Aloneby SyringedChaptersChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 1“BRING IT ON RAIN!! YOU CANNOT STOP ME!!!! MUAHAHA!!” What did I drink last night? Well, I remember something along the lines of nearly empty wine bottles at the back of some fancy restaurant in New York. Yeah, I’m digging through garbage cans in New York. How did my life come to this? I had such a bright future! I had straight As! I was rejected by about five girls for the Winter Formal Prom! I was just another scrub on the school band! What the hell am I talking about? How drunk am I?! I stumble through the wet paths of Central Park. My legs give way and I fall to the ground with a splash. I don’t bother to get up. Why should I get up? There is no point to keep living. Animal Control in five states are out for my blood, the government is tailing me, and worst of all, I’m alone. Alone in this shithole of a country. Is this not supposed to be the land of the brave, home of the free, or something…something…something like Liberia? Liberty, that’s the word. Or something. I mean look at me! I’m a grey horse! I’ve got dark grey hair, or mane! I’m wearing a freaking bow tie and I’ve got a tattoo of a treble clef on my butt! I push myself up with shaky legs and look at my reflection in the puddle I landed in. Man, I look so cute. NO! I cannot be attracted to myself! But I look so— SMACK Did I seriously just slap myself? Screw conscious thought. I’m too drunk. Who knew only about 20 near empty wine bottles could get me drunk. Good thing I didn’t let it go to waste. This is low. Digging through garbage for sustenance. So, let’s go back and see how the duck I got here. I wonder if I can rent a Delorean time machine from Hertz? I woke up to the sound of rain, pitter-pattering on the lone window in my room. The rain fell particularly hard, as if it was trying to make a point to us. Living in Nashville meant it rained. And I mean it rained. Sometimes, I felt like it was always raining. Sure, I like rain, it makes me feel like I’m alive, but it still disrupted my sleep. I rolled back over and stuffed my head under my pillow, trying to block out the annoying tapping of the rain. The rain won out though, the constant tapping finally driving what little sleep I had in me out. I looked to my right, my alarm clock saying that it was 8:37 in bright green numbers. I was late for school, by about one and a half hours. I never did sleep through my alarm, but there’s a first time for everything. Panicking, I flailed around, trying to drag myself out of the mess of blankets that I had wrapped myself in overnight. But instead of actually getting out of bed blanket-free, I roll off the side of the bed and end up on the floor in a heap of limbs and blankets. I’ll have to say, it was a pretty good start to the day, considering what was going to happen to me later. Anyways, I tried to get up off the floor, but I lost to the bastard we call gravity. I fell back onto the cold floor with a dull thud. Unfazed by the difficult task at hand, I pushed my dark grey hair out of my face and reattempt to get up. That wasn’t right. If I remember correctly, my hair was a brown color, and it didn’t go past my face. Something was definitely wrong. I groped around me, trying to find that blasted lamp in the darkness of the early morning. After about five minutes of mindless grabbing of air, I finally find the power switch on my lamp, and light filled the room. My eyes were still accustomed to the darkness of night, so the lamp blinded me. I was forced to shut my eyes to prevent temporary blindness by bedside lamp. Slowly, I was able to open them, letting light ease into my eyes. Finally, I was able to see without getting blinded by my own bedside lamp. I stretched, groaning as my limbs protested against the harsh movement. I looked around my room, spying my instrument case housing my clarinet for band, my desk completely swamped by papers that still need completing, and my Apple laptop sitting in its place on my bookshelf. I then decided looked over to my full-length mirror hanging from my bedroom door. And what I saw made me jump back and scream like a little girl. I was at a loss of words to describe what I saw. There was a…horse thing that stood at about 3 feet tall, and was light grey. Her hair was a dark grey, and she was wearing a bowtie. Weirdest thing was that there was a treble clef symbol right in the middle of that thing’s…flank? Coincidentally, I blinked, and she blinked. I opened my mouth, and she did the same. My face then formed a look of mortal terror. And she had the same look. I looked