In the spring hills above Huntersfield a familiar trio of middle-aged stallions wandered.
Over the months, some unknown facts about Helmet Listener came to light. With the return of Mistmane to the Eastern Settlements she gave her approval to declassify some top-secret operation files. Helmet much to the surprise of Foggy Dew did serve in the Royal Guard. In the Second Regiment of Hoof, a little after Cold Steel’s time. He took part in a jungle campaign to help liberate some of the Settlements from rebel groups. Foggy Dew claimed to have also served in the jungle with the Third Hoof and campaign medals were sent out accordingly.
But on the homeward front Helmet remained much as ever. A scruff fur trapper, and recently due to helping Fluttershy with Major Field’s training ground, a humane pest-control pony. As part of this, he started wearing wellington boots on his back legs to stop rats and the like from scurrying up them.
North Sentry, Flash’s father, brought out his old bicycle. The cycling fade never caught on compared to scooters. Bikes were generally owned by foals as toys. But cycling about the hills saved time.
One afternoon the three milled down a country lane when Helmet went off to the side to a stile. “Hang on a minute.” He called and groaned, “I got something sharp in my welly,”
Foggy smirked unimpressed. “It would have to be sharp to survive that.”
Helmet sat on the stile and removed his left boot. In doing so, he revealed a bright pink soak on his hoof. North and Foggy approached astonished. North whistled. “Wow!” he commented as Foggy laughed. “It’s sharp all right is that!”
“By Celestia,” Foggy said. “You could frighten peacocks with a sock like that,” Helmet pointed to it. “They were reduced.”
“Well,” North said, “I’m glad to here it. I wouldn’t like to see them on full power. What are going to do when your battery’s gone?”
Helmet, in the middle of shaking his welly to dislodge the offending item, paused and looked to his sock. He pointed to it again. “They’re not electric,” Foggy replied, “They are from here,” he watched with revolution as Helmet peered muzzle first into the boot and muttered to North, “I don’t know how he can do that without using soap,”
Helmet looked up offended. “I’ve washed my hooves,” he said. “I wash my hooves every time I put new socks on.”
“Every time?” North asked.
“Well,” Helmet said, before hissing a laugh. “Nearly every time.”
His friend smirked and looked off as Helmet put his hoof down his welly. He pulled it out with something in his grip. “Hey, look at that!” Foggy quickly responded, “No I don’t think we’ll bother,” he shielded his eyes.
“That’s a flint for a lighter is that,” Helmet said. He took a handkerchief from under his necktie and started rubbing the flint. “It’s very mysterious is that,”
“You’re absolutely right,” Foggy said. “I was just thinking to myself,” he pointed “That is the most mysterious handkerchief I have ever seen,” Helmet put the flint in the handkerchief and stuffed it back into his tie. “Oh, me other one’s in the wash,”
Foggy glanced to North with some confusion, then he asked Helmet, “The wash?” Helmet did not answer instead he clarified his earlier comment, “I mean it’s mysterious because I don’t have a lighter. So, what’s a flint doing in my welly?” North suggested something, “You’d better look in the other welly, you might find the lighter.”
Instead, Helmet put his boot back on and stood up. He pounded it on the ground a couple of times. He smiled. “Ah, that’s better,” as they resumed their country stroll, and as North pushed his bicycle, he commented to Foggy, “Did you notice how dark it went when he put that soak back in? Quite a rare astronomical event that. Total eclipse of the soak,”
They came to a stone barn on a hill, which allowed them the chance to have a rest. Helmet still went on, “You’d think it’s going to just be another ordinary day, and then suddenly! You find a flint in your welly,”
Foggy sarcastically commented, “Good job there wasn’t a spark. It could have blown you’re hoof off,”
North decided to change the subject, “You know, Pinkie Pie mentioned this to me and I have to say I agree. If there’s no guiding hoof behind the universe, how come bananas are just the right shape for your mouth?”
Indeed, the trio rested to have a snack of bananas. Foggy added from his own experience, “You couldn’t get bananas in the Eastern jungles, the natives creatures would maul you before you got close. The orangutans especially,” Helmet piped up with his own comment from his past, “You couldn’t get Lily Gift either,” he threw his peal away and continued, “I know, I tried. She was Wonderbolt mad! Worse than Rainbow Dash. You hadn’t got a chance if you were wearing khaki,”
“Not even scruffy khaki?” North asked.
“No,” Helmet replied. “And I was very good a scruffy khaki. Mind you, it was scruffy when you got it.” Foggy sighed. “You were supposed to press a few creases into it,”
“Oh, that’s great ain’t it!” Helmet groaned. “You going to go out a die for them, and you got to press your suit for the privilege!” he slumped. North swallowed. “Dying a lot around Hack Cob, were they?” he asked, referring to the small island Helmet got stationed during the liberation campaign.
“Only for bananas,” Foggy hazarded. Helmet looked at him indigent. “That’s not the point. I didn’t know I wasn’t going to die, did I? They gave me crossbow, and a spear, I thought, hello, hello, this is not for picking your teeth with. There I was, with a crossbow and a spear, and in civvy street they had me up for keeping a few ferrets,” he slumped again.
