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        You can't tell me you've never imagined it. I won't believe that you haven't sat at your screen one night, blurry-eyed, and thought for just a second what it would be like. Now, imagine for a moment that the impasse between fantasy and reality isn't always so deep.

        Dear reader, (if I can be pretentious enough to imitate Nabokov, Humbert and many others by addressing you as such,) I will now make you aware of our shared knowledge. We have both witnessed the meteoric rise of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic into the absolute spotlight of the Internet. I have spent many a late night observing the work of Mrs.Faust and her coworkers, and I assume you have too. Like you, I have also whittled away hours chatting and posting with the ineffable secondary community based upon the show. Depending on your tastes, you may also share my experiences perusing fan-written fiction regarding these equines.

        Maybe you too have expressed distaste at the awkwardness and presumptuousness of these hackish writers. Turned your nose at the fumbling exertions of their will over characters and plots that are not theirs. If that is so, it is likely that the irony is settling in at about this time. I am afraid this reading is going to be a rather recursive and ironic journey. But, the other writers start at the beginning of the troubles, and so may I.

        These events began conveniently as most. Having awakened in a place which I had not fallen asleep simplifies my explanation regarding the means of my imposition. What could be simpler than "I don't know,"? And so, there I found myself. First, my discerning senses quickly discovered that I was laying upon grass, and not my downy sheets. This was perturbing.

         I darted upwards, almost throwing myself from my prone position. My heart beat faster than I thought possible. Nearly every sense confused me. I appeared to be standing now, having slept on a downward slope of a gentle hill. My eyes recognized grass and sunlight, but did not understand their hues. The colors were oddly light. Painted, I thought, but I didn't yet grasp the implications. I heard chirping birds, and buzzing of insects, and my skin was tingling with the warmth of any summer's day.

        I was on the verge of panic, and I must have looked it. Total contrast to my serene surroundings. Understandable. Things were not right; It was the clouds that gave it away. I saw in the distance a white shape. Only, it was entirely flat on the bottom, and evenly curved on the top. No real cloud would look like that, yet all the clouds looked like that. Ceci n'est pas une cloud. I was looking at a representation, an artist's image of a cloud. The entirety of my surroundings were representations and interpretations. (More than usually, I mean.) It was all perfect, but real. The image that came to mind is an obsessively fine garden. The tree's leaves bunched in a perfectly absurd way that still made sense. Flowers always seemed to be blooming flawlessly. The world was unreal and real at the same time.

        Silly slow me, I did not recognize quite whose world it was yet.

        Panic subsiding, I decided that I am clearly in a dream. After the initial rush of emotions, I was proud of myself for this realization. Lucidity is always a nice thing to have.

        I turned my inspection on myself. My body also seemed different, odd for a dream. I was clothed, so it obviously wasn't one of those dreams. Bedclothes, yes, but clothes nonetheless. Not the most flattering attire. My dreams are not perfect.

        Now that I was so assured of my dream state, I began to relax. At least, until some facts intruded upon me. I was thirsty and hungry. After some testing, I was also unable to fly, or stretch my limbs like rubber, or do any of the other impossible and entertaining past-times one partakes of in a lucid dream. Well, this was a let-down. I am the creator of my own disappointments.

        If I were going to experience a dream, it best not be a thirsty dream. I decided I may as well explore until my subconscious dreamed me up some water. Cresting the picturesque hill, I believe I saw a brown line in a distant field. A road, it seemed, although curving and twirling with unnecessary and inefficient style. (Maybe I was trying to tell myself something via symbolism.) Farther beyond that were round mountains, impossibly blue and snow-capped.

        Now, usually dreams are inconsistent. Bits of the reality change when you aren't looking or if you forget them. Sections of transit are bypassed in favor of major events. But the oddness of my situation was even more apparent when I realized I was not at the road, but had to walk to it. This was unusual. The tree I had seen before moved away from me at the same rate which I moved away from it, and did not disappear once I glanced away. The sun, still too bright to observe directly, remained where it was when I last checked. If it were moving, it was with measured slowness.

        The consistency troubled me. It means I was likely at the mercy of this experience, rather than the other way around. Once at the road, I looked to both sides. Not having any preference, I opted to walk uphill.

        Although I was not afforded the same courtesy, I will spare the reader the full recounting of my hike. Know that at the end, I was drained, and thoroughly convinced against the prospect of this being a dream. No dream would be this taxing. I could not guess at how I was placed from my bed into a massive surreal landscape. The most recent I remembered was a late night on the Internet, discussing the finer points of a "Mods are asleep" thread. I felt the tug of a half formed idea in my head, but I didn't put it together. That is, until I saw it.

        Looking up, I was shocked. Buildings spanned before me. Pastel colored walls, wooden fences. In what seemed to be the center, a massive leafy tree, perforated with windows. Beside the quaint door, there was a sign bearing the image of a book. This tree housed a library. To be short, I saw a town. I saw the town, the one both of us are thinking of. Unmistakably, but obviously, Ponyville.

        I was not mistaken. There was no way I could have been, having seen this very town so many times. From my vantage point, I could see my road leading to a bridge over a provincial little brook. Multiple shops and storefronts, homes and monuments sprawled ahead of me in an expanse. Further out, I recognized the pink lacy roof of what must have been Rarity’s boutique.

To say my mind was simply “reeling” would be an exercise in understatement. A combination of sheer disbelief and the utter absurdity of the situation rendered me far more debilitated than simply “reeling”. I had previously decided I was not experiencing a dream. Confronted then with the exotic and ostentatious architecture of a children’s show, I began to doubt myself again. The implications that arose were vast and frightening.

        Nothing was more frightening than the moving shapes along the streets of the town. Quadrupedal. Multicolored. Ponies.

        Here was the part in my recollection where I began to doubt my grasp of reality. Hallucinogens could easily account for both my physical condition, and the recent peculiarities of my environment. I had inhaled something, maybe? I am not the type that would partake in the sampling of those substances, so this is unusual. Apart from my weariness, (which was rapidly disappearing) my hunger and thirst, I felt physically fine. Some mental shock must have befallen me. Could I be comatose right now, victim of some bleed or head wound?

        This conclusion was no comfort to me. Any condition where I was seeing cartoon ponies in a physical realm is not a prime condition. But yet, I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a joyful part of my reaction.

        When I said before that we share common knowledge regarding ponies, I was not lying. I studiously watched each new episode, participated in fervent discussions on the minutiae of the equine world. I wonder if that was the direct cause of my situation. If it were, and I knew it to be so, would I have delved so easily into the depths of bronyism?

        It took me a few moments of reverent silence and incapacity before I regained the will to move. During this time, I simply observed. I actually watched what I had previously only seen in facsimile.