down, and saw two grey stumps. And I was out like a light before I hit the ground. I came around again a bit later. I found myself in a heap on the floor, lying on a pile of blankets. I rubbed my face and massaged my temples. “Oh god…what a nightma…” I stopped at the sound of my voice. Instead of the voice of a 16 year old male, I heard the voice of a female. I started giggling like I was insane, but then again, maybe I am. I thought that it was a dream, although that would be illogical since not 30 seconds ago I thought woke up from a “dream”. Now, a human is supposed to have hands right? I opened my eyes and instead of a pair of hands, I see a pair of hooves. Panic building up inside me again, I looked back at my mirror, and I jumped back in terror. The thing looked slightly familiar. I wracked my brain, trying to find out where I have seen that before. It was a cartoon character…from the show…My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. The character was…Octave? Octavias? Octiavio? Octavia! Yes, it was Octavia! Just another tidbit I received from the internet. I myself wasn’t a fan of the show. The animation was good, I’ll admit that, but it just was not my thing. I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. I stood there, absolutely dumbfounded at the sight. Then my brain decided to flip the table, slap me across the face, and scream “Dude, you’re a fucking pony!” And it worked. Reality came crashing down on me as I realized the horrible truth. I was a pony. A character from a show for little girls. Crazy thoughts then swirled through my distraught brain; the following is a small sample. What’s the government gonna do to me?! What are they gonna do, gut me and perform sickly experiments on me?! Put me into a containment center as another one of those SCP things?! I could see the headlines now. NEW SETINENT HORSE-LIKE CREATURE FOUND! Excruciating experiments to be performed on creature to find out where it has come from! I was getting a bit ahead of myself, I’ll admit it, but I was panicking! I went from being a 6’1” human being to a 3’ horse! And I turned FEMALE! Life is unfair, unfortunately. It is extraordinarily unfair. To make matters even worse, I heard footsteps coming towards my room. “Life, you can take your crap and shove it.” I said, listening to my now classy and elegant sounding voice. One good thing I got outta this was getting a sophistcated voice. The doorknob on my bedroom door jiggled a bit. I panicked for the umpteenth time that day. What was I gonna do? Should I hide, or show myself? Was I gonna sprint for it when the door opens? The door creaked, and I made a questionable split second decision. I stood there, in plain freaking sight. It was arguably the worst decision I have made in my entire life, and I once decided to parkour through downtown Nashville. The door swung open and there was my older sister, who was texting away on her phone, standing at the doorway. Author's Note I updated the first chapter after I determined that the way I was going to write this would be way out of my style of writing. Comedy and drunkness for the win. Please comment on areas that could use improvement. Critisism is always welcome. Chapter 2Now, a few odd things happened. She looked up from her phone, and saw a pastel horse standing not three feet away from her. She just stared at me, her brain not comprehending the sight. I didn’t do much else, other than just stare right back. Her left eye twitched ever so slightly, kinda like someone from an insane asylum. Her phone slipped out of her hands. It hit the floor with a dull thunk, and she didn’t make a move to pick it up. Odd. She could never put down that thing, even when I threatened to go on her facebook and spam all her friends with random links to ads about Netflix and Nationwide. She just stood there, unmoving. I’m pretty sure her brain just went “Fuck this” and jumped ship. And in her dumbfounded state, I did another really bad move. I opened my mouth. “Don’t freak out. Please don’t.” I begged. The broad didn’t listen. She flipped her shit. She just grabbed every damn thing in her reach and just chucked it at me. And that girl has quite the stroke. I ducked, narrowly avoiding a textbook taking my head off, and forced all my muscles in my arms…legs…limbs and shoved myself under my bed. Not the best place to hide, but it did the job. My batshit crazy sister couldn’t try and bludgeon me over the head with my clarinet this way. I heard more crashing and smashing and see…everything ending up on the floor. My laptop, all my school papers, and other stuff