A Writer's Guide to Being Octavia

By ThatOneRandomPony

-~

Wet

That was the only thought that could make it through the clouded mess that was my mind.

Er, very wet? Yeah, I believe that will suffice for the moment

I began to mumble to myself as I trot, attempting some semblance of direction or planning. "Lets see here, based on the signs I have traveled roughly 12 miles. At this rate I'll be at New York right before I die. Fantastic.” I roll my eyes and shiver in the pouring rain.

It’s cold. And wet. So very wet. Of course there’s no internet anywhere for me to take advantage of. Not even a local starbucks. Again, this is all going along swimmingly.

After figuring out where in tartarus I had gotten myself, I decide I will try to use the internet connection at a local grocery and convenience store, which of course, is roughly five miles behind me. Everything is going great.

Slowly turning around, I start myself off on a full gallop.

Let me tell you, running as a pony is hard.

How hard?

Very hard.

How hard in the freezing, pouring rain?

You don’t even want to know.

-~

My hooves ache, even through the hard surface they are made of, the ends of my legs throb in time with my heartbeat as if trying to send me a morse code message to stop.

Oh thank god, I made it! 15 frackin’ miles. I made it, and alive to boot.

“Now to the QFC!” I say aloud to boast my previous success of galloping 5 miles. My own safety slips my mind for a moment until I start to wonder if anyone had heard me.

Why the hell did I just do that? If anything, that just puts me in more danger than I already am.

Looking around, I sprint towards the back of the store, and manage to stumble through the automatic doors.

Oh god, please don’t see me. I think to myself while, of course, everyone in the store turns to take in the grey and black pony that had just ran in out of the rain, sopping wet.

“Er, hello.” I say, my accent making the simple greeting sound odd to my ears.

“Hey.” A nearby cashier says.

With that simple interaction, the rest of the store seems to stop caring! Most of the customers resume their days and I am left shivering on the anti-slip mat at the entrance.

“Mommy, why does that pony have a bow tie?” A small child asks his mother.

Of course, make a remark on the bow tie, and not the fact that I’m a talking pony. Wondrous to see how good the public education system is doing their job

On that note, I ignore the silly question (because bow ties are cool, after all), and move on over to the seating area that is reserved for the customers using the store given internet.

Managing to sit down on one of the stools, I pull the monstrous laptop out of my satchel and place it on the light stained table in front of me. Opening it up, I manage to get hooked to the sweet nectar I call internet. Pulling out the sorely-needed USB optical mouse, I struggle for several minutes before managing to plug it in, and start to scroll through the news-littered internet. After, of course, checking much more important material.

Leading back to YouTube for the second to listen to one of my favorite songs, a certain popular video catches my eye entitled: Help, I’m Derpy. Normally I would think this is another one of those popular ‘hurdehur look how silly I am’ type video but, in addition to my current state, the thumbnail shows a picture of the ditzy eyed, blond mane, gray furred pony we've all come to know and love; Derpy.

Hastily clicking on the thumbnail, it leads me to a video of yet another happy case of human-to-pony fliggermenjenson. I grab a pencil out of my satchel and start to type a response:

Dear fellow pony,

Nonono, that just sounds too formal

Uh, hey, um, I'm kinda in the same predicament that you are.

Perfect start.

Anyways, I've become a pony too, Octavia, to be exact. I was kind of hoping I could go with you to New York. I feel that going alone would drive me insane. Just let me tell you, being a pony sucks. I bet that you’ve only been one for two, maybe three hours. Though I've only been one of ...them... for 8 hours, I can tell you it’s hell. Just, let me come along with you.

Thanks, I guess.

-Octavia.

With that said and done, I wait. And soon enough, I get a response:

Dear 'Tavi

Thank you so much for the offer, I truly have nothing better to do and I think this could still be fun.We can meet up at that ice cream place; ColdStone #20392. I heard a girl who apparently got turned to Fluttershy is going to New York. Anyhow, I think we might be able to join her. So, watcha say? Ready for an adventure?

~Derpy

P.S. I have an eyepatch now! Eyepatches are cool!

"An eyepatch? Really?" I mumble to myself, at a disbelief of the crudeness of the post script.

After eying that response several time to make sure it was true, a sudden tinge hit my stomach.

Hunger.

Shaking my head clear of thoughts, I put the laptop into its rightful place located in the satchel, and start to head down into the isles, looking for any cheap, hunger quenching food.

Looking at the plethora of brands, I pick out a box of graham crackers, and a two liter of coke.

The Breakfast of Champions!

With that happy thought, I walk towards the checkout stand, and stare in awe of how tall the counter was.

Nudging the customer behind me, I ask I simple request:

"Can you, uh, put my stuff up there for me?"

To my belief, the man just stood there, staring down at me with a puzzled look. Slowly, he grabbed the two items and placed them on top of the rolling black rubber.

"Thanks" I say, and move forward to the latter part of the convention belt

"That will be two dollars, and seventy-five cents. Will plastic be okay for you, miss?"

I felt the urge to correct the cashier, but, technically she was correct.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Putting three dollars near her feet, I grab the bags and leave out the door.

Now all I have to do is find that Coldstone, where ever the hell it might be.