        They truly were ponies. From my distance, I could not distinguish individual features. But I saw enough to know for sure. I saw them gather in little conversational groups, or wander around the market. I saw ponies hauling goods, and conducting what looked to be pony commerce. I was observing a very real pony open-air market.

        Some part of me gave way. The worried part of my psyche took a bow, and promptly fell silent. I was overtaken by a manic excitement, filled with a desire to rush forward and embrace my new hooved friends. I nearly rushed into town, before regaining my wits and redirecting myself into some cartoon shrubbery. This was a situation that required tact, I decided.

        It was then I realized that I would not enjoy a dream where I constantly doubt my perception of reality. As you have likely garnered, I can go on forever about that. I may be dead, perfectly fine, or any permutation thereof, but the fact remained that the ponies were here, and I wanted to see them.

        I was not entirely sure of the accuracy of my fan-gained knowledge, or of the reactions that the Equestrians may have to me. But, I always was a fan of experiential learning.

        How then, to proceed? Should I just march into town, and quickly insert myself into the solving of their personal problems? Should I just wait around until I become important in some sort of ancient and mystical plot? I considered my options. To be truthful, curiosity was among my prime motivations.

An actual world of Equestria. How does it function? Thousands of questions sprung to mind. How does the astronomy of Equestria work if the sun and moon are raised by deities? How does a town build and develop tools without opposable digits? What is their knowledge of electricity?

        None of these questions were useful to me at the current moment. What I needed to know was how to go about entering the town. I look benign by human standards, but I may come across as frightful to a pony. Thankfully, the ponies haven’t shown any particular propensity for violence, so I was likely safe in that regard. I supposed I should just walk into town and start talking. If I don’t understand their language, then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. That never happens, anyway.

        What else was I going to do? Crouch in the bushes for the rest of this adventure? No. I stood up and proceeded slowly towards the gaily painted buildings of Ponyville. It was likely that I was shaking with nerves, and looked rather bedraggled from my journey.

        This could explain why the first pony that sighted me acted how she did. She was purple and blue. As I was walking down the path, she turned her head towards me. I stopped walking. She stopped walking. At that point, she screamed, and bolted behind a building. The scream drew the attention of the entire plaza in my direction. There was a moment of indescribable silence as a hundred equine eyes gazed at something they had never seen before.

        Then, in a clatter of sound I heard doors and windows slamming shut, ponies running indoors. Carts were wheeled away, and soon I was left in an empty Ponyville Plaza. An abandoned apple lay smashed on the ground.

It had gone as well as could be expected, really.

I slowly made my way in the direction where I spotted the library. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed the occasional glaring pony, and heard snatches of hushed conversation. I realized that Ponyville was on the edge of a forest known for containing monsters. Maybe I am another monster to them? I hoped that I could speak with an educated pony on the matter, one that would not be so quick to panic.

I reached the door of the library. It was adorned inexplicably with a painting of a candle, which I hadn’t noticed until I was standing in front of it, preparing to knock. I heard hoofed footfalls on the other side of the door, so I knew someone (Somepony? Should I adopt the vernacular so quickly?) was on the other side. I rapped my knuckles against the wood.

After a few seconds, the door opened. Standing at knee height inside of the library was a scaly purple-and-green lizardlike creature. His eyes traveled up and met mine, and his tiny draconic brow furrowed in a visage of annoyance. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Twilight!,” Spike yelled. “It’s for you!”

“Who is- Oh!” Inside of the  library, a purple pony stepped into view. I spotted upon her head a single horn, and saw a sparkly symbol on her side. “Um. Hello!” Twilight spoke, a nervous smile dawning on her face. Pony expressions are a curious thing, which I hope you may someday witness. The eyes are larger than usual in proportion with the rest of the features, but the face manages to still be quite expressive and vivacious. Ponies would be terrible liars. She continued: “Do-... Do you speak Equestrian?” I looked at her in what must have been confusion.

I replied: “No, but I speak English, which apparently sounds like the same thing.” Twilight’s expression turned into surprise. Spike, apparently less interested, walked away from the door.

        A moment of silence passed. “Uh, come in!” Twilight said, gesturing inside with a tilt of her head. I entered the library. It must have been in between cleanings, because books adorned nearly every surface. The library was split into multiple rooms across three floors. The one I sheepishly shuffled into looked to be an entry way of sorts, although still filled with shelves.

        “Sooo...” Twilight said, visibly shaken by my appearance. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. Who... um, and what are you?”

        This moment in time is important to mark because it is where I made a decision. Nobody likes to be told they are fictional; I’m sure I would react very adversely to it. I decided then, not to betray any of my previous knowledge of the ponies or Equestria. I would act a little lie, just for the purposes of simplicity.

        I mumbled out an answer. Something along the lines that I was “Edward Hubert”, (which was true,) some people call me Ed, (true) and I am human. (True.)

        “...How can I help you, Ed?” She said cautiously.

***

Thus proceeded a long back-and-forth interview. Twilight was nervous at first, but I could perceive obvious signs of curiosity and excitement. I was not wrong in my guess that such a scholarly pony would quickly pick up on an opportunity to learn. Also, she was quite able to answer many of my questions about Equestria.

        I told her that I was from a different planet which I could not easily return to. This only seemed to satisfy her slightly, and I later filled her in on details concerning earth. She seemed unusually intrigued when I mentioned the concept of democracy and leadership after speaking about countries. This unsettled me. I attempted to avoid many questions of technology or turmoil. I did not want to frighten her with wars or atrocities, and did not want to chaotically affect Equestria’s scientific development.

        I had learned from her the answers to some of my earlier questions. The sun and moon are massive artifacts of magical power, each orbiting Equestria. The sister princesses were tasked each 12 hours with propelling their respective celestial object through the sky, through a complicated ritual involving heavy math and powerful magic.

Yes, I told her, we really don’t control the weather. We deal with hurricanes mainly by running.

Apparently, Magic is an extension of a pony’s will to affect changes on their environment. The actual forces exerted seem to be from some cosmic vibration of sorts, but the physics are out of reach of any pony’s understanding. This magic seems to be easier to channel through keratin and bone. The horn allows unicorns to project, and affect changes at a range, or create complicated effects. The most earth ponies and pegasi can do is use their magic as a grip, allowing them somewhat fine manipulation with their hooves. This manipulation could even be fine enough to pluck the strings of an instrument, or tighten the springs of a watch.

 No, our planet moves around the sun. Well, yes, I’m sure it will eventually stop, but that will take quite a while.

Throughout the conversation, I glimpsed occasional spots of movement. I would look out a window only to see a head of a pony dart away. Twilight would usually then distract me with another question.

