//------------------------------// // 6. - Hard to Say Nothing // Story: Bad Compony // by ReadStart //------------------------------// “FUCK!” I stumbled back again. The unicorn... it—she just had a voice now. I wasn’t hearing grunts or neighs. I heard words, clear as they could’ve been. “Jesus, Preston? What now?” Hags buzzed in after my fall. “What? You— none of you heard that?” I saw a confused look on all three of their faces as I stood back up. “Uh… yeah, we heard it whinny a bit. The Hell scared you ‘bout that?” As they waited for an answer, I looked back to the pony, a her from the sound of it. “Well? W-what are you… waiting for?” she stuttered. The initial shock of a talking animal died off rather quick, thanks to the fact she sounded more terrified than I was. She then pointed a hoof towards the others. “Go on… don’t be s-shy about it.” “What?” I muttered back. “Oh—look, your friends there can’t hear me! I—It’s just you I can talk to!” “What, again? How does that work?” I asked back “Woah, shit, Pres? You ok?” Hags asked worriedly. “You—heh, you look like you’re, uh, talkin’… to the pony.” I looked at him as square as I could as I said, “Oh God… I— I think I am.” “You what?” Sarge’s eyes were wide open in disbelief. “Oh my God, Preston. You better be playin’—otherwise, I’m gonna go mad havin’ to deal with three fuckin’ nutjobs in this–” “–Dude, there’s no way your ass just went full Dr. Dolittle on us now,” Hags spoke up, “Like, what kinda tard are ya to think that you can just magically talk to… wait” He paused to put something together in his head. “Oh… Ooh shit! What if it’s that magic shit goin’ on here?” “Oh Yeah, yeah! This thing could’ve totally used magic on you!” Sweets jumped in, “Like, it’s a fucking unicorn, Pres. They’re supposed to ‘interact’ with you if you’re, uh… maybe a virgin, or something, right?” “Come on, Sweets,” Hags butted in. “Quit doin’ your ‘projecting’ stuff all over him. Pres has totally got some–” “–Just back off for a sec,” I asked. When they gave me space, I turned to talk with her. “Can you tell me what just happened?” I asked softly. “Well, I—I only, uh, put a spell on you… but it’s so we could talk, ok?” she wailed, “Oh, I couldn’t understand a thing you all were saying, and I really didn't know if that spell would work! I don’t think anypony’s seen anything like you–” “–What do you mean by spell?” “Oh… pfft, magic of course!” She blurted out, waving a hoof at me. For not having hands, she was expressive with that thing. “Uh, you know I’m a unicorn, right?” She gave her horn a stern knock. “It’s kinda our thing. 'Magic makes us all complete' and stuff?” “Uh… yeah.” I gave enough of a nod to satisfy her. “But would it have hurt to… communicate in, I dunno—any other way?” “Er… not really.” She then started to second guess herself, “Well, like—maybe I would’ve been able to do it cleaner. I mean, it’s just—I… ah, I’m not great with spells, ok? For me, if it’s not to help with cooking, then forget about it, you know? Ok, maybe you don’t… But with the whole ‘sneaking up on me in the loud, scary wagon’ routine you had going on, I got really scared, and nervous—I’m not any better at magic under pressure, so I just–” “–Ok, ok, that’s enough.” I raised my hands up to get her to stop. “You can calm down— you’re good now. So… if you could just sit there and keep it quiet while I talk to the guys here, that would be great, alright?” She put a hoof in front of her lips and plopped down. I turned back to the others to see them standing frozen in another layer of disbelief at the sight of this pony actually understanding me… until Hags raised his shotgun at me. “GOD, put that fuckin’ thang down!” Sarge shouted. “But he’s gone mad, I tell ya—M-A-D!” “Oh no. The only thing mad about this is… that I think it’s real,” Sweets croaked. "So? You believe in that global warmin' too, and that ain't any more real cause of it." "Oh, for fu– you damn caveman!” Sweets protested, “How much clearer does it need to be for you to realize that we might be dicking around with the environment too hard with all of this–” Hags lowered his gun as he turned to Sweets, "–Now listen here, compadre: It fuckin' snowed last year in Arlington. Arlington! What more proof do ya need that it's all a buncha liberalizin’ hogwash?" "Ugh—it's not