>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."