Summer had just started, and everyone was out partying, still at this time of the day most likely. It was the first day of summer and school was out, it was practically obligatory to go to or have a party on the day school ended. And everyone obliged, except for one person. He was just glad to get away from everyone, he didn’t want spend any non-required time around those people. This strange person was Allen Ross, a male in his late teens with a punk style look. At this time in the morning, he is asleep, passed out cold with his typical daytime attire still on; skinny jeans and a long sleeve shirt with his favorite band’s name printed on the front. His already disturbed sleep was abruptly ended as some jackass decided to ring his doorbell and run away as he answered.
Typical graduates.
He shouted out a lovely greeting consisting of more profanities than actual words at him and slammed his door shut, rubbing his eyes and lying down on the couch, trying fruitlessly to sleep again. He put a pillow over his face and slammed his feet onto the couch, groaning. It was obvious was wasn’t getting any sleep, so he got up and make himself breakfast, ignoring the fact that he wasn’t even hungry. It was still something to do. He heard a ding and looked at the toaster. It wasn’t done. Someone was ringing his fucking doorbell. Again. He ignored it until something no prankster would do happened. It rang again. Who would ring his doorbell so early in the morning and actually ring it to speak to him?
He opened the door, scratching his head, his messy hairstyle only adding to his punkish attire, making him look like that kind of person you’d avoid in public. He was about to just tell them to buzz off, but something caught him off guard. It was an odd looking girl, for lack of better description, hateful but afraid, as if the fear had drowned the hate. Her hair color was a bit odd too, dark pink? Allen had no clue who she was or why she was there, but she was.
“Uh… hello…?” He scratched his head again and examined her. Greyish-pink dress, a trim body, and… was that a chokechain? Odd. From the neck up she has a punk appearance, from shoulders down she had a more innocent appearance. Not your everyday clothing style.
She answered him slowly, seeming to have trouble finding the right words, or… words at all.
“Uhh… I… I’m lost.” She said, her voice shaking, her eyes wandering everywhere except for near him. “And… uh… a lot of the houses are noisy… but yours wasn’t… so I uh… I was wondering if maybe I could stay here, if it’s not too much of a problem…? I-…” she paused again for a while, moving her mouth as if suddenly losing her ability to speak, or as if looking for the right thing to say. “I don’t mean to… im- impose… but I don’t even know how I got… here…” She looked like she was on the verge of crying, with the saddest and most pleading look on her face. She twiddled her fingers as she spoke as well, all together giving the feeling of a lost little girl speaking rather than a grown woman.
She was way too fragile to let around those drunken dumbasses, and he’d feel guilty if he said no anyways. Motioning inside he stepped back and looked around outside as she walked in to make sure that this wasn’t some kind of fucked up joke too. It looked clear, so he closed the door gently, looking at her. She was just standing there, twiddling her fingers idly and looking at him curiously.
“Well, aren’t you gonna tell me about yourself? What’s your name? How did you get so lost, and why in god’s name are you dressed like that?” He asked, doing his best to sound curious rather than irritated, walking back into the kitchen to take care of breakfast.
“I’m… I…” Her voice was really shaking at this point. She was about to break. And break she did. She burst into tears and clung to Allen’s shoulders, pressing her face into his chest and sobbing, letting out a stream of broken words. “I don’t know I’m so lost I don’t know where I am or how I got here and all of my friends abandoned me and everyone is so rude and it’s so loud here and I’m—I’m scared!”
Allen jumped back a bit in surprise at her actions but didn’t push her off. It looked like she needed a shoulder to cry on, badly. He stood there and listened, softening his tone as he finally was able to speak. It was like a little girl trapped inside a grown female’s body was clinging to him, sobbing, lost an confused with nobody to turn to. “Hey, hey, hey…” he said quietly, rubbing her back slowly. “It’s gonna be alright… I’ll help you find your friends, don’t worry."
She looked up at him, sniffling and wiping a tear from her cheek, locking her watery eyes onto his, the slightest look of hope on her face, which quickly turned to a frown at his last statement. “They aren’t my friends any more…” she said quietly, taking her arms off him and hanging her head.
“Oh, uh…” He was never really good at talking about friends, since he never really took the time to give a damn about his. So he changed the subject. “Look, uh, you could probably use some clothes, I’ll just go grab you something…” He said, backing up into his room. He didn’t get a response from her, not that he was expecting one. Walking back out of the room with a pair of grey skinny jeans in on arm and short-sleeved tee in the other, he walked out and set them on the couch next to her.
“So, look, uh. I’m gonna go in my room, you know, give you some privacy. So, uh. Yeah.” He shrugged and walked back into his room, peeking out after a couple of minutes, having heard no noise. “Do you not want to—“
She was standing in the same spot, but with the clothes he’d given her on, looking at him with a tiny smile, the sadness seeming to have just left her. “Oh, wow… I didn’t even hear you.”