that I never really remembered I had. I then heard my sister scream “MOM” and hear her footsteps as she ran out of the room. Ohthankyouwhoeverisupstairswatchingthis. I somehow squeezed myself out from under my bed. I stood back up and scream “YES!” Victory quickly turned to ash in my mouth as I looked around the room. It was trashed. It looked like a hurricane went through this place. What the hell did my sister do? That was the least of my problems. How the fricking hell do I walk? Making me learn how to walk all over again. Oh life, you are such a funny thing. Fuck you. Like an idiot, I thought relearning how to walk would be easy. I’ve seen how animals walk on Discovery channel. It should be easy. Left, left, right, right? It sounded good in my mind, as I moved what I thought was my left front limb. “Left” I said as I moved my limbs. “Right, lef-oof!“ Did anyone actually vacuum the floor in my room? ‘Cuz it reeked. I pushed myself back up and tried again. Attempt number two. Left, right, left, right. I moved my left foreleg and oh my god, I didn’t trip. I then moved my back right leg, and I didn’t trip! My moral went through the roof as I move my left foreleg. I tripped. What was that about my moral? Never mind, I had none. I tried again, thought I felt like I was close to giving up. Attempt number three. Fuck everyone’s shit and fly. … Desperate situations called for desperate measures. A few other attempts were along the line of ‘crawl on your back like you have an itch on your back’ or ‘walking like you’re swimming freestyle’. All my attempts at learning how to walk, or just propel myself in a direction of choice in an efficient manner made quite the racket. I heard footsteps outside my door while I was on my fifth attempt at walking, and my mom walked in to see a pastel horse propelling herself with her forelegs while dragging her ass on the floor. Still need someone to tell me what I had the night before. My attempt at walking was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream. Next thing I knew, I was forcefully introduced to Mr. Frying Pan. Such a caring and responsible mother. Every mom should follow her example. Throw a frying pan at your own child is the best way to raise him. God that hurt! I felt something warm and wet flow down my face. I reached up to my muzzle and rubbed my hoof over my nose. I pulled it back and saw blood. Bright red blood. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I tried to fight through the pain. I tried to get up again, and through squinted eyes, I saw my laptop flying towards me. My laptop. Oh all the things you could throw, you had to throw my laptop?! It hit me like a brick, hitting the side of my face. I’m pretty sure I saw the whole cliché stars swirling around my head. It was starting to get dangerous, as my mom just grabbed every heavy object in the vicinity and started chucking it at me, all while screaming incoherent gibberish. I think I picked up “get away” and “raccoon”, but I got the memo. Get. The. Flip. Outta. Dodge. I somehow got to my feet…or hooves and narrowly ducked another textbook whizzing over my head. When my mother went to pick up another object to chuck, I scrambled for it. I went left, leaping over the mess in my room like a reindeer. Seeing my jet black clarinet case ahead, I jumped and used it as a launching pad to propel myself up through the window. Glass shattered around me as I busted through the window. Thank God it worked like it did in the movies. A searing pain shot through my left foreleg as I fell from the top floor of my house. I looked down, and whoop-de-doo, there’s blood. I’m pretty sure I severed an artery, but nothing severe. I felt faint as I plummeted like a rock. I looked up…or down and saw the green grass of my front yard coming up fast to meet me. Oh shit. Who left all the gardening tools outside? Author's Note Alright, so I feel more comfortable writing comedy than sad or tragic stuff, so I changed this to comedy. I'm no expert though, so let's see how this goes, shall we? Anywho, please tell me the good, the bad, and the areas of improvement, because constructive critism will help me become a better writer. Now if you will excuse me, I'm gonna get high off my Vintage Kritzkreig. Peace out. Chapter 3“Well this can’t get any worse.” I said while falling from the second story window towards my impending doom. Three things were floating around in my head. A: I’m boned. B: This nightmare will hopefully end and I will wake up to the sound of my alarm clock playing Jonny B. Goode. C: I’m so boned either way. Brilliantly done Mom, why