They used to sleep in their beds, not a care in the world, but then it changed. The only ponies that survive are...different, they were more lethal than a timber wolf on crystal meth and steroids, they could kill, even bare-hoofed. This was the problem. They didn't trust each other, they robbed, rapped, and murdered each other. Each survivor was insane, except for three out of a few hundred. They weren't insane, they were just as sane as they were when it all started...That's what they told themselves, anyway.

Edit: who in their right mind let me write this two years ago. I'm trying to salvage it from the hell-pit that it is but I promise nothing.