Humphrey Bogart staggered his way through the backyard, taking extra care not to step on any of the animals running about. It couldn’t be real. He still didn’t believe it.
Horses. Talking horses, for that matter. OK, so that purple one was a technically a unicorn and the yellow one was some kind of a…pegasus? Is that what they were called? But that’s beside the point!
He had to be drunk or dreaming or anything… anything but this! He saw the two of them following him out of the corner of his eye, talking amongst themselves. Maybe… they’re some kind of science experiments or something. Yeah, this is probably some kind of an experimental community like the Island of Lost Souls. But if these were the creatures…then who was Dr. Moreau?
“We are half man, half equine! Throw your clothes into the fire!” Bogart shuttered to himself at that thought. Let’s hope the owner of this perversion of science knew who he was and would let him out of this place. If not, he’d have to force his way out…
The sun beat upon him and with his black tuxedo on, it felt like he was burning up inside. What was wrong with this place? The sun never felt so hot back in California, even in the most humid of summers. It felt unnatural, almost as if the sun had a mind of its own.
Bogart ripped off his tuxedo jacket, threw it on the ground and continued walking.
The two ponies did not speak to him, still wondering what he was. It appeared that they were still talking about him and that the yellow one was examining his jacket. Well, whatever it was they were saying, he wasn’t interested. Best not to get too attached to these horses, lest they steal you away in the middle of the night and cut you open with a scalpel to see what a human heart looks like. Yeah. Ya can’t trust them. Not yet, anyway. They seem nice enough, but remember the old adage of not judging a book by its cover…
After a few minutes of walking and muttering to himself about the situation he was in, Bogart stopped as he bumped into something. He looked up and he saw it. The limousine. It was as black as coal with its front end beat up badly and an enormous branch smashed through the windshield. Bogart ran to the limousine and touched it with his hands. It was real. Bogart quickly opened the back door to see the interior.
It looked like a bomb had gone off. Leaves, branches and even several small birds had made their home in what was, just a few hours ago, a vehicle that was to take him back to his house. Bogart then saw the driver with a broken neck, his head slumped over on the steering wheel and his gray uniform stained and covered in dirt and dust. He was a young man, younger than Bogart certainly. It both depressed and frightened him to see someone go at the prime of their youth.
Bogart opened and closed his mouth several times in shock as another thought entered his mind. Yes, Humphrey. This is a real place. There was no doubting it anymore. Whatever…or wherever this is, it is real. A land where everything fantastic is real and everything real is fantasy.
“Are…are you OK?”
He turned sharply to see the purple unicorn staring at him from outside, her face contorted in that of pure curiosity of what he was in.
“Yeah. Yeah…I…I’m fine.” Bogart replied. He couldn’t afford to lose face, not when he had no idea what these things would do to him.
“Come on. Let’s go back to my house. We’ll talk there.” Twilight said.
“This is just…so…I don’t even know anymore. I…ah, just get me out of here. This is getting too fucking weird for me.”
“While I don’t appreciate the language, I’ll be glad to do so, Mr. Bog Art.”
“That’s Bogart.”
“That’s what I said, Mr. Bog Art.”
Bogart ignored this, said a quick prayer for the dead driver and got out of the backseat. He stepped next to the unicorn, but made sure not to get too close to her.
“W-what was that thing?” Fluttershy asked him, still visibly uncomfortable with the human.
“I---it’s my limo…well, it was, anyway. Poor kid, no one ever deserves that to happen to them.” Bogart sighed and looked down before he realised that he didn’t answer Fluttershy’s question.
“Uh…anyway, a limo is kinda like a car but it’s…wait, you probably wouldn’t know what a car is…well, a car is a vehicle that allows us to be taken from one place to another. It’s like a train, but you drive it yourself and it’s smaller and…wait, do you have trains?”
The two horses nodded.
“My God, you really are advanced little things! Trains and everything. But no moving pictures. Heh. Well, I’m off to see if this place has got anywhere that I can find a phone and call up the studio.”