She put her hands behind her back and looked at her feet nervously. “Thank you for the clothes, mister… Er, what—what’s your name…?”
“My name’s Allen. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked yours earlier. What’s your name?” Allen asked, studying her movements. “And what’s with, well, everything? The way you were dressed, the color of your hair…”
“I don’t know, I just found the dress and put it on… And I was born with pink hair. Don’t you have people born with different hair colors?” She looked at him funny, as if it was something everyone should know about.
“Uh, no…?” He sighed, all of the pieces fitting together. Thinking she was born with pink hair, not knowing why she was wearing a dress, having trouble speaking. She was probably just another person who got hammered and lost it. But something wasn’t right. She wasn’t walking funny, she didn’t have a slur… He decided he’d wait it out and see what was really going on. “And you didn’t answer my first question. What’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry… My name’s—” At that very moment, the toaster’s alarm went off, telling Allen that the toast was done.
“Hold that thought.” Allen went to the toaster and pulled out two slices of toast, setting them on a plate. “Want something to eat?”
“Oh, uh, yes… yes please. Do you have any daisies, perhaps?”
“Daisies.”
“Y-yes… for the sandwich…”
“That what they’re calling drugs now?”
“Oh, no! I- I would never… I meant the flower…”
Allen rubbed his temples. “No. No I don’t have daisies.” He held out the toast. “I have toast.”
She took it gratefully, smiling timidly as she took a small bite. “Th-thank you. For everything… Everyone else was so rude to me…”
“Not a problem. If the, uh… ‘noisy people’ had gotten their hands on you, well, that wouldn’t have been good.” He hurriedly ate his toast and washed off the plate, sitting on the couch. “Look, I could use some rest. Those idiots kept me up all night. If you want to sleep too, I can use the couch. If not, I’ll go sleep in my room and you can get yourself situated while I sleep. That is, if you’re planning on staying.”
“Thank you, but I just slept a little while ago… And yes, I would very much like to stay, I promise I won’t bother you or anything, I just don’t have anywhere else to go…” She set her breakfast down and looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t even have anyone to call, I’m so alone in this world…”
He sighed, walking into his room and pausing in the doorway. “You can stay as long as you need, just don’t cause any trouble.” He closed the door halfway and looked out again. “And I’m sorry that you feel that way.” He could relate, as much as he hated to admit it. He didn’t even like his friends, and nobody seemed to understand him but, well, him. “I’ll see you when I wake up then.”
The first few days were a bit awkward for them both, she was still nervous and having trouble finding the words to say at times, and he still trying to figure out what it was about her that felt so strange. But as the days passed, they grew closer, and she began to smile more than frown, her grasp on words growing more solid, and her fearful attitude subsiding. In about a week’s time, they’d grown closer through their own separation from the outside world.
The two of them sat together, watching a movie, one of his favorites. Allen had been told by his friend a few times that she was uncomfortable with the violent scenes in some of the movies, but she watched anyways, so he figured it didn’t really matter all that much to her. She’d usually rest her head on his shoulder as they watched, wrap her arms around him. She got pretty friendly pretty fast, but he wasn’t complaining.
As the movie ended, he paused, suddenly remembering something. He didn’t know why it took him this long to remember, but it just hit him that after a week, he still didn’t know her name. He’d just called her Pinks since her hair was pink. And it became obvious to him that it was her natural hair color, somehow, because she showered every day, and the color never faded even a little bit. He looked at her and tilted his head a bit. “Hey, Pinks. I just remembered. I still haven’t gotten your name!”
She just looked at him and pouted. “But I like Pinks! I don’t wanna tell you my real name… you’ll think it’s stupid!” She rested her chin on his shoulder.
“Oh c’mon. No names are stupid, and besides, I can still call you Pinks if you want. Just tell me your name.”
“No!” she giggled playfully and pressed her face into his neck. “I don’t wanna!”
Allen rolled his eyes and rustled her hair, finding it impossible not to crack a grin at her cute behavior. “Whatever, have it your way then, Pinks. Oh! Now that the movie’s over, I’m gonna go buy some groceries. Want me to get anything special for you?”
“Naaaah, I’ll just eat what you eat!”
“Alrighty, back in about an hour. Don’t blow the house up!” He joked, opening the door and walking out, getting into his car, a – and he always laughed at his car because of a joke he remembered from one of Jeff Dunham’s videos – Prius. No matter how hard he tried, it was still a Prius, even with the slick black paint job and the big skull on the hood, it was a Prius. He started it up and drove off.
