UNTITLED


                                            >Be Anon.

                                            >You are sitting on the floor.

                                            >Your hands pressed into your face you rest against the hard, cold wall.

                                            >Through your fingers you see the pale blue light from the monitor, not strong enough to brighten the room.

                                            >More of a night light than anything.

                                            >The music from the speakers is some sad pop shit.

                                            >Just a girls voice singing about love or loss or something.

                                            >You take a sip from your half-empty beer.

                                            >It's number five.

                                            >You started drinking again.

                                            >Alone.

                                            >Just after you got everything you thought you needed.

                                            >A job you like, the posessions you thought you wanted and with being in home-office you evade all the fucks at work and save time and gas.

                                            >Not enough money to feel rich but enough money and time to follow your passions.

                                            >You don't even feel the need for vacation.

                                            >And yet you feel empty.

                                            >Not even the booze is doing it anymore.

                                            >You know you are drunk but you feel strangely sober.

                                            >Why do you feel so shitty when everything is working out fine?

                                            >The most contact with other people you have is through emails and the clerks at the store.

                                            >All your friends are busy.

                                            >If they still consider you a friend.

                                            >Can't blame them if they don't.

                                            >You never were much of a friend.

                                            >When asked out you went out of politeness.

                                            >Was it politeness?

                                            >Gotta love yourself before you can love others.

                                            >And now people don't really do friendship anymore.

                                            >People do families or acqaintaces now.

                                            >People function.

                                            >You function.

                                            >But not right.

                                            >More like a stuttering enginge of a truck, pulling a load it should not pull, tires loosing track and blowing black smoke out of the exhaustion pipe.

                                            >You leave you beer on the floor and get up.

                                            >There is some cheap wine in the kitchen you got with pizza you ordered something.

                                            >Was it with the steaks or the pizza?

                                            >Doesn't matter.

                                            >You don't even care about pizza anymore. You don't like burgers anymore.

                                            >It's all so worn out. You could some tasteless grey mush it wouldn't make any difference.

                                            >You stumble into the kitchen and take a look at the sink wondering if you should drink some water.

                                            >Less headache tomorrow.

                                            >But also less drunk today.

                                            >You can sleep till 10 no problem and nobody notices or cares as long as you do your work tomorrow.

                                            >You open the cheap wine and take a swig.

                                            >You shake yourself from the intense sweetness.

                                            >God this is disgusting.

                                            >But it is something.

                                            >You should order the sweetest wine you can find.

                                            >You take another big gulp.


                                            >Be headache.

                                            >The buzzing of the doorbell wakes you from your slumber or black-out.

                                            >You try to raise your head off the sticky floor.

                                            >The music is still playing.

                                            >Slowly get up tring not to vomit.

                                            >The bell rings again.

                                            >You press your hands into your face.

                                            "Fuuuuuuuuuuuucccckkkk! I'm coming!"

                                            >One wonky step at a time you make your way towards the door.

                                            >A delivery guy rushes inside with a big fucking smile and a giant packet on a wheeler.

                                            >You have never seen a delivery guy this cheerful.

                                            >Delivery guys should not be cheerful.

                                            >There are laws against this.

                                            >Shaking your head you ask yourself why the fuck he is in your appartment.

                                            "Your packet, sir!"

                                            >Taking the papers out of his hand you sign on the blurred line.

                                            "What time is it?"

                                            >"Quater past nine."

                                            >Still in time for work. Nice.

                                            >He takes the papers out of you hand and gives you a little bow.

                                            >The fuck?

                                            >Not sure if you like or hate this.

                                            >"Thank you for shopping at Equis Sales and have a nice day, Sir!"

                                            "Yeah, sure, whatever."

                                            >He turns around walks out with a spring in his step.

                                            >You decide that whatever you ordered can wait, time for a beer to fight the hangover.

                                            >So you fetch a beer out of the fridge and take a big gulp to counter the worst effects.

                                            >"Jerome, are we there yet," a high pitched voice asks.

                                            >That's not in your playlist.

                                            >"Jerome?"

                                            >You turn around as fast as your headache allows.

                                            "Are we there yet?"

                                            >You slowly approach the paket.

                                            >"Anybody there?"

                                            >You give the paket a small shove.

                                            >"Hey, who are you?"

                                            "Who THE FUCK are YOU!?"

