Patches and Bill sat in the chariot flying through the air, drawn by two stout male ponies flapping their broad, feathered wings. Since there were no reigns on the ponies, the two men sat facing backward, their legs dangling out over the countryside hundreds of feet below. Both were holding on tight.
They watched the city (whose name they forgot to ask) recede away from them, although it never vanished from sight.
“Patches, I’m guessing the ponies sometimes ride in this. Isn’t that weird? Horses pulling horses in carriages?”
“Rickshaw, Bill.”
Bill shut up.
At last, they arrived in Ponyville. They could still see the city, looming in the distance. It was starting to dawn on Patches and Bill that their current situation was in some way unusual. However, they still agreed this wasn’t as strange as the time they found honest to God zombies on a farm in Iowa. Things were really going to hell back home.
They landed in the middle of the town square. Bill was awed by the variety and the colours of all the ponies passing by. A few stared at them.
Patches singled out Twilight Sparkle the moment she started walking toward the chariot.
Before she addressed the two men, she thanked the stallions who brought them for their service. Then she walked around the chariot to meet the true newcomers.
“Hello, gentlemen. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I have been asked to…”
Patches stood up. Twilight’s head came up to his stomach.
“…uh…to…ensure that the investigation goes smoothly and quickly.”
“I’m Patches. I’m here to make sure the investigation goes”
Bill stood up. The chariot flew away.
“The citizens of Ponyville are counting on you to make the town safe again as soon as possible”
“Well, I don’t know how to make a town feel safe, but I can certainly make a person who has broken the law feel fear”
Patches became briefly lost in some of his fondest memories. He cracked his knuckles and smiled.
Twilight didn’t know how to react to this kind of statement. She turned to the other human. She hoped this one wouldn’t sound so sick-minded.
“Hello, sir. What’s your name?”
“Your body is the most beautiful colour I have ever seen”
Twilight’s jaw, ears and tail dropped.
“…Thank you?”
“Your eyes, too. You have the most beautiful eyes.”
“I’m…I’m flattered. Really. I just…” She started to back away.
“Your voice also. You are a beautiful creature”
Twilight looked to Patches for help.
“Do you want me to get him to stop?”
She stammered something incoherent.
“That usually means yes.”
Patches cupped his hands around Bill’s ear.
“You are the most beautiful…”
“BILL!”, Patches shouted into his cupped hands, “What’s the factorial of negative one?”
Bill seemed to enter a trance.
“The factorial of negative one is negative one times the factorial of negative two is negative two times the factorial of negative three is…” He was staring into space and rocking himself slightly.
“There you go. He’s forgotten all about you. I promise. Just try not to look so cute around him”
Twilight gave Patches a look that was either trying not to look cute, or trying to say “How am I supposed to try not to look cute?”
Patches thought the second interpretation to be rather vain of her.
Twilight thought there was no way to deal with this.
Patches rubbed his hands together.
“All right, let’s get down to business. I want to see the corpse.”
Twilight’s nerves were fraying. She felt herself shake at this remark.
“She’s in Applejack’s barn”
“Good. I could go for a roll in the hay”
"...is negative thirty-five times the factorial of negative thirty-six is..."
Patches slapped the back of Bill's head. Bill stopped.
This chapter is just filler, I know. I felt I needed to publish something before too long.
Next chapter we'll really get the ball rolling. I've done some great brainstorming with the original co-author of the original Patches and Bill screenplay (let's call him Paradox). We got a good chunk of the actual "mystery" part of this mystery story conceived.
I haven't worked with Paradox since high school. I am extremely grateful to him, as he is always a reliable way to overcome the stagnation that often occurs when you are writing something as a hobby. I wish to point out that Paradox is NOT a brony. He's simply interested in writing a good story.
I am also extremely thankful to everyone who has read, rated and commented on this story: Y'all have no idea how much you're doing to bolster my confidence that this My Little Story is worth writing in its entirety.
Now I'll stop writing this note and get to work on the next chapter!
Alan Smithee