'Twas yet another slow day in the home of Dancing Dead, another day spent playing Fallout: New Vegas, and waiting hours on end for a few half-decent people to log on to their Skype accounts. The young man sat in his swivel chair, staring somberly at the small television screen before him as the grim, picturesque landscape of the Mojave Wasteland crawled by. Suddenly, the display became blurred, and a grey, oblong shape appeared at the top of the screen; it informed him that his controller had been disconnected.
'What the fuck, I just put in new batteries last night,' he thought as he tossed his Xbox remote up onto the desk next to him. *bang!* He rose from his chair wearing an expression not of anger, but of mere annoyance. 'The shit I put up with,' he began the epic journey across a small space of shag carpet to the end table which served as the console's shelter. 'Deadly', as he was sometimes referred to on the Internet, opened a drawer on the table and pulled out two new batteries from his seemingly endless hoard of AA's.
As he was making his way back to his chair, Deadly felt an immense pressure build up in his head. He began to feel extremely woozy, almost falling into the seat. As he sat, his head almost resembled a Vault-Tec bobblehead in the way it slowly swayed back and forth. Shortly thereafter, he started to fade out -- not into black or white, but... Pink.
*le time skip*
Deadly awoke with a jolt, one so powerful and so forceful that it could've sent a phone booth into orbit. Little did he know that soon afterwards, that phone booth would travel backwards through time and find itself on a collision course with the International Space Station, but that's neither here nor there (Sputnik was laughing his shiny little ass off when he heard). He was abruptly overtaken by the uncontrollable urge to sneeze, and sneeze he did. He was knocked back into his chair, almost forcing it to fall backwards. Cue mini heart attack, accompanied by an epileptic seizure. He swiftly made the dumb mistake of moving his body forwards, thereby tipping him the rest of the way over. What a dumbass. Anyway...
He tried desperately to recalibrate himself, but it was a fruitless effort as he ended up confusing himself even more. A moment of writhing around in a corner passed, and he finally sat himself upright. He felt the blood rush from his head, causing vision to become very dim for a short time.
Upon recovery, he felt a presence in the room, as if there was someone else there with him. Deadly's eyes scanned the room in a panoramic fashion, and promptly landed on... something. Something which had been thrown against the wall and had slid down, as evidenced by the yellowish-green streaks leading to another yellowish-greenish-pinkish mass lying on the floor. A look of both intrigue and disgust swirled its way onto his face as he slowly approached the glob of whatever it may have been.
He reached out to poke the Ditto-like thing, but drew his hand back just as it began to move. 'Oh god it's moving, oh dear lord,' he thought, and before he knew it, the pink thing had teleported to right in front of his face. Its eyes a brilliant sky blue and the size of small dinner plates seemed to peer directly into his soul as it began to speak at barely comprehensible speeds.
"Hi I'm Pinkie Pie I've never met you before who are you what are you I love making new friends anyway you're pretty tall where am I what's this goop all over me it's so sticky like chocolate syrup oh my gosh is it chocolate syrup no I don't think it's chocolate syrup because chocolate syrup isn't green but it could still taste like it though... okay that doesn't taste like chocolate syrup where am I what's that what's this what's those what's these what's them what's they," it began to giggle hysterically as it appeared to materialize in random places about the room.
Deadly tried desperately to process this debacle, but failed epically as he found that he could not even force himself to think about anything at all. His brain simply said "Fuck that shit, I'm outta here," and shut itself down. He stared at the creature which was now standing at a height that reached the midpoint of his thigh at the top of its head... thing.
"Uh," He planned his next moves very carefully, "... Hi?" Deadly's brain, whom we'll call 'Brain' for lack of a better name, decided that early retirement was no longer an option due to the economy and rebooted, only to facepalm at the mess he had left behind.
"Hi, I'm Pinkie Pie! What's your name?" It- I mean 'she' babbled, completely oblivious to the abnormal surroundings.
"I'm uh..." Deadly was still fairly shaken from the situation. His attempts to recall this elusive 'name' was interrupted.
