• Published 5th Nov 2013
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How I Screwed Up Equestria - Quicksear



An Irishman falls into Equestria, and slowly, everything starts to horribly wrong.

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Chapter Seven

Rainbow Dash glared at the blubbering mess of a human under her hooves.

She stamped on him impatiently, “Oh come on! It wasn’t that hard. Just tell me where Fluttershy is!”

Dale failed to respond other than to gasp and stutter, “You’re…crushing my ribs…stahp…”

With a huff, Rainbow Dash jumped off her crash pad, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. I need every pegasus in the skies NOW if we’re gonna clear the sky in time!” As she stormed over to the door, the soft sounds of crying reached her ears. “Wait, is…is Fluttershy crying?

Dale scrabbled back from the impending wrath, “I-I don’t know what I did I swear-!”

“Hmm, she won’t be any good,” Rainbow Dash muttered, “I can’t have any pegasus-produced moisture! It needs to be natural!”

Dale stopped squirming and scratched his head in confusion. “Wait…Ya aren’t upset that I made yer friend upset at all?”

Rainbow Dash finally regained some of her senses. She turned with a self-conscious look, “Er…normally, anyone that makes Fluttershy cry would get beaten into the earth so fast they’d think they were one of Applejack’s apple seeds, but…If you have a good reason, I’ll let you off with a kick to the head.”

Dale flinched, bumbling through an excuse that involved cheese, large amounts of calcium, Nazis and pterodactyls.

Rainbow Dash looked on in total awe.

“…Well,” She muttered, “Ten points for originality and confusing the flying feathers offa me. Head-kicking is much simpler, lets go with that.”

However, Rainbow’s wind-up and Dale’s manly squeal of terror were cut off when a rabbit stormed out of Fluttershy’s cottage and began furiously beating the hell out of Dale’s left shoe.

Both Rainbow and Dale stopped what they were doing (Kicking and screaming, respectively) and watched as the tiny bunny wailed away at the offending shoe. Dale reached down and picked up the raging bunny by the scruff of the neck. Raising the rodent to eye level, Dale casually said, “Hmm, rabbit. That’s good eatin’!”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash cried, grabbing the catatonic rabbit, “That’s Fluttershy’s favourite pet! No eating Angel Bunny!”

“Rainbow…” Came a sniffle from the doorway. All parties turned to stare, shocked, at a puffy-eyed, drained-looking Fluttershy as she leaned tiredly against the door post, “Don’t…don’t stop him. It’s the…the natural order of th-things. We can’t inter…inerf-“ And with that, she broke down bawling.

“I ruined the Natural Order of Things!” She wailed into the afternoon sky.

If Rainbow had been in a clearer state of mind herself, she might have put the pieces together and beaten Dale apart to the subatomic level, but as it was, she was just really, really confused.

“Ooooookay, time we checked out, Screamer.” Dash muttered, grabbing Dale around his middle and pulled.

*****

I don’t like flying.

I never liked flying. When I was a baby, my Da would throw me up into the air and catch me again, and I would scream in terror. He wouldn’t get the hint. He was Irish, remember; subtleties like a baby screaming in terror an inch from is ear are just the kind he would miss.

Rainbow though, she just didn’t give a rat’s mangy arse.

“Aaaaaaauugh!”

She rolled her eyes, “Keep calling attention to yourself, Screamer. You’re getting all the pegasi’s attention for me. Actually…”

It was then that she did the most mortifying thing that’s ever been done to me.

She literally used me as a fog horn.

“Calling all Ponyville pegasi!” She shouted, punctuating her sentence by jabbing me in the ribs and dropping me a foot in the air. I screamed my guts out.

“Every pegasus meet and Rainbow Dash’s house IMMEDIATELY!” She jabbed me again. I screamed hoarsely.

“Yer a fucking NUTTER!” I bellowed like a cow in childbirth, “Lemmee DOWN!”

To be honest, struggling like a loon while a creature tried to grip me with HOOVES was a really bad idea.