all about warming! It's the climate being disrupted by–" "–And there ya go, movin' the goal-posts again…" “Oh, please!” she cried through their bickering, “I can't understand a word out of them! They sound like you but—crazier! And scary! Can you get them to listen!” “Uh, they kinda think I'm losing it if you haven't noticed,” I spoke back. “I don’t know… Ooh—how about you let them ask me something!” she cheered. I nodded and got the attention of the others. “Hey—so none of you can hear a word she’s saying?” I asked again. “Uh, hell no,” Hags answered, “It ain’t my job to hear voices in your head.” “Just like it isn’t my job to hear your tinnitus?” I hit back. “Now, I know why I can hear her: she… put some ‘spell’ on me with that zap… thing–” “–It’s magic,” she added. “–With magic!” “Oh really?” Hags crossed his arms as he asked. “Yes.” “And the magical talkin’ she-pony just told ya that?” “Yeah, and she—oh, shove it, it’s not like we haven’t seen weirder things out here! Just... trust me on this!” Sarge started to shake his head before calling the other two into a huddle behind the van. After a long minute, they walked out with a verdict. “You know what?" Sarge stepped forward with a grin. “We'll believe that you’re the new fuckin’ Steve Irwin if you can give us your new friend’s name.” “Yeah! Try talkin' your way outa this one,” Hags jeered. “Deal.” I looked back at the unicorn to kneel and ask her. “So—do you have a name?” “Oh… that’s it?” she wheezed, "Ha ha! Well, my name’s Lemon Hearts, and I’m a unicorn from Ponyville. I like baking, knitting, and anything citrus, and before all of this, I was headed to the Friendship Festival to deliver all these lemons.” She took the tarp off the cart to show us. “Is that enough for you or..." "Yeah, that was… great.” "Awesome! So, what’s your name then?” “Preston Marlow. Uh, human.” “Preston… Marlow? Whaaat?" she blurted out, "Now, that’s a weird name.” “Oh, so is ‘Lemon Hearts’ the norm around here?” I snapped back. “Whoa, whoa whoa—Lemon… Hearts?” Hags asked. He leaned in to make sure he was hearing me right. “Yeah. Her name… is Lemon Hearts.” He stood up and took a step back, bumping into Sweets while he looked at me in amazement. “Oh... my God. Lemon Hearts. That has... got to be—the dumbest name I have ever fuckin' heard!” He smiled, before moving onto snickering. Sweets was quick to join in. And so was Sarge, surprisingly. “Whu—Wait... why are they laughing?” She looked up at me with a tilt in her head. It… almost hurt to look at her without joining in with the other guys. “Oh, Pres... The fact that—no, just by the sheer frivolity of that 'name'—I'm a believer!" Sweets called out as he put a hand on my shoulder, "Ha! Like, there's no way you could come up with something like…Lemon Heart-tehehe ha HA HA!” “Oh, ok—so what’s next? We meet her old buddy, Fruit Punch? Pffft-” Sarge jabbed in. I just couldn't resist the idea, so I asked her with the straightest look I could manage, “Do... you know a pony… by the name of—Fruit Punch?” She sat up to ponder about it for a second, rubbing her hoof to chin. “Hmm… No? Wait—Oooh, I know a Berry Punch if that helps!” I lost it there. Just the way she fell for it with all that enthusiasm—It was gold. “Shit, what’d she say?” Hags asked as I pulled myself together. “She… knows a 'Berry Punch’ if that helps–'” "Holy Jesus, how is th- AhhHA hah aha HA–!" We were “compromised” for a good minute after that, either laughing too hard or thinking about more names like “Bloody Mary” or “Sea Biscuit” to ask. Lemon Hearts wasn't having fun with this, of course, and started to give us a glare as we roared on. When we settled down, Sweets managed to stitch together a real question for her. “Ah, Christ, te he, ah—oh wow... whooh, that’s—that was great. But—wait...” His face snapped to a stern look. “If she’s carrying stuff on this road... oh snap, Pres, ask if she can get us into Camelot!" “Oh yeah, she mentioned that—on her way to that festival thing," I answered, "So… there's going to be a lot more of ponies there." “No shit—but there? Is there, like, a Lord, or King, or... hell, Old McDonald leading them that we can talk to? God, just so many questions…" “Alright…" I sobered up to ask, “Hey, are there any, uh—important ponies—up in that Camalot place a head?" “Well, of