Foggy with his mouth full asked, “Well you didn’t think they were going to send you’re your ferrets after the enemy, did you?”
North brightened up. “My word! That could have flushed Sky King and his Branch out of their bunker,” referring to a cultic and monastic schism of the Silver Enlightenment hiding out on a table top mountain in the deserts of Saddle Arabia, North and his division of the First Hoof tried to arrest them for sexual abuse and illegal weapons violation. Sadly, and horrifyingly the Branch preferred death to surrender and took matters into their own hooves. North spent about a week in mournful prayer for them. Now a days North found it so awful he needed to make fun of it, what else could you do to cope?
So, he laughed as he continued, “I like it, yeah,” he mockingly went all hush-hush, “The secret war of Helmet Listener,” Foggy remained unflappable and commented, “The day of the ferret,”
Helmet rolled his eyes. “Eat your banana,” Foggy replied by showing his empty peel, “All gone,”
“Well that’s life,” North said calmly. “Suddenly it’s high summer and your banana’s all gone,”
Helmet went back to an earlier point in the conversation. “I should have been born a Pegasus, then I could have joined the Wonderbolts, and had a tour of ops on,” he then whispered, “Lily Gift,” as he hissed his cheeky laugh, Foggy added, “Luna, she was ugly,”
“Ah,” North said, still get through his banana. “But only from the front,” he nodded to Helmet. “And as we’ve now learned, in conflict he never went near the front,”
“I tried for a reserved occupation,” Helmet said. Foggy nodded. “Well, yeah, there was no-pony more reserved about taking up an occupation than you,” Helmet once more glared at Foggy.
Down the road the three rode. North sat in the seat and pedalled. Helmet hung on sitting on the luggage carrier on the back. And Foggy balanced on the handle bars.
After the bike swivelled for the nth time Helmet asked, “Who’s steering?” Foggy gently nodded back to North. “Well, he’s steering,” North turned hysterical fast and called back immediately, “I thought you were steering!” Helmet then shouted, “Well some-pony better start steering!”
The bicycle disappeared around a bend.
CRASH!
In the café at Huntersfield Helmet swung the door open. North passed the door with as squeaking and stubbornly sticking bicycle. He propped up the bike by the window and followed the limping Foggy.
The trio practically fell into chairs. North rubbed the back on his neck. “You know,” he muttered. “I’ve been thinking. We’re going have to get three bikes,”
Foggy blinked. “Bicycles? For each of us?” when North nodded Foggy asked, “You do realise how rare bicycles for full grown ponies are?”
From the seemingly empty counter came a friendly shout, “I’ll be with you in a minute,” the three of them looked about. North commented, “That didn’t sound like Ivy,”
Indeed, from the counter stood a, very tall, and board, workhorse sized, adolescent stallion. An off-white coat, a yellowish-brown and maroon mane with straight-forward purple highlights. On one hoof he wore a leather band with metal studs. His cutie mark looked like a length of chain in a constrictor knot.
North and Helmet backed up and grabbed each other nervously.
The young, large stallion smiled warmly. “I was just picking up some broken glass,” he took out a piece of paper. Read it. Looked back and smiled again. “Hello,” he leaned towards them slightly. “Can I be off,” he paused and quickly checked the paper again, “of service?” he smiled and nodded again.
Helmet broke from North and nudged Foggy. “What is it?” he whispered. Foggy glanced from Helmet to the new stallion and back before suggesting, “Ask him,”
“Thee ask him,” Foggy looked back to the young stallion nervously. “No,” he justified it with, “I’m a bit worried by that broken glass,”
North whispered, “He’s very big to be asking,”
The young stallion looked out the window and blinked. “Is that a bicycle on the window?” he left the counter. Squeezed through the shop. Walked up to the bicycle. And with one hoof lifted it up and examined it. The trio watched amazed. He walked back in. “Looks like your front set forks been bent,” he looked to the paper again. “But she never said anything about ponies bringing bikes.”
North gulped. “Who never said?”
“Me Auntie Ivy,” he smiled and nodded jovially. “I’ve started working for me Auntie Ivy,”
Helmet smiled. “He’s a bouncer!” he turned to a nervously laughing North. “She’s employing a bouncer!”
“No,” Ivy’s nephew said happily. “I’m not a bouncer,” he leaned him. “I’m a waitress,”
North and Helmet glanced at each other. “Wow!” North said. “That’s some waitress,” Ivy’s nephew then frowned. “No, I tell a lie, I’m not a waitress,” he took the bit of paper again and read it. “No, I’m a, General Assistant,” he nodded smiling again. “And they said I’d never get anywhere when I was at school,”
Foggy turned to the other two. “Yes, well,” he said relieved. “What are we hanging back for? He’s only a lad,” North still remained nervous. “There’s enough material for two lads,”
Helmet plucked up courage and gingerly approached the colt. He gestured with his hoof and Ivy’s nephew leaned down as close to Helmet’s eye level as possible. The pest controller asked, “What’s the name?” the young stallion frowned and said quietly, “I’m called Crusher, me Mom said I have this really terrific grip, even as a new-born,” Helmet started backing up.
