> My Little Pony: The Next Generation?
>  by I_am_XNN
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Episode One: In Which Alan Gets A Roommate, Part One.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is your final warning. Please do not read this.


May 3, 2031
Cloudsdale, Equestria

Alan walked into the lobby. This was normal. Another thing that was normal was the fact that he was absolutely rank with the odor of fresh fish. The receptionist was absolutely sick of this, but didn't say anything because Alan was currently carrying a newspaper. Alan did not read the news. The way he saw it, if the world were predicted to end (and it usually was), he would not want to know about it. The only reason a man (Stallion?) as intelligent as Alan would ever be seen with a newspaper was if it was for someone (Somepony?) else.

'Hey Dave.'

'Oh, hey, Alan, got the papers?' replied the receptionist (also the building manager), now known to be called Dave.

'Yee,' answered Alan, placing the papers on Dave's desk. 'That's 1.79.'

'You what?'

'Yeah, sorry, prices went up again.'

Dave tilted his head to one side and handed over two bits. 'Here, keep the change.'

'Fuck yeah,' replied Alan.

Dave looked back at his newspaper. 'River pirates up north,' he said.

Alan shot Dave (or the paper, it was hard to tell) a condescending glare and said, 'That's old news.'

Dave was shocked. 'What?!'

'It's all I've been hearing about for weeks,' replied Alan, 'Honestly, they should've been caught by now.'

Dave ceased to be shocked with the response: 'Really? I don't watch the TV news.'

'I don't either;' replied Alan, 'I found out from the online news.'

'Really?' questioned Dave, 'wouldn't've thought you'd be interested in that kind of thing.'

'I'm not,' replied Alan (again), 'It's just that there's no avoiding it.' There was a brief pause. 'Anyway, I'd better get going.' Alan turned and made his way towards the elevator. 'And insult Fat Jeff for me, would yeh?'

'I'll see what I can do,' replied Dave.





Several minutes later, Alan was walking into his penthouse apartment when his phone rang.

'Cake,' said Alan as he answered his phone.

'Hey, Alan, what do you want me to say to Fat Jeff?'

'Aw, I don't know, something along the lines of, "Oh, so you're a landlord? Who'd you suck off to get that job, you fat bastard?"' answered Alan.

'Sounds good to me.' And with that, Dave hung up.

Alan locked the door and made his way to the center of the room. He then walked over to the couch and immediately stripped to his waist. This was normal. He rather enjoyed stripping off after a hard day at work. It was dark enough outside that he could clearly see his reflection in the window, biting one wing and provocatively stroking the other. The picture of narcissism if ever there was one. He snapped himself rather forcefully out of this perverse observation of his own bare chest and turned in a vaguely kitchen-ward direction to take stock of the beer chiller.

Anyone who knew Alan could tell you that he did not drink. It was not a matter of alcoholism; he simply felt that it was more trouble than it was worth. His beer chiller was instead reserved for his stock of soft drinks, which had to be constantly monitored or Alan would go insane from withdrawl of one chemical or another. And today was stock day.

'Let's see... Eleven cans of Choke-a-Cola, no trouble there... Two cans of Diet Choke, that I can live without... Five cans of grape Santa, six cans of strawberry Santa...' Alan looked towards his favorite outrageously expensive imported root beer. 'Four bottles...' he said. This was fine. The damn stuff was so expensive, he was lucky to even have that much. But there was one very important thing he had to check at the bottom of the cooler. 'Only three cans of Munster left. Better get some more tomorrow.' He made a note of this and left the room.

Having taken stock of the Soda Cache, Alan retrieved his shirt from the couch and brought it to the nearest laundry hamper. He then immediately stripped down to his underwear and put his discarded clothes in the hamper. He then walked into the bathroom and removed his underwear.

Alan looked in the bathroom mirror. He might've been called nondescript were the average pegasus not so brightly colored.
Instead, the reflection he saw staring back could only be described as drab.





It took me a great deal of time to recover from the ensuing bout of writer's block, but I ultimately decided that the best course of action would be to simply remove the fourth wall from the equation entirely. The effects of this will become apparent later. But for now, on with the story.





