//------------------------------// // Crates and Wagons // Story: Double Trouble // by CometDweller //------------------------------// (Author's Note: This is my first story EVER, so if you would like to comment on how I can make the story better or barrage me with grammatical errors, that's cool. By the way, after I publish this I wont be exactly sure when I can write another chapter, or if I'll even want to for that matter. I'm throwing ideas at a wall and seeing if they stick. I don't plan stories, they usually just come as I think of them. So, if this actually comes out well then frimmyfrantastic. :D) It's high noon and the sun beats down on a long stricken trail. An old pony steers his wagon with supplies for his customers in numerous towns in the neighboring lands. The pony was wrinkled from head to toe, and had the scars of a life of pure hard work. He had a light green coat with white hair. His eyes were scrunched up behind a large pair of thick glasses. He sported a crate and wagon cutie mark *go figure*. Even though he had the build of a once peak colt, it showed that retirement was inevitable. He carried crates of all shapes and sizes for all sorts of purposes, but unbeknownst to the old colt, he was harboring some rather odd cargo. Along the side of the wagon read, "Superb Service of Satisfying Supplements"; the slogan for his one man company. The wagon itself was decrepit. It's four wheels barely held up its wooden platform, and every passing foot was riddled with wabbling, rattling, creaking, clattering, shaking, and breaking. The wagon would occasionally hit bumps castling its cargo into the air, landing with a thud. The 'Handle with Caution' boxes sounded more and more like an orchestra of colliding glass. Along with the numerous clanging and bashing, two voices sounded in unison "BUCK!". In the back of the wagon sat two fairly large crates, one read 'bananas' and the other 'carrots'; each with their appropriate color. The old pony didn't seem to notice the sometimes loud conversations under the noise of the wagon. He just stared off into space as he walked at a painfully slow rate. "You know, we wouldn't be in crates if you just let him have the money." announced the orange crate. "Hey shut up. I made the trade and he jumped me outside! You were there." rebutted the yellow crate. "Yeah well, would you rather have your bits, or a knife in your ass." proudly stated the orange crate. "Shut up." "No you." "Buckface." "Jackass." "..." "..." "Hey, can I have a banana?" asked the orange crate. "Yeah, hold on... here's a good one." Each crate had a hole the size of a large cork, for the occasional liquid products. "Here it comes." says the yellow crate. A banana appears out of the hole and is passed to the adjacent crate. "You wanna carrot?". "Yeah sure." Like before, a carrot appears out of the orange crate and is passed to the other. Under the noise of the clattering the two eat their fruit, however a faint sound of crunches emanate from the yellow crate. Outside the crates, the old geezer breaks from his state of mind. He stops the wagon and unstraps himself. At once, all the crates stop their clanking, clashing, and shuddering leaving an ominousness silence. The old pony shakes free from his harness and lets out a loud sigh as he makes his way around the wagon. The orange crate hastily whispers, "What the hay! Oh great we're really screwed now. He's coming over." The yellow crate whispers back in the same tone, "It was just a carrot, no way he could've heard that, no no no no." "Just shut up and don't say anything. If he finds out I'll jump him, he's just an old pony." "You're not beating up an old pony." boldly says the yellow crate. "Shhh hold on, he's coming. Oh Celestia." The old pony slowly walks to the back of the wagon, each hoofstep getting closer and closer. The slow motions made the air tense for the crated ponies. It wasn't until a minute passes that the geezer makes his way to the back of the wagon. He stood there just staring at the two boxes. In his broken vernacular, "Ahh hay, I tauwt I her'd somtin. Bah." He gazed at the two crates carefully, meanwhile the two ponies are panicking silently in their crate. "Somtin just ain't right, wat wasit. I know I her'd somtin." He hops onto to the wagon and starts to stare off into his surplus of supplies on board. Then suddenly, "I dun knew it!" He starts to stomp his way over to the food crates, each step becoming louder than the other. The two ponies are now seconds from heart attacks, as their hearts are racing. The geezer slams his hoof on the yellow crate. "I dun knew it" he repeats. In the ponies mind they know their cover is blown. "MAH DAM LUNCH FELL OVER. BAH. Gre't look at dat! My dandyl'on sammich is ru'ind." The old pony picks up the bits of his sandwich and places them back in the lunchbox that laid open on the floor. Inside the crates, both ponies have utter dumbfounded looks on their faces. The carrot crated pony manages to fit in a silent facehoof. The geezer jumps of the wagon and slowly makes his way back to the front and proceeds to pull the wagon. The drowning noise of the clattering ensued. "Oh my Cellestia. A sandwich!" yells out the yellow crate. "I think my heart just stopped, tell my future marefriend I love her." retorts the orange crate. They both laugh to each other. "I bet she'll be ugly." jokes the orange crate. "Just count yourself lucky that you have my good looks." "Just because you were born first doesn't mean I take after you, idiot." A small chuckle sounds from the yellow crate. "I'm just kidding, but can you imagine." "Ha yeah, she'll have warts and boils and a triple chin and weigh like a ton." comments the yellow crate. Both ponies laugh again, this time even harder. They talked and laughed for another few hours. Talking was the only thing they could do to prevent boredom from setting in. After their conversation finished a long silence rolled over. Both ponies were minding their own business in their crates. They liked to talk to each other, but at the same time they appreciated the silence. It gave them time to think and just relax. "Hey Comet." announces the orange crate, breaking the silence. "Yeah Trade." responds the yellow crate. "Will we ever stop running..." Another short silence surrounds the crates. "Look Trade... we just need a good place to start off again. We'll be fine." " I know, its just I've been thinking of ma and pa lately." "... Trade... lets leave the past in the past. We're fine now and that's all that we need to care about." "Yeah... alright... So do you know where we're going anyway?" "I don't know. I just hope its somewhere with a place for us....... hey Trade, thanks." "Thanks for what?" "For being my brother." "No prob." The sun starts to set in the distance as the wagon halts again. The old pony routinely stops to light a couple of lanterns and take a break. He leans on a post to eat his long savored meal. In the dim light of the lantern, the post the geezer leaned on read 'Two miles Ponyville'. He finished his meal and continued to pull the wagon, just as the sun finally set. The crated ponies fall asleep in their beds of fruit, as the wagon pushes on. In Trade's mind he repeats the same sentence in his sleep, "A new town, a new future, please...."