North stood up and crept to the door. Foggy narrowed his eyes at him. “Where are you going?”
“Well,” North said. “You heard him,” he eyes darted to Crusher. “I mean suppose he gets nasty because no-pony here is a really big tipper,” Helmet suddenly appeared by North and nodded. “Aye, no-pony here’s a big tipper!”
“Pull yourself together,” Foggy said getting up. “I admit he’s big, but he’s amiable.”
“Yeah,” North said. “But some-pony like that could like you to death!”
“Give the lad a chance,” Foggy said. “He just needs a firm hoof,” the two stepped out of Foggy’s way. “After you,” Helmet said. Foggy stood up straight, nodded and walk up to the counter. “Now then,” he began, “young fellow-me-lad. Let’s have a little bit of this, General Assistance, shall we?” he chuckled as he looked back to the others. He returned to Crusher and gave his orders, “We want three teas, all with milk, two with one, and one with two, sugars that is,”
Crusher just stood there smiling. Foggy tilted his head. “Well come on,” he ordered. “Chop-chop. Three teas, all with milk, two with one, and one with two sugars,” Crusher smiled twitched slightly. His hoof took Foggy’s scarf and pulled him closer. Smiling politely, he asked slowly, “How many teas?”
“Crusher?” exclaimed a voice from behind. The shook caused the young stallion to let go. Foggy coughed and touched his throat as he returned to North and Helmet, the two trying hard to keep from laughing.
Ivy walked out of the kitchen. “What are you doing?” and then she pointed it him, “And where’s your overall?” he replied honestly, “I feel such a jessie in that white frock,” Ivy sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not a frock, it’s an overall. You look very smart in your overall. Ask any-pony,” she pointed to the kitchen. “Now go and put it on,” as Crusher went inside Ivy took the counter and looked to the three sternly.
Foggy approach cautiously. “I am to understand madam, that you are employing that,” he pointed to the kitchen, “um, that,”
North called over, “Amiable young follow? Eh?” he chuckled. Foggy completed his question, “On a regular basis?”
“He’s learning the business.” Ivy stated. The kitchen door opened, and Crusher stepped out in an extra-large pair of white overalls, rather tight on him and with the collar askew. “I am!” he said happily. “I’m learning the business.”
Foggy backed up. “Luna, the Zesty Gourmand Armoured Division!”
Crusher walked over to sort out the chairs the trio vacated. “I just wish I didn’t have to learn it in a frock,” he looked to his aunt. “A really tight frock.” Ivy quickly came up to him. “I told you, you look very smart in your overall. It’s important to make an impression,”
Helmet chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry Ivy,” he said and pointed to Foggy, “he’s made an impression,”
“Yes,” Ivy said. “Well, that’s good enough for learn in,” she then talked slowly to her nephew. “But when I’m satisfied with your progress, we’ll buy you a bigger overall,” Crusher smiled and as Ivy walked back to the counter, he started sorting the chairs. Helmet smiled and tapped him on the shoulder. Just for fun he presented his bicep. Crusher did so too, showing his to be, though trapped in the shelves, a whole lot bigger. Crusher then reared up. Carefully put his front hooves in position and lifted Helmet off the ground.
Ivy came back and scolded him. “Don’t frighten the customers Crusher,” she softened slightly when he shuffled his back hoof slightly. “Now, why don’t you go around the back and get paint and supplies for the booking? I’ll handle these three,” Crusher nodded and went to the kitchen. Once gone, Ivy took Helmet, a chair and plonked him down into it. “Sit down and don’t do anything stupid. A tall order I know,” she walked back to the counter and looked to Foggy and North. “Now, what do you want, and who’s paying?”
After getting their teas the trio sat around the table. Every so often, Crusher would pass by carrying thing upstairs. North took a sip. “You know,” he began, “Once you get used to him. Crusher get a nice chap,” Helmet nodded. “I bet he’s going to be fun,” he chuckled. North nodded. “He represents one of those great paradoxes of life, especially in this area of the world. Those ponies who are big and strong, often aren’t violent. I imagine both of you have come across it in your Royal Guard days,”
Foggy answered first, “I haven’t. But that’s primarily because the Third Hoof never recruited the big and strong types, we kept the tradition of the Commandos, stealth rather than strength.” Helmet on the other hoof nodded. “I’ve seen it, a few of the bigger lads were like that,”
North continued. “And then there’s local big lads. Big MacIntosh, Cipher and Bulk Biceps, in Bulk’s case he isn’t destructive on propose, it’s all purely by accident. They’re not violent, they don’t need to be,” he glanced to the window again. “But getting back to my earlier point. I think it would be best if we got bikes from the each of us,”
Foggy shook his head. “And as I pointed out, where are we going to find bicycles?” North hummed. “Well,” he said. “I imagine Filthy Rich may have an idea.”
In Barnyard Bargains Muffins read out the first few items of his shopping list. Filthy Rich nodded and walked over to the second of the shop. He struck up a conversation, “You do get through a lot of polish and disinfectant Muffins,” the Post Mistress smiled. “Dauntless does love to keep his armour shiny and clean,” Rich put the item on the counter. “What next then?”
