Anon Tried to Kill Himself, Act III

ACT III: Flowers for Anon
Part 1: Anon is on His Own

>you look up, and see a wooden carriage, lit up by moonlight from the sky and reflected off of the crystalline surface of the city
"Yeah… yeah, okay."
>somehow you rise up to your feet
>the stallion looks up at you
>"Hm, I didn't realize you'd be so big. It might be a bit uncomfortable for you."
"It'll be fine."
>he shrugs
>"Okay."
>you shuffle slowly toward the carriage as your driver hooks himself up to it
>your head turns nearly of its own accord to look upon the castle
>your eyes flit from window to window, trying to see if they can get one last glimpse of Twilight Sparkle
>all the windows are dark, it doesn't look like anyone is even awake
>not taking your eyes off of the castle, you manage to open the door and get inside the carriage
>it's a little bit cramped, your knees are pressed up near your chest
>"Going up!"
>the carriage speeds forward and takes off into the air, dragged on by the pegasus stallion's wings into the night
>the Crystal Empire is beautiful in the moonlight
>the soft, gentle, white light reflects, refracts, diffuses, and takes on the color of thousands of crystal surfaces, resulting in an aerial view unlike anything possible back on Earth
>you don't notice that though
>you keep your eyes glued to the castle, waiting for Twilight to come look through a window
>the castle gets smaller
>the windows shrink to little pinpricks of darkness against the brilliant crystal
>you're not sure if you could even make out Twilight looking out through one at this distance even if she was
>she's not looking though
>you know in your mind that she doesn't care
>that she's glad to be rid of you
>the carriage passes over the clouds
>everything below is lost behind the puffy curtain
>you tear your eyes from the window and look up at the roof of the carriage
>at some point you must have fallen asleep
>because you're awoken by a rough landing in a grassy courtyard
>the pegasus calls out
>"All right, here we are, Mr. Nonermous."
>you open the door and step outside
>where did he say this was?
>Canterlot
>Canterlot's a beautiful city too
>everything is white marble, just barely reflecting the firey red rays of the Sun, which is just starting to peek over the horizon
>before you can take in the view, however, you're bumped in the leg by a huge earth pony in a white jacket
>"Get a move on, you're going inside."
>an identical partner to this stallion appears at your other side
"Y-yeah… okay."
>the walk inside is a messy haze, its only distinctions being the regular intervals when the hospital guards shove you to change your direction
>at some point you stop at a door
>"This is your room. Be sure to say hi to your roommate."
>one of them opens the door
>the other pushes you inside
>you stumble and hit the floor as the door slams behind you
>you look up
>staring irritadedly at you is your roommate
>she's a massive, bloated, teal unicorn
"H-h-hi, Tumble Hooves."

>Tumble Hooves' eyes roll from within their lipidous craters
>"Ugh."
>she rolls over on her bunk, away from you
>"Your bed is on the other side."
>you go over and plop  down into a sitting position on the bunk she references
"S-s-so, uh, what's up, uh, babe?"
>Tumble Hooves groans
"O-oh, come on! Why you gotta be so cold? W-w-w-we, w-we made love!"
>the whale-like unicorn bolts upright in a flabby, teal lightning bolt and glares steak knives at you
>"No, you came in your pants and passed out!"
>she flits her short, straw-colored mane with her wide, jiggling hoof
>"Hmph. As if I'd ever let a skinny monkey like you get some of ''my'' hot ass!"
"B-b-b-but the lint! B-b-bellybutton!"
>Tumble Hooves is staring at you with complete and utter disgust
>"That's. Your problem."
>she falls back down onto her mattress with a whumph and rolls away from you
>"Creep."
>you lean against the wall, look up, and sigh
>you feel relieved
>it's the relief of a burden you didn't even know you had
>it feels like something that's been missing has been restored to you
>specifically, your virginity
>funny how something like that can become a part of your identity
>it's like you're you again
>of somewhat less importance, the hooved whale in the room with you is a lot less intimidating now
"Well, okay. What are you even in for?"
>"Total bullshit. They said I have an 'eating disorder'. Can you believe that? Me? An eating disorder?"
"Heh, well, that sure is unfortunate."
>"Yeah. Don't bother telling me what you're in for."
>last night flashes before your eyes
"I-I-I, I d-don't think I was going to."
>"Good. Because everyone already knows you bitchslapped the princess."
>GEEZ-O-SHIT
"Everyone knows about that?!"
>she laughs gelatinously
>"Oh yeah, it was all over the morning news."
>you slump over and your side impacts the mattress
"I didn't realize she'd go to the press about it."
>you roll over onto your back
"I didn't realize she'd go to the press about it this quickly."
>Tumble Hooves belches
>"Fuck 'er."
"What?"
>"I thought it was pretty cool."
"That's fucked up."
>"Yeah, most of the folks around here think you're a fucking sack of shit."
"Fuck."
>Tumble Hooves chuckles
>"Yeah, you're fucked."
>the door to your cell slams open, revealing one of the guards from earlier
>"All right, you two, sleep time is over, come on, get up, get up! Breakfast isn't gonna wait all day!"

