//------------------------------// // Rock Hard Abs // Story: Taking A Job For Granite // by xjuggernaughtx //------------------------------// Rock Hard Abs   Trixie tried to roll out of bed, but gasped as she swung her legs down to the floor.  It felt as though somepony had stabbed her in the ribs with a hot butter knife.  Gritting her teeth, she pressed her hooves against her side and silently cursed Humble and his stupid lullaby cart. That ignorant farmer!  He’s not just moronic.  He’s downright dangerous.  When I let the authorities in on this place, they’ll probably commit him!  Steeling herself, Trixie hopped off the bed and placed a steadying hoof on her trailer wall.  The pink strips of skin where the harness had rubbed her raw burned as she moved.  It felt like she had been branded. Trixie stretched a few times, trying to loosen up the cramping muscle in her side.  It was slow going, but eventually she was able to both stretch to the ceiling and bend down to touch her back hooves. Twisting carefully around, Trixie checked the clock.  It was two in the morning. Perfect! she thought, rubbing her hooves together.  While the hayseed is snoring away, I’ll run to town and bring back the police.  Trixie quickly glanced out the window.  Trixie feared it would be too dark to make the road out, but the stars and the waxing moon shed ample light.  Glancing at the nearby farmhouse, she grinned. All of its lights were out. Time to go.  I hope you're ready for some company, Humble.  When I get back with the cops, you’re going from the rock farm to the funny farm. Trixie carefully turned the knob on her trailer door and walked slowly down her steps, carefully avoiding the one that squeaked.  The night was so still that each step that she took seemed like a thunderclap.  Her eyes darting back and forth, Trixie tip-toed around the trailer. “Well, hello there!” Trixie screamed, jumping into the air.  As she had rounded the trailer, she had nearly run into Humble, who was polishing a large boulder with a rag.  As she landed, her rear legs collapsed and she sat down hard.  Massaging her chest, she gulped down a few steadying breaths. It felt like her heart was beating at four times its normal rate. “Careful now,” Humble said, dipping his rag in a large tub of ‘Rock Wax’.  “I’d be much obliged if you’d watch the noise.  The little rocks are a-sleepin', you know.”  He began vigorously rubbing a section of the boulder until it gleamed. “Wha-what are you d-doing up?” Trixie asked, still feeling a little light-headed. “What’s it look like?” he answered, squinting at the rock.  He applied a little more wax and rubbed at a dull section.  “Chores.” “At two in the morning?!” Trixie exclaimed, goggling at him.  “We just went to bed a few hours ago!” Humble stopped, turning to her with a hoof on his hip. “That’s right,” he returned.  “A pony's mind teems with unseemly thoughts when the body gets too much rest. Here on the farm, we shoot for about three hours a night. It keeps dreams to a manageable minimum.” Suddenly, he squinted at Trixie, slowly moving his pipe back and forth in his mouth.  “So, what are you doin' up, hmmm?” “Oh, well, Trixie was, um…” Trixie said, lowering her ears as she cringed away from the farmer’s scrutiny. That miserable old toad! He was waiting for me! she thought.  Trying to adopt an air of casual nonchalance, Trixie dusted herself off and ran a hoof through her hair.  “Oh, The Great and Powerful Trixie read somewhere that farmers are early risers, so she thought she’d surprise you.  But she supposes the joke is on her!” Trixie forced out a belly laugh, but quickly stopped as the sound came echoing back.  In the stillness of the night, the echoing laughter seemed to change in pitch.  As it returned, the laughter had a mocking quality. It sounded like the whole farm was laughing at her. Humble arched an eyebrow, but said nothing further.  Dipping his rag once again, he hummed softly as he returned to work on the boulder.  Trixie closed her eyes and wondered how any one pony could be so mind-bogglingly dull. He’s humming the same note.  Just over and over, she thought.  Well, at least a pony with so little imagination probably won’t wonder where I’m going if just casually wander off.  Affecting a sudden interest in the farmhouse, Trixie began to trot off.  She winced as Humble’s voice followed her. “Well, since you’re up, miss, you can help me with Tom here.”  Trixie hung her head as she wearily turned around and made her way back. “You’ve named the rock?” she asked, snatching a rag from Humble and curling her lip at it when he turned away. “Of course not,” he replied, patting the rock.  “He was already named Tom when he got here.”  Trixie shook her head.  