A My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Fan Fiction

Written by: Goober Trooper

With assistance from: Ozpakko & Icrus Team 402

A long note from the Author

It was a typical mundane hot August day. Cars drove and children laughed, people yelled and music played. It was another ordinary day, but to break out of my personal monotony I would run a mile. It was on one of these usual runs that I, of course, found something unusual. Not much trash litters the streets near my home, so when I noticed an orange notepad laying in the gutter my curiosity was intrigued. A red SUV whizzed past the breeze from the vehicle caused the pages to turn rapidly.

As I knelt and collected the notepad I noticed the edges of it were charred. As if someone had held the notepad to a flame, and rotated it to ensure all the edges were evenly burned... Which as silly to think as it would be to do. I turned through the pages and skimmed through the what was written there. It was horrible handwriting. I could only make out a few sentences. I had assumed this would be a children's drawing pad or someone's notes, but I quickly realized it was some form of journal. I looked to the corner of the page where the date was written.

Of course, the last two numbers couldn't be read. Unfortunately, they were to close to an edge that was charred.

I chuckled being amused with how entirely clichè this all was. I knew I had nothing better to do with my time so I kept the notepad with me and finished my run. With hopes of being able to interpret the poorly written pages at my home.

After an hour of studying the journal in my humid and odor filled room. I discovered a second author's writing on the last few pages. It was hastily written, but much easier to read then the first writer's. It was a series of concise notes that were dated in a similar manner as the original author's, but they lacked a year date. This allowed me to assume that the events that occurred in both accounts were in the same time period. What the notes consisted of unnerved me, but inspired me to transcribe and write.

After several hours over several days I had finally finished transcribing the first day of the journal. I also took the liberty to expand upon the notes. To hopefully give an accurate account of what occurred on The Other Side. I concluded to share my discoveries with you here. I will continue to work on transcribing and retelling what this notepad contains. Perhaps you'll find this entertaining, or use it to pass the time while you wait for something more important. Maybe it's just a load of garbage to you, however you take it.

March 12th 20XX

I don't remember how long it's been since I've written. A year, at least. God, I can barely read what I'm writing... Not that the lack of lighting I get in these alleyways helps. I haven't really decided what to do with this notepad... So I guess I'll be keeping a journal of sorts. Not much else for me to write about. May as well start with finding this notepad. It's as good of a place as any I guess...

Me and Frank, A tan guy of average height with sharp features and a shifty expression, were approaching the Riverfront. The Riverfront is a several mile stretch of strip malls, stores, department stores, apartments, and supermarkets placed across the street from the River. All of them had been built out of depressingly bland and boring concrete, red brick, cinder blocks, stucco, or painted wood. The paint was fading and the buildings were covered in graffiti and filth.

Most of these stores and business had been abandoned for a year, some for even longer. A couple now served as lodgings for the various gangs that filled our Poverty Zone while the rest just slowly decayed. Eventually we arrived at a McDonalds. It had closed about a week ago, but it was one of the last business in the Slums. Frank and I walked on over to the glass door, which was broken by previous looters, and stepped though it.

Ransacked and vomit summed up the McDonalds pretty well. The floors were grimy and sticky. There was a thick layer of either grease, spilt food and drinks, blood, feces, or piss. I didn't care to find out what the combination of that it was. The wallpaper was coming off in chunks along with the table surfaces and seat cushions, the lighting fixtures had been broken and the bulbs stolen. We looked around the McDonalds quickly, anything that could be eaten or drunk, or of remote value that we could bring back and sell on the Market.

We quickly came to the realization that one of the larger groups had come through and had already taken anything that we would be looking for. As we walked towards the entrance, which was now our exit, I recalled coming here shortly after I had arrived in this Poverty Zone. I had collected enough cash to buy a Coke. A small Coke these days was 29.99. I solemnly paid for my Coke and drank it, but it was foul. There was a grimy bitterness to it that I did not remember existing in Coca Cola. I had begrudgingly drank my soda, but it was the first time I had caffeine and corn syrup in a long while. I remember asking one of my... associates about the price shortly after the purchase. He laughed heartily before replying.

"Those morons back in the capital. They kept printin' money. So the money became worth nothin' and the pay became nothin' and soon the jobs became nothin'. So when yer money's nothin' it takes a lot more of nothin' to get somethin'. That's why it's tough to buy food, or just about anythin', these days, because it cost so damn much."

The memories melted away as Frank and I left the McDonalds. I took notice of a trampled, dirt stained note on the ground. I picked it up and skimmed over what was printed onto it.

"We regret to inform all Poverty Zone 56 Citizens that it has become too difficult to keep our Poverty Zone stores stocked and maintained. Due to this we are now closing all Poverty Zone stores."

