Author's Note
And, as of now, THIS FIC HAS 100 LIKES! REJOICE! As you already may have heard, my chapters have been slow lately due to many things. As much as I enjoy writing these, it is very strenuous. I have a new story on the way, and I'd like to be working on that, as I think it has a lot of promise. So until I'm satisfied with the progress of the new story, this will be the last update you'll see. It will not be my last update in general, but this story is currently taking a break for a bit.
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It had been about a month and a half since Ice Cube came to Ponyville, but he hadn't forgotten about Earth. After a week of visiting Earth (mainly to escape the Pinkie-infested town from before), Ice Cube got a real sense of what was going on between ponies and humans. He had been seeing other humans around Ponyville before, and there were also some ponies living in the cities of Earth, which were generally enormous compared to pony cities.
The two races had gotten along fine. The ponies introduced magic to the humans, which eased life tremendously. The ability to control weather almost eliminated drought, and great strives to end hunger were made. In return, the ponies got many scientific and innovative technologies that provided opportunity for ponies of all races. Magic for ingenuity; yes it was going great. That's right, it turns out the human race had very little desire to conquer Equestria, and had intended more to form a friendly alliance with the beings who shared the universe with them. It's almost as if the Conversion Bureau is a load of shit.
Oh, and the ponies also got alcohol; which when mixed with poison joke, was like... wooaaah. Groovy.
Anyways, Ice Cube was back in Ponyville, and the children were no doubt wanting a story. Luckily for him, no crazy shit happened to him on his way to the school-house today. Just to make sure he wasn't in a chloroform dream, he pinched himself on the arm. Nope, not a dream. Still, Ice Cube packed his pistol in the holster just in case.
There didn't seem to be anything wrong with the school. And there weren't sounds of mass hysteria inside. Ice Cube wasn't used to days in Ponyville where nothing went wrong. He opened the school door with a confident enthusiasm.
"Yo, Cheerilee, I'm ba-" Ice Cube was cut off by the sight of Cheerilee. She had apparently turned into a stallion recently. Either that or they have a substitute. Probably the latter, but in this town, it's safe just to assume the weirdest.
"Hello. You must be Ice Cube." the substitute said with extremely little enthusiasm in his voice. The pony was gray and looked like the epitome of boredom. His eyelids were half-closed and his face didn't show a single bit of happiness or emotion. Even his cutie mark was dull. It appeared to be a yellow smiley face, just without the smile, instead having a straight line for a mouth.
"Uh, yeah. Who are you?" Ice Cube asked.
"John."
"You're name is John?"
"Yes."
"That doesn't sound like a pony name."
"I don't believe Ice Cube is a common Human name."
"Good point. Where's Cheerilee?"
"She's not here."
"No shit, really?" Ice Cube was getting bored just being around this pony. He was clearly having an effect on the foals. Some were playing with their pencils, some were sleeping, and Scootaloo was slamming her face on her desk. This pony had to be dealt with.
"Hey, I think there are donuts and coffee across town." Ice Cube said in a lame attempt to get the pony out unforcefully. He wasn't sure that the plan B he always had in store for cops would work on teachers, but it was worth a shot.
"I don't like donuts." the dull pony stated. Figures. Ice Cube went for a different approach.
"There's also some bread and water." Ice Cube tried.
"Hm. I could go for some bread and water. Thanks." the pony said in a monotone voice as he left the building.
That problem was dealt with, but the kids were still depressed. Ice Cube knew the solution.
"Story time, niggas!"
The children perked up a lot. A few of their smiles seemed to engulf their entire face. Diamond Tiara tried and failed to not look excited. Dumb bitch.
"Pinocchio."
There once was a man who worked as a woodsmith. I forgot his name, so we'll just call him Woody. Woody was old and lonely. His wife died years back and she never had children. She had so many failed pregnancies and failed births, they used to call her Miss Carriage. He didn't have many friends either, since everyone in town thought he was crazy. Most of the time, he would just sit on his porch and call passing kids 'whippersnappers' while shaking a cane at them.
Woody coped with his lonliness by making wooden dolls and giving them names like Sweetie Pie, Carrot Cake and Sugar-Tits. It helped him through his day-to-day normally, but having your only friends be lifeless dolls will get to you eventually. One night, he made a wooden doll that he named Pinocchio. In the sky, he could see a shooting star, which actually isn't a star at all.
"Wait. You're telling me that shooting stars aren't actually stars?" Scootaloo asked questionably.
"Yep." he replied, trying to get back to the story.
"That's a lie." said Diamond Tiara.
"No it's not. Look, can we get back to the-"
"Then what are they?" asked Sweetie Belle.
