosses them away after noting their size and style, “But we’re in the mall, babe, and we can do it all here!” he stands erect and wanders off to the shelves of denim and cotton clothing. “44 32, right?” he asks as he peruses the racks of brand name jeans. I answer to the affirmative and he pulls out a pair of painfully petite pants.

“No.” I immediately reject his selection. “Nothing skintight or uncomfortable.”

“So we’re looking for an outfit that’s respectable and comfortable?” he scratches his hairless chin and snaps his fingers. “We can do that! Follow me.” Without another word he strolls out into the main wing of the mall.

“What a wonderful fellow,” Rarity praises as we follow Samuel out, “And here you were worried about this whole ordeal.”

“It’s going well,” I humor her and ignore the flickering storefronts as we chase Samuel down and meet him outside of a high end retailer.

“Hey Joslyn,” Samuel waves at a cute girl in hipster shades as we walk in, “This’ll be on tab, I’m working on a full makeover project at the moment.” He strides into the store and starts sorting through their merchandise. Meanwhile Rarity skims over the sales add, muttering occasionally about new ideas for her own boutique, and I lean over the counter and flirt a bit with Joslyn.

“So why are you getting a makeover? Is it for your girlfriend?” She asks coyly and flicks a finger in Rarity’s direction.

“Nope,” I tell her coolly, “It’s just to look good for the ladies,” I wink at her and whisper “That would be my sister by the way.”

“Oh!” Joslyn gasps, “I’m so sorry... I I didn’t mean to... Oh how can I make this up to you?”

“Well,” I hand her a pen off the counter and hold my own hand out to her, “You could always give me your number.”

“You sly dog!” she giggles and prints seven digits and a quick note on the palm of my hand. “I like your tattoo.” She rubs the soft, moisturized tips of her fingers over my wrist and smiles. “What is it?”

“The Five Fingered Hand of Eris-” I begin to tell her but my explanation, along with my flirting, is cut short as Samuel returns with two nice pairs of jeans and a manic grin.

“Let’s go!” he hollers and walks off without waiting for either Rarity or I once more. “So many places to go, so little time!” he calls sweetly and Rarity rushes off after him.

“Let’s continue this conversation later,” I tell Joslyn as I head out, “How about at diner tonight?”

“Seven forty two?” she offers. “That’s when my shift ends.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I tell her, ignoring Rarity’s urges for me to hurry as I do so, “I’ll pick you up.”

“I’ll be waiting outside!” she cries as I’m forcibly pulled away by a frenzied fashionista.

“I’ll see you then!”

<><><>

Rarity, Samuel, and I spent the better half of the next hour winding our way through the maze of stalls and vendors in this mall until everything I could possibly require for a new look is assembled and tossed together in a stolen cart pulled along behind us by yours truly. In front of me Rarity and Samuel discuss prices as we maunder back towards the outlet where this whole adventure began.

“Now Samuel,” Rarity begins, “Will gold coins be an acceptable method of payment? Unfortunately they happen to be the only local currency I possess at the moment.”

“Well...” Samuel inhales sharply. “I’m really only supposed to accept U.S.D. as payment...”

“But Sammy-Wammy!” Rarity pouts and sheds a few drops of amphibian tears.

“Well... Ok, so that’ll be around, about eighteen hundred and twenty four dollars so...” he stops in his tracks, turns to us and begins to ask “Any clue how much that would be in go...” he blinks a few times and tries to speak. “Where’d your sister go?” he asks flabbergasted.

“No clue,” I lie through my teeth. “She just wanders off every now and again.” I assure him.

We stand in the middle of the empty wing for a few awkward minutes.

“Is she coming back?” Samuel asks worriedly.

“Probably not.” I reply. “So...”

“You know you still have to pay for those, right?” Samuel reminds me.

“Right.”

