Yet Another Horrible Decision
 
 
                                                  Prologue
 
 
 
 
>You are Anonymous, and you have a short history of making absolutely horrible decisions.
>Well, not all the decisions themselves are horrible, but at least 8 out of 10 times they have horrible consequences.
>One of those decisions, of fucking course, led to the situation you're in now.
>That is to say, in your SUV packed with the few belongings you have left driving... somewhere, anywhere, really, to call home.
 
 
>It wasn't always like this. For most of your life you were the careful, levelheaded one amongst the gaggle of idiots that were your friends.
>Every decision was carefully considered and cautiously applied.
>That all changed over the last few years.
>Your family, small as it was, began to die off. Your grandmother, 6 years ago. That one was expected, though.
>Year before last, your younger sister passed away. Accidents happen, and one happened to her.
>Your mom had been sick for some time, and the pain of losing her baby girl was too much to bear. She kicked off not long afterward.
>Your dad was always an alcoholic, and only worsened after those last two. He croaked on the other side of a ravine driving home.
>Your friends had mostly grown up and left to live their own lives, so they were of little help.
>So there you were, truly alone in the world. It was then that your decisions became absolutely horrible.
 
 
>How many fucks do you have to give anymore?
>Zero. Precisely zero fucks.
>Actually, probably more like -285 fucks. It would take a long long time to give so much as one more.
>Suicide wasn't an option. You would like to eventually see your family again and pretty much all religions with afterlives are negative on the whole suicide thing.
>As far as you could tell, though, it was all about intent.
>Your predilection for cautious contemplation before any branching paths?
>Was last seen with your final fuck to give.
>That was why you up and left your house one day, packing your older Durango with the few
possessions you might find useful.
>Laptop? Check. Trunk full of clothes & shit? Check. Guns? Ammo?
>Box full of booze? Check. Backpack full of your mom's old medicines?
>There was some good stuff there. Mostly painkillers, always come in handy. Antibiotics don't hurt either. Check. Box full of old books? Yup.
>That was it. You didn't line up a job, or even a place to stay. Just packed and left on a Thursday evening.
>No particular direction in mind, you just drive on. Turn where you feel like it.
>Pass through a few quaint little towns that don't particularly interest you.
>Maybe a bit after midnight you end up on a long expanse of fucking nothing.
>You absentmindedly grab a few pieces of jerky. Decide to knock back a gulp of cheap vodka because why the fuck not?
>First mistake.
>Drop some jerky, ends up under the seat. The road you're on is straight and fucking boring.
>Turn on the light and begin Operation Jerky Hunt.
>Second mistake.
>Vodka hits you pretty hard, takes a minute to find jerky.
>Lift head, look at road.
>No more road, trees.
>Lots and lots of trees.
>Fuck.
>What’s this?
>An incredibly bright light envelops you.
>Great. NOW you fucking run into a cop.
>Or not?
 
 
>Black.
>Black.
>Black.
>Pain Y/N? N
>Limbs attached and working Y/N? Y
>Asshole light bringing you back Y/N? Y
>Prick birds that are going to get shot chirping Y/N? YYYYYYYYYYYYYFUCK
>Memory... Memory... Memory... Memory Retrieved!
>Open Eyes Y/Y? N
>The bright light of midmorning scorches your eyes.
>God damn it eyes, I said N.
>To your surprise, you are absolutely unharmed. Your vehicle seems to be in one piece too.
>Well, you aren't dead. You don't know how to feel about that.
>Looking about your surroundings, you guess you managed to miracle yourself onto a
trail on the edge of a forest.
>A rather... brightly colored forest, but a forest all the same. Probably just the hangover.
>Oh. Yeah. That. Fuck those things, you're fine where you are.
>You drop your seat back and cover your face with a jacket.
>Black.
>Black.
>Black.
 
 
>"What do you think it is? Some kind of monster?"
>"It must be! Look at its eyes, they're huge!"
>"Do you think it's sleeping? It's not doing anything..."
 
 
>?
>Fucking birds DO NOT WAKE ME UP. STOP YOUR TALKING THIS INSTANT.
>Wait, talking? Birds don't...
>Remove face jacket and open your eyes again, cursing that asshole sun for the misery it causes you.
>Sit up and look around. No people that you can see, just three little cartoonish p0nies.
>They must be the ones interrupting your slumber with their incessant babbling. That makes sense.
>You open the door, a slightly difficult task at the moment.
"Hey you three! Keep it down will ya? Better yet, go away! Some of us are trying to sleep!"
>You hear three sharp gasps in unison.
>"It can talk!"
>"'Scuse us, Mr. Monster! We weren't tryin' to bother ya none!"
>AAAAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP
>Lay on the horn, start the engine, scream at the top of your lungs
"GO AWAY GOD DAMMIT NOW FUCK!"
 
