//------------------------------// // [ARC II] Chapter 31- Spendthriftin' // Story: Building Walls, Burning Bridges // by MonolithiuM //------------------------------// "Money is not the most important thing in the world. Love is. Fortunately, I love money." –Unknown “Out of the hospital, biiiiiiitch!” “Crashin’ at Penchant’s pad, biiiiiiitch!” “Ponyville is kicking ass, biiiiiiitch!” The mare that was staring at me from across the counter didn’t respond to any of my uses of the word ‘bitch’. Smart girl. Or maybe stunned. Fuck it, I don’t care. I dropped an excess of bits onto the counter and took my coffee. The Trottingham players had just arrived today, and I needed every bit of alertness today just to fuck with them. I got up nice and early, snatched that worm, seized the day, carpe’d that motherfucking diem and the whole nine fuckin’ yards. I felt completely unstoppable–getting out of the hospital after being demolished twice in a row would do that–and ready to fuck. And by fuck I meant get up to some fuckery with these cockney-ass Wizarding World bitches. I had never really bothered to read up on the complete history of every town in Equestria, or city rather, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t make shit up on the spot. The kids in the Ponyville class would probably believe it too. “G’mornin’!” And there was one of those crooked-toothed chimney sweeps now! He was a colt, a dull reddish-brown with a tousled orange mane and an inch or two on the other kids around him. That nigga was taller than I was! Well, that’s fuckin’ embarassing, I remember thinking. Actually, you know what, fuck tenses, who gives a shit, right? And punctuation. Grammar to. Aw fuck, that’s too much. Much better. Anyway, I was shorter than this guy, but screw that snot-nosed shithouse, I was gonna talk shit. “For fuck’s sake, what’s that god-awful smell?! It stinks like rotten teeth, soot, and pompous douche-bags!” I yelled as loudly as possible, trying to obnoxiously make my voice bounce off as many solid objects as possible. “That and sub-par cuisine, actually… oh, hey! There you are! Good ‘ay guv’nah!” The colt and his posse flattened their ears to their heads, their polite sensibilities keeping them from exacting justice upon my vile mockery of their language. NOBODY says ‘guv’nah’, at least not while paired with saying ‘good day’ like a fucking downie. I just couldn’t wait for their reaction, and so I stood there and grinned at their shell-shocked faces. “Who’s this monkey-lookin’ spiff spoutin’ gibberish? You wanna banana lil’ guy?” My glare came in full-force, evaporating all the moisture in my face instantaneously. All I wanted at this point was a glass of water, and then to smash the emptied glass into this fuck-stain’s face. One of those fuckers–a brown colt with a cerulean mane–grinned at me like he had just won the lottery with my birthday numbers. “Oh my, looks like he’s a mite rustled, eh boys?” Then that fuck laughed. “Mite! I do crack myself up sometimes! So you’re the scrawny little shite that’s going to be leadin’ your team to the win? Ha! Only thing you could lead ‘em to is the jungle, ya mangy chimp!” I opened my mouth to rebuke him, but somehow, that reddish-brown fuck-stick beat me. “Now now, Crump, let’s not be too harsh on the monkey, he’s prob’ly missin’ his mum and da somethin’ awful, right? Any o’ you blokes got a wastebin and some cloth? We could set ‘im up a comfy surrogate mum and make ‘er smell like mangos and the forest!” Then he looked at me. “Would that make ya feel better?” I was irate, insensate, insane with rage. My body shook so violently that I was melting the cobblestone beneath my feet and heating the air around me enough to cause visual distortion. However, striking an opposing team member before the game had even begun would cause me to be disqualified, and that would probably mean I’d have to do this again another year. I thought I had gotten polite, posh pricks, but instead I got cockney cock-biters. This Championship was going to be my downfall. First I get demolished by a filly and put in the hospital, now I was getting shit-talked by some filthy, poverty-ridden, flea-bitten ponies? There wasn’t anything for me there, so I turned and walked away. The jeering pissed me off enough to toss a brick at super-sonic speeds over their heads. The deafening sound-wave shut them up. Fuckers. In the meantime, I had gotten a few progress letters from Ditzy or Derpy or whatever the fuck you call her. The first was from Flim and Flam. Expressing their gratitude and how I’m infinitely kind and yadda yadda who gives a shit? I