<><><>

I walk back to my car in a light drizzle with five bags of new clothes, an adopted sister nowhere in sight, a diner date and her number, and three maxed out credit cards. Not exactly how I’d planned my afternoon to go but oh well. At least I got to skip detention and avoid-

“Look who it is!” a deep, terrifying voice booms out from nearby smoker’s alley. “So where is it you and your little lady friend went off to instead of serving out your de-tent-chin?” the voice questions me and grows louder as it comes closer. I toss my bags into my car, barely noticing the resulting shriek of surprise from within, and turn to look into the eyes of my least favorite quarterback.

“Afternoon,” Tyler glares at me and sits at my feet. “Maybe I didn’t get my message through clear enough last time. You remember? When I broke your leg and put you in a wheel chair. Yeah you remember. So what do I hafta do this time to make myself clear?”

I look him in the eye and prepare for the worst.

“Perhaps I should start by giving you matching scars on that other leg of yours.” He threatens. “Or maybe I should just,” he pulls a thin stiletto from his back pocket and flicks it open mere millimeters away from my face, “Give you a whole new set.”

Good Goddess help me out here, I’ll take ponies and existential crisis’s over this any day.

Home At Last? Part 1

“So now,” Tyler’s rancid breath fills my nostrils and tears come unwillingly to my eyes, “what should I do?” I gulp silently and try to back away but his gnarled hand shoots out and five tobacco stained and yellowed fingers grab a hold of me. I resist but it’s futile; he just won’t let go. “Let me axe you this one more time,” he spits in my face as he snarls out the words viciously, “WHAT should I do to you?!” he screams. “ANSWER ME!” my body is shaken thoroughly and I claw at him as he pushes me up against my own car. “WHAT SHOULD I DO?!” he howls at me.

“You should let him go,” a gentle, yet authoritarian voice cries out when Tyler’s hands begin to slide up to my neck. “You big meany!” the stranger adds and my heart sinks when the realization of who is speaking occurs to my terror ridden mind.

“Well, well,” Tyler drops me and from my new position on the uneven gravel I witness his short trip from me to her.

“Tyler,” I choke out as he nears the frightened pink pony, “Leave her be, you’re mad at me remember?”

“Shut up.” He takes a moment to sneer at me before turning to look down at the poor girl, who I can only assume appears as a five year old in her pretty princess phase to him. “There,” he stops only when another step forward would knock the girl to the ground, “I let him go, now what should I do with you?” he grabs the girl by the nape of the neck and I can only imagine what he thinks he’s groping at. “Maybe I should show you why my nickname’s Penalizer.” He laughs uproariously and smiles perversely, “I’ll give you a hint,” he leans in and whispers, “It’s got nothing to do with sports, or penalties neither!”

“Dear Goddess,” I pray over the sound of gavel crunching beneath my tattered sneakers, “if you’re there,” I lift myself up off the ground, “if you’re listening,” I crouch and take a deep breath, “let this work!” with that desperate request uttered I shove one foot back and propel my respectable girth at the jock strap hassling a visitor not from this universe or even this dimension. My thighs pump quickly, my legs pound into the shifting pebbles underfoot, and with little more than a yard separating my tormentor, his current victim, and myself I charge. The bum rush works brilliantly as I tear Tyler away and bring him to the ground with a satisfying thud.

My heart dashes madly in flailing attempts to circulate blood throughout my enraged body as lay into the now quivering quarterback below me. My shouts and gasps for sweet air mix into a soundtrack of hatred and sadism. My fists come crashing down unto Tyler’s unprotected face like the timber fell by a lumberjack. Rational thoughts are repressed and any emotion besides unbridled rage becomes a rarity. All discipline and shyness die away as words of venom and bile spew forth accompanied by spittle and sheer contempt from my lips. A celestial oddity diverts my attention for but a moment and my swings and strikes slow and cease while my eyes drift upwards to see the moon fall into place at the dawn of an unnaturally early twilight. My heart rate declines until it’s reached a normal level and my blows to Tyler’s face and chest end entirely. I close my eyes to avoid seeing the pinkish maroon fluids pooling around his head.