Part 2: Day One

>breakfast
>if you can call it that
>you'd honestly prefer to call it "shit"
>the tray in your hands bears a glistening, gloppening glob of something you'd like to believe is plant matter of some sort
>now all that remains is to find a table to consume it at
>ideally, you'd prefer a table that's unoccupied
>you look and you look and you do a little awkward shuffle around the hospital galley in search of a table that meets your seemingly low criteria
>unfortunately, your wishes simply aren't meant to be fulfilled
>this place is packed
>so you lower your criteria further
>just a table without a lot of horses sitting at it
>and with that, you lock onto a a table in a corner with only one occupant
>she's a mare, no wings or horn, light brown coat, dark brown mane done up in a black bow, and sitting in the corner of the table
>perfect, you'll just sit in the opposite corner of the table and not speak to her
>you make your way over and claim your seat as quietly as possible
>you're normally a fairly fast eater
>it's just one bite after another; the fact that other folks eat so slowly is a mystery to you
>you'll be out of here in short time
>or at least, that's your assumption, until the mare you share your table with speaks to you
>"Hey, you're the guy who slapped the princess, right?"
>the sudden addressing makes you jump slightly, and you pause before deciding to pretend that you hadn't heard her and continue eating
>unfortunately, the poor deception doesn't throw her off
>"Hey, hello? Did you hear me?"
>during a brief cringe, you reconsider and decide to answer her question
"Y-yeah."
>"Yeah you heard me or yeah you slapped the princess?"
>goodness fuck
>you'd just like to eat your flavorless not-prison food in peace
"I-I, uh, yeah, I d-did… hit… the princess."
>"What?"
"I slapped the fucking princess right in the fucking face."
>there, that oughtta make her let you chew your plant matter
>"So how was it?"
>you find that you're unable to chew your plant matter, and in fact all you can do is sort of half spit it out and half drool it out while half choking on it
>once your throat is cleared, you stare at the mare
"What?"
>"What was it like when you slapped Princess Twilight?"
>what the fuck
"I-it was… it was… I-I dunno."
>"You dunno?"
"I dunno!"
>"So I heard you tried to kill yourself?"
>geez-o-shit the morning news really had all the fucking details, didn't they?
>"Uh-huh. That's why I'm here too. You can still kinda see the cuts on my forelegs. You wanna see?"
"N-n-not particularly."
>on that note, the mare jumps down from her seat and makes as if to leave
>"When's your doctor appointment scheduled?"
>doctor appointment?
>what, like a therapy session?
>they didn't give you any sort of schedule
>do you need one?
"I-I dunno."
>"Perfect. You're coming with me."
"Uh, why?"
>"You wanna get out of here quickly, don't you?"
"L-l-l-like an escape or something?!"
>"No, not like an escape. Much more legitimate than that. More like, uh, like playing the system."
"Oh."
>"Are you coming?"
"Uh…"
>you eye the half-eaten glop of plant matter on your tray
"Sure."

>you follow your companion through the hospital passageway
>apparently you'd been holed up in the depressives ward
>other doors that you passed by indicated other wards within the mental hospital
>manics
>delusionals
>a scream wafts out as you pass by the door labeled "dangerous"
>your eyes linger a bit on the door labelled "criminally insane"
>you think for a moment that you're lucky you weren't shoved in there
>"So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, how'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
>"You know. Try to off yourself."
"I kind of mind you asking."
>"Oh sure, sure. Let's start somewhere else then. You're pretty obviously not a pony. What are you?"
>for a moment, you feel like you don't even know
>but you figure she's asking for the name of your species
"Human. I guess it's sort of like an ape."
>"'Human'… I don't think I've ever heard of that. Where are you from?"
"I called it "Earth". Relative to here, I have no idea where that is. I don't even know how I got here."
>"You don't?"
"Well, I just sort of, fell asleep one night, in my bed, in my tiny, shitty apartment, and the next thing I knew I was on a bench in the middle of, uh, Ponyville."
>"And that must be when you met Princess Twilight."
"Uh, n-not exactly. I didn't really make her acquaintance til about a year later, a little over a week ago, when she found me, uh, at the… at the end of a rope."
>"So that's how you did it."
"Yeah."
>"Huh. She just decided to drop by after a year of not even looking at you, at that exact moment?"
"I guess so."
>"That's unlucky. I'm still here because I made a mistake."
"A mistake?"
>"Yeah. Apparently cutting is a slow way to do it. I got found hours afterwards."
"Isn't that a… a lucky mistake?"
>"Eh, I guess so."
>silence
>awkward silence
>you don't think…
"S-say, doesn't it bother you that I'm… uh, a-apparently the kind of guy who hits mares?"
>"Huh?"
"I-I-I mean, I hit Princess Twilight and all."
>the mare rolls her head around in thought
>"Those burn marks on your face. Did you get those before or after you smacked her?"
"Uh, before, I guess."
>she meets your gaze with something that feels a little dangerous lurking in her eyes and a little smile dancing upon her lips
>"Maybe she deserved it then."
>whoah
>now it's your turn to stop speaking and think for a moment
>the notion that Twilight might have been in the wrong herself actually hadn't crossed your mind until now
>you become a little bit mad
>how the hell couldn't she see that you hadn't started it?
>maybe you had rights just the same as anyone else
>wait a second
"What would you have said if I'd said 'after'?"
>she looks at you again, with that sly smile slowly expanding its borders across her face
>"Well then, you'd have already gotten what you deserved, now wouldn't you?"
>suddenly you find yourself much more relaxed for some reason
>"Besides, it's not like she's defenseless or anything. She's an alicorn princess; she could have vaporized you without even thinking about it."
>a few moments more of silence, marked by frequent, expectant glances from your guide
>what could she possibly want?
>"So, uh, the news said your name was Anonymous, right?"
>oh
>oh!
>it suddenly dawns on you that you haven't about her name
>or anything else about her for that matter
"Y-y-y-yeah. A-and, uh… y-you must be, uh…"
>seeing you realize your social blunder makes her smirk a little as she stops in front of a door labelled "children" and prompts you to do the same
>"I'm Amber Ember, and I'm going to show you how to get out and stay out of the insane asylum."

