“Hey, Mr. Confederate Man.”
“For the millionth time, the name’s Jeff.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want people to remember me until pay day. What’s up?”
“How come you only got one arm?”
Jeff Foxworthy looked at the sewn-shut sleeve of his wool-grey coat. “Oh, no, I got both my arms. See?” Jeff’s other arm wiggled between the buttons of his jacket.
Derpy jumped back in surprise. “Is your arm supposed to come out of your tummy?”
The human sighed. He took off his jacket and waved both arms around in the air. “See, I’m normal . . . kind of. I’m only pretending to have one arm; it’s part of my costume.”
The pegasus frowned at the human. “That is so weird. Why would you do that? Why would you dress up as a one-armed guy?”
“Cause this one-armed guy I’m pretending to be was awesome, until he was shot by his own guys by accident.”
Derpy blinked her disfigured eyes. “If he was shot by his own guys, he doesn’t sound that great.”
“Hey, don’t be disrespecting Stonewall Jackson. I’m not asking you why you chose a Wonderbolt costume when you have the hoof-eye coordination of a toaster.”
At this the pegasus lowered her head and slumped her shoulders. She looked at the earthen floor and didn’t say a thing as they continued down the winding path of the maze.
Jeff silently swore at himself. “Hey, Derp, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something that stupid. You’d make a great Wonderbolt.”
Derpy lifted her head up to regard the redneck. “Really?”
“Absolutely. Flying fast and hard and doing all that acrobatic crap is overrated. You don’t need it. I mean back there, you took one look at that map and took charge. Because of you, we haven’t run into anything bad yet. You should be a Wonderbolt scout.”
Derpy’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks. I read a lot of maps with my job.”
Jeff nodded. “You’re a better mail man then my guy. I think he ran out of Kleenex a week ago because my newspaper was pretty freaking slimy.”
The pony laughed. “I’ve done that before. A muffin usually calms them down.”
“Those better be some dang good muff--, whoa!”
Jeff and Derpy had just turned a corner in the corncob-lit maze. In the center of their path was an enormous picnic table. There was so much food that the table groaned under the weight. Above them towered a flag pole, and written on the white banner flapping in the gentle breeze was the word “checkpoint.”
The redneck started salivating when he sniffed the aroma of the smorgasbord. “Holy crap! There’s more grub here than a Sunday Golden Corral Buffet.” Jeff nearly ran to an open chair, took his hat off, and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Lord, for this bounty you have put before me and my friend. I pray that none of it is poisoned, and if it is, I pray that it at least tastes good. We also ask You for safe and swift passage out of this maze for us and our buddies. And dear Lord, if you could find it in your heart to drop a fifty-gallon drum of ‘Weed B Gone’ on Danny, I would be very grateful. In Jesus name we pray. Amen.”
“Who’s Danny?”
“I’ll tell ya later. Dig in. We need to keep our strength up, if we’re going to finish this maze.”
Derpy looked at the picnic table skeptically. “I don’t know, Mr. Confederate Man. This looks kind of fishy to me. We should probably keep . . . ”
Jeff pointed down towards the other end of the table. “Hey, Derp, they got muffins.”
Faster than a bolt of lightning, the pretend Wonderbolt darted past Jeff and wolfed down the tasty morsels quicker than a lamb dropped in a tiger pit.
The human dove in with equal gusto, devouring plates of grits, water melon, tater tots, and fried salmon. Jeff frowned, in-between mouthfuls. The only thing to drink was milk. He shrugged and knocked backed several glasses of cow-juice.
Minutes later, Jeff let out an enormous yawn. He patted his stomach and looked over at his pegaus companion. The pretend Wonderbolt had fallen asleep on top of the table, surrounded by small mountains of desserts. The human was about to stand up and wake the pegasus but found that he could barely keep his eyes open. “I suppose a quick cat-nap wouldn’t hurt.”
Later
“Mr. Confederate Man, Mr. Confederate Man, wake up. I think we got a problem.”
Jeff groaned. He replied groggily, “Spray it with WD-40 and slap on some ductape. You should be good for another fifty miles.”
“Uh, if you say so. But I think you’d better take a look at this as soon as you get up,” Derpy replied nervously.
The pretend Confederate sighed. He blinked open his eyes and looked straight up into the mail mare’s face. Slowly the human sat up and looked around. “What in the hell---o, there.” At that moment, Jeff noticed two things in quick succession. First, the picnic area had been burnt to a crisp. Everything had turned to ash; the tables, the chairs, the flagpole, even the food had been cremated. The second thing he saw was the enormous hole seared into the cornstalk wall of the maze.