“Praise Eris…” I murmur, stand, and walk towards my car, swaying drunkenly as I go. “Are you…” My concerns for the petrified pink pony fade away as her expression of pure abhorrence betrays her opinion of me. I lean against my Aveo and slowly slide down slumping softly to the hard ground as the adrenaline wavers and my mind returns to normal. “I’m… I’m so sorry you saw that.” I gasp between each ragged, pained breath. “But he deserved it, he really did.”

“Celestia was right…” she whimpers, her teal eyes dart to and fro from my fallen opponent and me.

“Right about what?” I sob.

“That…” she nervously approaches me and sits down leaning against my heaving side, “that you’d protect us if need be.” She cuddles closer to me and buries her head of long, fluffy curls into my neck. “Thank you.”

As the last of the tears sweep away from my lashes, and as my hands tremble so violently my lips curl into a smile, a small, bittersweet smile, but a smile nonetheless. “No worries.” I whisper. “I’d never let harm befall my friends.” our tender moment lasts but a minute before Tyler stirs and a world of pain threatens to unfold upon anyone foolish enough to remain near him as he regains consciousness. “We need to go,” I stand, helping the pony up as I go and watch morbidly as my enemy groans and props his beaten figure up with his only unbroken arm. “Now.” I command.

The pony and I hurry into my car and flee the scene before curious bystanders or furious footballers can bother us. Knowing nowhere else to go I simply head for home and hope for the best. My eyes lose focus and what I can only address as a variety of highway hypnosis overcomes me. I don’t remember driving, or even talking. I don’t know how I made it to where I’m at or how long it’s been. Hell, I can’t even see half the road in front of me or the houses to either side, but that may just be the fault of their actual disappearance, after all the events of today such unimportant details fail to hold my attention for long.

“My name is Pinkie Pie,” the pony at my side speaks suddenly as I turn on to my street, “Sorry for not introducing myself earlier.” She chuckles halfheartedly and lays her head on my knee. “Usually I throw a huge, big party for whenever I meet a new pony… I guess that’ll have to wait.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I reassure her. “That’s my motto in life, one of them anyway; No worries. Hakuna Matata, that sort of thing. If something can be done, then don’t worry about it, and if it can’t be, then certainly don’t worry about it.”

“No worries.” She tries the phrase out for herself and is pleased; I’m pleased as well just from seeing her eyes light up and her lips twist into such a sweet smile.

“No worries,” I remind her as we pull into my driveway, “Everything happens whether we want it to or not. So let’s enjoy the good, survive the norm, and pull each other through the chaos and into the light.”

“Let’s.”

Home At Last? Part 2

Soft solar reflections illuminate my driveway and guide Miss Pie and I into my modest, for lack of a better word, home. Keys jingle, doors squeak, my tired and trembling hands fumble, and at last harsh, incandescent bulbs bring a sweet lambency to the barely furnished living room of my home.

“What a cool place,” Pinkie exclaims, joy returning gradually filling her words, “It would be perfect for…” her smile is stymied and her hair flattens a bit in what I can only attribute to sheer disregard for the laws of physics, gravity, and logic, “a party.” She finishes disheartened by the impossibility of such an activity at the current moment.

I kneel down next to her, clutching a stray chair for support as I lower myself, and stroke her frizzled hair. “Some other time Pinkie, when things are less… hectic… You can throw me a huge party if you would like to.” Her mane poofs back into its natural curls and her sorrow lifts to reveal a content, and slightly spastic, pony.

“As soon as we get back to Equestria I will throw you the biggest party you’ve ever been thrown by anypony named Pinkie!” She gulps in a mouthful of replenishing oxygen before continuing.

“That’s me by the way!”

“Why thank… you.” I ponder Pinkie’s statement as I flop unto my beaten old couch and nod for her to sit with me. “What do you mean?” I ask curiously as she hops up next to me and cuddles against my side.

“I mean that I’ll throw you a HUGE party!” her despondent sigh reminds me of frustrated and burnt out teachers whose patients with a particularly troubling pupil are wearing thin. Her added ‘Duh’ only adds to the simile.

