>You're Anon. Not your real name, which is Stuart.
>Friday Night in Ponyville, and you're done wage-slaving at the Hayburger for the weekend. W00t!
>You and your best bird flamingo pone bud, Trailer Park, are hanging out, getting drunker and drunker.
>Her name implies there's Equestrian trailer parks.
>This intrigues you. You wonder if the queers have ruined the soil there, too.
>But later.
>The conversation drifts around. You move on from hard apple ale to herb. 4:20 somewhere, right?.
>Trailer gets hungry and grabs an orange out of a bag on your table.
>Intriguingly, she turns from her hot cotton-candy pink to a nice bright orange.
She sees you staring in wonder. She grins and giggles. "Yeah, pretty wild, huh? What else ya got?"
>She throws down some blueberries from a bag in the back of your fridge, and turns royal purple. It's amazing! Something suddenly occurs to you.
"Hey, what'll happen if you eat a Zap apple?"
>You got some of the rainbow-colored fruit last week. Pretty awesome in oatmeal.
>"dunno, let's find out!" You toss her a couple of the fruit, and she chomps into one. "I've actually never had one," she says. "Juicy motherbuckers..."
>She eats it and then the other one, and you wait. And wait. "This is weird, it usually doesn't--" she begins, and then stops. her eyes go wide
>In front of your eyes, her fur starts crackling with particolored flashes of electricity. Suddenly there's an explosion, and you find yourself lying on the ground looking at the sky.
>You have a dazed impression of a multicolored colored streak of light and a smoke contrail, and then, far, far above you there's a rainbow airburst brighter than the setting sun.
>House is a smoking wreck. Also, you're pantless.
>You fish a beer out of the debris and solemnly pour it onto the ground. "Vaya con dios, trailer," you intone.
>Your neighbors are staring. You wave at them. They duck back inside, clearly jealous of your lack of pants.