>Amber places her hoof on the handle of the childrens' ward
>wait a second
>images of FBI ponies dragging you away to a black van cross your mind
"Uh, what are we going in there for?"
>"Arts and crafts."
"What?"
>"Anonymous, can I call you Anon or something?"
"S-sure."
>she smiles
>"Anon, we're both here for being depressive recluses, right?"
"I feel like my case may be a bit more political than that."
>"Whatever. At some point the question of letting you out is gonna pop up, and they're gonna look at your behavior since you got here to figure that out. The more like a sociable and and well-adjusted pon- er, human, right- or whatever you act like, the better things are going to look."
"And, arts and crafts…?"
>the smile grows a little wider
>"Anon, what could possibly be more sociable and well-adjusted than helping some cute, troubled, little colts and fillies make macaroni art?"
>with that, she turns the handle and opens the door
>or are they called hoofdles here?
>since horses don't use hands to turn them
>you're distracted from your distraction by a sonic wall of squeaky voices
>"GOOD MORNING MISS AMBER"
>so she's a regular around these parts
>the aloof, blunt attitude that you've known Amber Ember for in these past ten minutes since you met her vanishes in the face of the baby horses
>"Why hello there! How are you all?"
>a cacophony of about two dozen voices carries about two dozen replies
>"Okay everyone, I'd like you all to meet my good friend Anon here. Everyone say hello!"
>they obey in perfect unison
>"GOOD MORNING MR. ANON"
>except for one chubby boy pony
>that's called a colt, right?
>he stares and points at you
>"You hit Princess Twilight."
>even
>the fucking
>children
>the observation rapidly turns you into the cause of some controversy among the tiny ponies
>Amber protectively steps out in front of you
>"N-now, now, now, no… well, yes, Anon did hit the princess."
>your blood runs cold as the adorable baby ponies shoot death rays of pure venom out of their eyes and directly into your soul
>"B-but, but, but, he-he's very sorry, and he's here to make up for it by helping us with our arts and crafts."
>Amber looks up at you, conveying in her eyes the nature of the delicate tightrope you must now tread to maintain the peace
>"Anon, you're a big guy, would you mind reaching up to that high shelf and getting our arts and crafts box for us?"
"S-sure."
>you need to watch the way you stumble over your words
>displays of weakness are probably unwise right now
>you locate the box and set it down on a table
>"Great. Now just lay it all out there."
>you remove paper, markers, macaroni, glue, glitter, and other tools of the trade from the box and lay it all out on the table
>the little horses come to claim their livelihood from the table
>as they do so, they make a point of not looking at you and of getting out of your presence as quickly as possible
>as the last little pony hobbles over to a table, Amber canters over toward you and flashes another smile
>"Thanks Anon."
"Uh huh."
>a filly cries out from across the room
>"Miss Amber!"
>"Oh, let me just go, and, yeah."
>and with that, you're left to your own devices
>you decide to glance over the shoulders of the kids to see how their art is going along for now
>the first filly you check glares at you and pulls her paper under her body to let you know that your help is unwanted
>as does the second
>and the third
>your eyes lock onto a solitary, pale, pink filly who's taller and much skinner than the other little ponies, sitting without any paper, just a grumpy expression on her face and black makeup caked under her eyes
>this must be the equine equivalent of a teenager
>if nothing else, her unwarranted elitism should make her somewhat immune to the mob mentality that's causing the younger children to aggressively exclude you
>you grab a paper and a marker and tentatively place yourself across from her
>the filly harrumphs and looks away from you
>at least there's no righteous hatred in this one
"Uh, hey there, uh, kiddo. What's your name?"
>she gives you a look that was probably meant to intimidate you, the otherworldly being who's over three times her weight and lived to tell of slapping an alicorn princess in the face
>"Blackened Heart."
>Blackened Heart?
>not even in ponyland
>that's way too edgy
"I mean your real name, kid."
>she smacks the table with her skinny hooves
>"That is my real name!"
>a strangely smug nurse who seemingly just so happened to be passing by sticks her head next to yours
>"I think it's Sweet Heart or something like that."
>Sweet Heart glares daggers at the smirking interjector, who retreats at a relaxed pace
"Well, okay then. Why don't you try drawing something, Sweet Heart?"
>you slide the paper and marker over to her and wait for her to give you some sort of angsty reasoning
>surprisingly, she doesn't
>instead she thinks for a moment, picks up the marker, and begins marking paper with it
>a few minutes of silence, apart from the noisy room-full of kids around you, ensues
>upon finishing, Sweet Heart inspects her work, makes a satisfied facial expression, and slides the paper over to you
>"It symbolizes the black darkness of my soul."
>this kid
>the picture is of a unicorn skull flying across a night sky on bat wings
>it's weirdly well-detailed
"That's… very good. It's a little disturbing, but-"
>you never finish your sentence
>a glob of something smacks the back of your head and lodges itself there
>you turn to view your assailant
>but all you see is brightly-colored linoleum, only this, and nothing more
>a mighty, squeaky, battle cry sounds from above you as a four tiny hooves collide with your shoulders and wrap themselves around your head
"OH, F-"
>wait a second
>you can't swear in front of all these small children
"OH, GOLLY"
>you get up and try to pry the scrambling baby horse from your head
>when another latches itself onto your leg
>and a set of teeth buries itself into your ankle
"GOLLY GEE"
>before long you're covered in a mass of angry baby horses, hell-bent on avenging their dishonored princess
"OH GOODNESS GOLLY GEE WILLICKERS I'M COVERED IN HORSES PLEASE HELP ME"
>it doesn't take too long for Amber to take notice
>"Oh, Anon, I'm so sorry! Children, please, please get off of him!"
>the shakey demand goes unheeded
>you make it to the door
>no sooner do you get it open than you lose your balance and pitch forward
>you hit the floor hard
>the horses at last get off of you and scatter
>Amber gallops out after you and helps you to your feet
>"Anon, I'm so, so, so sorry! Are you okay?"
>"I should hope so, Ms. Ember. Mr. Nonermous here is over 30 minutes late for his first meeting with me, and I'm rather anxious to get started."
>the intruder is a unicorn mare with a clipboard and wire-frame glasses
>her mane is just starting to look grey, and her body is just starting to look fat
>"D-Doctor Lectra! A-A-Anon told me here he didn't know his schedule, a-and I didn't know you were his doctor, s-s-so I figured-"
>"That you'd take him with you to help the foals. That's very nice of you, Ms. Ember. Everything is fine, just don't expect your own meeting with me today to be any sooner than 40 minutes late."
>she grabs your wrist in her bluish magic and pulls you back to your own ward
>"Come along, Mr. Nonermous."
>Amber calls out after you
>"You'll do great, Anon. Dr. Lectra is my doctor too. She's the best!"
>and you don't think that she thinks that you see this next part
>but she looks down
>and looks away
>and claws at the floor with her hoof

