I begged, I pleaded, I whined.  Nothing matter.  Their answer was always 'no.'  And that was, as they say, that.

It really hadn't hit me before I realized how hungry I was.  It wasn't really on my mind that much.  You see, smoking comes with 'triggers.'  Average, normal, everyday things that set off a desire to smoke.  Eating is one of mine.  I have to have a smoke before I dig in to anything.  Have to.  It's not a physical urge, that issue seems to have disappeared with my hunky (fat), Adonis-like (Hephestus-like) body of pure virility (little blue pill).  But the mental part of the addiction was there and man was that thing throwing a temper tantrum.

Then again, so was I.

"Fu-er, buck you!  I need a damn cigarette!"  To hell with adulthood, I needed a smoke!  Two nurses, one of whom I was rather acquainted with due to an unfortunate 'soap based' incident and the other who had delivered food in the form of thatch, were holding my thrashing hooves as still as they could.  I had lost the IV at some point in time.  Must have fallen out of my arm.  No, wait, there it was - jabbing me in the side.  I didn't care.  I think one of the two now holding me had grabbed the tray and put it aside but I couldn't be sure.  I wasn't too worried, how hard is hay to clean up anyway?  The doctor had run out of the room yelling something about a 'sedative' soon after I started to plead for a smoke.

He must know his nic-fits.

"Don't think you can hide your dirty mouth from me, 'Bruce.'  Once the doctor has come back with something to calm you down, we are going to have a long conversation about appropriate responses."  The white nurse had leaned in close and whispered into my ear.  I snapped at her, both figuratively and literally.  Horse bites are nasty, man.

"I am already calm and this is an appropriate response!"  I managed to kick one hoof out from their grasp and started to flail it about.  I was trying to drag myself out of the bed in my rather silly quest to 'find cigarette, kill lungs' but it was a back hoof and was not very keen on the whole 'gripping things' scene.  Why can I grab things with my front hooves but not the back ones anyway?  "I need some semblance of normality!"

The nurses traded looks, though they seemed a might preoccupied to ask.  Probably something about what a 'proper young colt' would do.  Screw that, I was about as proper a young colt as Nicole Kidman ... bad example.  You get what I meant.  Despite my heroic attempts to free myself, it wasn't long until the doctor returned with a syringe in - ew - his mouth?  You're going to stick me with that after where it's been?  That's nasty.  But the two burly looking stallions he entered with seemed to not care very much about my rather vocal protests and the two mares that followed at a discreet distance seemed just as unfazed.  As the needle pierced my flank, I let loose with something I had been wanting to get out all morning.

"Oh fuck all of you."

The thing about sedatives is that they make you calm, sure.  They also remove a huge chunk of inhibitions.  I've been knocked loopy a few times before.  Generally, I find my attitude to be embarrassing to a high degree once whatever drug I'm on wears off.  I was now demonstrating this.  Looking back at it, it's almost like you're watching someone very similar to yourself but with a rather different set of values driving your body for a while.  I didn't think I was any different any of those time either.

I never said I was smart.

"Man, you guys.  You guys.  You're like, great."  With a gigantic dopey smile, I waved at the room in a rather vague manner.  The earth pony doctor, a pegasus counselor that was a way-too-bright shade of green and some off-white unicorn that I think was an administrator of the hospital blinked at me after that outburst.  I had been grumbling and mumbling to myself for a good long while as they held an impromptu meeting at the foot of my bed but I was bored and wanted to let them all know how much I really loved them.

Yes, I am also an extreme lightweight when it comes to drugs.  It was a horse tranquilizer.  True I was a horse, but ... stop ruining my story with your logic.

"You g- you guys are!  You're all concerned and stuff, it's fuckin' gorgeous.  If the rest of the world cared, I don't think I'd have half the problems I have now."  The counselor (I could tell she was a counselor because of all her worried-yet-trying-to-be-reassuring looks she was throwing toward me.  That and they called her 'Counselor Meadows'), her face contorted in a frown, walked over to my bedside.  That made me slightly sad.  Seeing a frowny pony is not a good thing.  I'd have to brighten her day.

"What problems are you having, Bruce?"  The way she said my name, it made me smile.  She didn't stumble or hesitate, she just said it.  Not like someponies I could name that put it in verbal quotes.  Here, here was somepony that could understand.  I just wanted to reach out and kiss her.

Wanted, WANTE- oh, bugger.  I kissed her.  Full on.  With tongue, what the hell?!  Creepy eyes, creepy frown, creepy creepy creepy.

Hindsight is 20/20.  I need a shower.

"Bills, sweet cheeks.  Bills, bills, bills," I rambled a bit after disengaging myself from her lips.  She tasted like cherries, which was really nice.  Distantly, I wondered if ponies really looked as bad as I thought.  Sure, slightly off but a man could get used to it.  Or maybe that was the sodium pentothal they pricked me with.  "Bills and traffic and crazy fucknuts trying to kill me.  They say I'm paranoid but it's not paranoia if they really ARE trying to get me, ya know?"  I winked at her.  She stared at me with her mouth partly open, as she had since I grabbed her head and kissed her.  For some reason, her shocked face made me giggle.  I don't think I remembered kissing her by that point.  I don't think I want to remember kissing her now.  "They want mah SECRIT NAT-SI GOLD!  Ha ha!"

"Wow.  Uhm, Doctor Horse, how much sedative did you give him?"  The off-white pony did not take her pretty blue eyes off of me.  I blew her a kiss in response, causing her to jerk back.

"Probably a bit too much."  Doctor Horse turned back to his conversation, drawing the off-white unicorn with him.  "But see, this is not normal for a colt that age.  Kissing the nurses?  At you?  Cursing, smoking.  To be honest, his vitals suggested he was extremely hungover but I rejected that due to his age.  Now, now I'm not so sure."

"We've ran his appearance through City Hall."  The unicorn magiced (Magicked?  Is that even a word?) a folder up from something outside my line of sight.  As she spoke, she idly flipped through a few pages.  I could make out a couple of pictures but there couldn't be more than three or four.  "No colts of his apparent age or appearance are missing.  We sent some inquiries to Hoofington, Filldelphia and Canterlot but I doubt they'll have much luck.  Missing foals are extremely serious business and only in places near dangerous locales such as the Ever-"

"Hey, fuck you!"  Why was I getting angry?  The counselor, who had been staring at me dumbfounded for a good two minutes, snapped out of her state with a slight gasp.  "I'm thirty two years old, bitch.  Suck it."  Oh, that'd be why I was angry.  They kept getting everything wrong!  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  I waved my forehooves at them before looking at my limbs confused.

"I'm trying to flip you off but it's not very effective without fingers."