Merry Christmas & A Little Present · 7:26pm Dec 25th, 2012
Hope you guys are all having one helluva good Christmas. Even if you don't celebrate it, I still hope you're having a good day. As for me? Never better. Good ol' S.C gave me the perfect gift today: no more writer's block! Yes, I am back in the game, baby! Spent five hours last night writing my ass off, and spent the last two hours writing some more. 'Writing what?', you may be wondering. Well, for those of you who read my previous blog post, you may recall that I mentioned that I began two new projects along with Live by the Creed. One of those was a murder mystery that I've been bouncing around in my head for a few weeks now. Well, have a little taste of what to expect when this bad boy gets up and running.
It was about as dark a night as you’d come to expect in a place like Manehattan. During the day or when the streetlights were on, it was fine, but once night rolled around and those lamps shut off, a pony’s chances of knowing where they were going dropped all the way down from slim to zilch. Still, that didn’t stop a few ponies from staying out and about just to indulge themselves with a little liquid courage.
It’s actually kinda funny; when Princess Luna hoped that more ponies would stay awake to enjoy her night, she probably didn’t expect them to use it as a way to get their fill on hard cider without having to worry about getting judged by society.
Case in point, a group of mares stumbling out of a bar with the grace of a drugged-up elephant. They were no doubt giggling and talking about the cute stallions next door, how they wanted to ride the bartender’s purple python, or whatever else mares talked about when they had enough alcohol swirling around in their guts to make even the most shameless drunkard look like a lightweight tosspot. Seriously, a pony could probably get a buzz just from getting a whiff of these ladies.
Now, knowing how most ponies get when their hammered to the floor, these mares didn’t have the slightest clue where they were going. Coupled with the fact that the streets were darker than the depths of Nightmare Moon’s flank, and you’ve got yourself a situation that can end in a hundred ways, none of them very good, and most involving a few bodybags.
Now, it didn’t take a genius to know that nothing good was waiting for these girls tonight. In fact, the best possible solution would’ve been to just pass out in the closest gutter and let the morning dew take care of the inevitable hangover. But no, they decided that the best thing to do would be to split up and find their own ways home. Drunks were smart like that. Even better, one of them, presumably the most hammered of the bunch, decided to cut through a dark alley. Alone.
Again, drunks were smart like that.
With all of these murder mystery novels out and about, you’d think that even the most mentally handicapped bastard would know that cutting through a dark, isolated alley was an invitation for all sorts of nasty things. But no. Ponies were still drawn to it like multi-colored moths to the flame. As for this particular damsel in distress, she was about to regret her decision in the next five minutes, give or take. Classic scenario.
Manehattan’s alleys weren’t exactly known for being the safest places in Equestria. Or the cleanest. Or brightest. In fact, a Manehattan alley was about as appealing as the swamps in the Everfree. So when this dame strolled in without a care in the world, she was just asking for trouble. Wasn’t even a unicorn, so she couldn’t light her way. May as well have been blind.
Unfortunately, thanks to her drunken stupor, she couldn’t hear the hoofbeats approaching from behind. She just kept laughing to herself as if there was something funny to keep laughing at. All the while, for every stumbling step she took down the dark, moist, grimy road, her secret admirer got five steps closer.
At some point, he whipped out something, and it wasn’t a bouquet of flowers or… any other type of extremity. Heh.
In retrospect, maybe it was best that she was too hammered to know her tail from her flank. She probably didn’t even register the pain as the knife slit clean across her throat. She didn’t scream, didn’t flinch. Hay, she kept on walking for a few seconds, leaving a red trail on the ground behind her. She probably didn’t even realize what happened, but that didn’t do much to stop her neck from imitating a fountain.
Finally, whether it was because of the small ocean of booze in her gut or the fact that over a quarter of her blood was on the ground, the poor mare just dropped. Not much longer after that, save for a few post-death twitches, her body went limp, lifeless, and motionless. Another pretty face to add to the obituary.
As for her killer? He bailed long before anypony could catch a whiff of what happened. A dead body left to rot in an alley in the wee hours of the night?
Again, classic.
----
Now, where was I during this little case of midnight madness? Well, where would you expect to find a stallion with nothing to lose and without a care in the world? Passed out in bed with an empty cider mug in hoof? Well, that’s almost right.
