The clock chimed one in the morning as the rain continued to pound against the window. Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Chowder and Dinky sat around the small table in the living room, each with a cup of strong tea Pipsqueak had made when they had come back downstairs. They all sat in silence, sipping their tea quietly, while Dinky blew her nose in her handkerchief.
“I’ll never get that image out of my head.” said Pipsqueak, running his hoof through his mane, “When I saw him lying there, I just stood there and thought, ‘Spades, you tactless twat’.”
“He’s really got us in trouble now.” said Chowder, “I swear the git thinks it’s funny. Did you see his face?”
“He just wanted some comfort.” Dinky sniffed.
“Well judging by his expression, I think he found it.” said Featherweight, giving off a slight giggle, but when nopony joined in, he went back to drinking his tea. “This is going to be a shock to his mother.” he said to himself.
Pipsqueak spluttered into his cup. “Oh bloody hell! How are we going to tell Cillit?” Everypony turned their heads to him. “Well don’t look at me, I’m not doing it!” he said, leaning away from them in his chair.
“Well look, you do hear stories of ponies dying in bed anyway.” said Featherweight.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be your own bloody bed!” said Pipsqueak loudly, standing up from his chair.
“Boys, please!” said Dinky before an argument could break out, “I think Spades ought to go back to his mother’s. It just doesn’t feel right, him being here now. I’ve never cared for Cillit’s attitude, but I won’t want to embarrass her with this. You’re just gonna have to take him home.”
“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” asked Chowder.
“The same way you got him here in the first place.” said Dinky firmly, “I’ve never turned Spades down before, and I don’t like doing it now, but we all know where he needs to be right now, and it isn’t here!” and she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder sitting by the table, looking dumbfounded.
The rain had finally stopped, but there was still a cold breeze in the air. They changed back into their warm, dry clothes and went upstairs to try and get Spades’ clothes back on him. It was quite tricky to get his limp hooves through the sleeves of his jacket, but they managed it in the end, and Pipsqueak picked up Spades by lifting him by his forelegs, and Chowder picked up his hindlegs, and they manoeuvred him out of Dinky’s bedroom, down the stairs and out through the front door where Featherweight was waiting.
The next difficult part was trying to get him to sit on the bike properly. Pipsqueak held onto the handles, while Featherweight and Chowder tried to get Spades to sit properly, but he kept slouching forward, with one hoof dangling over the side of the bike. “We can’t wheel him through the streets like that.” whispered Featherweight, “It needs to look convincing.”
“Well don’t tell me, tell him!” hissed Chowder, pointing at Spades’ limp body.
“Is it too late for me to take back what I said earlier and tell Cillit what we’ve done?” asked Pipsqueak, as he propped his bicycle back up against the wall, and tried his hoof at making Spades sit up straight. “It’s no good.” he said at last, leaving Spades to drop forward, “We’re gonna have to borrow Mr Cakes’ cart again.”
“Oh I’m sure he let us have it!” said Chowder sarcastically, “Just go up to Sugarcube Corner, knock on the door and say, ‘So sorry to wake you Mr Cake, but can we borrow your cart so we can drive our mate Spades’ dead body back home from his marefriend’s house, where we snuck him off to so he could get lucky?’. Yeah, that’ll work!”
“Who says we need to ask Mr Cake for the cart?” said Featherweight, quietly.
“No, I’m not stealing it, I draw the line at stealing!” said Pipsqueak.
“I’m not suggesting we steal it.” said Featherweight, thinking of how he could say it better, “I mean, why don’t we ask somepony else that we can borrow it?”
Pound Cake was sleeping heavily, when he felt something nudging his right shoulder. He rolled over, and could just make out his twin sister through his half-closed eyes. “Pounds, I think I hear something at the window.” Pumpkin Cake whispered.
Pound Cake groaned and rolled over. He still didn’t like the idea of having to share a room with his sister, and was always pestering his parents to let him move into the spare room, but they always told him no, due to the fact that it was being used as a storage area for their goods. He was just about to drift off again, when a louder tap came at the window. Pound Cake sat up straight, staring at the closed curtains. “Should we get Mum or Dad?” he asked, but Pumpkin Cake used her magic to lift him out of his bed and drop him onto the floor. Muttering to himself, he walked slowly over to the curtains, pulled them apart slightly and peered down into the street. A young stallion, standing next to a bicycle was waving at him to come outside. “It’s Pipsqueak.” said Pound Cake, as his vision got clearer.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“I’ll go and find out.” yawned Pound Cake as he walked over to the door to the landing. He looked over to his parents’ bedroom down the hall and then walked carefully towards the stairs making sure not to wake them.
Pipsqueak gave Pumpkin Cake a little wave as she peered through the curtains suspiciously. The sound of a doorbell jingling caught his attention as Pound Cake opened the door and staggered out slightly towards him. “I was trying to make sure I didn’t wake your sister.” said Pipsqueak calmly as Pound Cake looked up at him, looking groggy.
“Really good idea, seeing as her bed is nearest to the window.” said Pound Cake, irritably as he stifled a yawn, “What is it Pips? Can’t you tell me tomorrow?”
Pipsqueak opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes fell upon the shape of Pumpkin Cake still looking through the window, so he led Pound Cake around the back of the shop so they couldn’t be seen and explained the situation.