Part 3: The Lectra Complex

>the office walls are simply adorned with coffee-colored paint and neutral, unobtrusive decorations, set in place over an earthen brown carpet
>atop the shaggy carpet rests a big oak desk, which Dr. Lectra promptly takes a seat behind
>across from the desk is a couch which might appear roomy to a five-foot quadruped whose natural tendency when lying down is to curl up
>that's where the doctor directs you to lie
>"Now, Mr. Nonermous… am I saying that right?"
"It's, uh, Anonymous, not Nonermous."
>"A… non… ner… miss?"
"Nih-miss."
>"A… non.. Anonymous. Mr… Anoner-nimit-nymous… Anonymous. Oh my goodness that's hard to pronounce. Is that your full name? Do you have something like a surname?"
>a surname?
>you're pretty sure you have a surname
>uh
>you know, after a year of not speaking, it's a miracle you even remembered your first name
>wait, why not just tell her to call you Anon?
>"Ah, here's your file."
>Dr. Lectra produces a beige folder from her desk and flips through it
>"And your full name is… Anonymous Faggot. Aha! Mr. Faggot. That's much easier to pronounce, don't you think, Mr. Faggot?"
>oh
>right
"Uh…"
>"Come again, Mr. Faggot?"
"Please… please don't call me Mr. Faggot."
>"Just Faggot?"
"My last name is weird, and I don't like it when people refer to me by it. It's uncomfortable."
>"Hmph. Well, I suppose if it's for the comfort of my patient, I'll just have to get used to pronouncing 'Anonymous.' Even if the patient in question is guilty of first-degree lese majeste."
>you sigh
"Th-thanks."
>"Of course. Now, let's get started. I hope you don't me asking, but what exactly are you? Where are you come from?"
>wierd, most days you don't introduce yourself even once, but today you're doing it twice
>multiplying from your usual 0, that's an improvement of more than infinity
"Well, I'm called a human, and the place I'm from is called Earth."
>"Earth? I haven't heard of it. Is that one of those distant, exotic lands? You speak Equestrian very well."
"Relative to here? I don't know where it is. I don't know if it's even on this planet, or in this same universe."
>"… Oh?"
>the look on her face tells you that she's wondering if you don't belong in the delusionals ward
>hopefully the fact that you're an unidentifiable monster will help convince her that you don't
>"And I take it you don't know how you ended up in Equestria."
"No."
>"When did you arrive?"
"A little over a year ago. I just… I fell asleep in my apartment, and I woke up on a park bench in Ponyville."
>"Apartment? So I take it that this Earth wasn't terribly different from Equestria?"
"No."
>"So, you're familiar with concepts like friendship, childhood, feelings and what not?"
"Yeah."
>"But you'd never seen a pony before, correct?"
"No."
>"That must have been quite the experience. Would you say your problems started there? You know, with waking up in a brand new world and being isolated from others of your kind?"
>isolated from others of your kind?
>heh, no, that goes back much further than a year
"Uh, I don't think so. Maybe… before that."
>"Okay, so, tell me a little something."
"Like what?"
>"Uh, well somethimes patients opt to give me a sort of life story, starting from their childhood."
"Just… childhood?"
>"Yeah, you know. Like, you went to some sort of school, right? How was it?"
"Well, I guess most of it was pretty easy for me. I sort of glided through near the top without trying very hard, but near the end not knowing how to try kind of ended up hurting my grades."
>the doctor jots down some jottings on her clipboard
>"That's… interesting, Mr. Anonymous. But… I was looking for something a bit more personal than that."
"Personal?"
>"Yeah. You know, stories involving persons. Anything about any friends, girlfriends, stuff like that. You know?"
"N-not really."
>"What do you mean, 'not really'?"
"I mean, there's, there's nothing to tell."
>"What? Like you didn't have any friends?"
"Uh… I guess so."
>"Never fell in love? Met a nice mare- er… humaness?"
"No."
>"Bullies?"
"Nope."
>more jottings
>"Okay, so, school clearly wasn't very exciting for you. What about after?"
"After school?"
>"Mhm. Tell me about your first foray into the world of adulthood."
"Well, I didn't want to be a burden on my parents, so I started working as soon as I could."
>"Ooh! And how was work?"
"Are you asking about the people again?"
>"Yes."
"Well… there's still nothing to tell."
>"No work buddies, workplace drama, or anything like that?"
"No."
>"Mr. Anonymous, did you ever come to a point in your life where your situation with people changed?"
"Uh, yeah. As soon as I could afford it I moved out of my parents' home and rented a little apartment downtown."
>"So, that's less interaction, right?"
"I guess so."
>jot, jot, jot, jot
>"Now, Mr. Anonymous, most patients would have given me some sort of story by now."
"A story?"
>"Yes. You know, a sort of short story about something you did or something that happened to you. Something that you feel was an important event."
"Uh… I guess I don't really have anything like that."
>"No… defining moments? No life-changing realizations or happenings or anything of the sort?"
"No."
>"Well, what about since coming to Equestria? I know last night at least must have been fairly eventful. Why don't you tell me about that?"
>spindly fingers from your chest muscles wrap themselves around your lungs
"Uh… I-I-I-I'm n-not ready to discuss that."
>"What about anything else from your relationship with Princess Twilight? Or her friends?"
"I-I dunno. I think I need some more time to think about that."
>Dr. Lectra's pen scrapes at the paper upon her clipboard for a few moments more
>"Okay, Mr. Anonymous. That will be all for today."
"Th-that's it?"
>"Yes, I'm afraid you haven't given me very much to work with. I'm not willing to simply write you off as a boring person just yet, so for now I just don't feel like I've got a very good look at your personality yet."
"Oh."
>"Now, you didn't do anything wrong; it was fine for a first session. Besides, I'm still behind schedule. You're free to go."
>and so, you push yourself up
>and you walk out the door