Alan kicked his close-fitting black boxer shorts to the corner of the room and stepped into the somewhat-overpriced shower stall. Alan liked shower stalls; they always seemed so much warmer that bathtubs and contributed to the inner-city aesthetic that he liked so much. After some time wondering when the narrative was going, Alan simply started his shower and began to wash his hair. The scented shampoo he was using for this purpose was the only item in the bathroom that brought his masculinity into question, but this would never become relevant to the plot. After succesfully rinsing his mane, he retrieved a small, cheap plastic cup from the shower floor and relieved himself into it, before attempting to drink the result. Needless to say, he failed miserably.

Alan spent the next hour attempting to self-pleasure, before deciding that it was a fruitless endeavor and ending his shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist (Girth? Barrel?) and stepped out into the hallway. As he walked through the door, however, he was hit with the sudden realisation that he was, for want of a better term, a foul bachelor. As he prepared to dry his long, dark hair, only one thought crossed his mind.

I need a roommate.





My Little Pony: The Next Generation?

Alan Gets A Roommate





The following afternoon (which, fortunately for the sake of our story, was a Saturday) is where the narrative picks up. Alan was at a sushi bar, staring out the window when he heard a brief scuffle behind him.

'God damn it, I just want to be seated without being tripped! Is that so hard?!' exclaimed an angry female voice behind Alan.

'Ah, come oan, gie's an upskirt!' replied an incredibly unsophisticated male voice from a nearby table.

'No can do, buster, I'm wearing shorts,' replied the first voice. Alan immediately recognized her distinctive Lower Canterlot accent, normally associated with magic students and postal employees.

'Ah, fair enough, hen, e'll know next time,' replied the other voice. Alan turned around to see that it belonged to a middle-aged griffon hassling a young mare.

'You'd better,' said the mare as the waitress escorted her to the seat next to Alan, who had not yet decided on his order. He now had a clearer view of her. She had a striking magenta coat, and a distinctive purple mane (and tail, naturally) with yellow highlights. But perhaps her most distinctive feature was that she had both wings and a horn.

Must be one of those weird royal ponies, thought Alan, who ultimately decided not to comment.

'Don't worry about him,' he said, 'He's just drunk.'

'Are all griffons like that?' questioned the mare.

'No,' replied Alan, 'Just him. I'm Alan, by the way.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Alan,' replied the mare, 'I'm Skyla.'

'Now that is a name,' replied Alan. 'Hey, you're not from around here, are you?'

'I'm from the Crystal Empire,' replied Skyla, 'What tipped you off?'

'Your accent, mostly. It really sounded more Canterlot, but I'm hardly an expert.'

'Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't have connections there,' replied Skyla, 'But I'd rather not say too much; these things usually come back to bite me in the ass.'

'Yee, why ruin a perfectly good ass?'

'That's the idea,' answered Skyla.

'Yee.'

'Yee?'

'Yee. It's a meme.'

'Oh,' replied Skyla.

The two of them listened to the song playing in the background for a while, before Skyla spoke up.
'So what do you think I should have?'

'I don't know really, I usually just have some katsu, which isn't even technically sushi. Honestly, I'm mostly just here for the view,' answered Alan.

'Yeah, this is pretty sick,' replied Skyla.

'Yee.'





Sometime later, after both ponies had finished eating and paid their respective bills, they left the establishment to discuss its merits.

'I mean, the food's great and I'd kill my sister for a view like that, but I really don't see why it has to be so fucking expensive,' said Skyla.

'Inorite?' replied Alan.

'Yeah... Can't argue with that view, though,' continued Skyla.

'Yee... I love your outfit, by the way,' commented Alan, gesturing towards Skyla's open-fronted grey jacket and plain black t-shirt, which were complimented by a short, black pleated skirt with a distinctive neon-purple flame design.

'Thanks. I had it custom-made by one of my aunt's friends,' replied Skyla, 'Expensive, but well worth it.'

'O rly?' replied (?) Alan.

'Yeah, I was in Ponyville, staying with relatives, when my uncle says I need a new casual outfit. So he takes me round to the local dressmaker's shop to have me fitted,' answered Skyla, 'And the seamstress, I think her name was Rarity or something, kept going on about working for royalty and how she grew up wanting to be a fashionista and all that jazz.'