 
>The monster's eyes flared into brilliant life, and it starts to scream.
>"Run Crusaders run awaaaaaaayyy!!!"
>Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo all tore off screaming back towards Ponyville as quickly as their hooves can take them.
 
 
>Well it worked. They left and took their chatterboxes with them.
>You turn the car back off and recline back in your seat, replacing your makeshift eyemask.
"Damn babbling horses."
 
 
>Applejack and Big Mac were at their usual tasks.
>Bucking apple trees, collecting apples, carting apples away to be sorted...
>All in all, just another day in Sweet Apple Acres
>Until an utter cacophany sounded from the far edge of the orchard.
>Followed by screams. Familiar screams.
>A glance between Applejack and Big Mac was all that was necessary, and they began bolting in the
direction of the shrill, high pitched sounds.
>Apple Bloom and her two friends tore past them at blinding (for a group of fillies) speed.
>"Apple Bloom! What in tarnation!?"
>None of the Cutie Mark Crusaders bothered to acknowledge either of the two.
>"I swear, if there was a cutie mark for findin' trouble..."
>Still, there was something loud and frightening at Sweet Apple Acres, and that just wouldn't do.
>It didn't take but a few more seconds to find exactly what had terrified the three fillies so much.
>"Uh... Hey Big Mac?"
>"Eeyup?"
>"If'n I saw somethin' that didn't make no sense, you'd tell me if I was crazy, wouldn't ya?"
>"Eeyup."
>"An' if I told you there was a... well buck if I know what to call it... an alien space chariot sittin'
in our orchard, would I be crazy?"
>"Nope."
>"An' if I said... I think I can see something... horrible... with no face and long, thin... ears? Inside? >Would I still not be crazy?"
>"Nope."
 
 
>Alright, seriously? You've had it about up to here with this shit.
>You throw the door open and stumble out, the jacket falling from your head as you face your latest tormentors.
"Can't you peopl-... Pe..."
>Now that you're actually half awake you realize you're glaring at two, um, horses?
>Horses with Apple shaped brands no, body paint? on their flanks.
>You're also pretty sure horse eyes are not supposed to be quite that big.
>The smaller one is also wearing a hat.
>Now you KNOW you're being fucked with.
"Alright, I know it's boring living on a farm and all, but where the hell are you? Do you really expect me to-"
>"Big Mac?"
>"Eeyup?"
>"Is it talkin' at us?"
>"Eeyup."
>"In Equestrian?"
>"Sure seems to be, sis."
>WAIT WHOA HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE
>Those horses' mouths moved in perfect sync with the words being spoken.
>There's nobody else around.
>And you just woke up from a dream where three smaller horses pestered you with their... speech...
"T-t-talking horses."
>AJ was starting to get a little unnerved now
>"Big Mac, I'm pretty darn sure that thing’s other face is still..."
>"Eeyup."
 
 
>You are hungover. You think. Horses are talking to you. One wears a Stetson. You've either cracked or died.
>If it's the latter it's definitely NOT what you were expecting the afterlife to be.
>An uneasy silence descends on the forest... no... orchard? P0ny eyes meet human eyes in a battle of wills.
>Both lose.
>Applejack and Big Mac panic, screaming YES SCREAMING NOT NEIGHING OR WHATEVER THE FUCK WOULD MAKE SENSE AAAGH.
>You completely lose your shit, scrambling toward the tailgate to grab whatever you can reach first.
 
 
>Applejack and Big Macintosh both regain their composure after seeing the lanky, bipedal, and LARGE creature scurry around the back of its space chariot.
>"Hey Big Mac? Would ya say I'm crazy if'n I decided to try and lasso this critter down before it does anything funny?"
>"Eeyup."
>"I must be one crazy mare then. Toss me a rope, would'ya?
 
 
>Great fucking locked fuuuuuuucccckkkk
>Don't panic don't panic don't panic
>They're horses that can talk, no big deal. There's not too much they can do to hurt you.
>Maybe you can try and talk to them? They do seem to understand English.
"Ahem. Sorry for the-"
>The smaller of the two horses (they were awfully small to be horses. They must be p0nies, right?) is whirling a rope around in its teeth.
>Now this is just fucking stupid.
>Suddenly the rope tightly wraps around your upper body, constricting your arms against your chest tightly.
>Yup. Really, really fucking stupid.
>You're not just going to sit there and take this, oh HELL no.
>You start off at running-from-the-cops speed in the opposite direction.
>Despite catching the small p0ny off guard with your speed and strength,
it catches its balance and digs its hooves in the dirt, sending you pinwheeling around in a semicircle.
>Which just so happens to be speeding towards the bigger red one.
>Who happens to be speeding at you.
>The breath is knocked out of you as the bigger p0ny’s head slams into your solar plexus.
>Things start to get a bit fuzzy...
>Fucking beef jerky... is the last conscious thought you have as you careen towards the dirt.