• Published 1st Jan 2015
  • 14,868 Views, 2,335 Comments

Fimfic Authors Are In Your Bed - Admiral Biscuit



A collaborative collection of stories about finding ponies in your bed.

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The CMC Tries To Get Your Bed Tattooed On Their Flanks (gabrek)

The CMC Tries to Get Your Bed Tattooed on Their Flanks
gabrek

You know it’s going to be a long night.

After leaving the store around 7 (a good two hours past your scheduled shift), you begin the long trek home. Your sluggish pace doesn’t exactly eat up the blocks, but what are you rushing home to anyway?

A bed full of ponies, that’s what. No thanks. You’ve witnessed that bed stained, burned, desecrated, banished, replaced and replaced again, deluged in cuteness and even criticized by some jerk with a jerk name that never had the decency to even show her face… all by these miserably cute, deceptively naïve creatures.

You sigh. Never mind that your bed was once your sanctuary in a world gone mad long before your arrival; never mind the 10’x10’ space that was once your sole block of privacy. Ponies just had to, inexplicably, ruin it all, and even hiding at your parents’ house had failed to prevent their intrusion.

Shoes faithfully plodding one step at a time towards your destination, you are so lost in thought that you almost step out into the road in front of the rapidly advancing piece of furniture rolling towards you.

Some stray instinct triggers in your brain and you stop, just in time, and as your heart begins to hammer in your chest as your bed zips by down the road towards the docks, a trio of fillies valiantly attempting to control the momentum of the out of control sleeping arrangement.
You begin to run after it. What else do you do in that situation, after all? Stop to think, consider how this is oddly reminiscent of how ponies are driving your entire life downhill, not just this piece of furniture?

No. You aren’t that out of shape- walking a dozen miles or so five times a week during the course of your shifts has kept the Panda Express from settling too aggressively around your belly, and you can sprint just fast enough to start gaining on the runaway bed.

The fillies cheer as their impromptu vehicle hits the final slope towards the docks (your town must have been made with a cheesy action movie in mind) and begins to accelerate; fortunately, its mass prevents it from gaining speed as quickly as your rapidly pumping legs do. You actually begin to find hope that you’ll be able to catch up to the runaway trundle- though you have no idea what to do then- when the patrol car pulls out from the local Dunkin’ Donuts and is promptly T-boned by your cot.

The fillies go flying, a la Team Rocket, flanks bare as ever, as you slam into the headboard at full bore, knocking the wind out of you and sending you sprawling to the pavement. As your eyes begin to uncross and your lungs start regaining function, you find yourself staring up at the rather irate visage of a police officer covered in steaming latte.

It’s going to be a long night.

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