Part 4: Anon Fucking Hates Bingo

>dinner
>much like breakfast, you feel that "shit" is a more accurate descriptor
>actually, exactly like breakfast, it's a slimy scoop of unidentifiable plant matter
>judging by the meals alone, you could believe that the hospital was trying to drive you to try to kill yourself again
>but the meals were likely an executive decision, made higher than any of the staff who interacted with the patients of the depressives ward
>it's interesting to see just how many events they have planned for the week which are geared at prompting social interaction
>but the real beauty of it is that it's all voluntary
>the beauty in this lies in the fact that you're going to bed right after the meal instead of sitting through tonight's "movie night"
>you hadn't observed any evidence of the harnessing of electricity in this world up til now, and would have assumed that movies didn't exist here if you had thought about it
>yet you caught a glimpse of some staffers carrying an old-fashioned film reel projector though the passageway just the same
>whatever
>you're tired
>in the corner of your eye, you spot Amber, balancing a tray full of plant matter of her own in her teeth
>you approach her
>you're sort of unsure how to proceed from here
>so you keep walking
>and you pass each other right by
>huh
>she didn't even acknowledge you
>oh well
>the way you got your ass kicked by foals was kind of pathetic
>not to worry, there's an empty table in sight
>you place yourself there and begin to eat
>between spoonfuls of plant matter, you can see Amber Ember glancing this way and that, looking around for an empty table
>whatever
>if she wants to sit with you, she can
>this isn't fucking high school; you're not concerned with social bullshit
>actually, you weren't all that concerned with it back then either
>that might not have been entirely by choice
>for some reason, you decide to pretend not to notice as she draws nearer to your table
>you definitely stop caring, however, when a gelatinous bullhorn goes off in your ear
>"HOW'S IT GROOVIN', ROOMIE?"
>Tumble Hooves squeezes herself into the seat across from yours and proceeds to bury her face into her pile of plant matter
>it's gone in mere seconds
>"You gonna eat that?"
"Uh, n-no. I'm just gonna go to bed now."
>"Coolio."
>Tumble Hooves leans over to bury her face in your meal
>you get up and walk away
>you notice that Amber Ember is nowhere to be seen
>whatever
>you're tired

>the next few days proceed in a manner you can only describe as "logical"
>which is to say, just barely at all
>you basically only left your room for meal times and therapy sessions
>you tried to make a few exploratory outings, but nothing you're allowed to do in the hospital really interests you
>besides, you did stumble across Amber Ember in a few of those outings, upon which you felt compelled to play an uncomfortable and autistic game called "pretend she doesn't exist" for some reason
>maybe it was because she was clearly playing the same game with you
>regardless, it served as another motivation to stay in your room
>the problem with this is that Tumble Hooves rarely leaves the room either
>she spends most of her time sleeping, sending off foghorn snores which ensure that you can't do the same
>it's on the third day of this that you decide being an autist isn't worth suffering the stench and sounds of obese pony all day
>so you head out
>you promptly discover a poster advertising a rousing game of bingo
>in an amazing turn of luck for you, the game is in just a few minutes
>perfect
>you find your way to the room where the game is to be played
>a smiling nurse hands you a bingo card and a bag of chips
>it's funny how nobody seems to care that you're a six foot biped who was publicly outed for assaulting a princess
>nobody except the foals anyway
>folks are either a lot less observant than you expect them to be, or they just care a lot less than you expect them to
>didn't Tumble Hooves say you were hated already though?
>maybe they just don't confront you about it
>whatever, either way, it's easier this way
>a small group of patients is already seated and waiting for the game to begin
>you take the seat closest to the door, in the back
>your finger presses down onto a chip, shakes it off over the free square, and proceeds to play and fiddle with it
>the chair next to yours is yanked out with a scraping noise
>a teenage filly you recognize as Sweet Heart climbs up onto it
>why?
>she looks up at you
>you look down at her
>she harrumphs and looks away
>…
>sure
>a grumpy-looking bird-cat thing makes its way to the front of the room and spins the bingo cage with a gnarled talon
>is that a griffon?
>griffons exist here?
>and they're people?
>you wonder what other mythological creatures could be citizens of Equestria, and decide that there might be a reason why nobody questions your appearance
>the griffon opens its beak to speak in a deep, rough voice and silence the already awkwardly silent room
>"Awright, awright. Let's get this thing out of the way."
>he, judging by the voice, sticks his talon into the bingo cage and plucks out a ball
>"B, 27"
>a few clicks of chips on cards from around the room signal that a few of the ponies have this square
>examining your own card, you see that you do not
>the griffon doesn't waste time in grabbing another ball
>"G, 19"
>a single chip taps down somewhere in the room
>unfortunately, it's not yours
>"O, 16"
>"Oh!"
>Sweet Heart places a chip down
>she looks at your empty card, and then looks up at you with a winning smile
>lel, getting competitive over bingo
>"I, 12"
>oh shit you have that one
>you slam that chip down and project your smuggest expression into Sweet Heart's face, which transforms into a pout
>you're tempted to tell her to suck your dick
>but you remember that she is in fact an underaged, mentally-ill horse and you don't particularly want that to be taken the wrong way
>"BINGO!"
>a sky-blue mare with a scarlet mane waves her hoof around in the front row
>no way
>voices from around the bingo room sound off their disbelief
>"A bingo in only four turns!"
>"I-Impossible!"
>"A perfect game!"
>"She must be the most powerful bingo player in the entire hospital!"
>"Oh no! I lost!"
>the owner of this last voice, a pegasus mare with a coat the color of cotton candy and a mane the color of butter, proceeds to unleash body-racking sobs and pound on her table
>nurses run into the room to administer soothing words
>the griffon at the front of the room sighs
>"Okay, everyone. Take ten. We'll have another round as soon as this is all cleared up."
>Sweet Heart leans back in her chair and looks at the ceiling with a painfully bored expression
>this is dumb
>you push out of your seat, leave the room, and find your way back to your quarters
>you don't leave it again except for your daily therapy session with Dr. Lectra
>the next day is Sunday, and the doctors all have Sundays off
>you don't leave your room at all
>you wake up on Monday when an envelope slaps you in the face
>Tumble Hooves is standing over you
>"Anon, you've got mail."
>having done her roommately duties, she promptly jumps into her bed in a manner that reminds you of an animate bag of pudding
>you've got mail?
>it's been exactly one week since that ill-fated expedition to the Crystal Empire began
>maybe it's Twilight writing to inform you that she's decided to worsen your condition somehow
>your hand fumbles around until it lands on the envelope that hit you
>the envelope tears open with some effort, and the letter it contains is carried to your eyes on sweaty fingers
>"Dear Anonymous,
>"There's a big apple convention in starting in Canterlot tomorrow. I figured on my way there I'd come and pay you a visit.
>"Regards,
>Applejack"

