GREEN
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2072 11.7 KB 303
2072 11.7 KB 303
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>It's hard to describe an opioid to someone who has never done one.
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>Imagine the most comfortable you've ever been, then triple it.
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>That's a decent estimation.
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>The day after, your own skin feels scratchy and uncomfortable to live in.
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>One can see how the habit forms.
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>I don't really blame myself.
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>Men are nothing more than genetics and environment, after all.
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>And with my environment, and my genetics?
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>At least I was functioning.
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>I open the door to my apartment.
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>Stripping to my underwear, I lie on the floor with my laptop.
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>A quality mare for a quality gentleman.
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>Good thing I picked up yesterday.
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>Stash was getting low.
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>I pack my opium pipe.
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>Tunes:Pumping.
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>Pipe:Smoking.
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>Lyra:SMOKING.
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>Me:Happy.
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>I lean back into my escapism, entering my favorite fantasy.
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>It plays out the same every time I imagine it.
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>I'm laying on my back, in a void.
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>My eyes are shut, but I don't think I would see anything even if they were open.
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>The ground is cold.
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>After a few minutes I hear hoof-steps approaching me.
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>It's Lyra.
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>She sniffs my body from my toes to my head, before settling on a favorite spot.
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>The body part is different every time.
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>This go, it's my neck.
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"Look, oats!"
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>"No Lyra, It's not oats!" I want to scream.
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>Much like my eyes, my mouth is useless here.
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>She leans down and takes the first bite.
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>The bite is clean.
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>It feels more like I am made of cake then meat and blood.
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>I want to sit up, and shake her until she stops.
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>I want to moan, and gasp, and scream.
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>It hurts.
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>Lyra takes her time.
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>Bite by bite.
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>A short time passes and more ponies approach.
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>These ones are faceless, unlike Lyra.
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>I am consumed from all directions.
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>The pain is endless.
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>It's wonderful.
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"Hey?"
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>This was wrong.
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>There shouldn't be any voices.
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"What the hell happened to you?"
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>Something was interrupting your ecstasy.
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>You open your eyes.
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...
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>Sunlight.
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>Sunlight hurts.
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>You are no longer in your apartment.
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>More importantly, you were coming down.
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>And sooner than usual.
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>Your eyes adjust to your surroundings.
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>OH SHIT
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>A 6 foot tall, half-cat, half-bird creature is looking at you.
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>Nothing like a massive predator to get the old juicer pumpin'.
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>You instinctively scramble back a few feet.
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"What, you scared of me, small fry?"
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>Talking.
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>It was talking.
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>Talking means not going to eat you (hopefully).
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>You slow your breathing.
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>As you do, you recognize what you're seeing.
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>It's Gilda.
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>Gilda, from my little pony.
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>The cartoon.
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"Cat got your tongue? Snrk."
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>"I'm, uh- where am I?"
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"What, you hit your head or something?"
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>After seeing your expression, she gives you an actual answer.
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"Griffonstone."
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>Well, that confirmed it.
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>You look up at the sky.
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>"Wow."
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"Oh, by the way. What the fuck are you?"
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>You look back at Gilda.
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>"Human."
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"Never heard of it."
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>"I'm far away from the homeland."
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"Why ya here then?"
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>"Last thing I remember was being in my apartment."
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>Gilda narrows her eyes.
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"Musta been pony shenaniganry."
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>"Sounds about right."
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>You had your own suspicious about that one.
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>Something something "I wish to travel to Equestria" something.
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>Gilda glances at the sun.
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"Anyway, you alright? I really should be going."
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>"Fine, just fine. You happen to know where Ponyville is?"
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"Ugh, I wish I didn't."
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>She points her claw off the face of the mountain.
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"Thataways."
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>"Thanks."
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"Yeah, no problem. You need a lift down the mountain? It's not out of my way."
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>"I think I'll be alright."
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"Alright then. See ya, human."
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>"Bye."
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...
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>Be retarded.
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>You fully regret not taking Gilda up on her offer.
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>Damn misplaced sense of bravado and wonder.
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>It's beginning to become night, and you're wearing nothing but your underwear.
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>You've only made it halfway down the mountain to boot.
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>For the last 20 minutes or so you've been looking for any form of shelter.
