//------------------------------// // Ch 7: The Third Bad Thing // Story: Pinkie's Guide to Greater Equestria // by GrangeDisplay //------------------------------// It was like the Long Branch Saloon had never gone out of business. The building was packed and operating in full swing. The atmosphere of the saloon was celebratory as patrons drank, played, talked, and laughed in honor of a new day in Dodge Junction. Ragtime music played on the out-of-tune piano, keeping the energy high with its quick tempo. Pinkie dodged and wove around and under the merry adults as they sang and danced. Although her age kept her from engaging in the full experience, Pinkie was happy to share their joy. It wasn’t quite a party, at least Ferrous hadn’t said it was, but everypony seemed to enjoy it as if it were. To the aspiring party pony, it was an inspiration. She studied the cheerful chaos with a careful eye and thought of her conversation with Cherry. The aftermath of the stand-off had shown Pinkie what the community looked like at its fullest. It was a stark contrast from the town that flipped their mood to negative at the drop of a hat. “Partying is a state of mind,” Pinkie whispered to herself. “It’s like taking all your good feelings and sharing them with the world.” Wow, I gotta write that down. Pinkie thought to herself, deeply impressed by her own philosophical thinking. She returned to her seat, a lone stool next to Cranky. After a few drinks, the donkey had found himself sucked into the high-stakes world of faro. Ferrous dealt the cards, giving and taking chips as she drew pairs from the deck. Cranky sat at the table topped with green velvet and tried not to fixate on his pitiful earnings. He hadn’t won too many bets and was running out of time to redeem himself. Pinkie hopped on her seat and riffled through her saddle bag, searching for her guidebook and a pencil. Cranky chuckled as he watched her pull out a sundial, a sponge, and a bag of marbles. She then shoved half of her body into the bag before emerging with her desired objects. “I don’t know how you do it, kid. I’ve met many types of creatures, but few can do what you do. Never took you as the type to read during a shindig either,” Cranky noted while sipping his drink. “Mh’m mot!” Pinkie declared with her pencil in her muzzle. She spat it out and opened A Foal’s Guide to Greater Equestria slowly. “I’m not reading, I’m writing.” “Writing?” “Yep,” Pinkie confirmed. “After some careful deliberation, I’ve concluded that this book is…” “Stereotypical? Derogatory? Impressively offensive to about everyone and everything?” Cranky offered. “In need of a little updating,” Pinkie finished. “It’s old and really wrong about a lot of things. Like how banned behaviors are actually fun and how donkeys are a lot more than a bunch of stubborn and simple herders. And sometimes taking revenge and hostages can be super useful! It needs a lot of tweaking, and I think I can do it!” “Well, that sounds like a great idea kid,” Cranky affirmed, feeling much jollier than usual. “Thanks! Would you like to be a co-author? I’m trying to think of titles. How about: 'An Expansive Exploration of the Customs and Cultures of the Various Creatures Inhabiting Greater Equestria, As Observed by one Pinkamena Diane Pie.'” Cranky scratched his head. “I’m not too sure about being a co-author, but I think the title could use a bit of work.” “Right, I’ll work on it,” Pinkie mumbled, already scribbling out new ideas. Seeing Pinkie so focused caused Cranky to laugh again along with a few other players at the table. One of them was Calico, who proved herself a worthy opponent. Cranky found that she was a solid conversational partner when a little buzzed. Calico took a sip from her mug, then gestured it toward Pinkie. “Your chikabiddy’s got a whole lot of quirks to her. Cute as a button though. Y’all planning on sticking around.” “Oh, she ain’t mine,” Cranky clarified while placing a chip down on the six of hearts. “I’ll probably be sending her on her way soon. Speaking of which, have you seen Buffalo Bull or Calamity Jane?” “You’re talking about those young performers? I think I saw the fella heading toward the inn after the stand-off. I haven’t seen much of the girl today,” Calico answered, moving her chip from the eight of hearts to three of diamonds. “I heard that the fella got his heart broken this morning,” Ferrous informed them a little too enthusiastically. “He wrote a whole love song, and the gal booked it. He was stuck standing there with his guitar.” Ferrous could barely finish her sentence before she broke out in a fit of giggles. A few of the other players joined in, but Cranky didn't find the humor in it. He sipped his drink and waited for Ferrous to draw. The saloon owner pulled two cards, the first of which was a six of spades. Cranky