“Hurry up, Ari! We’re gonna miss it!”
“Alright, alright,” I shouted over the loud popping of the popcorn on the stove. I moved the pan a bit, making a bit of noise and causing the flames to flicker blue. With great caution, I grabbed the large pink bowl - my family’s popcorn bowl - and dumped the popcorn in. “Ivy, get in here!” I shouted, reaching for the salt and the butter.
I heard my bedroom door close. My best friend Ivy stepped out and made her way into the kitchen to help me prepare the popcorn. Ivy was a kind girl, but was practically my opposite. She had a clear face; I looked a bit like a pizza with eyeballs. Her hair was short, curly, and soft; mine was long, straight, and felt like a bundle of straw covered in rain. But we both got along, for whatever stupid reason. She’s like my soul mate, but not in the sense of a relationship. Ivy pulled the spice cabinet door open.
“What’re you looking for?” I asked.
“Onion powder,” she replied.
I made a face in disgust. Ivy returned the favor by sticking her tongue out. That’s another thing Ivy and I don’t have in common. She likes weird food combinations and I prefer to stick with what I know. Ever tried salt-and-vinegar chips with ketchup? Visit Ivy, and she’ll eat those all day, washing them down with a tall bottle of Faygo. My only exception for weird food combinations was our “group initiation“ snack of Hershey’s milk chocolate and nacho cheese, which was strangely delicious. But onion powder on popcorn was just one of the weirdest things I have ever heard of.
“Nah, let’s just have regular salt-and-butter popcorn. I don’t get that weird way you eat your foods,” I told her, putting a pat of butter - just a smidge - in the bowl. Ivy shrugged, her way of telling me she didn’t care at all.
“Now, shake the popcorn a little bit while I add the salt,” I said, handing her the bowl. Ivy began to shake, the popcorn getting its chance to fly for a second before falling again to reunite with its puffed comrades. Salt fell from the “sky”, raining on the popcorn parachute parade. In due time, the popcorn saw no use to jump for joy and instead remained on the ground, having been weighed down by the sodium-packed precipitation. I snickered a bit at my imagination running wild.
“I am so excited for the premiere,” Ivy squealed.
I nodded in agreement. “I’ve been waiting fifty years for this.”
“But…you’re fourteen.”
“I’ve still been waiting. The off-season for this show is enough to drive me effin‘ batty.” I put the bowl down on the table and reached into the fridge. I grabbed a can of Coke for myself and poured Ivy some of my father’s homemade iced tea into a cup. Ivy was a sucker for my dad’s tea. Ivy picked up the drinks and took them into my room. I followed, carrying the big bowl of popcorn. We sat down on my bed and dimmed the lights.
“You know, while you were taking a century and a half to make the popcorn, I decided to watch some of the new episode,” Ivy said casually.
“You what?!”
Ivy shrugged and repositioned herself in the bed. “Do you want to hear what happened?” Without getting an answer from me, she continued by giving me a bit of a synopsis of the new episode.
“Hush!” I shouted, throwing my hands over her mouth in retaliation. She giggled. Suddenly I felt something wet touch the palm of my hand. I threw my hand back in disgust, rekindling Ivy’s laughter.
“I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t hear anything, I didn’t hear anything!!” I shouted, throwing my hands over my ears. I curled myself into the fetal position and rolled off the bed.
Ivy continued to laugh. “But Twilight Sparkle - “
With expert speed, I jumped up and covered her mouth again. Then, remembering the horrible fate my action had brought before, I pulled my hands away.
That’s another thing, too. While Ivy and I may have our differences (and quite a few at that), we both love this TV show that’s really big on the Internet right now. It was around when we were kids, and we both showed interest in it then. But now, since we’re teens, it’s brought on new meaning to us. Can you guess what show it is?
It’s called My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Alright, laugh all you want, but I am absolutely, 120% serious. It’s pretty awesome, but sometimes it makes me wish I was gone from this world. No, I’m not depressed or anything, but being a human is a slight bit, uh, obnoxious. The fictional land of Equestria, however, seems still and tranquil, the perfect place for me.
I looked down at my watch dramatically. “Oh, oh, oh, Ivy, oh…”
“What is it?”
“I think it’s tiiiiiime,” I moaned.
“Time for what?” She gasped. “Are you pregnant?!”
I laughed. “No, time for…PONIES!”
Ivy cheered and reached for the remote, but just as she extended her arm, the doors to my bedroom closet flung open, making a loud banging sound as they hit the wall. We both gasped. Ivy was convinced that her house was haunted, and I was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, these “spirits” of hers had taken a little road trip.
I stood up and walked towards the closet, getting a closer look. Instead of my usual clothes hanging in color order, there stood a portal. “Don’t go in there!” Ivy shouted, as if she were watching a horror movie. I shifted closer to the closet, jokingly trying to throw myself inside. “Don’t!” she repeated.
Without any previous notice, the portal sucked me in like a vacuum. “Ari!” Ivy’s shouts grew softer and softer as I fell further and further to what appeared to be my doom.