“Whoa…!” Rainbow Dash’s hooves scrabbled against my old jacket, but found no purchase. And then, I was falling.

“Aaaaaa-oof!”

All of four feet.

“Rarity! Got a delivery!” Rainbow Dash called above me in a sing-song voice that chilled me to the bone.

As I scraped my face out of the dirt, I found myself staring up at the giant blue-pink-and-purple monstrosity. The building formed a huge peaked dome, its upper tier ringed with dark forms of ponies watching me, and above the door a sign with the body of a pony skewered on a pole.

Then the door opened, “Oh, what is it Dash- Oh!”

The den of the Medusa.

Good thing I was winded, else I would have screamed and not had a chance to get a better look at the pony (not mythical beast bent on my death). She was looking at me with a tense smile, trying to make a good impression.

I tried to get my mouth to work through all the dirt jammed into it, “…Hi…”

Cough Cough

“Oh, you poor dear,” She cooed, stepping back from the door to allow me entry. “Come on in at once!”

She used a motherly tone that spoke more request than order despite her word choice. The only problem was, of course, her accent.

I crawled in cautiously, unsure whether an Irishman would be safe here or not, with this empiric-sounding magical horse. Once inside, I was shocked to see the walls studded with mirrors, mannequins (ponnequins?) and God please save me but I was surrounded by dresses. Weird, sideways, warped dresses, but dresses all the same. Not one of which I could even mildly try to think of as a kilt.

The sheer femininity of it all burnt me in a primal and very Irish way. “Oh Lord ‘ave mercy. I’m stuck in a dress shop.”

“Now now,” Rarity tutted as she trotted off into the bowels of the monster, “I know it isn’t exactly a human’s forte, but you’ll just have to live with a sense of pony fashion for a little while.”

Ponies and fashion were not two words my mind easily put together. All it brought up were images overly manly women riding little horses ‘round in circles at my hometown’s market day. I felt sick.

Rarity came back a few minutes later. Hovering in an ice-blue cloud beside her was a plateful of eggs, a glass of orange juice, and a newspaper. “Here we are dear, “She beamed at me. I thanked her with a nod and threw myself at the eggs.

GLORIOUS EGGS!

It wasn’t two minutes til I was finished. It was the best lunch I’d ever had, since, after all, my last meal had been two evenings ago, and had consisted solely of beer. My qualms about this particular pony were fading fast. Hell, I’d even put with her accent. I turned to face her, a real thank you hot on my tongue…

…and she was still giving me that benign me. She hadn’t moved so much as an inch. Qualms suddenly found a reason to return and watch from the wings.

“Err, thank you kindly fer the meal, went down a good spot it did.”

“You’re welcome dear.” She cooed, and then stopped moving again. It was like a mechanical action. Something she’d done so often, she just did on habit now. She sat five feet away, not close enough to be discomforting, not far enough to be distant. Her smile was so comforting and understanding I found myself thinking of Nana Bensen. That evil witch had worn the exact same smile while giving me nine o’ the best for throwing a Brussels sprout.

She’d been English, too.

But there was something else, something different between when Rarity had let me in and when she’d brought the food, something about her face…

Oh. Of fucking course.

“Ponies have invented makeup, I see.” I deadpanned.

She finally changed expression, this time into an annoying preen, “Why yes, dear, we are civilized, after all.” She gave that piece architecture she called a hairdo a not-quite-casual flick.

My qualms were about to take out a long-term lease and just settle for good.

“So…?” She cooed.

What? What did she want now? She gave me a piercing look, then raised an eyebrow. Wait, was she…nooooo, not one of the Elements themselves…

“Please don’ tell me yer a Skinny.” I grated out.

Rarity gasped at my accusation, then stamped the ground with a cross look all over her done-up face, “No! Of course not! I was just asking how you thought I looked you brute!”

I blinked. Seriously? That’s all she was sitting there for?

“Well wot did’ja think I was gonna say? How should I know what yer s’posed ta look like!”