"Ugh. They're space rocks that burn up before they hit the ground. Now let-" Ice Cube said, being cut off again.
"Why do they burn up?" Apple Bloom asked.
"Because they do! Just let me-" Ice Cube was being interrupted again, and the questions were coming at him full force now.
"Do they get hurt when they burn up?"
"Do they ever hit the ground?"
"Will the space rocks kill us if they hit the ground?"
"Will they rape us first?"
"What's rape?"
"I think it's how babies are made."
"Ice Cube, how are babies made?"
"Who?" "What?" "Where?" "Why?" "How?" "Space rocks?" "Rape?" "Babies?" "Ice Cube?" "Ice Cube?" "Ice Cube" "Ice Cube!?" "Ice Cube!?!?" "ICE CUBE!?!?" "ICE CUBE!?!?"
*BANG*
The kids screamed in shock and stared at Ice Cube, who's pistol was facing upward, a small bit of smoke leaving the barrel. The room was dead silent until Ice Cube spoke up.
"Good! Now sit down, shut up, and enjoy my God damn story!" Ice Cube ordered, putting his gun back in it's holster. The kids seemed to get the message and kept their mouths closed. "Thank you. As I was saying."
The old man saw the space rock and made a wish. He wished that Pinocchio would become a real boy. When Woody went to sleep, the space rock came down and entered the house. I don't know how that happens, but it does. It cast one of its space rock spells on Pinocchio and gave him life. Though he was still a wooden doll, Pinocchio was alive, and that was something at least.
"I'm a real boy!" Pinocchio said excitedly.
"Actually, you're an animate piece of wood shaped like a real boy, but you aint' a real boy." the space rock told him.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Rocky: your friendly neighborhood space debris and personal guardian."
"Really? Damn. Do you sing?"
"What? Hell no. I don't even have a mouth."
"Then how are you talking?" Pinocchio asked.
"Well, um... fuck you, that's why."
"Look, just how do I become a real boy?"
"First, you have to stop being a piece of wood."
"Fuck you too." Pinocchio retaliated.
"I'm kidding, homeboy. First step: you have to prove you'll be a good person. Second step... Third step: Profit."
"I like profit."
"Then you better get to being a good person. Oh, and to keep tabs, I'll be putting this truth spell on you too." the space rock said before casting it. The rock shook a bit and stopped.
"There, you are now bound to tell the truth."
"What does it do?" Pinocchio asked inquisitively.
"Go ahead. Tell a lie." urged the space rock.
"Um, okay. Obama is a great president." Pinocchio said. Just then his dick grew long and hard... or was it his nose? Hell if I know. Let's just go with nose. His nose grew.
"See? Tell another." said the space rock.
"The other brothers actually can deny that they like big butts." again, his nose grew.
"Wrong. The other brothers can't deny. Baby got back!"
"Wow, your spell works. Okay, what now?" Pinocchio asked.
"I dunno. What do I look like; your fuckin' secretary? Figure it out. It's your journey, not mine."
"Okay, so where are some people I can be good to?"
"Try the strip club."
"Not a bad place to start." and with that, Pinocchio was on his way to the strip club.
When he arrived, he didn't notice anything that needed fixing, but there was a scantily clad woman standing in front of the strip club who seemed a little down. Pinocchio decided she would be first on his list of people to be good to. She was leaning up against a light pole when Pinocchio approached her.
"Hi, I know this might be weird for you, seeing as how I'm a talking doll and everything, but I couldn't help but to notice you're looking pretty suicidal right about now. Don't worry, I've come to ease your pain. Do tell, what sand has crawled up your barely-covered vagina?"
"It's my pimp. I've barely made any money today and when he finds out... I don't even wanna think about it." the hooker said with head held low. "But that's what I get for being a good-for-nothing prostitute anyway."
Pinocchio didn't want to admit it, but he had no clue what a prostitute was. Instead of telling her and making himself look stupid, he decided to roll with it to make her feel better.
"Don't talk like that. I know plenty of good prostitutes." Pinocchio sympathized. His nose grew longer, though.
"Really?" The prostitute asked, not noticing the size of his nose.
"Oh yeah. Plenty. Even my Mom was a prostitute." his nose continued to grow.
"Wait, really?"
"Mhmm. She even got an apprenticeship in high school. She was quite the novice in prostitutism. She helped kids with it too, and they all turned out to be great prostitutes."
"Are you serious?" the prostitute asked with worry.
"Am I serious? Is the Pope Catholic?"
"Uh, maybe you shouldn't be telling me th-"
"The answer is yes; the Pope is Catholic." Pinocchio said. To his surprise, his nose grew. "Woah... mindfuck."
"Did your nose just grow?" asked the woman of ill repute.
