• Published 18th Jan 2012
  • 2,658 Views, 106 Comments

Fourth wall be damned - Scriber

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4
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One

You nearly choke on your soda, the bubbly froth suddenly declaring war on your nostrils. Your eyes water and you cough furiously, flailing your arms about in a generally disheveled fashion as you backpedal away from the intruder. Known to be one for profound statements when the situation arises, you do not disappoint.

“H-holy knobgobbling shit!” You sputter, heart hammering rapidly against your ribcage. The pony appears to be unfazed, giggling heartily at your no doubt humourous display of shock. Incredulously, you lift your still-lit cigarette to your face, inspecting it for hidden hallucinogens.

“Whatchya doin'?” the pony asks, turning her head quizzically.

“Not now, Pinkie Pie. Still recovering from the coronary here,” you reply.

Wait. Wait a second. Pinkie...Pie. That's Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie, the party pony from Ponyville, is now standing not two meters away from you. On impulse, you give yourself a firm slap to the face, eliciting a few new giggles from the pink pony as the strike connects. The sharp, stinging pain in your face confirms your suspicions; either this is one of the more elaborate dreams you've had, or you've completely lost your bloody marbles.

Eyes widened, you silently – cautiously – approach the earth pony. With a trembling hand, you reach out and poke the Pinkie Pie. The tactile sensation beneath your fingertips is not entirely unlike a warm, breathing, furry marshmallow. You instantly draw your hand back, half-expecting the universe to implode right then and there.

“You're pretty funny, mister!” the pink pony chuckles, reaching out and poking your stomach with a hoof. You recoil instinctively, letting out a rather girly yelp. You run a hand through your bedraggled hair, fingers digging into your scalp.

“It's not every day that a cartoon character materializes in front of me for no explicable reason, so I do hope you'll pardon the surprise,” you say in response.

“What's a cartoon character?” Pinkie asks, again cocking her head to the side. You suppress a chuckle.

“Erm...” You decide not to let on your admittedly extensive knowledge of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic for the time being, for fear of irreparable damage to space-time. “Let's not dwell on that for the moment,” you finally manage. “More importantly, though – how did you get here? Don't you...you know...notice anything strange about this place?”

“Brrr!” Pinkie Pie says, shivering. “Yeah! I mean, like, what's with all the wind, huh? It's ffffff-reezing out here! Is the weather team bringing in a storm or something? Can we go inside? Can we? Can we! OOH! Do you have an electric mixer?!”

You blink, trying to process all of that. “Storm's coming in, no weather team, maybe, and yes-”

“-come on, then! Let's go!” the pony interrupts, bouncing merrily toward your opened garage door. You swear that you can hear the trademark “sproing” of a Pinkie Pie bounce every time her hooves leave the asphalt. You butt out your cigarette, mashing the cylinder of death to a pulp beneath your trainers.

“Hold on a tic, Pinkie – I'm not sure that's such a good-”
The sound of a door slamming open interrupts your half-hearted warning.

“-...idea.”