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// Hitch Trailblazer and the Quest for Pipp Petal's Love and Affection at 3 a.m. with a Spoon 
// Story: MLP G5 but it's written by me 
// by TPC-2k16 
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Hitch Trailblazer is just peacefully sitting up on his bed, not tired at all. In fact, since today is Thursday, it means that it’s his special time of the night.
Hitch goes to look at his alarm clock on his bedside nightstand, and sees it read: 3:01 A.M.
“Welp. Three AM. Time for my quest for Pipp’s love and affection.”
Hitch stands up on his bed, jumping off, landing on all fours, then making his way out of the bedroom.
But not before going back and opening up his nightstand’s drawer, digging through it until he retrieves his lucky spoon from it (for safety measures). 
“I wonder what today will be like...?” Hitch said to himself as he walks out of his home and into the cool three-in-the-morning nighttime air.
As Hitch walks farther outside does he see his pony crush waifu just openly standing out in the distance, expression looking as blank as Applejack after she’d have just served enough iced teas to the Manehattan Society of Lawn Care.
“Pipp! What’re you doing here?!”
“Help. You've gotta help me. I’ve accidentally eaten too many baked beans and now I can’t remember how to count to one hundred!” Pipp speaks, acting totally not like herself.
“Weird analogy. But okay!”
“Now repeat after me...” Hitch takes a long, deep breath.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four, sixty-five, sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine..., haha nice. Seventy, seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four, eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine...” Hitch takes one last long deep breath. “One hundred!”
“There. Now you know... again.”
“Sorry, could you repeat that again? I was too busy staring at your massive hotdog.”
“Hey! Don’t stare at my massive hotdog like that!” Hitch acts offensively towards Pipp, a hotdog somehow magically appearing in his hoof.
“Why do you even have a hotdog? We’re both horses Hitch. We don’t eat meat!!” Pipp sternly states.
“That’s what she said.” Hitch though snarkly replies back, a ‘filmed in front of a live studio audience’ laugh track sounding right after.
“Oh, this is all so terrible. I still don’t know how to count to one hundred and I can’t quite figure out the complexities of twenty-third century isototalitarianism. I need somepony to comfort me right now. Hitch, will you do the dirty ‘dirty’ work?"
“Sorry Pipp, but it’s November. And you know what that means.”
“No queso bean dip with a side of mayonnaise, served also with an iced tea November? You earth ponies do that too?”
“Yes! Exactly that!” Hitch brings his spoon out and shows it to her, “Now if you’ll excuse me miss, I have a hot date to attend to with the most hottest pegasus voted three times, in a row, by the Zephyr Heights Society of Agriculture.”
“Hitch, I’m the the most hottest pegasus voted three times, in a row, by the Zephyr Heights Society of Agriculture.”
“No you weren’t,” Hitch brings his spoon up to his face, thinking long and hard, “Weren’t you voted most athletic by the Zephyr Heights Society of Agriculture?”
“No. That was Zipp!”
“I knew it! Zipp Storm was the one voted most ‘eggheadly’ by the Zephyr Heights Society of Eggheads!-" 
“Hitch, don’t say that word! You know how offensive it is. Especially to unicorns.” Pipp whispering the last part to him.
“I know,” Hitch said matter-of-factly, “And I love you oh so dearly. But frankly my dear, I don’t give nightmare night candy away to any other pony but...-”
“But what? I love you too, but you're just so weird to be around. Ask any other pony. Ask Sunny while you’re at it!”
“I know I’m weird. But if I don’t claim your love and affection within the next three hours and exact twenty five minutes and forty one seconds, then you’ll never want to come to my house and play 'tea time dress up' with Sprout and I!” 
Pipp raises an unsuspecting eyebrow after what he just said.
“Sounds like you are sus, Hitch.”
“I’m not sus. I'm pontalian!" Hitch says, feeling taken aback.
“Sus. Totally sus.”
“Oh. Wait ‘til I tell Izzy of how you and I played checkers that one night when I came to your room while I was out delivering sandwiches to the castle guards!”
“Trust me. She’ll ship us.” Hitch’s weirdness continues onto level eleven (out of ten).
“You out here playing chess while I’m out here playing 10D checkers.” Pipp’s weirdness too dials up to eleven.

Cock-a-doodle-doo!!

“Oh good. The morning rooster just sounded. That means everypony is going to wake up soon and the day will begin.” Hitch observes, sounding relieved.
“Did we just spend the last three hours talking utter, random nonsense?” Pipp asks, not knowing whatever the heck they just did exactly.
“Yes.” Hitch replies back as straightforward as possible.
Before both Hitch and Pipp leave on their way, they closely approach one another, giving each other a kiss on the lips. Though each pony not knowing when to stop.
Finally, they do stop once Pipp feels a gag in her mouth, then she just so blatantly vomiting into Hitch’s mouth.
“Mmm. Tastes like fresh toast.” Hitch says one last time as the two ponies walk away from each other.
Remembering fondly of what they had just done during the night.