“Well,” She struggled, huffing, “Most of you come through here give me at least the slightest complement! I…I didn’t take on this difficult and strenuous mantle of Human-Pony Interaction Coordinator just so you could come in here and eat all of my eggs!”

So that’s how it lay, eh? She was nice enough. I bet the first human she ever saw she dragged on in here to help out of the kindness of her empiric heart, but then the complements started. And then she started relying on them. Well, what could I say?

“I’m sorry there, darlin’ but as far as I’m concerned, I prefer my ponies out in the field chewin’ on grass. I’ve never seen a Shetland bargaining over a tub o’ blush before, and honestly I never want to.”

She stared death at me. I could have put it better, I guess. I tried again, “Look, I know yer used to a bunch o’ humans who already know ya, and maybe know what to say to get yer attention, I mean yer pretty easy ta figure out, but I aint from ‘ere, and I really would rather be back where I came from.” After a moment, I added, “An’ I don’t think yer a Medusa no more, if’n it help’s at all.”

It didn’t.

“What do you mean, ‘easy to figure out’?!” She exclaimed, “I keep myself well-guarded at all times, rendering service no matter my thoughts on the matter! How dare you suggest such a thing!”

“Right now yer thinkin’ about running upstairs an’ scrubbin’ all that gunk off yer face the second I ain’t lookin’.” I droned. She stared at me in shock. “Yer hardly a mysterious girl, luv.”

I’m pretty sure I saw the slightest beginnings of magic flickering around her horn.

Before I could scream, luckily (or not), we heard the back door open and three sets of little hooves drum their way across the linoleum. Rarity gave a single sniff, and plastered a smile across her face. A larger pony entered too, cooing happy little noises and bouncing through the large building.

I started looking for another plank. Prying might be needed.

Three little ponies trooped dutifully in, with the perky form of Pinkie Pie bouncing happily behind them like Herman Goering in a funny hat. Pinkie saw me and gasped, waving a loud “Hello, Dale! How’s the screaming going?”

“Well enough, I guess.” I answered, but it was the little ones that caught my attention. One used to be a white unicorn, another a yellow earth pony. The last had once been a vibrant orange, and a few tufts of purple mane stuck out at odd angles. I say ‘used to be’ because as I saw them, they were all coated in the thickest layer of river mud I had ever seen.

Rarity gasped in horror, “Oh my goodness, whatever happened to you fillies?!”

Mental note: Fillies means little girl ponies.

“We tried to get our wild animal taming cutie marks, but…it didn’t end well.” The little previously-white one said awkwardly, “We kinda ended up fighting with a crocodile.”

Rarity’s mouth dropped open. My brain stopped processing.

“Nu-uh!” The little previously-yellow one exclaimed, “That was an alligator!”

Rarity looked fit to pass out.

“No, no,” The last previously-unmuddied filly crowed, “It was a Radigator!”

…a what?

“No, silly,” Pinkie Pie chuckled, “Fluttershy hasn’t doomed us all to a horrible fiery death yet!”

As Pinkie nudged the three now-very-silent fillies from the room to get washed up, I came to three conclusions. One; those fillies meant little girl ponies of badassery. Two; Pinkie Pie had to be a clinically proven nutjob. And three; Fluttershy could end the world, and I had threatened to eat her bunny.

I was doomed.

It was only later that somepony explained to me that Pinkie had just heard another human sprouting nonsense about some or other story they’d come up with. But you get the picture.

“Well…” I turned back to Rarity.

She took one look at me, and ran for the door in tears.

Um…

Well f-

“Hi!”

I screamed my response to Pinkie Pie’s sudden arrival right down her pink pony snout. She just giggled and walked past me, “Oh you! Come on Mr Screamer!”

Like hell I would follow that crazy-

“Oh, Dale,” Pinkie turned to me, “That alligator those three fillies wrestled? He died. Don’t you feel soooo sorry for him?” She flashed me a sweet smile, “Are you coming?”

