Hey, let's go to weird places, shall we? · 3:19pm Sep 22nd, 2017
It smelled hot and unpleasant, like semen-soaked sheets with hot sauce and a side of thunderstorm. Yam couldn’t believe that he was about to do this and every burro present was giving him a curious, expectant look. He had been warned that it was hot, this concoction was as hot as the fires of Tartarus and consuming this sludge would feel an awful lot like dying. Supposedly, this stuff in the bowl, whatever it was, would be so hot that his spirit would step out of his body to escape the burn, and he would find himself elsewhere.
“Go on, Yammy, be a hero,” Azure whispered.
He sniffed the wooden bowl, cringed, and had some second thoughts. It was woody, musty, and the fumes made everything on his face burn. Would burro magic even work for ponies? He was feeling lightheaded and his vision was already starting to play tricks on him, as the light in the cellar around him continued to warp. Remembering his instructions, he thought about Honey Dew and how important it was to find her.
“I’ve never been the hero type,” he whispered back to the beautiful burro beside him. “Babe, I’m known as the soft boiled detective. I like living. Not too keen on dying.”
“You’re the bravest pony I know, Yammy—”
He shook his head from side to side. “No I ain’t.”
In response, she made a dismissive wave with her hoof. “You faced your parents—”
“And they disowned me for marrying you. And that’s the reason why we stay poor and have nopony to turn to for help. And that is why our lives have a terminal case of suck. And most of my previous contacts blotted me out of their little black books and I got blacklisted from pretty much every reputable agency and now I have to work as an independent.” As the last word left his mouth, Yam regretted saying it, because he could see the anguish on Azure’s eternally pretty face.
“And you were very brave to give all of that up,” she said, breathing out the words in muted whisper. Reaching out with her hoof, she placed it on the side of Yam’s neck. “Bottoms up, Yammy. You be a hero and I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You make loving fun,” he responded, and then he raised the wooden bowl to his lips.
Somehow, it tasted even worse than it smelled and it burned like battery acid going down. Yam couldn’t breathe no matter how hard he tried, it just burned too much and any attempt to breathe seared his lungs. Meanwhile, his tongue was making valiant escape attempts, trying to leap out of mouth and thrashing against his teeth. A terrific pressure built up behind his eyes and it was as if his brain was swelling up too large to fit into his skull.
“Yammy, are you okay?” Azure asked and her voice was stretched out like a record player playing far too slow. “Your nose is running quite a bit.”
His nose was running? He was pretty sure that his face was melting. That wasn’t snot dribbling down, no, it was him. His face. With this dreadful awareness, he didn’t dare sniffle or snort, lest he suck his entire face up into his nostril and vanish forever, leaving him faceless. How would he kiss Azure if he sniffle-snorted his face up his nose?
Thoughts of his parents intruded into his mind, wrecking his focus. They had wanted him to be a respectable yam farmer, like them, and becoming a detective had really cheesed them off. The yam farm was pretty much the most boring place on earth, and Yam had seen a number of really boring places during his time in the Fancy Foreign Legion. He had once guarded a well, and that had been pretty boring, right up to the point where it wasn’t and desert raiders had tried to kill him for a drink of water.
Why oh why had he drank the dreadful demon semen? The heat only seemed to be growing worse, gaining intensity, and a truly vile aftertaste crept up the back of his throat. Perhaps a squeeze of citrus might have improved the flavour, but then he would have been stuck drinking lemon demon semen. He started to protest, but his bones betrayed him. Everything went soft, squishy, and his body was supported by a network of noodles.
“I’ve gone pasta the point of no return,” he mumbled to Azure as the fear began to grip him.
Making a heroic effort, Yam Spade focused upon Honey Dew as reality decided to blow a raspberry.
There was a distinct sensation of being poured out of a faucet and into something else that wasn’t anything at all like a glass. This new reality seemed thick, kludgy, and Yam struggled to adjust. Upon opening his eyes in his new body—and he had a great many eyes to open—he found himself looking at a flute-bearing sunflower, which was looking back at him.
“Who the fronk are you?” Yam asked as the sight of the sunflower unnerved him.
“We are Princess Celestia’s Singing Sunflowers,” one replied while waving a flute around, “and we are on our way to torment Rainbow Dash.”
This response filled poor Yam with dread. “Woah, why is that?”
“Because Princess Celestia remembers Cloudsdale,” was the smart, curt reply.
“We’re all so unbearably cute,” said another.
“Grotesque.” Yam shook his head, hoping to clear his vision, but the sunflowers did not go away. Straining, he focused on Honey Dew once more, and all around him reality smeared over like a hoof passing over a still-wet painting. The singing sunflowers became blurred, distorted, and he tried to say something else about the passive-aggressive nature of sunflowers, but he was already being poured through a faucet once more.
This chapter has been fun to write.
I died laughing! Can't wait to see the full chapter.
Hm it is a common metaphor... and obviously works with us reader, but do they have wet lead batteries in this world?
4675501
Yes they do.
Weird places? This is the internet. What weirder place is there?