“Well, I want some soup,”
“One tin of soup, thank you Muffins. Large or small?”
“Large,” Rich nodded and started walking over to where the large tins sat.
“No, wait,” Muffins said. “Can I see what you’ve got with small tins please,” Rich nodded and stopped at the smaller tins. “We’ve got Okra, Mushroom, Pumpkin or Tomato,”
“Okra,” Rich nodded and reached for one.
“No, I’d better take tomato,”
“Tomato?”
“Yes,” Rich took a tomato down and began walking to the counter.
“Unless you’ve got,” as Muffins paused Rich turned around and walk back to the shelf. Muffins finished her question, “Minestrone?”
“Minestrone Muffins? That’s a bit exotic,” he looked at the small soup. He shook his head. “No, I haven’t got a small tin, I’ll only have a large tin,” Muffins looked a little deflated. Rich explained, “I can’t cut them in half Muffins. It all flops out you see. I’ll tell you what I will do, I’ll sell you a large tin, but I’ll only charge you for two small ones,” he took a large tin and put it with other items. “Anything else?”
“Well,” Muffins said unsure.
The shop door opened. Helmet got pulled back by Foggy Dew. “Steady on you. I’ll do the talking.”
“All right,” Helmet said. They two, followed by North Sentry. The fur trapper called over, “How do Filthy?” Rich nodded and turned to Muffins. “Why don’t you make your mind up Muffins while I service those three?” she nodded, and the proprietor walked over. “Morning Helmet, Mr Dew, Your Grace,”
Foggy paused and turned to North. “What does he mean Your Grace?”
“Well,” North scratched the back of his head. “When Flash married Twilight Princess Celestia made me a Duke, of Connemara. It’s standard procedure apparently, dates back the Unicorn monarchy, if a royal marries a commoner, then the commoner’s family is elevated to nobility. Night Light is the Duke of Kirkby-in-Feral,”
Rich smiled as he gave Helmet a pack of cigars and a box of matches. “Really? We’ve sale Feral mint cake if you’re interested,”
Foggy still looked at North. “We’ll talk about this Duke thing later.” Foggy turned back to Rich and stated, “Bicycles,”
“Hay!” Helmet called lighting up, “Watch your language Elsie,” Foggy ignored him and continued, “We’re looking for a couple of old but serviceable adult machines, cheap,” and Helmet added, “Dirt cheap,”
Rich hummed and tapped his hoof. “I know it ain’t good customer service, but I’m not sure, I know of one or two places in Canterlot which might sale them,”
North frowned. “That seems a bit far to go from a pair of wheels in between a frame,”
“Well,” Foggy said glaring at him. “Since you’re apparently a member of the aristocracy now I think going to Canterlot will be fairly easy,” he turned back to Rich. “You don’t know of any-pony with a selection of machines we could examine,”
“Examine?” Rich said. “For dirty cheap in Canterlot you expect to examine?” he shook his head. “I’m sorry gentle-colts but I don’t think I can help.”
As the trio went to the door, Muffins spoke up. “We don’t you ask Time Turner?” they looked to her and she explained, “He’s got a shed full of bicycle parts, maybe you could ask him to make you own machines,” the three of them smiled and North thanked her.
Once after they left Rich returned to Muffins. “Have you made any progress?”
“I don’t know whether I should take a tin of luncheon hay,” he looked to the far corner of the shop where the hay produce sat. “Is it on your list?”
“Yes,” with confirmation Rich walked the long journey to the far corner, took a square tin and trudge back. When he put it on the counter Muffins paused and finished, “But I crossed it out,” Rich groaned and rolled his eyes. He took out a marker pen and draw on cross on the tin.
After Muffins finally left Sutch came in with his own list. The first item sounded like “Four candles,”
Time Turner said he could let Foggy and Helmet build their own machines while he sorted out North’s and few other odd jobs. In the shed the two novices mucked about in their own secluded end, which produced a lot of clangs and clinks and clanking, while North sat near the door sifting through the parts for suitable parts. Currently he tightened the spoke nipples on the rim of a wheel.
Foggy can out laughing. He wiped his hoof with a rag, somehow managing to make the greasier. “He hasn’t got the first idea,” he looked back with a chuckle. “And he won’t let me help him with it,”
“Well,” North muttered. “That’s not a bad first idea,” Foggy continued to wipe his hooves. “Well I wash my hooves of the whole thing, let him learn the hard way.” Foggy then noticed what North held out. “Oh, is that my wheel?”
“Well, I hope so,” North said smiling, “because if it’s a musical instrument it’s going to be very awkward to play,” he pretended to strum it like a harp. Foggy took the wheel and spoke up, “Yes, well, I suppose we shouldn’t be too hard in little electric socks, although I must say, I do rather enjoy it, well, you have to smile, don’t you? We’re not really being unkind. He knows I’ll help him whenever he becomes unstuck,”
North hummed a low laugh as Foggy re-entered to the workshop with the wheel. As North went out looking for a frame Helmet out in hysterics. “Thy should see him with a spanner,” he cackled. “He’s got no idea,” he paused and recovered as North presented him with something. “Hey,” he asked, “is that my frame?”
