Furnace Pony

> You browse in a second-hand store, leafing through some old vinyl records, some older CRT monitors and TV's -- you nearly buy an Apple II but think better of it
> You hear a raspy little cough in one corner of the room
> Turning around you find a shivering mass of pony, metallic and rilled with tiny piping
> "Are you okay?"
> She looks up with such mournful eyes, "I'm just so cold and hungry."
> You spy a rather sizable inlet for natural gas
> Those soft brown eyes, flecked paint from her face to her hooves
> "... How much are you?"

> $50 and you're the proud owner of a sentient furnace-pony
> Taking her home you find your apartment IS set up for natural gas
> Call up the gas company for hookup
> need "a few days"
> Furnace Pony is shivering, less than in the store, but still perceptibly, on your couch even under three blankets
> "Is there anything else you eat?"
> Her eyes dart around, eying some of the firewood you'd chopped for the fireplace this apartment was MEANT to have based on the listing but didn't
> "Mama was a stove, I can eat some of that maybe?"
> Gnawing on a bit of log, she starts to warm
> one blanket off - half a log
> two blankets off - a second log, god she's eating voraciously
> After a good four logs she's throwing off a comfortable rolling heat, eyes glistening with happy tears, "Oh thank you thank you thank you!"
> She leaps into your arms on your couch, nestling into your chest
> You feel warm
> you feel warm inside too

> you come home from work
> there is a neat little pile of ash on one corner of the room
> Furnace pony is in the kitchen, sobbing quietly in a fetal position
> "What happened?!"
> "I- I took a nap after I ate a little and- and-"
> She's looked back toward the living room, beginning to wail again at the sight of what used to be a wicker-basket chair
> You suddenly recall how much you fucking hated that chair
> "It- it's okay, Mini, it's fine. We'll get you some nice soft flame-retardant pillow to sleep on, okay?"
> She looks up, awestruck you aren't furious, then babbling excitedly "REALLY? FOR ME?"
> the sound of her jumping up and down is a lot like brass bearings hitting the linoleum over and over
> The downstairs neighbors must hate you by now
> You don't care, Mini is so excited and you finally have an excuse to not keep Mom's housewarming gift
> you smile as you go get the vacuum cleaner

Author: chistery !!vGFyxi9fnOL