You wake up as the warm rays of Celestia’s sun shine through your bedroom window. No, not Celestia’s sun! You narrow your eyes in hatred at the pale imitation hanging outside your window, shackled by logic and physics, shaking your fist at it from the comfort of your bed.
From downstairs, you can smell bacon being fried as your mum cooks breakfast. You lick your lips and pull on the pair of boxers that looks least used as you prepare to start the day.
You are a brony. Or as you prefer to call yourself, an ‘Animated Equine Enthusiast’. Standing in front of the mirror, you flex your toned brony muscles and admire your physique. Like most bronies you are a closet intellectual, spending your time between the appreciation of great works of literature, promoting the ethos of ‘love and tolerance’ through your myriad charity work, and working a twelve hour shift at McDonalds.
“Darling, it’s breakfast time! Num nums!” your mum calls up sweetly. You ignore her, wading through the bin-bags that litter the floor of your bedroom and collapse onto your swivel chair. Your computer sits in front of you, that glorious glowing rectangle through which you experience the full richness of life.
“If only it was real…” you murmur sadly, as you stroke the Fluttershy hugging pillow that sits propped by your desk when it’s not in use. “If only…” You look at your computer and then at the pile of empty Mountain Dew bottles that cover the floor.
What will you do?