Alan looked in surprise at Skyla and said, 'Wait, did yee say Ponyville?'

'Yeah,' replied Skyla, 'You've been there?'

Alan laughed heartily. 'Been there? I was born there!'





The two semi-anthropomorphic equines spent the next several hours discussing Alan's childhood, although details regarding Skyla's past never seemed to come up.

'...And that's how I got here,' said Alan

'Woah,' said Skyla, 'Your life sure sounds epic.'

'Yee,' replied Alan, 'Except for one thing...'





Late at night, several weeks prior to the events detailed above, Alan had been sitting in his apartment when his attention was caught by an overwhelming odor. He knew it well. He hated it. He hated it with his very soul. He hated it, because he knew where it came from.

'Cake!'

Alan marched up to the door and opened it, to be met with the unspeakably repulsive face of Fat Jeff.

'What the fuck do you want at this time of night, lardass?'

The implausibly obese stallion glared at Alan. 'Do you have a... Girl in there with you, Cake?!' questioned the corrupt landlord as he took a bite out of an incredibly suspicious sandwich, covered in what Alan sincerely hoped was cheap mayonnaise.

'No,' replied the much younger (and infinitely thinner) Alan, 'I do not.'

Fat Jeff leaned in close, much to Alan's distaste, and said: 'Would you like one sent up?'





'What?' questioned Skyla.

'I... Don't want to talk about it,' replied Alan.





The conversation continued for some time and went to the most unlikely and absurd of locales, but the closest it ever came to Skyla's childhood was the following exchange:

'So, what exactly are you doing in Cloudsdale, anyway?' questioned Alan.

'Well, I just turned eighteen,' answered Skyla, 'So I decided to move out of my parents' house and... Oh, shit.'

'What?'

Skyla looked terrified. 'Oh, fuck no, this can't be happening!'

'What can't be happening?'

'No, no, no...' continued Skyla, 'This is all just a dream...'

Alan began to look progressively more worried. 'What? What's just a dream?'

Skyla grabbed Alan by the shoulders and looked him right in the eye. 'I have nowhere to stay!'





As I prepared to continue writing, I was rudely interrupted by an exceedingly bored trollsona.

Xo; X; wear exactly dee yee plan on going with thix xtoree?

I'm not sure yet.

Well llell, can;t yee at leaxt tell moy how thix chapter endx?

Not in front of the readers, Zoreth, we'll talk later.

Ok kO

Well, that was weird.

After that rather bizarre incident, I returned to Fimfiction and began my considerations on how to continue the chapter. Zoreth, on the other hand, returned to his hive to plan his next heist. I think. Now I think about it, he's probably just watching gay porn. Anyway, back to writing.





'What do you mean you have nowhere to stay?!' questioned an unsurprisingly shocked and concerned Alan.

Skyla was practically in tears. 'I was in such a rush to get away from my parents and my annoying sister that I didn't even think about what would happen when I got here! I hate myself right now...'

'I've heard of stupid, but this is a whole new level of dumb,' said Alan.

It was at that moment that Skyla burst into tears. 'I know!'

Alan gently stroked Skyla's shoulder, before pulling her into a warm and affectionate hug. 'It's ok, dumbass,' he said, gently running his hoof down her back, 'But I don't understand how your parents let you get away with a mistake like that.'

'They tried to tell me,' sobbed Skyla, 'But I just told them I had it all under control... Why didn't I listen?!'

'It's ok, it's ok... Hey! I've got an idea,' said Alan, 'You could stay with me!'

'Really?' asked Skyla, 'You mean that wouldn't be weird?'

'No, of course not,' replied Alan, 'Except... There is one thing...'

'What is it?'

'I don't actually have a spare bed, so you'd have to sleep on the couch,' said Alan.

'Aw, that's ok,' said Skyla, 'I don't mind sharing.'

'What.'

Skyla was stunned. 'Alan, I'm serious,' she said.

Alan was even more stunned. 'You mean... You and me... You... And me... In the bed... The same bed... In a completely non-sexual way... And that's not weird?!'

'Depends who you ask,' replied Skyla.

Alan's face quickly brightened. 'If you ask me, it's the best idea I've ever heard! We should get going right now!'