hired those fuckers because they’re the only two equines in this country that have even sneezed toward an industrial revolution. This wasn’t out of the kindness of my heart, after all. The other letter was… dense. Sure, I’m pretty smart, a bit above average. Math wasn’t really my strong suite, however, and thus the letter from Fancy Pants had gone way over my head. All the way into the trash. Thankfully he had used plus marks and green ink to indicate rising stock, but not much else. Apparently some investors had become intrigued at the idea of my pens. All I needed now was a marketing campaign. I’d get to it. The last was from both Fleur and Quick; all about working wages and expenses for shipping and handling. Profits and expenditures, once again not my field. Though, thank the good heavenly fucking Lord, Quick had some notes on how to market to ponies. They were all bullshit pussyfoot tactics. I was going for gold, why bother with bronze and silver? We would start hiring within the week, and pens would begin sale three weeks from today. “If today is June fifteenth… or is it May? Where the fuck is that calendar?!” I stomped angrily. I couldn’t even keep a date straight in my head. Christ. We would start making bank soon. I realized then that I actually had no clue what month it actually was. I had been ripped from my planet sometime during the school year, but here it was nearly summertime. Fucking dimension-lag. Besides, I had more important things to do than keep the date down in my brain. Like figure out how to properly fuck with those knobheads. They clearly knew their way around an insult or two and, unfortunately, assault was out of the question. If not for the fact that it would cost us the Championship, then because it was technically illegal. Regardless, I needed to get one up on those tea-sipping sons of bitches. The problem was that they always got a word in before even I had a chance. “Holy shit. That’s fucking it!” My idea wasn’t really my usual style, but in this case it may be better not to say a word at all. “Hella.” \\\|||/// “So who is going to be goalie?” Sweetie asked her gathered teammates. Everypony looked around at one another, and then a pink hoof raised itself into the air. Diamond Tiara, with a determined look on her face, then lowered her hoof. “I’ll do it. Nopony is going to score on us.” Sweetie nodded. She hadn’t expected that, but then again Diamond had lost her Cutie Mark and gained a new outlook on life. She was also very very eager to please the Cutie Mark Crusaders. To a frightening degree, actually. “Diamond! More ice!” Scootaloo’s demand was immediately met by a hoofful of ice cubes dropped delicately in her drink. Lifting her shades from her face, Scootaloo peered into her glass and hummed approvingly. “Good job.” Diamond Tiara nodded happily and went back to serving drinks to the rest of the team. “Hey, uh, don’t you think it’s a little… cramped?” Featherweight’s voice piped up from beside Scootaloo, whom he was pressed against tightly with a blush on his face. For some inane reason, Scootaloo had insisted that the entirety of the team meet up at the Crusader Clubhouse. As such, there were colts and fillies stuffed wall-to-wall inside, and Scootaloo had just happened to wind up squished right up next to the colt that had brought the team victory in the first game. Scootaloo then blushed in turn. “What are you complaining about? There’s plenty of room!” To prove her point she gestured with her hoof holding her drink, and only wound up smashing the glass against Applebloom’s head. “Oh.” As the lemonade dripped from Applebloom’s muzzle, the door to the clubhouse was wrenched open, presenting Mono to the gathered foals. “Whaddup losers? Those buck-toothed bastards just got into town, and I’ll be fucked in the ass if we don’t beat them senseless in this soccer game!” His grin faded as a wall of fluffy pony bodies surged toward him. He easily sidestepped the wave and watched as they all blasted by him, screaming in terror. With a deft movement, Mono plucked Sweetie Belle from the flood and tossed her onto the floor beside him. “So, what have you got for me so far?” he asked of the little unicorn. Sweetie Belle blinked, shook her head, and began to list off positions to Mono. “Archer is center-back–“ “No, she’s aggressive, make her the right forward on account of her wings. While you’re at it, bench featherweight for this one and put Snips as a central mid-fielder. Snails is mentally retarded, so get him at left-forward. He’ll confuse the enemy and left-midfield will take care of the rest. Who’s goalie?” “Diamond