"Did you forget your name? You're silly! I know, we can make one up for you! How about..." Pinkie examined his t-shirt, featuring a skull with 'GNR' written across the forehead. The words 'Guns N' Roses' were written in the place of the mandible, all plastered across the dark blend of cotton and other such nonsense. "Rosie! Because it's on your thing there!" she jabbed his chest with her hoof. A thin trail of snot was left behind as she moved her hoof back to the floor.
Deadly recovered slightly, managing to recall some form of identification, "My name's Mike, but whatever," So that's his name... He shrugged, suddenly feeling like there was no way to rid himself of his new title.
"You know, this is pretty gross," Pinkie finally noticed that she was almost completely covered in nasal fluids. "Do you have a shower or something?" She took on a more serious tone, much to the human's relief.
"Yeah, it's through there..." He trailed off as he motioned towards the door on the opposite side of the room. The technicolor being began bouncing blissfully in the direction of the aperture.
"Okie-dokie-loki-Rosie!" and with that, she was gone, leaving quadruplets of sticky hoof prints behind her. Mike ran his hands through his hair, sweeping the length behind his ears, and sighed.
"What the fuck was that?" he whispered to himself, but his discourse was met with nothing but a running shower as a response.
Listening closely, he could just barely make out what sounded like singing. "... It's true some days are dark and lonely~..."
"Yeah, no shit," Mike's voice was lower than normal, only to make sure that only he heard himself. He made his way back over to his overturned chair. Setting it upright once more, he fell back into it, rapidly feeling particularly drowsy. He decided to simply power through the remainder of the day despite his lack of energy. After all, he was fairly used to being tired.
A short time later, the noise from the bathroom ceased and a vibrant pink equine emerged, sans snot. Still soaked to the bone, she bounced over to the lounging biped and hopped into his lap as he was just about to nod off. His eyes shot open and were met with blindingly bright colors and the scent of Old Spice. POWAAAAA- Haha, no. "Hey! Me again!" she extended a cheerful greeting.
Mike/Deadly/Rosie took a second to react, mostly because he didn't know how. "'Sup?" he returned the gesture.
"The sky!" What followed was what became known as the most epic facepalm in the history of humanity. It was so epic, Mike's hand went through his face, out the back of his skull, and smacked a framed Chinese silk painting off the wall. Not really.
He smiled, despite the fact that Pinkie had uttered the most horrific joke known to anyone or anything, "Yeah, that's real funny," he picked up his controller with the intent of continuing his game, but quickly remembered, "I still need new batteries," he began to stand, but the pony stopped him.
"Oh, I already put new ones in," she told him, beaming. Again, Mike was extensively puzzled by her antics. How could she have known how batteries work, let alone where they go? "I was just guessing!" Pinkie seemed to be reading his mind at that point, and if she were indeed, he would not be surprised.
As if to test whether or not she was joking, the human pressed down on the center button for a few seconds. To his amazement, the green LEDs lit up and began to flash. He pressed it once more, and the menu appeared on screen. Glancing up at the corner, Mike saw that the battery symbol had all four bars; a full charge. "Well, how 'bout that,"
"See, I told you!"
"When did you do this, exactly?"
"While you were about to fall asleep! You closed your eyes and I hopped out of the shower real quick and changed the batteries!" Now baffled to the fullest extent, Mike gave her a look which resembled the Jackie Chan meme. Pinkie giggled, "You look like that Jackie Chan meme!"
Terrified. It was the only word to accurately describe the human's reaction. If Pinkie knew what the Jackie Chan meme was, then there was a damn good chance that she was also familiar with Rule 34. It's only logical. "Pinkie," he began, "Do you know what Rule 34 is?" his voice was low and serious.
"I dunno what you're talking about!" Wait for it...
"Okay, good," Mike thought to himself, wow that was close. Pinkie thought for a moment and finally corrected herself.
"Ohhhh, you mean THAT rule! Haha, I know what Rule 34 is! You're a naughty tall-thingy, Rosie!" Oh God dammit. Mike sighed again.
"Fuck,"
"Yep, that's the one! You wanna try it?"
"What," No emotion.
"I said," Pinkie cleared her throat and took a giant breath, "DO YOU WANNA TRY RULE 34!?!?"
Flabbergasted, he was. Mike shrugged, "Ah, what the hell, I got nothin' to lose," and so that happened.