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>Shit though, in this weather you'll get frostbite either way.
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>You opt to continue down the mountain.
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>...
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>His palms are blistered.
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>Feet raw.
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>Legs' not ready.
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>There's vomit on his sweater already: Mom's spaghetti.
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>He's nervous.
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>But on the surface he's not calm he's sweaty.
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>The climb down.
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>But he keeps almost slippin'.
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>If he fell down, certain death: not the best.
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>He opens his mouth, his raspy breaths come out.
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>He's choking, how? And his bodies failin' now.
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>The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow!
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>Snap back to reality, ope there goes gravity, ope.
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>There goes Anon, he choked, he's so mad but he won't.
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>Give up that easy, no, he won't have it, he knows.
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>His whole back's to these ropes, it don't matter, he's dope.
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>He knows that but he's broke, he's so stagnant, he knows.
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>...
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>You've made it.
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>Sure, you fell the last 10 feet.
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>Su re, your ankle is very possible sprained.
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>Sure, you're miles from civilization with no survival skills or resources.
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>But you do have one card still in your sleeve.
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>Or rather, In the undies.
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>You pull an opium pipe and small stash.
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>For emergencies only.
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>Lovingly taped to your groin each morning.
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>You'd have to conserve.
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>You doubt horse land has any of the good stuff at all.
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>Withdrawal probably wouldn't kill you, but would be one son of a bitch.
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>You toke a modest amount.
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>Heh, great, ankle don't hurt no more.
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>Time to keep walking.
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>Step after step, Anon.
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>Step after step.
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>...
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>Three days.
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>Without food.
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>Thank god for the river you've found and since been following.
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>You estimate to be somewhere in the Everfree forest.
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>Thank god for the Equestrian-Griffonstone land bridge.
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>You were damn close to your goal.
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>Lyra, that damn sexy mare.
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>Hrng.
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>You ran out of that delicious black goo™ last night.
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>You've had a rough cough ever since the mountain.
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>However, you've stumbled across a certain hut in the woods.
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>"Zecora, I bet she would help me."
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"Oh, how curious, a new creature I see. Stranger, even, that he seems to know me"
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>Well shit.
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>She was behind you.
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"I see you are hungry, so come after me. I'll make a soup to provide what you need."
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>"Thank you."
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>With a weak smile you follow Zecora.
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>You sit and watch as she mixes various ingredients into a stew.
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>As you demolish the bowl she hands you, she speaks.
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"Where, creature, did you hear my name? I don't believe I'm a zebra of fame,"
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>Brain, it's lyin' time.
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>"Gilda. A griffon named Gilda mentioned you. It was a lucky guess really."
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>She looks at you with suspicion.
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"I will not press you, but pay heed here. The last zigga who lied was impaled by my spear."
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>You really hope that isn't a euphemism.
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>You spend a short time with Zecora before she bandages your wounds and you bid her goodbye.
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>As thanks, you gave her your opium pipe. Not like you would be needing it.
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>Sun high in the sky, headache pounding in your head, you begin the final steps toward Ponyville.
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>...
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>It's hard to describe Ponyville to someone who has never been there.
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>Imagine the most beautiful village you've ever seen, then triple it's beauty.
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>Or maybe that perceived beauty was simply because of how hard it was to get here.
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>You walk into town.
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>Ponies stand still and gawk when they see you.
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>A few skittish ones run away on sight.
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>You ignore all of them.
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>A confused twilight sparkle is trying to capture your attention.
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>BackgroundPonies.Rannoying
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>And then you see her.
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>The point of this entire brain-dead journey.
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>She was walking into a house.
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>You follow her, slamming the door open.
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>She jumps a foot into the air and stares wide eyed at you.
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>You lie on the floor, eyes closed.
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>This was it.
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>Everything you had fantasized.
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>It was about to happen.
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>The floor is cold.
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>After a few minutes you hear a pony talking.
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"Umm, what are you doing?"
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>"I'm ready."
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>...
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>...
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"Ready?"
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>You crack an eye open at that.
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>This isn't right.
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>"I'm oats. I'm ready for you to eat me, Lyra."
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"Uhhhhhhh"
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"Ummmmmmm"
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>You stand up from the floor and look around.
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>Lyra and Twilight are staring at you like you're a freakshow.
