Ebony Crystal

by The Music Man

13 January 606

Today Clear Crystals came back to class, the principle escorting her. He told Mr. Foalsat what had happened, and do you know what that bastard did? After the principle left, he gave a speech that went:

"Now I want everyone to take a good look at Ms. Crystals here. She used to be a capable mare until she turned to a life of selling life-decimating drugs. Like many of her cohorts, she thought she was immune to the law and would get away with it. But Celesta's justice is both swift and unforgiving. As the law dictates, 'Those who would use their serpentine tongue to seduce society into an unnatural stupor by use of mind-clouding toxins must have it cut from them.' " I wish I could cut his serpentine tongue.

After he got onto the math lecture, Crystals and I got a note chain going. She said that her mom would be picking her up from now on, and she wasn't suppose to talk to me or Straight Line. Fat chance. Then when Sunshine Down and I started to talk, she got all pissy and wrote, "Why are you talking to that evil bitch? She's the reason I don't have a job or a tongue!" along with a drawing of Sunshine's head on a pike. I glanced at Straight Line and he only gave a glare that said the same thing, except for the tongue part.

What was I suppose to do? Sunshine knows about my alien eggs (now babies) and if I piss her off, Celestia might take them from me! I don't want that. And she might also ruin my relationship with Big Jock, who I shared a whole pizza with. Oh, and allied in the pizzeria's first great spit-ball war.

So let me tell you what happened. Since the pizzeria just opened up, there was only me, Big Jock, and his friends on-stage. After sharing our pizza and a few kisses, we sat back and watched them play. Then, Big Jock winked at me, balled up some napkin, put it in his mouth, and ptooey! A white ball appeared on the forehead of the lead guitar.

While we laughed, the band gave each other looks. "Now!" the drummer shouted, and in an instant the two guitars and the bass jumped off stage, toppled tables, and returned fire, all while playing some awesome rock. Before we knew it, we were in an all out war! Jock got hit with four in the face and I got a few in my hair, but that's not to say that they didn't get a few in their manes.

Then the manager walked in. We all stopped dead. He shifted his eyes at both our camps. Then, out of nowhere, his mouth produced two golf-ball sized spit-wads that he used to nail Jock and the lead guitarist. I even got a little spray from it (old stallion spit. Gross). Then, it was us five against him. You'd think that it would be an easy battle, but he was spitting them out like it was no-pony's business. He was like a freaking machine gun!

After our manes turned white and soaked with old-stallion spit, we all surrendered. He let us in the back to wash-off, and we all agreed to help him clean up. Can't leave a cool stallion like that hanging.