Anonpencil Writes Drunk: Too Hot to Handle (Oneshit)

>You can't sleep. God knows you want to, but you can't. And that's because it's too fucking hot.
>One thing no one will tell you about Ponyville is that during the summers, it gets hot and doesn't really cool down, even in the evenings or night. You've felt something similar once when you visited LA, and had to sleep in the airport. It wasn't the perpetual smell of urine there that bothered you, or the fact that a small cup of coffee cost nine bucks... yes, even if you avoided the many Starbucks kiosks. It was the fact that, as you curled up on the floor to try to sleep, weeping softly into the musty carpets, designed like a bad early 90's teen jacket in pattern, color, and scent, it was like a sauna.
>And honestly, you were afraid to sweat, for fear the very air might give you chlamydia. It was a fitful night of sleep. Even before that one weird dude from Portugal tried to spoon you.
>Anyway, you'd still trade a whole week of nights at LAX for one break from the humid, sticky heat that is Ponyville. Instead you lie there, plastered to your mattress, looking up at the ceiling and wishing for the sweat release of death.
>As if sensing your misery and wanting to contribute, there's a familiar knock on your door.
"Guuuuuuuuuuh," you groan out, in way of an answer.
>The door opens, and there, as expected, is Twilight. She's smiling, and you'd be terrified by this fact if you weren't so fucking warm. You're afraid that, if you try to get up or run away, the sweating caused by it would finally push you to the point of fainting from dehydration.
"Still awake, Anon?" she asks.
>You slowly turn your head, your hair sticking to your pillow so much that it rotates with you, like a feather-stuffed drool-stained crown. She gazes at your face, unfazed by the sheer ire you're directing at her.
"Guessing no!" she says lightly, then trots over, "Well, I know you don't have fur to help keep you cool, so I figured I might bring you a cool glass of..."
>You don't give her time to answer. The moment your eyes lock on the tall clear glass with ice cubes, you spring out of bed. With every remaining ounce of your strength, you throw yourself at the glass and drink it down in one gulp.
"...of vodka."
>You cough so hard you're pretty sure one of your tonsils comes with it. Usually you can handle your booze but, when you're not expecting it, 12 tall ounces of vodka right to a dry throat feels like getting shot in the esophagus with a smoke grenade.
>Worse, you cough so quickly that you don't even have a chance to feel how nice and cool it was before your face heats up again.
>Once you stop hacking, you look up to her with a questioning, no, demanding expression. She looks you over and shrugs.
"Wow, knew you had a drinking problem, but had no idea it was that bad."
"Why," you croak out.
"Just trying to help," she says with a sigh.
"You are not."
>She pauses.
"Yeah, you're right," she admits, "But I mean, it's so hot I have to find some way to pass late nights."
"...by torturing me?"
"Look on the bright side," she says with abroad smile, "I could be ACTUALLY torturing you, like usual."
>You open your mouth, then close it again quickly for fear of inviting down the wrath of Twilight's scientific curiosity. It's probably the best decision you've made recently.
"Does it ever... ever cool down here?" you demand after a moment.
"Well," Twilight says, thinking very hard, "Maybe a little. If I run the air conditioner."
>There is a long pause as you stare into her eyes. There, you see nothing behind the wide, sparkling orbs. No conscience. No soul. Just hollow, empty cruelty, the likes of which you never found on earth. Never have you been so certain that this is actually hell, and this is your eternal punishment for wiping your nose on a baby in the park that one time.
"Air... conditioning... " you say, as if the words are holy ones.
>Twilight rolls her eyes.
"Well, yeah," she says, "you don't think I'd live in such a big castle without proper heating and cooling, do you?"
>You approach her on shaking legs, hands outstretched as curled claws. With each step, you feel liquid running down your face and neck, and at this point you're not sure if it's sweat or tears.
"Why... isn't it... on..." you hiss, each word coming out more forcefully.
>The malicious princess just wrinkles her nose.
"What, and run up my power bill?" she says with a scoff, "Yeah, no thanks."
>You let out a guttural noise as you lunge towards her again. She sidesteps you easily and you collapse onto the floor. You are able to turn your head just enough to see her. The vodka rises in your stomach, threatening to come out as you puke your remaining precious bodily essence onto the floor.
"But.... hot..." you wheeze, acid slipping up into your mouth with each word.
>Twilight rolls her eyes and steps out of the way of your clutching hands as you grasp at her legs. She shakes her head and clicks her tongue at you in reproach.
"Look," she says, "central air doesn't grow on trees you know. Where do you think the power comes from around here? Does it just come out of my wall magically?"
"You are literally the element of magic."
"That's not the point," she snaps, "I'm saving money and the environment."
"You dump toxic wastes from your experiments into the swimming hole."
"Also not the point," she says with a dismissive wave of her hoof. "The thing is, I just don't think it's worth it to the household. Spike seems to stay cool even in the highest heat, some internal cooling nonsense, and my bitterness and lack of love keeps me cold at night. So you're just going to have to find a way to deal!"
>With that, she walks to the door, and gives you a scornful shake of her head. Then she shuts the door, leaving you whimpering on the floor.
>There must be something you can do! You think hard, your mind wandering between memories, movie quotes, childhood nudity accidents, and other random thoughts until at last....
>Yes. That's it.  That's the answer.
>It's wrong. It's gross. But it's the only way. If what Twilight says is true, then there's a way for you to stay cool tonight. If it really works that way, that is, but you won't know until you try. At least one night away from the heat, no matter the cost.

----

"Good morning Spike!" Twilight calls as she opens the door to the little dragon's room. "I have experiments to do today, and I need someone to buy candy for the fillies so they don't tell their parents that I..."
>Twilight trails off into silence as she spots where you're curled up. You look up at her from your tiny, barely-usable hiding space, and smile weakly. You can see rage building in her, and you know this is going to come back on you in the worst way... but it's cool here. Last night, you slept for the first time all week. And it was beautiful.
"GOD DAMN IT ANON!" she screams in rage, "GET THE FUCK OUT OF SPIKE'S ABDOMINAL CAVITY. HE'S NOT A DAMN TAUNTAUN!"
"Of course not, those keep you warm."
"FUCKING DAMN IT ANON!"
"Worth it," you whisper as you duck back inside Spike's still cool corpse.
>She'll resurrect him tomorrow, and you're sure she's about to absolutely destroy you. But for just one more moment, you can kick back and just enjoy that you cracked open a cold one to beat the heat.


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