[DISC.][AiE] Bearing Burdens: Prelude

>It had started out like any other day.

>To you, at least...

>Probably because you didn't have one of those butt-tattoos.

 

>Your morning routine had gone as smoothly as ever that day.

>It was when you left the house to go to Sugarcube Corner that you noted things were... off.

>You couldn't put a finger on it yet, but you already knew it was going to be one of those days again.

>Though, 'normal' wasn't exactly the word you'd use to describe this town so you just shrugged and marched onward.

>Perhaps Pinkie could alleviate your worries with copious amounts of coffee and sugar-laden treats.

 

>When you were young, they told you to never skip out on breakfast.

>What they ―didn't― tell you however, was not to eat a dozen of donuts for breakfast on daily basis.

>On a mental score-board you take note; Anon - one, Authorities - zero.

>Pleased by your victory, you continue the march towards the towns' bakery.

>Out of nowhere, a drop of water falls on your nose, distracting you from your mental celebration.

>You look up and are hit in the face with what you believe to be the contents of Ponyville lake.

>In a matter of seconds, a torrential downpour of magnitudes you'd never seen before had started, soaking you to the bone.

>What the hell? The weather schedule you'd gotten from Dash didn't say a thing about rain today.

>Then, just as sudden as it had started, the downpour stopped.

"Thank Cele―"

 

>Snow.

>Out of nowhere, snow.

>And lots of it.

>As in, 'covering you to your waist in snow'-lots of it.

>Given the fact that you came in a bit over six feet that roughly equated to three feet of snowfall in about a second, give or take a few thousandths.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Dash?" you angrily mutter through chattering teeth.

>First you got soaked to the bone, now you were covered in snow.

>You can't suppress the shivering, the cold now seeping through the thin layer of clothes you were wearing.

>Was she trying to freeze you to death?

>Okay, you called her 'Rainbow Dyke' once when you had a little bit too much to drink but this seemed rather excessive.

>With the necessary struggle, you lift one foot out of the snow and set a step forward.

>You'd already come this far, you could just defrost in Sugarcube Corner with some hot cocoa.

>With a loud sucking noise and a lot of profanity from you, you manage to lift your other foot out of the snow.

"Fucking ponies."

>Another step is made.

"Fucking snow."

>And another.

"Fucking Rainbow Da―"

>You free your foot from the grasp of the snow once more and

 

>Hot.

>So very, very hot.

>The moment your foot finally came out of the snow, it simply melted away, disappearing in less than a second, only to be replaced by an incinerating heat.

>Standing on one leg, leaning all your weight forward to march through snow that no longer existed...

>The moment you realized you lost your balance, it was already far too late.

>Oh fair equilibrium, why hast thou forsaken us?

>In the last moments before the impact, you do what any man would do.

>Curse the first thing that comes to mind.

"Fucking fuck!"

>Face, meet pavement. Pavement, meet face.

>With a dull thud, you make its acquaintance.

>Usually, you'd just lay on the ground and enjoy the moment of numbness before the pain would strike.

>But this time, you found yourself unable to do so on the account of practically being burned alive.

>If somebody at any point in your life would ask you how a pie felt whilst being baked in an oven, you'd be able to offer a sufficient answer from here on out.

"Hot. So hot! Too hot!"

>You jump back to your feet, gingerly placing one hand on your face.

>You wince in pain at the touch but at least you don't seem to be bleeding.

"Fucking cyan pony," you grumble as you quickly run towards the centre of town.

>You'd barely run halfway through the street before you already found yourself soaked to the bone again, albeit this time in sweat.

>If you had to be out much longer in this weather, you'd be dehydrated.

>What the hell was going on with the weather today?

>As you finally reach your destination, the bakery now coming in sight, the heat stops and gets replaced with a gentle breeze.

 

>You immediately stop running and crouch down, covering your head with your arms.

>Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

>What was it going to be this time?

>Hurricane? Thunder storm? Hail?

>You sit there, cowering in the middle of the street, until something nudges you in the side.

>"You okay there, Anon?" a voice with a bit of a slur comes from your right.

>You gingerly peak open your eyes and see that weather had returned to its normal nature again.

>The sun shone and a soft breeze rolled through the streets as birds flew overhead.

"Uh... Yeah, I'm fine, Berry. Thanks."

>She shrugs and as she walks away, you can hear her mutter something under her breath. "What a retard..."

>But you give no bothers.

>You'd like to think that after the trials you conquered this morning, you deserved a proper breakfast.

>No donuts for you, today.

>No, today you would feast on a meal befitting a true king!

 

"Pancakes, Ponka! My entire kingdom for pancakes!" you shout as you burst through the door of Sugarcube Corner.

>"Oh... Uhm... I-I-I..." the voice behind the counter replied.

>Hmmm...

