>(you)'re walking through some dollar tree because you're surprised just how good some of this cheap crap is
>after acquiring stay-fresh cheese bags you take a stroll down the last isle to the till, its shelves and hangers adorned with cheap electronics that'll break if used for longer than a week and toys of a comparable quality
>and yet your attention is caught by something comparable to a kitten's mewling
>you turn to face what you can see as, and what unquestionably is, an entire selection of live, living, breathing little ponies on display as toys
>not especially making any attempt to break free or call attention to themselves
>more like they're waiting, or wallowing in guilt, or just doing whatever they do to cope with the predicament they're in
>you take stock of the situation before you, pinch your arm to make sure you're not dreaming, look about you to see if anyone else has noticed and yet nothing
>there's even a selection of regular 'ol animals to their right and yet even the more realistically proportioned farmhorses remain as inanimate and plastic as ever
>the most you've gotten out of anyone else was one person giving you the look you'd give a guy who happened to be nervously fidgeting over a box of off-brand little girls toys
>so, you deduce, either you severely underestimated human cruelty
>or the mareschizophrenia has finally reached critical stages
>the worst part is that after dawdling for so long some of them are looking up at you, seemingly as curious of being the object of attention as you are of having found them
>a teeny, tiny unicorn whose face is pressed against the inside of a bag of ponies (who all collectively seemed to be struggling to come anywhere close to comfortable) spoke
>"h-hello mister, would you like to.. umh... do you know any girls that would take us home?"
>the mare's voice was delicate yet weary, while they'd apparently been here long enough to become dejected they at least didn't seem to be dying
>from loose individual ponies in the big pile in the box below to the sealed bags of mares, every item was one dollar
>what do you do? buy one, buy them all? you weren't planning on spending what could look to be over $50 on rescuing mysterious ponies but if you did what then?
>would it really be right to just rescue a few and leave the rest? are you concerned about what's right here?
>is any of this even real? again, nobody else seems to have noticed, is it a box full of plastic tat that needs help here or you
>either way, it's time to choose, lest you break some tiny pony's heart from strategically choosing not to talk with children's toys in public (before purchasing them, at least)

>It occurred to you that they were so smol, you could get more than one... so on instinct you blurted out.
"So are the others your friends?"
>"I-I guess we're all... like... friends" she said in a way that might let you infer that maybe they'd all be better friends if they weren't in such a miserable state of affairs and more things to talk about
>evidently, you've forgone the idea of not looking like a crazy person
>while crazy people are afforded a bit more of a grace period in shops frequented by the homeless and destitute, you might assume you'll get more and more attention the further on you continue having talks with a potential hallucination (as cute as that hallucination might be)
>you look over the wealth of ponies again and take stock.
>the loose ponies in the box and the ones in the flimsy blister packs were certainly mares, long flowing feminine mane with an included brush to brush it with
>the extra small assorted bag of ponies, however, seems to play host to not just mares but a number of stallions too
>granted as they were the stallions among those mares looked especially effete, their frames at least masculine enough that you can pick them out
>while to the untrained eye the ponies could all be dismissed as similar, you can tell on more scrutinous inspection that there's plenty of variety among them, colors aside as they were all pink, purple, blue or rarely white
>and among the stallions you saw everything from soft-faced shy guys and elegant, princely figures
>granted, your scrutiny against the micro ponies can only have earned you more attention from onlookers

>you briefly consider how the herd at home would take the arrival of a veritable Ponyville's worth of new ponies
>you then remember that, at least up until now, they have remained wholly inanimate
>not to discredit the happiness they bring you and, presumably, whatever happiness you bring them as being any less real
>and yet seemingly before you is the genuine article, each of them reacting to your interest in their own way
>you reflect on your actions, consider your options, and all too quickly discern that one way or other you're going to come out of this looking like a weirdo (at least a little)
>depending on how you look at this; it's either free license to do whatever you like or an embarrassing memory that keeps you from going to sleep at night in the making
>you think of what you're going to say, if anything, to the cashier when you bring a trolley full of ponies to the till
>"these are for a party" seems to do the trick in your head
>still ominously vague exactly what kind of party requires their entire stock of ponies and stay fresh cheese bags, but it's not like they're being paid to intimidate customers out of buying things
>then you remember the ponies aren't actually toys, and very much likely have an opinion on this
>you snap out of your excuse-making deliberations to read how they're reacting to you right now
>some are just plain curious, some are scared, some ignore you entirely as they continue to stare blankly into nothingness
>but as a whole, they all look like they'd rather be somewhere better than the cold, indifferent shelves of a shop where they have a fixed value of a single dollar or less
>you don't suppose they're in much of a position to reject being purchased either, but you think you'll at least be polite about it assuming you do

>you suppose, to yourself, that at worst if you are actually going crazy that there have been much more costly ways to let everyone know you need help
>and at best there's a whole lot of ponies here that deserve a better life, and you can be the one to give it to them
>you resolve that you're going to rescue these mares by the power of your credit card, if you're a true mareschizo then you're obligated to
>you tell the eeny weeny mare in the bag "one moment" and return to the entrance of the store to get a shopping cart to fit them all in
>well, actually you could reasonably fit them in two baskets, but as you make your way there you consider you might want to pick up some supplies for your new lodgers too
>a pet bed maybe? something a little more comfortable to make a pile on at least
>do they need to eat? well they certainly don't look to have needed to but who's to say they wouldn't
>a selection of colorful, Lisa Frank-esque stickers catches your notice in the stationery section; you may be able to truly appreciate the subtle but important differences between what the uncultured might call "identical background ponies" but in the absence of unique color designs between them maybe some improvised cutie marks would help you distinguish between them (and cheer them up, of course)
>one way or the other, you will be taking them all home with you

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okay now the magic of the story is that you, the readers, can continue the green because I am evidently tired as fuck and wat to be awake for rewatch stream
To Be Continued?