Today was the day. The games had been set. The cola had been bought. The chips were in place. The HayStation and JoyBoy were cool and ready to go.
Button Mash swaggered into the room with triumph. He had twelve hours of the remaining Sunday left, and he had all night to spend it. And what better way to do that than going on a game binge?
“Tonight is going to be awesome,” he remarked. And with that, he picked up his controller, and pressed the start button.
Hunger was the first thing Button felt when he awoke. Then thirst, then exhaustion.
The sensations in his hooves were gone. Oh, great, he imagined. Button began a short exercise that got them working again.
He started with his back hooves, which wriggled after five minutes. He bucked his legs to fully stretch himself. Then he worked the energy below his waist to his upper body, which began to shift. It was like trying to come back after a doctor had given him laughing gas for a molar extraction. After ten minutes, his forehooves regained their senses, and his feelings were returning to his face. Though arduous, this was the fun part.
He began to make inappropriate and smug expressions to regain the strength in his eyes and mouth. Button made the look of a champion, a pimp, The Most Interesting Stallion in the World, Buck Norris, and Freddie Haycury. Ponies were going to come to him just for a glimpse, he thought. With that, he had full control of his face.
He rose to his hooves, and he was a champion. He had completed a long journey, a journey that took him from the beautiful city of Colombia to the hunter-riddled and clicker-infested land of Equestria. He had taken on the mighty Psycho Manticore, vanquished the legendary Colossi, obliterated the undefeatable Reapers (the ending still sucked), and sent Ganondwarf back to whence he came.
He made friends. Ellie, the filly that he swore to protect as the salvation of pony-kind. The Shopkeep, who taught him the lesson of being richer. The Medics, whom he was still thankful for even though they kept reviving him in the middle of the left hallway of Operation Metro. And Dogbeef, pony’s best friend in the Equestrian Wasteland.
Best of all, he had performed feats nopony had known possible. He had dived the depths of the dystopian Rapture. He learned the definition of insanity, became a shadow in the midst of a pirate and nature-dominated jungle. He had taught his enemies fear, knocked them out one by one, used green tinted goggles that made a photo-negative recharge sound, becoming an expert lightbulb assassin in the process. He himself was taught fear; he experienced it firsthand in a forest with a child-consuming entity, in a dark descent while escaping the physical embodiment of his regrets, and aboard a mining ship where everything had gone to Tartarus. He realized his true potential as the Dragonborn, stolen sweet rolls, gotten advice on how to avoid taking arrows to the shin, found a spherical entity with a yellow eye that wouldn’t stop talking about the joys of space. He had been around the block, gotten yelled at, jacked chariots, and constantly got called up by that stupid bucking cousin of his, Roman, to go bowling in Cantertrot.
These were his finest hours. Nopony was going to take them away from him, and nopony was-
“Button! Have you been playing video games all night?”
*sigh*
“No Mom!”
“Well, get up! You’re going to be late for school if you don’t come to the kitchen!”
I swear I will slay you when the time comes, he thought.
I dare you, son of mine.
What? He cried, without letting a peep. You can read my mind?
Of course. One gains the ability to read his offspring’s thoughts over time as a parent. Now, come to the kitchen.
Yes, Mother.
Walking into the kitchen, Button was met with his mother with the discrepancies in her hair sticking out and her mouth small. Someone must have had a busy night.
He couldn’t blame her, though. When your husband was working at an arcade that had night shifts, a mother had to do something to entertain herself. As far as Button knew, her mom was probably getting off of herself while his dad was working. He was worried that one of these days, his mom would drive herself over the edge when she couldn’t find new ways to pleasure herself. Eventually, she would have to turn to hi-
“Button. Mind in the present?” his mom asked.
“Yes, Mom,” he answered.
Good, she thought. I was worried he would keep thinking about my private life forever.
“Button? You don’t look so good,” his mom commented. Just now, she had noticed that his eyes were red.
“I know.”
“Button. Are you really sure that you weren’t playing all night?”
“No.”
“Do you know what happens when you go on binges like this?” she asked.
“What can?” he replied cynically.
Button’s mom sipped the cup of coffee on the table. She knew the looks of an all-nighter. She knew what was going to happen afterwards. “Well, mister, if you play video games too long, you’ll start seeing things.”