course. Canterlot is home to the Two Sisters," she muttered, "But I’m not answering any more questions if you’re just going to laugh at me.” She gave just the cutest pout as she crossed her hooves together. “Well…" I turned back to the others. "She's now mad at us–” “Hey, I’m not mad, I’m just upset–” “–Upset at us now. So much for being an 'ambassador,' right, Sweets?” “Oh sure, it feels great when someone else screws up your job. Speaking of which, how does it feel to be the first man to ever be ‘cursed’ anyway?” “I... I wouldn't call it a curse—right Lemon?" “What? Curse? Why—I would not!” she cried, “I only did a, uh... eh, shucks… Ok, I guess I… did kinda use one—but it’s not a cursy-curse! Just a snappy little earworm spell—just to make talking between some creatures and ponies possible, and I’m glad you hugh-mans are somehow on that list.” “That’s... not bad. What’s the curse part?” “It’s… really hard to undo?" “So, is it a curse or what?” Hags butted in. “Well, I’m allergic to fire now,” I chirped back, “But really, It’s just that I can understand what she’s saying now—so that’s good.” I looked back to Lemon Hearts and told her, “Thanks.” “Oh, you’re—so much more than welcome! Either with me or anypony in Equestria! Uh, at least with anypony that'll take my word—which is still a lot! So… does this mean you forgive me now?” “Sure. I’ve had worse introductions before.” I stuck out a hand to shake her... I didn't really think it through at the time—but she stuck her hoof out and let me shake that instead. “Wow... just—thanks, Preston-Marlow.” She took her hoof back and placed it to her chest. “Now, I promise I won't pull something like that on you, ever.” “Alright... call me ‘Pres’ from now on and we’ll be good.” She blushed out of embarrassment—I hoped—and nodded. “Gah, stop with this spoonin' shit Marlow," Sarge ordered. "Just ask 'Lemon Tarts' or whatever where her owner is or whatever.” “Uh, Sarge?” Sweets intervened, “If they’re capable of communicating on this level to Pres, I’m pretty sure they’re their own owners.” “Well it ain’t gonna hurt to ask…” Lemon stopped me after I translated the word 'owner' to her. “Owner? Owner! Hey, ponies do not play pet to any other creatures, pal,” she said in a hurt tone, "And I’m happy to be an independent mare myself, thank you very much.” She stuck her nose up in another pout. “Uh... she’s on her own Sarge.” “Figures. Welp—might as well stick with her at this point; doubt anything's gonna make us look more friendly than her by our side. Can she get us into Camalot or whatever?” After translating, she answered, "Of course! But… it's pronounced Canterlot. Can-ter-lot. Come on, we're ponies, not camels. Anywho, you're all welcome to follow me on my way there—although you really can't miss the place if you just follow the road." “We can just follow the road up ahead and reach the place, or follow her,” I translated. “Also... she says it's called Canterlot.” “Follow her?” Hags asked, “And what, put the car behind the pony?” Before anyone could answer him, Sweets blurted out, “Canterlot? That’s the name? Really?” We turned to look at him. “Uh… what? Do I seriously have to spell it out? I mean, Canter-lot? Ponies canter, the place is a castle, and it’s a play on ‘Camelot.’ No takers?” There was another pause between us all. “Ugh, ok, forget about it,” he continued, "So, would she be against riding in the back or what?" "Huh... well, we sure got room for her—just pray she ain't kickin’ a shell if she gets spooked." Sarge nodded at me to go ahead and ask. "Would you be against riding along with us?" I asked, pointing to the car. "Oh... I—uh, honestly don't think I have a choice here, out of politeness, mind you. I'll do it. And don't worry about the cart, it's just for–" "–It’s a yes," I called out, as I walked over to jump into the back of the Van. "Wait… hold on a second..." Sweets hollered out, just as I was grabbing Lemon by the hooves to pull her up, "Can, uh... can she do the spell thing again? On me, this time?" "What? Again? Why would two of us need to talk to her?" I asked back. "Well, I'm supposed to be the ambassador, right? So, I should've been the first one to learn how to talk to them. Also, there's definitely going to be more than one pony that will want to talk to us once we get