"AIVEN, AIVEN! You've gotta hear this! It's so epic! You won't believe what I found!"
Aiven jittered around, removing his headphones, and scanned the premises, only to find Marwin, his five-month-old Shetland pony, bouncing off the walls.
"Marwin, please. I've been listening to Butterfly by BTS on repeat for 97 decades. You're going to interrupt the flow. What could you possibly want?"
"Marwin, no, I'm sorry," Aiven slid his Twinkie fingers through his wavy pink hair, which turned into a flamingo floatie in response, then molded itself into a yoga ball with secret ursine snouts.
The rich depth of feeling in Aiven's eyes was apparent, the feeling of regret, as he felt bad for the way he spoke with Marwin.
"Poopadoopascoop! I knew you wouldn't turn down an adventure, you and your BO!"
"Hey! BO? You know I showered this morning, Marwin! I couldn't wait. How could I resist my brand-new penguin flipper drumstick nibbling rhinoceros bath bomb with star dust in it? Freaking star dust, ponyboy!"
"It sure is beautiful," Marwin neighed, "but you know what's even more beautiful?" He fluttered his eyelashes, which seemed to whisper to Aiven.
"They're saying something," Aiven's entrancement grew, as his eyes fixated deeply onto Marwin's lashes, now growing into thick, luscious caviar beards filled with black beans.
"You don't say, Sherlock. They seem to be detaching from my body. Welp," Marwin puffed some mane out of his nostrils, "happens all the time."
"WOAH, WHAT'S THAT?!" Marwin crapulenced.
"Ohhh... the erm, the yoga ball. I was going to hide that from you, and you distracted me, I should be honest, though. You're so adorable, all three feet of you... Maybe if I had three feet instead of two and I put them together they'd turn into a pony and you could finally find a partner and have kids... Although, you're not a goat so..."
"AIVEN, SNAP OUT OF IT!" Marwin hubbubed, "That ball is a person! I mean, a urinal. AN URSIN!"
"Relax, Mar! Do some yoga," Aiven josharooed.
"Well... I suppose it is kinda cu- AHHHHHHHHHHH! Let go, let go of my mane! Aiven just brushed it wish his sandy spectacle glass horn!" Marwin pulpafooed at the yoga ball, suctioning its snout onto his mane.
As the tears in Marwin's eyes grew, his lashes continued to detach and come together to form basset hound leeches.
"URSINE! URSINE!" The leeches gobbled unanimously. They were attracted to the yoga ball, now gaping open its mouth, as the bear-crouching old men in its intestine began to show themselves, hot gluing the fur to their leg hair.
"It's not even a real ursin," Marwin leaf-blowered.
"Yeah, it's not," Aiven sighed.
"It's okay, buddy!" Marwin galloped over, licking Aiven's ears with his trombone tongue.
"I was going to tell you about my idea! Remember? The one I sorta never got around to ralphing because of the random creatures being birthed right here, in your scalp of a bedroom? Where you kept blasting k-pop? Don't think I can't hear it just because it's in your headphones, sweetie pie."
"You're such an adorable horse," Aiven huffed, as the leech eyelashes had now covered the yoga ball like a fungus and used their antennas to kick off the old men.
/Ignoring them, Marwin Yodaed, "Look up, up, up, and away, well... To your right."
"Yeah, I don't see much," Aiven looped, "just the ceiling, fire alarm, that one egg donor you mailed in, your litterbox, a janitor's fifth kazoo, uhh... An air vent, a fractured toena—
"YES! THERE IT IS, AIVEN! THE TREASURE, YOU'VE SPOTTED IT, MY FRIEND." Marwin's eyes began to flow like the stars of a billion galaxies had joined forces inside his eyeballs, like a sea of army bombs at a BTS concert, like a jellyfish who devoured a thousand flashlights.
"What? The fractured toenails with barbarian sauce in their -
"NO! Not those, those are bogus. I'm talking about the air vent, you goon. That beautiful air vent, staring right back at us with its shmancy smize."