aren’t you as paranoid as Dad? I could just see him saying, “Honey! Don’t leave the gardening tools outside overnight! Someone might fall on them and get blood all over the flowers!” I chuckled at my imaginary dad’s paranoid remark. Then I realized that the blood splotch in my head was probably gonna be me. Maybe I should’ve thought of bracing myself for impact instead of making ridi- THUNK Wheel…barrow… ============================================================================================= Pulling one’s self out of a wheelbarrow is not fun. Certainly it would have been easier if blood wasn’t pouring out of my left arm…leg like soda pours out of a soda can somebody shook while doing the Macarena. One experience I would like to forget. I pushed with all my strength, and I think I heard something pop. Ouch. I still managed to push my pathetic self out onto the grass, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I hate life. Surely life must have hated me more. My mom AND my sister came out of the patio wielding a shovel and a rake, respectively. Wow, that must have been the first time I saw my sister hold a landscaping tool. Figures it when she wants to use it on me. Alright you pathetic waste of space, move your butt unless you want to be sushi six feet under! I bolted, ignoring the stinging and the blood dripping down my face. I narrowly avoided a shovel at the left, and a rake to the face, and bolted for the side gate. Wait, how am I supposed to open it? I skidded to a stop and stared up at the giant wooden door standing between me surviving the women, and me getting some. The other kind. I heard battle cries behind me and saw the two pissed off women flinging themselves at me. I ducked. Ducking seems to always work. Just like in those cartoons I used to watch. They flew right over me and obliterated our side gate. See, ducking always works. Hasta la vista bitches! I run over their groaning bodies and bolted down the street. Now if my memory serves me right, there was a little hole in my neighbor’s patio that I used to hide in. I’m pretty sure I hid a few cookies and whatnot in there last time I was in there. That was about…6 years ago? …. I crawled into the little space beneath my neighbor’s white patio. I barely found the entrance between her creepy cat statues and her robe bushes. Man, when was the last time she trimmed those? I crawled in there and burrowed myself into the dirt. Project ‘Get away from my crazy family’ complete! Now time to tend to my wounds. Let’s see…deep cut on left foreleg, minor cut on head, maybe a dislocated knee, and rose thorns in ass. Everything went better than expected. Now about those cookies I hid, I dug into the dirt, and viola! There they were, still in that little plastic baggie I left them in. They were a little moldy, and a few dead bugs were on them, but it’s still a cookie. Down the hatch. ….. Those cookies tasted a little weird, but weren’t all that bad. Hopefully I don’t get tapeworms. Now would be a good time to pull these thorns out of my butt, I remembered seeing dogs licking their hind legs and whatnot using their tongue. Can horses do that? One way to find out. I strained my neck and bent my head all the way back, trying to reach the thorns embedded in my butt. How degrading. I pulled out the first thorn with my teeth, and screamed in pain. One down, another 200 to go. …. I think I fell asleep after thorn 156. Whenever it was, I was awoken by the sounds of a truck pulling up to my house. I poked my head out of my little hidey-hole and plastered on the side of a pick-up truck was ‘ANIMAL CONTROL’. Oh balls. My family sold me out. And the animal control guy was coming towards my little hidey-hole. I was so screwed. The animal control guy put a flashlight at the entrance, and the beam struck my face. There I was, for the entire world to see (not really), about to have my freedom taken away and to be tagged by scientist and locked up at the zoo. I hope the food at the zoo is tasty, and hopefully the kiddies won't try to feed me. Who knows where their little dirty niblets have been. While my panic-induced mind was thinking up wild scenarios, the guy from animal control slipped some kind of leash around my neck, and yanked. My airway was cut off suddenly, and I choked. What kind of animal control was this?! I started turning blue as he pulled me out into the sunlight and lifted me into the air by my neck to show my family. Or ex-family. With the last of my consciousness, I lifted one of my forelegs to show them my displeasure, when I realized I didn’t have any fingers. Fuck you, life. Then I blacked out. Author's Note Feedback plox.