"Yes, yes it did. That's not important. What is important is me helping you. Now how can I do that?"
"Well, you can help get my pimp off my back." the prostitute replied.
"Sure thing. How do I do that?" Pinocchio asked.
"Well, come with me and I'll show you." the prostitute than walked Pinocchio down the avenue to an apartment, where they wouldn't leave for another half hour. Upon exiting the apartment, Pinocchio was wiping his giant nose with a towel, and the prostitute was the first to speak.
"Wow, that was amazing." she said, buttoning up her jacket. "I didn't know a nose could do that."
"Me neither. I didn't know you could do that with ping pong balls. You should be in the olympics." Pinocchio said.
"Thanks."
"But I still don't understand how this helps get your pimp off your back."
"Well, because you kinda have to pay me now."
"Huh? Pay you? You never said anything about me having to pay you." Pinocchio said with confusion.
"Well, yeah. What did you think that was for?" the prostitute asked in awe of his ignorance.
"I dunno. I'm like, 5 hours old. Also, I'm a doll. I don't have any money."
"Well, then I don't see how you've helped me."
"If so, then my services are no longer required." Pinocchio said. He walked away with a smile and a head held high. He was ready for the next pedestrian that needed help. The prostitute watched him go and sighed.
Pinocchio was strolling down the street in search of anyone who needed his assistance. He couldn't get over the fact that his nose had been smelling like fish since helping the prostitute, but that was the least of his worries. A few minutes passed and Pinocchio walked by a very troubled-looking man sitting on a bench.
"Hey mister, you look like shit. How can I help?" Pinocchio asked with a smile. His nose grew again.
"Dammit, nose, I didn't mean literal shit." Pinocchio whispered to his appendage. A few seconds went by and his nose shrunk a little.
"Wow, a talking doll. Well for starters, you could kill that guy over there." the man said, pointing a finger at another man moving things inside a house across the street.
"What? Why would I do that? That isn't a good thing to do." Pinocchio retorted.
"Kid, trust me when I say that bastard deserves everything he gets. The world will be a better place without him."
"Sorry, but I'm not sure I should do that."
"You said you wanted to help me, right?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"But nothing. If you want to help, this is how you do it. Besides, the law doesn't say anything about a doll killing someone; not that the asshole can be classified as a human being, but I digress."
"Um... okay." Pinocchio said quietly. He took a nervous walk down the street, looking back to the man, who urged him forward. Pinocchio was in a near panic. On one hand, he would be helping someone; but on the other, he'd be murdering someone.
'WhatDoIDoWhatDoIDoWhatDoIDoWhatDoIDoWhatDoIDo' he thought.
In his rapid thoughts, he didn't realize he had already crossed the street. Before he could react, the man he was sent to kill tripped over Pinocchio's giant nose and fell backwards, along with the large television he was lifting, which fell on his chest. The man lied on the ground moaning in pain, but tried to get up anyway. After the man was on his feet, Pinocchio tried to console him on his injury. The man insisted that he was fine, but was stumbling dizzily all over the place. Eventually he stumbled into the street and Pinocchio tried to warn him.
"Sir, you're in the street. Hurry up and get out."
"I told you, I'm fine. I'm gonna be oka-" the man was cut off by a station wagon to the side. He was thrown quite a few yards away and Pinocchio could only gape in horror as the man did not get up.
Pinocchio continued to stare at the scene before looking over to the man on the bench, who gave a smile and a thumbs up. Pinocchio, in shock, continued on his way to find other people to help, though unsure of how well it was working. The man on the bench ran to catch up with him.
"Hey, nice work, kid. Here's twenty bucks. Don't spend it all in one place." the man said before parting ways. "That'll teach him not to look at me funny."
Pinocchio eyed the twenty dollar bill in his hand. He could always go back and pay the prostitute like she wanted. Then again, he could just go to the bar and drown his sorrow. Like any sensible person would, he chose the high road and went to the bar.
At the local brewery, Pinocchio was busy drinking his troubles away. After finishing the fifth beer, he motioned for the bartender to come over to him.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" the bartender asked, cleaning a glass as he did.
"Don't you think you should mind your own business?" Pinocchio said with a drunken drawl. "You know the deal, Jack. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer."
The bartender shook his head and walked off to serve another customer. Pinocchio looked up from his drunken stupor to see a black man sulking further down the bar. Pinocchio got up onto his feet and was barely able to stumble over to the man. He propped himself onto a seat next to the man and sat for a few minutes before speaking.
"Hey, buddy, you're looking down." Pinocchio said.
"My woman left me. Kicked me out of my own house." the man's deep voice was soothing to Pinocchio's, er... let's call them 'ears'.