“Like what?”
“Bad things.”
“Superbad.”
“Like Superbad superbad?”
“No. Much worse.”
“Tell me what happens!”
She slipped from her chair, and put a hoof on his head.
“There’s a fine line between what you play and reality, my friend,” she remarked. “When one sees the other side too long, his mind may not come back.”
She motioned her head downwards, and put her mouth next to Button’s ear.
“The abyss also gazes, Button. Know that,” she warned.
Button’s eyes were wide open. His form stood stock still. His mom swore that his legs were about to shake. He’s getting the point, she thought. The fear sets in, the mind flows faster, and the boy starts looking behind him wherever he goes.
Then he laughed.
“Pfft, ha ha! Nice one, Mom!” He grabbed his sack lunch off the counter. “See you after school,” he finished. He made sure to kiss her cheek before dashing out the door.
She sat on the floor in the middle of the kitchen. She slowly trotted back to the table, and took her seat. Why don’t I get enough me time? she wondered, as her head fell backwards, then brought itself to a violent rest on the surface of the table.
Button trotted down the street towards Ponyville’s center. This was definitely his day.
He couldn’t wait to get to tell all of his friends about what happened last night. How he would gloat when his friends would give him all of their oohs and ahhs! He’d love to see them drive their hooves into the ground when he would tell them about how he beat David in that burning diner of a cannibalistic town with no sweat. He would tell them of the diamonds, the armor, and the portal to the Nether. Sweetie Belle would be so impressed.
“Oh, pony, today is going to be awes-“
Button’s face kissed the leg of a tall, sturdy pony. The contact was returned with a kick to the face. The eyes in his head rolled for several seconds.
“Hey, I’m walking here, watch where you’re go-“
His gaze was met with a dark brown pegasus who eyed him curiously. That wasn’t the weird part.
The weird part was that he was carrying standard-issue gear for the U.S. Medic. The helmet on his head bore the unmistakable flag of the fictional equestrian nation. Stars and stripes badges adorned the shoulders of his uniform. On his pouches, he carried a combat knife, extra mags, a spotting mirror, and several grenade tubes. In his hooves were an M320 grenade launcher, an M16A4, and a pair of gloves that held them in place.
Button couldn’t believe that he recognized his gear so quickly. What was more astonishing was that a Battleplains soldier was standing right in front of him.
“You don’t talk buffalo-shit to me, soldier! I’m a level 100 Colonel!” the tough stallion replied.
“Take it easy on the noob, man! He’s just starting out!” another voice called.
The Medic turned to his left, facing a pony running towards him. The latter stallion reached his comrade, and stopped in front of him.
Button’s mouth extended several feet, touching the ground and drooling continuously. He knew that beard and baseball cap. That SMAW. That blowtorch. Those M15 AT mines. Two Battleplains soldiers now stood in front of him; one Medic, one Engineer.
“You know we’re some of the first few soldiers they meet on the battlefield. We’re supposed to give good impressions, you know,” the Engineer continued.
“Big deal. I’ve got a shitbucket under my chair. He doesn’t.”
“One, that’s disgusting. Two, not all level 100’s have shitbuckets. Take a look at LevelClop!” he reasoned.
“We’re still going to be the dominant force on the battlefield, you know. We’re gonna be murdering the kid left, right, left, right. Ain’t nothing he can do about that.”
“You were once like that too, you know. When you’d sit at the top of the hotel on Oman, and sni-“
“Noone needs to know about that.”
“Then, you were snuck up on by DOOM49 and his buddies. It was hilarious when they made a C4 trail that went down the ladder to the pool. Then, they shot the one at the end with a .44-“
“Don’t finish that,”
“Want to push you luck?” the Engineer smiled.
The Medic faced down his ally. He dropped his M16A4. The once iron-like pony was now defeated.
“Fine. You win.”
“All right, then,” said the Engi. “We better get to the town center and cap the flag.”
“No worries, boys. I got it covered!”
The Medic and Engineer’s ears perked up. They eyed the area carefully, then turned to face another stallion.
“Hey, guys!”
“Aww, shit, not you!” the duo called.
Button’s mouth, if it could get any wider, could now fit the length of the entire Ponyville Train Line.