“I understood that, don’t get me wrong I’m looking forward to it, but what’s with the ‘we’ and the ‘Equestria’ bit in there?” I shift my sore legs and she rests her head on my thigh. “You don’t honestly expect me to go with you? Do you?” already her lachrymose expression answers that yes, she expects and intends for me to do exactly such a thing.

“Don’t you want to?” she pouts, her lower lip jutting forward and thin tears trailing down her rosy cheeks.

“Well…” I stutter and stumble over my words until the come spilling out like drunken polio victims. “I can’t just up and leave, I mean, I have school and family and a job and… and… and I have a date tonight!” a quick glance at a nearby table and the radio alarm clock laying on its side shows that I’ve already missed my appointment to pick up Jocelyn. I swear under my breathe and look back to Pinkie.

“You said it yourself; this place is terrible, awful, horrible, and Twi’s told me what will happen, so why won’t you come with me?” What I had earlier mistaken for crocodile tears prove to be all too real, the glimmering streaks of liquid sorrow race down her short fur and glisten in the light. “I thought you liked us, the others thought so too, even the princesses agreed on saving you. Why won’t you join us?”

“Wait,” I stop her with a gentle touch and attempt to compose myself and my thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to know why you won’t come to Equestria! I thought that was obvious.” She sobs.

“No,” I shake my head and wring my hands, “No,no,no! I meant all that talk about what Twilight has told you would happen and why the princesses agreed to ‘save’ me! What is all that about?”

“They didn’t tell you?” she gasps, raising one hoof to cover her mouth and setting another on my hand.

“No.”

“How could they meet you and not tell you!? I mean, it’s just, what, I don’t, it doesn’t, what?” she babbles.

“Twilight mentioned a few things,” I explain in utter confusion, “But nothing like what you’ve said. Well nothing like it except for-”

“Except for the fact that she made this whole world by accident and now that she’s been here it’s dying?” Pinkie offers an ending to my sentence.

“Well…” I fall silent for a while. “No, just that first bit.”

“So you didn’t know? You didn’t notice?”

“No, yes, maybe.” I swallow hard and take it all in. “So those random visions, those things disappearing, all the glitches and such I’ve been seeing… this world really is dying, no, it’s coming undone, unraveling by its seems… Just because she came here?”

“Yep,” Pinkie nods solemnly, “but she didn’t know until after she came back what she’d done by visiting.”

“So why did you all come to me? Why would you want to save me?” my hands quiver so violently and my breath comes so raggedly I can only pray to Goddess that this is all just a bad dream, just a bad trip, just a… bad something other than reality. Eris, in all her wisdom, chooses to ignore yet another of my desperate pleas. I hope she knows what she’s doing.

“Because you’re important,” Pinkie tells me, “You’re the human embodiment of the Elements of Harmony, and you’re the only person, in this entire world, with a body strong enough, a mind sharp enough, and a soul pure enough to deserve salvation.” Pinkie smiles and giggles without apparent cause. “Twilight’s words, not mine!”

Her laughter is contagious and soon I’m keeled over cackling along with her despite the gloomy mood that filled the room mere moments ago. The ruckus dies down and we grow somber once more.

“So everything, everyone… They all have to die?” blinding tears well up as I ask the single hardest question I’ve ever had to.

“Yep…” Pinkie’s drop down and I pull her into a hug before she can be depressed by the awful knowledge of the impending events.

“How soon?” I whisper into her ear.

“As soon as the last bit of Equestria leaves Earth.” She replies gravely.

“Let me guess,” My arms slide away but I keep her close to me, “You’re the last piece, the last pony.”

“Yep.” She whimpers.

“And you’ll be leaving soon.” I do the math in my head and realize that soon will actually be any moment now.

“Yep.” Her voice is so small I can’t even hear it but I know what she said.

“Then let’s go,” I smile at her and wink mischievously, “From one world of chaos to another, now worries.”