This proceeded for quite some time, until a loud series of events happened all at once. I was seated upon the floor, as chairs are not as common among ponies. Twilight lay next to a desk, which I first assumed to be a coffee table. The door burst open, and in bounced a shock of pink hair and energy.

“Twilight, did you hear! A scary, skinny monster thing just walked right into town and Lyra said she saw it and I was wonder-” Eventually, she noticed. Pinkie glared at me with her giant pony eyes, and gasped dramatically.

“WOW! What is it!?”

        Dear reader, please allow me to present a fraction of our current story via a montage of visualizations. Although unusual, It will save both of us from inconvenience and boredom, and grant me some brevity. I have a feeling that my previous recounting may err a little verbose. To summarize the events directly after the last narration, please imagine the following mental images:

The face of Pinkie Pie, gasping wide in surprise. Then: A tidal wave composed entirely of pink question marks. Myself, sputtering amongst the noise and punctuation. Twilight Sparkle tossing a life preserver (The life preserver is inscribed with the words “metaphor”, for some of the slower readers).

I feel that these images may help to understand that little scene. Who would want to read the whole thing anyway?

At a brief reprieve from Pinkie’s rapid-fire interrogation, Twilight interrupted. “Actually Pinkie, it’d be a big help if you could fetch the other girls. The news has probably reached them, and I’m sure they’re just as curious as you are.” She emphasized her point with a nod of her head.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!”(She continued yammering as she trotted out the door.)“Dashie will be all suspicious and maybe Applejack too, but Fluttershy will be nice to you first and as long as you talk fancy Rarity might be polite and...”        

Her voice trailed off as she walked away. The next few moments were awkward and quiet in contrast, reminiscent of the deafness after standing near an explosion. The noise that finally broke the silence happened to be my growling stomach. Twilight, showcasing her stunning powers of deduction, asked me if I was hungry. I nodded, and she again wore her smile and began walking towards the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks, as if she had just read a bad simile. She then turned her head back and beamed nervously.

“Ehehe... What do you eat, exactly?”

Oh yes, the sticky question of meat. Diet had been a topic we neglected to touch upon during our earlier discussion. Well, at least meat wasn’t the direct question. Not if I could help it, at least. Bringing forth all of my wits and guile I instantly constructed a brilliant phrase, sure to allay all implications and suspicions of carnivorousness.

“...food.”

While my verbal masterpiece had it’s effect, I put on a stone face which would have left the greatest “hold ’em” players bowing humbly. At least I did, until some unknown force made me clear my throat and investigate the titles in the bookcases.

“Will a lettuce sandwich be ok?”

A lettuce sandwich would do just fine. Midway through that sandwich, I cautioned a glance out the window of the tree-house. More badly hidden ponies were half-obscured in bushes and behind fences. One upturned cardboard box “inexplicably” lay in the open street.

Twilight arrived with the snack. “Don’t mind them; they aren’t used to... visitors. You should have seen them when we had a Zebra arrive in town.” We know Twilight; we all saw it. I chewed sagely on my leafy sandwich (note that pun please, I’m quite proud of it).

Minutes later, an excited knocking was heard from the door, and I turned to face five ponies. Across the room stood the stormy-faced Dash, grinning Pie, shocked Applejack, confused Rarity, and also long pink bangs that promised to show a face later when the situation was less frightening. No longer able to enjoy my sandwich because of this, I stared sheepishly. They stared ponishly. Time quietly shuffled past.

        “What the hay are you, and what do you think you’re doing!?” Shouted one pegasus, sky-blue and prismatically hued, face contorted into a confused scowl.

        The orange mare with the hat spoke: “Whoa there Dash, be pah-lite.” She turned to me and attempted a smile. “Ah’m Applejack, how d’yah do?” These words arrived as she thrust a foreleg at my direction: an accusatory gesture demanding a hand(hoof?)shake. Meanwhile, no one else has any apostrophes to use, because Applejack speaks them all.

I recall the rest of that evening in small snippets of conversation. Applejack introduced everyone, except for Rarity, who announced herself and wondered aloud if I really thought plaid was a good choice for this season.

My response: “That would be implying it was a choice, Ms. Rarity.” I had the privilege of witnessing a face of half-concealed contempt, for a moment.

Inquiries and replies, questions and answers. Pinkie Pie was the leader of the communication; it seemed that she (regrettably) never hesitated to ask whatever vapid little question bloated up in her bubbling head.  Rainbow Dash found it appropriate to approach the scene as an interrogation and at one tense point, accused me of being a troll. Twilight shot down this theory: she said trolls don’t usually leave their parent’s caves. Rarity seemed to be making an effort to don a friendly smile, but I noticed a slight eye-twitch and down-turn of the cheeks as she surreptitiously inspected my now dirty and frayed apparel.

Fluttershy seemed to believe she would disappear if we all forgot about her, and made every attempt to sink through the floorboards. I played a slight game of glances to attempt to ambush her into eye contact but my motives may have been misconstrued. Dash (squinting with suspicion) stepped quite obviously between me and her.

Spike was forgotten both by the reader and the narrator, as he is not a pony.

 Among my slipping perceptions was my sense of time, and I noticed with a yawning glance at the window that it was now dark.

        “Well, Mr. Ed,” twanged Applejack, “You look plum-tuckered out. Now, I know yer lost an’ all an’ it ain’t very hospitable o’ me, but our guest house floor just caved in last night. Yer gonna hafta bunk in one o’ the others houses.”

Twilight put her hoof at her chin in thought.

“Hmmm... Well, I’ve got no room for someone of your size, and neither does Rarity or Pinkie. Um, Rainbow lives in the clouds, and-” A loud but dull clatter interrupted Twilight.

        “Eep!” squeaked Fluttershy, as she cowered wide-eyed before the group. A pile of books splayed across the ground outwardly from her. There was a pause, and then a barely quieted angry grumble from Rainbow Dash.

        Twilight continued hesitantly: “...Looks like you have to ask to stay at Fluttershy’s tonight.”

        This was where I tried to look friendly as possible for a couple of seconds. Personal note to self: next time, remember that a full-toothed smiling grimace is not considered “friendly” to ponies.

        Indulge me now and let me relate a peculiar notion. Fancy for a moment that I had a kind of anonymous “chorus” of commentators. It would be ridiculous for them to assume their opinions had any effect on my tale. (Do I sound like a storyteller that needs their help?) If they had any hypothetical effect, I'd have to hypothetically thank them. Thus, there would be in the theoretical air an imaginary sound of a conjectural pair of hands clapping, supposedly applauding this chorus.

        But this is all silly. Even if they had an effect, how could they presume that I would want to acknowledge them?