'I have to get my bags first,' said an excited Skyla, 'But we can go straight back to your place after that!'

'Okyay,' said a similarly excited Alan, 'Where are ye bags?'

'With my aunt and uncle in Ponyville. It's a short flight, so give me, say, twenty minutes?'

'Ok,' said Alan, 'I'll be right here.'

And without a word, Skyla dissapeared into the distance.





Twenny Minnets 18r





Alan was sitting on a small bench in one of the traffic-free areas of the street when Skyla returned and sat next to him.

'Hey, Alan,' she said.

The young fishmonger was jerked out of a deep thought by what seemed, at least from his perspective, to be the sudden appearance of a young woman (Mare?) beside him.

'Aww, hey, Skyla,' he said, 'You got the bags?'

'Yeah,' said Skyla, 'Now can we go to your place so we can drop these off?'

'Yee.'

Skyla was exstatic. 'Fuck yeah! Lead the way!'

And so he did.





It did not take them long to reach the apartment building at which Alan resided, and Skyla was awestruck at the sheer scale of the structure.

'Is this... The Van der Griff Building?'

'Absolutely,' replied Alan, 'Tallest building in Cloudsdale, second if you count the old broadcast tower.'

Skyla remained awestruck. 'And you live here?'

Alan was more confident than ever before. 'Top floor, best views in town. And that's where you're going to be staying.'

Skyla was growing progressively more awestruck. 'But... How can you afford the rent?!'

'Landlord's got a bad reputation,' answered Alan, 'Something to do with a festival in Griffonstone. No-one wants the place, goes dirt-cheap.'

And with that, I once again contracted writer's block.





In order to escape the most wicked curse of the narrative, I decided to advance to the part where Alan and Skyla enter the lobby, and hope that the reader would not perceive this as hopelessly lazy writing.





As Alan and Skyla entered the somewhat-grandiose lobby, they were noticed by a certain receptionist by the name of Dave. Remember Dave? That didn't stop being a thing or anything.

'Hey, Alan. I gave Fat Jeff your insult and he says you don't want to know,' said Dave, who immediately noticed Skyla. 'And this young lady is?'

'Yeh, this is Skyla. She's looking for a place to stay,' said Alan.

'Just like you, huh?' said Dave, ignoring this blatant example of beige prose on my part.

‘Inorite,’ said Alan, ‘Good times, amirite?’

‘Yeah...’ replied(!) Dave, ‘Anyway, I got some stuff to sort out, so...’

‘Anything in particular?’ questioned Alan.

‘Well, first I’m going to watch the TV news, then I’m going to check out the online news, and then I have to go and rethink my life,’ answered Dave.

‘Bad idea,’ cautioned Alan.

‘How so?’ assed (asked, surely?) Dave.

‘I’ll tell you later,’ said Alan, ‘Anyway, I have to take a piss.’

'Yeah, I have to go as well,' said Skyla, 'So, uh, it was nice meeting you, uh...'

'Dave,' replied (who else?) Dave.

And with that, Alan and Skyla headed upstairs.





After a short elevator ride1, Alan and Skyla arrived at the topmost floor of the apartment complex.

Skyla looked at Alan as the two approached the sole visible door. 'So, Alan, is that the one?'

Alan glanced casually back at his new roommate-who-happens-to-be-a-girl and said: 'Yeh. It's pretty epic.'

'Yeah...'

Alan unlocked the door. 'Et voila!'

Skyla stepped through the door and was immediately taken aback. 'Woah,' she said, 'Is this real or are you just fucking with me to try and get in my pants?'

Her reaction was understandable. The apartment was one of the largest she had ever seen, with a massive sloped window that made up an entire wall, supported by a well-made brass frame (or, at least Skyla thought it was well-made; despite her uncle being an accomplished clockmaker and metallurgist, she had no knowledge of architectural metalwork). The exquisitely-carpeted room was dominated as much by two red leather couches located perpendicular to each other with a three-foot gap to pass through as it was by the aforementioned window, with one of these couches being directly adjacent to a wooden table displaying a rather large and elaborate sound system. As much as I am presumably expected to wax lyrical about the exact details of Alan Cake's residence, I do not wish to bore my readers or, indeed, myself with an exceedingly long descriptive paragraph, therefore, I will leave as much as possible to the imagination.