An hour and ten minutes later, he drove in to his driveway and got out, hearing something coming from the inside. Something with a beat. No way… He got closer to be sure. He heard a guitar and someone singing. He’d tried to get her to listen to his music a couple of times before but she’d always said no.
He walked opened the door and walked in found a second surprise. She was laying down on the couch, one leg on the back support, one on the cushions, wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers and one of his shirts which she’d cut the bottom half off of, now leaving herself rather exposed. But that wasn’t the surprise – she seemed to have trouble understanding that clothes were something to be worn at all times – the surprise was how comfortable she looked, and how much she was enjoying the music.
“Heya! What took you so long?”
Allen looked to her, then the stereo, then back to her. “Never mind that, what made you decide to listen to my music now of all times? I tried to get you to listen to it before but you said no!”
“I dunno, I got bored.” She shrugged and smiled.
“Well okay yeah, glad you like it. Now c’mon, how many times do I have to tell you to keep your clothes on, Pinks?”
“But I don’t get it! It’s like suffocating your skin, why do you do it?” She whined. “It’s so duuuuumb.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Come on. Change.”
“Ugh.” She got up and walked over to his room. As she turned her back, he noticed a big pink arrow pointing down on the back of her shirt. He followed the arrow’s instructions and looked down to find, printed in equally bright pink, a word. One word. A name.
Pinkamina.
Hello, I’ve got a story to tell you. A story of how I learned to cope with an entire new world with the help of one person. One very special person. A story of how I met someone just like me.
It all started with a strange event, even I don’t know how it happened. A spell gone wrong maybe? It doesn’t matter. All I know is that I awoke to find myself in a completely different environment, one I would have loved if my fear and confusion hasn’t overwhelmed me. I hid myself away until I could get my bearings together, then I began my search for shelter. Somewhere I could get away from it all until I could figure out exactly what was going on.
House after house I tried, most slamming the door in my face before I could even finish my sentence, one person even spat on me and called me a word I’d prefer not to use. Clearly I stood out more than I thought. A lot of the houses were noisy with lots of flashing lights, but I saw one house in the middle of it all that was silent. By instinct, I tried that house next and was greeted by a frustrated young man who looked like he’d had just about enough of the noise as well. He was most generous, taking me in right away, but he did seem to be unnerved by my presence, which of course, didn’t surprise me.
But after a few hours he slowly began to look past that, and he was kind enough. He didn’t seem to be violent or rude at all, he looked… alone. Just like I was. I felt that maybe somewhere out there, Celestia was still watching over me. Maybe I’d found him for a reason. I had to admit to myself, he was kind of cute. Odd how quickly I grew accustomed to humans, and to being one myself. Perhaps this was meant to be.
As hours became days, he grew warmer and I grew fonder of him. The movies he tried to get me to watch weren’t exactly my kind of movie, but that’s not why I watched them. I wanted to be close to him. Why? It was not affection, it wasn’t love, it was simply because I needed him and he needed me. I could sense that he was a loner too, and me? I was tired of it. I found a new friend, one I could trust, and one who was nice. Pinkie Pie was no more. Pinkie was the friend of Twilight and her friends. I didn’t need them now though, for I found something better.
He resisted my affectionate actions when we watched movies, but I knew that wouldn’t last long. He went out to get groceries and I decided to give him a brilliant surprise. He’d tried to get me to listen to his music, but I’d said no at first. But slowly, his punk-ish clothes became me. His own punk-rocker style and attitude must’ve rubbed off, I don’t know. I popped in one of his CDs and started playing it. It sounded horrible at first. Just screeching and loud noises, but as I began to actually listen to it, the noises blended and became harmonious. Then I got another idea. An idea to give him a hint as to what my name was.
By that time, I was already in my short shirt and boxers, and to this day I still don’t get why humans cover up so much of their skin. It just doesn’t feel right to wear clothes everywhere. And I’m not a… you know the word. Ponies don’t wear clothes, why should I? Still, I respected him enough to keep something on. Quickly I slipped out of the clothes and looked around for something. I found some sort of gluey material, mixed it with a small amount of red dye, and produced a pink gel. Perfect. I put an arrow on the back of my shirt pointing down, writing my name on the back of the boxers.
I, of course, had to sit on the couch naked while I waited for it to dry. The humanity in me makes that word sound so dirty. Why? Ponies are naked all the time. That word never bothered us. But as a human it just sounds so filthy. Whatever. He got home, I was clothed again, and just as planned, he sure was surprised.
From that day on, he’s been showing me all this cool stuff, a bunch of good bands, and he even went so far as to deal with the embarrassment of buying me proper women’s clothing. I still don’t know how to handle people money. He’s the sweetest thing though, I knew he wasn’t a cold person. He just needed someone special. A true friend.
My name is Pinkamina Diane Pie, and I am that friend.
