TIME: 20:56
DATE: 02/02/84
LOCATION: 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W, within the remains of Old York City, Times Square
The team has been called into the area because of a recent fluctuation with radio signals. Once the radiation suits had been donned and the immediate location scanned for mutants, it was deemed safe to search.
No immediate threats were detected. Radar picked up no scans of enemy targets or even a hint of a Robotic Ruskie in the area. A fallout still hung overhead, which won’t be going away anytime soon for nearly twenty years now. Thankfully, it wasn’t raining radioactive snow on any of the team. Radiation-proof umbrellas are just too damn expensive.
Eventually, the disturbance in the radio signal was discovered. And not a moment too soon. The lotto was about to start. The East Coast Correlation of Yanks were threatening to bomb TexasCo (again) because of it. Damn state-countries can’t get it together with these types of emergencies.
One of the team members, let’s call him Steve (note that all team members are referred as Steve, even the females, mostly to save time and because they die too soon for us to remember their names or care about it), was the first to discover the disturbance. From what he’s frantically screaming in our compiece, it’s apparently a doozy.
Apparently it’s nothing to really be excited about. Just another portal to a different dimension. However, this one was actually big enough for someone to fit through, which was quite different than those others that just poured toxic chemicals or candy wrappers wherever they pop up. I swear, they’re becoming more annoying than frontal lobe advertisements.
Since the portal was messing with the radio signals, something had to be done about it. The team was originally intended to handle malfunctioning electrical boxes, shorted out cable wires, and the odd psychopath with an axe made out of recycled soda cans, but they had the clearance for the go-ahead to explore inside the portal. Who knew how long it would stay open. Plus, like I said, threat of nuclear annihilation between two former Amerika state-countries. Something like that hasn’t happened since last October (no one liked Kansas Korp anyway).
Once they entered the portal we lost all visual contact with the team, but we did have voice communications up and running, so this is what we were able to gleam from their discover.
“Holy shit, it’s sunny here.”
“Can you smell that? It’s fresh air! Oh Gawd, I never thought I’d smell it again!”
“I don’t even have a nose and I can tell it’s fresh!”
“Whoa, whoa, guys, look! It’s the sun! And my skin isn’t immediately burning off! This is amazing!”
“By Gandhi's nuclear, zombified corpse, this place has grass! And not just GRASS™, but actual grass!”
“OH GAWD THEY HAVE WATER AND MY TEETH AREN’T FALLING OFF BY DRINKING IT! THIS IS HEAVEN!”
Apparently from the recordings the team had found a true paradise not on Earth. When we pressed them to explore further, Steve told us to fuck off because he was sniffing flowers. We deducted such a remark on the marks in Steve’s paycheck. We don’t know which Steve so we just chose one from random. That’d show him.
Good thing for us, the team didn’t need to explore further before some natives discovered them. We were surprised the team wasn’t killed immediately by some weird alien monster thingy, and that surprise just grew more so when we heard this.
“Uh, excuse me. Who are you monst—erm, things… people. Just what are you?”
“By the Queen’s cyborg heart, it’s a talking midget horse!”
“You mean a pony?”
“Nah, that’s clearly a dog.”
“Dogs can talk?”
“With an implant I think you can make them. You just gotta—”
“Excuse me! I still have a question.”
“We, tiny-midget-talking-horse, are a group of adventurers from a far away land. We are in the search for a great treasure. You, uh, wouldn’t happen to have any hotpockets and Mt. Dew on you, perchance? Ever since the Ruskies stole the Mt. Dew factories from the moon I haven’t had a sip in ages!”
“I’m… not even sure what Mt. Dew is. And did you just say you’re from the moon? And what’s a hotpocket?”
This continued on for a tedious five minutes. We learned the midget horse was called Twilight Sparkle, apparently some princess or some shit like that. It was very hard to pay attention because the team kept on raving about how large the creatures’ eyes were. Also, the colors. Most of them were color blind due to birth defects, but apparently it was still pretty neat. Oh, also the fact that the creatures had freakishly large craniums and some even had horns and wings. Looks like they had worse birth defects than we did. One of the team was worried the midget horse was going to suck his brains out through a straw. Ha, classic Steve.
Oh, anyway, another recording got through before the, well, end.
“Are you guys eating the grass now?”
“Better than what the serve back home!”
“I don’t really think that’s healthy.”
“Nah, it’s fine. I have more tumors than stomach at this point.”
“Uh, look, I think you all really need to… well, leave. Some other ponies from Ponyville are freaking out at the sight of you. One of your people tried to ride them.”
“Ha, classic Steve.”
“Listen, it’s not funny. None of that is. We tried to get along with you people through understanding and acceptance, but you just shoved it aside and asked for more hotpockets.”
“Your hotpockets are too cold, by the way.”
“I don’t even know what a hotpocket is, by the way. I tried to learn more about who and what you are from the short time that you’ve been here, and from the gist of it, I don’t like it a bit. Especially Nixonlord. Jeez, what a creep.”
“Hey, I didn’t vote for him.”
“I did it five times.”
“Gawddamnit, Steve.”
“Still, even the most fundamental lesson about friendship I tried to teach you was thrown back into my face.”
“Because friendship is gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”
“Now, that isn’t very nice to say.”
“No, it is, literally. Friendship means happiness. And everything knows happiness is gay.”
“...”
“Hey Steve, you’re gay, right?”
“Go back through your damn portal.”
And with that the team was pushed back through. No sign of Steve though. One can only think he stayed behind, forever in bliss in the midget horse lands. Or he could be dead. Either way, we spent his paycheck on hookers.
Good news is that the radio signal was fixed and Steve was dead. Bad news is that the different dimension was really stuck up and lame. Just like the cuddling bear tattoo dimension. Or the fuzzy dinosaur one. Man, what a bunch of lame-o’s.
Oh hey, we’re still getting a signal from Steve in the other dimension.
“My Little Midget Horse, My Little Midget Horse.”
“Ahh, ahh, ahh, ahhh…”
“I used to wonder what friendship could be.”
“Until all you sha—”
…
That was about it. Well, other than savage beating and cries for help. But we’re sure Steve is fine.
“MY LEGS! MY LEEEEEEEGS!”
Ha, classic Steve.