>You are Anonymous.
>And you are currently working.
>It shouldn't be as exhausting as it is.
>But you decided to take a short nap shortly after Speck left that morning.
>Bad idea, you should have just pushed through it.
>You could feel it taking its toll on you as you mix a bowl of dough.
>You toss a tray of unbaked cupcakes into an oven as one of the two owners attempts to enthrall you with the history of the store.
>"Sugarcube Corner's been in the family for about six generations now."
>You don't disbelieve that.
>Even as anti-social as you are, you've made trips to the library and studied the history of the town.
>There were records and books and documents tucked away in the Magic wing that told of six friends who protected these lands.
>One of them, the supposed librarian, grew up to be a princess.
>You would have thought it was some overly imaginative author's story.
>However, that very same princess had popped into the library for a nostalgic visit one day while you were reading.
>You had already met Princess Celestia and Princess Luna shortly after arriving in Equestria.
>The two of you conversed shortly before one of her guards alerted her that urgent matters had popped up in Canterlot.
>She bid you farewell and said she would come back to visit soon.
>That was four years ago, and you haven't seen her since.
>Then again, soon to the immortal alicorns must be later to the mortal creatures of this world.

>"Anonymous? I think those cupcakes are done."
>Your boss's voice snaps you out of your daydream.
>You shake your head lightly as you remove the fresh-baked cupcakes from the oven's maw.
>"Something on your mind?"
>You look out the window, at all of the ponies going about their very merry business.
>Part of you wishes you weren't so resentful of them, after all, they were nothing but kind to you.
>Part of you just wants a real friend to hang out with.
"Nothing, just a trip down memory lane."
>Turning from the window, you spread the batter you were mixing into a cakepan.
>"I think, maybe, you should take the rest of the day off. You've done quite a bit today already."
>And here we go.
>She does this every other day.
>You start thinking about your life.
>You get existential.
>She notices you aren't focusing.
>She tells you to take the day off.
>And what's honestly worse is that she pays you for the full day.
>"We already know how this conversation is going to pan out, dearie."
>You turn to her and smirk.
>"You'll say you're fine, I'll insist that you take the day off."
>You're nodding at this point, already wanting the conversation to be over.
>You don't like it when people do that thing where they explain the conversation.
>It's just like actually having the conversation.
>"Then go. Go do whatever it is you do to relax."

>You hang your apron on a coathanger by the door as you leave Sugarcube Corner.
>You had only been in there for four hours.
>You decide to head to the library and read up on bat ponies.
>After all, why not?
>Speck could be your first real friend in this colorful world.
>The walk there is pleasant.
>The weather is nice.
>The sun is shining.
>A few ponies stop you on the way there and ask how you're doing.
>You exchange a few pleasantries before excusing yourself.
>Being anti-social doesn't mean you can't be nice sometimes.
>You just have a little trouble staying in conversation and meeting new people.
>Or rather, ponies.

>You arrive at the library.
>You place your hand on the door.
>For a wooden structure, it feels soft.
>Comforting.
>Like it was a gateway to an adventure, or that it hid something pleasant.
>Unlike the doors back on Earth, those that felt hard and uninviting, or hid something dark.
>That could just be all of the thriller novels and horror movies you watched back on earth though.
>Things like that could really get to you.
>A soft groan rises from your throat as you open the door, those thoughts having pushed themselves to the forefront of your mind.
>The inside of the library reveals itself from behind the door.
>You step inside, wishing the librarian a peaceful morning as you head into the Kindness wing.
>This was where every book on any organism was stored.
>So logically, bat ponies would fall into this category.
>You walk over to the section labeled 'b' and begin your search.
>You glance over the spines of several dozen books before finding one titled "Bat Ponies: Everything You Need To Know And More."
>The book looked ancient, at least a few centuries old.
>Hopefully the contents were still relevant to this day and age.
"Let's see here."
>Bat ponies bear many physical similarities to pegasi.
>The main differences are their slitted eyes, small tufts of fur on the tips of their ears, bat wings, and fangs.
>Bat ponies come in two main sub-species: blood-drinkers and fruit-eaters.
>These two sub-species are easily differentiated by their fangs.
>Where blood-drinkers have especially sharp fangs, fruit-eaters have dull, nubby fangs.
"Interesting, alarming, and at the same time... alleviating."
>You skip a few chapters and read on about fruit-eaters.
>While fruit-eaters have a very similar diet to most other ponies, they prefer fruits above all else.
>Fruit-eaters are especially fond of sweeter fruits and treat tropical fruits as a delicacy.
>Many fruit-eaters, just like blood-drinkers, sleep during the day.
>However, fruit-eaters are prone to take on the sleep cycle of anyp0ny they are close to.
"This is fairly straightforward."
>You skip a few more chapters and read about their magic.
>Bat ponies share many abilities with pegasi, such as the ability to move clouds.
>Unlike pegasi, bat ponies cannot control the weather.
>Bat ponies are, however, quicker to detect movements, and typically have more heightened senses than their pegasi counterparts.
>You skip around in the book at this point, reading tidbits of information on echolocation, more on their diets, more on the blood-drinkers, and so on.