Part 5: Anon Still Hates Apples

>well fuck
>you allow your arm to flop away from your face and hang off the bed
>your hand allows the letter to flutter down to the floor
>Applejack?
>why does she give a shit?
>and why her in particular?
>you reckon that if you hurry, you can probably write her a letter telling her to shove her hat up her cunt
>no, mail's not instant; it probably wouldn't get there until tomorrow, which would be too late
>wait
>mail's not instant
>this had to have been sent yesterday
>and tomorrow from the point of view of yesterday is today
>the wording on that letter is straightforward, to-the-point, and simple
>you're pretty sure you're interpreting this correctly
>you're having a visitor today!
>well fuck
>but what fucking time?
>fuck
>you get out of your room to stalk the halls
>eyes downcast, hands clasped behind your back, you prowl about in search of nothing
>occasionally your head and eyes flick to your peripherals, noting your location every few seconds
>wait a second
>you take a few steps backward and examine a piece of paper taped to a door
>"Patient Kitchen - Feel free to use what you like, just CLEAN UP after you're done."
>huh
>you've never noticed this before
>the door creaks open at your touch
>it's a kitchen all right
>there's a fridge, an open pantry full of dry goods, an oven, sinks, counters, and hooks carrying various cooking tools
>on the other side of the kitchen there's a big open window set over a long countertop and facing into a passageway, probably for serving a line
>hmmm
>i-it's not that you particularly care about Applejack or anything
>but somehow, an idea pops into your head just the same
>you move about the kitchen just to see if they have what you have in mind
>hmmm
>flour
>sugar
>apples
>uh
>eggs?
>it's all there
>this could probably work
>you find a bowl and a spoon and set them down on the counter
>how much flour sounds reasonable for pie crust?
>three cups?
>into the bowl it goes
>now for the sugar…
>probably… one cup?
>you mix it in with the flour
>now the question you have is
>will one egg be enough?
>there's one way to find out
>you crack an egg open and hold it over the bowl
>as you watch its contents ooze down, someone addresses you from the window
>"Uh, hey, Anon."
>you look over and behold Amber Ember, resting her upper body on the counter to get a better view
"Oh, uh, hello."
>she cranes her neck a bit
>"Wat'cha doing?"
"I'm just, uh, baking a pie here."
>her ear twitches
>"You're… making a pie?"
"Uh-huh."
>"With… eggs?"
"What?"
>"Anon, you don't make pie crust with eggs. Or, I never would. Hang on, did you stir that thing in yet? Don't move!"
>the sound of galloping hooves moves away from the window
>and finds its way around to the door
>Amber flings it open and strides in
>"Okay. Let's see about that egg."

>Amber wastes no time in getting her upper body on top of the counter with a measuring cup clenched between her teeth
>she dips the cup into the bowl and resurfaces with the remains of an egg in tow
>"There. Some of it soaked into the flour, but it should be fine."
"Uh."
>she sniffs the air above the mixing bowl
>"Oh, so you've already got the sugar in too. It smells kind of… bland, how much did you use?"
"A… cup?"
>"And how much flour?"
>"Three cups."
>"Whoah! That is way too much flour. Let's just start over on this."
>she promptly takes the mixing bowl to the trash and pours its contents in
>what the hell
>this horse ignores you all week
>and now all of the sudden she has the right to shit on your pie crust?
>she grabs the bag of flour, and pours a little in the bowl
>"So what kind of pie are we baking, Anon?"
"It's, uh, apple."
>"Oh great! Are there apples?"
"Uh huh."
>"Perfect! You make the filling, and it's probably better if I handle the crust."
>Amber promptly sets about acquiring various components and tools
>she buries her head into a low cabinet
>and in the process of doing so sticks her ass way up in the air
>what the hell is that picture on it?
>it's like brown… chunks?
>is it shit?
>you lean in to get a better look
>the social implications of your actions don't occur to you until Amber clambers out of the cabinet and sees what you're doing
>she spits out a pie tin onto the floor, jumps back, and flits her saucer-sized eyes around before finally setting her pinprick-sized pupils upon you
>"Anon! Wh-wh-what are you doing?!"
>you're still in your bent-over butt-staring position as you try to explain your intentions
"I was- I was- I-I-I was just looking at-at-at-at your-your butt, your butt, your-your-your-your butt… your butt picture!"
>the mare before you turns dark red as she tries to make sense of your half-comprehensible explanation
>"M-my butt?!"
"Y-your butt picture!"
>she pauses before relaxing a bit, and looking back at her own butt
>"My… my cutie mark?"
"Yeah!"
>Amber gradually stands up straight, which prompts you to do the same
>finally, she gives a sincere smile
>"It's… caramels. I make sweets for a living. Sorry, I maybe should have explained that before barging in on your baking. I do this sort of thing for a living."
"Oh."
>her smile turns snarky
>"Now. Are you just about ready to make that filling?"
"Uh, n-no, I'm not really sure how."
>Amber frowns
>"You went to bake an apple pie without knowing how?"
"I-it was sort of a… a spur of the moment thing."
>"Right. Get about eight apples. Peel, core, and slice them into itty bitty pieces. Then mix it with, say, a teaspoon of cinnamon, a teaspoon of brown sugar, and a quarter cup of water. Then stir it up in a saucepan. Don't heat it too long, mind you, it'll heat up enough in the oven."
"You want fries with that?"
>she struts past you and flicks you with her tail as she does so
>"Don't sass me."