The Support pony, bearing a M240B, smiled goofily. He was carrying several bullet belts, with a pack of C4 explosives strapped to his back. “I set up claymores all over the point, so now no one can set one hoof on it!”
The Engineer put a hoof to his head. “Dude, we told you this before, you can’t put down more than two claymores at a time! You didn't even capture the flag!”
“But can’t you do that with C4?”
“Yes, but not claymores!” Finally, he bucking gets it for once!
“Oh,” the Support replied. He put a hoof under his chin, and beamed with joy at a new revelation.
“Wait! Can I put down more claymores with the Explosive Specialization?” he yelled.
I swear, this kid is making one trot forward, two trots back, the Engi thought.
“Can we just get going?” the Medic interrupted. “I want to bash some bastard’s skull in now.”
“Yeah,” a new voice called. “I would greatly appreciate it if you guys would help me out!”
Button turned his eyes to face the newcomer. His mouth, unfortunately, couldn’t. It didn’t help that he could now see the U.S. Recon, clad in cloth that wrapped around his face with light frontal packs, trotting towards him. Now, his mouth could fit-
You know what, forget it.
“Hey, buddy!” The Engineer patted his teammate on the back. “What’s the situation?”
“We got Russians putting C4 on dirtbikes and driving them towards tanks,” informed the Recon.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, that sounds awesome! I wanna try! I wanna try!”
“Shut up, noob! You wouldn’t be able to blow up a target if it was a camping Recon!”
“Dude! What did I just say!”
“I swear…gonna freakin’…tear your heads…defibrillate you in the…”
All the while, Button sat with his mouth the size of a river. This is crazy. These guys shouldn’t be here, or exist for the matter. Maybe I’m just seeing things. That’s it, I’m hallucinating! Button smiled as he had finally solved the mystery. That smile dropped.
Shit, I’m hallucinating.
“So, we gonna head over to the point or what?” said the Engi.
“Didn’t the Recon say that there were C4 dirtbikes?” the Medic said. “We better get some armor first.”
“That’s not going to help. They’re too fast for us.”
“Why not put mines everywhere?” the Recon interrupted.
“Good call."
“Or how about claymores?” the Support interjected.
“Shut up, you don’t have a bipod on your knife yet, noob.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyways, we could just hold the warehouse all day.”
“Yeah, but eveypony’s gonna be trying to take that point. It’ll be a clusterfuck!” the Engi said.
“At least it won’t be as bad as the clusterfuck on Flag B of Operation Metro.”
“How about we kill the dirtbikers with defibrillators and repair tools?”
“I said shut up! Only trolls who have nothing better to do on the battlefield do that! We are men! We do not dishonor our enemies by blowing them up with C4 in a dishonorable manner! ”
“But it’s fun!”
“He’s got a good point,” said the Engineer, who jabbed his buddy in the arm. “Even though I’m pretty sure nopony in real life gets cardiac arrest from a defibrillator.”
“Or gets killed by a blow torch to the face,”
“Hey, it’s possible.”
“But improbable,” the Recon stated.
“Guys! Point. Needs capping. Now!” interjected the Medic. The dirtbikers had just captured the town center, and were pushing towards the next flag.
“Right!” agreed the Engi. “We need to get moving before the Town Center gets captured. Otherwise, this match is over.”
“So, how are we going to get there?” questioned the Recon.
“We could use those VDV Carts over there.”
The Engineer pointed westward. In front of his hoof were two VDV Carts.
“Sweet! Let’s grab ‘em!”
The squad took two steps towards the vehicles.
Just as they were taken by two teammates.
“Well, all right then.”
“How about that tank?” said the Support. Sure enough, a tank was ready to go.
“I’m driving!” said the Engi.
“No, I want to drive! You always drive!”
“You are always squad leader, so you might as well-“
While they argued, a competent, dedicated tank crew stole the armor, and took off.
“Oh, nevermind.”
Two jets remained in the center of the plaza.
“Wait, why do we need jets if we have pegasai on both teams?”
“Just grab them,” said the Engi.
“No, wait. Someone’s been camping them the whole game.”
“Fucking damnit.”
The downtrodden squad sat down while the pilots took off. The jet curled into the air, accelerating at subsonic speeds.
