"U N C U T l P U S S Y."
Sam awakes face down in the dirt like a paraplegic breakdancer, his ears ringing slightly.
"Fuck was that about?" He asks no one, rolling onto his back and sitting up. "That piece of shit didn't kill me, did it?" Sam ponders as his armor and sheathed sword make sitting up from his current position a bit awkward.
Then he realized he was wearing a full set of fucking armor, with a sword sheathed on his left side and a bow with quiver held in place on his back. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm what the fuck!?" Sam groans as he looks the weapons and armor over. "This is all my Skyguy stuff isn't it?" He says, drawing his bow and turning it over in his hands. "Scopey Dopey Doo, but do I got arrows?" Sam reaches to his back and he grabs at the first thing his hand comes into contact with; a scroll. "No arrows, what is this fucking amateur hour? Who gives a guy a swanky mcspanky bow but no arrows for the damn thing? All I got is this roll of musty ass paper labeled....." His eyes, though unaided by the prescription glasses he usually wears, have no trouble reading the label written on it in plain English. "Scroll of conjure arrows."
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"Guess I should follow the scruffy dirt road and find a town so I can try and get the fuck home. Hey, kinda like a dumb version of the wizard of Oz. Awww, I hate that movie," Sam complains as he starts walking. "With the fuckin dog and that big gay lion. I swear if somebody starts singing or dancing I–
A small orange horse with a hat trots past the biped without a thought, then realizing that what it saw doesn't make any sense, stops in its tracks and turns around slowly as Sam follows suite.
When the two make eye contact, they double take.
"What the hay?"
"What the hell?"
They both take a surprised step back and stare at the one another, an eyebrow raised at the absurdity of the situation.
"Did that horse just fuckin talk?"
"Did that thing just talk?"
The orange horse rubs its chin with a hoof and stares at Sam who scratches his chin and stares right back.
At last, the carrot colored quadruped breaks the silence consuming the moment. "My name's AppleJack, wh-
"Like the cereal?" Sam interrupts immediately, followed by another question. "Or like that nasty shit homeless people and retards drink?"
The horse laughs and points a hoof at the strange creature. "That's the one mister whatever you are." It answers, the feminine voice carrying in an unmistakable Texan accent.
Eyes widening, Sam steps towards the bizarre talking animal. "You're from Texas?"
"Texas?"
His eyebrows hit maximum facial altitude as he continues questioning the citrus colored horse-yokel. "You know, bang mah sister cuz mah uncle-dad told me to..." Sam pauses, holding a finger in the air as he ponders something. "Wait, I'm sorry. I was thinking Utah, not Texas." He corrects himself.
AppleJack bursts out laughing and smacks a hoof across the adjacent foreleg like a human redneck would slap their knee while howling at a particularly funny looking bit of roadkill. "You sure are funny mister—
Now's my fucking chance! I have to tell it it my name is somethin fucking godlike, like Black Hitler or Doctor Jesus! C'mon, I gotta think of somethin good. Maybe something like....
"Sam." He interrupts her, his half smile of optimism leveling out into a flatline expression of regret, if only for a split second.
"Well Sam, you from round' these parts?" AppleJack asks.
Sam shrugs and laughs slightly. "I don't know, where is here exactly?"
"We're right outsida PonyVille right now, and that's in Equestria." She explains, as if the information conveyed wasn't the biggest heap of bullshit nonsense ever uttered.
Yawning, the armored man shrugs again. "Yeaaaaah, I'm fucking lost. There a hotel nearby?"
AppleJack nods, but then jumps up with a wide grin. "Shoot, if you're lookin for a place to stay, why not just come stay at the farm? We got warm beds, clean water, and all sorts a' contrived apple products that nopony really buys!" She offers nicely.
"Sounds pretty good to me," Sam agrees. "But when we get there, I'm going to need a stiff drink. And by a stiff drink, I mean about ten of them."