>That did not sound like the pink, hyperactive, reality-bending pony you knew.

>Let's see...

>Pink mane:

>Check.

>Pink coat:

>You hear a buzzer go off in the depths of your mind.

>Thank you for playing 'Who is that pony?’ Sadly, 'Ponka Peh' was not the correct answer. Sorry, try again next time!

 

"What are you doing here, Fluttershy?"

>"I'm... uhm... I'm w-w-working."

"And why exactly? Where's Pinkie?"

>"I-I don't know, b-but it's my destiny to make other people happy with treats and p-parties," she nervously stutters, barely looking at you.

"Yeah... No. That's more Pinkie's thing. You do the whole 'taking care of animals'-thing, you know?

>And they called you the retard.

>"N-No, it's what my cutie mark is telling me."

>She bends down and sticks her rear up in the air, wiggling it around so you can see the three balloons adorning it.

>What.

"What."

>You shake your head.

"You know what, never mind. You want to be Pinkie? Fine, be Pinkie. Go make me breakfast."

>"O-Of course, what would you l-like?"

"I'll take a Double Triple Barfy Deluxe on a raft, 4x4, animal-style, extra shingles with a shimmy and a squeeze, light axle grease, make it cry, burn it, and let it swim."

>"I-uhm... I-I-I..." she mutters, slowly sinking under the counter.

"Pancakes, Fluttershy. I want pancakes. With whipped cream and syrup. Geez, are you even trying?"

>"S-Sorry. P-Pancakes, I can do that! Maybe. I think..."

"And a cup of coffee. Black!" you yell after her as she retreats to the kitchen.

>You take a seat in one of the booths and simply shake your head.

>Today would be one of those days you regretted coming out of bed.

>You were already certain of that.

 

>A short while later, Fluttershy comes back out of the kitchen with... something.

>Something.

>But those were most definitely not pancakes.

>She sets the plate down in front of you and looks at you expectantly.

"Fluttershy, I asked for pancakes. Those are -not- pancakes," you point to the the concoction standing in front of you, "might I ask why you are not bringing me pancakes?"

>"Oh... Uhm... I burned them," she bashfully says, hiding behind her mane whilst doing so, "so I made you some oats. Try them, they're very healthy."

>Your eyes open wide, your pupils shrink to the size of pinpricks and you hear the words echo through your mind 'Oats... very healthy... very healthy..."

>Faint images of war-scenery flash before your eyes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you shout after snapping out of your little daydream.

>You wipe the plate of the table.

"What do you think I am? Some dude who lifts? I need sugar. Lethal amounts of sugar."

>You get up and walk towards the door.

"Either learn to make some pancakes or get Pinkie back in here. I want some decent breakfast tomorrow."

 

>Now you were certain that you regretted getting out of bed this morning.

>You'd been awake for almost two hours now and you still hadn't had breakfast.

>This was starting to make you a little grumpy.

>You'd just have to look elsewhere for breakfast.

>Guess you could always go bother AJ for some apples...

>And with that in mind, you begin to walk away from Ponyville Centre and towards Sweet Apple Acres.

>Your stomach rumbles loudly, voicing its lack of content.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

>Luckily, the trip to the orchard only took a couple of minutes as you were running out of patience.

 

*THUD*

>Ah... AJ was already at work.

>Great, that means you could just quickly grab a couple of apples and go home to pretend today never existed.

*THUD*

>"Stupid."

*THUD*

>"Apples."

*THUD*

>"Why won't you..."

*THUD"

>"...fall already?"

>You walk towards the source of the noise to find Pinkie slumped against a tree, her mane having lost its volume entirely, instead hanging down in straight strands.

 

"Pinkie? Everything okay?"

>Her head jerks up to look at you.

>"Oh hey, Anon. These stupid apples won't come down."

>She kicks the tree again.

*THUD*

>One apple jiggles back and forth, but in the end decides he's perfectly fine hanging in the tree.

>Pinkie sighs, before looking at you with a small smile.

>"But I'll get 'em. Eventually..."

"Why weren't you at the bakery this morning, Pinks?"

>"Because I need to work in the orchard, Anon. It's what my cutie mark is telling me."

>A glance at her flank that maybe lasted slightly longer than it should have, confirms that the three signature balloons have become replaced by three shining red apples instead.

>You just shake your head.

"No."

>"Anon?"

"No, Pinkie. For once, I just want a normal day without crazy hi-jinks."

>You climb up the tree and pick two apples.

>As you jump back down on the ground, you grab a couple of bits from your pocket and throw them in Pinkie's bucket.

"There. Apples are paid. I'm going back to bed."

>And as you said, so you did.

 

>You went back home, ate your apples and crawled back in bed.

>Days like these were not for you.

>They had magic.

>They could sort this out themselves.

>Right?