There were just too many things wrong with that last sentence for her to get her mind around. “What do you mean 'he was already named Tom when he got here'?” she said, her brow furrowing as she tried to make some sense of things.  “Got here from where?  Are you telling Trixie that some pony dropped off their pet rock for you to take care of?”  Humble shook his head as he pulled out a small pick, scraping dirt from a small fissure in the rock’s surface. “I came out this mornin' and he was just here,” he said, working the stubborn piece of dirt from the crevice. “Come outta there!  Ah, that’s got it.”  Trixie skipped out of the way as the dirt flew past her. “It happens sometimes.  Rocks hear about the farm and they come by.” “The rock just dropped by for a visit?” Trixie asked, rubbing the space between her eyes. She'd been up for less than an hour and she was already getting a headache. “Don’t be foolish!” Humble snapped.  “He’s not visitin'!  He’s come to stay.”  Humble patted the rock affectionately.  “He’s lookin' for a better life.  Sometimes rocks do that when they’ve experienced some trauma.” “Then how do you know his name is Tom?” Trixie said, throwing her hooves up.  She hated the farmer more with each passing minute of the conversation, but she had to admit that he was somewhat fascinating. He's like a living trainwreck, she thought.  You just can't look away. If this is some act, it's a good one. He's totally dedicated to his delusions! “Well,” Humble said after a long pause, “doesn’t he just look like a Tom to you?”  As he polished the rock once again, Trixie could see her confused expression in the mirror-like reflection. Gah, I'm a mess! she thought as she pulled a hoof through her fly-away hair.  I should have just slept in.  This conversation is like a nightmare, anyway. “But that’s neither here nor there, miss,” Humble said, depositing the dirty rags in a nearby bin.  As he lifted the lid, the bin let out a strong, acrid odor, and Trixie pinched her nose closed with a hoof.  It reminded her of the hoof polish she used to use on stage, but several times more pungent. “Ugh!” she gasped. “What is that?” “Mineral spirits,” Humble said, clamping the lid back into place. “It’s the only thing that gets the wax out of the rags.” Fanning the air gently with his hat, he raised his head to look up at the moon. Trixie gagged as a cloud of the foul smelling vapors settled over her. “Nice that you’re up at a decent hour. May as well get started.” He trotted off toward a rickety outbuilding. Grumbling, Trixie followed. --- A shiver went up Trixie’s spine as Humble tugged at the building’s ancient metal door. Covered in rust, the hinges were squealing in protest, setting Trixie’s teeth on edge. She took a few cautious steps away as Humble rammed his shoulder into the door, grunting as it opened foot by foot. “Oof!” he grunted as he slammed into the door one last time. “I reckon I’ll have to replace these hinges soon.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s a terrible fright to growin' rocks to see shaped metal. It always causes an uproar. Those with some ore in 'em worry they could be next. The ones without just get swept up in the excitement.” Trixie scanned the farm, pointing incredulously at a nearby downspout. “Trixie will probably regret asking, but what are you going on about?” Trixie tapped the metal door with a hoof. “Half of this farm is metal.” Humble nodded, brushing flakes of rust from his shoulder. “Oh, ayuh. To be sure,” he said, walking into the building. “But it’s all old, you’ll notice. Weathered.” Trotting off to a far wall, he began to pull large, rubber mats from a neat pile. Stirring up huge clouds of dust, he began dragging them to the center of the room. “Well, I suppose you think that’s because I’m lazy,” he said, looking up at her suddenly with a fierce gleam in his eye. “No,” Trixie said immediately, “You may be many things, but lazy isn’t one of them.” Tiresome, insane, and cruel might fit, though, she thought. Satisfied, Humble threw down the mats. “Good of you to notice, miss,” he said, returning to grab another stack of mats. “Just spread those around evenly on the floor. Anyway, like I was saying, stones don’t like to see worked metal. It spooks 'em.” Sighing, Trixie threw the mats around as violently as she could manage. The loud whapping sound they made helped to drown out the old pony’s yammering. “They don’t notice the old fixtures so much, but new, shiny metal makes the rocks hard to work with. They shy away.” “Then why don’t you just paint everything?” Trixie asked before clamping her mouth closed. Celestia’s grace, Trixie! she thought. Don’t encourage him! With a grunt, Humble picked up another load of mats. Balancing them on his back, he returned slowly. “It doesn’t make any difference