What kind of a day had it been? It had been a day. Piss it into the hole in the parking lot behind the loading dock where you kept all your other days. You set your empty lunchbag on the kitchen counter and throw your keys into the Cool Whip container you use for important shit. No fewer than twenty-one point five wonderful human beings had graced you with their divine presence at the customer information desk, each of them very indignant and very serious about getting credit on their cheap-ass return items. One mother of two with skunk breath had argued for half an hour over a pair of water guns her darling angels had broken five minutes after opening the boxes. She’d won in the end, wearing you down with her black hole of stale cigarette slime and salami parfum. Eau de toilet.

Ten and a half hours of your life and as many brain cells turned to lard. It’s Tuesday, with no end in sight. But none of that matters now, because you’re home. Home with Princess Luna, your waifu.

Princess Luna. Her beautiful face flickers in the jumbled darkness of your mind’s eye, and you can’t help but smile. Her smooth voice is trilling in the living room, a music you would record and put on endless replay on your iPod if you could. Fine blue hairs cling to the carpet and walls where she passes by every day, like a trail that always leads to her. Her snail trail, you liked to joke to her. And there is her saddlebag, hunched next to your jacket that you’d forgotten to toss back in the closet when the days had gotten warm.

Everything had changed when she arrived, three months ago almost to the day. You’d stepped out onto the sidewalk that morning, zombified as usual from surfing the web the night before, and there she’d been. Watching you. Sizing you up. Already capturing your soul.

A trial, she had called it, once she had let you touch her feathers and horn to convince you that you hadn’t gone insane, and weren’t dreaming. A spirit link to find out more about the nature of humans, and whether they could be trusted with the secrets of harmony and friendship. For three moons, she had explained, her mind and heart would be joined to yours, so that you both could share your true emotions and motives without the interference of deceit or the eternal inadequacies of language.

All of that was great, but what it boiled down to was that she was your waifu, and life couldn’t be better.

“Sweetheart, I’m back!” you call out. “Did you eat yet? I brought you a cantaloupe. You love those, right? Getting ready for the fair?”

She continues talking, but it’s obvious that you aren’t the one she’s speaking to. You wonder whether she might have a visitor. Another one of her kind, maybe. The spirit link is telling you that she’s miffed, and more than a little disappointed in something. You give the cantaloupe a quick toss in the air and head into the living room, hoping it will cheer your beloved up.

“… this creature appears to have an obscene fascination with my posterior. They all do. I do not understand it,” you catch her say. She’s standing next to the mirror you’d hung above the fake fireplace, her attention divided between her reflection and a shimmering circle of light that was hovering by her snout.

There’s another face within the bright, wavy portal, not unlike Luna’s, but with a cream-white coat and stenciled rosy eyes. It could only be Luna’s sister and fellow ruler, Celestia. Luna had talked to you about her from time to time. You remember enough to know that she doesn’t take kindly to those she sees as enemies.

“Are you sure?” Celestia asks.

Luna ran a brush through her mane. A moment later, a burst of sweet morning wildflowers hits you like a punch from an ice cream man wearing cotton candy gloves. You love watching her brush her mane. Staggering from visions of an idyllic childhood you hadn’t actually lived through, you almost miss her reply.

“I am indeed. I have caught them staring on numerous occasions. This one to whom I find myself unfortunately bound seems particularly obsessed. It apologizes, but does nothing to correct its behavior. It believes itself to be my betrothed.”

You blink away the golden-tinged dreams. You can handle this. “But honey, I told you, it’s those moons you got back there! They … you know. They just catch the eye. You know I’m not like that, right?”

Celestia’s stern face fills the portal, frowning at you before turning back to Luna. “Is there any more? Have you tried engaging them in conversation? Have any among them shown even the slightest degree of promise?”

Luna shakes her head and chuckles. “Not one. Believe me, I’ve tried. Their capacity for reason, and therefore friendship, is limited. Only their young appear to possess the levels of altruism we were hoping to find here. That is, when they are not being poisoned by excessive quantities of sugar, or driven into a continual frenzy by forced competition in every aspect of life. In other words, almost never.”

“But honey!” you cry, holding out the cantaloupe. “You still love me, though, right? Listen, forget about that shit … I mean … stuff you’ve seen on TV, and that time with the soccer moms, and all those trips to the mall. We stopped shopping there because everybody made you feel weird, right? I’m your friend! Look! Please? I got you your favorite.”

Celestia clears her throat, moving back from the portal far enough so you can see her massive, sculpted pecs. “Have you reached a conclusion, then, sister?”

“I have,” says Luna, shooing you away with her wing, “and I will say that I find myself yearning for the cool breezes and solitude of my tower in Canterlot. I shall be there soon, and an end to this fruitless gesture of diplomacy.”

“I see. Well, this is valuable information in any case. Thank you again for taking this on. Please stay strong for what remains of your task.”

“I will try,” Luna replies. She squints into the mirror, checking her coat for whorls. She spots one on her neck and dabs at it with her hooftip, bringing everything back into perfect alignment. “Tonight we are to go to a carnival.” She rolls her eyes.

“Well … won’t that be nice?” says Celestia, shooting you a dark-browed glance. “I look forward to your return, my sister.” The portal shrinks and disappears in a shower of sparks.

“As do I,” Luna grumbles. She puts the brush down and gives you her own ice-cold stare-down. The end of her horn begins to glow.

“Honey, whatever I did, I’m sorry. Can we just …”

Your words are lost under the ear-splitting blast of her spell.

Author's Notes:

2nd Person, pony on earth, Soviet Russian version of a nearly extinct meme. Because.