//------------------------------//
// Past, Present, Future 
// Story: The Alleys of Ponyville: Short Stories from the Noireverse 
// by PonyJosiah13 
//------------------------------//

“So what’s this movie called again?” Daring asked, tossing another hooful of popcorn into her mouth and nestling up against Phil’s chest. 

“Twelve Angry Ponies,” Phillip said, laying back watching the projection cast onto the wall before them, observing the black and white gathered ponies arguing over the switchblade stabbed into the table. Their angry shouts overlapped with the faint clicking of the movie projector behind them. 

Daring snorted. “That’s an appropriate title if I ever heard one,” she commented, pulling the blanket up a little higher over them both. 

Phillip reached around her and grasped some of the popcorn from the bowl in Daring’s lap as she lay in between his hind legs. “One of my favorite movies,” he stated. “My father would take me out to the cinema to see a movie every new year's.” He chewed the popcorn. “Popcorn there was shit, though.” 

Daring snorted. “Bet the seats weren’t as comfy, either.” 

“Definitely not,” Phillip said, nuzzling the top of Daring’s head. 

Daring watched the movie in silence for a few moments longer, the surmounting evidence convincing her of the young thestral's innocence more and more by the moment. She gave a quiet sigh and settled into her seat a little more. 

“Something wrong?” Phillip asked. 

“Why would something be wrong?” Daring asked. 

“Because that’s your ‘I’m upset about something’ silence,” Phillip stated. 

Daring let out another quiet snort, drawing a hoof through the bowl of popcorn. “You know me pretty well,” she muttered. 

“We’ve been working together since the Moon of Sun. We’ve saved each other lives. We’ve slept together. I think I bloody well should,” Phillip stated. 

Daring sighed again, shifting in her seat. “I…” She grunted. “I just kinda wish that I had a dad who took me out to movies and stuff,” she mumbled. 

Phillip’s forelegs slowly draped themselves around her stomach, squeezing slightly. The silence, filled with tinny voices and the clicking of the film reel, prompted her to continue. 

“My mom was a piece of shit all the way through,” Daring stated, acid in every syllable. “Drunk in the morning, sleeping off the poppydust by afternoon. She died of a drug overdose back in...'35, I think, when I was around twenty-four.” She snarled. “Fuck her.” 

“And your father?” Phillip asked. 

Daring shrugged. “He was okay, for a while. He got me a library card when he found out I liked reading...got me a couple presents. Once or twice, he took me out for ice cream on my birthday, I think.” She sighed through her nostrils. “But after a while, mom got him under her hoof with the booze and the drugs and the sex, and he...it’s like he forgot I existed. So I ran away, and ran into Sparks, and the Family. And then, all those years later, wound up in prison...” 

The projection became blurred and Daring was about to tell Phil to adjust the focus when she realized her eyes were burning. She quickly wiped her face off with a foreleg. “Didn’t visit. Didn’t write. Never saw him again,” she added. “So fuck him, too.” 

Phillip squeezed her a bit tighter, his breath tickling her ears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Don’t be,” Daring said. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure my parents will be better,” Phillip said. 

“Definitely,” Daring shifted, watching as one of the jurors lunged at Marey Fonda, snarling in hate as the other jurors held him back. 

But Phillip could feel her tensing. “You nervous about meeting them?” he asked. 

“No,” Daring denied. 

His silence spoke volumes. “Okay, a little,” Daring muttered. “I...just really want them to like me…” 

“They will. Trust me,” Phillip whispered. 

“And if they don’t?” she asked. 

He kissed the tip of her left ear and squeezed her a bit tighter. "You're my family now. They have to like you. Or, at least, tolerate you." Both ponies giggled. 

Daring glanced at Phillip’s watch. “Hey, look at that. It’s been 1950 for seven minutes.” 

“Well, crikey,” Phillip said and kissed her on the head. “Happy New Year, Daring.” 

She turned around, being careful not to drop the bowl of popcorn, and kissed him on the lips. “Happy New Year, Phil,” she smiled, nuzzling him. 

He wrapped his forelegs tight around his back and she tucked her head beneath his chin, using her wing to draw the blanket closer to them both. By the time the end credits were rolling, both ponies had fallen deep asleep.