“So, what now?” As the Recon said this, the first jet that took off was bailed. The parachuter attempted to land on a mountainside. The second jet spiraled, performing barrel rolls and somersaults before coming back vertically towards the ground. Before it hit, the jet came up again only to crash into a cliff side.
“I dunno. We’ve only got twenty tickets left,” replied the Medic. Meanwhile, the parachuter landed on top of the mountain. After taking two steps, he was sent flying five thousand meters off the side. The killfeed read, “Bad Luck”.
“I guess we just wait for the match to end, then.”
The squad got comfortable, and waited.
“You know what I hate?”
“What?”
“M16A3 users.”
“Oh my gods, seriously? This again?”
“No, I don’t think the gun is overpowered. I just think it’s overused and a tryhard weapon," said the Engi
“Everybody knows that,” said the Recon.
“Well, everyone calls weapons with high rates of fire “tryhard” weapons. Remember when the M416 was OP?”
“Yeah, what were they thinking?”
“DICE does have some problems with weapon balancing.”
“Who could forget the M26 mass on the G3A3?” said the Medic.
“Oh, but the best one was the USAS with frag rounds,”
Everypony, except Button, who was too busy mesmerized by the squad’s sudden appearance, groaned. They took a breath, then laughed.
“Yeah, let’s hope they do better for Battleplains 4.”
“Mmm.”
There was silence. Not much was going on, since the match was about to end anyway.
“Hey, how many tickets did you say we had again?”
The Medic checked his killfeed watch. “Umm, twenty.”
“Twenty,” the Engi said casually. He leaned his head on his left hoof. He jerked up.
“Shit.”
“What?”
There was a creaking sound, louder than any other noise in the Ponyville square. Button, listening to their conversation, turned his head to follow a shadow that had appeared over the town. It was the one thing he least expected to see when Battleplains characters started showing up.
Towering above him was the falling remains of the Equestrian Border radio tower.
Button, who had been immobile the entire time the squad was present, finally picked himself up. He dashed towards Ponyville's center. From the length of the tower, he calculated that if he reached that area, he would be in the clear.
HIs hooves had reached their greatest velocity. It was a matter of luck now. Debris and cables began to crash around him, cratering the Ponyville market stalls and crushing some hapless fruit barrels. The surface of the tower was closing in on Button's behind. His ass would be first on the menu, then his body, then his head if he didn't reach the center!
Button was inches away from his destination. At last! his mind screamed. Salvation!
He was several feet from the center, however, when he was shot at by a Russian Support. Taking cover from the fire, Button cursed, "Fucking DICE! Who came up with suppression in the first place!" He attempted to peek out from behind the barrel he was using, but the blur effect distorted his vision. He covered his face with his arms.
The firing stopped. Button peeked out from behind his cover. The Russian was making a break from the danger he was just running from. Unfortunately, the Support was crushed by one of the standing platforms on the radio tower.
This new event took Button's mind off the current danger. When he realized his mistake, he looked up.
The cylinder accelerated towards Button’s head. He screamed like a filly.
Button opened his eyes. Taking both of his hooves from their cowering positions, he noticed that he was standing in the center of Ponyville.
Several ponies stared at him.
He felt shock, fear, terror, and embarrassment in one sitting. Just a hallucination. Button giggled to himself. He continued towards the Ponyville School House. As he did, however, he had a hard time trying to keep himself from guffawing like a maniac.
Same old desks, same old ponies, same stressed-out teacher. The familiar feel of the Ponyville school-house calmed Button’s nerves as he trotted to his seat.
See? Just a hallucination. That’s all! Button threw his backpack on his desk, simultaneously letting out a huge breath. At least nothing else too crazy will happen today.
He started to take out his homework. Suddenly, Button remembered what he was thinking about in the first place.
The gaming binge! Shoot, I got to tell my friends what happened last night!
Button turned to face his classmates behind him, Rumble and Pipsqueak.
“You guys are never going to believe what I did last night!”
Rumble’s eyes widened, but maintained a degree of cynicism. “Really? What did you do?”
Button grinned. “I pulled off the greatest gaming binge in Equestrian history!”
Pipsqueak and Rumbles’ mouths opened to say a few words, but none came.
Instead, uncontrollable bits of laughter came out.
