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((I have no idea how to write this, so it might suck...)
Teepee Link

Soq involved:




(I should probably get him recerted eventually)

Birthday Marzipan was having a horrible day. Everyday was a horrible day. He was the most miserable little pony in existence.

His father, Tiggs, the Birthday Carebear, was in charge of celebrating all the new births in the area. He tended to drag BM with him. BM hated birthdays. He hated all the singing and happiness and cake... okay, maybe he liked the cake.

And so he sat under his usual tree, wishing that he had never been born so he would never had to have to sing to anyone. He was a grandfather now, one of his two girls had given birth to three little bundles of joy. His father was ecstatic, and sang about it non-stop. In a little napsack, Tiggs carried around painted pictures of his entire family to show off. BM hated this also.

Softly sobbing, BM sang the song that he hated most, Happy Birthday.

Between his tears, he caught a glimpse of trouble on four paws coming his way. He kept his eyes focused on the ground, and called out to the stalking form, "If you're going to eat me, Walker, at least end my miserable life quickly. If my death is as horrible as everything else, I'll be upset."

BM looked into the eyes of the larger horse, and snorted. "You're the top of the food chain. I don't really have a chance. I've never had a chance at anything. My dad is this overly happy fella. He sings all the time. All. The. Time. I can't take it anymore. My daughter's don't even visit anymore; they say I'm too depressing. Can you blame them for not wanting to see me like this?" He motioned with his front legs at his sulking form.

"You don't need to know all this, you don't. But if you're going to kill me, I'm going to give you my last confession. Someone has to hear it. It might as well be you. Consider it a fair trade. I get to be your dinner, but you have to hear me out first."

There was the sudden realization that this skinwalker may just be playing games with him. BM didn't care though. Honestly, it felt good to have someone to listen to his problems. He talked about them all the time, but no one ever took the time to hear what he had to say.

If this guy wasn't going to kill him, BM might actually like him.

He went on with his litany of woe, "On top of all of this, my mate totally hit it and quit it. I haven't seen her since my daughters came out of their baskets. You know what that's like? I thought I loved her. I really thought that we were going to be together forever. Looks like forever is about two weeks."

BM snorted again. It was his tell when he was nervous, and he started to start back into that depressing sob. "I'm so alone. There's no one that will care that you eat me. I'll be a meal, and then done. Bam. That's it. That's my fate in life. How pathetic is that?"

He wailed a long cry. He had been carrying around these feelings of uselessness for so long, and this was his last chance to get it all out. BM didn't care that someone was watching. ******** him. He could see his pain. Let him know that what he was about to do him was not worse than what he'd been doing to himself for his whole life.

BM flinched at the feeling of the purewalker warping a leg around him. Was he drawing him in to finish him off now? So many thoughts raced though his head. He thought about his miserable, sad, pathetic life.

His sob became a soft whimper, and he looked up at his demise. BM was confused by the look this son of a b***h was giving him. That wasn't the look of someone who's going to eat you for dinner. That was the look a man gives a woman before getting down.

He suddenly didn't know which was worse.

Stumbling with his words, he tired to capitalize on the situation, "T-t-thank you for listening. I'm Birthday Marzipan, but you can call me BM for short. I know, it's an unfortunate nickname. It's better than the alternative though."

And the horse who thought "Birthday Marzipan" was a worse name than one that implied "Bowel Movement", gave his best smile. His teeth chattered a bit, but he hoped it was enough.

'Comfortable' wasn't the word that BM would have used to describe how he was feeling. Going to meet with this skinwalker's herd made him feel like a meal to go.

Although it would be dangerous, BM wasn't completely turned off to the thought. He liked the idea of getting some love and attention, even if it was coming from a strange place. Could he grow feelings for this monster the way he grew feelings for his mate, Salcia?

With time, maybe. But who knew how much time he had. If he said 'no', there was a good chance his time would be up right here. At this point, he was a dead pony walking. Why not give it a shot.

"Milo... buddy... pal, I think I'll take you up on that. There's nothing left for me here anyway."

BM shifted awkwardly away. "Hey now Milo," he stammered, "don't want to take it too fast. What kind of guy do you think I am to get so romantic on the first date?" He snorted yet again.

Okay. He could do this. Sure the skinwalker was looking at him with this mix of food and love in his eyes. But at least if he was shacking up with the biggest bad on the block, he'd be safe and secure. If he was going to literally be sleeping with the enemy, at least he was going to get something out of it. And he had to admit that Milo was kind of cute... well, as cute as something that can slice your throat at any moment can be.