>peeling, coring, and slicing apples into itty bitty pieces is a bit of a long process
>fortunately, Amber doesn't have you beaten with the crust yet
>she had the dough mixed and the tin lined with it a good number of minutes ago
>but she's doing the basket-weave thing with the top crust, which is an even longer process for a pony who has to use hooves
>at last, you pour your expertly sliced apples into the saucepan
>on top of them you sprinkle the other ingredients
>you turn on the stove and begin to stir
>it's funny how magical horse land is selectively primitive
>like, lighting is all done through candles and music is still played on mechanical record players, but for some reason they've got modern stovetops and refrigerators
>you should have learned something about electrical engineering back home
>it would have come in handy here
>the scent of apples permeates the air and creeps into your senses
>bellissimo
>a fuzzy pony head nudges you in the side
>"Anon, that smells great! Is the water mostly gone?"
"Yeah."
>"It's done. Go ahead and pour it in the crust."
>carrying the pan over to the counter, you see a complete, baket-weaved crust sitting next to the tin
>damnit, it looks like she did beat you
>as you pour your apples in her crust, Amber attempts to lift up the crust top with her hooves
>"Anon, can you get this crust on there? You've got those, uh… claw things."
"Fingers?"
>"Yeah."
>in short time, the pie is covered, and you're crimping the top down over the bottom crust with Amber
>"Okay, the oven's pre-heated. Just pop it in, Anon."
>Amber digs out a small-ish hourglass and flips it upside down
>there's that selective technology shit again
>"Okay. 15 minutes."
>you stand together, watching the sand fall through the glass
>maybe about five minutes pass in silence
>"So, what were you baking a pie for?"
>the pie?
>oh
"A, uh, friend is visiting me today."
>Amber averts her gaze a bit
>"A friend?"
"Or, uh, one of Princess Twilight's friends anyway."
>"Oh. Which one?"
"Her name is Applejack."
>"Element of Honesty?"
"What?"
>"You know, from the Elements of Harmony."
"The what?"
>"The magical thingies that Princess Twilight and her friends used to save Equestria."
"To do what?!"
>"Anon, do you seriously not know that Princess Twilight and her friends have saved Equestria, like, seven times over the past five years?"
"W-well I'm new in this world."
>she laughs out loud
>"You were living with her!"
"Y-yeah, well…"
>the amber-coated mare giggles and smiles
>"It's fine."
>you sigh
>"So, uh, if Applejack is coming to visit you, that's gotta be a good sign, right? Maybe they'll let you out soon. Any word on that?"
"Man, I doubt I'm getting out of here soon."
>"Oh, well…"
>you see she's giving you that expectant look again
>oh
"Do you know when you're getting out of here?"
>she smiles, the looks away, then she looks back up at you and frowns a little before smiling again
>"Today!"

"Today?"
>"Uh huh! I'm just waiting on the office to finish up some paperwork, and then I can pick it up and go."
"Oh."
>"Yeah. I… I saw you in here, and I-I know you're mad at me for what happened with the foals, but…"
"Mad at you?"
>"W-well, you weren't talking to me, so I figured…"
"No, it's just… I thought you thought I was pathetic. The way I got beat up by those foals and all."
>"What? No, I…"
>the pause that ensues more pregnant than a Mexican rabbit on welfare
>Amber cuts it open it with a slight smile
>"Well that's dumb."
"What is?"
>"We've been avoiding each other and being alone all week long for no good reason. We could have been friends the whole time!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
>Amber glances at the hourglass
>"Just about there."
"So, where are you going?"
>"Oh, I don't know. I might have to stay in the city for a little while, but really, I wanna get out of Canterlot as soon as possible. There's no one in this town who gives a darn about me; I just wanna start over somewhere else."
"All right."
>"What about you? Are you going back to Ponyville after you get out?"
>somehow you knew she would reply with that
>but you haven't thought that far ahead at all
"Man, I have no idea. I dunno, maybe if this meeting with Applejack goes well. Otherwise… I don't know if I'd be welcome there."
>a crackling sound accompanied by an echoing voice interrupts the conversation
>"Amber Ember, administrative office. Amber Ember, administrative office."
>Amber gasps a little
>"Well, those are my papers. I guess I've got to… go now. G-good luck with Applejack!"
"Y-you too."
>she turns around and begins walking toward the door
>before she gets there, she looks back a little and addresses you
>"I'd really like to meet you again, Anonymous."
"Yeah, me too."
>she pushes the kitchen door open and begins walking out
"Uh, hey Amber?"
>"Uh huh?"
"Why did you, uh, why did you try to help me the other day anyway?
>she pulls her head back in and gives you what may actually be the warmest smile you've ever seen in your life
>it's not saying much, but it's probably still warmer than what most people in general get
>"Because you sat next to me."
>her tail disappears beyond the door, which clicks shut behind her
>the last grain of sand falls to the bottom of the hourglass
>the crackling voice resonates through the hospital once more
>"Anonymous Faggot, visitors' center. Anonymous Faggot, visitors' center."

Part 6: Mr. Nonermous, We Need to Talk

>your hand gets scalded a bit as you attempt to move the hot pie from two hands to one hand
"Shit."
>you hold still for a moment until you're sure that the pie is balanced securely on the hotpad on your hand
>it's too bad fucking oven mitts don't exist
>these hotpads are probably designed to go in horse mouths
>satisfied that you're not going to drop the pie, you use your free hand to open the door to the room marked "visitors' center"
>Applejack is looking out a window
>and the window is looking down at her, casting a ray of sunlight upon the orange mare and making her golden mane glow bright white
"Uh."
>Applejack turns her head to look at you
>"Oh, hey there, Anonermous."
>she sniifs the air, looks up to the pie in your hand, and trots over to you with a predatory smile
>"Is that what I think it is?"
"Oh, uh, the… pie? Probably."
>"Fer me?"
"Yeah."
>"Well. lemme see it!"
>you lower your arm and present the pie at pony eye-level
>Applejack greedily inhales the steamy aroma floating off of the pastry
>"Well don't that just beat all? Did you make that yerself?"
"No, I, uh, had some help."
>that phrase gets her to look you straight in the eye
>"What? Like, from a friend?"
"Uh, I guess."
>"Well, ain't that something? Twilight'll be mighty pleased to hear about that!"
>Twilight?
"You really think she'd care?"
>Applejack's lower eyelid raises as she cocks her head
>"She… would. Eh… you know what, Anon? Just go set yerself down at that table over there. I don't wanna talk about stuff like that til I've had a slice of that pie."
>oh
"Uh, sure. I didn't bring any plates though."
>"Aw, that's fine. I found some while I was waitin' for ya."
"Oh."
>you make your way over to the table and have a seat
"Were you waiting a while?"
>"Nah. There ain't no wait too long for fresh apple pie."
>Applejack clenches the edges of two paper plates with plastic forks balanced on them between her teeth and takes her seat opposite you
"Uh, do we need a knife?"
>Applejack somehow gives you an "I-apple-on-a-level-much-higher-than-that,-mortal" kind of look
>"Nah."
>with that, she flings the pie into the air by her hoof
>she does a perfect backflip straight over her seat, and in the process deals the pie tin a precise kick with her back hoof
>in an instant, Applejack is back in her seat, and the apple pie sits on the table divided neatly into eight perfect slices
>impressive
>"Come on now, let's get some pie in us, and then we'll get talkin'."

