//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: Getting Spades Home // by BronyDan //------------------------------// Grey clouds hung in the air over Ponyville next morning. Colts and fillies jumped in the puddles as they made their way to school and in Sugarcube Corner during the morning breakfast rush, Mrs Cake’s eyes couldn’t move away from the three stallions that were sitting in the far corner. She placed the money in the till, and slowly went forward to clean some of the tables, her ears open to the conversation they were having. “Well, it wasn’t our fault.” said Featherweight, in a reassuring whisper as he drank his tea, “I mean, he insisted that we took him to Dinky’s. He wanted to go.” “And I wonder how he feels about that decision this morning.” muttered Pipsqueak. “But what a climax to end your life on.” Chowder sniggered. “Well he obviously knew what he was doing.” said Featherweight, a small smirk showing up on his face, “Yes, he launched himself from Dinky Hooves like a high cliff.” “Leaving us to pick up the pieces at the bottom.” finished Pipsqueak. “I can still see that daft grin on his face.” said Chowder, leaning forward, “I swear, he was looking happier dead than he did alive.” Chowder then looked up, and nodded slightly as Featherweight and Pipsqueak turned their necks to look in that direction. Mrs Cake was now standing quite close to them cleaning one of the tables, and even though her back was turned, her ears were pricked up and listening. She turned around just to see their heads swivel back into place and walked back over to the counter. When she had moved away, Chowder pulled out a newspaper from his hoodie. “You’re not betting on the rabbits today, are you?” asked Featherweight, sounding exasperated. “Well I’m gonna need a new suit for the funeral, aren’t I?” said Chowder, flattening the paper. “You don’t need a new suit for the funeral.” Pipsqueak whispered in his ear, “Because Spades has left you his from our graduation ceremony.” Chowder looked up from his paper and turned to Pipsqueak. “Me?” he whispered, pointing at himself, “He’s left me his… was he wearing that navy blue one at our graduation?” and when they nodded, a huge grin came across his face, “Hey, now that wasn’t a bad looking suit. I wish you told me last night, I got have brought it home with me.”, at these last words, Featherweight and Pipsqueak gave Chowder a smack across the head, “What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his head. “We didn’t see Spades last night.” whispered Featherweight, pulling him closer towards him. “We never went near him.” Pipsqueak then whispered, pulling Chowder towards him now. “Which is why we could not get your suit?” Featherweight continued, pulling him back towards him again. “Because we were not there!” Pipsqueak finished. Chowder straightened his hoodie as his friends stared at him. “I got it.” he said, and he started to get up from his seat. “Where are you going?” asked Featherweight. “Going over to Cillit’s to ask for the suit.” said Chowder, and Pipsqueak pulled him back into his seat, and they gave him another hit across the head. “What did I do now?” he asked, offensively. “You can’t just go over to Cillit’s and ask for the suit!” said Featherweight quickly. “It’s my suit!” “Yes, but we are not supposed to know yet, that he, is, dead!” Featherweight snarled through gritted teeth. “We have to wait, until we hear about it through the proper channels, and then we act surprised.” said Pipsqueak simply, “Now do you understand?” Chowder looked at them and slumped in his chair, “You know what, he can keep his suit, if it’s gonna be all this trouble.” Featherweight and Pipsqueak sighed, got up from their seats and dragged Chowder out of the store, with Chowder protesting all the way. Mrs Cake’s eyes followed them, her eyebrows raised suspiciously. Later that day, the trio decided to take a walk to clear their heads, and before long they found themselves coming close to their old school. They leaned over the wall and looked over the playground, seeing the young fillies and colts skipping and running around the place. In the window, they could see that Miss Cheerilee was still there behind the desk, marking that morning maths test. “You know, sometimes I do miss those days in school.” sighed Chowder, “Being told off for not doing homework, spending time in detention, putting the occasional frog down a girl’s tail.” Pipsqueak and Featherweight looked over at him. “And the good times were?” asked Featherweight. “Well at least they were better than spending your afternoons in photography club.” said Chowder. “There was nothing wrong with photography club!” Featherweight snapped, suddenly. “You only have a go at it, because you got kicked out on your first day, for trying to take pictures of Summer Lily in the changing room with the close up lens!” Before an argument could start, Pipsqueak cleared his throat to get their attention and pointed over the other side of the wall. Pound Cake was there looking at them, sternly. “You three were bloody lucky last night!” he hissed. “You shouldn’t be using language like that!” said Featherweight, looking shocked. “You’re lucky I was able to think of an excuse to cover up why Pipsqueak was there. I nearly got grounded for it!” “Anyway thanks for the cart, Pound Cake.” said Featherweight, “But we’re not out of this yet. Until the news gets out formally, we’re on thin ice.” “Yeah, imagine what would happen if Princess Twilight finds out.” said Pound Cake, sniggering darkly. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder shushed him and looked over their shoulders, hoping she wasn’t behind them. Even though she was now a princess, Twilight still resided in Ponyville, and would often get regular reports on what was going on the small town. “That’s the last thing we want, having the Royals involved.” said Featherweight, “I really don’t want to be brought up in front of Princess Celestia, on possible murder charges.” “We didn’t kill him, Featherweight, it was his decision.” said Pipsqueak, calming him down. Just then, the bell rang signalling that lunch was over. They waved bye to Pound Cake and began to walk back towards Ponyville, thinking of the possible punishments Celestia will bestow upon them if they get caught. Next morning, Pipsqueak was cleaning out his downstairs cupboard when he heard loud knocking on his door. He opened it, and Featherweight lunged forward into the house, a copy of the ‘Equestria Daily’ under his hoof. “It’s in the papers!” he said, a wild grin across his face. “What is?” asked Pipsqueak. “Spades!” Featherweight cried as he opened the newspaper to the obituary page, “Spades, age 19, beloved son of Cillit Ariel, died at his home after a long illness, funeral Monday”. He closed the newspaper and looked at Pipsqueak, still grinning madly, “Didn’t you hear? ‘At his home’! Well that means we have had more luck than we deserve and we have got away with it!” Pipsqueak gave a sigh of relief. “So, now we can go and pay our respects officially.” and he closed the cupboard door and followed Featherweight outside to find Chowder. They found Chowder walking lazily through the square. They explained to him about Spades in the paper, and he gave a wicked grin. “Great. Now I can get the suit.” They began to walk back through the town, but Chowder began to slow down as the stalls thinned out a bit, “Hang on, I’ve forgotten something.” and he ran back among the stalls and out of sight. “What does he mean he’s forgotten something, he hasn’t been carrying anything.” said Featherweight, just as a loud scream could be heard. “Oh no.” he muttered to himself in embarrassment. Just then, Chowder came galloping past them, smiling to himself. Pipsqueak and Featherweight followed suit; they knew what Chowder had done. Soon enough, apples were being pelted at them by Apple Bloom; Chowder had clearly done his trademark sneak and flank grab on her. “Ah’ll have my brother set on ya, Chowder ya pervert!” Apple Bloom screamed loudly. “And a good morning to you too Apple Bloom.” Featherweight called back as another apple bounced off his back. They quickly made their way out of the market and headed for Spades’ home. They slowly walked up the garden path to Cillit’s front door and knocked gently. The door opened, revealing Cillit, still looking sour as ever. “We’ve just heard about Spades.” said Featherweight, in a sombre tone, “We’ve come to offer our condolences.” “And maybe pick up the suit.” Chowder added. Pipsqueak gave him a sharp nudge to keep him quiet. “Look Cillit, if there is anything we can do help, you can always ask us.” said Pipsqueak sweetly, but that wasn’t enough to stop Cillit staring daggers at them. Eventually she said, in a suspicious tone, “Maybe you can tell me, how my son manages to die in his bed, and still get his slippers wet through, lipstick on him, and fluff all over his second best jacket?” The trio stood silently, trying not to look too guilty. Finally Chowder broke the silence by slowly saying, “Well, they do say a pony’s lips can change colour when they die. My granddad’s went purple.” “This looked like Passion Pink!” Cillit spat. “Yeah, well his looked like he’d been eating blackberries.” Chowder giggled. Featherweight muttered under his breath telling Chowder to shut up, and he quickly looked back at Cillit and said, “Would it be possible for us to pay our respects to Spades?” “You can do that in the shed, because that’s where he is.” said Cillit, about to close the door on them. “HE’S IN THE SHED?!” said all three colts in unison. “I’m not having his cronies trampling over my best carpets!” Cillit snorted as she closed the door on them. Featherweight, Pipsqueak and Chowder looked at each other, not knowing what to say to this statement. “You know I don’t like to speak ill of ponies,” said Pipsqueak as they walked around to the back gardens, “but I’m beginning to think Cillit’s a bit of a bitch.” “Well it does seem a typical thing for her to do.” Featherweight joked, “Keeping her dead in the shed.” Chowder pulled the door open, and they all squeezed inside. The open coffin took up a lot of space in the shed, it was resting on the work table that Cillit had pulled into the centre. Featherweight, Pipsqueak and Chowder all shuffled around the coffin to look at Spades. He still had that grin across his face, and a white sheet was draped around him. Featherweight and Pipsqueak closed their eyes and bowed their heads in respect, however, Chowder whispered a rather silly comment; “Don’t he look well?” The pub was already quite full by half-past seven that evening. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke wafted through the air. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder were sitting in their usual stall at the back, and were joined by Dinky Hooves and Spike. Dinky had been crying softly for the majority of the time, especially when Sweetie Belle had stood up to sing an old love song on her karaoke machine. As the boys were downing their third pints, Dinky said in a loud voice over the music, “It’s not right for Spades to spend his last weekend in that shed. If it were up to me, he could have my best room until they were ready for him on Monday.” Featherweight lowered his glass and looked over at her. He was starting to feel a little bit tipsy at this point. “Well, it can be … arranged, Donkey… Dinky.” he said, slurring his words a little as he spoke, “All we would need is the transport, and an extra bit of muscle.” and he put his hoof around Spike’s shoulder, who was now looking rather nervous as he lowered his half- empty glass.