        These are the niggling little thoughts that simmered my scalp as I lay prostrate in a pile of hay on a (very)hard-wood floor.  I bedded in a small shed, with a burlap sack of chicken feed as my only bedfellows. This parody of sleeping was all I presently could do to repay Fluttershy for the unusual and profoundly uncomfortable intrusion I made into her home.

        I will relate the events directly before this, merely to provide a valuable study on how something that seemed like a reasonable idea can quickly turn into a shipwreck of titanic proportions.

***

        Twilight's tree with the house inside. Ponies inside the house inside the tree, like a Russian toy. The sun had swirled past it's apex and under the horizon, and somewhere Luna was hoisting up a silver crescent. I recall Fluttershy's paralyzed stare, and her squeaking, reluctant assent when I asked to lodge at her house for a night. I do not consider myself intimidating, but this is Fluttershy we're referring to. Everypony there had a nervous undertone to their expression (Rainbow Dash with a vehement snarl), and even Pinkie looked doubtful. However, it was late and Fluttershy lived on the edge of town. She muttered something imperceptible, and walked outside.

        She shivered with fear as she trotted through the town, me loping shadily along side her. Her gaze was once again fastened to the ground. Once, a rustle gave her a start, and she nervously hastened her ambling pace. I had to speed into a bustling power-walk. Fluttershy, having the quadrupedal advantage, still outpaced me in her panicked shuffle. In an attempt to gain her attention, I spoke her name. This proved to be a mistake.

        She made a peculiar strained gasping sound, like a scream that she was too scared not to strangle. With this, she broke into a full gallop. I was confused, and in my infinite wisdom decided to follow after her, at speed. I am no athlete, but with some effort I managed to follow.

        It is difficult to predict the circumstances that would lead one to chase Fluttershy at full speed in the dark of night, straight to her front door (slammed in my face). In my case, my reasons were legitimate, and nonthreatening. Other individuals, such as Angel the rabbit (devoted and aggressive vermin that he is) had taken a different perception of the situation. For this, I do not blame him. I too would not trust a half-haired ape in tattered bedwear, red-faced and gasping, lunging spastically after the innocent, waif-like lady of the house. I also would doubt the pure and justifiable motivations of that character.

        I do blame him, however, for my several lacerations and bruises that he soon inflicted upon me. At Fluttershy's doorstep I paused and hunched over, trying to inhale the entire atmosphere. (Speaking of atmosphere, I had trudged monstrously through a patch of flowers: another injury I meted upon poor Fluttershy.) After a few short seconds of composing myself, I tentatively pushed open the cottage door.

        I slipped into the cottage discreetly. I noticed at once that I had to stoop under the doorframe. The cottage was lowly-lit by glowing insects in jars, and smelled charming despite the amount of beasts which must scurry through its walls. Fluttershy was nowhere to be seen, but I heard dull hoof-falls from the floor above me. I cautioned another step into the middle of the room.

        This moment was when I was acquainted with a whole new level of pain. I heard a creak and a snap, and felt sharp impact on the top of my head. Splintering wood, a birdhouse shattered itself to pieces upon my cranium. At the time I was completely dumbfounded, but I now know that a particular resident of the cottage had gnawed the rope hanging a birdhouse above my unsuspecting self

        That white furred hellion, Angel. In my stunned state, I tottered forward, slamming bodily into a wall. My memory is not perfect, but I was likely to have shouted expletives which have never before poisoned the Equestrian air. My vulnerable slouch against the wall was when I suffered the fangs of that little ball of anger and pain. I saw a shape of white dart about at my ankles, latching himself on to a fleshy heel. I yowled in colorful language, and lost my balance.

        The next few moments were a donnybrook (word of the day) of unprecedented sorts. Angel sharply protested my presence with his teeth, and I attempted to grab and debilitate the rodent. We tumbled about on the floor hideously.

        “Angel! Oh my!” Fluttershy stood, wide eyed, at the bottom of the staircase.

I paused from the tussle (which I was invariably losing) and looked at Fluttershy. Angel scrabbled over, and planted his tiny person between me and her. He glared and snarled with an expression of liquid hate alien to all other rabbit kind.

        A pause. I took stock of the situation. At this moment, I made a novel observation. Be it because I am a cruel being, or because I am as much of a monster as I appeared, at that moment I found Fluttershy absolutely pitiable. The sick little stew of fear and confusion had painted itself on her visage. I looked upon her quivering equine lips and wide watering pony eyes. She was a glass sculpture of a creature, and here was brutish me on her floor, sat in a pile of splinters, gazing malevolently.

        The best single word to tell the reader is “Guilt”. I lived in that moment a million years of sickly, numbing guilt. I swam in wide oceans of guilty water. I ate a million guilty meals (without paying).

        I gushed every apology I knew, and slowly rose. I drug my wounded feet out the front door, apologizing even to the wreckage I stepped upon. I slowly closed the door behind me. I heard nothing from Fluttershy.

        After a few chilly minutes of loitering out in front, I spotted the shed. I entered. It contained feed bags of many sorts, and a smattering of hay on the floor. “All the accommodation I deserve,” said a miniscule me.

***

        I shuddered awake to a quiet tapping on the shed. I was blearily aware that it was still night time, but a decent amount of time later. I wobbled my leaden bones to the door, and slowly drew it open. I was standing in front of Fluttershy. She was affecting a resolute, polite smile (bless her, the brave dear) and even though she shuddered a bit, I could tell she had something to say. She spoke with a cotton voice befitting her delicacy.

        “Angel says he's sorry. Um... I'm sorry too for... uh, running. I was...” She gulped. “...scared.”

        A pause. I mumbled my same apologies from earlier. I was impressed with the tenacity she was showing, but was confused at her motivation. Why not let me rot in the shack? What terrible motivations could be hiding behind those piercing and tear-reddened eyes? Battered, bleeding, and with a terrible crick in my neck, I had no choice but to find out.

***

        I snortled, which is the precise sound one is expected to make when barely containing both laughter and tea. You would never expect it (That’s why this story is brilliant.) but underneath her sweet demeanor and purported innocence, Fluttershy could turn a funny phrase unlike any I’ve heard. We sat around a coffee table, heretically consuming tea, and chatting late into the night.

The exact path to this moment is blurry and indistinct, but a condensed version is as follows: She was feeling as nearly as guilty as I was about the confusing events from earlier, and invited me back inside. Angel glared, but Fluttershy had suggested that he take his tired little bunny self and jump into a river. Or at least, that’s what the foolish reader would believe. Pity must be a powerful emotion in her, for she tried to tend to my wounds by offering tea. As I sat sipping the beverage, Fluttershy whispered a little question about the wildlife from “where I come from”. By the way she said it, I could tell she had been wondering for a while.