“Pff-ha ha ha! What did you do, drink Hilly Dew all-night while playing Clop of Duty?” laughed Pipsqueak.
“Or was it Haylo?” Rumble remarked, finishing his braying with a wipe at his eye. “Don’t worry, we won’t make fun of you if it was Haylo.”
“No, you guys, it was not that game for foals!” Button retorted. “I’m talking about every other game except that one!”
“No way, you couldn’t have done that,” the pegasus-foal remarked.
“Nopony can pull that off,” answered Pip.
“But I did! I beat almost all of them! Assassin’s Steed, Tomb Raider: Daring Do Edition, Grand Theft Auto: Cantertrot Stories, all of them!“ Button stomped his forearms on his friends’ desks. “The craziest part is, I think I saw things because of it!”
His companions eyed him skeptically. “Things like, what?” Pip questioned.
“Like I saw real Battleplains stallions in the town center!”
“You sure you’re not going crazy?” inquired Rumble.
“I’m serious you guys! Now, I know it was a hallucination, but I think my gaming last night really caused me to see some crazy shi-“
“O.K., class!” said Cherilee. She put on the fakest smile that she could muster with her best Pinkie Pie impression.
“*sigh*” Button turned to face his teacher. “I’ll tell you guys later.”
“We have a new student coming over today from farther out! She hails from the South,” Cherilee continued. “Be nice to her, she’s got a tough attitude!”
Hmm. That’s nice to know, Button thought.
The teacher walked to the right of the classroom. She reached for the door handle, throwing it wide open.
“Say hello to your new classmate!”
Cherilee motioned for somepony to come in. “Don’t be shy, come on!”
Button looked towards the door. A hoof stepped through. The filly wore a checkered jacket. She carried a backpack, along with a pair of blue jeans. The look on her face was searching, careful. It was as if she was looking for something more out of life. Or something that eluded her vision. She scanned the room carefully. She didn't seem to notice other ponies were in the classroom, even Button.
Woah…she looks familiar. Nah, it couldn't be.
“Everypony!” Cherilee carefully got the attention of the classroom.
“This is Ellie.”
Button stared with an apparent look of awe on his face. The propeller-beanie on his head stopped spinning. His cap fell of his face. He was still staring.
Ellie started to trot around the classroom. She approached the first desk that was in front of her. Searching its contents, she found some scissors, a lottery ticket, and an advanced encyclopedia. She eyed the first item carefully, tossed away the second one. The third was peculiar to her. She flipped the cover open, eyeing a barcode section which stated the names of the previous owners of the book. Minty Clean, Doobart Dunderhead, Dinky Doo. Year Two Thousand Thirteen in the Year of Our Goddesses.
Goddesses. Huh. Ellie thought about the last time someone referred to the goddesses. Why did everyone believe that a being beyond any of their kind could save them from the cordyceps? The Princesses weren’t immune. Their power only spread the infection faster. Whatever healing they attempted only infected the individuals. It had been twenty years.
Twenty years since she had lost her mom. Riley. Sam. She was given the immunity too late. Too much time had been spent getting to the Firefly base. Ellie was not going to let the memories of the greatest ponies she had known fade away without any chance of proving that she could do something now. She would keep them alive. She would make things right.
“Ellie, you looking at something?”
A tall tan stallion with an aging beard trotted into the room. The green shirt he wore was beaten down, torn over the years. His jeans looked like they had been pried off a rotting body. On his back was a backpack stuffed with a shotgun. Strapped around his arm was a bow, his left forehoof carrying a snub-nose revolver.
“Nothing, Joel.” Ellie flipped through the pages. “Just getting some major character development done.”
“Nice,” he replied, completely oblivious towards the implications.
Joel walked over to the teacher’s desk. At this point, Button realized that he was alone in the classroom with a hardened, bitter survivor and a determined filly. Neither of the two noticed his presence. The colt turned around to face his friends. The desks that were once occupied were now subject to dust.
The survivor checked Cherilee’s desk drawers. He scavenged some tape, alcohol, and some gunpowder.
“Who keeps alcohol in a teacher’s desk?” Joel questioned.
“Who puts gunpowder in a desk?” returned the filly.