>Applejack wipes a few crumbs off of her face with her hoof
>"That's good pie. Thanks for makin' it, Anon."
"Thanks."
>her foreleg extends over the table and swipes the pie off to the side
>"All right now, Mr. Nonermous. We need to talk."
>since you don't verbally respond, Applejack scans your face for comprehension before continuing
>"First thing's first, Anon. I don't think what ya did was okay. No, sir. I don't like violence and I don't like it when it's applicated to my friends. Am I right?"
"Y-yeah. You're right."
>"Good. 'Cause I didn't come here to lecture ya or yell atcha or anythin' like that. Twilight Sparkle is one of my closest friends, and I love her like my own sister, but I reckon there's more to the story than what she told me. That's just the way this sorta thing works."
"So…"
>"So, get talkin'."
"Well, uh, about…"
>"Yep, about that night."
"Uh, well, I, I went to bed early. I got into an, uh, sort of an argument, I guess, with Twilight, so-"
>"What was the argument about?"
"Well, I-I told her that Sombra couldn't be fixed. I said I couldn't be fixed either. She didn't like it and I think she… ran off to the library."
>"But that weren't the fight?"
"No."
>"So you woke up later."
>your hand gingerly strokes at your face
"Yeah. To a face-full of boiling water."
>"What?!"
"Yeah. Sombra."
>"Twilight didn't mention… Did she know?"
"I don't know. She never asked."
>"Well did ya tell her?"
"I-I tried, I think. I don't know, she was mad, she wasn't listening. I guess she should have been able to figure out by looking at my face."
>she scratches her head
>"I just don't get it. What could she have been so mad about?"
"I don't know. Everything. You said she told you about it; I'm sure she gave you the laundry list."
>Applejack sighs
>"Eh, you could say that. So she ran in all yellin' and angry and unreasonable, right?"
"Uh, I guess she wasn't so angry til she got knocked down on accident."
>"You hit her on accident?"
"No, I mean, the first time. I was getting Sombra off of me, and he sort of fell onto Twilight."
>"So that's when she breaks out the angry princess routine?"
"Yeah."
>"And she was yellin' at you for everything you'd done that vexed her?"
"Yeah."
>"And you said somethin' back to her."
"I… I guess so."
>Applejack leans in as close to you as she can, her emerald eyes locked onto you like missiles
>"Anonymous. What did you say?"
>what did you say?
>you open your palm and look at it
"I said… I said she was full of shit. I said she didn't give a shit. I said friendship was bullshit."
>Applejack's eyes grow, just a little
>"And how'd she like that?"
"She caught on fire. Actually caught on fire."
>Applejack winces
>"I've seen that. But I know that's not all she did."
>it wasn't quite a week ago
>it's not difficult to remember
>the exact words, the exact sound, the look on her face
"She said I'd rather kill myself."
>Applejack widens the uncomfortably short gap between herself and you
>"And then…"
"Yeah."
>the room is silent
>"Anon. I don't think you're a bad person. But I do think you're dangerous."
"D-dangerous?"
>"That's right. Anon, friendship is basically the definin' trait of Twilight Sparkle. It's what she is. It's her job, it's her greatest power, and it's been the focus of her life since she came to Ponyville. And I've seen it with my own eyes; friendship's a real powerful thing. I've seen a simple friendly gesture turn ponies who were downright nasty into folks who're quite amicable. It's been right helpful to Twilight and me and our friends over the years."
>Applejack scratches at her head
>"And I don't really understand it, but it's also the source of some real powerful magic stuff. That's probably the important part. Sometimes, we get a real nasty fella tryin' to make Equestria not such a nice place. Ya know, tryin' to kidnap the Princess or take over the world or steal all our magic. Stuff like that. Somehow, the friendship that Twilight has with the rest of us girls is always able to come through and zap bad guys like that 'til they're no harm no more. And sometimes we're able to show 'em the error in their ways and turn 'em into nice folks after that, which is nice."
>she frowns
>"And then you come along. A creature that acts like it's impervious to friendship and sets about disprovin' all of Twilight's friendship theories. Can ya see how that might be a bad thing?"
"And how is that my fault? If I prove Twilight's 'friendship theories' wrong, then maybe they're just wrong."
>"Anonymous, I might not be real sciencey, but it seems to me that ya coulda chosen to prove her right."
"It's not that easy."
>"Twilight's still up in the Crystal Empire, tryin' to get through to Sombra. She's not doin' so great. The letter she sent back to Ponyville was all covered in little stains from teardrops."
>is it getting hot in here?
"And… and what does that have to do with me?"
>"Anon, the most hurtful thing you did to Twilight wasn't the slap. It was what ya said about friendship bein' baloney. She sees you as a failure on her part now. She couldn't get through to you. Maybe because friendship just ain't for ya. And if friendship ain't for you, maybe it ain't for Sombra either. She doesn't have no confidence in herself since that night. She doesn't have no confidence in friendship since that night! And if the Princess of Friendship don't have confidence in friendship, well…"
"What?"
>"Things could get bad."
>Applejack pushes out of her seat and stretches on her hooves
>"Well, I got business to take care of at the apple convention. I'll mention some of what ya told me to Twilight next I see her, particularly about the hot water and the friend ya made. I don't know if that'll endear ya to her, but I hope it'll put her in a better way, which is all I wanted outta this visit in the first place."
>ah
>so it was all for Twilight's benefit
>you suppose that shouldn't be surprising, considering that Applejack is Twilight's friend and not yours
>Applejack makes her way to the door
>"Anon, I don't think you're a bad person."
>and she nudges it open with her head
>"I just don't know if you think that."
"What?"
>she leaves through the visitors' door without answering
>fucking apple horse