*Two and a half sexual escapades later*
Exhausted. Totally exhausted. The two lie in Mike's bed, staring at the ceiling. Both Mike and Pinkie fairly enjoyed the previous events, which they had both expressed to each other shortly after. The ceiling fan turned quietly, cooling the pair down as they recuperated. "Hey," Pinkie broke the silence, "you got a light?" she asked the human.
"Sure," he reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a box of cigarettes, "here you go," he held the box out for her. She took one in her mouth.
"Fanks," she spoke around the filter between her lips. Mike pulled a lighter from the nightstand as well. *chk* He held the tiny flame up to the end of her cigarette, reducing the tip to ash. He pulled the last one from the box and tossed the empty container onto a pile of empty boxes of condoms. He lit up his own... *chk*... and took a breath.
"How many boxes of condoms did we go through?" Mike asked quietly, receiving a shrug as a response. He then attempted to count the days spent eloping with the pink party pony, but to no avail. "How long were we going for?"
"Umm..." Pinkie inhaled the cancerous fumes of the Marlboro, and exhaled them as she spoke, "A few days, at least," she giggled.
"Well, now I at least know that I missed a few days of work," Mike reached over and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan. 1234567890. He took a swig and passed the bottle to Pinkie, who gulped down a bit of the rum. She moved herself closer to the human and rested her head on his shoulder. They both turn their heads and look straight at you. "If you thought this was how the story was going to end, then you're dead wrong," he seems to stare directly into your soul at this point.
"Aww, I wanted it to be real," Pinkie whined. She positioned herself up onto Mike's torso, touching his nose with her own.
"Maybe next time," he gives her a smile and a kiss, then his gaze returns you, "As for you," he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a Glock with his free hand, "Remove thyself from mine eyesight... post haste!" He pulls the trigger. *POW!* The nine-millimeter round pierces your skull, causing you to drop lifelessly to the floor. A deathly silence briefly fills the room. "Now that that's over..." Mike replaces the firearm, puts out both their cigarettes, and sets the bottle of rum down beside the bed. He puts his arm around the pony as he rolls over onto his side, "... let's get some sleep, shall we?"
"Okie-dokie-loki," Pinkie said in between her yawning. She gives the human a deep kiss before closing her eyes and falling asleep in his arms. Mike followed her into dreamland shortly after.
*reality check*
"...DO YOU WANNA TRY RULE 34?!?!"
Flabbergasted, he was. "Uh, no thanks," Pinkie became somewhat cross with the human, but it was mostly exaggerated.
"Aww, you're no fun," she pouted.
The human simply returned to his virtual stomping grounds. "Sure, whatever," he mumbled. Beginning to feel bored, Pinkie looked around the room for something to do. She bounced cheerfully over to the closet and peered inside. She spotted something back in the corner, hanging out of a box and spilling onto the floor. She reached back and pulled the material out of its cardboard container. Upon inspection, Pinkie noticed that a plethora of small bubbles covered the entire sheet of plastic. She popped one, and then another, “Oh my good golly gosh, this is so fun!”
Mike took notice of the commotion and looked to see what was causing it. He spun his swivel chair around, “Pinkie, what the f-“ The pony cut him off as she leapt back into his lap with what appeared to be a large piece of bubble wrap.
“What’s this?” her query struck the human as somewhat odd. He began to wonder if bubble wrap existed in wherever the fuck she came from.
“That’s bubble wrap,” he said. Just before he was about to return to Big MT, he had a deadly premonition about what might happen to the world if Pinkie was allowed to play with bubble wrap. Countries would wage war, economies would collapse, the entirety of the world’s infrastructure would be sent flaming into the ground like a Fourth of July firecracker, and civilization would be incinerated in a rain of nuclear hellfire. As long as I have Fallout, I don’t give a shit. His reasoning was enough to convince him to let it go, but not before the severity of the situation made him stop in his tracks. *Pop pop pop pop pop…*
“… Shit.”
∞∞∞∞∞
Author's note: This was just an idea I came up with during a Skype call that went horribly wrong, and just to 'test the water' if you will; seeing how good of an author I'd make, etc. You know how it is.