Chapter 1“BRING IT ON RAIN!! YOU CANNOT STOP ME!!!! MUAHAHA!!” What did I drink last night? Well, I remember something along the lines of nearly empty wine bottles at the back of some fancy restaurant in New York. Yeah, I’m digging through garbage cans in New York. How did my life come to this? I had such a bright future! I had straight As! I was rejected by about five girls for the Winter Formal Prom! I was just another scrub on the school band! What the hell am I talking about? How drunk am I?! I stumble through the wet paths of Central Park. My legs give way and I fall to the ground with a splash. I don’t bother to get up. Why should I get up? There is no point to keep living. Animal Control in five states are out for my blood, the government is tailing me, and worst of all, I’m alone. Alone in this shithole of a country. Is this not supposed to be the land of the brave, home of the free, or something…something…something like Liberia? Liberty, that’s the word. Or something. I mean look at me! I’m a grey horse! I’ve got dark grey hair, or mane! I’m wearing a freaking bow tie and I’ve got a tattoo of a treble clef on my butt! I push myself up with shaky legs and look at my reflection in the puddle I landed in. Man, I look so cute. NO! I cannot be attracted to myself! But I look so— SMACK Did I seriously just slap myself? Screw conscious thought. I’m too drunk. Who knew only about 20 near empty wine bottles could get me drunk. Good thing I didn’t let it go to waste. This is low. Digging through garbage for sustenance. So, let’s go back and see how the duck I got here. I wonder if I can rent a Delorean time machine from Hertz? I woke up to the sound of rain, pitter-pattering on the lone window in my room. The rain fell particularly hard, as if it was trying to make a point to us. Living in Nashville meant it rained. And I mean it rained. Sometimes, I felt like it was always raining. Sure, I like rain, it makes me feel like I’m alive, but it still disrupted my sleep. I rolled back over and stuffed my head under my pillow, trying to block out the annoying tapping of the rain. The rain won out though, the constant tapping finally driving what little sleep I had in me out. I looked to my right, my alarm clock saying that it was 8:37 in bright green numbers. I was late for school, by about one and a half hours. I never did sleep through my alarm, but there’s a first time for everything. Panicking, I flailed around, trying to drag myself out of the mess of blankets that I had wrapped myself in overnight. But instead of actually getting out of bed blanket-free, I roll off the side of the bed and end up on the floor in a heap of limbs and blankets. I’ll have to say, it was a pretty good start to the day, considering what was going to happen to me later. Anyways, I tried to get up off the floor, but I lost to the bastard we call gravity. I fell back onto the cold floor with a dull thud. Unfazed by the difficult task at hand, I pushed my dark grey hair out of my face and reattempt to get up. That wasn’t right. If I remember correctly, my hair was a brown color, and it didn’t go past my face. Something was definitely wrong. I groped around me, trying to find that blasted lamp in the darkness of the early morning. After about five minutes of mindless grabbing of air, I finally find the power switch on my lamp, and light filled the room. My eyes were still accustomed to the darkness of night, so the lamp blinded me. I was forced to shut my eyes to prevent temporary blindness by bedside lamp. Slowly, I was able to open them, letting light ease into my eyes. Finally, I was able to see without getting blinded by my own bedside lamp. I stretched, groaning as my limbs protested against the harsh movement. I looked around my room, spying my instrument case housing my clarinet for band, my desk completely swamped by papers that still need completing, and my Apple laptop sitting in its place on my bookshelf. I then decided looked over to my full-length mirror hanging from my bedroom door. And what I saw made me jump back and scream like a little girl. I was at a loss of words to describe what I saw. There was a…horse thing that stood at about 3 feet tall, and was light grey. Her hair was a dark grey, and she was wearing a bowtie. Weirdest thing was that there was a treble clef symbol right in the middle of that thing’s…flank? Coincidentally, I blinked, and she blinked. I opened my mouth, and she did the same. My face then formed a look of mortal terror. And she had the same look. I looked down, and saw