>Every time you start to make yourself comfortable, Orange seems to get uncomfortable with whatever position she's in at the time and keeps shuffling you and herself around on the couch
>It's starting to get on your nerves
>But eventually she finally stops her shifting and petting you
>You look up at her to see why the sudden stop and notice that she's fallen asleep
>With Orange asleep and Blue off at work, that leaves you with free reign of the house
>Provided you can get off of the couch
>You peer over the edge and it's as if you're staring over the edge of a bridge
>But a much much shorter distance and there's a hardwood floor rather than water
>You turn yourself around and gently nudge yourself backwards until your hindlegs are hanging over the edge of the couch while you do your best to grip the cushion
>Easing yourself down takes quite a bit of effort but you eventually make it and are momentarily glad for the padding on your rump
>Now that you're on the floor, your plan has run out of steam
>The only difference between now and a moment ago is that a moment ago you were nice and comfy on a couch snuggling with a pony
>At least the floor is clean, and you briefly wonder if it's because everyone here is living on clouds or because of the impeccable cleaning skills of the homeowners
>Your train of thought is interrupted by the roar of a distant monster and you fall back in a startle before noticing it's your stomach
>Had it really been that long since you heard your stomach grumble or is everything just much louder for ponies?
>Screw it, that Whatchamacallit has to be in the kitchen still, even if it was free you doubt Blue and Orange are the wasteful types
>With a clear goal in mind you begin your crawl across the floor towards the kitchen and realize just how small you are seeing everything around you and how long it takes you just to move from one room to the next
>The thought of that candy bar assures you that it'll all pay off in the end, though, so you keep your chin up and crawl on
>Finally, you pass the finish line into the kitchen and crawl under the table to the refrigerator
>*I should probably remember how small I am before making plans in the future*
>I can only wonder how you reached that conclusion
>The cold white door looms over you like a hulking behemoth
>It's okay, you're a college student... Or were one until a day ago
>You can figure this out
>*CABINETS!*
>Your PhD is already paying for itself as you make your way to the nearest cabinet and open it up and see boxes of cereal, lame
>Next cabinet has large white containers with the classic hazard symbols on them, likely cleaning supplies
>Third has pots, pots are good
>You drag out a large pot filled with smaller pots like kitchen-ware nesting dolls
>The metal of the pot scrapes against the floor so you move slowly to avoid waking up Orange and work as quietly as you can to get the smaller pots out of it once you reach the refrigerator
>The rest is simply placing one pot on top of the next, using the fridge for support
>Once you've stacked them as high as you can reach you gulp and climb up, praying to the based god to not let you fall
>The based god grants you his based blessing and you reach the top of your mountain, only to find that you're still too short to reach the handle
>From your perch, you look around to kitchen to find something to help you make it the rest of the way and you spot the chairs
>Based on your very very poor calculations, you think they'll be perfect
>Your based blessing continues to preserve you as you make your descent and you reach the floor without incident
>Pulling the chair doesn't work so you try pushing it with your head, but it pushes back too hard
>Damn you Newton
>If Newton's Third Law is giving you trouble, maybe you can use the Second Law to show it who's boss
>You back away from the chair a bit and then move to ramming speed and lower your head, wishing you were a unicorn for this
>The chair nudges about an inch from the impact and you are relatively unscathed, but your head certainly doesn't appreciate the abuse
>As you wait for the minor disorientation to wear off, you spot the pots again and another ingenious scheme comes to mind
>POT HELMET!
>After more of based god's based blessing, you are now back in position with a pot that covers a pretty good portion of your head
>Unfortunately the next smallest was just barely too small to stay on your head so you had to get an oversized one, but it's all cool
>Ramming speed is reached again and while this impact is a bit more noisy than the first, your head doesn't hurt at all which is a sacrifice you're more than willing to make
>It's hard work to get the chair into position with having to keep switching legs to ram but the pay off is definitely worth it
>Now that you have the chair next to your pot cliff, you rebuild it and remake your ascent
>Luckily with the lowered seat of the chair, you don't need the pot that's on your head to reach the fridge handle which is great since having head protection is recommended for mountain climbing
>Of course they also recommend using cables for it rather than pots, and it's doubtful they'd consider this mountain climbing but fuck them you want your god damned Whatchamacallit
>Once on top of the chair you try the handle but find you're just too weak to pull it
>Or maybe it's because you've blocked the door with your mountain....
>Nah, it's your body's fault not yours, you're too perfect to be at fault
>You turn around and sit down to try and think of a new plan, likely involving a crowbar, a rubber band, and a White Snake mixtape
>But wait, what's that right over there on the counter?
>Is it.... No, it can't be...
>But it is! The Holy Whatchamacallit!
>Excitement overrides logic and you leap for it
>Just because you have wings doesn't mean you can fly
>You fall down with a loud crash, destroying your pot steps
>And even though you know you've experienced more pain than this, you...
>Something comes over you and tears begin forming
>You don't know what's happening but you start sniffling
>The pools of water turn into streams and the sniffling turns into choked breaths
>As you descend deeper into full blown crying, you find yourself wanting to be held more than anything
>"Oh my Celestia! What happened?!"
>You merely wail in response
>The bucket is removed from your head and a familiar embrace wraps itself around you
>Orange holds you airborn away from her for a moment and the dampness in your eyes prevents you from seeing what she's doing but you know it's her
>Even if her voice didn't give it away, no one else in existence has that embrace
>"Oh, sweetie! Are you okay?"
>She turns you to each side before pulling you close to her, your head resting on her shoulder as she rubs your back
>"There there, Anny, it's okay, mommy's here..."
>She leans her head against yours, her mouth just next to your ear
>All you can do to thank her for the time being is cry, though
>"Shhh, shhh... It's okay, Anny, mommy won't let anything hurt you now..."
>In this moment of weakness, you know that she's telling the truth
>There's no way she could lie to you right now
>And that promise alone almost completely dispels the pain of the fall
>The crash of the pots
>You begin to calm down and she keeps rubbing your back and whispering words of encouragement in your ear
>Once you're back to just sniffling she holds you away from her again and while you still can't see any details, you know that you weren't the only one crying just now
>"Do you want mommy to kiss the boo boos all better?"
>*Why God, why can't I say yes?*
>You settle with a nod and she begins kissing you all over
>At first it's just for the healing touch they offer but as the rest of the pain starts to subside and you wipe the tears from your eyes, you can see that she's turned this from reassurement to playtime
>And as her lips keep planting themselves all around your face and stomach, you find their touch ticklish
>You try to hold in your laughter but you just don't have that tolerance anymore
>A quick giggle escapes from your mouth and you can see that devilish grin in her face once she stops for a moment
>There exists nothing that can prepare you for the barrage of kisses you receive and you erupt in a fountain of giggles and flailing
>By the time the torture ends, you're pretty sure Hell has frozen over
>She sets you on the ground and ruffles your mane before grabbing a pot and putting it on your head
>The familiar feeling lets you know that it's your helmet
>You smile up at her and she smiles down at you
>"Attagirl. Now, play safe while mommy gets lunch ready."
>That bitch can read minds