anonpencil writes drunk: Absolute Bedlam (oneshit)

>On this fine morning, you open your eyes, look around the room, and immediately decide that this is a mistake. With a loud groan you clutch at your pounding skull, trying hard to remember what the fuck happened the night before.
>Okay, so you were at Fluttershy's place, you know that much. You drank some alcoholic milk or something, and you remember that it wasn't cow's milk. Kangaroo milk maybe? Who the fuck knows. But you know you got right and turnt. You danced on top of something. You think it was a table, but it was really small and purple, with green spikes on it, and it kept screaming "OH GOD get off of me you're crushing me somepony help!" Huh. What a weird table. Then you remember bending over a chair and that your ass hurt for some reason, but also that it felt sorta nice, and Fluttershy kept telling you to "please take it like a good boy" but she wouldn't hand you anything... yeah, most of last night doesn't make any sense.
>You're also pretty sure you puked on a kitten. And then tried to clean it up with another kitten. But maybe you just imagined that.
>But what you do know for sure now is that your head is killing you, and that this might be the worst hangover you have ever experienced.
>You let out another groan and bury your face into the pillow, hoping that you will be able to suffocate yourself this way and experience the bliss that is death rather than this spinning, throbbing pain in your head. And in your anus, but that's really secondary.
>Maybe, today, you can just sleep. All day. Without interruption. You can try this whole being alive thing again tomorrow. Yeah, that almost sounds like a plan. You're not sure, you still can't think straight through the post-alcohol fog.
>You shut your eyes tightly and will yourself to go to sleep again. The fizzy darkness in your mind quickly sets in around the edges, and you begin to lose track of your form and whereabouts. Yes, this is it, you're going to manage to just pass out for a day. You're almost...
"ANON" comes a thundering, shrieking, brain-rending shout.
>You make a sound like a dying cow in response.
>You open one eye just a crack, which still feels like too much, and find Twilight standing next to your bed, looking more than a little ticked off.
"What." you gargle out.
"What are you doing still in bed?! Did you forget?"
"What," you say again. This might be the only sound you can actually manage right now.
"You and I were going to the lake today!" she says, her words grating against your head like sandpaper. "We have to catch fish so I can try making Ikizukuri. I really think it'll be an interesting food experiment. Or experiment in general. Either way, you promised!"
"No," you rattle.
>Oh good, you have at least one other word in your arsenal.
>She scowls at you and stamps a hoof.
"Anon. You. Promised."
"Twilight," you say, somehow making your jaw move, though you think you can hear every creak. "I am not going anywhere today. We can go tomorrow."
"But you said-"
"Twilight I am not leaving this bed today. Do you understand?" you snap, shutting your eyes tightly again.
>You are greeted in response with complete silence. You'd open your eyes to check if she is still there, but you also don't want to jinx it. Instead, you once more try to embrace the oblivion of sleep. Hopefully all will be better by morning.
>You drift off gradually, and before long, you are caught up in the gentle lull of a moving sensation, like you're in your mother's arms, being held and rocked to sleep. This is a nice dream, you tell yourself. A nice memory, going back to your childhood, where you were truly safe and happy, before real life slapped those feelings right out of you.
>There's.. only one problem with that, though, isn't there? Your brain suddenly reminds you that you had a fucking terrible mother who never held you as a baby unless it was to try to leave you at a bus stop, or that one time she tried to put you in an oven. Meth is a hell of a drug, man. So this rocking motion... it's...
>...why does it feel like you've wet the bed?
>Your eyes shoot open, and out of the corner of the one not pressed down into the pillow, you see that you are surrounded on all sides by crystal blue water. You're still in bed, definitely, but your bed appears to be floating. In a lake.
>Welp. You know exactly what has happened.
"TWILIGHT!" you shriek at the top of your lungs. "WHAT THE FUCK?"
"Hiiiiiii Anon..." you hear her call from shore. "You prooooooomised!"
"FUCK YOU CHAOTIC EVIL MAGIC BOOKHORSE!" you scream as you shakily get to your hands and knees.
"Whaaaaat? I can't hear you! You're on a laaaaaaake!"
"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU YOU..."
>In your hungover rage, which by the way has given you the weirdest boner (or maybe that's the residual anus pain, who can be sure when the prostate is involved), you tip the bed just a little too much. With a scream of agony, you topple sideways, and the bed deposits you into the cold water of the lake with a loud splash. Even from under water, you can still hear Twilight laughing. You're furious at her right now, but to be honest, you're actually more angry at yourself.
>After all, you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it.

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