Question led to answer, which led to clarification and declaration, and without entirely knowing how, we end up laughing together late into the night, all the stresses from earlier forgotten.

This was one of the treasured moments that I remember from my ersten foray into Equestria. I recall it best, because of the violent contrast to the moments right after.

“Stop right there!” I whirled around to see an imperious and commanding stallion, adorned in ornate and heavy golden armor. He strode directly into the room, his hooves crunching over the destroyed birdhouse. I may have dropped my teacup.

“You’re under arrest by the Exalted Imperium of Celestia,” he spat into my face, “You are to accompany us to the royal court to be tried on offenses that I am unable to disclose. Leave the tea.”

        Think back for a moment on the previous events of my story. Now, kindly disregard them. These moments ahead are when manure became tangible, and the precedent set by my earlier recountings is unabashedly dashed against the rocks. Yes, we shall enter into this next section with new-found profundity. (At least until the next section after this turns out to be further profound, more intense, and even more earth-shattering.)

        Regarding issues that are actually interesting: The inside of a prisoner’s carriage is not a charming place.  It’s a splintery arrangement of unfinished wood and iron bars.The joke’s on the stallion that has to pull the carriage, though. If their arrest was fair, you’d think the prisoner would be the one that ferries around the officers? The Equestrian Guards were very dull chauffeurs however, as they seemed to be utterly unable to either laugh at this joke or even make light conversation. One pegasus pulled the carriage, somehow heaving the rickety wooden cage through the air. Meanwhile, the sky-bucket was flanked on either side by two other pegasuses of equally steely demeanor.

I recall my removal from Fluttershy’s cottage. It was nearing sunrise, and withered little strips of luminescence slithered in through the windows. Her worried face looked on to see a perpetually confused Edward Hubert corralled out by a gilded stallion. I can only assume that she watched as I clambered into the cramped carriage, (outfitted with another royal worker) and then witnessed my ironic ascension. Low angle to emphasize the height, lens flare to show the morning sun casting shadows afore her. Slow fade out. Can’t you just taste the symbolism?

After that, I don’t know. She probably scraped up the shattered birdhouse off the floor and grumbled mildly at her trampled flower patch.

        En route to Canterlot, I dozed off for a bit. I dreamt that I was in a bland gray box, pretending to work. Eventually, I fell asleep in my dream, too. (I never claimed to have an exciting subconscious.) As I woke up twice,  I wondered if that was actually my second, or third dream.

        Canterlot in all it’s glory nevertheless held no answer, and I was prodded forward. I maneuvered the even streets, pausing only briefly to gape open-mouthedly at the psuedo-arabic domes and spiraling columns of the illustrious city. (It was almost like a Minas Tirith for girls!) My eager protectors didn’t leave me much time to dawdle, as I was herded up the marble steps of the royal palace. After an escapade through the luxurious and well-lit castle hallways, we entered a spacious area, lit from above by the sun through stained glass depictions of divine pony epics. A bit unpolished, but still commendable. It looked to be a throne room. Or at least, a room with a throne in it, which I assume are the requirements to designate a throne room.

        A very wide throne (more of a couch); it had to be wide enough to accommodate the reclining form of the ruling monarch of Equestria, Princess Celestia. There she was, with her pastel hair billowing like undergarments on a laundry line. Her Majesty’s mouth was cocked in an unbalanced smirk, eyebrow arched in cold, calculating condescension. Her crown was pretty, I guess.

        I stood ambiguously on a lush carpet, wringing my hands. The air was so thick with tension that it stained my shirt. The pause was so pregnant that it had remodeled the guest room into a nursery.

        “So are you the nasty little ape who’s been sleeping with my little ponies?”

        “What!?,” I first thought.

        “What!?,” I then said.

        A brief, silent moment. The royal brow furrowed in confusion. Then, realization, and a light mocking giggle.

        “Oh, excuse me, I misspoke. I meant that you had been staying with them. Interacting with them. Is this correct?”

        “Yes...” I answered with trepidation. Which Celestia was this? Formal, motherly Celestia? Cruel, conniving tyrant Celestia? Molestia!?

        “So, which one’s your favorite?” Celestia beamed sunnily.

“What,” indeed, reader.

***

        “Excuse me, but I think there’s a misunderstanding here! Aren’t I arrested?” My eyes darted about the room for my imperial escorts, but saw only one leaning nonchalantly against a pillar. He glowered back at me casually. “You don’t seem like a very good guard, and this is a terrible prison!”

        The princess laughed gracefully at first, a sound like breeze-touched windchimes. However, typically windchimes don’t then commence into hideous snorting and gasping for breath. I saw the singular being in charge of a massive kingdom, and she was rolling sideways on her throne. Her face grotesquely contorted with mirth. She raised a hoof and wiped a tear from her eye, smugly grinning. She managed to dismissively gesture at the guard, who then sauntered off.

“They’re just for show, really. I was messing with you. Oh, don’t scowl like that, you’d have done the same thing in my place! Here, I’ll explain this all to you. What do you think is the single strongest thing I feel after ruling this land for more than a thousand years? Oh, get off your high horse, Ed. it’s not ‘responsibility’, it’s boredom!”

        Her royal highness crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. Gracefully. Sensing my bewilderment, she continued.

“Look, I won’t burden you by explaining the metaphysics of... this whole situation. That’s for someone who’s even more bored than me.”

She crossed her forehooves regally.

“We watch the same events. Well, I watch them closer, I guess. Not getting it? Hah, and you pretend to be so smart.”

I took a seat on the floor, jaw still slack. Celestia spoke with barely muted relish, and elegant hoof-gestures.

“I set it all up! I needed something to watch! Well, and there was that whole Nightmare Moon deal. But honestly, I could have just arrested the six and have literally thrown them at Nightmare and it still would have worked. I’ve had my eye on each of them for a long while. Scrying is the most entertaining type of magic I’ve done for centuries!”

I rubbed my forehead with an exasperated air. “Hold on for a second! You mean to say you orchestrated Twilight’s move to Ponyville, her adventures, everything... so you’d have something to watch!?”

“Well, her reports are sometimes useful.... but yes. Haven’t you heard? I’m kind of in charge here.”

“Don’t you know that all of this is a--”

“Don’t say it!” Celestia’s eyes were wide and she leaned forward. “Very powerful magic is involved here. If you even imply certain ‘facts,’ ” (Airquotes with hooves were a curious sight.) “Some important realities may... collapse. So, if you were going to say what this all exactly is, please reconsider.”

Reader, I presume you are as confused now as I was then. In short, Celestia is a brony too, except she’s the one in charge of the canon. This whole situation seemed like a comedy, in the classical sense.

