A Farewell to the Arms, a Welcome to the Hooves

Chapter Three

Hearts, Hooves, and Other Body Parts

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If years of studying biology and anatomy (What have I spent my life on?!) have taught me anything, it is the fact that human body is, in fact, extremely fragile. The skull, compared to other body parts, is probably one of the most breakable ones. Apparently, zebra's skulls are much, much more enduring.

Were I still a human being at a time (great, now I finally reached the last stage of grief - acceptance - while skipping the other ones), my future would have been far from bright and, I am sure, would have definitely included something to do with sleepless nights, unwelcoming hospital corridors, countless paychecks and potential idiocy. Still, as things were, hitting a sturdy pot made of lead right after having an unfortunate tete-a-tete encounter with a door did absolutely no serious harm to my head. Yay, I guess?

So, on with the story! That's what I'm supposed to do, right?

As the breezest light fell upon my closed eyelids, I woke up but promptly decided against opening my eyes. You see, there are times when you have a sweetest dream, which ends in a rather abrupt and unusual way, and then you realise it was all, well, nothing more than a mere dream. Like, if you are having an amazing time kicking someone Blair (let's not reveal the name, for the sake of security) up his labourist ass while seeing all of your students partake in a mass exodus from your course, and the next moment - puff - you wake up, and someone Blair is still PM and you have to give a few lectures to the ever-curious young biochemists who come straight from the very depths of Hell.

So, I lay on my back, refusing to let the grim reality take its turn and prolonging the wonderful moments of being a pony... erm... zebra for a little more.

"Do you have any intention of waking up?"

My ears perked at the sound of an exotic voice, which source was presumably quite nearby, and my eyes shot wide open. Above me stood the very zebra that had caused the whole inconvenience, which had occurred to yours faithfully, - the one and only, rhyming, rapping, potion-brewing "Steely-hoof" Zeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeecora!

Now, they say that males can orgasm only once at a time, in contrast to females, who aren't limited by such restrictions. Well, either they are wrong or such limitations do not apply to fangasms. Double fangasms are 20... 200 percent cooler than regular fangasms, believe me - I've had experience.

I jumped up in bed, my skull sending signals of pain and worry to my brain, and did what any sane person in my place would have done in such a situation: I threw my hooves around the zebra's neck, yelling something indistinct, something between ohmygoshZecoraohmygoshZecoraohmygoshyou'reREAL!!! and sweetJesusbeaversIcan'tbelieveit'snotadreamZecorayou'reFUCKINGREAL!!!

"Jenuar... Please... Can't... Breathe..."

I immediately let go of her, not in fear of strangling the mare (seriously, she's a cartoon character! They even can't die... can they?), but in shock of her bizarre phrasing. Jenuar? Was that some zebra slang? Like... um... weed? ...My infinite ken never ceases to amaze me.

"Who?" I blinked in surprise, staggering back a little, hitting my head against the wall. Ouch. Who puts a bed by the wall, I wonder?

"You." She pointed her hoof (striped hooves... still not used to those...) at me, reagaining her breath. "Jenuar, what's gotten into you?"

Okay, here are a few things that I need to share.

First. Gotten? Are all zebras American? Either that, or they come straight from the nineteen century. Which is not a bad thing, if you ask me.

Second. Jenuar is a name. And, since you can't hear what I'm saying (oh, the disadvantages of reading!), it's pronounced Henuar. Not with a J as in Jesus, but with a  H as in... Hamish. Okay, maybe that was a crappy example. But you still get it, right?

Third. Apparently, Jenuar - Henuar is my name, for some reason. At least, Zecora thinks so.

Four. What the fuck? Jenuar? Oh really?

"Um... What?" I replied, dumbfounded.

Okay, now I know all those years spent on studying the beauty of the English language haven't been in vain. As you can clearly see, my vocabulary would have made Charles Dickens green with envy.

"Jenuar... What's wrong?" Zecora's eyes widened in fear. "Did I hit your head hard? Oh, I'm so sorry!"

After a quick inner fangasm (an MLP character apologising to me?! Gimme two!), I shook my head.

"I'm sorry, Zecora, you must have mistaken me for somebo... somepony... somezebra else."

Now it was time for her to embrace me, and that was exactly what she did, stroking my mane.

Okay, I'm sure this many fangasms a day can seriously degrade your usual endorphine tolerance.

"Jenuar, my poor, poor brother... I'm so sorry... You must have amnesia..."

Wait, what?! Brother?! As in, this type of relaive who's a direct descendant of the same parents? I can say that the amount of shock upon my hearing this could be compared only to the moment when I learned that Darth Wader was Luke's father. Only this was twice as shocking and was apparently happening to me.

Of course, in such a situation I asked the only question that was bothering me at the moment.

"Say, Zecora, why aren't you talking in rhyme?"

A tear crawled down the zebra's cheek, instantly making me feel bad for asking.

"Jenuar... What are you talking about? I've never talked in rhyme..."

Oh, well, crap. Of course, I knew better than to tell about what I learned from a cartoon, which she  was a part of. I mean, what would you feel if a pony appeared in your world and began asking, for example, about why you conceal yourself in the bathroom every few times a week, with a strange magazine/laptop with pictures of naked mares?

"At least you still remember my name..." She sighed and began trotting about the room. "Don't worry. Just stay here, and I'll bring Twilight - I'm sure she will help."

Twilight? As in, Twilight Sparkle? The Twilight Sparkle, Saviour of Equestria, also known as Best Pony? Yes, Twilight is best pony, by the way. No argument here.

And she was going to bring Twilight in here? And I would meet her? In person?!

Now, they may say that passing out from a fangasm is pretty much impossible. That's bullshit, people. Not only is this possible, but very, very real. Because that's exactly what I did.