"It is pretty AIRresistible," Aiven levitated.
"Yes! You're seeing it, honey buns. Dayum, you really are a FiNe SiTe! Rumor has it that if an INFP named Aiven and his trusty steed, Marwin, embark on the journey of a lifetime by climbing into it and exploring all of its fissures and crevices, its nooks and crannies, they can discover a lifetime supply of over 200 flavors of ice cream."
"What?" Aiven chuckled, "Mar, firstly, you're not a 'trusty steed'; you're a mini pony. And I love you for that! I mean, okay, you are trusty, because I trust you, and," Aiven flushed out a chocolate snowflake, "and uh, well... Okay. That sounds like one of the most promising, invigorating missions yet! I'm in," Aiven placed his hand onto Marwin's hoof, as the two of them performed their infamous VICTORY SCREEEEEECH before preparing to climb up the vents.
Before you could say waitithinkijustburpedoutasmallcrocodileormaybeaholisticvocalcoach, the ursin had evolved into what Marwin liked to call "daddy's wet Hogwarts cheeks."
"Alright, cool. So, the yoga-ball ursin beard thingamajig totally just transformed into some slimy Snape with clapped cheeks," Aiven shuddered, "but on the bright side, they're not as bad as... Ferbicula's cheeks."
"Perfect, that means it'll stay here and jiggle around, it won't interrupt us on our mission, right?" Marwin jingled.
"Yeah! We need a ladder, Mar, or some kind of trampoline, stepping stool, I can climb on the table and..."
"None of that," Marwin fringed, "sit on me."
"You're so tiny, though!" Suddenly, Aiven's face embodied the 🥺 emoji, as he reached out to pet his dearest companion.
"I'm not that small. I can still carry you! Stop being all cutesy before I melt!"
"Okay, okay," Marwin slid, "Wait, look up there!"
Marwin tilted his colossal pantry eyeballs to the air vent which the two were romanticizing just a few seconds ago, only to find aquamarine ice cream puddles, along with a hint of stale fire salmon popsicles, firebreathing out of the vent.
"They're melting! There could be something like..." Aiven stopped in his tracks and constructed an oily bush creator with his tongue in response to the sight whirling and twirling, at this point, pirouetting in front of him.
"The ursine," Marwin bellowed. Suddenly, he turned his muzzle into a Donkey Kong-shaped volleyball net and, like a peashooter, launched a billion seashell peccaries at the ursine, which pierced through its innocent layer of cheekbone mesh, causing more old men, these bufferoos more sarcastic than the other.
"Huh, I guess that came straight from the horse's mouth."
The ice cream was now extinguished by Marwin's forceful regurgitations, which Aiven was quite impressed by.
"That was incredible, Marwin!" His smile overtook the rest of his face, as now, not even Ronald McDonald could outdo Aiven's joyfulness.
"I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," Marwin declared, as the once fired-up ice cream had transported itself into a lopsided Marwin's back hoof.
"What do ya say I join ya?" the old man yogurted. "The name's Jeff. Not like that dead vine, I'm Jeff the Chef. I can make anything you want out of the creamy ice over there; you name it, I tame it."
"A carousel which exclusively plays Korean pop music with a monitor to watch any concert of your choice on each pole would be nice, and maybe instead of horses you could have..."
"Excuse me," Marwin placed his otherworldly hoof onto Aiven's mouth. "Horses are the finest of animals, thank you very much."
"FiNest? You're not even an INFP, Marwin! You're an ESFJ!"
"Sooo? At least I'm potty trained and don't get FeSis all over the place."
"You're witty," Jeff cockadoodled, "I like you, horse. Say... Have you ever watched Bojack Horseman? You're a wee fella, but I guarantee, you would fit in perfectly."
"Marwin, the ice cream! It's being passed on from your hooves to my mouth! I taste it, but where is it?"
"Wait, you taste it? Are you alright? Woah, that's pretty neat. I guess sometimes, the sweetest things in life are invisible!"