I continued, still flabbergasted: “So why am I here?”

“Oh! I wanted to talk to someone else about... all this. Sometimes, I need someone to enthuse to. When I told Luna, she was just disgusted and went back to her room. You’d think some other deity was trying to hook her up with her abacus. Anyway, I wanted some conversation related to their escapades. Trans-universe magic, as it turns out, is very specific and effective.”

“You brought me from a different universe to chat about... all this!? I could have destroyed a reality just now!”

“Oh, come on. I could fix it. You should have seen last time!”

“What!?”

“Hey, I might be joking! Look, can we skip the incredulous whining part? You probably didn’t have anything more interesting going on. Lighten up, let’s talk. So, wouldn’t Rainbowjack be the best thing ever?

I crossed my arms and glared disapprovingly.

“...I prefer Dashiepie.”

“Celestia, I need sleep. Let me sleep.”

        “But I want to know! Do you think ‘You Gotta Share’ was satire or not?”

        “That’s enough. I’m ending it. Ending it all.”

        “Oh, you wouldn’t dare.”

        “This is-”

        “Don’t do it!”

        “-all a TV show!”

        “Nothing happened. Well, all for the better. So: What are your opinions on wingboners?”

        “I know why it didn’t work.”

        “Oh? Enlighten me.”

        “Because: This isn’t a tv show. It’s a fanfi-”

THE END

Authors Note: As tempted as I am, I will not let the character of the fic escape into the author’s notes. (Only in the parentheses.) This whole fic is completely experimental, which is my excuse if you thought it was bad. No, you didn’t catch every joke. To prove it to you, enclosed is a list of every joke and reference in “Imposition”.  Hell, even I didn’t catch all the jokes, so if you see any one that I missed, just know that I still take credit for it. I have plans to write more fics.  These next ones will not be as experimental, and in those the characters won’t try to escape their story. (Try? You mean ‘succeed’.)

JOKE LIST:

Imposition 1:

-The title “Imposition” can refer to what an inserted character must seem like to a universe they are not originally from.

-“Dear reader,” is a reference to Lolita, and calling the reference pretentious is recursive self deprecation.

-”awkwardness and presumptuousness of these hackish writers” is intentional irony. Lampshaded in “it’s likely the irony is setting in”

-”discerning tastes” is a joke; it would not be very discerning to tell the difference between grass and bedding.

-”Ceci n’est pas une cloud” refers to the french picture of the pipe.

-”The entirety of my surroundings were representations and interpretations. (More than usually, I mean.)” is reference to philosophical notions of fallible perception.

-”I did not recognize quite whose world it was yet.” is shared glibness with the reader, as the reader and the narrator both know that it is a My Little Pony fanfic, but the character does not.

-”Lucidity is always a nice thing to have.” Ironic, because the character is not lucid enough to know he is in a fanfic.

-”I was clothed, so it obviously wasn't one of those dreams.” Bawdy humor reference to sex dreams.

-”My dreams are not perfect.” weak excuse for any errors in the fic.

-”I am the creator of my own disappointments.” I don’t actually remember why I put in this line. Maybe I was pre-emptively pranking my self's future attempts to analyze it. Let’s just pretend it’s hilarious.

-”until my subconscious dreamed me up some water.” narrator jokingly asking the writer to put some water in the story.

-“although curving and twirling with unnecessary and inefficient style. (Maybe I was trying to tell myself something via symbolism.)” commentary on my florid writing style.

-”If it were moving, it was with measured slowness.” Comment on the over-description that was present in the fic.

-”discussing the finer points of a "Mods are asleep" thread.” reference to image board tomfoolery.

-”the one both of us are thinking of.”  glib mention of how the reader already knows it’s Ponyville, because of course it’s a My Little Pony fanfic.

Imposition 2:

-”From my vantage point, I could see my road leading... “ “my road” refers to how it’s both the author’s road and the road that the narrator travels on.

-”To say my mind was simply ‘reeling’ would be an exercise in understatement. A combination of sheer disbelief and the utter absurdity of the situation rendered me far more debilitated than simply ‘reeling’. “ commentary on the often used expression ‘my mind was reeling.’

-”Quadrupedal. Multicolored. Ponies.” just sounds funny.

-”Any condition where I was seeing cartoon ponies in a physical realm is not a prime condition.” humorous phrase, over-verbose statement.

-”I was overtaken by a manic excitement, filled with a desire to rush forward and embrace my new hooved friends. I nearly rushed into town, before regaining my wits and redirecting myself into some cartoon shrubbery. “ humorous mental image.

-”It was then I realized that I would not enjoy a dream where I constantly doubt my perception of reality. As you have likely garnered, I can go on forever about that.” comment on the playing with the fourth wall in the fic.

-”How then, to proceed? Should I just march into town, and quickly insert myself into the solving of their personal problems? Should I just wait around until I become important in some sort of ancient and mystical plot? “ parodical mention of other human-in-Equestria or regular fics.

-”If I don’t understand their language, then I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. That never happens, anyway.” reference to conveinences taken for granted in most fics.

-”Then, in a clatter of sound I heard doors and windows slamming shut, ponies running indoors. Carts were wheeled away, and soon I was left in an empty Ponyville Plaza. An abandoned apple lay smashed on the ground. “ reference to “Bridle Gossip”

-”It had gone as well as could be expected, really.” humorous understatement.

-”It was adorned inexplicably with a painting of a candle, which...” Why is there a candle on the door, anyway?

-”’Twilight!,’ Spike yelled. ‘It’s for you!’” I think I stole this joke from a TV show. Either that, or a webcomic called ‘Vinci & Arty”. Anyone one else read that? Let me know if you had, I though it was a pretty cool comic. Their site is currently down, sadly.

-”Ponies would be terrible liars.” reference to “Party of One”.

-”’No, but I speak English, which apparently sounds like the same thing.’” another poke at fanfic language conveinence conventions.

-”Nobody likes to be told they are fictional; I’m sure I would react very adversely to it.” ironic self reference, because the narrator is the character in the fic.

-”’Edward Hubert’” “Hubert” is a reference to Humbert Humbert from Lolita, and Edward is there just to make the “Mr. Ed” joke.

-”She seemed unusually intrigued when I mentioned the concept of democracy and leadership after speaking about countries.” reference to tyrant Celestia fanon.

-”We deal with hurricanes mainly by running. “ visual joke?

-”Well, yes, I’m sure it will eventually stop, but that will take quite a while.” understatement.

-”Eventually, she noticed. Pinkie glared at me with her giant pony eyes, and gasped dramatically.” attempt to describe Pinkie’s in show appearances/Twilight’ introduction in the pilot.