two grey stumps. And I was out like a light before I hit the ground. I came around again a bit later. I found myself in a heap on the floor, lying on a pile of blankets. I rubbed my face and massaged my temples. “Oh god…what a nightma…” I stopped at the sound of my voice. Instead of the voice of a 16 year old male, I heard the voice of a female. I started giggling like I was insane, but then again, maybe I am. I thought that it was a dream, although that would be illogical since not 30 seconds ago I thought woke up from a “dream”. Now, a human is supposed to have hands right? I opened my eyes and instead of a pair of hands, I see a pair of hooves. Panic building up inside me again, I looked back at my mirror, and I jumped back in terror. The thing looked slightly familiar. I wracked my brain, trying to find out where I have seen that before. It was a cartoon character…from the show…My Little Pony Friendship is Magic. The character was…Octave? Octavias? Octiavio? Octavia! Yes, it was Octavia! Just another tidbit I received from the internet. I myself wasn’t a fan of the show. The animation was good, I’ll admit that, but it just was not my thing. I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. I stood there, absolutely dumbfounded at the sight. Then my brain decided to flip the table, slap me across the face, and scream “Dude, you’re a fucking pony!” And it worked. Reality came crashing down on me as I realized the horrible truth. I was a pony. A character from a show for little girls. Crazy thoughts then swirled through my distraught brain; the following is a small sample. What’s the government gonna do to me?! What are they gonna do, gut me and perform sickly experiments on me?! Put me into a containment center as another one of those SCP things?! I could see the headlines now. NEW SETINENT HORSE-LIKE CREATURE FOUND! Excruciating experiments to be performed on creature to find out where it has come from! I was getting a bit ahead of myself, I’ll admit it, but I was panicking! I went from being a 6’1” human being to a 3’ horse! And I turned FEMALE! Life is unfair, unfortunately. It is extraordinarily unfair. To make matters even worse, I heard footsteps coming towards my room. “Life, you can take your crap and shove it.” I said, listening to my now classy and elegant sounding voice. One good thing I got outta this was getting a sophistcated voice. The doorknob on my bedroom door jiggled a bit. I panicked for the umpteenth time that day. What was I gonna do? Should I hide, or show myself? Was I gonna sprint for it when the door opens? The door creaked, and I made a questionable split second decision. I stood there, in plain freaking sight. It was arguably the worst decision I have made in my entire life, and I once decided to parkour through downtown Nashville. The door swung open and there was my older sister, who was texting away on her phone, standing at the doorway. Author's Note I updated the first chapter after I determined that the way I was going to write this would be way out of my style of writing. Comedy and drunkness for the win. Please comment on areas that could use improvement. Critisism is always welcome.
Chapter 2Now, a few odd things happened. She looked up from her phone, and saw a pastel horse standing not three feet away from her. She just stared at me, her brain not comprehending the sight. I didn’t do much else, other than just stare right back. Her left eye twitched ever so slightly, kinda like someone from an insane asylum. Her phone slipped out of her hands. It hit the floor with a dull thunk, and she didn’t make a move to pick it up. Odd. She could never put down that thing, even when I threatened to go on her facebook and spam all her friends with random links to ads about Netflix and Nationwide. She just stood there, unmoving. I’m pretty sure her brain just went “Fuck this” and jumped ship. And in her dumbfounded state, I did another really bad move. I opened my mouth. “Don’t freak out. Please don’t.” I begged. The broad didn’t listen. She flipped her shit. She just grabbed every damn thing in her reach and just chucked it at me. And that girl has quite the stroke. I ducked, narrowly avoiding a textbook taking my head off, and forced all my muscles in my arms…legs…limbs and shoved myself under my bed. Not the best place to hide, but it did the job. My batshit crazy sister couldn’t try and bludgeon me over the head with my clarinet this way. I heard more crashing and smashing and see…everything ending up on the floor. My laptop, all my school papers, and other stuff that I never really remembered I had. I