I was passed out on the floor next to my bed with an empty cider mug in hoof. Not like I’d be able to tell the difference. I could’ve been sleeping on a bed of spikes and I would’ve been out like a light, and trust me, being able to sleep at all in this city was something to be proud of.
Considering all the hustle and bustle a city like Manehattan gets on a regular basis, nothing short of cutting their ears off would give most ponies some peace. I, on the other hoof, was one of the guys who found their peace at the bottom of a mug.
If it wasn’t made clear by now, I was what you’d call a textbook boozer. The type of stallion who could inebriate a foal just by breathing on them. It’s probably why parents kept their kids away from me. I used to just describe my coat as brown, but it didn’t take very long before that turned into ‘whatever color apple cider is’. If some random punk on the street stabbed me, they’d end up spilling more cider on the ground than blood. It helped me sleep, it put me at ease. Now, if it actually made the saps outside keep their yaps shut, it’d be a match made in heaven.
Unfortunately, what used to be a peaceful night–well, about as peaceful as my nights could get anyway–was taken away from me when some random mare screamed in the middle of the night. At least, I assumed it was a mare. But if that was a stallion squealing like that, then it was high time somepony helped his balls drop. With pliers, if it was necessary.
Now, I’ve generally got two big reasons why I hate waking up in the middle of the night. First reason, nopony likes being woken up in the middle of the night. Second reason, the kind of hangovers I got made red-hot knives going into your skull seem like acupuncture. Tonight wasn’t very different.
Even though I was awake, I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I didn’t even move. Why bother? Screams in Manehattan weren’t exactly a rarity. Sometimes it was for bad stuff, yeah, but then again, the ponies here would cream themselves if they found a bit on the ground.
It would’ve been simpler to just stay on the floor and brush it off as some attention-craving dame pining for some attention. Unfortunately, what I though was a good idea and what my conscience thought was a good idea had a funny habit of coming to blows with each other. Thinking back on it, it didn’t exactly sound like she won the lottery. No, that scream was more along the lines of ‘I just walked in on a murder scene, and just wet myself’. Well, I wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon with that possible scenario dancing around in my head like one of those scantly-clad dancers back at Las Pegasus.
I finally mustered up the will to crack my opens. Thank the big guys up above that I had my lights off. That would’ve been a rude awakening, let me tell you. Would’ve been like having front row seats to stare at the sun. Now that I was at least half-awake, I was able to do the usual check-up to see how my body scolded me on this particular morning.
Looking out at the moon felt like staring into the sun. Head was banging like there was a percussion concert implanted in my skull. Weird taste like somepony used my mouth as a personal lavatory. And the nausea. Dry heaves galore were what those first few minutes of consciences were. So, maybe I went a little overboard. Still, there wasn’t a goat in my bed this time, so I didn’t go too overboard.
Goat or not, I didn’t get up at one in the morning to watch the flowers bloom. Some random pony out there was either in trouble, saw trouble, or was the trouble, it didn’t really matter; the point was, I wasn’t going to do much good sitting in a puddle of my own intoxicated sweat. Besides, maybe some of that cool, early morning air would help get rid of the damn migraine.
Once I was able to stay up on my hooves for more than five seconds, I used a bit of magic to throw on my overcoat before making a beeline for the door. I made sure to grab my badge, too. And the fedora. Couldn’t forget the fedora.
----
Now, I gotta admit, by the time I was out the front door, I didn’t have a clue where I was going. Manehattan was about as dense as a city could get, and just as large, too. My sense of navigation wasn’t exactly the best either, and that was when I was clear-headed. Add on the extra headache from a hard night out, and I may as well have been running blind. All I really knew was that the commotion came from… somewhere.
“Somepony call the police!”
Like I said, the commotion was coming from somewhere, and that ‘somewhere’ was about three blocks down the street. I broke out into the fastest walk I could towards the noise. What? You expected me to run? I was lucky to be able to move at all without keeling over in a vomiting fit. I was already gonna show up at the crime scene smelling like cheap whiskey and disappointment; I didn’t need to add vomit to the list.
As I got closer to the scene, I couldn’t help but notice other ponies around me heading in the same direction. Figures. These Manehattan folk were attracted to trouble like vultures to a rotting carcass. I already had enough of a headache, the last thing I needed was an audience.