North paused and smiled. “Well I hope so,” he drawled, “because if it’s a musical instrument it’s going to be very awkward to blow,” Helmet took the frame and slung it onto his back. “You know,” he said. “He’s worse with a spanner than he is with a mare, but all tall blokes are the same, aren’t they?”
“Well,” North said slightly awkward. “Don’t look at me,” he bent his knees saying, “I’m a short low,”
Helmet laughed. “He keeps looking at my machine dead envious, but I pretend I’m not looking,” after another laugh he added more seriously, “Well, you can’t be unkind to Big Elsie, can you really? I mean, he knows full well, that I’ll help him out if he gets stuck,” he paused and with a grin announced, “I think I’ll give him a tally-ho,” Helmet reared up, took the frame and pressed the hole from the handlebars to his lips as he trotted back to the workshop. The noise sounded less like a trumpet, and more like an asthmatic kazoo.
North chuckled to himself.
Back at the café in Huntersfield Ivy smiled proudly at the door with it sign saying: Completely Redecorated!
Inside the slightly scruffy off-white walls now almost glowed with a new coat like Celestia’s. Around the room White Wonder and her husband Sharp helped. Ivy smiled. “Well, it looks a picture. Let’s hope we get a better class of costumer,” she paused as Sharps helped Crusher take a load of plates. “Or even a better class of staff,” she muttered.
Crusher turned to Sharp carefully and asked, “How many more trips upstairs,” Sharp replied, “If you think you’re bored now, wait until you have to start running up with the food. Go on,”
As the shuffled to the stairway at the back of the building, White turned to Ivy. “Do you think they’ll ever like work?”
“No,” Ivy said as she started folding napkins. “I wouldn’t expect so. They were past it before they even started it,” White nodded. “I suppose you can’t change the habits of a lifetime,”
“Depressing though, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very depressing. I blame a lot of it on literature,”
“Oh? How’s that?”
“Well, you read about all these funny ways of living. Ponies enjoying themselves. It makes it hard for them to adjust to the fact that, especially around here, real life, if you honest and decent, is bound to be pretty boring,” Ivy looked at her questioning. “Do you find your husband boring?” White nodded and added, “I wouldn’t have him any other way,”
“They’re so predictable,” Ivy said. White nodded again. “We’ve got a lot to be thankful for,” she returned to finishing the coat as Crusher and Sharp returned, wiping their faces and hooves on their white garments. Ivy noticed. “Hey!” she yelled. “Mind you keep them overalls clean. Ponies come in here for food. There entitled to expect to see nothing but cleanliness,”
Just then, Helmet walked in. “Hey up! Look at this!” as the other two entered. Ivy immediately gave them orders, “Don’t put your hooves anywhere on my walls. Just stand there and don’t move,”
“Don’t move?” Helmet exclaimed, “What about some grub? We’re starving!”
“Yes,” Ivy said, “well, just one step at a time. Just stand there for a minute. Let’s establish a few ground rules,”
North looked about unsure. “What happened to that homely air of neglect?” Foggy meanwhile approached Ivy impressed. “It’s very smart, congratulations,” Ivy nodded. “We’re aiming for a better class of customer,” then she muttered to herself. “We’re obviously failing,”
North still looked about at the white walls. “It’s like a hospital,” Helmet then pointed with a spanner to Sharp and Crusher. “Hey look,” Sharp put a fork into a pie as Helmet commented, “There’s Dr Sharp Edge, with his faithful nurse, Sister Crusher,”
“Knife,” Sharp called to Crusher. Before he could carve the pie Helmet’s word register and he looked up at them. Helmet laugh out loud at the coincidence.
Ivy looked at their hooves indignant. “Just look at the stare you’re in,” Foggy explained, “Yes, well, we’ve been building bicycles madam,”
Crusher and Sharp looked up. Crusher smiled and asked, “Bicycles?” Helmet nodded. “At Time Turner’s,” Sharp looked at them envious. “That sounds like a stallion’s job that, building bicycles,” Crusher then frowned. “Auntie Ivy? Are you refusing to serve them because of the oil? You said you can’t refuse to serve customers,”
“No-pony’s refusing to serve them, they’re just going to get it, Canterlot style,”
The trio looked at her, Foggy a little unsure and North and Helmet with smiles. “Canterlot style?” they asked together, and then Helmet added, “Cor I’ve never had it that before,”
North and Helmet’s mood change when it turned out Ivy made them sit at a table set up outside the café. Foggy meanwhile sat contently watching the guildhall.
Helmet place the spanner down between his knife and Foggy’s fork. “I feel a right prawn stuck out here,”
“I agree,” North said. “It’s a bit like making love in a railway station,” Helmet gave North an odd look.