then heard my sister scream “MOM” and hear her footsteps as she ran out of the room. Ohthankyouwhoeverisupstairswatchingthis. I somehow squeezed myself out from under my bed. I stood back up and scream “YES!” Victory quickly turned to ash in my mouth as I looked around the room. It was trashed. It looked like a hurricane went through this place. What the hell did my sister do? That was the least of my problems. How the fricking hell do I walk? Making me learn how to walk all over again. Oh life, you are such a funny thing. Fuck you. Like an idiot, I thought relearning how to walk would be easy. I’ve seen how animals walk on Discovery channel. It should be easy. Left, left, right, right? It sounded good in my mind, as I moved what I thought was my left front limb. “Left” I said as I moved my limbs. “Right, lef-oof!“ Did anyone actually vacuum the floor in my room? ‘Cuz it reeked. I pushed myself back up and tried again. Attempt number two. Left, right, left, right. I moved my left foreleg and oh my god, I didn’t trip. I then moved my back right leg, and I didn’t trip! My moral went through the roof as I move my left foreleg. I tripped. What was that about my moral? Never mind, I had none. I tried again, thought I felt like I was close to giving up. Attempt number three. Fuck everyone’s shit and fly. … Desperate situations called for desperate measures. A few other attempts were along the line of ‘crawl on your back like you have an itch on your back’ or ‘walking like you’re swimming freestyle’. All my attempts at learning how to walk, or just propel myself in a direction of choice in an efficient manner made quite the racket. I heard footsteps outside my door while I was on my fifth attempt at walking, and my mom walked in to see a pastel horse propelling herself with her forelegs while dragging her ass on the floor. Still need someone to tell me what I had the night before. My attempt at walking was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream. Next thing I knew, I was forcefully introduced to Mr. Frying Pan. Such a caring and responsible mother. Every mom should follow her example. Throw a frying pan at your own child is the best way to raise him. God that hurt! I felt something warm and wet flow down my face. I reached up to my muzzle and rubbed my hoof over my nose. I pulled it back and saw blood. Bright red blood. I felt tears well up in my eyes as I tried to fight through the pain. I tried to get up again, and through squinted eyes, I saw my laptop flying towards me. My laptop. Oh all the things you could throw, you had to throw my laptop?! It hit me like a brick, hitting the side of my face. I’m pretty sure I saw the whole cliché stars swirling around my head. It was starting to get dangerous, as my mom just grabbed every heavy object in the vicinity and started chucking it at me, all while screaming incoherent gibberish. I think I picked up “get away” and “raccoon”, but I got the memo. Get. The. Flip. Outta. Dodge. I somehow got to my feet…or hooves and narrowly ducked another textbook whizzing over my head. When my mother went to pick up another object to chuck, I scrambled for it. I went left, leaping over the mess in my room like a reindeer. Seeing my jet black clarinet case ahead, I jumped and used it as a launching pad to propel myself up through the window. Glass shattered around me as I busted through the window. Thank God it worked like it did in the movies. A searing pain shot through my left foreleg as I fell from the top floor of my house. I looked down, and whoop-de-doo, there’s blood. I’m pretty sure I severed an artery, but nothing severe. I felt faint as I plummeted like a rock. I looked up…or down and saw the green grass of my front yard coming up fast to meet me. Oh shit. Who left all the gardening tools outside? Author's Note Alright, so I feel more comfortable writing comedy than sad or tragic stuff, so I changed this to comedy. I'm no expert though, so let's see how this goes, shall we? Anywho, please tell me the good, the bad, and the areas of improvement, because constructive critism will help me become a better writer. Now if you will excuse me, I'm gonna get high off my Vintage Kritzkreig. Peace out.
