//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Getting Spades Home // by BronyDan //------------------------------// The early Wednesday afternoon sun shone over the grassy hills surrounding Ponyville, and it made the lake shimmer like a star under its gaze. Ponies could be seen skipping on the stones in the shallow waters, or taking a brisk walk over the bridge and stopping to admire the scenery. The bell at the school could be heard ringing in the distance for the colts and fillies to return inside and resume their lessons and over in the fields, a herd of cows could be seen grazing. Up on the side of one of the hills, resting lazily in the sun were three young stallions, Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder. Even though all three were nearing nineteen, some of the older generation still tended to treat them like they were schoolcolts, only because they continued, in their eyes at least, to act that way. To some, when a colt was to reach the age of stallionhood, he was to go out and find a reasonable occupation and live out on his own, and not to try and get himself and two of his friends onto a single bicycle and race down a hill. While all three were living in their own residents since they had left school, they hadn’t considered looking for their rightful destinies, even years after achieving their Cutie-Marks; they much preferred to go around town, looking for some new way to enjoy themselves, while also irritating those around them. They had always been coming up to this secluded area of the hill for years, either to talk about certain ponies, or because there was simply nothing to do, and all the years of sitting there had left their marks in the grass, although the flatten areas had gotten slightly bigger overtime. Pipsqueak was considered the smallest of the trio, but was often the wisest. He would often look through life through a different eye, and was quite philosophical in his mind. Even though he had come down to Ponyville from Trottingham, he hadn’t inherited the lower Middle-Class style of living his parents were accustomed to, he was happy to walk around wearing an open collar shirt and an unbuttoned cardigan, but he still retained the accent. Featherweight, while already being quite tall for his age when at school, had grown a few more inches since then and he towered over his friends with an air of superiority, and he had always envied Pipsqueak’s upbringing. He was a great believer in studying and understanding how things were to work in the world, even though he had no desire to search for it himself. He had gained his knowledge and love of books when he had worked at the library with Twilight, but he had also taken his slight snobbish attitude from Rarity while working at Carousel Boutique, seeing how the finer ponies were to dress and act, so he was always seen walking in the middle of Pipsqueak and Chowder with a clean shirt, done up tie, with a light brown waistcoat. Chowder had just drifted through life. He didn’t really have any opinion on life, except that he lived to enjoy it to its fullest. His build was bigger than his friends, but years of being on the schools Rugby team had developed some of his fat into strong muscle. He wasn’t the brightest candle on the candelabra, but years of pulling jokes on Featherweight had given him a very cheeky sense of humour, and the years of back-talking to Featherweight had given him a sharp tongue. It wasn’t as if Featherweight and Chowder didn't like each other, they just found the other an easy target to criticise; Chowder would often joke about Featherweight’s attempts to look like a gentlecolt out of Canterlot, while Featherweight criticised Chowder for his dress-sense, which always included an old dirty grey hoodie, and wearing a baseball cap perched untidily on his head. Chowder had also developed a crush on Apple Bloom, a member of the original Cutie-Mark Crusaders, and it was usually a daily routine for Pipsqueak and Featherweight to try and restrain Chowder every time he saw her, because they knew his tactics of trying to win her was just pulling her into a kiss, and it had once or twice ended with him having a broken muzzle after she had kicked him in the face. Featherweight looked over to Chowder who was blowing into his hooves, a blade of grass in-between them, “Do you have any idea about how many unseemly substances could be on that one blade of grass?” he asked. Chowder responded by blowing a raspberry, “Yes, it’ll be covered in that as well.” Featherweight sighed. Pipsqueak looked up at the afternoon sky, “I think it’ll be a bit warm for Spades this afternoon.” he said quietly. “Well it usually is when you’re in hospital.” said Featherweight. Spades was a young stallion that they had known since their school days, but for the past few weeks he had been diagnosed with an ailment which hadn’t been seen for centuries and had spent the last month in Ponyville General Hospital, having to be connected to a drip and eating only liquids. “I thought he was getting better.” said Chowder, pulling his mouth away from his hooves, “Maybe they’ll let him sit outside. Don’t worry; we’ll cheer up him up when we see him tonight.” “Oh really?” scoffed Featherweight, “Celestia’s gift to the National Health, are you?” he chuckled to himself and turned back to Chowder, “Now listen,” he said sternly, “when we’re there, no more language in front of his mother.” “That was an emergency!” said Chowder defensively, “My fag dropped into my hoodie.” “Well you shouldn’t have been smoking in the wards in the first place.” said Featherweight. Chowder looked at him in shock, “For the whole hour?! What do they expect you to do then?” “At least have some consideration for Spades’ condition.” said Featherweight, “I mean, he’s had to give up practically everything now.” “Well, the hospital haven’t been consistent about that.” sneered Chowder, “If they’re trying to cut out everything that’s bad for him, what’s his mother doing there?” “Maybe he likes her better when he’s under strong medication.” suggested Pipsqueak, “But I’m sure Cillit does have a good heart somewhere." “She certainly knows how to keep her house tidy.” said Featherweight. “No wonder, she never lets anypony in the bloody place. Not even Spades' dad when he was alive." said Chowder, “He probably spent the best years of his marriage stuck down in the garden shed!” “However we can all agree on one thing, Spades has always made the best of a bad situation” said Featherweight, “He’s always managed to keep on his mother’s good side by following her instructions, while at the same time, sneaking out twice a week for an intimate and passionate relationship with Dinky Hooves.” “She has been good to him, Dinky has.” smiled Chowder, “He’ll be sick if he has to give up that as well.” he chuckled to himself, as he looked down into the valley. At the bottom of the ridge, he could just see a young white mare with a curly pink and purple mane and tail, walking alongside a stone wall, “Hey, that’s Sweetie Belle.” he whispered to the others, “What’s she doing out here?” “I expect she’s just come out to rid her lungs of the smell of Stripped velvet and the occasional mothball.” said Pipsqueak. “Well, it’s not really our business to know why she’s up here.” said Featherweight; the other two looked at him, eyebrows raised, “I never said it doesn’t make it more fascinating.” he finished as he leaned over Chowder’s shoulder to get a good look. They followed Sweetie Belle as she stopped at a gap in the wall, as a stallion appeared behind it; a quite rounded turquoise stallion. “Is that…?” asked Featherweight. “It is!” said Chowder, almost burst to laughing, “It’s Snips!” he gasped as Sweetie Belle led him behind a tree and out of sight, “That’s the last time I’m letting her near my inner leg, if her hooves have been all over that tragedy." he sniggered. “Would you get back down, in case they see you.” said Featherweight pulling Chowder back down on the grass, “And put your eyes back in, if they go out any further they’ll roll down the hill.” he added as Chowders eyes were still fixed on the tree. Eventually they got up and decided it was time to pay Spades a visit. They dusted the loose grass off themselves, and navigated themselves down the steep slope back into town, unaware that life was going to become very difficult and complicated for them that weekend.