I used to be A "Brony." For awhile, it was a joke. I'd show up to the meetings with a tape recorder taped to the underside of my fedora (which I'd tuck in my Jack Bauer satchel during transit). After the meetings, I'd report back to my friends who usually had a big plate of Nachos With Jalapeño and Beef. They'd lean in to my story as I leaned over my food, and we'd giggle like school girls, tortilla spraying out of my mouth with every cackle like a machine gun.
One day, it stopped. Don't know if I forgot to bring the recorder or if there emotional drug had slipped into my veins. One thing was for sure, a damsel was on my desk after the meeting, cross-legged, and showing me her deviant-art page. She needed help.
Nobody was being honest with her, needed me to get down to the bottom of it. Give her a 'critique.' Only thing I could get down to the bottom of was a glass of Sierra Nevada's Torpedo IPA and a hefty mug of Gentleman's Jack.
Once you get the urge to be kind after being bad -- a real bad, trolling Miyamoto fans on /v/ bad -- life takes a spin. My heart was going 80 down the freeway, and her kindness pulled my emotional e-brake. I was doing flips across a two lane road as my friends coo'ed and caw'ed at my turbulence.
Spun out into the haystacks of six person'ed group of understanding kids, lost in the world but still tackled to an elementary school buddy system. I hung out with their crowd for a bit. The first hour was something of the like, boarding on Wrong. My mouth stayed shut, my ears open to their patterns. Assimilate or die.
Why don't they a bourbon?
Need a cig.
45 minutes in and my thumbs are twiddling like a ballerina who just forgot how to pirouette. If my fedora wasn't lost during the escape during the dark, down the pathway between the Math and Education building, I might feel safe. Could down my cowl, wear the mask of one who is a Brony.
Too deep, my voice chirps a sharp, classic one liner that nestles me deep in their core: "Derp."
The match was lit, I took a drag and let the Magic course through my veins.
10 weeks deep and my grades were up. Mom was proud of me. Dad, heh, he was off mowing the neighbors grass. Never had time for me. The gang called me every night to see if I wanted to Get Thai.
That was the thing about Bronies. They loved Thai food. Every two days, after their marketplace sushi supply ran low, they'd give you a call and next thing you know, you're on a huffy, trench coat whipping the air behind you like your lips were moments before the Deep Fried Squid hit the table.
But that's when it started downhill. The group was growing, we were becoming too approachable, too uncommon.
We first caught wind of another Brony gang who would actually meet in a building on campus. Had a whole room reserved for their gatherings, every Thursday at 8:00. After dark, the view of trouble was smack dab in my face but I couldn't seem a damn thing.
Where was the light switch?
The expansion of our gang was fine. Wasn't much, just a few more faces and names to remember, plus one eccentric. Would show up to the meetings with his mane colored after his favorite pony of the week. Asked us to comb it.
We oddly obliged.
The fire was in my veins. Another hit and I was anywhere and anyone. Tie off, Pirate Bay down, nothing to juice me. Hit up a Tinychat, see if anyone was doing a reenactment.
Mom found out.
We had a big idea, "Let's just throw a party. A big one. Put it up on the internet. Reddit. 4chan. Brony only." We didn't know what the consequences would be.
3 dead, a 6 shooter clutched in my hand, the red and blue washing my face every second on the lawn. Rage, depression. Back in the car hurling itself over the highway. Hit 90, enough to my license for a year. She wasn't on my desk anymore, she was on my mind.
Pulled the break, back end lifted up, 4 wheels out now, 2 in the chamber.
Two unaccounted for. Where'd those damn shells game. Fuck, Bowser right behind me. Another hit of the fire before I go out. Catch my air before landing back on Rainbow Road.
It was 1 year and 74 days that I was in the slammer. I would not advise being a Brony.