Chapter 3“Well this can’t get any worse.” I said while falling from the second story window towards my impending doom. Three things were floating around in my head. A: I’m boned. B: This nightmare will hopefully end and I will wake up to the sound of my alarm clock playing Jonny B. Goode. C: I’m so boned either way. Brilliantly done Mom, why aren’t you as paranoid as Dad? I could just see him saying, “Honey! Don’t leave the gardening tools outside overnight! Someone might fall on them and get blood all over the flowers!” I chuckled at my imaginary dad’s paranoid remark. Then I realized that the blood splotch in my head was probably gonna be me. Maybe I should’ve thought of bracing myself for impact instead of making ridi- THUNK Wheel…barrow… ============================================================================================= Pulling one’s self out of a wheelbarrow is not fun. Certainly it would have been easier if blood wasn’t pouring out of my left arm…leg like soda pours out of a soda can somebody shook while doing the Macarena. One experience I would like to forget. I pushed with all my strength, and I think I heard something pop. Ouch. I still managed to push my pathetic self out onto the grass, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I hate life. Surely life must have hated me more. My mom AND my sister came out of the patio wielding a shovel and a rake, respectively. Wow, that must have been the first time I saw my sister hold a landscaping tool. Figures it when she wants to use it on me. Alright you pathetic waste of space, move your butt unless you want to be sushi six feet under! I bolted, ignoring the stinging and the blood dripping down my face. I narrowly avoided a shovel at the left, and a rake to the face, and bolted for the side gate. Wait, how am I supposed to open it? I skidded to a stop and stared up at the giant wooden door standing between me surviving the women, and me getting some. The other kind. I heard battle cries behind me and saw the two pissed off women flinging themselves at me. I ducked. Ducking seems to always work. Just like in those cartoons I used to watch. They flew right over me and obliterated our side gate. See, ducking always works. Hasta la vista bitches! I run over their groaning bodies and bolted down the street. Now if my memory serves me right, there was a little hole in my neighbor’s patio that I used to hide in. I’m pretty sure I hid a few cookies and whatnot in there last time I was in there. That was about…6 years ago? …. I crawled into the little space beneath my neighbor’s white patio. I barely found the entrance between her creepy cat statues and her robe bushes. Man, when was the last time she trimmed those? I crawled in there and burrowed myself into the dirt. Project ‘Get away from my crazy family’ complete! Now time to tend to my wounds. Let’s see…deep cut on left foreleg, minor cut on head, maybe a dislocated knee, and rose thorns in ass. Everything went better than expected. Now about those cookies I hid, I dug into the dirt, and viola! There they were, still in that little plastic baggie I left them in. They were a little moldy, and a few dead bugs were on them, but it’s still a cookie. Down the hatch. ….. Those cookies tasted a little weird, but weren’t all that bad. Hopefully I don’t get tapeworms. Now would be a good time to pull these thorns out of my butt, I remembered seeing dogs licking their hind legs and whatnot using their tongue. Can horses do that? One way to find out. I strained my neck and bent my head all the way back, trying to reach the thorns embedded in my butt. How degrading. I pulled out the first thorn with my teeth, and screamed in pain. One down, another 200 to go. …. I think I fell asleep after thorn 156. Whenever it was, I was awoken by the sounds of a truck pulling up to my house. I poked my head out of my little hidey-hole and plastered on the side of a pick-up truck was ‘ANIMAL CONTROL’. Oh balls. My family sold me out. And the animal control guy was coming towards my little hidey-hole. I was so screwed. The animal control guy put a flashlight at the entrance, and the beam struck my face. There I was, for the entire world to see (not really), about to have my freedom taken away and to be tagged by scientist and locked up at the zoo. I hope the food at the zoo is tasty, and hopefully the kiddies won't try to feed me. Who knows where their little dirty niblets have been. While my panic-induced mind was thinking up wild scenarios, the guy from animal control slipped some kind of leash around my neck, and yanked. My airway was cut off suddenly, and I choked. What kind of animal control was this?! I started turning blue as he pulled me out into the sunlight and lifted me into the air by my neck to show my family. Or ex-family. With the last of my consciousness, I lifted one of my forelegs to show them my displeasure, when I realized I didn’t have any fingers. Fuck you, life. Then I blacked out. Author's Note Feedback plox.