Three minutes later, Pound Cake crept back into the shop and was about to close the door when the lights switched on. He turned around to see his parents looking down at him sternly; his father wore a tartan dressing gown over his pyjamas and a night cap, while his mother had curlers in her hair and a pink night gown. “Your sister has just woke us up to tell us that you’ve just been outside talking to Pipsqueak.” said Mr Cake, slowly, “Care to tell us why, son?”
“Tattletale.” Pound Cake muttered to himself. He then caught his mother’s eye and said quickly, “It was nothing.”
“Don’t lie to us young colt!” said Mrs Cake, her voice rising, “That must have been some reason for him to want to talk with you at this hour on a school night!”
“I’m telling you, it was nothing.” said Pound Cake, defensively, “He just wanted to tell me that that their friend Spades has just died.”
Mr and Mrs Cake’s expressions softened at this news. “Oh, poor soul.” said Mrs Cake, her hoof on her chest, “This must be terrible for his mother.”
“Well, it wasn’t unexpected.” said Mr Cake as he put a comforting hoof around his wife.
Pound Cake saw this as an opportunity to go back upstairs, but was then stopped when his mother stood on his tail with one of her hindlegs. “Why would he come and tell you?” she asked, looking suspicious again.
“Maybe he just wanted to tell somepony?” said Pound Cake as he pulled his tail free, “Can I go back to bed? I’ve got school tomorrow.”
“We haven’t finished with this!” Mrs Cake shouted after his retreating back as he climbed back up the stairs.
Pound Cake ignored her, but he came to a stop at the landing, and leaned against the wall. “Poor Spades.” he muttered quietly, “Dead, and now left in the hooves of those three.” He gave a little shudder and went back to bed.
Pipsqueak lay squatting behind the cart, as he waited for the light in the shop to go out. When he made sure everything was quiet, he attached himself to the harness and pulled out of the small open area the Cakes parked the cart. He made his way as quickly, but quietly as he could back to Dinky’s, where Featherweight and Chowder were waiting, with a rolled up carpet, which Pipsqueak suspected was actually Spades. He unhooked himself and helped his friends move the body onto the cart and stowed it in a little cubby under the workbench. After that was done, Featherweight and Chowder climbed into the cart as well, Pipsqueak places the harness back on, and they set off through the dark town.
They once again decided to avoid the open road, so they were now travelling back down the side roads, making sure that they were not seen. As Pipsqueak made a sharp left turn, the carpet rolled open, and Spades’ hoof flopped out and touched Chowder’s hoof. Chowder gave a high scream and kicked the hoof away. “Will you shut up?” sighed Pipsqueak.
“I’ve just had a dead pony’s hoof touch me, how would you like it?” cried Chowder, his voice going high again, and he put his hoof on Pipsqueak’s neck, causing him to let out a scream and to start swerving around the road.
“Will you pack it in?!” hissed Featherweight, hitting Chowder as Pipsqueak gained control, “We nearly had an accident.”
“I know. He nearly had kittens.” said Chowder, as Pipsqueak breathed heavily, his heart thumping loudly as they neared the edge of the town.
They brought the cart to a quiet halt outside Spades’ house. The lights were all still out, so Pipsqueak unhooked himself and helped Chowder move the rolled up carpet from under the workbench and backed slowly towards the gate, holding one end and Chowder on the other, Featherweight took up the rear. “If anypony asks, we’re just carpet sellers, going about their business.” said Pipsqueak, in a mock voice of Featherweight’s. Chowder gave a slight chuckle as they pushed the squeaking gate open.
The ladder was still propped up against the window when they returned to Spades’ window. They unrolled the carpet, revealing Spades’ still grinning face. “Now Pipsqueak, you climb the ladder first and get into the bedroom.” said Featherweight, “I’ll hold onto Spades’ legs and fly him up slowly, and Chowder will then climb the ladder with Spades on his shoulders, that way we’ll be able to keep him straight as we pass him through the window.”
Pipsqueak nodded slowly, and started to climb the ladder. He pulled himself through the window, and leaned out ready. Chowder balanced Spades’ limp body on his shoulders as he started to climb up after him, and Featherweight slowly began to flap his wings while holding tightly onto Spades’ legs. The two of them managed to keep the body as straight as they could, and when they reached the window, Pipsqueak grabbed hold of Spades’ forelegs and pulled him in, while Featherweight pushed from behind.
As Featherweight helped Chowder through the window and closed the curtains, Pipsqueak flicked the lights on. Spades was now lying sprawled on his bed. “Oh Celestia, get a brush, he’s covered in fluff from that carpet.” Featherweight hissed as he pulled off Spades’ wet slippers.
“He’s only been dead for five minutes, and look at the state he’s in.” whispered Pipsqueak as he brushed Spades’ jacket.
Featherweight went to the other side of the room and opened the wardrobe door, where he spotted a spare hanger. He looked over at Pipsqueak and Chowder, who were just pulling his jacket off and then they threw it over to him. He placed back on the hanger, and closed the wardrobe, which gave a loud slam. “Spades, what are you doing up?” came the voice of Cillit from the down the hall.
The trio froze where they stood, praying she wasn’t going to get out of bed and investigate. “Sorry, mum.” yawned Pipsqueak, mimicking Spades’ voice. “I’ll just go back to bed.”
“Good.” came Cillit’s voice, “I want you to try and get better, and no more talk about dying.” Featherweight rolled his eyes and waved for Pipsqueak and Chowder to follow him back out the window. Pipsqueak knocked the light off as Chowder tucked Spades into bed, and they followed Featherweight through the open window, and back down the ladder, leaving a ray of moonlight to come through the curtain, and land on Spades’ grinning features.