Login

You Have Ten Seconds

by Akumokagetsu

Chapter 1: A Little Drafty

Load Full Story Next Chapter

0-0-0-0-0

I swear to god, it was a surprise fear boner.

Now, that has definitely got to be the weirdest sentence that I’ve ever spoken, and I say some pretty weird crap from time to time. So, in order to make myself sound slightly less… well, completely bonkers, I’m going to try to start from the beginning. Or at least, as close to the beginning as I can, anyway.

My name is Phil, but my friends call me Carrot Top which I friggin’ hate them for. I'm not a brony, which is a term for people who have a weird fascination with talking ponies. See, before I knew about Friendship is Magic, which is apparently what my brony friends were referring to, the only Carrot Top I knew of was the comedian.

And, seriously. That dude creeps me out.

I’m not even as much of a Brony as most of my friends are. I haven’t seen all the shows, I don’t know the names of every character, I’m not even all that enthusiastic about it in general. I sort of like ponies. It’s more of a ‘meh, yeah, it’s all right’ kind of reaction.

Except when it came to ‘clop’.

AND OH, GOD. WHEN I DISCOVERED ‘CLOP’.

I became slightly more enthusiastic, I’m a little ashamed to admit.

I’m a kind of short, wiry guy in high school. Glasses, brand name clothes, boring little life. Nothing out of the ordinary. And, like I said, I’m not even all that much of a Brony in the first place, which makes what happened seem just a little weird.

Actually, scratch that. My whole day has been weird, and a lot more than a little.

Jeez, I haven’t even started yet and my mind is so blown that I’m already getting sidetracked. Right, so… beginning.

It really wasn’t all that exciting.

I was walking home from school.

… No, seriously. That’s it.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, warm breeze while classmates ran past, and I was looking forward to some computer games over the weekend. Run of the mill, normal stuff. I didn’t even have much planned aside from what kind of Pop-Tart I was going to have the next morning.

And then, out of nowhere, everything is just… gone.

Not like just people, or anything; I mean absolutely everything. It was like being dunked into an inkwell. No light, no sound, no feeling; for a few seconds, I thought I’d just suffered a brain hemorrhage or something. Got to admit, I wasn’t really looking forward to passing away at the ripe old age of sixteen.

At first, when everything went dark, I think I was kind of in, like, this state of shock. I mean, if you lost all of your senses all at once, can you really say that you’d have your head on straight?

… And that’s my defense for why I woke up crying like a bitch.

I’d love to say that I handled the whole situation with a level head, that I just took it all in stride and kept my cool. But honestly? I get freaked out if I find a hair in my peanut butter. Seriously, I was not well equipped to deal with a situation like this.

So, there I was, lying on the cool tiling of somebody’s bathroom and huddled up in the fetal position and crying like a little girl when several things occurred to me at once.

First of all, I was clearly not dead. And, dude, I cannot begin to tell you how much that thrills me, right there.

Secondly, I was very, very, very not clothed. I have no idea where my clothes went to, along with my backpack. Stark freakin’ naked as the day I was born, shivering on the floor, even though there was definitely some steam in the air from hot running water nearby.

Thirdly, there was something seriously wrong with my perception. I mean, at first, I thought that maybe that hemorrhage had screwed with my brain more than I thought (like a hemorrhage doesn’t already screw with your brain) because everything came in more… sharply? I guess? Colors were definitely brighter, like the pigments were just stronger all around.

And finally, when I garnered the oh so impressive level of strength to lift my head a few inches, I found myself staring directly into the extremely curvaceous flank of one slightly stunned looking captain of the Wonderbolts. I think about half the blood in my body went straight to my face upon seeing that.

"Duh..."

Fantastic introduction. Genius.

“… You have ten seconds to explain what you are and how you got into my home, and then I’m going to throw you off of this cloud.”

“… Don’t you mean ‘or’?”

Brilliant, brain. I am so glad that I can come up with something so ingenious when under pressure. Really.