Tiara.” “Absolutely not. Applebloom is goalie. Flying objects that cause severe injury are destined to hit her.” At Sweetie’s blank look, Mono rolled his eyes. “The ball will never miss her big, fat head. If the ball never misses her big, fat head, then it will never go into the goal.” “All thanks to Applebloom’s big, fat head.” “Excellent, Sweetie, now you’re getting it. See, this is why I like you: you’re smart. Keep that up and you’ll leave your sister in the dust.” Yes, Mono did know how much dirt meant to Rarity, and thus he meant that statement both literally and figuratively. The small human continued to correct the foals’ previous positions, organizing them to provide maximum effect. “Hey, Mono, when is everypony going to get their pools?” In that moment, thanks to Scootaloo’s offhand comment, Mono was struck with vicious inspiration. \\\|||/// It was quiet in the Ponyville Postal Service Center. With the Championship going on, not many ponies were sending mail, so it came as a surprise to the only pony behind the counter that the doors slammed open, shattering the glass within their frames as they crashed against the wall. A blur of black rushed to the counter and slammed a letter before the pony. “Send this letter faster than physics normally allows you to. I’m talking some beyond-the-veil bending-of-space-and-time shit, fucker.” The tiny human then threw a pony eye-sized diamond into the mailpony’s chest. “Rush. Fucking. Order.” \\\|||/// “Oh,” Fleur exclaimed daintily. The exhausted mailpony, drenched in sweat, lay collapsed on the threshold of the doorway. Saying a quick thanks and slipping the mailpony twenty bits, Fleur moved further inside her home to bring Mono’s message to Fancy Pants. “Dear,” she said, “we’ve gotten a letter from Mono. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already read it.” Her entrance made the dapper stallion smile, and he rose from his pillow seat. “I don’t mind in the slightest, my love. Now, what did the letter read, if I may ask?” “Lend me a bunch of fucking money so that I can build an asinine number of pools to make these dirty Trottingham cunts jealous like the homeless sons of bitches they are. Also, do you wanna go out for lunch tomorrow? There’s this little place in Canterlot’s less wealthy sector and we should totally get some bomb-ass meat platters. I need that shitload of gold ASAP by the way, like, fucking yesterday. Thanks.” “I assume he forced somepony to write it for him?” “Yes, I do.” Neither Fleur nor Fancy made any mention of Fleur’s aggressive use of Mono’s colorful language. Though she would never admit it to Fancy, Fleur did indeed enjoy swearing up a storm. Fuck yeah. “Well, let us place a delivery for Mono Nucleosis. Rush order.” \\\|||/// The Trottingham players spent their time honing their hoofball skills, dribbling and striking against one another to improve their playstyle, as they did this, a commotion from within the town proper began to flare up. Some sort of celebration, cheers and everything. “Don’t you blokes think it’s a little early for ‘em to be celebratin’ anything?” asked one of the players. “There’s still a week to go before the game starts, after all.” This point aroused the suspicion of Crump, the team’s leader, and so in his curiosity he gathered his mates and moved inwards to town. The sounds of cheering were growing ever louder, and as they entered town square, it was obvious why. Hordes of construction ponies with multitudes of equipment and materials went every which way, pairing up with various ponies. On the stage stood the little monkey, grinning and laughing. “Pools! Just as I promised you fuckers, POOLS!” He then reached into his jacket and threw a shower of bits over the crowd. “LOOK AT HOW WEALTHY WE ALL ARE! YAY!” Mono was met with a cheer from the Ponyville citizens. Crump would never admit it, but this frivolous spending had made him incredibly jealous. Crump wasn’t dirt poor, but his family, nor anyone he knew, for that matter, could ever afford a pool. Yet, somehow, that midget monkey just bought a pool for every household in Ponyville. “I AM WEALTHY, OH SO WEALTHY! I’M SO WEALTHY, AND HAPPY, AND COOOOOL! AND I PITY, ANYPONY WHO ISN’T FROM HERE TODAY!” Mono then began to dance around like a ballerina, spinning and laughing along with the other laughing ponies. “LA LA LA-LA, LA LA LA-LA~” Thoroughly miffed, Crump led his jealous band of brothers back to the field to practice some more. “SEE THAT WEALTHY BOY ON THAT STAGE THERE, WHO CAN THAT WELL-OFF BOY BE? SUCH A WEALTHY ASS, SUCH A WEALTHY FACE, SUCH A WEALTHY ACT, SUCH A WEALTHY ME~”