I listened to the happy sounds of childish laughter and splashing coming from the washroom, and felt a cold chill sweep over me. I couldn’t speak, but I followed Pinkie away from that boutique of madness.

The air in Ponyville itself felt…different. Muggy. Very humid, and completely different to earlier. Looking around as I follow Pinkie through the streets, I saw flocks of nervous-looking pegasi sitting along the tops of houses, chattering and glancing at the sky. In the centre of town, when we reached it, I saw Rainbow Dash sitting on town of a large domed building, holding out a hoof in the air, still as a statue. I did not know, at the time, but she was carefully watching moisture gather along the edge of her hoof. AA single drop fell, glistening in the air as it fell.

“Now!”

And everything went bat-shit crazy.

Every single pegasi along the rooftops took off and began flying in violent tight circles. There were so many, everywhere, the sky became a whirling kaleidoscope of colour. There were some shouts of caution as a wind picked up. The unnumbered pegasus wings beating up a strong wind that blew me into Pinkie pie’s back. Her humming stopped as the whirring increased.

“Wot in the bloody hell is goin’ on?!” I shouted over the noise. Above me, Rainbow Dash was cheering her mad creation on.

“I dunno silly, do I look like a Pegasus?” Pinkie squealed with laughter. Instead of doing anything sane (why would she?) She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into the maelstrom.

“Aaaaauugh!”

Pinkie bounced me through the windy streets of Ponyville towards Twilight’s tree-house-library (Which I have dubbed the house of irony). Pinkie shouted over at me, “Twilight sent a letter to the princess, asking to send you back! She should have gotten the reply by now on when Rarity can take you to Canterlot!”

“Ye’know, I don’t think Rarity’ll be too pleased to hear that!” I pointed out. Pinkie didn’t reply; we’d reached Twilight’s door. I was looking forward to getting out of the sudden pega-storm. “I wonder if Twilight there has a date, or if she has to give me a ticket or something-“

Then the door burst open.

Standing there, clutching a fancy-looking note in her flickering magic, was a very frazzled. Panicky looking Twilight. She poked Pinkie in the chest:

“You, Library, look after, don’t burn it down!”

Then she looked at me. It took her a minute to find her voice.

“Potatoes. Are. EVIL!”

In a vibrant flash, she was gone.

Pinkie and I looked at the space the alicorn had previously been assigned by the laws of reality. Pinkie shrugged and walked inside. I hesitantly followed.

In the centre of the library, beneath the large bust of what looked more like a horse than anything else, were scattered books and research tools. I wondered what Twilight had been studying. That curiosity died when I saw a still-steaming pot of black medium-roast heaven sitting beside the books.

Oh praise the Lord, ponies had coffee!

I dived on the pot and sniffed. “Whoa boy! This is some strong stuff yer princess friend brewed!”

“I wouldn’t know,” Pinkie said airily, “Twilight never makes when I’m here for some reason.” She wandered about the library, looking at books, “Hey, I wonder why Twilight was reading a book about ‘griffon parliamentary systems’?”

“I don’t really care, just so long as we’re out of that madness!” I croaked, gulping at the coffee. God, it was strong. “Uh…how long do we stay here, exactly?”

“Til Twilight gets back, I guess.” Pinkie sat in front of me, giving me a openly curious look that I had, sadly, seen before.

I tensed as I asked, “Now, please, don’t be offended, I’m just protectin’ myself by askin’ this, but…are you a ‘skinny’?”

Pinkie blinked slowly, “Well, are you a furry?”

“Wha’?” I asked, confused, “I don’t even know what that is, girl.”

She merely grinned back, “Then no. No I’m not.”

“Ah,” I replied, still cautious, “Good.”

We fell into silence, Pinkie humming a few bars, me staring at the pot in my hands. After a while, I figured I could at least still be friendly myself.

I held the pot out to the pink pony.

“Fancy some coffee at all?”

Author's Note:

And thus it begins...

Regards
Quicksear