Imposition 3:

-”Although unusual, It will save both of us from inconvenience and boredom, and grant me some brevity. I have a feeling that my previous recounting may err a little verbose. “ reference to the commenters in the Equestria Daily page that said it was too wordy. Also self-parody.

-”(The life preserver is inscribed with the words “metaphor”, for some of the slower readers).” Sarcastic swipe at people who didn’t get the more subtle parts, also a parody of very obvious symbolism.

-”Who would want to read the whole thing anyway? “ Self-deprecation, also ironic because you read it.

-”Twilight, showcasing her stunning powers of deduction,” Making fun of ‘captain obvious’es

-”he stopped in her tracks, as if she had just read a bad simile.” the statement itself is a bad simile. Self-parody on the writer.

-”Bringing forth all of my wits and guile I instantly constructed a brilliant phrase, “ sarcasm.

-”While my verbal masterpiece had it’s effect, I put on a stone face which would have left the greatest “hold ’em” players bowing humbly. “ more sarcasm.

-”One upturned cardboard box “inexplicably” lay in the open street.” reference both to Metal Gear and the “Ponies meet /co/” fic I read.

-”’Don’t mind them; they aren’t used to... visitors. You should have seen them when we had a Zebra arrive in town.’ We know Twilight; we all saw it.” reference to “Bridle Gossip”, and a parody of fics that sort of awkwardly force in episode references. Self parody, because the author did that earlier.

-”I chewed sagely on my leafy sandwich (note that pun please, I’m quite proud of it).” ‘Sage’ is a plant, making ‘sagely’ a plant pun. Also, I comment on how obvious the pun was, and also on how the author actually wants his subtle jokes to be found.

-”the stormy-faced Dash,” reference to Dash being a weather pegasus.

-”also long pink bangs that promised to show a face later when the situation was less frightening.” Fluttershy is shy.

-”No longer able to enjoy my sandwich because of this,” reference to “Krystal can’t enjoy her sandwich” meme.

-”I stared sheepishly. They stared ponishly” verbal joke/pun on the word “sheepishly”.

-”Meanwhile, no one else has any apostrophes to use, because Applejack speaks them all.” commentary on how this author and other writes Applejack’s dialogue.

-”at one tense point, accused me of being a troll. Twilight shot down this theory: she said trolls don’t usually leave their parent’s caves.”  reference and joke at the expense of internet trolls.

-”but I noticed a slight eye-twitch and down-turn of the cheeks as she surreptitiously inspected my now dirty and frayed apparel. “ reference to “Rarity has OCD” fanon.

-”Fluttershy seemed to believe she would disappear if we all forgot about her, and made every attempt to sink through the floorboards.” Fluttershy is shy.

-”I played a slight game of glances to attempt to ambush her into eye contact but my motives may have been misconstrued. Dash (squinting with suspicion) stepped quite obviously between me and her.” joke on the character’s motives being misinterpreted(?) as impure.

-”Spike was forgotten both by the reader and the narrator, as he is not a pony.” Seriously, who cares about Spike!?

-”Among my slipping perceptions was my sense of time, “ reference to fallible perceptions.

-”“Well, Mr. Ed,”” reference to that talking-horse TV show.

-”twanged Applejack,” reference to how the background scoring in FiM always has banjos when Applejack does anything.

-”but our guest house floor just caved in last night.” obviously too convenient.

-”“Eep!” squeaked Fluttershy, as she cowered wide-eyed before the group. A pile of books splayed across the ground outwardly from her. “ Fluttershy is shy.

-”Personal note to self: next time, remember that a full-toothed smiling grimace is not considered “friendly” to ponies.” according to one Equestria Daily commenter, this is a bad joke and I should feel bad.

Imposition 4:

-”Indulge me now and let me relate a peculiar notion. Fancy for a moment that I had a kind of anonymous “chorus” of commentators. It would be ridiculous for them to assume their opinions had any effect on my tale. (Do I sound like a storyteller that needs their help?) If they had any hypothetical effect, I'd have to hypothetically thank them. Thus, there would be in the theoretical air an imaginary sound of a conjectural pair of hands clapping, supposedly applauding this chorus.” Joking ‘Thank you’ to Equestria Daily commenters.

-”But this is all silly. Even if they had an effect, how could they presume that I would want to acknowledge them?” joking reference to how I jus acknowledged the Equestria Daily commenters.

-”This parody of sleeping...” reference to many parts in Lolita, where things are mentioned as being a “parody of *blank*”

-”turn into a shipwreck of titanic proportions.” Titanic was a shipwreck, a titanic shipwreck. Shipwreck also refers to ruining a fan shipping.

-”Twilight's tree with the house inside. Ponies inside the house inside the tree, like a Russian toy.” references to Russia area  reference to Lolita, because it’s the only book I’ve read that was written by a Russian guy.

-”I had to speed into a bustling power-walk.” visual joke.

-”It is difficult to predict the circumstances that would lead one to chase Fluttershy at full speed in the dark of night, straight to her front door (slammed in my face). In my case, my reasons were legitimate, and nonthreatening. Other individuals, such as Angel the rabbit (devoted and aggressive vermin that he is) had taken a different perception of the situation. For this, I do not blame him. I too would not trust a half-haired ape in tattered bedwear, red-faced and gasping, lunging spastically after the innocent, waif-like lady of the house. I also would doubt the pure and justifiable motivations of that character.” misinterpretation and visual jokes. Also, the use of parentheses is also a Lolita reference.

-”trying to inhale the entire atmosphere. (Speaking of atmosphere, I had trudged monstrously through a patch of flowers: “ overstatement, also companion mention of the flowerbed.

-”This moment was when I was acquainted with a whole new level of pain. I heard a creak and a snap, and felt sharp impact on the top of my head. Splintering wood, a birdhouse shattered itself to pieces upon my cranium.” Slapstick.

-”but I was likely to have shouted expletives which have never before poisoned the Equestrian air.” profanity is funny in My Little Pony fanfics.

-”were a donnybrook (word of the day)” not only is that a funny word, it also actually was the word of the day in one of my 11th grade English classes.

-”I paused from the tussle (which I was invariably losing)” ahahaha losing to a bunny, that moron.

-”I lived in that moment a million years of sickly, numbing guilt. I swam in wide oceans of guilty water. I ate a million guilty meals (without paying).” funny descriptions of guilt, also a very vague reference to Humbert’s insincere apology in Lolita.

-”“All the accommodation I deserve,” said a miniscule me.” parody of the weak literary device where a ‘small voice’ inside the character talks to them.

-”What terrible motivations could be hiding behind those piercing and tear-reddened eyes?” reference to many different grimdark stories.

-”I snortled, which is the precise sound one is expected to make when barely containing both laughter and tea. “ visual joke, and also a funny-soudning word.