Foggy begged to differ. “I think it’s quite pleasant eating outside,” he turned to Helmet. “Why should you feel a prawn?” Helmet looked aside and nodded. “Them for a start,”
A swarm of foals walked down the steps and converged on them trio. A colt asked mockingly, “What time’s the show start mister?” quickly Foggy and the trio ordered the group to go home. Foggy rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t it give you that warm feeling to know seventy percent of your Income Tax rates are going on education?” he looked down at his hooves and then to the bowl and the paper napkins set up in the middle of table, he took one each. Helmet took another napkin and stuffed it into his necktie, then he took one of the blows and sipped it. Foggy wiped his hooves and glanced at Helmet. He paused and sighed, then he told Helmet, “It’s for your hooves,”
Presently Sharp came out of the café with a trolley with three covered plates. Helmet washed his hooves and asked, “Hey, garcon,”
“I’d wish you’d give over,” he said before he started handling the plates. “It’s alright for you lot, out here. You’re out here building bicycle, and I’m stuck waiting on tables,” as he put the brown sauce bottle on the near the circumference of the round table North asked, “Do we have to eat out here? There must be some scruffy little corner left inside that Ivy could fit us into, even if it’s only in the kitchen,”
“You’re safer out here today,” Sharp said. “Ivy’s in a bit of a panic on account of this private party she’s having,” he walked away after giving Foggy his meal. The former Third Hoof guards-pony took a happy breath. “It’s really quite civilised out here,” Helmet reached over the table for the brown sauce, Foggy took his knife and hit the blunt end on Helmet’s hoof, “and that is the way it’s going to stay,” as he passed the bottle to Helmet he asked, “Would you kindly stop reaching across ponies? Just watch your manner now while you’re on show,”
“Listen Power Pony Radiance,” Helmet said annoyed, “I’m starving. This bike building gives you an appetite,” North leaned in. “Not to mention lot of shaving off his hooves,”
Foggy snorted as he picked up his cutlery. “You call that thing you’re building a bike?” he paused when he saw he held a spanner instead of a fork. Helmet smirked. “It’s no weirder than the thing you’re building,” he then whirled his forelegs while holding his knife and folk. “All right, stand back, stand back! I’m you due warning, I’m not letting anything come between me and this pie,” he and the other two leaned down to start eating when he noticed something, and exclaimed, “Dust!”
From a second first floor window above them a mare flapped a carpet out a window to air it. The trio picked up their table and chairs and moved over to the tree in the middle of the stone square away from the window. They down again and prepared to tuck in. When water started to fall on them. They looked up and the clear sky, then North noticed and became annoyed. A pony washed his cart with a hose. Once again, the three moved the table, this time getting closer to the steps. Just as they sat down again, North looked up. A pair of stallions struggled with a cast iron bath. North and Foggy looked at each other. They moved the table. Helmet on the other hoof watched the two movers behind him. He turned back and squirted the brown sauce bottle. Only to find no table and his wellies now stained.
As North and Foggy set the table just outside the café door, Ivy came out and quickly ran back in. “The party’s here!” she called, and several dozen ponies started filing around the table. Foggy and North shield themselves. A table umbrella propped up fell onto the table. Helmet waited to see if anything else would happen. He re-joined the table. North stood up and moved the umbrella from the table. As he did he saw something happening at the guildhall.
Vigil and her assistance carried a coffin. North pointed to it. Foggy and Helmet turned around. Quickly they got up in respect. Foggy then noticed something in the corner of his eyes. Helmet tried to reach behind for something. Foggy snapped the spanner sharply on Helmet’s hoof. The fur trapper’s face screwed in pain, silently he flapped his hoof about and gave Foggy a look.
Back outside Time Turner’s shed, North pumped the front tire of his repaired bike.
Foggy came out of the open door laughing. “Here he comes then,” he chuckled. “Are you ready for this?”
A clatter came from inside and Foggy burst out, “Ha! Hang on a minute, a bit there just fell off!” in between the pair laughing Foggy called to Helmet, “If wheeling’s going to shake it to pieces, why don’t you just, carry it out very gently?”
Helmet’s voice interrupted the laughter, “Oh! Slapped by the jack!” the two started laughing again and Foggy commented, “That language,” and then laughed further as Helmet yelled, “Oh the screwdriver’s slipped!”
“It’s marvellous really,” North said. “He hasn’t even started cycling and already he’s picked up the vocabulary,” after another fit of laughter Helmet came to the door grinning. “It’s done,” he proclaimed. “I’m coming. Ah, is thee ready?”
“Just get on with it,” Foggy said.
Helmet wheeled out a strange looking bike. Painted roughly with black and red paint. The seat extended high and tilted and a custom made, out of a metal pipe, a curving, almost bull horn shaped handlebar with the brake levers bolted on. “Ta-da!” Helmet announced. Then he asked, “Well?”
“Well,” North said crouching down. “It’s different,” then the handlebar twisted and fell upside down. Helmet ignored it and patted the seat. “She’s a little cracker is this,” then he turned to the still laughing Foggy. “Don’t stand there giggling. Go and get yours, then we can all have a go giggle.”
“It’ll match yours anytime,” Foggy replied. Helmet just laughed and said to North, “Thy should see it,” he returned to Foggy. “Well go on,” as Foggy entered the workshop Helmet moved his bike out of the way and called North over. “Hey North? Tell me, what does thee think of this little nimble machine? Not bad, is it?”