inside, and I don’t trust-" "-But... shouldn't Sarge get that magic to hear 'em over you?" Hags argued. "Really?" Sarge spoke up, "Ha, I've already got the three of you fuckballs runnin' me deaf—I don't need a bunch of other munchkins annoyin' my ass. Pres… if Sweets wants to hear them, tell her to, uh—do her thang." As Sweets did a little fist pump in the back, Lemon nudged my side to ask, "Hey, what's going on here?" "Well, my buddy here, Sweetwater, wants you to do the spell thing, again. On him." “What?” she chirped with a worried look to her face, “Oh... I don’t know about doing it twice in a row! But I... I guess I should be able to." She let out a sigh and put on a firm look. "Tell him I’ll try my best." “Sooo is it a yes? A no? Maybe? Do you need me to repeat it—What?” Sweets rushed to ask. “Well,” I pushed back, “She can try to do it- but she's not making any promises. Understand? “ “Absolutely!” he cheered while walking up to touch the horn. “Hell yeah, psychic powers here I com–” “–Woah—Nooo—no no!” Lemon yelled at Sweets, blocking him from the horn with a hoof, “Tell him to stay back, I’m not zapping him like you again!” “Wha—what gives this time? She's got a headache or something?" "Just wait a second," I snapped at him, before turning back to Lemon. "So, how are you gonna get him-" "–I’ll just cast it at him, It’s not much more of a biggie—but I’ll need some space here to get it right, so...” “Alright, Sweets—she’s going to do this 'painless' for you. So stay a bit back, ok?” "Ooh, ok... uh, do I really look that soft to her? Or wh-" "Gah- just get it over with it, we’re already late for the party," Sarge pushed him. "Alright, jeez!" After taking a few steps back, Sweets spun around. "Well... I’m ready now. Tell her to lay it on me—I've got this!" Squinting his eyes, he hunched forward and braced himself far ahead of the other two. “Here it goes!” She drew in a deep breath before raising the front of her body up, charging a purple bolt from her horn before stomping her hooves down in the back of the van... only she managed to slip on a shotgun shell rolling around on the cabin floor. She planted her face into a pile of gear, knocking over an unloaded PKM that slammed into her head. She was knocked out in an instant, and since she was in the middle of using her powers... well, her magic kinda kept—pouring out. I mean, the sunset-purple laser beam from her still connected with one of us. But Instead of hitting Sweets, it… hit Haggard. The beam still kept going on though, even after Hags was tossed back, and her aim was just everywhere. It was like a garden hose flailing around on its own. None of us wanted to touch the beam after it kicked Hags like that, so we dove out of the way to wait out Lemon's unintentional diet death-ray Luckily for us, the beam quickly weakened into a spurt of power, then into a squirt, and finally stopped in a shower of sparks coming from the tip of her now smoking horn. And with that, we were off to our great start with human-pony relations. “You hit Haggard!? How!?” Sweets yelled, hunched over as he looked at Lemon. But he didn’t get an answer back… she was out—cold. I checked to see if she was okay and everything. She wasn’t okay—but she was still breathing and had a pulse. “Oh... forget it—this is… just bad.” Sweets stopped complaining and began to dig for something in his bag. “Ha! Funny for you to say that, since there wouldn’t be this situation if you weren’t so eager-beaver to talk ta Lemon Tarts and all ‘er other fruity-flavored friends,” Hags scolded him. He’d picked himself back up pretty quick for being tossed eight feet back. “Could you two start arguing about solutions here?” I spoke up while kneeling over Lemon on the cabin floor. Her… light snoring was reassuring—but she wasn’t responding to anything worth trying. