//------------------------------// // Bad Hair Day // Story: Planes, Plans and Pony Music // by River Road //------------------------------// A lot of thoughts don’t go through my head as I stare blankly at the cutie mark on my thigh and wait for my brain to reboot. It takes a few seconds, but now I’m finally able to formulate the most important thoughts and put them in a reasonable and logical order. I’m turning into a pony. Is it concerning that that is my first explanation? It’s more of a joke than a serious thought, but it actually is the first thought that comes to my mind. I read and write… a lot… and I’m pretty open-minded regarding all the things that can supposedly happen to unsuspecting people. On the other hand I know that in the end it’s just wishful thinking. In real life those things never happen. I’m fully aware of the line between fiction and reality. I turn off the shower and walk over to the mirror and twist a little to get a better look at the tattoo. I can ignore magic as an explanation for now, but that still doesn’t explain why I suddenly have a cutie mark. There’s the possibility that all of this is just a very good prank, of course, but I’ve never actually been drunk and haven’t taken any drugs in my life. I live on my own and only my parents have another key to my apartment. I examine the blue and white picture. That’s the strangest thing about all of this; I think I know that cutie mark! I wreck my brain for a while, but I can’t say where I’ve seen it before. Maybe it was a background character from the show or something from a Tumblr blog… A cold draft reminds me that I’m still standing fully nude in my bathroom. The strange tattoo can wait a few more hours, right now I should get ready to meet with my family. I turn the water back on and begin the daily cleansing. The birthday party was nice as always, if uneventful. The usual relatives were present – my parents, uncles, aunts and a few cousins – and were entertaining each other just fine. They asked me about work and I gave the usual answers, made a few jokes and resigned myself to listening for the most part. I’m just not good at small talk if people expect me to stay serious. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t tell anyone about the mysterious tattoos. I doubted that they had any more insight than I had, and it didn’t really seem very important, either. As far as I know, none of them is a brony and without me they would most likely not even be aware of bronies and the show in general. Now I’m in my apartment again, in front of my bathroom mirror. I wanted to take another look at the cutie mark, but I can’t say I really care about that right now. What I do care about is the fact that my hair has drastically grown in the last few hours. I brush my hand through the strands of hair that almost reach my shoulders. I’ve never had hair even half that long, and I certainly didn’t have it this afternoon. The usual light brown color of my hair has taken on a noticeable light blue hint that definitely doesn’t look natural. On closer inspection I notice that my eyes have also changed color. I never paid much attention to my eye color, but I'm pretty sure that they used to be some sort of muddy green. Now they're a light blue, and the color seems a lot more defined than it should probably be. I seriously reconsider the ´Turning into a pony´ theory. It’s not like I haven’t given the whole concept some thought already, back when the show was at its peak. With all the Pony-on-Earth and Human-in-Equestria fanfiction it was hard not to think about it at some point. Like most bronies I even had my own pony OC… I pause. That’s where I know the tattoo from! A circular blueprint matrix was the cutie mark of my pony OC. It’s been a few years since I really thought about him, but I still remember a few things, like his cutie mark... Wait… I look at my reflection in the mirror again. Didn’t my OC have a blue mane? Is my hair bluer than before? Longer? I lean closer to the mirror, but I can’t tell for sure if my mane is already past my shoulders. Something does seem off, but it’s not the hair… I take a step back and the feeling gets stronger. Something is different than usual, but what? It’s at the tip of my tongue… Has the mirror gotten smaller? No, not smaller… It looks like I’m taller! I look down and realize that I’m standing on my toes… I didn’t even notice that. This whole affair is getting kind of creepy now. I set my heels back to the floor and immediately feel uncomfortable, as if the pose is unnatural for me. Trying to relax helps to stop the feeling, at least until I notice that I’ve unconsciously raised my heels again. This is starting to get concerning fast. Really fast, considering that none of my family said anything about my hair spontaneously changing color. But unruly hair is something I could deal with. The heel thing seems like it could be a medical condition. It’s