groaned and slapped his forehead. “Better luck next time. Should’ve bet on five,” Ferrous quipped, plucking Cranky’s chip from the six of hearts. Cranky grumbled as the others tried and failed to hide their amusement. It was time for the final round, and he wasn’t sure what to bet on. Three cards remained, and if he could correctly guess what order the numbers were drawn he could win a sizable amount back. After studying the cards drawn, he figured it would have to be three of clubs, four of spades, and ten of spades. Pinkie wasn’t all too interested in faro. She preferred the runny and jumpy type of games, rather than the sit around and grumble type of games. She looked around the saloon and spotted Drudgery and Shorty, along with a few members of their respective militias, still deep in conversation. She hopped from her seat to head over, but Cranky stopped her with a question. “Hey kid, pick an order for three, four, and ten.” “My left ear is feeling a little dizzy, so go with four, ten, and three,” Pinkie instructed before wandering off again. “You heard the girl,” Cranky announced, placing his remaining chips by the deck. “I’m calling the turn, all or nothing! Four, ten, three!” The other players chuckled at Cranky’s sudden transition to outright recklessness. He sipped his drink and waited for the others to place their bets. Ferrous made a show of the final reveal, building up anticipation as she turned the cards. She flipped the four of spades, ten of spades, and three of clubs exactly. “Well, would you look at that, the donkey rises once more. Looks like you know how to call 'em,” Ferrous complimented, doubling the amount of chips Cranky had bet. Calico looked at Cranky incredulously and joked, “You weren’t kidding when you said she wasn’t yours! At least the kid actually knows how to win!” Even if the other players were laughing at him once again, Cranky couldn’t bring himself to care. He scooped up his earnings in his hooves and rejoiced in his change in luck. Today was ending up to be a pretty good day. At the other end of the saloon, Pinkie found a much more interesting distraction in the, newly established, Dodge Junction Peace Committee. Drudgery had made a point to pull up a chair for her, inviting the filly to sit by him. Although he did question why a filly was in a saloon at all, he was happy to have her company. He enjoyed seeing how delighted Pinkie became when he told her some good news. “Shorty’s gonna be the new sheriff!” Pinkie cheered. Shorty grinned as he spun his badge around on the table. “That’s right, kid. Ole Shorty’s on the up and up. We got a lot of deputies, but nopony to lead them.” “And I figured it ought to be Shorty,” Drudgery added. “We don’t always agree, but he certainly loves this town as much as I do.” Pinkie tapped the table in excitement. “Oh, that’s so wonderful! Everypony likes Drudgery again, Shorty gets to be home, and now everypony is happy!” Shorty and Drudgery smiled at the simple, but endearing proclamation. Drudgery sighed and allowed his shoulders to shrug as he sank into his seat. For the first time in some time, he felt relaxed. Even if everything hadn’t gone his way, he knew that today would at least end well. But, right when he was starting to feel in the clear, Pinkie reminded him why he truly wasn’t. “Oh,” she began, tapping her chin. “But what about your other friends? You know, the ones that stormed out of your office. They seemed pretty upset.” Drudgery rubbed his eyes while Shorty looked at him curiously. “Ain’t nothing. Listen, darling, not everypony can be pleased. Those fellas were upset about the railroad, but it’ll be running again soon. I’m sure they’re just fine.” “Okay,” Pinkie said, noticing the emphasis in Drudgery’s words. “I just hope everypony can be happy.” “You got a good spirit, kid. Sweet enough to rot a tooth,” Shorty joked, ruffling Pinkie’s mane as he did. “How about I get you a root beer?” Pinkie bit her lip anxiously, “I don’t know mister. That stuff is bad enough for grown ponies, little fillies really shouldn’t touch the stuff.” “Ah, don’t worry about it kid. It ain’t got the type of stuff that makes adults all wacky. It just has a whole lotta sugar. You’ll like it, I promise,” Shorty assured before leaving to get Pinkie a drink. Shorty eventually returned with a frosted mug brimming with freshly mixed root beer. The two stallions watched curiously as Pinkie took a tiny tentative sip. Her eyes became wide almost immediately as the flavors hit her taste buds. It was sweet, sweeter than anything she had tasted before. Sweeter than rock candy or even Nana’s mud cookies. She couldn’t even shout or sing. She just wanted another taste. “Told ya she’d like it,” Shorty gloated as Pinkie chugged her drink. Always needing to be the voice of reason, Drudgery spoke, “Let's