I couldn’t sleep last night after writing my journal entry. No matter what I did, I kept thinking about what Mr. Jennings said. It was a relief to know that I wasn’t the only one who had this ‘problem’, but all it really did was raise more questions. I looked at my alarm clock to find it was already eleven at night, which would normally be concerning since I have work in the morning, but thankfully tomorrow was my day off.

Sitting up in my bed, I grabbed my cell phone and looked through my contacts. I didn’t have many people in there since I tended to keep to myself. The only people I had on my phone were coworkers and my best friend Fernando. As I looked through the phone, my fingers seemed to move on their own and open Eddie’s contact. I stared at the phone for a couple of minutes before starting a text message.

Hey, you mind meeting up with me? I need to talk.

After sending the message, I laid my head down, not expecting any sort of reply and hoping to drift into a wonderful slumber. Several moments later, my phone vibrated, its screen light illuminating the room. With a heavy arm, I reached over and grabbed the device to see his name displayed on the screen.

Yea meet me @ the usual place.

I cringed for a moment. Most phones nowadays came with full keyboards, so typing out a message like this was just plain retarded. Excuse my pet peeve; just felt I should put that out there. Anyway, I got up and threw on some casual clothing—a t-shirt and some jeans—and headed out towards ‘the usual place’. It was some shitty bar down the street by the name of Pour House. During the weekends, the place was filled with college kids looking to get drunk, but during weekdays, the place was deserted except for the usual alcoholics, one of them being Eddie.

As I sulked through streets, I watched as a few ponies walked around. Some tired, some drunk, just like their human counterparts who were dragging their feet along the sidewalk. Once I reached the bar, I opened the door and retched from the smell. A cloud of smoke from the cigarettes and cigars rushed into my nostrils and mouth, causing me to almost vomit where I stood. Taking in one last breath of fresh air, I entered the building and looked around.

Older men, around the age of fifty or sixty, sat at the bar, taking sips of beer from their mugs and complaining about how my generation was nothing like theirs. A man in his early forties sat in the corner, slowly picking at his rugged beard. He beckoned me over, a smile creeping onto his face. As I took a seat, he signalled the bartender with a wave of the hand.

“Vinny! How’ve you been? Mr. Offa treating you alright?” Shuffling in my seat, I gave him a deathly glare.

“Well, since you bailed on us, I’ve been the one doing all the work around the place.” Eddie placed a hand on my shoulder with a shit-eating grin stretched across his face.

“I didn’t bail on you guys. I told you everyday, didn’t I? T—”

“—his place isn’t for me, I gotta get out of here. Yeah, I remember,” I groaned. “I just didn’t think you would do it.”

Before I could get any further into it, a familiar face popped up over my shoulder.

“Is he crying again?” Placing my hand over his face, I shoved him back into the table behind me and withheld my chuckle. The scruffy looking guy picked himself up and wiped the dust from his clothing before taking a seat next to me.

“What are you doing here, Fernando?” I said, scooting over to give him more room. Fernando is a… special character. Not Pinkie special, but special nonetheless. If there was anyone who you could rely on in a pickle, it was this disheveled man.

“Eddie told me you needed to talk about something.” His cheery expression quickly dissipated only to be replaced by a glare. “It’d be nice if you came to best friend with your problems instead of this schmuck.”

Eddie grins at Fernando as the bartender places three mugs on the table, filled to the brim with beer. He didn’t hesitate to grab the cup and chug his beer. Fernando glanced at me with a crooked smirk and followed in suit. I’m not a big fan of beer, but it always tastes better with good company. I grabbed my mug and proceeded to down the bitter liquid, trying my best to match their speed. Slamming the cup down on the table, I gasped for air. The two guys rolled their eyes at my pathetic display.

“So, what’s up, Vinny? Talk to me,” Eddie whispered, not wanting the other people in bar to hear me. The last thing we needed was the gossiping old men spreading rumors around town. Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward, placing my arms on the table.

“Mr. Offa made me the baker.” Eddie’s eyes widened in surprise.

“He’s closing the place down. isn’t he? Fuck, I knew the place was going to go in the shitter once I left, but—” Raising my hand up, I interrupted him.

“On the contrary. We’re actually pulling in more business than before.”

I swear, if it were possible, Eddie’s eyes would have popped out of his head.

“Way to go!” Fernando’s smile couldn’t be any wider as he slammed his hand against my back in celebration. “Hey, barkeep! Open a tab and get us some tequila!”

Eddie leaned in towards me, a look of pure malice plastered across his face.

“Whatcha trying to say, Vinny?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“He’s saying you’re a shit baker,” Fernando joked, playfully pushing him back. Eddie chuckled as he patted on my shoulder with a grin.

“I’m just fucking with you, man. That’s good to hear. I never expected you to be a baker.”

“Neither did I,” I muttered under my breath. The credit really belonged to Pinkie, but they couldn’t find out about that. To be honest, I think they’d be more concerned about why I was seeing and hearing technicolor equines over how one taught me to bake bread and cakes. “The thing I wanted to talk to you about is Kibble.”

Eddie happy mood evaporated as the sound of the name.

“You mean the old man? That bastard hasn’t croaked yet?” I tilted my head, taken aback by the statement. This was the first time I ever heard Eddie having any resentment toward Mr. Jennings. As the bartender placed the bottle of tequila and three shot glasses down on the table, I regained my composure.

“No. I never knew you had a beef with the guy.” Eddie grabbed the bottle of mexican poison and began pour it into the shot glasses before passing them out.

