I’m almost positive that somebody was saying my name, but I was kind of having difficulty hearing it, what with my head being bashed in and all.

The whole world seemed to go loopy for a second, turning sideways really fast. As it turned out, the world wasn’t moving at all, I’d just fallen over and whacked my head again.

Aren’t I so fantastically lucky.

I kind of laid there stunned for a minute, the realization of what had just happened mingling with the god awful pain in the back (and now side) of my head. It was like my hearing had gone all watery, even though I could see Soarin holding someone back and Spitfire saying something I’m pretty sure wasn’t polite. I didn’t catch much of it, though.

“…is th… prehens… incomp…”

“Whuzzat?” I blubbered, my tongue feeling oddly like a heavy chunk of rubber.

“Of all… that nop… demerit… sugar addicted son of a whore!”

I definitely caught that last part, and I was kind of surprised to see Spitfire that angry. She was practically steaming with outrage, and it wasn’t until I sat up fully that I managed to get a good look at my assailant.

Mint colored-

Lyra, definitely Lyra. That was all I needed to know from the flash of color alone, and I had practically forgotten the blinding pain already. Well, sort of. It seriously hurt. Like, a lot.

“Lyra!” I beamed toothily at the stunned unicorn, because it’s clearly a good idea to greet the person who just clubbed you over the head with… was that a rolling pin? Yeah, greet the person who just clubbed you over the head with a rolling pin by name.

Of course, the moment I opened my big fat mouth again, my favorite pony ever suddenly became much less favorable in my opinion. Her eyes widened significantly in fear, and another flash of light from her horn indicated that something was about to go down.

Unfortunately, that thing that went down was me, because she smashed me over the head again.

“For buck’s sake!” Spitfire grabbed the rolling pin from midair, leaning over my nearly unconscious body. And I was in quite a bit of pain by that point, so I was really wishing I could have just gone full sleepy – time mode to save myself the trouble. “I told you the first time, it isn’t dangerous!”

“Stop, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Lyra shrieked in panic, continuously pushed back by Soarin, who was ensuring she didn’t try any magic again. At least, that’s what I think was happening. I was pretty delirious by that point. Repeated blunt force trauma to the head can do that sometimes. “That-that thing is going to be the death of us all!”

“Toothpick – I mean, Phil is no threat at all!” Spitfire glowered at her, and I blearily cracked open one eye to look up at her belly. Kind of fuzzy up close. Looked nice and warm, almost like a cat’s fur, but shorter. I don’t remember properly if I tried to pet it or not, but I’m just gonna say that I didn’t just in case. “It’s not a threat, it can barely walk on its own! Right, Phil? Uh… Phil?”

“I’m a little tea~pot, short and stout~”

“Phil says yes,” Soarin deadpanned.

“That monster will kill everypony it comes into contact with!” Lyra insisted. “I’m telling you, get that thing out of Ponyville and away from-”

"Anthro~polo~gy~"

“That’s enough!” Spitfire jabbed a hoof at her, defensively straddling me when Lyra twitched. “Nopony is listening to your inane ranting, especially after you just assaulted somepony!”

“… Fine. Fine,” Lyra spat, backing away slowly without dropping her gaze. She nearly bumped into a couple of other staring ponies, steadily creeping backwards. “But don’t you come crying to me when that abomination goes on a murder spree. I’m taking the first train out of this place before it becomes a smoking crater!”

I was kind of sad to see Lyra go.

But then I remembered the horrible agony that I was in, and suddenly I didn’t feel quite so sad anymore.

“Yeesh,” Soarin shrugged eventually, shooing off a few passersby. “What’s up with all the crazy in the air today?”

I barely heard Soarin, and if I could have thought straight I might have wondered if I’d been clipped in the ear or something. All I was focused on was the mare hell bent on protecting my scrawny butt, and she was seeming a lot more awesome having prevented my head from getting cracked like an egg. Gorgeous, really, like a kind of shining, fuzzy guardian angel. Spitfire said something to me, but I didn’t really hear it. I was a little more concerned with the fact that she was still standing directly over me, and all I was wearing was the flimsy little towel.

“… Sorry, what?” I cleaned out my ear with my pinkie eventually, shifting uneasily.

“I said, I didn’t know you had such an… attraction to danger.”

“What? I don’t oh my sweet Jesus dear god no!”

I clamped my hands down over the towel, heat flooding into my face as she stared at me.

"It's... not... because of you this time...?" I chuckled weakly.

“So. Tell me, psychic,” Spitfire grinned down at me. “How come you didn’t see that coming?”

A string of words came out of my mouth, and every single one of them was jumbled and mashed together into some pitiful defense about accidental boners.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt your little chat,” Soarin coughed awkwardly into his hoof. “But I think we should probably get the thing to a vet. Like, now? Today, maybe?”

Spitfire patted me on the head, finally stepping away from me so that I could get myself properly covered.

“Pft, now you want to pick up the pace. Come on, Phil; maybe afterwards we’ll go get some ice cream or something. Humans eat ice cream, right?”

Sometimes, life is good.

“I advise against it,” Soarin sniggered as Spitfire helped me to my feet.

“Why?”

“Because he’d probably try to jam his junk in it.”

Spitfire, to the rescue!

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

And sometimes, I really, really hate my life.