//------------------------------// // Part 1: Diamond Tiara // Story: Which Pony Shall I Be Today? // by deadpansnarker //------------------------------// Pink hooves on a quadruped frame... richly scented purple and white mane... wealthy, austere surroundings. Yup, suffice to say this is most definitely not my life. Or body. Or house, which is the only disappointing part. Considering I'm equine now though, this must be the most ornate stable in the world. What in the hell did I take last night to hallucinate so badly? MDMA, mixed together with a healthy portion of shoe polish would be my guess. Last time I use Dodgy Derek again as a dealer... you'd thought I'd have learned by now, 'the clue is in the name'. Uh oh. No time to contemplate the absurdity of my predicament right now. A giant, hook-nosed creature comes bustling into my line of vision, with fur that's a similar hue to mine, albeit darker. "Diamond Tiara!" She barks like a seal, wasting no time in elevating my noticeably smaller physique from where I lie to face her grotesque visage. "Why are you still lolling about?! Today's the day we take our Hearth's Warming card photo to send out to all the nobility! I've picked out the most delightful festive outfit for you... a cutesy, wutesy little Breezie. You'll love it, because I love it..." I didn't grant the wretched beastie keeping me restrained one more microsecond, to torture my now pointed ears with that foghorn of a voice. Nor did I care about 'Hearth's Warming Day', or what the heck a 'Breezie' was. All I knew is I was under attack by a bigger, stronger bully, and immediately regressed to the days of the schoolyard. I bopped her right on the schnoz. Come on, we're talking about a target the size of Jupiter. Also, substitute 'bopped' for 'full blooded karate kick'. It had the desired effect, and then some. She dropped my diminutive, flailing form back onto the goose-feather mattress, and went off screaming blue murder, holding her bloodied nostrils while shrilly yelling "Filthy! Filthy! Our daughter's gone crackers!" "I'm not your child, you vile horse demoness!" I shouted as she departed, determined to set her straight. "I'm a 20 year old human from England, the United Kingdom, Brexit capital of the world! And I'm not 'filthy', either... unless, you're talking about my thoughts while perusing the lingerie catalogue..." My touching soliloquy was interrupted by the dawning realisation of my new intonation, which resembled the haughty speech patterns of the most pompous, self-entitled brat to ever walk the Earth on two... no, four legs. Also, I was a girl. Ugh. And think you've had bad mornings... Another unforeseen distraction came in the shape of an elderly-looking purple male butler-type pony, who'd stood in the threshold as I'd lashed out at my aggressor. With one bushy white eyebrow raised thoughtfully, he'd waited until the hubbub was over, before giving me an supportive thumbs-up... Well, maybe he would if he possessed any digits. Let's call it a hoof-up. Still, at least now it looked like I had one ally in this batty, barmy world I'd been foisted into. Please let the nightmare be over soon... Speaking of grim apparitions, something ugly this way comes. My geriatric friend from before swiftly makes himself scarce, as once again in trots my irate 'mum', looking even more hideous now with her face all screwed up in anger. Accompanying her this time is a robustly built brown stallion, quite absurdly wearing a business tie. If I wasn't so freaked out right now, I'd be rolling all over the plush carpet with unbridled (get it?) laughter. "Now, now young filly..." His laboured voice conveyed the trauma of someone who'd suffered greatly. Considering who he was married to, I'm not surpris... wait, ponies wed here?! Last train to Crazytown. Only occupant: me. He continued, oblivious to my rapidly disintegrating mental state."I know your mother can be a hoofful..." So, they substitute 'hand' for 'hoof' here. Gotcha. "But that's no reason to give her a bloody muzzle! Celestia knows, I've been tempted on more than a few occasions to raise my hooves, but I've always managed to hold back, and you should too. We both have to live with her, be fair now..." "Filthy!" The magenta monster stirred once more, clutching a perfumed hankie to her still-flowing nose, audibly grinding her teeth at the uncooperative patter she'd witnessed from her beloved. "R-Right, r-right..." My 'Dad', otherwise known as Filthy, began to compose himself into a more formal mindset. "Okay, Diamond Tiara. I have decided on your punishment for the outrageous offense of pummeling your mother's proboscis. Let's say... one week's grounding. I-Is that sufficient, S-Spoiled?" He finished his sentence by nauseatingly grovelling to his wife, which made me simultaneously