"Yeah? I know that feel; I just killed somebody."
"Wait, what?"
"Yep. One second I'm walking, the next second, he trips on my nose and splat."
"Damn. I'm pretty sure I don't know that feel."
"You should be happy about that. So anyways, is there any asinine task I should do for you to help you."
"Help me? I'm pretty sure the court would side with me anyway. I'll survive. However, you might need my help. Why are you so intent on helping me anyway?" the man asked in his smooth, black voice.
"Because if I help enough people, I can become a real boy."
"Hm. A real boy, huh? What's your name, son?" he said with a friendly smile.
"Pin-cock-macchiato." Pinocchio forgot his actual name in his drunkenness.
"Well, Pin-cock-macchiato, it's well and good that you want to help people, but sometimes you just need to stop looking, and let someone help you." he emphasized the 'you' with a gentle finger on Pinocchio's wooden arm.
"Let others help me?" Pinocchio pondered.
"Yes, Pin-cock-macchiato. Sometimes, to help others, you have to let others help you."
"He's right you know." behind them floated the space rock that sent him on this three-hour journey. "You have to let others change your life before you can change others'."
"So you're saying that all this time, I've tried so hard to improve others' lives, but I should have taken some time to get a perspective?" Pinocchio asked.
"You got it, little man." the black man said with a smile.
"That's right." the space rock aknowledged.
"That... that's the gayest thing I've ever heard." Pinocchio said.
"Well, you get it at least. And that's the minimum requirement, so I'll just turn you into a real boy now." said the space rock.
"Sweet."
The space rock shook a little more and Pinocchio's wooden form began to change into the body of a real boy. After the ritual was complete, Pinocchio looked down to see that his pants were no longer painted onto him and he could physically look into them.
"Hey space rock, I think you put my long nose into my pants."
The space rock chuckled and reassured him. "No. That, my good boy, is a penis."
"Oooo, peniiis. So what happens now?" Pinocchio asked, removing his eyes from his new favorite appendage.
"Well, I was only your personal guardian until you finished your quest, which is now. So I guess I should just be going." the space rock floated towards the door.
"But wait, who's gonna be my guardian now?" Pinocchio asked.
"Chill, nigga. This good fellow here will be your personal guardian." the rock motioned towards the black man before flying out the door of the bar. The pedestrians and bartender had already left at the sight of a talking meteor.
"Wait, what. But he's just a normal guy." Pinocchio called out. The black man in question held out a piece of paper towards Pinocchio, who took it and saw it was a phone number.
"Well, guess I'd better be going now. Good bye, Pin-cock-macchiato." the man said, turning walking for the door. Now, Pinocchio could see the man was very overweight.
"What? But I don't even know who you are yet."
"Any time you need me, you know what number to call." the man said on his way to the door.
"Oh and by the way..." he said, turning back to Pinocchio.
"The name's Biggie." the man tipped his hat and vanished into the air as a ghost would.
Pinocchio was stunned, but had a new sense of resolve. He walked... well, he stumbled out of the bar, ready for anything life had to throw at him. He raised his head into the air and yelled with all his willpower.
"GET READY WORLD! CAUSE PIN-COCK-MACCHIATO IS HERE TO FUCK YOUR ASS!"
Pinocchio then passed out drunken on the sidewalk, where a homeless man took his socks.
After waking up, he went to live with Woody happily for the rest of his life. Well, until he turned 18, when he moved out. But after that, he lived happily for the rest of his life.
And I mean it this time. No rapes or murders. The end.
The kids looked confusedly at each other for a moment before Sweetie Belle spoke up.
"No rapes or murders? But... you always have rapes and murders in your stories."
The group of school-ponies gave a collective disappointed "Awww".
"What? You kids are fucked in the head." Ice Cube said.
"But it just didn't match up to the other stories." Silver Spoon replied.
"Well, I thought I'd shake it up. Besides, there was plenty of cursing, and there was one murder." Ice Cube pleaded his case.
"That's true. Maybe we're just getting too used ta yer stories, ya know?" Applebloom said.
"Yeah. Maybe you should take a break from reading. Just for a little bit, so we can have something to look forward to." Sweetie added.
"I guess. Well, I'll see you little niggas another day then." Ice Cube gave his farewells before opening the door to the school house.
"Bye nigga!" Twist shouted.
"Bye nigga!" the other kids repeated. Ice Cube waved a hand and closed the door behind him before realizing there was no one there to teach them.
Ice Cube continued on his way home, thinking what he would do for a couple weeks in place of telling stories.
I could teach some ponies around town how to rap. Ice Cube thought, a smile forming on his face. He'd already made up his mind on the matter.
Dis' is gon' be good.