Pinkie holds her forehoof out to me and I take it in a firm, yet gentle grasp. Her lips twist upwards slightly as radiant light envelops us and everything bleeds away in an instance. Our bodies shimmer and our weight vanishes. Together we close our eyes and hurl through the fabric, corduroy I think, of time, space, and matter. As our journey reaches its zenith I blink and see my world crumbling to ash and my Goddess waving at me.

“When a butterfly flaps its wings there’s a snowstorm in Chicago,” she speaks wordlessly to me, “And when a man sees the true chaos surrounding him there’s a parade in Valhalla, but today you have overcome that chaos, that discord, that strife, and for that there shall be a party, the greatest party ever thrown for you by one Pinkie Pie, in Equestria.”

“Praise Eris.” I cry and all sweeps away leaving only the darkest dark, the blackest black, the endless night.

But then it’s all over.

Equestria - Day One

The blinding light and the suffocating darkness fade away and my surroundings become clear. Pinkie’s hoof, which my hand is still wrapped around, and then the pony it’s attached to blink into reality and we share a quick smile at the success of our journey. Before I can even blink luscious green grass pops up beneath my feet and the ground gains definition. Soon trees, shrubs, and even houses materialize around us.

“Welcome to Equestria.” Pinkie jumps into my arms and hugs me tightly. She flutters down as I let her go and my weary frown melts into a grin at her impossible antics. By the time I look back up and entire town has grown into existence and dozens of colorful creatures, some familiar and many more not, cheer.

“Welcome to Ponyville!” the crowd hollers, hooting and shouting greetings as well.

“Good to be here.” I return their hospitality and bow a bit as two Alicorns, standing heads and shoulders above the Pegasi, Unicorns, and Earth ponies, calmly approach me.

“I’m quite pleased to see you made it safely,” Celestia grins and winks at me, “I wouldn’t want to see any damage befall your… handsome self.” Luna remains silent but rolls her eyes at her sister and smirks at me.

“Well I’m pleased to be in one piece as well, I was afraid I might end up here in liquid form or with some other horrible dimension hopping disorder.” My smile widens more as the five ponies who had so kindly visited me on the day of my planet’s death walk up to me.

“Hello all,” I greet them, “You owe me two thousand some dollars Rarity, I just thought I should remind you before I forget.”

“Oh my,” the seamstress blushes and covers her mouth with a hoof, “My most sincere apologies, but my early departure couldn’t be helped.”

“No worries,” laugh and turn to face the other four. “So I guess I’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future.” They nod in unison. “In that case I’ll need a few things,” I kneel down and they gather around. “A job,” my eyes fall on Applejack, “I’m a hard worker.” I glance over to Rarity “A whole new wardrobe to replace what I left on Earth,” To Rainbow “I could use a partner to exercise with,” To Pinkie “Maybe a party to introduce me to everyone… everypony in town,” To Fluttershy “Someone to talk too,” To Twilight “Someone to teach me all about this world,” and as they all light up at their respective roles in my new life I request the most important of my requirements “And I’ll need a half dozen or so good friends, think you six could manage that?”

“Sure thang, sugacube!”

“Why certainly dear!”

“Sure, sounds cool!”

“If that’s what you want.”

“ABSO-POSO-TIVA-LUTLY!!”

“I think that I can arrange all that.” Twilight finishes the round of confirmations.

“Unfortunately mine sister and I must be returning to the castle,” Luna politely interjects, “So we’ll leave you in the capable hooves of these girls as you situate yourself here.” She nods to me appreciatively and she and Celestia prepare to fly off.

“Don’t forget to visit!” I tease as they lift off and soar into the brilliant blue sky. I look back to my new friends and neighbors. “So what now?”

<><><>

The crowd disperses when Pinkie informs them of and invites them to my welcoming party that will take place next Wednesday and I’m left alone with six of the oddest and truest friends I’ve ever had.

“Would you care to go for a tour around town?” Twilight offers.

“I like nothing more.”

Together the seven of us walk from the outskirts of Ponyville into its heart. Even as the sun sets and the moon rises we stroll and maunder about the quaint village, chatting and joking as we go.