North tried to be diplomatic. “Isn’t it a bit low at the front?”
“Low?” Helmet questioned. North tried to recover his blunder, “Don’t get upset. I didn’t mean low, just well,” he indicated to the difference between the seat and the handlebars, “not all that high,”
Helmet look at North funny and then explained, “Well, of course it’s low, she’s a little race is this,” as North nodded in understand, Helmet looked to the workshop. “Better than his darn great clumsy lump,”
“Built to last is this machine,” Foggy called back.
“Aye,” Helmet replied. “That’s what they said about the sailing ships Medusa and Alicorn,” he gave a hissing laugh to himself.
Foggy proudly wheeled his bike out. A large framed creation with an Everfree Flag attached to the handlebar and instead of the saddle like seat, an old farming plough seat. Laughing North wobbled the seat before commenting, “It is the Alicorn! He’s put pedal on the Alicorn!”
“Well,” Foggy said unimpressed. “It’s a larger machine, for the, taller figure. Seems perfectly logical to me,”
“Thine’s going to get a nasty headache going under low bridges,” Helmet said before laughing again. Foggy sniffed. “Don’t exaggerate. The thing is merely a, comfortable height, for my length of leg,”
Helmet smiled smugly, “I feel the same way exactly about Mrs Batty,” North chuckled and turned to Foggy to ask, “Where are we going riding?”
“Well, does it matter?”
“Well it does if you’re determined to make a spectacle of yourself,”
“A spectacle of myself?” Foggy protested. “I can assure you that this machine and I have no intention of making a spectacle of ourselves,”
On the road to Huntersfield North looked back and stopped. “Hang on,” he said to Helmet. “We’ll have to wait for Faithful Dobbin again,”
Leaning over the handlebars Helmet looked up. “Again? What’s he doing?”
“About four miles an hour, have you seen what he’s doing?” a squeaking came from up the road and they looked back together. Foggy must have misjudged the height of the seat and it’s flexibly on it’s fixing, because as he pedalled he bobbed up and down.
Helmet hissed his laugher. North started pedalling again, he couldn’t help but contemplate the bizarre images this friend must have cut. Helmet crouched and angled by his high seat and low handlebars as to almost bend double. And Foggy constantly undulating.
North opened the café door and amused said, “Oh, dear, oh dear,”
Foggy walked in with a silly walk causing him to bob up and down.
More drastically, Helmet came in reared up and bent forward. Still holding his curved handlebars. Foggy and North prised them off him and the former Third Hoof ordered, “Straight out! Straight out that colt!”
“I can’t,” Helmet protested. “I can’t. Me back’s locked,” he trudged over other counter.
Ivy standing there flicked her cloth at him shouting, “Keep your hooves off my paintwork!” Helmet explained, “I’ll topple over if I haven’t anything to hold onto,”
“Well,” Ivy said, “hold onto to this thought for today. If put a mark on my paintwork, I’ll feed you through me waste disposal! Bones and all,”
Foggy and North quickly pulled Helmet away from the counter and tried to put him into a chair. But his body remained stubbornly stiff to get out of its current position.
Crusher came out and confused asked, “What’s up with Mr Listener? You trying to get him into a parcel?” North explained, “It’s a little bicycle fatigue,” Helmet called out, “I am going to get better, I am going to get better,” he paused. “Hey? Why’s it all going quiet?”
“We’re thinking,” Foggy said. “You don’t want a causal snap answer,”
“Yes, I do,” Helmet clarified. “I want a causal snap answer.”
“Well,” Foggy began, “it’s just a little crick in the back, that’s all. Worse things happen in bed,”
Ivy turned shocked. “Not in my bed they don’t,”
The three stallions tried again to put on a stool. North even took his shoulder and gently rolled him onto it. Only for Helmet to remain in his position, back legs bent, and forelegs held out. Foggy shook his head and they returned him to standing. Crusher then took another chair and moved it under Helmet, so he could place his stomach on the backboard and prop himself against it. He grumbled but in a thankful way, “I like that. I like that,”
Foggy took charge. “This situation is going to need some very delicate handling,” after a pause he added, “I fact hardly any handling at all,”
Ivy sniffed. “Yes, well. I’ll leave you to it. There are certain darker corners in this universe into which a mare of my sensibilities is not disposed to pry,” before she went into the kitchen she mentioned, “Oh, while you’re straighten him out,” she shouted, “Keep his hooves off my woodwork!”
Foggy took the two upright ponies into a corner near the door to discuss things. “How are we going to straighten him out?” North turned confident. “I think I know how we’re going to straighten him out,” quietly he opened to the door and shuffled to the counter. “Sorry to have to inform you Ivy. But a certain cripple pony has just accidently put his mucky hooves all over your paintwork!”
He and the other three ran out leaving Helmet as Ivy shouted from the kitchen, “On my paintwork!”
“That’s a lie!” Helmet shouted. “Don’t leave me!”
“Let me get at him!”
From the outside North, Foggy and Crusher listened. Ivy shouted. “I told you!”