Alan laughed at Skyla's remark. 'Girl, I'm not that kind of guy. Even if I did have a crush on you, I'd want at least a day or two to get to know you before I tried to put anything near your junk.'

Skyla looked relieved at this; or at least as relieved as a young woman with a surprisingly small, rapidly-filling bladder could without taking an acting class. 'Yeah,' she said, 'Which reminds me, we both gotta pee, right2?'

'Yeh,' Alan gestured towards the bathroom, 'Just down the hall; it's the one with the frosted glass.'

'Thanks, Alan,' replied Skyla, 'But I think you should really go first.'

'If it's just a leak, I can wait,' said Alan, 'Besides, you obviously have to go more than I do. You go first.'

'Ok, I'll be blunt,' said Skyla, 'I'm tense. I've lived in the same house all my life, the one I was literally born in, I don't get out much, this is a city I've only ever seen from a distance before, and my nerves are fucked. I'm not sure how long it'll take me to pee right now, but you have no idea how uncooperative my bladder can be when I'm like this.'

'It's fine,' said Alan, 'I'll just go on the roof. You take as much time as you need.'

'Really?' asked Skyla, 'You're okay doing that?' 

'Of course,' answered Alan, 'I do it all the time. And remember, don't try to force it out. Focus on where you want it to go, not where it's coming from. That usually works for me.'

'Thanks...' said Skyla, as Alan made his way out of the room.

1Yes, they have elevators. This is an AU fic; I don't have to explain anything!
2I swear to Lucifer this was not meant to rhyme!




This is almost finished, I swear!

Are yee xure aboat that; X?

Yes, Zoreth, I'm "xure!"

Donut maek pun of mai obligatory Typing Quirk!

That's not the point!

Well; it;x certainly bigga than ye "point!"

I can live with that.





After Alan had left the room, Skyla made her way down the small hallway at the opposite end of the room from the door where she had first entered. There were four doors, the nearest marked by frosted glass, as Alan had sed3. Skyla opened this first door and entered the bathroom.

Alan's bathroom was nothing particularly remarkable. A rather out-of-place-looking porcelain toilet with a walnut-effect seat, a more modern-looking sink, complete with cabinet; partially-tiled white walls, a frosted glass window (naturally), and what was presumably the only stone floor in Cloudsdale. But its most striking feature, at least from Skyla's perspective, was the large shower cubicle of the domestic sort commonly seen in hotels. Owing to her somewhat-sheltered upbringing, Skyla had only very rarely seen such things and had no idea that they were found in residential housing. This, however, was largely irrelevant.

Having taken in her surroundings, Skyla had no hesitation in undressing her lower half and sitting down on the toilet, before remembering Alan's advice. She calmly took a deep breath, and looked past her unmetionables into the toilet. It was a few seconds before she was able to urinate, but eventually she felt a gentle flow of fluid emerging from between her legs. As her stream became stronger, Skyla began to realise that there was no way her embarassingly small bladder could hold so much liquid. Had she posessed Alan's worldly experience and knowledge, she would have known that urine never seemed to obey the normal laws of volume and pressure. After a moment, the stream dwindled, and then stoppped. Skyla then took four sheets of toilet paper, which she used to gently clean her unmentionables before standing up, pulling up her underwear, and allowing her skirt to fall back down4.

3If you can't tell that the misspelling is 100% intentional, then you are 100% stupid!
4Whether she also washed her hooves, as well as the matter of whether or not they actually were hooves, I will leave open to interperetation.




After Skyla had left the bathroom, she was greeted by Alan with the following words:

'Hey, how'd it go?'

'Great. Thanks for the advice.'

'Yee,' replied Alan, 'I wasn't sure if it'd work the same way for a girl, butt it seems to have helped you.'

'Yeah,' said Skyla, 'That was a pretty great pee. How was yours?'

'Eh, same old, same old. It's the sort of thing you can only do so many times before the novelty wears off.'

'Yeah...' said Skyla, 'So, what are we doing for dinner?'

Alan looked thoughtful. 'Well,' he said, 'I was thinking we could--'

TO BE CONTINUED