to the rocks,” he said. “They know what’s underneath. You can put on a Hearth’s Warming Eve sweater, but I’ll still know it’s you under there, understand?” Trixie slapped a hoof across her face, slowly pulling at the skin beneath her eye. “If I say yes, will you stop talking about rocks?” Trixie growled as she dumped the mats in front of her. “Probably not,” Humble replied. “Seems you don’t enjoy silence, and if I’m not talkin', then you're sure to start. I prefer intelligent conversation.” Trixie’s mouth dropped open, but Humble walked over to a massive, tarp-covered object before she could formulate a sufficiently stinging reply. Snarling, she kicked at the pile of mats. Humble grabbed a corner of the tarp, tugging at it and fretting as it caught on something. Despite her irritation, Trixie glanced up to see what the old stallion was up to. Whatever was under the sheet of canvas was making a strange noise. As Humble pulled away the tarp, it revealed a large wheel, subdivided into twelve segments. As the wheel slowly revolved, pegs on the segment’s edges caused a rattling wooden arrow to oscillate back and forth. Trixie sighed and rolled her eyes as she examined the bizarre device. Each of the slices had been painted a different shade of grey. While Humble banged on a stubborn metal locker nearby, Trixie moved closer, reading each segment. 1 – High Jumps 2 – Rest 3 – Run in Place 4 – Rest 5 – Side Bends 6 – Rest 7 – Sit-ups 8 – Rest 9 – Lunges 10 – Rest 11 – Dead Lift 12 – Rest Trixie's eyes traveled down from the wheel to the haphazardly arranged mats, and she sighed, squeezing the bridge of her nose. He’s going to put these rocks out and pretend to make them exercise, she thought. I have performed for royalty. I have been on hand for the launching of ships and the dedication of symphony halls. And now, I’m wasting my precious time and vast talent on— “Ah, there we are!” Trixie regretted turning back to Humble immediately. He was dressed in a grey leotard with grey leg warmers. He had even taken off his hat and replaced it with a headset style microphone. This is it, she thought. I’ve hit rock bottom. Seconds later, she grimaced. Now, I’VE got rocks on the brain! Humble began a stretching routine, his joints popping loudly as he contorted his body in ways that Trixie didn’t believe possible for such an old stallion. Trixie wrinkled her nose and turned away as he spread his legs widely before her, stretching his groin. “Miss, head outside and turn left,” he said, grunting and stretching. “When you round the corner, you’ll see a wheelbarrow with some young rocks in it. Just bring 'em on in and set 'em on their mats.” Trixie decided that fading into the background was her best option. If she could keep Humble happily occupied in his fantasy, then she could just quietly stand in a corner until the day was done. Nodding, she made her way outside and retrieved the wheelbarrow. It was incredibly heavy, and she nearly tipped it over rounding the corner again. Lightly sweating, she groaned as she pushed it into the gym. “Ayuh, that’s fine,” Humble said, walking over. He grabbed a rock and placed it in the center of a nearby mat. “Just distribute 'em around, miss.” Sighing, Trixie muscled a rock out the wheelbarrow and dumped it on the closest mat. “Careful now,” Humble said, frowning at her. “No sudden movements. I can’t risk 'em gettin' a strained muscle at this stage of their development.” “Okay, that’s it!” Trixie cried, tossing a rock roughly onto the mat before her. “Let’s get one thing straight! Trixie is not playing your game. Rocks don’t grow, they don’t care about loud noises, and they don’t have muscles! Trixie has generously allowed you these fantasies, but her patience has come to an end!” Trixie glared at the stallion, breathing hard. “Oh, is that right?” he replied, poking her in the chest with a hoof. “If they don't grow, how does a rock appear in a field you plowed last year? If they don’t mind loud noises, why do they come chargin' down the mountains when you yell?” Humble scooped up one of the rocks and thrust it directly in front of her eyes. “And if they don’t have any muscles, why aren’t they flat as a griddle cake? Huh?!” He shook the rock back and forth for emphasis. “How do they hold up bridges and roofs?” “Well, uh, that is…” Trixie sputtered, searching for a rational explanation. “That’s what I thought,” Humble replied coolly. “Now get in position.” Trixie trotted over to the wheel and tested its action. Pulling down on the pegs, it spun smoothly. As the arrow rattled, the wheel slowed, finally landing on ‘8 – Rest’. “What are you about, filly?” Humble said, scratching behind his ear. Trixie spread her hooves wide at her sides. “What else would Trixie do?” “I’ll be spinnin' the