Joel smiled. He trotted over to Ellie. Peering over her shoulder, he observed the chapters she was reading.
“Gonna take that with you?”
“Yeah. I should learn something while we’re on the road.”
“Too bad you won’t be able to use that knowledge anywhere,” he replied.
“This will come in handy. Somehow.”
Her hoof stopped on a particular page.
“Hey! Look, Joel!”
“Give me a minute,” the stallion replied. He was by the bookshelves, picking off usable items one by one. Ellie took notice of the items he was grabbing.
“Isn’t it weird that we find alcohol, gunpowder, and scissors in the safest of places?”
“I never noticed.”
“The kids here must have been troublemakers.”
“This is a school for foals.” Joel motioned. “Look at the desks.”
“Still, you gotta admit we keep finding stuff in the weirdest of places.”
Joel paid no attention. He grabbed for the top shelf, not even extending his arms to fully grasp the items above. Somehow, they ended up in his hoof.
“How did you do that?”
“Do what?” he remarked as he dropped the items into his backpack.
“Grab things without even touching them.”
His eyelids shifted upward. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You just stuck your arms up and grabbed every item. You looked like you were doing an arm dance or something.”
“You sure that you’re immune?” Joel sat, looking at the floor for more supplies.
“Very funny.”
Ellie waited patiently for Joel to finish his scavenging, flipping pages further. He reached under every desk, every table. “I remembered something that I didn’t get to talk about earlier. Back when we watched that fight.”
“Yeah, the Fireflies and Hunters.” Ellie frowned. “Why didn’t you help the Fireflies?”
“We didn’t stand a chance. There were too many. Keeping you safe was more important. Besides, both sides had reinforcements.”
“There were only four of the Hunters, though.”
“Yeah, but they kept coming back with someone to replace the last teammate. Same with the Fireflies.”
“You’d think that the Fireflies and Hunters would just send all of their team down instead of replacing a dead pony every ten seconds.” Ellie smiled to herself. “Sounds like a dumb tactic for both sides.”
Meanwhile, Button tried to comprehend what was happening. Okay, now I’m stuck in a presumably dilapidated Ponyville, in a deserted schoolhouse, with two survivors from The Last of Equestria. Great. He breathed faster. Just a hallucination, he thought. Just a hallucination.
Joel stood up, finished with his scavenging. He trotted over to her seat. “Some pretty weird things happened that time. Remember when one of the Fireflies took a shot at a Hunter behind a wall?”
“Yeah, his buddy called him out.”
“But his buddy didn’t tell him where he went,” he pondered. He took the seat left of Ellie. “How did he know where he was?”
“It’s like they can see each other through walls,” she joked. “There were a lot of ridiculous things that happened that time. Remember whenever one of the groups shot another pony in the head, the poor pony just fell over and crawled?”
“Yeah. How can that happen when they can still stab each other in the throat?”
“They also kept getting weapons I’m sure they didn’t pick up. How did that guy get that shotgun from out of the blue?”
“I’m not wondering about the shotgun. I’m curious to see how he kept that flamethrower hidden so well.”
“Did they really need to keep going over to the stragglers to finish them off?”
The two shivered at those memories. They were definite examples of over-application of force.
“It didn’t help when you intervened. Why did you wait?”
“I would have let the Fireflies beat the Hunters, but I guess I was wrong. I only took the best possible opportunity.”
“It’s a wonder that they didn’t see me while you were sneaking around.”
“Especially because you were running everywhere in their line of sight,” he joked.
“You were doing the sneaking, I was the distraction,” she countered. “The plan worked well, even though I wasn’t supposed to do that. It was pretty cool when you predicted a guy was coming around that street corner.”
“I was listening well.”
“You must have pretty good hearing,” Ellie returned to the page she wanted Joel to see. “Maybe you might be psychic. You already knew how many Hunters were out there even though you hadn’t looked around the corner.”
“Again, good listening skills.”
“Those are ridiculous listening skills for an old man.”
“You insulting me?”
“It was a compliment.” She pointed to a particular paragraph. “Take a look at this.”
The paragraph was dedicated to the anatomy of fireflies.
“Awesome symbol they chose.”
“I’ve seen crazier groups do the same thing. All of the extremist militia groups back then were all the same.”
“Extremist? Seriously?” she criticized.