I may have lost a lot today but I’ve gained so much more. I’ll take six honest to Goddess friends over a world of hate and intolerance any day. And today, today I was given the opportunity to do exactly that.

The butterfly has his part in the way the world works, and I have mine. And I’m pretty happy about mine.

Eris be praised.

The End!

I do hope you've enjoyed this romp of lunacy and chaos, I sure have

3rd hour Algebra 2

The grating shriek of the hourly bell interrupts my reading and sours my mood thoroughly. I grumble softly to myself, gather my papers into my blue binder and dog-ear the page of my novel as those around me stand and slouch off towards their next class. I follow them shortly after with no small amount of discomfort from the child sized desk and the position of my bad knee. Out the door and up the stairs I trudge, my legs complaining the entire way and my lips curling into a tight grimace as thoughts of unfinished assignments come forward. I bulldoze through the sea of disgruntled and angst filled teens pushing and shoving until my cubby hole of a locker is in sight. Swears slip loose of my tongue as I fiddle and fight with a rusty and worn out old combination lock. After no less than six failed attempts a well placed kick prompts the slender door open and lets a flurry of papers loose upon the floor at my feet. I toss a few unnecessary items in and kneel to retrieve both the scattered pages and the binder needed for my next class.

Out of the blue a pair of Nikes tear into the rumpled reports clenched in my hands and sends them off to be trampled underfoot of those who pass by without a care in the world past surviving another day in school. I glance up but the leg attached to the slave made shoes and its respective owner have already vanished into the masses and away from me. I roll my eyes softly and turn away from my locker with an armful of notebooks and assorted assignments. With a deft kick my locker’s door slams home and I force a path amidst the final stragglers.

A firm shoulder opens the way into a bleak room whose walls are adorned with positive, peppy, pro-math posters that fail in every conceivable way to improve any student’s mood. My head dips low at the instructor in acknowledgment as the late bells tolls and his lesson commences. The barely completed problems are wrenched from my hands from teacher’s pet as I slump into a lonely seat far from anyone else. Shaky hands push my books aside and I rest my head in the pillow of my folded arms.

I try to stay awake and pay attention. I really do, but my thoughts begin to wonder and soon Y = A times the quantity of X + P plus the quantity of X + Q fades into sheer white noise as my heavy eyelids droop and my mind kicks into high gear.

I dream and fantasize and imagine in my slumber but my rest ends all to abruptly when my instructor shouts out my name and demands an answer.

“X = 42 squared.” I bluff without raising my head.

“Nice try,” he mutters and turns his back to me, “Office. Now.” he commands and I obey.

I abandon my writing utensils and such and head for the door with my head down and a silent smile slathered across my face. I bumble with the knob and escape without a word. Garbled notes waft from my pursed lips as I maunder and skip down the hallways glowering in to the classrooms and gawking stupidly at their occupants just to procrastinate a bit before approaching the main office.

Squeaky hinges alert the secretaries to my existence as I enter and they look at me with an odd mixture of anticipation and apathy. I trot over their desk and lean over.

“Gollum kicked me out again.” I announce, smiling as they frown at my use of my teacher’s nickname. “So what’ll I be doing instead of…” I lose my train of thought and sputter a bit as something outside catches my eye.

“What’s that now?” The rounder of the two secretaries asks.

“Nothing,” I reply carelessly, “I’ll see you later, probably at Saturday school.” I mumble as I turn tail and walk out without the slightest of worries about any possible repercussions. Whatever is outside is certainly more important than school anyhow.

“Well I’ll be...”I mutter incoherently as I march out the doors and into a blustery autumn afternoon and an utterly alien shindy. “And here I thought they were only mythical creatures.” I ramble on as I gaze at the pale Pegasi standing smack dab in the middle of the road. "So what's a Pegasus doing around these parts?" I wonder aloud.

“Pegasus?" The alabaster animal questions me. “Why I’m an Alicorn!” The apperantly female Alicorn drops her head low and brandishes a long, spiraled horn that ends in a wicked point.