God, I’m an idiot.

Spitfire, who I most definitely recognized from a few (er hem) extracurricular image searches, seemed slightly more surprised that I could talk at all.

For a while, the only noise in the bathroom was that of the hot shower water steadily pouring out and pooling in the floor, Spitfire obviously caught just as she was about to enter it. And, I’ll admit, from that particular position, some pretty uncomfortable mental images unwillingly came to mind, regardless of the fact that I was both in a state of shock and terrified out of my wits.

Hence, surprise fear boner.

“Tick tock.”

“I-I don’t know!” I spluttered, doing my best to cover what I could of myself with my hands. Really, maybe I should have taken Dad’s advice on joining some sports teams a little more seriously, putting on some bulk. God, I would have loved to have some bigger hands right then.

You know what I would have loved even more?

Pants.

“Six. Five,” Spitfire deadpanned, the yellow pegasus slowly stepping toward me. And believe me when I say that the surprisingly graceful sashay across the floor, in combination with a level stare and wet mane was really not helping the situation.

“MY NAME IS PHIL AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON, SPITFIRE!”

Maybe shouting in her face like a lunatic wasn’t the best idea.

“I don’t know!” I panicked, scrabbling back against the wall. “I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know anything! I swear!”

She actually froze for a second, glaring down at me with what I’m pretty sure was the fires of hell burning in her eyes.

“You seem to know my name moderately well, creature.”

Awwwwwww, crap.

“… Lucky guess?” I shrugged, grinning weakly. I get the feeling revealing certain aspects of being part of what I'd assumed was merely a show wouldn't be too bright. Also, it’s hard to shrug properly with your hands between your legs. I never knew that.

“Lie to me again,” she poked a damp hoof against my chest, her stare burning a hole in my head. “And you’ll be going off of this cloud at mach two.”

I’m on a cloud?

“Now, feel like saying something truthful, or do I have to throw you against the ground and see if any comes out that way?”

“Uh… you have… very pretty eyes? Er… Spitfire… ma’am?” I struggled.

… What?

It’s true.

Besides, I already said that I don’t perform well under pressure. I’m also going to pretend that it totally wasn’t those caramel colored irises that were making me sweat. In hindsight, I was probably pushing my luck pretty badly, because she did seem about as freaked out as I was. I guess she was just tackling the situation head on, or something.

“… You know, my mother always told me that flattery will get you everywhere,” Spitfire chortled finally, thankfully backing away a step. I hadn’t really realized just how much I was holding my breath, and I exhaled hard when she backed off.

“Heh heh, yeah,” I scratched the back of my head, trying to look casual before realizing that I had stupidly left myself uncovered yet again.

“And that’s Miss Spitfire,” she suddenly gave me a heated look that would have made Medusa cringe. “… ‘Phil’,” Spitfire let the unfamiliar word roll over her tongue as she slowly turned off the water. “Stop cowering already. I hate to see a grown stallion cowering. It’s pathetic.”

“Right, right,” I nodded dimly. “Sure, Sp-uh, Miss Spitfire.”

I must have looked kind of like an idiot, because I just sat there for a few seconds.

“Um… can I have, like… a towel, or... something? Please?” I asked in what I hoped was a pleasant demeanor. She just kept staring at me like I was some kind of alien; although technically, I guess I kind of was. When she looked at me curiously and tilted her head a little, I glanced downward to my lap. Thankfully, she got the hint.

“Oh, I get it,” Spitfire nodded, pulling an unexpectedly soft towel from a rack and tossing it to me. “Not necessarily much to be proud of, eh, stallion?”

I changed my mind. I hate ponies.

0-0-0-0-0

Author's Notes:

There are too many Human in Equestria stories.
I am so sorry for adding to that list.
Although, from the surprisingly positive reaction this has received, I guess people want me to continue.

Next Chapter: The Great Phil-Nifico Estimated time remaining: 54 Minutes
Return to Story Description

Login

Facebook
Login with
Facebook:
FiMFetch