just hope she won’t get a sugar rush. Poor things gonna need rest after a long day.” Shorty rolled his eyes, now understanding that being a wet blanket was just Drudgery’s nature. He was glad to be home, especially after years of knowing what it felt like to have none. After that level of isolation, even Drudgery’s quirks became an endearing part of living in Dodge Junction. As the trio carried on in good cheer they were interrupted by a yell, and then a few more. All eyes fell onto the makeshift dance floor as a couple of ponies engaged in a heated argument. Seeing that things were escalating, Sheriff Shorty stood up and shouted out. “Now, what’s got y’all in such a fuss! This ain’t the time to be doing all that!” One of the stallions arguing managed to explain some of the situation through slightly slurred speech, “Grist is trying to dance with my marefriend!” “I ain’t trying to dance with your marefriend!” rebutted the other equally drunk stallion, Grist. “I am dancing with your marefriend, and she’s dancing with me!” As the two stallions literally butted heads, an exasperated mare broke them up. “She’s not your marefriend Chopper, I am. That’s Daisy’s marefriend!” After seeing the two mares together, Pinkie had to admit they did look quite alike. Chopper scratched his head in deep confusion, letting himself be pulled away from Grist by his actual marefriend. Unfortunately, somepony still had to answer to Daisy. “Hey! What are you doing dancing with my marefriend!” shouted, presumably, Daisy, who had just returned from the bar with more drinks. Before the stallion or Daisy’s marefriend could speak, Chopper returned to the squabble with a definitive strike. He punched Grist, causing him to bump into a few other ponies. “What is wrong with you, you marefriend stealer!” Chopper yelled, suddenly stricken by a righteous fury. Shorty was quick to move as the situation got worse eerily quickly. Drudgery rose to join him, trying to calm the aggravated crowd. Pinkie backed up, searching for Cranky. It seemed that the donkey was looking for her too. Cranky figured maybe it was a good time to leave as the altercation escalated into an all-out brawl. It was getting late anyway, and he still needed to find Buffalo Bull. He beckoned for Pinkie to follow him, deciding to head to the inn and check for Buffalo there first. If not, he could at least get Pinkie to bed then continue his search alone. Despite the late hour, the streets were surprisingly lively, as the inhabitants celebrated the end of a mandated curfew. The night’s sky tinted the town in soft blues as the pair passed ponies smoking, lassoing, and licking salt. For the first time, Cranky was happy to have Pinkie at his side. He didn’t think he had drunk much, yet he felt much the opposite. Perhaps his tolerance wasn’t what it used to be. Pinkie kept him steady as they trudged along silently, only stopping when she came to a shocking realization. “I lost my marbles!” She shouted, shifting away from Cranky. “Yeah, no kidding kid,” Cranky joked, impressed by his own comedic chops. “I have to get them!” Pinkie shouted earnestly. “Marble gave them to me! I’m going back to Long Branch; I’ll be right back!” Pinkie zipped away, leaving Cranky standing awkwardly and unstably in the street. He couldn’t quite think of anything to yell after her, so he just let her go. “Guess I’ll wait here,” he muttered, plopping down onto his haunches against a storefront. While he waited, ponies passed him on the street, engaging in previously banned behaviors. Two mares strolled down the street, and one of them spat at the ground, causing the other to cringe in disgust. “Ew, would you quit that! It’s unsanitary!” shouted one of the mares. The other mare shook her head, running her tongue over her gums. “Ain’t nothing wrong with purging what my body naturally makes. It was a stupid rule anyway.” “It wasn’t stupid!” Her friend chided with a hoof stomp. “Flaming gum was spreading around town like, well, wildfire. Don’t you still have it!” “I do, I do. I’ll feel bad about it when somepony goes around setting drool on fire,” grumbled the other mare sarcastically, before continuing. “Now quit yapping, we got some geese to look at! ” The mares continued their walk, and two more silhouettes appeared from down the road. Cranky recognized Crowssbowjohn and Batsy approaching and tried not to look too disorderly in front of the new deputies. Luckily, they didn’t seem much better off by the looks of their wobbly steps. It appeared they had exchanged their namesakes, as Crossbowjohn swung around a bat and Batsy wielded a crossbow. Crossbowjohn jerked the bat around, accidentally nipping Batsy in the hoof. She yelped, stopping in her tracks to yell at him. “Watch it! Don’t just swing that thing around all willy-nilly. It requires a gentle touch, not that you would know anything about that heavy hooves,” Batsy admonished. Crossbowjohn, clearly feeling no remorse, laughed. “Ha! You’re probably the only pony in all Equestria who’d say something like that while holding a crossbow. Any moron can swing a bat good, not too many can shoot!” “Don’t be stupid. All you gotta do is aim,” Batsy demonstrated, cradling the weapon in the crook of her neck, “and shoot!” The bolt fired from the crossbow down the street, colliding with a rock. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all it did. The impact caused the projectile to ricochet off of several items. It flew around wildly before zooming towards Batsy and Crossbowjohn. The pair ducked, allowing the bolt to fly overhead and hit the window of the storefront, shattering it. Cranky ducked his head as shards of glass exploded over him. All three witnesses gawked at the scene, unsure how to process the near-impossible odds that led to the misfortune. While they stared, the owner of the store threw the door open and gasped at the destruction. Despite donning a sleep cap and night robe, he was wide awake. “What in the Sam Hill happened here!” He yelled, growing red in the face. “Which one of y'all broke my window!” “It was me, sir. I’m real sorry, I’ll get it fixed up as soon as I can,” Batsy offered awkwardly. The store owner rubbed his face. “This is a mess. Ain’t y’all the deputies? How am I supposed to feel safe when Shorty and his degenerate friends are in charge!” “Listen, we understand that you’re upset sir, but there's no need for name-calling. We’ll get your store fixed up first thing in the morning,” Crossbowjohn interjected, clearly irritated but trying to stay professional. The store owner sighed and reached into his pockets, pulling out a match and cigar. As he tried to light it, he grumbled to himself. “What is this world coming to? That railroad gets built, and next thing you know, the town is overrun by miscreants, burros, and cave dwellers.” “Hey! I told you to quit it with the name-calling!” Crossbowjohn shouted as he gave the store owner a shove. The store owner stumbled, dropping his lit match and cigar in surprise. Time seemed to slow as Cranky watched the match descend to the ground. After being silent throughout the entire altercation, he yelled as he scrambled back. The match hit the mixture of dirt and saliva underneath it and immediately burst into flames. Cranky was much too busy trying to escape to see the chaos that was rapidly forming around him. The heat of the fire singed the back of his hooves as he ran. He could hear ponies screaming as the intense light grew behind him. He fled into the darkness, attempting to outrun the deafening noise that disorientated him. His clumsy steps carried him through the alleyways, which stretched and expanded by an impossible degree. The newness of Dodge meant it still had many vacant and unfinished buildings, giving some corners of the town an eerie and ghost-like vibe. Cranky’s world jostled and swirled wildly, causing him to bump and crash into the surfaces and objects that littered the desolate area. He tried to stay upright but inevitably tumbled down in exhaustion. He closed his eyes to stop the world from spinning and came to the terrifying realization that he was alone. Unable to see in the darkness of the secluded area, he squinted his eyes and tried to use a nearby wall to guide his way. A war of thoughts was waging in his mind. He wanted to hide until things settled, but he also knew Pinkie was still out there. He was attempting to keep down the nausea bubbling in his throat when he heard soft voices in the dark. In his state, the voices became like echoes. Echoes of something long gone, yet terribly missed. Something like family, or a friend, or the one true love of his life. At any other time, the cautious and jaded donkey wouldn’t have sought the company of others. At any other time, Cranky would have minded his business and struggled in solitude. But at this time, something fundamental had shifted. In search of some form of security, he traversed the dark, and instead of finding light, he stumbled upon something he was never meant to see. He came upon a door and chose to slowly let himself in, pursuing the voices above all else. The room was empty aside from a few piles of lumber and scaffolding, indicating it was newly built and awaiting a purpose. The first voice that Cranky could clearly understand was a pleading and shaky one. “You got what you wanted, right? You’ve got everything and everypony. You don’t need me. I promise I’ll never speak. I won’t say a word.” “You promise?” somepony questioned with a scoff, “You dare make me one promise as you break another? Yes, I have just about everything and everypony, but that hold is founded on a mutual foundation. Do you know what that is?” “I-I it’s u-” the first voice stuttered. “It’s respect! Respect for those who are above you. Without it, all things crumble. You say you have a family. Guess what, everypony has a family! You are not special!” Cranky involuntarily sank down as he listened closely to the second voice. Now that it was close, he recognized its arrogant and ruthless tone. