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- >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.
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