                                            "What the fuck are you doing in my flat? What the FUCK are you doing in a box?"

                                            "Fuck this!"

                                            >You take a massive gulp from your beer.

                                            >You are too fucking sober or too fucking drunk to deal with talking packages.

                                            >"Hey, are you still there?"

                                            "Shut up, I'm trying to get drunk!"

                                            >"Can you let me out of this box, please?"

                                            "Not until I had my second beer."

                                            >"Please?"

                                            "Not until you tell me who you are and why this guy wheeled you into my living room!"

                                            >"I am Pinky Pie and you ordered me, silly."

                                            "What?"

                                            >"Pinkamena Diane Pie"

                                            >You rush over to your computer with wonky steps.

                                            >Your emails are open.

                                            >Dear customer ... yadda yadda ... thanks for putting trust in our ... yadda yadda ... invoice is attached... best regards Equis Sales

                                            >You hear this Pinko or whatever push against the inside of the cardbox.

                                            >"Are you still there? Please let me out!"

                                            >Click.

                                            "Holy fuck!"

                                            >You turn around and rip open the box.

                                            >Out comes one of the tiny horses that are all over the news.

                                            >The pink little fuck looks up at you and grins.

                                            >"Hi, I'm Pinky Pie, your new slave!

                                            >You empty the rest of the beer.

                                            "What?"

                                            >"Im Pinky, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

                                            >The pink little pony extands an arm. Or a leg? How do ponies acutally work?

                                            >You look at her extended appendix and slowly extend you arm to grab it.

                                            >Her hooves grab your hand and she starts shaking it.

                                            >Violently.

                                            "Pink! Stop!"

                                            >Ohh shit your gonna vomit all over her!

                                            "Stop! I'm gonna throw-"

                                            >You rip your head to the left and vomit some foam on the floor.

                                            >"I have never seen such greeting!"

                                            "Shut up," you say wiping your mouth with your forearm.

                                            >Looking at the pubble on the floor you mourn for the lost beer.

                                            >You exhale sharply.

                                            >Okay.

                                            >You raise a finger at her, "YOU stop moving, stop doing anything until I say otherwise!"

                                            >"Okie dokie lokie!"

                                            >You a grab a dishtowel and wipe up the puddle you left on the ground.

                                            >The salty, sour smell almost makes you vomit again.

                                            >You open a window to get let some fresh air in.

                                            >You take a quick shower.

                                            >To your amazement the pony is still sitting right where you left her when you step out of the shower.

                                            >You dress up and take your last beer out of the fridge and take a small sip.

                                            >No experiments.

                                            >Back in the living room you face her.

                                            "Okay what is your name again?"

                                            >"Pinkamena Diane Pie, but everyone call me Pinky Pie or Pinky for short."

                                            "Hello Pinky, I am Anon but I won't shake your hand... or hoov. This is my last beer."

                                            >"Oh beer! Can I have some too?"

                                            "I'll order some later."

                                            >You take a deep breath.

                                            "Can you clean stuff?"

                                            >The pony nods with a wide grin.

                                            "This is unfair of me since I made the mess but would you do me a solid and clean the floor? It's sticky and I don't want stains."

                                            >"No problem, master!"

                                            "Ohh yes, so you are my slave now?"

                                            >"Yes! Also do you want to be my friend?"

                                            "I guess.."

                                            >Suddenly Pinky jumps up in joy and hugs you.

                                            "Stop, stop, stop! Pinky stop!"

                                            >This feels weird.

                                            >Not bad though.

                                            "Let go, pony!"

                                            >The pony lets you go instantly and plants her behind on the ground.

                                            "Okay," you take a deep breath, "follow me".

                                            >You show her the cleaning untensils under the sink.

                                            "Can you work with this?"

                                            >"Absolutely!"

                                            "Okay please clean a little and keep silent, I have to work. I will get to you once I have time."

                                            >She salutes.

                                            >"Will do, master!"

                                            >You scrath your neck as you look down at this creature.

                                            "Allright."

                                            >You get over to your computer and lauch your workspace.

                                            >"Anon, bright and early! This is what I like about you," your boss says.

                                            "Doing my best, sir."

                                            >"You don't look so good Anon, is everything allright."

                                            "I'm perfectly fine."

                                            >"You really don't look well."

                                            "It's no problem, really."