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he realized it was Idler, probably berating Clipper Ship. Cranky’s breath hitched, alerting Tramway, one of Idler’s poorly disguised royal guards, to look in his direction. The donkey pushed his face to the concrete, praying he wasn't seen. He dragged himself to the nearest lumber pile at an achingly slow pace. “What!” hissed Idler, “What is it?” Tramway could have sworn that he had heard something, but it was hard to distinguish anything in the darkness. He flexed his wings as he looked at his boss and his insufferable associate. “Nothing sir, carry on.” “Great, thanks for the go-ahead,” Idler muttered sarcastically, before continuing. “You know, it is because of you that I had to bring these two meatheads with me to this backwater town, right?” “N-no! It is because of the railroad. You all came to get Drudgery!” Clipper Ship disagreed vehemently. “You're somewhat right,” Idler admitted, “I came for the railroad, but they came to deal with you. It's an abominable embarrassment. To think, a muck-eater like Drudgery holds a higher social standing than you. You truly are nothing.” “W-what… What do you mean? Deal with me? What are you on about?” “Oh, dear. I truly understand you lack critical-thinking skills, but let's be serious,” Idler began in a mockingly sweet voice. “I, a high-ranking official, whisk you, a lowly pencil-pusher of a public worker, away to the middle of nowhere after instructing you to lie to everypony about your actual whereabouts. What do you think is going to happen?” There was a scuffling of hooves as Clipper Ship stepped back. “You can’t. They’ll know. Somepony has to know! I’ll scream, somepony will come!” “Who, your family? What could they possibly do? You vulgarians think this world will stop for you just because you teeter on the edge of the upper crust. This hick town won’t even care. If Ferrous followed our contingency plan, then this town is devouring itself by now.” “You can’t just get rid of me.” “Aw,” Idler cooed, “But I can. You said it yourself, I don’t need you. Ponies like you are easily replaced, and I’ll keep replacing you until I find somepony that works.” A sense of dread began to consume Cranky as Clipper Ship rambled out a defense. It was a losing battle, and every soul in the room knew it. Clipper’s shouts grew louder and more desperate by the minute, causing Cranky’s blood to run cold. It was too much to handle. Too much at any time, especially when he already felt so unstable. He cradled his head and shut his eyes in a confused attempt to make it all go away. And then he felt something pushing up against his body. He looked to his side and was horrified to see the darkened but unmistakable figure of Pinkie Pie. She had always had a way of finding him, even in places it should have been impossible to do so. She crawled up to him with her bag of marbles tucked under one hoof and a small smile on her face. “Cra-” Cranky covered her muzzle and pulled her close. She squirmed and looked at him curiously. Initially, she assumed that it was some intense game of hide and seek, but as she keyed into the tone of the argument, she too became still. “I won’t speak of any of this, okay? I just want out, I want out!” Clipper shouted in despair, calling out to anything and anypony. “You want out? Do you think you’ll be absolved because you had the decency to walk away first, even after you filled your pockets? You are not better than me. You are here because of your greed and your cowardice. You couldn’t even keep your feelings in check in Drudgery’s office!” “This isn’t right!” Clipper cried. “Think about what you’re doing, is it worth it?” “This is for the best. This way you won’t have to live out your days feeling guilty, and I don’t have to live out mine worrying about who that guilt might drive you to speak to. Don’t be scared, they will make this quick. I promise,” Idler explained simply. “No! No! Let go of me! Please! Please!” Clipper grunted, audibly struggling against something. Cranky’s muscles tensed as he attempted to control the violent tremors racking his body, uncertain if the shaking was his own. He could feel Pinkie’s tiny hooves gripping him with a jarring amount of strength. She was frightened but for a drastically different reason than he was. She wanted to help him. Because that was who she was. She was young, idealistic, and foolish. Cranky knew better, he knew