“So you are,” I agree with the talking, winged, horned horse. “And do you have a name Ms. Alicorn?” I ask calmly as fear and confusion builds within the forefront of my mind.

“Why of course!” She tosses her head sending her long hair of coalescing colors spilling over her shoulders. “I am Celestia, princess of Equestria and bringer of the sun.” she states quite matter-of-factly and with an air of unabashed pride in her title.

“Sure,” I cross my arms and take in the queer sight before me. Looking past her obviously impossible and mythical features I notice the tattoos across her flesh and the tautness of her half outstretched wings. “I assume you’re not from around here.” I attempt to continue what is assuredly the strangest conversation of my life.

“No,” she admits walking a bit closer to me as she does, “To be brutally honest I haven’t the faintest idea where I am or how I…” A sudden expression of understanding graces her and she sighs heavily. “Twilight…”

“No,” I correct her, “It’ll be light out for another five hours or so.”

“Heh,” she chuckles and approaches my once more leaving only a dozen feet between us. “I’m afraid I meant my pupil, one Twilight Sparkle, not the coming of dusk.”

“Ah, I see.” I lie. “So what does one Twilight Sparkle have to do with your unexpected visit here?”

“She may have been the one who sent me here, she quite talented,” She brags, “But lacks full control over said talent which is most likely how I ended up here before you.”

“Could be.” I tilt my head curiously as Celestia bridges the final gap between us and stands directly before me. Her eyes glowing softly pink and her hair quivering in an ethereal breeze. Standing on all four legs she’s just ever so slightly taller than my six foot frame. “So how will you get back to… Equestria was it?”

“Oh I can easily teleport back,” she answers while looking around at her surroundings. “Hmm, I like it here; I may just have to return one day.” She smiles at me and I swear I see her wink. “Until then…” her horn glows brightly and blinds me. I raise a trembling hand to shield my eyes but she’s already gone. “May this token brighten even the most dreary days and darkest nights.” A hollow, haunting whisper wraps around my head and settles in my ears. I blink away the splotches of black and gasp slightly at the object now in my clenched fingers. A soft smile forms as I look at the miniature sun on a golden chain. I slip the present over my head and feel gloriously uplifted as its solid weight comes to rest against my cold chest. I look around once more for any signs of the celestial creature but find nothing more. With a final glance at the glowing globe hanging from my neck I head back in.

“I’m not sure what just happened,” I mumble as I reenter the educational institution, “but it was certainly worth the impending detention.” A few jumbled notes of a mysterious melody come to mind and I hum them gently as I return to the office and await my punishment.

And to think that had I been paying attention in Algebra none of this would have occurred.

Author's Note

The result of insomnia, borderline insanity, and something or other else I guess.

1st hour English 3 Honors- The Class That Started It All Part 1

Morning begins as most do for me; my alarm blaring unnoticed a quarter of an hour after its futile cry arose, my blankets wrapped around either my feet or my shoulder, my torso cold an uncovered, and my mother shouting in annoyance at me to wake while she exits the door on the way to work.

A lazy, aimless slap hits the snooze bar by chance and for a few glorious moments I am left in peace and quiet. Just as a prayer of thanks leaves my drooling lips a worn, old hand brings sudden and unexpected pain to the exposed skin of my lower back. I groan as the stinging sensation radiates throughout my tender flesh and my father chuckles in that deep, low baritone of his.

“You’re eighteen,” he smiles at me when I slowly turn towards him, “It’s about time you learn to get up when the alarm rings.” He chuckles again making the grey streaked whiskers of his untrimmed goatee rustle and pats me gingerly where he had struck me just seconds ago. “When you’re in college I won’t be there to drag you out of bed, you know.”

“I know,” I mutter and sit up, a crumpled blanket falls to the cold linoleum when my legs swing off the side of the bed. “I was getting up, just taking my time.”