“Don’t get me wrong: I don’t hate the guy, but if he were to die tomorrow, I wouldn’t miss him.” Well, there went that plan of finding anything out about Kibble.

With a flick of the wrist, he downed the bitter liquid and grunted, trying to keep it down. As we clinked our glasses in a toast, I stared at the drink. I’m not a big drinker, so that stuff would hit my head pretty hard and fast. But tomorrow was a day off, so I didn’t really care. Lifting my head up, I downed the bitter liquid and resisted the urge to puke.

Now, as I said before, I’m not a big drinker, but I’m pretty sure any person that downs six shots of tequila, three mugs of beer, and a glass of whiskey on the rocks would be pretty fucked up. I don’t remember much about the rest of the night, but I do remember one thing. As I was stumbling out of the bar, trying to find any fixated object to hold me up, I noticed something.

One of the few ponies that were still lurking around the streets caught my eye. I couldn’t make out her coat color or anything, but I did notice her eyes. Those tangelo tinted eyes locked onto me and, for a moment, I felt as if time stopped. We stood there for a couple of minutes before Fernando broke my line of sight, screaming something about his mother’s back pimple. I’ll be honest: I’m glad I don’t remember that.

When I woke up in the morning, I performed my usual morning routine and headed outside to head down to the pharmacy. I have to say, the sun is one of the hungover man’s worst enemy, but nothing will beat the infamous Pinkie Pie. Her voice made nails scratching chalkboards seem like paradise.

“Morning Vinny!” I covered my ears and shook my head.

“Pinkie, please. Keep your voice down. I have a massive headache.”

“Okay!” she exclaimed, her volume level still staying the same. “By the way, Kibble wants to see you as soon as possible.”

My heart sank a bit upon hearing that. The fact that Pinkie was being used as a middleman—middlemare, whatever you want to call it—seemed a bit jarring. But I shrugged it off and made my way to the old man’s apartment anyway. Standing at the door, I gave it a few sharp knocks and waited. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The sound of his wooden cane hitting the floor made me jump a bit; I had expected the worst with his old age.

“Vinny, please, come in.” The smell that I called “old people home” washed over my nose as I entered the apartment and took a seat. Kibble took some time to return to his seat, what with his difficulty in the walking department. Pinkie Pie bounced on around him on his venture, spitting out words of encouragement along the way.

“Come on Kibble! You’re almost there!” The old man put on a scowl that could scare off any man. Even I debated on dashing out of there.

“Pinkie, I can see how far I am from the freakin’ couch. I don’t need your view on it!” I tried my hardest to suppress a chuckle, but it was rather hard. Mr. Jennings finally reached his destination, but not before taking another five minutes to sit down on the seat. I offered help, but all it did was aggravate him further.

“I can take care of myself! I’ve been doing it for sixty-two years and I can do it for another day!” he barked, swatting my hand away. Backing up, I took a seat and waited for him to finally plop his ass on the seat. He looked at the table and groaned.

“I forgot the tea. I’ll be right bac—”

“I’ll get it,” I interrupted, quickly jumping to my feet. I didn’t feel like sitting there for another hour just to get a cold cup of tea. Grabbing a kettle, I boiled the water and preparing a tray with the essentials. With the tray in hand, I walked back to the living room and placed it on the coffee table before noticing that the old man was out cold. I hesitated for a moment, debating on whether I should wake the man up or not. Pinkie, being a devious, little prankster, grabbed a trumpet from out of nowhere, taking in a long draw of air.

“Pinkie,” I growled through my teeth, “Don’t do that! He might have a heart attack!” Her muzzle stopped short of the mouthpiece before letting all the air out of her lungs. The old man’s eyes shot open as he looked at the current scene before him.

“Ah, the tea’s here,” he whispered, grabbing the kettle and pouring himself a cup. I can’t say I wasn’t a tad worried when he reached for the piping hot kettle, but he proved himself to be capable of pouring himself a cup without killing himself.

“So.. you wanted to see me, Mr. Jennings?” Kibble raised the teacup to his lips and took a sip before giving me a disgruntled look.

“You’re the one who wanted to ask me questions, were you not?” he snapped after drinking a bit of tea. Grabbing my cup, I nervously chuckled and nodded my head. There was something about this old man that made him loveable, but frightening at the same time.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know where to start.” I rubbed my hand against my chin, deep in thought. “How long have you been able to see them?”

“Thirty years. Thirty long, hard years. I thought it was the old age finally kicking in, but I wasn’t the only one either.” He turned to Pinkie and pointed at her. “And she isn’t the first one to notice me, either.” He pointed up at the large frame with a rose in it. “She was a special one, she was. One of the greatest mares I ever met.”

It felt as if I was possessed as I got up and walked over to the frame. I looked at the flower inside, trying to see what was so great about it. For moment, I sat there trying to get what it meant, but found myself asking anyway.

“What’s so significant about this rose?” The old man chuckled before taking another sip of tea.

“She gave me that rose.” I found myself staring at the plant in awe. This old man had some sort of connection with their world and he clearly knew something I didn’t.

“How?”

“Friendship. Sounded like horse shit to me—no offense to you,” he added, turning to Pinkie, “but the more you bond with these creatures, the more real they become.” That explained why I could almost feel Pinkie yesterday.

“Who was the mare that you ended up befriending to receive this?” Kibble stopped pouring his second cup of tea and stared at me with a look that made a puppy seem evil. He looked down at his drink and sighed.

“Her name was Celestia.”

Author's Notes:

Did a challenge that required me to pound my head into a keyboard. This was the result.