There was a saying in this city that I remembered hearing from time to time. It went something like, ‘One pony’s tragedy was another pony’s entertainment’. Truer words were never spoken. For Pete’s sake, I even heard a few asking each other ‘who bit it this time?’ I swear, if I didn’t get this done as quickly as possible, there was a very good chance I was gonna end up decking some poor slob right in his sorry, long face.
It didn’t take much longer before I caught sight of a crowd gathered around the entrance to an alley. It was always an alley, wasn’t it? Anyway, there was definitely something in there that caught everypony’s attention, I just had to break through the ranks and find out what it was. It didn’t look like any blues showed up, so that was a nice, little bonus.
I started making my way through the crowd, gently shoving ponies out of my way. Some didn’t take too kindly to it, but trust me, I could’ve been a lot rougher if I wanted to. They didn’t say a stallion had ‘beer muscles’ because it sounds cool… because it didn’t.
As soon as I broke through the crowd, I saw exactly what all the hubbub was about, and wasn’t exactly a pretty sight.
Some poor mare, probably not even half my age, was lying dead in a pool of her own blood. I heard a bunch of other ponies whispering and gasping behind me, but i really didn’t have much in the way of vocal expression. When you’ve been in this line of business for as long as me, you start to get desensitized. Still, something about this felt… different.
Maybe it was the booze talking, but this felt kind of artful in a sick sort of way. The body wasn’t mangled or degraded in any way. She looked peaceful. I mean, it looked like even Luna herself chipped in to help beautify the scene; the moon up above shone down in a way that put the girl in a natural spotlight. If she was the type looking for her fifteen minutes of fame, then she finally got it.
“Um, pardon me. Excuse me. Coming through, watch out.”
There was some more commotion coming from the crowd as another pony made her way through to the scene. Another blue. Fantastic. At least I managed to get a few minutes of peace before they came rolling around.
Turning around, I saw just what I expected. A purple unicorn donning the blue garbs of ‘Manehattan’s finest’ as they liked to be called. Pfft. What a bunch of horseapples that was. I could probably count on my hooves the number of officers who actually gave this job anything resembling a damn. The rest just used the title and badge to get an easy one-nighter with the mare–or stallion–of their choice.
This one, at least, seemed to be a bit different. The way she looked, the way she walked, it just screamed ‘rookie’. Her uniform was cleaned, pressed, the works. Geez, she even had her mane done up in a bun and tucked nice and cozy underneath her police cap. Yep, definitely a newcomer. Well, there wouldn’t have been much point in leaving a bad first impression, so I put on as good an attitude as a sleep-deprived drunk could muster.
“Took you blues long enough to show up.” What? That was the best I could do? It could’ve been a lot worse, trust me.
As expected, she didn’t exactly take that greeting with a smile. “Um, thanks? Who are you, exactly?”
I just threw her my badge as I kept my eyes on the crime scene. I was starting to get into my zone, and I didn’t want to break that concentration.
I didn’t hear it clatter against the ground, so I could only assume that she caught it. If that was the case, then I could imagine that she was making a funny, confused face as she tried to figure out if the name on the badge was real or not. That happened a lot, especially with the rookies.
Finally, she got enough of her senses back to speak. “Detective… Hip Flask?”
“Yep.” I still didn’t look back at her, but I imagined she kept looking between me and the badge. Even if I was pulling her leg, it didn’t look like she was going to call me out on it.
“What kind of parents name their foal Hip Flask?”
“The kind who give a bottle of whiskey the same care and attention as a priceless gem.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” I had to give her credit. She knew when to drop a subject, not like everypony else in this city who try to get my entire life story just because I said hello. “What about you?”
“Hmm?”
“Your name, kid.”
“Oh, right. I’m Twilight Sparkle.”
It's amazing what a guy can write when he's deprived of sleep, isn't it? Anyway, hoped you liked it. Enjoy the rest of your Christmas, have a happy New Year, all that jazz, and I guess I'll see you guys later.
Is there a rule against posting story excerpts in your blog posts? I can't recall ever seeing one before.
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No, there isn't. As it goes blog posts are fairly free. You're not exactly going to get moderated here anyway.
Very nice to see your writers block is gone. Merry Christmas to you!
Hooray no more writers block
now post this and I will be happy 
This looks like it shall be AMAZING!
THIS SOUNDS REALLY REALLY REALLY GOOD!!!!!!!! I can't wait for you to get it up and running!! Does it by any chance have a title?