Don’t you hate when you meet guys like this on the bus? Who insist on butting into your conversations? And then transform into angry ponies?
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You can tell he’s evil because he likes Bon Jovi.
Too many Ponies, with guns in their hands. Too many ponies, in foreign lands.
Oh no! Not death!
Turns out friendship really is magic. Thanks, Satan!
Now that I’ve redrawn this, the climax of this conversation happens on the next page instead.
This story was based on a field trip I had as a child. The only difference is that we weren’t saved by a benevolent pony god, and all died in the crash. Better days.