Jeff slowly got up from the ground and dusted the ashes off his grey costume. He made his way over to the new exit and gingerly stepped through the gap onto a new pathway. “Derpy, are there any napalm infused muffins you want to tell me about, or was this mess here when you woke up?”
Derpy shook her head. “I didn’t do this. Mayor Mare won’t let me make those kinds of muffins anymore, court order. Somepony burnt everything and made that hole in the maze when we were sleeping.”
The human took a closer look at the burn marks and saw that they were still warm and simmering. Jeff shuddered. “Let’s get the heck out of here before whatever did this comes back.”
The pegasus nodded enthusiastically and followed Jeff. “I think this new gap actually helps us. Eventually we would have ended up here, but it would have taken longer.”
“I’ll take it,” declared the Confederate.
The pair began walking down the new path.
“Something’s bothering me,” said Jeff.
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that we slept through a pyromaniac burning down everything around us? I mean this bucker even incinerated the food we were eating and then left! Who the heck does that?”
“Somepony who’s not very hungry,” answered Derpy.
“True, but still . . .” Jeff paused. “Do you hear that?”
The noise got closer, and soon the redneck could make out that it was sound of absolute terror coming their way. “AHHHHH! Get away from me! I taste awful! Go find Larry and chomp on him!”
“What the f---?” Jeff started to ask.
Rounding one of the corners of the maze was Bill Engvall. The cowboy was covered in a film of purplish dust and was being chased by a pony Jeff recognized. The Confederate was impressed. He had never seen Bill run that fast before. DJ Pon-3 could barely keep up.
Bill tried to change course when he saw Jeff and Derpy standing in his way, but instead, he lost his footing and tumbled head over heels into the dirt of the maze. Rushing forward, Jeff pinned his still screaming friend to the ground. “Bill! Calm down! What’s gotten into you? Who glitter bombed ya?”
For a reply, Bill walloped Jeff across the jaw with a left hook, sending the Confederate sprawling into the cornstalks. Before Engvall could stand and flee, Derpy flew, into the human’s stomach, knocking the wind out of the cowboy. Seeing an opening, Vinyl galloped forward and planted her hooves on the screaming redneck’s back.
“Jeff! Larry! Help! Its got me! The bucking monster’s got me! Get your asses over here!” yelled Bill.
The human was thrashing and struggling so much that the ponies could barely keep him grounded. Looking over to the other human, Vinyl said through gritted teeth, “We gotta get that sparkly stuff off of him. It’s worse than acid.”
Jeff sat up and blinked. He shook his head to stop his skull from ringing, but he obeyed. Taking his canteen in hand, he ran over to the cowboy and anointed him with an amber liquid. Bill fought for a few more moments while the magic dust was washed from his person. Eventually, the redneck stopped struggling and looked up at the Confederate. “Jeff? What the buck is goin on? What happened to all the monsters? Where’s Vinyl?”
Seeing that her human partner was back to his old self, the white unicorn released him. “Right here. Sorry about putting you in a bind like that, but you were tripping some major balls there.”
Engvall frowned at the DJ. A second later it dawned on him. “Are you saying that pixie dust was causing me to cheese my brains out?”
“Oh, wow! You must be very allergic to dairy products. I’ve never heard of a whoman being that allergic to cheese,” declared Derpy.
Bill stared dumbly at Derpy while both Jeff and DJ Pon-3 face palmed at the same time.
“No, sweetheart, that’s no- . . . .” Slowly Bill took a sniff at his soaked wool jacket. “Did you dump Crown Royal whiskey on me?” asked Engvall.
“Yeah, damn it. What? You thought I was going to pack water to Discord’s maze? I was going to crack this open for when the crap really breaks the fan, so I wouldn’t give the slightest of bucks.”
Jeff felt a tug on his arm. He looked down to see Derpy motioning him to come closer. The redneck knelt down so the pony could whisper to him.
“Uh, Mr. Confederate Man, I hate to interrupt, but I’m in a race to see which pony can make it out of the maze with their whoman first. Remember?”
Jeff took off his grey kepi and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced over at Bill and Vinyl. They looked like they were having a conversation very similar to what he and Derpy were discussing. “Yeah, but Derp, I think maybe we should stick together with D-J Pon 3 and Bill on this one. I’ve seen some pretty scary stuff tonight that you haven’t. I know it’s just a corn maze, but I’d feel a lot better if we had some help. I’m just not as brave as you are.”
