//------------------------------// // Special Help // Story: My Little Caboose: Blue is Magic! // by DarkWing //------------------------------// "Well?" Sarge asked after a few minutes of waiting for O'Malley, who was silent while he examined the interior of the barn. "It's horrible in here. Whoever put this together clearly didn't have any thumbs." O'Malley grunted loudly. "They didn't." "I rest my case." O'Malley huffed, stepping out of the barn, dusting his hooves off on the grass. "Tell me, are there any small animals I could kill to get this awful feeling out of my stomach?" "Not until we find some use for you, now come on." Sarge said, walking towards the tree that the Cutie Mark Crusaders were inspecting. "The stench of fools hangs in the air here." O'Malley said as he sniffed the air, then winced. "I don't like it." "Unfortunately you don't have to like it, you just have to hit this tree and knock the apples down." Sarge said, knocking on the tree lightly. "The girls were supposed to scope out this tree for me, but since you scared them off I need to make sure this tree is easy enough for you to bring down." "You want me to hit a tree... to bring down the apples?" O'Malley asked, lifting his lip in disgust. "Yup." Sarge said passively. "If it makes you feel any better you can pretend the trees are Grif." "That does make it a little better." O'Malley nodded slowly. "Still not quite the same as the real thing." "You can say that again." Sarge mumbled, then shook his head and pointed at the tree. "I see..." O'Malley said as he looked over the tree. "So this is what it's like, hm?" "What is what like?" "Being at rock bottom." O'Malley chuckled, turning his head to the left to look at Sarge. "I'm far from rock bottom." Sarge disagreed. "Oh really?" O'Malley asked, casting a curious eye over Sarge. "Just get to your damn point." Sarge said impatiently. "You used to be something." O'Malley said simply, but Sarge stared indifferently at him. "A leader of your own squad. Granted, it wasn't a real squad, but you still enjoyed commanding. Now look at you. You're nothing more than a petty farmer." "We're all prisoners of circumstance here." Sarge shrugged. "Of course. That's why you've been watching the Blue this entire time, correct? Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer?" O'Malley inquired, but Sarge didn't reply. "Oh, that's right, you haven't been watching them. You've been staying on this farm the entire time, perfectly content picking apples. Tell me, why the change of heart? Do you like the Blues now?" "God no, I'm just busy training a new squad of soldiers." Sarge smirked. "Besides, we all need a vacation every now and then. Might as well have one that involves working." "Pathetic and delusional." O'Malley nodded slowly. "May I suggest killing yourself? Or better yet, hire someone to do it for you. You should be happy to know that I'm free for the next couple hours." "Just hit the damn tree." Sarge growled. "Oh, did I strike a nerve?" O'Malley asked, beaming at him when Sarge continued glaring. "The old fool finally sees the truth. You're an old warhorse, quite literally now, and a foolish one at that." Sarge rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to shut O'Malley up, but O'Malley cleared his throat and frowned slightly. "Could the reason you're so accepting of this place of foolish ponies be that you found yourself useless back where you actually were something?" O'Malley laughed when Sarge began approaching him. "Never got the respect you sought, lied to for years, never actually beat the Blues at anything during that time." Sarge bucked the tree lightly and several apples fell from the tree and hit O'Malley on the head. O'Malley grunted and began rubbing his head, but kept a smile the entire time. "Kick the tree." Sarge murmured, going back to his original position to watch over O'Malley. "Not unless you give me a better reason." "I know you have to breathe to live for one." "Resorting to violence?" O'Malley asked with mock fear. "O'Malley's doing some crazy shit out here, mind holding him in place for a few?" Sarge asked loudly, facing the farm house. "What are you-" O'Malley began, but soon found himself unable to speak. He glanced down and saw the green glow around his body. "You going to cooperate?" Sarge asked and O'Malley reluctantly nodded. "Good." Sarge sighed, turning back to the house. "Thanks Green, we're good out here." "That..." O'Malley began as he fell to the ground. "Was very rude, got it." Sarge finished with a hoarse laugh, before pointing at the tree. "Now kick the tree." "Fine." O'Malley huffed. "Fine." Sarge nodded. "Fine!" O'Malley snapped as he got off the ground, approached the tree and quickly lifted his back legs into the air. O'Malley slammed his back hooves into the tree, but rather than the sound of apples hitting the ground, there was a loud cracking noise. O'Malley turned around to examine the tree, but what he saw was not a full tree. It was a stump. O'Malley raised his gaze to look ahead and saw dozens of large chunks of splintered wood, as well as dozens of apples, most of which had pieces of wood piercing through them. "My name is O'Malley, bring downer of apples!" O'Malley yelled happily, stomping on one of the few apples that were whole. "Bow before my strength and aptitude for farming delicious orbs!" "You destroyed the damn tree." Sarge grunted, looking at the apple massacre. "No need to thank me, fool! I already know I'm the great-" "You weren't supposed to break the tree though." Sarge interrupted him harshly. "You never told me that. You told me to bring down the apples." O'Malley muttered, motioning towards the branches and bark. "I did." "Now the Apple family can't use that tree again." Sarge sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Why not?" O'Malley asked. "Because you killed it." "Oh." O'Malley said hesitantly as he looked at the chunk of wood again. He then smiled. "My name is O'Malley, feller of trees and murderer of flora!" "Shut up, dammit." Sarge grumbled. O'Malley giggled maliciously as Sarge collected the scraps of the tree, kicking them into a large pile. Once all the pieces were together, Sarge quickly separated the few good apples from the many destroyed ones. "You're good at this." O'Malley chuckled. "I'm sure the mares are all over you for being so good at sorting apples." "You'd be surprised." Sarge smirked. "So what are you going to have me do now, hm?" O'Malley asked, kicking one of the rotten apples next to Sarge. "Pick flowers? Perhaps bake a cake?" "No, I have something much worse planned for you." Sarge smiled thinly at O'Malley "Worse than baking or cooking?" O'Malley asked, raising his brow. "Now I am curious." "Hell, it could be both of those." "How do you not know what you're going to get me to do?" O'Malley asked slowly. "Because I'm not the one who's going to decide what you're going to be doing from here on out." Sarge sniffed, walking towards the gate of Sweet Apple Acre. "Come on, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." "He?" O'Malley paused behind Sarge. "Why aren't you the one who's going to do it? Lost the willpower to do it? Or is it because it's not farming?" "You want to make this difficult?" Sarge asked as he stopped by the gate to stare at O'Malley. "Well I'm game. It's going to a whole lot more difficult for you starting now." Sarge said, then looked towards Ponyville. "We're going to get some help, and I have no doubt what he's going to make you do is going to be so mind numbingly painful for you that you'll beg to kick trees." "And who is going to do that?" O'Malley asked, but Sarge didn't challenge him. He simply smiled. O'Malley narrowed his eyes nervously at Sarge. "You wouldn't." "Oh, I would." Sarge chuckled as he began trotting towards town. "Sugar Cube Corner, here we come."