“I’ve just seen similar groups back then. We called them, ‘domestic terrorists’.”
“So, are the Fireflies domestic terrorists?”
“Not really. If they’ll do anything for a cure, they’re at least desperate extremists.”
“That’s just a euphemism for the same word.”
“’Euphemism.’ Heh, you’re smarter than I thought.”
“Do I look stupid?” Ellie looked at one illustration on the page. “Woah! There’s a lot of fireflies here!”
“Yeah. I used to see a lot of them in my backyard. Sarah and I used to catch them.”
Ellie widened her gaze. She was surprised to hear that. He was surprised that she was.
“No way! You really caught them?”
“Yeah, it was easy. You just need a clear jar.”
“Did you have to bait them or something? Did you need a pheromone to attract them?”
“No. They just-“ Joel waved his arms to demonstrate “-came from everywhere.”
“Woah.”
“It was a sight. Something I miss actually.” Joel loved those days, spending time with Sarah. Late night T.V. Soccer practice. Bedtime stories. No longer.
“There’s no way they can actually come out like that. That’s like Bill came out wide in the open.” She snickered.
“Ellie.”
“Sorry.” She shut the book. After several seconds, they got up. Ellie gave Joel one more look.
“Were they really like that?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Swear to me, then.” Ellie was very interested in this topic. Joel was didn’t see her attitude on such a trivial subject coming. “Swear to me that everything you said to me about the fireflies is true.”
He paused. Ellie was making this question out to be one of the most important ones she wanted answered. His reply would be crucial. It was as if he was deciding the fate of ponykind itself. He couldn’t lie.
Joel said, “I swear.”
They stared at each other. The answer was one that would define their future relationship, though it wasn’t the most important response.
“Okay.”
A few more seconds passed. They looked down the door, preparing to leave.
Click-click-click-click
“Aww, no.” Joel pushed Ellie away from the door. The two took cover behind Cherilee’s desk. They knew what was coming.
So did Button. He was less fortunate than they were, however. As he got up, the known creature stepped into the classroom. A Clicker. What remained of the butcher’s body was now infected with spore-containing growths. His head was now a mouth split down the middle, made for tearing pony flesh apart.
“Hey, I always thought their faces looked like v-“
“Shhh!” Joel whispered back to her. The monster trotted over to the desk. It’s hearing attempted to detect the three survivors in the room, one of which was not seen by Joel or Ellie. But Button was sure that it could hear him.
I need to get to the door, he thought. Button began to press his hooves on the floor in front of him, making sure that the floor didn’t creak. He tiptoed three steps. Button noticed the outlet he was provided as the Clicker edged closer towards Cherilee’s desk. I can just leave, and these two can deal with the Clicker. They’ve got it easy
His hoof hit something. A tin can. The Clicker’s head jerked to face Button. Noticing their new exit, Joel and Ellie tiptoed towards the exit.
Oh, come on! Button thought. The Clicker now evidently knew where he was. Following his breathing, it approached him at an accelerated pace.
Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream! The Clicker grabbed him, swinging its mouth around to rip his neck open. He tried to yell something, but the creature covered his mouth as it fed on his blood.
Button squirmed in its grip.
“Button, calm down!” Cherilee was having a difficult time getting him to sit. He went on about some ponies named Joel and Ellie. Then he was yelling about a monster with a huge slit down its head. Ridiculous.
“Button! Sit down!” Cherilee yelled as she forced him into his seat. She didn’t want to resort to extreme measures, but right now, she would rather be going over the results on her dating site than teaching this class. She put her hoof to his face, albeit at a incredibly fast rate.
Button swung his head around. “What? Where? Clicker!” he cried. He tried to scramble out of his seat, but Cherilee held him. He looked at the pony grabbing then. Then he turned around. Eyeing his surroundings, he eventually came to the correct conclusion where he was.
“Oh,” he muttered.
“Let’s not have another outburst like this again, young man!” Cherilee told him sternly. She returned to her desk.
“Woah, Button. You okay?” Rumble asked.
“Yeah. For a second there, we thought you were going crazy!”
“Well, what was I doing?” Button rudely inquired.
His two friends pointed at a spot on the floor. Button looked. The spit and fluid gave a clear indicator.