>Several hours pass, judging by the clock's hands pointing at two o' clock.
>You feel like you've learned everything there is to learn from this book.
>You shelf it and leave the wing.
>Bidding the librarian a good day, you start the journey home.
>As usual, it's uneventful, save for a few ponies accosting you with polite hello's and how are you's.
>As you approach the door to your house, you feel almost as if something is... off.
>The window on the second floor is open.
>You remember leaving it open this morning.
>You shake the feeling off and open the door.
>Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.
>You enter the kitchen.
>The table is cleaned off and Speck's groceries are put away.
>You must have done that this morning when you were in a hurry to make breakfast.
>You retrieve a glass from the cupboard and full it with water from the sink.
>Idly sipping at it, you re-enter the foyer and climb the stairs to the second floor of your home.
>You feel something off again, but quickly shake the feeling as you enter your bathroom to shower.

>One quick shower later, you step out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel.
>Going to your bedroom to get a change of clothes before the shower, while you live alone?
>Blasphemy.
>You cross the hall to your bedroom and place your hand on the doorknob.
>The feeling returns for a third time.
>It's something about doors that gets you after you spend a day with your thoughts.
>Paranoia seems to fit as a descriptive word.
>You ready yourself as you open the door.
>Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, but the feeling persists.
>You step inside and look around.
>You check under the bed.
>You check behind the door.
>You look toward the closet.
>If there's something there, you'd rather be dressed before engaging it.
>Stepping over to your dresser, you open its drawers and dress as quickly as you can.
>Here comes the fun part.
>You sneak up to the closet's doors as quietly as you can.
>Your hand wraps around the handle as you take a deep breath.
>As soon as you fling the door open, you feel yourself falling backwards.
>You slam your head on the ground, your vision blurring and twisting.
>Whatever just hit you was startled, knocked you over, and darted to the other side of the room.
>You roll over onto your belly and try to get up.
>You feel too dizzy to stand, so you opt to sit and hold your head in your hands.
>As you rub your temples, you feel something heavy press against your leg.
>This is it.
>This is the end.
>Whatever you just frightened is going to kill you.
>Or, you think.
>Until it whimpers.

>You are now Speck.
>And you just floored Anon.
>Sure, you trespassed into his house and went to sleep in his closet.
>But you got hungry earlier in the day.
>So you came here to pick at your groceries.
>You heard him come into his bedroom.
>You heard his light footsteps.
>He woke you up.
>You thought if he stayed away from the closet, you'd be safe.
>But you heard him approaching, so you formulated a quick plan to fly past him and out the window.
>Obviously, that didn't work as well as you had hoped.
>You place a hoof on his leg and sit in front of him.
>He looks like he's in pain, and it's worrying you.
>What might have been your first friend, ever, is probably going to hate you.
>You whimper lightly.
"Anon... are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
>You bite your bottom lip, worried he might yell at you.
>Or hit you.
>Or hate you.
>You think you'd rather him hit you, than hate you.
>He shakes his head, placing his hand on your hoof.
>You look down briefly, still worried and anticipating his answer.
>"I think I'll be fine, Speck. What exactly are you doing, hiding in my closet, anyway?"
>You blush and look away, trying to come up with a good excuse.
>You take a deep breath and go for it.
"I was hungry, so I came over, and you weren't here, so I let myself in, and then I started looking around, but I got really tired and didn't think that I could fly back to my tree, so I crawled into your closet and went to sleep."
>As soon as you finish, you bring you hooves up to your face and try to hide.

