Derek was tying his shoes, preparing himself for a light jog in the heavy rain. He didn't have the best shoes. They weren't brand name, and they were an ugly shade of greenish-blue. But they worked just fine. The bottom of the shoes had a ridged, rubbery pattern that did well to grip the sidewalk, unless it was icy.
Another nice feature of these shoes were the laces themselves. They were soft, flexible and colored a bright, neon red. Derek was very fond of them, and more than a few times Derek had woken up to find the shoes in bed with him. Not on his feet, but on the pillow next to him.
Finally, Derek finished tying his shoes. But as he stood up, a knocking came from the ceiling.
"What the hell?" Derek muttered to himself, looking up. Not a moment later, part of the ceiling caved in, and a pony came crashing down onto the floor, a smile on its face. It lay limp for a long while, staring at Derek with its soulless eyes. Its fur was matted and covered in dust from the broken sheetrock, but Derek could make out the familiar midnight blue.
It spoke.
"Thou art-"
Derek calmly picked up the pony, walked to the window on the other side of his house, opened it with his free hand, and dumped said pony into the thorny roses.
Derek then decided it was time for his jog.