We had spent an arduous week getting to this Celestia-forsaken land. A week spent with a junkie in denial and her impressive collection of "material components."

"You're narrating to yourself again, Starlight."

Shut it, Trixie. Don't talk to me until you come down.

She gives me a look like I'm the crazy one. "Have you been snacking on the pink one's private stash again?"

"I don't see how that's relevant. I'm nit the one on tiral here."

"... Did you mean you're not the one on trial?" On a sober mare, her expression might have seemed sympathetic, rather than a drug-induced love for her fellow pony that could sour into rage or paranoia at any moment.

"There was a typo. Is that a crime?" My ears flattened as the pieces came together. I lowered my head. "Who sent you? You'll never take me alive!"

"That's it. I'm getting Twilight. And maybe the pink one. I think I heard her say something about Hunter S. Thompson Syndrome before."

I opened my third though seventeenth eyes, delved into the æther, and unleashed a completely merited stream of untold destruction.

At least, I tried to. Though the sparks were pretty.

"Yeeeaaah. You should probably just sleep that off."

The room tipped over without even asking permission. "Who asked you?"