I seriously doubted they could have much regret with closing off a business in this pathetic stretch of Earth. Besides that the note contained nothing of importance so I tossed it to the ground. Frank was staring at me tapping his foot on the ground. His impatience with my curiosity was obvious. I responded to this by raising my head along with an eyebrow.

"Should prob' check the dumpster. I'll keep a lookout." Frank said to me in his scratchy voice.

I nodded and swiftly ran behind the McDonalds, saw the dumpster, and vaulted inside of it. I had long since become accustomed to the smell of garbage and living in filth. If I hadn't... Well, I'd be dead. Adapt and survive. That's what it comes down to here. I looked through all the trash and garbage bags that had collected in here for the same things that we searched for in the McDonalds. Food, clothing, drinks, comfort items, bottles, or valuables. When I gathered a small pile of McDonalds wrappers and used toilet paper and had shifted it to the side, I noticed this notepad and pencil which was tucked into the metal coil. I picked it up and flipped through the pages. It appeared that a child had doodled in this a long time ago. The pencil drawings were very faded. I shrugged as I brought my pack around and stuffed it inside.

"Meh. Maybe I'll follow that kid's path and doodle when I got spare time." I thought.

I'll be honest. I was hoping for a half eaten Big Mac at least, but this dumpster was already picked through. Several of the garbage bags had already been sliced open.

"Yo, Frank! You need toilet paper? There's loads of it in here!" I called out to him.

I threw my backpack back onto my shoulders, and grabbed one of the water bottles in the side pockets. I twisted the cap off, got a quick drink, and put it back in it's previous spot. I vaulted out of the dumpster and stumbled slightly as I landed, but recovered and jogged over to Frank. He looked at me skeptically, but I merely shrugged in response. He could doubt me as much as he liked, I didn't care. Frank put on a dismissive expression, as he turned to jog down the street. As I followed him I thought about how shady this guy was.

When the leader of our group, Redge, recruited him he was open, if not a little proud, of his criminal past. What exactly he did I never knew, but I suspected it was several accounts of robbery. He also informed us that the government had dumped about a hundred some odd other prisoners into the Poverty Zone with him. That was the most recent news we've had about the country, or the world in general. I think that was about 3 months ago although I'm not certain. More recently, however, he's tried feeling me out. To see if I shared his interests in taking advantage of the lawlessness. So far I haven't. I've been getting by fairly well without having to cause others misery to achieve the same goal, but who knows how long that'll last? Those who have given up on morals seem to be doing pretty well... Arguably prosperous.

I glanced over at the river as we ran. I could barely make it out through the thicket that divided the town from the large stream. It was a sad stretch of brown water that sliced it's way through the city. Piles of rubbish and refuse drifted down and collected on the banks. I could make out a few people in shabby clothing picking through the soggy debris that collected on the shores, or bathing in the disgusting brown water. I can never make myself bathe in that sorry excuse for a river with the knowledge that others dump their poop and piss into it frequently. Frank suddenly veered down an alleyway forcing me to tear my eyes away from the scruffy people on the shoreline.

I find it amusing to remember a time where people would gather and clean the river's shore, but now those same people have no regard for their own filth. When your tossed into a poverty stricken part of town, and left to your own means, your priorities change extremely fast, and if they don't... Well, I guess you could say that your state of being changes pretty fast too.

At some point, around what I guessed to be noon, we stopped for lunch. All I had to consume was a piece of stiff bread and moldy apple slices. We washed it down with brown awful smelling water that we collected from the gutters earlier. The taste of that foul liquid never leaves your mouth quickly. After we hastily ate our pathetic lunch, we shouldered our packs and continued running for several more hours.

We glanced through the dumpsters and garbage bins that we passed by. I scored a stale, moldy loaf of bread and was quickly able to stuff it into my pack before Frank noticed. However, I didn't have the same amount of luck ,as I took two bottles of clean, purified water from some woman's backpack and handed one of them over to Frank. She was dead, of course, and thirst held little importance to her. As the sound of a vehicle approached we hastily halted our looting. We avoided any sort of car as best we could. You could never guess the intent of the driver. I've seen my share of people become the victims of a drive-by. A couple dudes would jump out, mug ya or kill ya, take your stuff, and take off. If you were lucky they'd kill you. Being left for dead is a guarantee that you'll have a slow agonizing death.

"Duh. We've only done this... Right, thousands of times." I replied with more then a sufficient tone of annoyance. His eagerness to take command of every situation possible agitated me to no end.

Although he ignored my irritation and leaped towards a door. He leaned against it trying to conceal himself in the shadows as best as possible. I casually walked over to a dumpster and vaulted inside, kicked back and enjoyed the nasty comfort of several garbage bags. I was completely confident that we wouldn't be seen, but my confidence faded as I realized my shoulder was getting wet. I quickly sat up and looked where my left shoulder was and cringed.

