Trumpets

Chapter 22

   So I walk to Sugarcube Corner in my oh so amazing suit and tie. Need I say it?

   Fuck it, imma do it anyway!

   LIKE.

   A.

   BOSS.

   The pony I'd probably have to talk to is Pinkie Pie, who from what I've been told, is not more then a 12 year old on heroin. Of course, it wasn't said like that. They have no concept of drugs, apparently. Sad. Now is the time I feel I'd start doing drugs.

   Then again, maybe that is the reason I'm here. Maybe it's all an  illusion!

   God, please tell me I'm right.

   ...

   I swear I just heard an extremely silent 'No.'

   Sighing, I skip, not really, to the oh so edible looking bakery. I've tasted a few of the food they've had to offer (at the welcome party in my pony body) and it is fucking amazing. Sex in my mouth.

   Just realized that sounds like oral.

   You know what I just realized aside from that? The pastries are all made from eggs. And I'm no zoologist, but I'm pretty sure ponies are herbivores. Why the fuck do they eat eggs? Chicken embryo, for fucks sake.

   Meh. At least I found a source for protein.

   Midway through the walk, I heard a loud warning of 'Look out!' I should've realized it was geared towards me, as all the other ponies were yards from me. I was pimples to the ground by a pegasus. A cyan Pegasus. With a rainbow mane.

   'member her?

   I slid across the ground face first, eating dirt. Literally. Eating fucking dirt. I tasted a bit of blood in my mouth when I finally stopped, nothing major. But there was damage.

   My new fucking suit.

   Covered in dirt and tears.

   What. The. Fuck.

   I felt fucking ANGRY. This was my new fucking suit, which was boss, ruined by that fucking rainbow pony. Rainbow Dash.

   "The fuck is wrong with you!" I almost yelled as I got up and say the pegasus, favoring a wing.

   "What's wrong with me? You're the one who didn't move when I yelled a warning!" She yelled back.

   "Oh, so it's my fault? Right. Then I guess it's my fault my grandad couldn't get hard after 50, is it?"

   With slight confusion, she spoke and did the thing teen girls do. "Whatever. Are you alright?"

   "Aside from being absolutely LIVID for making me ruin my outfit, I'm fine. You?"

   "I think I pulled a wing," she says, still favoring it.

   I sigh. 'Don't wanna do this. Don't ask. Don't do it...' "Lemme see it."

   GOD DAMMIT.

   So, during middle school when I had parents, I was on a football team. I was told I was a pretty talented tight end. It wasn't super fun for me. Too easy. But one day, when my friend pulled a muscle in his leg, I jokingly massaged it for him, trying to hurt it more (cause imma dick). Instead, when he got up, he said not only was his leg better, it felt better then ever before. Surprised, I tried out some other people (The gay high-point of my life). It turns out, I'm pretty damn good at this shit. So how hard could it be to massage a horse wing?

   Pony, sorry.

   "Uhm..." she seemed unsure. "Why?"

   "I'm gonna fix it"

   "Fix what?"

   "Your wing. You said you pulled it. I think I can fix it."

   "Uh..." her eyes shifted back and forth.

   "I ain't gonna hurt cha or nothing. Just feel it will help you. Plus I'm bored. It'll kill time."

   "Uh, here?"

   "Yea, sure. Why not? It'll be quick, hopefully."

   "Uh, let's not do it here."

   "And why not?"

   "It's.... Just... I gotta go," with that, she flew off, even with the bad wing. It was clear it was off, her flying. I shrugged. 'Fine. Fuck you too then, you rainbow haired clam licker."

   With nothing much else to do (and me sweating like a pedophile in a day care due to the relatively heavy suit, not needing repairs and a cleaning, on this hot day,) I take off the suit jacket, leaving on the hire shirt. I walk the way to the destination I was originally going.

   Sugarcube corner.

   That's right. I make it dramatic by putting that on only one line.

   Yippy-kye-yay, mother fuckers!