//------------------------------// // Walkie-Talkie Man // Story: Not\e/worthy // by YarnWeaver //------------------------------// Not\e/worthy Part of the PonyEarthVerse By: YarnWeaver Chapter 1: Walkie-Talkie Man Someday - Sometime Somewhere - Someone It frustrates me sometimes when I can't remember my dreams. Whatever I dreamt last night could've possibly given me a clue about this whole thing. Then I'd have probably had some kind of warning to stay home from work that day. I get those sometimes. Not quite sure why, but sometimes they make sense in retrospect after I've been through certain situations. They're mostly just flights of fancy, though. Especially after I became a brony. That's neither here nor there as far as helping me out where I'm at right now is concerned, though. Let me back up a bit. Today started innocently enough, despite the lack of dream recall I mentioned. I woke up, did my morning routine for the day, went to college where I ususally surfed through new updates for stories I was following on Fimfiction.net and any other things Bronies were doing that interested me between classes. Then I'd come home to the mobile home park where I worked on a few assignments before getting on my way to my job as a Cashier at Walmart. It wasn't the best paying job in the world, but it got me enough to hold up my portion of the rent my brothers and I were sharing plus some extra to either save or spend however I wanted. My folks were really generous with that setup. They said we needed to be out on our own, but at least they gave us a good deal on a unit in the park to get us started. Not that any of that matters with where I'm at right now. Work went fine, as it usually does. Scan fast. Pack well. Be sure to say your lines. Rinse. Repeat. Standing at that register for a couple of hours at a time can be stressful, but I've been able to cope with that by thinking of each bag I'm filling as a puzzle to solve. Sure, it may cut into my speed a bit, but the customers don't seem to mind, on the whole. Always have to wear that smile, though. Customer complaints can be hazardous to my employment. Suffice to say I'm always glad when my supervisors send someone to replace me for my breaks. I'd have to take care of any merchandise my customers may have had second thoughts on before taking it, but even that little bit of sorting returns and sometimes logging accidental left-behinds was a welcome change of pace that I relished before I got to really relax. If only briefly. I didn't really know any of my associates there. That's one thing I regret. I worked there for four and a half years and never really made any friends. I regularly found myself searching for a nametag whenever someone approached me, though casual greetings in the aisles rarely even got that treatment. Practically the only people whose names I could rattle off on demand were those of my supervisors, and that was only because they were always getting on my case to go faster. I wish they didn't keep giving me all those arbitrary coachings. I'm doing the best I can! I can't really fault them for that though, they're always civil about it, and they're only doing their jobs. Just like I'm trying to do mine. Not that I can do anything to improve that situation anymore. Those breaks though, they're my chance to unwind. They're when I get the chance to read those chapter updates, possibly draw or write something, or just take a nap in the break room to recover while I'm off the clock for lunch. I do that last one fairly often. I did it today, too. The first thing that tipped me off that something was wrong was the feeling that I was lying down. I'd usually nap sitting at one of the tables, resting my head on and hugging the nylon cover of my black, insulated, no name lunch box. Nothing but cold metal now. I woke to the sound of a man's voice. "-it yer whining, Mac-. -t's secure. Yeah. -ell the ol' boss man...special project...locked up tight...wanted us to." I opened my eyes, which was strangely difficult for some reason, and I was greeted with the blurry image of a man holding something black to the side of his face. He was gone before I'd fully come back to my senses. First, I felt that what my head was laying on was a good deal firmer and yet softer than I remembered my lunchbox being. That was the second clue. The third clue, however, was what I didn't feel. I didn't feel the pinch of my beige khakis around my waist. I didn't feel squeeze of the collar of my navy blue polo around my neck, or my cuffs around my arms for that matter. I didn't feel the comfy film of my socks or the slightly hard but flexible shell of my shoes around my feet. I didn't...I couldn't feel my feet! That sure woke me up the rest of the way. With a jolt, I snapped my head to attention, but strangely my neck somehow carried it farther upward than I was anticipating, and I hit my crown on a flat metal surface not that far above me. By reflex, my hands shot up to rub the spot where my skull made contact as I shut my eyes to ward off the pain. Then I got the next clue. I couldn't feel my hands either! Now feeling that the pain could wait, my eyes shot open, and I was instantly surprised at how little there was to even see! A squarish metal grate stood up straight in front of me. Metal surrounding it on all sides. From the looks of it, it was the same metal I just beaned myself on. I was in a cage! "What the...WHAT?!" I exclaimed, also suddenly finding that my voice was just a tad deeper than my usual range for outbursts. As I reached out to try the door I got my final clue that something was wrong. My arm was covered in deep blue fur and ended in a hoof! Something was very, very, VERY WRONG! I checked my other arm. Same deal. I tried to check my legs, but the cage I was in was to short for me to sit up or even assume a decent crawling stance in and was too narrow to turn around in as well! I felt my face. I had a muzzle! A big old snout even, that widened to a much rounder head with eye sockets as big as my hooves, tall fuzzy ears near the back, and a shock of darker blue hair between them! Finally adding up the clues, I remembered that one video I saw a link for on Equestria Daily some time ago. That one where a particularly talented fan had animated a clip of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and edited them into a staged video shot at some convention in New York. I recalled everything Celestia's stunningly good voice actress said. For a moment, I was a deer in reality's headlights. Then the pieces all came together, and the resulting conclusion struck. That wasn't a voice actress. That wasn't editing. That wasn't animated. It was real! It was all real! I'm a pony! A STALLION! Locked up in a CAGE!! ALONE!! NO WAY OUT!! I could feel my fear and desperation building up inside of me. Overwhelming everything else until I could contain it no longer. There was only one thing I could do. I screamed. HHEEEEEEAAAAAAALLLLLLPP!!!