>You are Anonymous again.
>And you are trying really hard not to laugh.
>One, because it might hurt your head.
>Two, because it might hurt Speck's feelings.
>Her long-winded run-on explanation, followed by her poor attempt to hide her face melted your heart.
>You reach down to her and pull her into a short hug.
>It might reassure her that you aren't mad.
>You really aren't mad, just a little surprised.
"It's okay, Speck. Do you want to go back to sleep? I don't mind you hanging around in the closet."
>She gasps.
>You don't think she gasped at your offer.
>"Anon! I didn't know you liked puns, too!"
>You recall reading something about bat-ponies enjoying puns.
>You don't know what you said that was a pun.
"What did I say?"
>She nudges you and winks, smiling widely.
>"Hanging around."
>You sigh, your hands and your face meet with such force that scientists could conclude the result of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable wall.
>The only thing you hate more than bats, is puns.
>"Anyways, sure. I can hang around for a while. Fair warning though, I might drive you a little batty."
>Her [spoiler]snickering intensifies[/spoiler].
>It's too cute.
>You almost can't handle it.
>You must escape before it's too late.
>You stand up and start toward the door.
>No pleasantries.
>No "see you later."
>You know she'll use another pun.
>And it won't even be the good, subtle kind.

>"Oh, Anon. Wait!"
>She trots after you.
>"I made some banana bread muffin batter earlier, using one of your recipe books, but I don't know how to use an oven."
>She's smiling up at you.
>You feel nothing but disgust.
>Muffin batter.
>That was obvious and subtle at the same time.
>You'll dub it, Schroedinger's Pun.
"If you're serious about having made batter, then I'll show you how to use an oven."
>She screeches with joy.
>You hear glass shattering in the distance.
>You lead her downstairs, and step left through the foyer into the kitchen.
>She rushes over to the fridge and pulls out a large bowl of batter.
>She was serious.
>You take the bowl from her and look into it, curious.
"Why banana bread muffins?"
>She smiles.
>You feel the earth start to shake.
>"Because I find bananas to be quite..."
>Oh, please.
>Don't do this.
>Have mercy.
>"Appealing."

>You feel your heart and mind shatter.
>Your spirit commits sudoku.
>You fall to your knees and cry.
>Only the dead may know peace from this punmancy.
>All the while, she sits there with a self-satisfied grin, her keekeekee's ring in your ears.
"Can we please just bake these muffins so you'll go back to sleep?"
>"But Anon! I'm not even tired anymore!"
>It can't be later than 2PM at this point.
>The sun is still high in the sky.
>She's nocturnal.
>You remember their sleep cycles, and how they'll change with the ponies they're closest to.
>Can they change this fast?
>And you invited her to stay here for a while.
>With her on the same sleep cycle as you.
>And her thinking you love puns.
>Oh, this will be hell.
>"Anon, are you okay?"
>You snap out of your internal doomsaying.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's bake these muffins."
>You stand, walk to the oven, and pull a muffin pan out of a cupboard.
>You place it on the counter top and begin pouring the batter in.
>Speck watches you carefully, her brow furrowed as she studies your actions.
>You place the muffins in the oven, set the temperature to "muffins", and contemplate the simplicity of p0ny appliances and how Speck couldn't grasp this.
>She is not a clever p0ny.
>You turn to her after setting an egg timer for thirty minutes.
"It'll be a while. Is there anything you want to do while we wait?"
>She tilts her head up, placing a hoof under her chin in contemplation.
>"Could you take me to meet some of your friends? I don't know anyone in town. Everyp0ny hides from me. I don't think they like me."
>Your friends.
>Ouch.
>You walk across the kitchen and sit down at the table.
>Get melodramatic, son.
"I don't have any friends."
>You can't count the Cakes at Sugarcube Corner.
>They're your bosses.
>You can't count the librarian, even though you see her nearly every day.
>She's more of an acquaintance.
>Speck flies over and sits across from you.
>"That's sad."
>You shrug and lean back in your chair.
>The two of you sit in silence for the next half hour.
>The timer rings, you get up, you take the muffins out of the oven, you place them on a tray.

>You are now Speck.
>Anonymous is holding you away from your precious muffins.
"Anon! Come on, let me have one!"
>You push against him as hard as you can.
>"They have to cool down, Speck."
>You struggle as much as you can, to no avail.
>But, what's to be expected when you're being held down by a tall, bipedal hooman.
>You plead with him.
>He gives up and lets you go.
>You pick a muffin up off of the tray.
>You take a huge bite out of it.
>Your eyes light up.
>Your wings flare out.
>Oh, Luna.
>This is the best thing you've ever eaten.
>It's like you died and went to p0ny heaven.
>You elicit a soft moan as you chew the muffin.
>Falling backwards, you writhe in pure ecstasy at how delicious this muffin is.
>Anon seems to have left the room.
>You don't care.
>You have banana bread muffins baked by angels themselves.
>Angels.
>You perk up and remember an old story your mother told you.
>Angels were mysterious beings that would look out for ponies.
>They would protect the ponies from harm.
>They would give them shelter.
>They would help them procure food.
>They would care deeply for the ponies until they could stand up on their own hooves.
>You always thought Angels were another name for parents.
>What if...
>What if Anon is an Angel?
>Your mother never described what an Angel looked like.
>You've never seen any creature like Anon before, anyways.