he couldn’t fight them, and he knew he couldn’t reason with them. So, he pulled her even closer, practically covering her with his body. He could make out a bit of movement above the lumber pile, mainly the tops of heads. Against the walls, he could see shadows fighting and colliding. “I’m thinking of purchasing your wife a flower arrangement to express my condolences. Would she prefer lilies or carnations?” Idler asked casually, impervious to the savagery before him. Clipper Ship didn’t give much of a response, at least not much of a coherent one. He groaned and wept while the royal guards overpowered him. Even Cranky's limited view of the scene indicated there was no hope. The donkey did the merciful thing and adjusted his hold on Pinkie to cover her eyes, even as she struggled against him. Maybe she couldn’t see anything in the first place, but he wanted to ensure she wasn’t haunted by the things he saw. The pounding of Cranky’s own heart filled his ears, as everything came to a head. One of the guards exhaled, sending a wave of nausea washing over all in the room. Something ripped and cracked. A breath hitched and rattled. The struggle came to an end. The room became deathly quiet save for the heavy breathing of the exhausted guards. Clipper Ship had put up a greater fight than expected. Cranky breathed in unison with them, shaking off the encroaching numbness threatening to overtake his body. The donkey grimaced as he heard Clipper's limp body dropping to the floor. “One of you will have to stay with it,” Idler instructed coldly. “The other will come with me to fetch Ferrous. She will clean this up for us.” One of the royal guards, Stagecoach, frowned at this idea. He flicked the grime off of his previously pristine white hooves and asked, “Why can’t we just take care of this?” “Because I said so. Ferrous is as sycophantic as they come. She would gnaw off her own hoof if it meant staying in my favor. She already gave out the goods I supplied her. The newly appointed head deputy is also her protege, she is protected here,” Idler explained. Cranky needed to think of a way out, but fear and doubt paralyzed his mind. How could they leave quietly and without detection? Should they wait, or should they go? Should they have left sooner? How could he get him and Pinkie out? Did he have to get them both out? He might spare the kid, Cranky thought. She was a child after all, and she was a child that essentially came from nothing. She had no wealth or influence to sling around. She was easily ignored, at least by anypony worth appealing to. Cranky looked at the foal in his hooves, her face was shrouded in darkness, but in the glossiness of her eyes, he could see new emotions brewing. In Idler’s world, she wasn’t easily ignored, but easily disposable. We have to go now, Cranky thought decisively. It was as good a time as any, especially since Idler had taken to complaining about the “dirt” on his hooves. Cranky sprawled out and used his forehooves to drag himself toward the doorway. He could only hope that Pinkie was following. His euphoric anticipation reached new levels as the door grew closer at a painfully slow pace. For an inkling of a second, he believed that he could make it, that he could be free of this and escape without a word. But then, he heard it. His body convulsed and shivered as he heard the sound of something spilling all over the floor. Something like dice or tacks. Or marbles. He turned his head to see Pinkie sharing the same horrified expression as she held her freshly spilled bag of marbles. The pair were frozen where they crawled, unable to process what had happened. Idler, however, was much the opposite. He was quick to run towards the noise, a little too quick. His hooves went up while his body came crashing down. Marbles shot out and scattered under him, as he cursed and sputtered. He looked up at them with burning amber eyes, igniting his horn to cast a spell. But, before his aura could build, Stagecoach and Tramway came rushing to his side, befalling the same fate, and collapsing into a pile. “You imbeciles! Get up! One of you can fly for Celestia’s sake!” Idler screamed, failing to move the giant stallions off of him. Seeing that Idler and his goons were incapacitated, Cranky took his chance to run. He scooped Pinkie up and tossed her on his back. He could feel her wrapping her hooves around his neck as he burst out the door, and into the alleyway. Unable to slow his momentum, he slammed into the wall, but he kept moving. He ran recklessly, ignoring the haziness of his surroundings, in pursuit of any form of salvation. There were many times during his years of travel when he had to run for his life, but this was, without a doubt, the fastest that he had ever moved. At the end of the alley, he could see light and a lot of smoke.