I had landed on someone's refuse. Apparently, they didn't have the decency to bag it at least. Decency? Who am I kidding by writing that? Decency died a long time ago. I frantically searched through my dumpster and spotted a plastic bag. I grabbed it and started whipping my shoulder ineffectively. I sighed and instantly regretted leaving my backpack by the toter. I'd found a metal box which would have sold for a nice bit of cash,and was stuffing it into my pack when we'd heard the car.

I tossed the plastic bag aside and tried to tear open one of the garbage bags with my hands. After much effort I pried myself open an entry and rummaged through the bag. I insincerely thanked God that toilet paper was conveniently inside. Toilet paper was always in abundance among the trash, whether if it was used or not, but it was most commonly found stained. I grabbed a good wad of both types of toilet paper and wiped my shoulder. Hopefully, I had gotten most of it off when Frank's ferrety face appeared over the edge of my dumpster.

He laughed at my predicament and dropped down. I groaned and climbed out of the dumpster. I finished putting the metal box in my pack and asked Frank what time it was. He glanced down at his watch for a moment. I remembered for the uncounted time that I still needed to locate one.

I thought quickly. Blugar's Park was in the exact opposite direction of my home. By the time I got to the park, turned in my share, and started the walk back to my home the sun would have begun setting. And it can easily be guessed that it would be a bad idea to walk these streets at night, when anyone can get the jump on you at any time.

"I don't think I can make it to the park and back to my box before sunset." I said, I glanced up at Frank wearily.

Frank wasn't tall at all. I was merely short and it irritates me beyond belief that I have to look up to this guy.

" 'If you don't turn in your share you don't breathe no more air.' You know how that saying goes. You know how this group works, Luke. Your one of the oldest members." Frank said, quickly becoming agitated.

"Look, I'm not saying I won't turn in my share. I'll give you my share, you take it for me, and I'll see you back at the park tomorrow morn', assuming Redge doesn't give us new orders. Alright?" I responded in my best attempt to sound reasonable and convincing, but I probably sucked at it.

Frank thought this through staring at the ground between us. He nodded then looked up from the ground to me with a strange grin.

"Fair enough. Give me your share and I'll take it to him." He replied, as if he'd thought of the idea.

I nodded and slung my pack off my shoulder. I quickly took out the metal box and handed it to Frank.

"I packed some stuff into the box already. It should be sufficient." I informed him.

"Take care." I said with some hastily mustered enthusiasm. I actually wouldn't care if the guy got hit in the face with a brick, as he walked away from me.

I then turned and jogged towards the street. I halted at the curb and turned right, but before I resumed running I noticed something out of the corner of my eye... Something colorful. I quickly looked up, but nothing was out of the ordinary. It was a typical hazy blue sky with occasional clouds. I shrugged and turned my gaze down to the ground seeing what may have caught my attention.

There was an odd feather in the gutter. It was almost the same color as the sky, but the color darkened as it neared the tip. I stooped and picked it up, inspecting it closely. It was incredibly soft. Never in my life had I felt something so soft before. No pillow or blanket, bird nor beast, cute kitten, or cuddly caterpillar had felt this smooth, soft, and pure. But this feather was too large to be of any birds that I knew of, and besides the only birds that I've seen in this area were crows, pigeons, and the occasional migrating geese. I raised my shoulders again and dropped it back to the ground, stepping on it as I ran towards my home. I didn't have use for a feather from a fat bird.

I turned down into the alleyway that my home resided in. It was a cardboard freezer box wedged between two dumpsters. I quickly pulled it out, folded it down, and carried it with me, as I traveled to another location for the night. I almost fell flat on my back as I awkwardly walked over a discarded soda bottle. It was most likely accidentally, yet strategically placed, at the entrance of the alley I had turned onto. A few minutes later my box was set up again between two garbage cans. I was now pulling my notepad, pencil, blood stained blanket and dirty, torn pillow out of my pack. I crammed them in the box and crawled in after them. I then laid down and tried to shift the box between the garbage bins better. Once satisfied, I took my shoes off, which had begun to fall apart again. I'd need to find some more duct tape soon. And so I then wrote how I found this notepad. The light has almost faded now. Gonna put this aside and call it a night. Hopefully, I have more time to write tomorrow. Besides I always needed to improve my penmanship.

I'm entirely aware of the majority of grammar issues, however since this is a direct transcription I have left it as it is for the most part. Occasionally, I may cross reference what I actually see in Luke's journal, with what I have written and make changes to more accurate display what is written.

Alleys

by Goober_Trooper

March 12th 20XX