>You gasp and dart into the living room.
>Apparently he hears you enter.
>"Are you done making love to your muffin?"
>He's sitting on the couch reading a book.
>You climb up next to him and look over at the book.
>You can't read it, but that doesn't stop him from slamming it shut and throwing it on the table in front of you.
"What's that book?"
>"It's nothing."
>You reach for it, but he grabs your hoof.
>You look up at him, and he has a pained look on his face.
"I can't even read it. I don't see what the big deal is if I look at it."
>He sighs.
>"I don't care if you can read it or not, Speck. It's personal, and I don't want you looking at it."
>That is some of the stupidest logic you've ever heard.
>He looks up at the clock.
>You look with him.
>It's almost 4PM.
>He looks tired.
>You feel a little tired.
"What's in the book, though?"
>He lets out a very long, drawn out, and agitated groan.
>"It's a book about everything I've been through since I got here. It's a book about a lot of the things that happened to me before I came here. It's just personal, okay?"
>This intrigues you.
>He can tell by the look on your face.
>He adopts a very disgruntled look of his own.
>You lay across his lap and look up at him.
"Will you read it to me?"
>"No."
>You frown.
"Will you read it to me eventually?"
>He takes on a look of contemplation.
>"Maybe."

>You are now Anon.
>And you have an adorable little bat p0ny laying across your lap.
>She wants you to read your journal to her.
>That's not something you're ready to talk about to anyone.
>Let alone someone you've only known for a day and a night.
>"Anon?"
>You look down at her.
"Yeah?"
>"Are we friends?"
>You look up from her and think.
>Back on earth, you didn't consider someone to be your friend until you did something together.
>Play a sport, play a video-game, go to a movie, discuss some subject for over an hour.
>That might have been why you didn't have many friends.
>You hardly did stuff.
>Speck, though?
>You baked muffins together.
>You guess you could count that as part of the criteria.
"I suppose we are."
>You ruffle her dark turquoise hair.
>She sits up and hugs you around your chest as tight as she can.
>You hug her back.
>You can't help but feel a little happier now.

>You are Speck.
>You just asked Anon if you were friends.
>And he said yes.
>And you can't even contain how happy you are right now.
>The two of you migrated to the kitchen and have been eating those Luna-given muffins.
>Or, well.
>You've been eating the muffins.
>Anon can't have any.
>Because they're yours.
>He doesn't seem to mind.
>He's eating cinnamon raisin bread.
>You wonder if that's any good and reach over to his plate.
>He stops chewing and stares at you.
>"What're you doing?"
>You stop reaching and smile innocently.
"I want to see what it tastes like."
>He furrows his brow at you.
>He looks mad.
>You keep smiling.
>"No."

>You drop your jaw slightly in upset.
>Wait.
>Maybe he'll give you a piece if you tell him a good pun!
"Well, if you won't give me a piece of that bread, I'll just have to loaf about and rye until you share."
>You barely get the last word out before he throws a slice of his bread at you.
>It sticks to your face.
>You have achieved victory.
>You pick the piece of bread up in your hooves and take a bite out of it.
>It's bland.
>It's chewy.
>And it has raisins.
>You hate raisins.
>You elect to spit it out onto the table and put the piece of bread on his plate.
>His face is one of pure disgust.
>You can't blame him, maybe he finally realized how nasty that bread is.
>"Speck, that is absolutely disgusting! Pick that up and throw it away or eat it!"
>Oh.
>No, he just sounds mad now.
>You pick the piece of chewed up bread and throw it in the trash.
"How can you eat that?"
>You sit back at the table and take a bite of one of your muffins.
>"Because I like it?"
"But it has raisins. Raisins are gross."
>He rolls his eyes.
>You stick your tongue out at him.
>"I try to ignore the raisins, actually. If you get past that, it's not bad.'
>Now it's your turn to roll your eyes.
"Do hoomans lack taste buds, or do they just not have standards when it comes to their food?"
>"It varies from person to person. Some people like certain fruits, some people hate them."
>You ponder this for a moment.
"So some p0nies like raisins? Does that mean there are p0nies who hate bananas?"
>He nods.
>You gasp in horror.
"What kind of sick, twisted p0ny would hate bananas!"
>He laughs a bit.
>You frown and get up from the table.
>You turn to him as you leave the room.
"If I ever met anyp0ny that hated bananas, I'd have to make like one and split."
>You see him cringe and put his face in his hands.
>He sobs.
>You smile.
>You head up to his bedroom closet to take a nap.