Note: I just want to make it clear that I do not share religious beliefs with the Pink Pony of Doom. Thank you.

I woke up at 3 am. It was very dark out, and everything was quiet, so I didn’t see why I was awake. The only light in the room was the greasy blare of the nightlight against the far wall. In its light I saw something chilling. The closet door was open. I had closed it, and I knew no one would dare oppose the Death Penalty for Entering sign, especially not at 3 am. Curious and mystified, I peeked into the closet. The pony bag was empty.

What could I do? If I woke someone up they would think I’m crazy, and calling the police was just dumb. Maybe I was dreaming. No. I can always tell if I’m dreaming or not. Not having anything better to do, I walked out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air. I was just feeling sleepy again when a voice whispered. “Down here!”

I looked to the ground and was not surprised to see a life-size plastic pony prancing about on the grass. “We need your help!” she hissed.

“With what?” I asked.

“Come down here and see for yourself!”

I quickly got dressed and ran outside. It was creepy being up so early, but now was not a time to chicken out. I walked up to the pony and mounted. She took off, running faster than any normal horse could. By the time we stopped, my face and hands were numb from the wind. But I couldn’t think about that. I had just stepped into a war zone.

The ground was on fire. I looked around for the source and saw three of my old toy dragons spouting flame. Actually, all of my toys were there, from the Beanie Babies to the wind-up monkeys. I squinted against the flames to see what they were attacking. “Oh my God!” I yelled.

Silhouetted against the moon was the figure of a fifty-foot tall pony, her hoof-less feet pounding like war-drums, her ground-length mane swinging like coils of whips. The heart-shape on her butt was surrounded in fire. “That,” said my pony curtly. “Is the Pink Pony of Doom.”

I nodded dumbly and looked to see where we were. Oh great. We were in the downtown park. I could see the roofs of the tall buildings over the trees, the neon signs flashing in the windows. I had to get this fire out or else the city would sue me. A giant squirt-gun was lying a few feet away from me. I lunged for it and sprayed it all over the park until the fire was out. Okay, a few ruined trees, but no real damage.

Not yet at least. The Pink Pony of Doom was lumbering about, smashing the rose bushes. My eyes widened as it left the park and headed for the city. I ran after it, closely followed by all my toys. We must have made some sight—a girl with a horde of plastic and plush chasing her, and they were all chasing some mutant toy come to life.

The Pink Pony was playing hopscotch in a parking lot. I winced at the crush of each car, and actually moaned in pity for a brand new Corvette. “There’s gonna be lots of unhappy people tonight,” I told my pony.

“Well, aren’t you going to do anything?”

“What can I do?” I asked. “Give it a haircut?”

“You have to think of something!” she snorted impatiently. “We always beat the evil dragons when you played with us. Now we can beat the Pink Pony of Doom!”

“You’re right,” I said, clenching my fists. “I’ll think of something. Just…um…give me a second.”

“You better hurry. Mr. Potato Head has already given up all his parts as cannonballs.”

Suddenly I had an idea. “Okay, I know what to do. Bring me my devil horse and I’ll explain all the rest as we go.”

In a little bit I was sitting on the hard iron saddle of my life-sized underworld stallion. He was just as horrific in real life as he was a figure, if not more. “Charge!” I cried, and he took flight, his hooves drawing sparks from the asphalt street. We reached the Pink Pony, who was now trying to break into Starbuck’s for a sip of coffee. By now half the city was awake and had gathered to see what all the mayhem was about.

I guided my mount up to the corrupted creation and yelled, “Hey you!”

The Pink Pony of Doom stupidly looked down at me, blinking with three thick eyelashes. “Yeah, you! Why are you destroying everything?”

“Me want coffee,” it said.

“I know you want coffee. Now why are you doing this?”

It thought a moment and said, “Coffee yummy.”

I was about to scream in pure frustration, but jammed my hands in my pockets instead. My fingers brushed the crinkly plastic wrapper of a coffee-flavored lozenge. I pulled it out triumphantly, brandishing it above my head like King Arthur would Excalibur. “I’ve got coffee!” I taunted, waving it around. The Pink Pony’s dull blue eyes followed it hungrily. “And I’ll give it to you if you can answer a few questions.”

“Me answer!” she cried eagerly, sitting down on a Toyota and making the alarm go off.

“Okay, good. So, why are you destroying the city?”

“Not destroy,” she corrected me, shaking her head. “I just get rid of polluting cars and yucky buildings run on electricity. Then I make Pony Land, make everybody love everybody. It will be the perfect world. Skies will always be sunny. No wars. No divorces. No McDonald’s. No deforestation. Just happiness.”