The Wonderbolt looked very disappointed as she muttered, “Okay, you’re probably right.”
Feeling a twinge of guilt, Jeff said quickly, “Hey, how about this? If you don’t win you can have my prize for tonight. How does that sound?”
“That sounds wonderful,” declared the happy pegasus. “But are you sure? I mean, that doesn’t sound very fair to you.”
The Confederate waved his hand dismissively. “Naw, it’s okay. I’m mainly here to help Fluttershy. The prize is just icing on the cake. My wife probably wouldn’t let me keep it anyway. Do you want me to tell you what it is? You might not like it. It’s kind of . . . weird.”
Derpy shook her head and began walking. “No, thanks. I want it to be a surprise. After all, it’s Nightmare Night. Things are supposed to be weird. ”
Jeff grinned back nervously and gulped. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he said mostly to himself. The redneck felt a hand on his shoulder and a whisper close to his ear.
“Did you just promise that pony the pickled arm of Stonewall Jackson?” asked Bill with a hint of disgust in his voice.
“Maybe . . . I had to give her something. She wanted to split from you two.”
Bill sighed. “Yeah, Vinyl wanted to do the same thing.”
“What did she guilt trip you into giving up?”
“I have to ask Discord for a mobile wub house.”
“What the hell is a wub house?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid to ask. Come on. Let’s find Larry and get out of here.”
**********************************************************************
“Hey, Berry, where’s your costume?” asked Larry. He giggled, “Aren’t you afraid Nightmare Moon will eat your drunk ass?”
“Heh, that’s kids stuff . . . Hic. If Nightmare Moon wanted to gobble me up, she’d die of alcohol poisoning.”
The Cable Guy nodded. “Can’t argue with that. I bet even a skeeter would get pulled over for Flying Under the Influence if he sucked on you.”
“Oh, Hardee, Har, Har. I’ll have you know, sir, that we earth ponies can hold our alcohol better than any pegasus or . . . that other kind of pony that uses sorcery. Hic.”
“You mean magic?”
“Yeah, whatever. The point is I am capable of having another drink or fifty, if I wanted it.”
Larry snorted and rolled his eyes as they rounded a bend in the maze. He was about to reply when something out of the ordinary caught his attention. All of the corn stalks were burnt at shoulder-level. A lot of the corncob lights had even been turned to glowing popcorn that lit up the ground. Berry Punch shrugged and popped one of the morsels into her mouth.
“You’ve got more balls than I do, Berry. How’s it taste?”
“Like crap. But it’s pretty warm, and I’m hungry.”
At that moment Larry heard the distinct crunching sound of something stepping on some popcorn. He whirled around to see a friendly-looking Golden Retriever panting in anticipation. Larry clutched at his heart and sighed in relief. “Where the hell did you come from, little guy? You’re quieter than a shark in a snuggie, cause I sure didn’t hear ya come up behind us.”
The Redneck reached out to scratch the canine behind the ear but hesitated. “Hey, didn’t the sphinx say something about a burning dog?”
Berry Punch looked the dog over and patted it on the head. “He probably just wandered in the maze. See? No flammable pooch here.”
The moment Berry started patting the dog, the canine’s fur ignited in a spectacular ball of fire. Berry recoiled in surprise, jerking her hoof back before it could be burned. The dog began to grow and became more wolf-like with each passing second. Gone was the yellow hair of the Golden Retriever, burnt away by the devouring inferno. Before Larry and Berry’s eyes stood a massive hell-hound, the size of a small truck.
Larry shook his head in disbelief and disgust. “Oh, come on, that’s not fair. That mutt wasn’t on fire a minute ago. How in God’s name were we supposed to know not to pet it? If I ever see another rat with wings asking me riddles, I’m gonna put a 45 slug through its head.”
Thinking through her alcohol-fogged mind, Berry Punch picked up a burnt corncob and whistled. “Come on, boy. Get the stick.”
The flaming pooch let out a low, threatening growl.
Larry slowly backed away. “Golden Retrievers might be dumb, Berry, but that thing can eat a physics teacher and shit out Einstein, I’ll bet.”
“So what do we do?” the pony asked mirroring the Redneck’s retreat.
Before Larry could reply, the huge hound let out an ear-splitting roar.
“Bucking run!”
And with that, the two mazerunners bolted deeper into the maze, the hell-hound right behind them, setting the maze afire with every step.