Helmet wailed.
Anything went silent.
The door opened. Helmet came out back on all four hooves and straight. He rubbed his back. He trudged over to Crusher. “By heck Crush, thee needs a medal for having her as an aunt,”
Smug, North approached and asked, “Feeling better, are you?” Helmet turned sour at him. “That was a rotten trick,”
“Well, was it worth it?” North asked. “To get your health back,”
“It come back all in a rush,”
“Well,” North said happily “Now you’re fit again. Ready to be obnoxious to all the mares,” Helmet chuckled. “I do my best,” as they walked off Foggy commented, “There’s no-pony does it better,”
Crusher smiled and went back inside to help sort out the chairs once more.
Back at the workshop some worried conversation emanated from it. Helmet’s voice asked, “Is thy sure this thing’s better?”
Foggy answered, “Of course it’s better. This way we all keep at the same speed,”
“Look at North,” Helmet said desperately. “He looks worried about it,” and North clarified, “Only because I’m worried about it,” Foggy on the other hoof would not listen. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. It’s going to be a very stable machine.”
Out from the workshop came three bicycles of equal size. Attached together with a couple of pipes across their frames so they stood in a row. Foggy looked proudly at his creation as North and Helmet shuffled up behind him. “There,” Foggy proclaimed. “Stroke of genius,” he let go and turn excited, “I mean look at it. Stands up be itself. Ha. How safe can you get? Six wheels! More than a royal chariot!”
Helmet turned to North. “I think I was happier when all I had to worry about was a flint in my welly,”
Foggy glanced at the two offended. “Why are you being so negative,”
North nodded to Helmet. “Tell him. Tell him!” Helmet opened his mouth. But Foggy cut him off, “All I ask is that you give it a fair trial.”
North look down on it. “It looks guilty to me,” and Helmet nodded. Foggy sniffed. “You’ll see,” he walked around to them. “You mark my words. The world is going to be amazed that no-pony’s ever thought of this idea before. The name Foggy Dew is going to be,” he dramatically lifted his hoof up in no particular direction and stated, “up there. Alongside, Glittering Iron, Bright Light, Ray Signal!”
Helmet frowned. “Who’s that lot?” North whispered to him, “Just to give you an idea, they’re all dead,” Helmet gave him a funny look.
Up on one of the hills the trio pushed the three-pony bike. They held onto the handles. But given the unfixed and swivelling nature of the front wheel they couldn’t remained still. Helmet voice this with annoyance, “It keeps going in all directions!”
Foggy covered for this design flaw. “Well, that’s because we haven’t started to ride it yet, I am mean once we’re in the saddles, we should be able to steer it accurately.”
“What at?” North asked. Foggy paused and laughed at such a stupid question. “Well, at nothing!” he waved his hoof behind him. “We just coast, down this gentle slope to get the feel of it.” North and Helmet looked back. Then Helmet voiced a new concern, “Has it got any brake?”
“Brakes?” Foggy asked with laugh. “Not only does it have brakes, it has three independent braking systems,” then he added, “That’s more than a royal chariot!”
At the top of the hill the trio sat. Foggy on the left. Helmet on the right. And North in the middle. Foggy looked about and smiled. “Here we go then,” he pushed on the pedals. The three-pony bicycle remained in place. He tried again. Then he turned to the other two. “Why aren’t we moving?”
Helmet nodded to North and said, “He’s got his brakes on,” Foggy saw North grip the brake levers on his handlebar and asked him, “Why have you got your brakes on?” and North replied by nodding the Helmet. “Because he’s got his brakes on,”
Foggy sighed. “Come on,” he ordered, “Let’s go,” he pushed on the pedals as Helmet and North let their brakes go. Gravity took control.
The three gathered speed.
Halfway down the hill Foggy glanced at his co-test-pilots. “Isn’t this pleasant?” he didn’t notice the two shaking their heads. Instead, he suggested, “Now we’ll test the brakes,” he turned to the two, “but wait for it. Wait for it. When I give the signal,” he looked forward again and chuckled. “Can’t just go braking whenever we feel like it, can we?” he failed to see them nodded enthusiastically. “No, no. This is something we shall all do together. Now you watch for my signal,”
A crossroads with a grassy bank approached. Foggy raised a hoof. “Now, braking detail. Ready. Steady,” he swiftly lowered his hoof. “Go!”
The three braked. The bike stopped. So fast they were thrown over the handlebars. They landed on the grassy bank. As they recovered Foggy stood up. The un-ponied bike started moving passed them down the road and rolled into a ditch in the verge.
Helmet got up and lightly thrashed Foggy with his necktie. “You great gormless, four-eyed, useless twit!”
North got up and commented, “And that’s more than a royal chariot,” Foggy ran down the road to retrieve the bike, and to miss Helmet throwing a pebble at him. “Get out of it!” he shouted. Then turned to North and gestured at him saying, “Come on!” they ran to Foggy and gave him a sound, and gentle bashing. Before they striped the pipes off the frames and rode the bicycle back to Ponyville, or in Foggy’s case, ride and get a cart back to Huntersfield.