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Hags muttered. “Well, if she’s our ticket into Canter’s Lot or whatever, then we gotta get her up… unless we’ll just hold her up like Weekend at Bernie’s.” Sweets looked up from his sifting. “Oh God—I am not a fan of playing puppeteers with her. Our only real option is to we wake her up… ugh—problem is, all these first-aid kits I grabbed are filled with gauze, happy thoughts, and vodka shots. Not a single stim...” “Uh... whaddya mean by a 'stim', there?” “Stimulant—any drug that'll give her a hell of a wake-up call. Uh... ok. So, it looks like someone packed some amphetamines in here. But… I can’t use this stuff on an animal that small–” “–Ah." Hags snapped his fingers. "She just needs a pick-me-up, eh? Don’t worry folks, I’ve got this.” He walked over to Lemon with a confident look before pulling a med pen out of a pouch. Sweets turned around to see what his idea was, only to see malpractice in action. “Wait, is that... NO HAGGARD, WAIT–” Too late; Hags had shot-up a dose of LIFE-2 into the pony. Now, to make this clear: that "medicine" in her was definitely a stimulant. More than that—It was an all-in-one painkiller, anti-biotic, and "metabolic booster." Our company got used to calling this new stuff "Jesus-juice", and new it was. Packed into a little auto-injector was a cocktail that was just a lawsuit in a can waiting to happen. This stuff wasn’t even cleared for standard Army use—I mean, it worked… but it probably went through less testing than our toothbrushes. But, like the rest of our company, we sure as Hell weren't standard; We were an expendable force… and so are guinea pigs, I hear. Usually, I liked getting hands-on with new gear, even if it meant having to fill out stacks of surveys for debriefing. All that being said, the idea of giving a full dose of FDA-rejected sludge to a four-foot pony didn’t sound so hot to the rest of us. “HAGS!” Sarge yelled. “What?” Hags asked as he cleaned the tip of his pen off. “The Hell were you thinkin’? Gah! Fuck it—Sweets, you chew him out.” “Gladly,” he jumped in, “What the fuck? Are you TRYING to kill her? You don’t even know the dosage of that stuff for yourself, much less a—brand new species! “Oh relax," Hags waved him off, “It wasn’t much. Like only an itty squirt… or two. Really, how bad could it–” "–GaaaaAAASP!" Lemon sprung up from her slump like a rake being stepped on—with glazed eyes, pinprick pupils, and ever so softly shaking all over. “Jesus, Hags, does that look bad to you?” Sweets ranted on. “Still worked better than your dickin’ around!” he answered. I was busy trying to handle her while they were bickering. “Lemon? Hearts? Lemon! Are you with me?” Her spaced-out look was starting to worry me. “Ahh... AHHHH!" she yelped first, “OoOH lord LUNA! I’m—It’s everywhere! There! T-THE PLAD! PLAD! GET IT OFF—off,all off!” I had to hold her down as she flailed around like a fish. “Oh, will ya hear that! That’s just the cutest lil' voice,” Hags noted. “And... it worked! Ha hah!” "Ah.. .AAAIIEEE! It’s all—everywhere—Juicy!” Lemon babbled on. “My eyes! It's all... Wow! Shimmy! HA Ha haaa!" "Ok, startin’ to see my mistake here," he backtracked, "Uh, how long she’s gonna be stoned off her ass?" he asked Sweets "Good question: depends on how much of that shit you put in her, dumbass." "Oh, Lordy—it was just a squinch!" "A squinch? Dude, let me see that pen of yours-" "No way, Jose! Get your own stuff!" "Weew! Ha ha!” she droned on. "OOOH oh, oh-oh my... Ooo, my heab... I-I thimk I'm-err... o-key?" She was starting to make a very slurred form of sense. "Yeees... I’a think that's the west of it… Oh- Pro... Preston! Is that… I'm scared... what did yew–" "–Calm down," I began, "Relax—take it easy..." "Uh, Yeah—deep breaths and stuff," Hags added. "Oh, just can your ass; we've had enough of your ‘mistakes’ for one day," Sarge blasted him, "So, how's she feelin' Pres?" "Oh, yeash- s-supper fine..." she spun up as I asked, "Butt- I'm a not feelin'… too wordsy naow... hey, since whin wer you pink? Hags nodded his head. "Yeah, she’s fucked up, Sarge–" "Fhuck?" Lemon uttered, "What’s a Fhuck? *gasp* Is… it a bahd word?" "Uh… I didn’t say that," Hags tried to mislead her. "Well... what dose it means? Tell me… Now!" "Fuck no–" "–Not anotha' word, numbnuts," Sarge reminded him. He thought through our next step, and asked for me again. "Preston… if she ain't in any condition to help us outright, well, can you ask if she knows someone else that we could find?" As soon as I finished asking Lemon Hearts for another pony that could help us with "getting back home", she seemed to slightly sober up as an idea popped into her head. "Oh, of chourse! I know my GOod ole pall, and—heh, now a princess, could do help with that! Twilight Sparkle!"