I was now acutely aware of a news-chopper hovering over me and shining a bright spotlight in my face while capturing footage that would be played on TV for weeks. Shading my eyes, I yelled up at the Pink Pony of Doom, “You can’t do this! You see, if there wasn’t a little evil in the world, we wouldn’t appreciate good. Deforestation, pollution—those things are all okay. Without them, people couldn’t stand up for what they believe in, you know what I mean? Sure, it might be cool living in the perfect world for a year or two, but there would be no adventure in life. There’d be nothing to insult and nothing to wreck. BOORRRING! And as for that “no rain” thing you got goin’ on, that’s just dumb. I mean, if there was no rain, this whole world would be, like, a desert! Dude, do you get what I’m saying!”

“COFFEE!”

Pony’s heads are hollow, so you can squish them in. That just proves the great stupid beast’s behavior. “Fine, you can have the coffee!” I yelled, tossing the lozenge up to her. She swallowed it and said, “More coffee!”

I was beginning to feel dizzy with all the lights and noise. People were yelling from balconies, and practically all the lights in the city were on. Everything was so hot and sticky. I gagged, but not from that. I was washed in warm pink light that twinkled with glittery hearts. A lighthearted, happy feeling entered my heart and made it beat faster. I had never been so joyful in my whole life, and yet a little voice in the back of my head was screaming at me. But it was so hard to listen. I just wanted to curl up in this happy feeling and love everybody. The Pink Pony of Doom, who was standing above me, was no longer a stupid, narrow-minded beast, but rather a sort of angel.

I started to run to her, my arms held out. She whinnied a welcome. I fell into her silky curls, which held me up and rocked me like the sea. Then she was singing a lullaby. It was nice. Suddenly, a horrible screech made me look up. I saw my beautiful devil horse, nostrils burning, iron hooves tearing up the sky. Something clicked, and everything was clear again. “Evil triumphs over good!” I yelled, and everyone in town yelled, “Hurrah!”

Then they were all muttering amongst themselves. “Let’s go cut down some trees, Bob.” “Anybody up for a murder?” “Hey, I got a can of oil. Let’s dump it in the lake.” “I hate you!” “I’m filing for a divorce!” And each of these angry shouts was like music to my ears.

The Pink Pony of Doom was rolling on the ground in agony, moaning. “You don’t care! You are all evil people! You don’t want my gift! Fine, then, but you’ll regret it!” Then, with a loud pop and a burst of pink dust, all that was left of the Pink Pony of Doom was a small plastic toy, smiling an all-knowing grin under painted lashes. I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. Well, she had learned her lesson.

I turned to the people in town. “Hey, guys! You can stop it now! There will always be evil in the world, but you don’t have to cause more!”

“We don’t?” asked the owner of an all-night pub. He was bald and had a large wedge of a mustache.

“No!” I cried in exasperation. “We should try to cause as much good as we can.”

“But you just said—“

“No, I mean—“

“Don’t argue with him,” said my pony from over my shoulder. Then she smiled and said, “You won’t win. Let them figure it out for themselves.”

That’s what happened that night. But I can’t say the downfall of the Pink Pony was the end. The news reporters whisked me away to the TV station for an agonizingly long interview that they could post on channel 5 for the whole world to see. They offered me coffee, but I politely declined. Mom, upon hearing the events of the night, came to pick me up at the TV station at 6:30 am. I slept in the car on the way back home.

In the morning I took a shower and got dressed as if nothing unusual had happened. The family had a cheerful breakfast over the newspaper, on which there was a picture of me ranting and raving at the giant pony. My little sister could not fully understand what was happening; she searched the house high and low for her pony.

What about the Pink Pony of Doom? Well, we put her in the remains of her box and drove to Target after breakfast. At the Customer Return desk, we simply told the clerk we had found her unsatisfactory. Then we did a little bit of shopping. My little sister wanted to buy another pony, but this time Mom firmly refused. Later, as she looked at Barbies, I stood at the end of the aisle, looking at the red and white circles and advertising bulldogs. I wouldn’t be hypnotized this time. I knew what happened to customers that were sucked in.

We went home, and I played with my good ponies and other toys that had turned back to normal. And we all lived happily ever after, doing lots of good for the world.

Oh, by the way, the gangster pony came out the next year in a black box with a sticker that said: YOU CAN’T LOVE EM’ ALL.

THE END