>Fluttershy was walking home one day after a afternoon of shopping at the market.
>You wouldn’t want your animal friends to go hungry now.
>The moon was high in the sky by the time you made it to the cottage, and all your animal friends were asleep.
>You were a bit scared, but you knew these woods, and there was nothing that could hurt you.
>You unlock your house and set the grocery’s down, and reach over for the light switch.
>You flip it up and down, but the room remains cloaked in darkness.
?“Oh sugar honey ice tea. I guess I’ll have to get another bulb.”
>You shut the door, and start towards when you hear something.
>A bone chilling laugh comes from your living room.
“>H-hello? Is s-someone here?”
>You walk into the living room cautiously, feeling your way.
>Suddenly, a bright light flashes, then turns into a dull orange as a lighter had been lit.
>It is now that you see who owns the lighter.
>A man sits there, his eyes a cold blue, his hair a shaggy main, covering most of his face.
>All you can see is his face, but it’s enough to terrify you.
>“C-c-c-can I h-h-h-help you m-m-mister?”
>Your heart feels like it’s going to explode out of your chest, the hair on the back of your neck is standing up straight, and you fear the worst.
>He gives an evil smile, sending another shiver down your spine.
“What, you don’t recognize me?”
>You shakily walk forward, and are hit with the sudden realization: the kind hearted spirit that was once picklehead is now before you, scaring you half to death.
>Seeing this new knowledge go through your head, he lets out another cold laugh, devoid of all good things in the world, leaving you only to cringe.
1/?
 
>”What are y-you doing here pickles? Shouldn’t you be at home?”
>You can barely talk, but knowing who it is, you can calm down a bit.
>With the lighter still dancing, making the shadows around you flicker, he speaks in a dark, borderline evil tone.
”Oh what’s the point? I’d just get up tomorrow and do it all over!”
>“So w-why are you here? Not that I mind…”
>He gives another chuckle.
“I’m hiding my dear. Why else would I be at my obsessive rapists house?”
>You give him a strange look. Hiding? Rapist? You only showed him love!
>“Who are you hiding from?”
>You move a bit close to the chair, sitting down, close enough to see his face, but still in the dark, only going on instinct to identify your surroundings.
”Oh, who aren’t I hiding from? I’ve done some bad things recently, but they would never think I would be here.”
>He gives another grin, and his eye twitches a bit.
>You shift uncomfortably. This was becoming scarier and scarier. First the dark, and now your beloved was in trouble?
>He interrupts your thought process by saying with a bit of malice in his voice
“Care to know why I’m hiding?”
>You nod your head. This must be a misunderstanding.
”Well you see, I’ve been out and about recently. Pulled a few pranks, had a few laughs. Maybe caused a bit of chaos, but what’s life without it?”
>His face suddenly contorts into one of pure anger, which rivaled your stare.
“But someone had the GALL to say I had gone insane! Can you believe that?!?!”
>He looks toward you, another twitch in his eye. He’s leaned forward, his knuckles clenched white around the lighter.
2/?
 
>“N-no, I can’t believe it.”
>He gives a sigh of relief, and sits back in the chair.
”Good, good. Now, I looked up the definition of insanity. Would you like to know what it is?”
>He suddenly leans forward, lighter blowing out. He screams in a booming, menacing voice
“TELL ME YOU WANT TO HEAR!”
>You “eep”, and duck under the rug, shaking.
>After a moment, you studder out
>“Please, t-t-t-tell m-me.”
>You peek your head out, but see nothing but darkness.
>A click comes from behind you, followed by that warm glow of the lighter. He had moved- impossibly fast I might add- over to the fireplace, leaning against the mantle.
”They said I had “such unsoundness of mind or lack of understanding as prevents one from having the mental capacity required by law to enter into a particular relationship, status, or transaction or as removes one from criminal or civil responsibility.”
>He gets another twitch.
“But I know that’s not what it really is! I remember! Its doing that same thing, OVER and OVER,”
>He slams his fist down, causing the flame to flicker, and the house to shake,
“and expecting a different result.”
>You simply stare, beginning to question his sanity itself. What if he did something? How do you escape?
>He sees you thinking, and steps forward, the lighter coming dangerously close to your mane.
”But that’s just it! I know I’m not crazy! You know that,”
>He leans in even further, your noses inches apart.
“Right?”
>You shakily give a nod.
>He gives a sigh of relief, and stand back up.
“You see, I can even prove it. I may do the same thing every day, but you know what I don’t do? I don’t expect different results.”
>He turns, gives an evil smile, and flicks out the flame, dousing the room in complete darkness.
“They all do it for me.”