The two horses looked quizzically at him. Bogart ignored this and began walking left in an attempt to get away from these creatures before he realised that he had no idea where he was going. He could run into anything. If there were pegasi and unicorns in this land…what other creatures could he run into? Stuck in a Hobson’s choice, Bogart stopped to think before he turned to Twilight.
“Um…on second thought, why don’t you take me to where you live?”
He knew now that it wasn’t a dream or a hangover-induced vision or anything. It was real. But why was he here? How did the horses get like this? Where is this place?
A million different questions struck his mind and he had to ask them sometime. He figured he’d ask them at the unicorn’s house, wherever it was. Bogart was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice the town up ahead.
“Well, here we are, Mr. Bog Art. Welcome to the town of Ponyville!”
Humphrey looked up from his thoughts to see the Saxon-esq village, just across a short bridge.
It looked like something straight out of a medival tapestry, with thatched houses, vendors selling their goods and the general hubbub of a Tuesday morning marketplace. It appeared that the inhabitants of this land WERE horses after all, thus shooting down his Dr. Moreau theory.
“Holy mother of God. It’s the land of the houyhnhnms!
“No, this is Equestria. We don’t know of anypony called the houyhnhnms.”
“Do they live another part of Equestria?”
“Ah, right, neither of you wouldn’t know because…right. Not used to this.” Bogart said. He stared at the town for a long time, soaking it in. It seemed like something out of a fairy tale…by logic, these types of homes went out hundreds of years ago on Earth and yet, here they are. This didn’t bode well for the horses being advanced.
“Um…Mr. Bog Art? I should tell you, that…the ponies have never seen anything like you. I’m into science and Fluttershy’s used to taking care of strange animals but others might react… differently.”
“Ah, don’t sweat it, kid. I’m a Hollywood actor. I’m used to having people stare at me in the streets.”
Nonetheless, the ponies did stare at him in the streets, not for the usual reasons of idolizing and a chance to meet a famous celebrity but in shock and awe over this…thing. He heard some of them say things to each other:
“Where’s his cutie mark?”
“It’s so…ugly!”
“What’s wrong with his hooves?”
“Why is he walking on his hind legs?”
It made Bogart feel uncomfortable and there was only one way to calm down. Fishing inside of his pocket, he felt a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He counted the cigarettes in the packet. Seven. Unless these horses knew how to cultivate tobacco, he’d have to ration them. Pulling one out, he lit it as quick as a flash and stuffed the lighter back in his pocket. He needed this to relax. Oh, GOD, he needed this so bad…
“What’s that?” Twilight said, noticing the cigarette in Humphrey’s mouth.
“Huh?” Bogart turned around, having been distracted from his temporary bliss.
“That thing you have in your mouth. It looks like a twig.”
“Nah, it’s a cigarette. I use it to relax when I’m nervous.” Bogart said as he puffed on it, showing them how to make smoke circles.
“Is it good for you?”
“Well…I wouldn’t say that…but…”
“Then why do you use it?”
“…It’s complicated. Besides, lots of people use them where I come from.”
As uncomfortable as the staring was, Bogart found it amusing to see some of them faint at the sight of him. “If only they knew that girls would do the same thing…heh, I guess people are alike all over.” he thought to himself.
He tried waving at some of them, who merely stared at him. Some of the smaller ones waved back which caused Bogart to grin at them and in turn they grinned back. Kids. They didn’t see anything wrong with him. To them, he was just a funny looking pony.
“Well, Mr. Bog-Art. Here we are.”
Humphrey looked up to see a tree-house, the kind that children would make in the suburbs, stretching out before him. A small sign on the door adorned with an oil painting of a book seemed to indicate that this was a library.
Bogart turned to look at the bustling street. He shook his head in wonder and amazement. The homes, the inhabitants...it was too much.
“Weird! Yeah, that’s the word for it. Weird.” He thought to himself before he entered the library, thinking about how in the hell would he get out of here.