too late to visit a regular doctor, but at the speed these changes are happening I’m not sure how long I’m willing to wait… It’s close to midnight when I walk through the entrance of the hospital. By now my mane is a deep blue and running across my neck – literally. It stopped growing longer when it had reached my shoulders – thank Celestia for that – but once it was done growing longer, the hair itself has started to spread downwards, sprouting all the way down my neck… If it starts to move down my back, too, I might have to cut my shirt open to give it some space. I could have waited to have that examined, even two days if the doctor doesn’t work on Sundays. The real reason I have decided to go to the hospital are my heels. Over the last three hours I have tried setting my heels back on the ground again and the results have been growing from uncomfortable to slightly painful. “Can I help you?” The woman at the reception looks a little tired and gives my mane an odd look, but she still greets me with a genuine smile. “Uhm, well…” I walk up to her desk hesitantly, fidgeting with my hands. This is going to be awkward. I’ve had some time to think about the best way to go about this, but my experience with hospitals is severely lacking. “I started having some problems with my feet a few hours ago…“ I point down at my feet, even though she has no way to see them from her position. “It’s been gradually getting worse, to the point where I have to stand on my toes to be comfortable.” I don’t mention strange tattoos and changing hair, because that would be stupid and accomplish nothing, best case scenario. I can get to that later, if the changes continue. “Did you have any accidents in the last days, like twisting your ankle, or did you ever have any injuries on your leg?” That’s probably a routine question. It looks like she has already fallen back into professional neutrality. “Nothing of the sort,” I answer honestly. I’ve probably been lucky in that regard and had almost no serious injuries in my life. I still get my share of stubbed toes and twisted ankles, but the last week had nothing like that, either. “I have no idea what could cause it.” I admit, that was less honest, but I can’t really tell her that I might be turning into a cartoon pony. I’m still not convinced of that. “I’m afraid we can’t really do anything for you.” The woman begins clicking through her computer. “It doesn’t sound like anything dangerous and you don’t seem to be in pain. Unless you’ve been sent here by another doctor I don’t know what to tell you. You should see a GP about it tomorrow, but this isn’t a case for the hospital, especially at night shift.” She looks up to give me a sympathetic smile. “The pharmacy next door is closed for the night, but I can sell you a light painkiller for the night if you want.” I sigh. “No, that’s alright. I don’t even feel it as long as I keep my heels off the ground. I was hoping that I could get a room for some sort of medical observation or something, but I understand.” The woman behind the desk nods and I turn around to leave. This went… exactly how I expected, actually. It was worth the try, though. I trot out into the chilly night air and pick a direction that leads me back to the apartment. The streets are deserted; it must be shortly past midnight already. I’ve made it a few blocks from the hospital when the wall starts to take a blue hint. Behind me the siren of an ambulance picks up and quickly gets louder. It’s coming right towards me, apparently. I don’t know why it even uses the obnoxiously loud thing in the middle of an empty street; the lights would be completely sufficient. I move my hands up to cover my ears when the sound stops abruptly. Huh… Maybe the driver had the same thought. I turn around to watch the ambulance drive past. The street is eerily quiet after the blaring siren, almost as if there is no sound at all… –EEEEOOOO “GYAAARGH!” I almost fall down under the assault of the siren. That plotface turned it back on when the ambulance was right beside me! I throw my hands back up to cover my ears. … My ears are gone. I panic lightly, moving my hands all over the sides of my head. My ears are gone. They’re freaking gone! The fading sound of the ambulance’s siren reminds me that they can’t be gone completely and I calm down a bit. I feel around my head again until I finally find them. The woman at the reception is still there when I enter the entrance hall of the hospital again. I step up to her desk and she looks up to greet me. She immediately recognizes me and gives me a curious look, opening her mouth to say something. Nothing comes out. Her eyes just widen as she stares at my mane. I brandish my insurance card with a grin, quietly enjoying the situation. With the other hand I point at the pair of large red pony ears poking out from the top of my head, and let one of them twitch for effect. “So… Can I get a room now?”