-”but Fluttershy had suggested that he take his tired little bunny self and jump into a river. Or at least, that’s what the foolish reader would believe.” almost blatant rip off from a line in Lolita. Also, humorous to imagine a rude Fluttershy.

-”“Stop right there!”” reference to the City Guards in Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, and their internet meme.

-”I may have dropped my teacup.” humorous contrast.

-”Leave the tea.”” humorous contrast.

Imposition 5:

-”These moments ahead are when manure became tangible,” reference to “Shit just got real”.

-”Yes, we shall enter into this next section with new-found profundity. (At least until the next section after this turns out to be further profound, more intense, and even more earth-shattering.)” joke on how fics tend to build up and build up in a crescendo of twists.

-”The joke’s on the stallion that has to pull the carriage, though. If their arrest was fair, you’d think the prisoner would be the one that ferries around the officers? “ joke is already explained. Funny commentary on prison carriages.

-”morning sun casting shadows afore her” obviously pointing out the foreshadowing of the sun, which means Celestia.

-”Low angle to emphasize the height, lens flare to show the “ I dunno, I thought it’d be funny if I treated the fic like a movie for just a second.

-”Can’t you just taste the symbolism?” Sarcastic self-deprecation, and comment on obvious symbolism in other fics.

-”After that, I don’t know. She probably scraped up the shattered birdhouse off the floor and grumbled mildly at her trampled flower patch.” contrast, also grumbling Fluttershy is visually funny.

-”   En route to Canterlot, I dozed off for a bit. I dreamt that I was in a bland gray box, pretending to work. Eventually, I fell asleep in my dream, too. (I never claimed to have an exciting subconscious.) As I woke up twice,  I wondered if that was actually my second, or third dream.” Dream within a dream, reference to solipsism, which is a reference to Lolita. Also, playing with the fourth wall by guessing the layers of dream.  No, I’ve never seen Inception.

-”It was almost like a Minas Tirith for girls!” reference to quote from Lauren Faust.

-”was herded up the marble steps” reversal of roles, human being herded by ponies.

-”stained glass depictions of divine pony epics. A bit unpolished, but still commendable.” affectionate commentary on epic adventure pony stories.

-”It looked to be a throne room. Or at least, a room with a throne in it, which I assume are the requirements to designate a throne room.” reference to “Dwarf Fortress”, and also playing with throne room terminology.

-”There she was, with her pastel hair billowing like undergarments on a laundry line.” contrasting language with visuals.

-”cold, calculating condescension.” added alliterative appeal, and also a reference to planning gambit Celestia fanon.

-”Her crown was pretty, I guess.” sarcastic self-deprecation joke at the author’s style of description.

-”The air was so thick with tension that it stained my shirt. The pause was so pregnant that it had remodeled the guest room into a nursery.” playing with overused phrases.

-”“So are you the nasty little ape who’s been sleeping with my little ponies?”” Sex jokes are best jokes.

-”“What!?,” I first thought. “What!?,” I then said.” Joking again about character thought-commentary in other fics..

-”Which Celestia was this? Formal, motherly Celestia? Cruel, conniving tyrant Celestia? Molestia!?” References to different fanon interpretations of Celestia.

-”“So, which one’s your favorite?” Celestia beamed sunnily.” Introducing: Brony Celestia!

-”“What,” indeed, reader.” Trying to guess the reader’s thoughts, also references to the earlier “What!?”s.

-”“Excuse me, but I think there’s a misunderstanding here! Aren’t I arrested?” My eyes darted about the room for my imperial escorts, but saw only one leaning nonchalantly against a pillar. He glowered back at me casually. “You don’t seem like a very good guard, and this is a terrible prison!”” Attempt to write for a second in a Hitchhikers Guide to Equestra style because one of the Equestria Daily commenters mentioned it.

-”a sound like breeze-touched windchimes. However, typically windchimes don’t then commence into hideous snorting and gasping for breath.” parody of bad similes, and also contrasting rude descriptions with the graceful Celestia.

-”I saw the singular being in charge of a massive kingdom, and she was rolling sideways on her throne. “ responsibility and authority figure jokes.

-”“They’re just for show, really. I was messing with you. Oh, don’t scowl like that, you’d have done the same thing in my place! “ reference to Trollestia canon.

-”“They’re just for show, really. I was messing with you. Oh, don’t scowl like that, you’d have done the same thing in my place! Here, I’ll explain this all to you. What do you think is the single strongest thing I feel after ruling this land for more than a thousand years? Oh, get off your high horse, Ed. it’s not ‘responsibility’, it’s boredom!”” The whole paragraph being a single unstopped dialogue section is an imitation of another writer’s style, but I forget who.

-”Her royal highness crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. Gracefully. “ More contrast.

-”“Look, I won’t burden you by explaining the metaphysics of... this whole situation. That’s for someone who’s even more bored than me.” “ gentle mocking of people who figure out world and cosmology details.

-”I could have just arrested the six and have literally thrown them at Nightmare and it still would have worked. “ Tyrant Celestia reference.

-”Haven’t you heard? I’m kind of in charge here.”” reference to a Celestia image macro I saw.

-”“Don’t you know that all of this is a--”” bend that fourth wall, Ed!

-”Celestia is a brony too, except she’s the one in charge of the canon. This whole situation seemed like a comedy, in the classical sense.” Brony Celestia. Also, the fic is a comedy fic, and ALSO, classical comedies were stories were the gods were directly involved, and with Celestia in the story, that makes this a double joke. (You are all free to worship me at any time now.)

-”was trying to hook her up with her abacus.” reference to Progress, also parody on how goddamn popular that whole “abacus” fanon is. Seriously, it was clever, but you don’t need to have it in EVERY Luna story!

-”“Oh, come on. I could fix it. You should have seen last time!”” Trollestia reference.

-”“Hey, I might be joking! Look, can we skip the incredulous whining part? You probably didn’t have anything more interesting going on. Lighten up, let’s talk. So, wouldn’t Rainbowjack be the best thing ever?” Celestia being dismissive, also brony Celestia.

-”“...I prefer Dashiepie.”” Shipping reference.

Imposition: Epilogue

-”Author’s notes:” The whole story is actually notes by the author, and the authors notes are part of the story. This, like everything else, means the joke’s on you.

-”“Because: This isn’t a tv show. It’s a fanfi-” Ed ends this fanfic by explicitly breaking the fourth wall, causing implosion of the universe. (He’s ok, though!)

-”I will not let the character of the fic escape into the author’s notes. (Only in the parentheses.) “ (Ed actually does escape into the parentheses!)

-Infinite recursion is funny because infinite recursion is funny because-----

google docs chat is for coltcuddlers

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