want to throw up, before telling him to man-up. Or, pony-up. Whatever. "Hmm... it's a start..." Spoiled (if a name ever fit...) murmured, somewhat sated by what she'd just heard. "But I think we can go even further. How about... a month on lockdown, a ban on seeing those new friends of hers who I expect encouraged this errant behaviour in the first place, and..." At this juncture, Spoiled's narrow eyes sparkled, and I swear I could hear a supervillain's laugh behind her repellent smirk. "...We should confiscate her precious tiara, just to show we mean business. Go on dear, get it from her. If you do this for me, I'll let you sleep on the sofa downstairs tonight. Do we have a deal?" Spoiled acted as though this sanction would have a major impact on me, but unlike the previous occupant of this body, I didn't give a hill of oats for no dumb jewelry. Her groundless threat did, on the other han... hoof, help me to understand where I got my new name from. Quickly evading my 'father's' desperate lunge, I rounded them both up like cattle to deliver something of a tirade. "You christened me... after an item of headwear?" I snarled, according both my 'parents' such a disparaging glare they could only stare back in abject shock. "Some guardians you two are! Spoiled, with your incessant demands and manipulative nature! Filthy, you're nothing but an enabler for her abusive ways! The only animal round here with any sense is the old guy..." I turned to wink at the now trembling form of the ma-ponyservant hiding behind the threshold, noticing for the first time his collar was hoof-stitched with the moniker 'Randolph' (finally, someon-pony around here with a halfway normal-sounding name). He however, had a petrified look on his wrinkled face which approximately translated as 'don't drag me into this', and I realised, yet again, I was on my own. Thanks, pal. Also, my 'parents' were beginning, with some justification, to get a little concerned for my well-being. To say the least. "She appears to be a teensy bit delirious, poor darling..." Filthy shook his head sadly at his 'daughter's' plight.. "She's absolutely cuckoo! Stark-raving bonkers! It comes from your side of the family, I'd wager..." The ever-compassionate Spoiled, as per usual, refused to mince words. "Oh, what shall we do. She's never acted this way before..." Filthy wailed, having little experience of mental breakdowns, despite being close to one on numerous occasions. "I'll never be able to show her off to high society now, unless it's in a cage at the circus..." Spoiled groaned, seeing her future hopes dissipate like her good looks growing up. "Wait just a second... I've got an idea..." Filthy began to scratch his chin deep in thought, while his eyes darted from left to right conspiratorially. I didn't like the looks of this... "We'll have to keep her locked in the cellar... sneak her meals in three times a day... oh, the shame of it all!" Spoiled continued to sob, streams of watery mascara running down her damp cheeks. "Pull yourself together mare, and listen!" Filthy put on his big boy pants for a change, grabbing his nonplussed wife to deposit her in a huddle of two. I would say I was proud of him for showing such uncharacteristic assertiveness... ...But I was too disconcerted from the snippets I heard emanating from the duo's not-so-private discussion: "...Doctor... Padded Cell ...Sister ...Screwball ...Injection... Extended Stay..." I'd eavesdropped enough. It was difficult already waking up in a kooky alternate dimension populated by anthropomorphic pastel ponies, but to be thought of as the insane one, amongst all this madness? That was the last straw (note to self: stop making horse puns). I galloped out of there like Red Rum at his peak (...damn), knocking over poor old Randolph in the process and probably fracturing his hip in several places. Sorry pal, ya shoulda stuck up for me earlier. The plaintive cry of my 'father' "Anypony who catches my daughter gets a raise!" carried little actual threat, as the majority of the hired help were simple maids, more used to cleaning and scrubbing than snaring an elusive pink blur. Regardless, I descended the golden staircase, and somehow managed to push open the massive double-doors of the mansion with my fingerless joints to get the heck out of Dodge. Unfortunately, in my haste to escape, I failed to spot the big, red, moving lump in front of me pulling a cart, until it was too late. Haven't these ponies ever heard of traffic ligh... I'm guessing not. As I felt my eyes begin to flicker and my consciousness start to shift, my last impressions were that of the many worried pairs of eyes lingering over my prostrate form and a brief image of a charming little rustic town. ...Or, as I now instinctively knew, my new home. Darn it.