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>This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
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>This wasn't how any of this was supposed to happen.
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>"No. Please."
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>You kneel before Lyra, and she cringes as you put your hands on her shoulders.
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>"You have to. You have to eat me! I've seen it so many times! I've felt it! Please!"
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>Lyra continues to stare at you.
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>You clutch your head in your hands.
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>"No. NO!"
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>You break with a guttural scream and leave the house.
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>Ponies that were watching from just outside scatter to allow you to pass.
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>No one follows you.
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>You walk to the edge of town, and sit down.
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>For the first time since you were a kid, you cry.
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>No pony.
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>No narcotics.
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>You have nothing to live for.
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>The only thing you have to rely on is opium.
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>Opium that most likely doesn't exist in this world.
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>Wait.
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>Most likely?
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>A thread of hope.
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>You quickly single out the mare most likely to know about the stuff, and head to Sugarcube Corner.
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>"Pinkie Pie."
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"Oh! Hello! How do you know me? I don't know you! Ooh, are we friends? Can we be friends?"
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>"Pinkie. In this world, does there exist a black, flammable substance with useful smoke?"
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"Hmmmmm."
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>She rubs her chin in thought.
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"Tar?"
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>"No. Not tar."
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"HMMMMMMMM"
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>She thoughtfully puffs on a bubble-pipe.
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"Oh! You must mean that flower gunk stuff! Here, come with me!"
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>You feel slightly better.
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>Like complete shit, but slightly better.
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>You follow Pinkie upstairs into her room.
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>She pulls a huge ball of top shelf shit out of her dresser.
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>You never had stuff this good back on Earth.
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>Wait, whydoes she even have a dresser?
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>"Pinkie. Can we smoke this?"
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"Welllllll we could, but my fatty pipe broke! And there aren't any more!"
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[spoiler]You really hope that isn't a euphemism.[/spoiler]
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>No. It couldn't be true.
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>"No more?"
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"Yep no more pipes! And we can't make anymore either!"
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>You take a step back.
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>Your heart is beating 2.536 miles a minute.
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>You hear yourself hyperventilating.
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>Zecora!
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>Zecora has the pipe.
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>You grab the ball from Pinkie and sprint out of Ponyville.
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>The forest blurs past.
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>"ZECORA!"
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>She is standing outside of her hut.
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"Ah, yes, my new friend, for what reason have you come again?"
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>"ZECORA! THE PIPE! I NEED IT!"
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"In my stomach is where the pipe sits, I should inform you it was delish."
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>She ate it.
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>SHE FUCKING ATE IT.
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>You scream into the air.
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>Pushing Zecora aside, you stomp into her hut.
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>You grab the spear hanging above her doorway.
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"No! Stop! The spear, let it drop!
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>You grit your teeth, kneeling and holding the spear against your chest.
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>Your aim was true.
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>Pain that Lyra refused to grant you blossomed out from your chest.
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>Heh, thanks for all the hard work, old juicer.
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>Sorry to cut your time short.
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>You hear Zecora rapidly mixing a potion.
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>No way she would be able to make it in time.
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>This time on the ground, you're warm.
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>You smile and let your eyelids close.
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>Your last thoughts are of the green mare with a harp on her ass.
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>And what an ass it was.
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>Farming was hard work.
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>Nothing a proud earth pony like you couldn't handle.
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>Still, you were glad to be done for the day.
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>You stand next to another field hand.
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"Ay, huckleberry, you ever heard that this place used to be a graveyard?"
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>"No shit?"
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"Really. My sister stumbled apon some musty document. Apparently if somethin' nasty turned up and got kilt, they threw it here."
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>"Hmph. Makes me feel a little worse about my work. Who the hell plants an oat field over a graveyard, anyway?"
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"Makes sense to me."
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>...
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>It was a good strong harvest.
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>The oats were prepped as usual and sent away to be bagged.
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>After that they ended up on shelves all across Equestria.
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>A certain green mare, feeling nostalgic, pics up a bag of her old favorite brand.
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>It has a strange savory tang to it.
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>She recalls an incident years ago in Ponyville.
by Rusty_Snoot
by Rusty_Snoot
by Rusty_Snoot
by Rusty_Snoot
by Rusty_Snoot