“Sure you were,” my father straightens his tie and stands to leave, “Have a good day son, oh,” he turns back to me and frowns a bit, “They’re calling for severe weather warnings and even tornado warnings, something strange is going on with the atmosphere, so drive safe.”

My assurances and farewells follow my father out the door and I toss the last of the tangled sheets off myself. Two roaring engines give me notice of my parents’ departures and I drudge away from the comfort of a soft, cool bed and into a warm shower. Annoyed by poor water pressure and startled by sudden claps of thunder I end my shower early and dress quickly in my usual garb

“Good Goddess,” I pray, “let today go well, the last thing I need is another day of craziness. Praise Eris.” And with that I lumber out to my car, squeeze in, and putter off.

<><><><><>

Asinine drivers, roadblocks, unnecessary detours, and police virtually around every corner mar my drive to school. Silent prayers beg for things to ease up soon but as always they go unanswered. Friends, well, acquaintances say hello and ask how I’m doing, random classmates gasp and gossip about recent actions between two of the more popular students last week, and freshmen shout at the sky and wander aloud if we’ll be given the afternoon off. They should know better, the superintendent wouldn’t call a day of school off even if the world was ending.

A rancid breakfast of sour milk and stale biscuits is scarfed down and I maunder through the crowds of fraternizing youth on a crow’s flight path to my locker. My head stays down but nods to the beat as mesmerizing music pours forth from my earbuds and soaks lovingly into my psyche. The dull bass blocks all thought as muscle memory contorts my fingers and twists a cheap combination lock open. A thin hoodie replaces the thick jacket on my shoulders and a heavy bookbag is traded for two binders and a faded copy of Fitzgerald’s masterpiece. I head for English class.

The hallways empty at the first toll of the bell and I shuffle tiredly to Mr. Dijon’s class, of all my teachers he’s my favorite. Nirvana plays quietly in the background and my fellow students work diligently at avoiding the assignment entirely by texting, chatting, and sleeping. I turn to greet Mr. D but in his usual spot a substitute rests lazily. I roll my eyes and groan in disappointment, talking to Mr. D is one of the few highlights of my day. He’s the only gay teacher in the school, closeted but still, and he smokes like a chimney, weed that is. He’s a pretty cool guy.

I nod in confusion and disgust at the sub, something’s… something’s just not right about him. His clothes don’t match, his eyes are beady and distrusting, his skin hangs loose in some places and stretches tightly over other area. Though his beard is quite impressive.

“You’re late.” He draws the words out and clicks his tongue on the T. “Whyever is that?” he asks with a voice full of venom.

“I’ve a bad leg,” I motion to the mentioned limb and shrug, “It slows me down.”

“Well now, is that my fault?” he rises from the seat and a hand of yellowed and wrinkled fingers to his chin, sharp nails dig into his Fu Manchu and he grins showing his distinct lack of natural teeth. Golden dentures glisten as he launches into a tirade. “What could have possibly injured you so gravely at such a young and tender age that you limp, that you gimp, that you struggle to walk? What disastrous catastrophe, what horrendous incident, what horrible, grueling damage have you endured that has made you lame?”

“I tore my ACL-” I begin to explain but a dastardly cackle interrupts me.

“Your ACL? Your ACL! HAH!” he shouts and clamps a hand to his gut as he doubles over in menacing laughter. “What a shame and here I was anticipating something juicy like a prosthetic or some terminal disease. Oh well, there’s always next hour.”

“The hell is your problem?” I ask while inching away from his face, he’s come far too close to me during his little rant.

“Oh I have so many!” without warning he sprawls across Mr. D’s desk, knocking papers and books off with no regard to their owner, crosses his lanky legs and props his head up with one scrawny arm. The class seems not to notice. “First off there’s the AIDs, who knew, and then there’s the approaching cataclysm, oh, and my brat of a sister but you’re already familiar with her. Well that’s about everything actually.” His gnarly fingers tap against his pointed chin nonchalantly and I stare at him in utter disbelief.

“The sad thing is,” I mutter as i turn away and slouch to my seat, “we’ve had even weirder substitute teachers.”