wheel and leadin' the exercises,” Humble said, taking his place before the rows of mats. “I need you to get the rocks movin'.” He made a minute adjustment to the rock in front of him, rolling it into the middle of the mat. “Sometimes, they get lazy. It’s in their nature. They'll probably need a little motivation.” “And what exactly does that entail?” Trixie growled through clenched teeth. “Oh, not much,” Humble answered. “You'll just need to help 'em along. Just follow my lead and you’ll see.” Reaching out, Humble gave the wheel a spin. Rotating rapidly, it took several seconds to begin to slow. When it finally came to a rattling stop, it landed on ‘3 – Run in Place’. “Ah, here we go!” he said, picking up a rock and placing it on his back. “I’ll tell you when to stop.” Trixie gently beat her head into a nearby wooden pillar as Humble began to run in place. There was no way she was getting involved in this lunacy. Shaking her head, she turned and marched off. “Oh, miss,” said Humble. “I wouldn’t be so eager to leave, if I were you.” Trixie froze in place, wincing. Turning slowly around, she scowled. Humble held out her contract, tapping it lightly with a hoof. “Trixie the Perpetually Unemployed just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” --- Trixie grunted as she lifted the heavy rock. Before her, the wheel was spinning, and the rattling sound made her head throb. She snorted out a small jet of steam from her nostrils as it landed on ‘9 – Lunges’. Groaning, she placed the rock on her back as she stepped out, bending at the knee. “The wife and I developed this routine thirty years ago,” Humble said, panting. Trixie eyed his rock suspiciously. She decided it didn’t look nearly as heavy as hers. “She noticed that they were just layin' out in the sun, lazy as you please,” he continued. “We decided that strong rocks needed strong bodies, so I developed Calxthenics.” Humble shook his head vigorously in an attempt to keep his streaming sweat out of his eyes. “You’ll see! When the rocks are done, they’re so worn out, they just lay there on the floor! Heh!” With a final grunt, Humble returned to the center of his mat, shaking his legs out. “Okay, that’s done.” Trixie’s own legs were shaking so badly that she nearly collapsed. Breathing heavily, she watched Humble trot over to the wheel and send it spinning again. “Ha! Sit ups!” he cried as it stopped. “Humble, please—” Trixie began, rubbing her burning legs. “Ah-ah,” he said, adjusting his leg warmers. “Don’t be a bad example. It’s okay if you can’t do 'em all. Tryin' is the key.” Grumbling, Trixie laid on her back, wrapping her legs around the rock. At least I’m not standing anymore, she thought. Ahead of her, she could hear Humble’s labored breathing as he rose again and again from the mat. He’s incredible! Trixie begrudgingly admitted. I’ll bet even the royal guards aren’t in the kind of shape he is. “I don’t hear much strainin' back there,” Humble said as he lay back on his mat. Swallowing hard, Trixie forced her torso to move, and her stomach shook as she struggled to sit up. Mentally tallying up a ‘one’, she fell back, coughing as the rock blasted the air out of her lungs. Three more and she waved her hooves in surrender. “Okay, okay. We’ll just move on,” Humble said, returning to the wheel. Rest! Trixie pleaded. Please land on rest! As the wheel slowed, Trixie discovered she was holding her breath. Gasping, she slammed a hoof into the mat as it landed on ‘5 – Side Bends’. Stupid wheel! Reluctantly, she lifted the rock over her head and tried to follow Humble’s example. --- Trixie lay on her mat, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She had never been so tired before. She could just see Humble out of the corner of her eye as he stretched. She wanted to throw something at him, but her legs didn’t seem to work any longer. Lifting her head slightly, Trixie could just see the wheel above the rock that was still sitting on her chest. If there was anything she really wanted to throw a rock at, it was that horrible thing. Twenty times! she thought. He spun that wheel twenty times! Every other entry is ‘Rest’! How did it never come up?! She let her head fall back with a thud. They hate me! she thought, her shaking legs struggling to push the rock off of her. Humble’s insane and that wheel has it out for me. Trixie twisted onto her side, rubbing her legs vigorously. If I never see another wheel… “Ayup, that was a right good session, miss,” Humble said, adjusting his headset. “Look at the two of you. Worn out.” He retrieved his rock and set it back in the wheelbarrow. “At least this one’s done for the day, and yours, as well. Too bad for us, eh?” he said, moving to a new mat. Trixie blanched as a slow realization came over her. “Y-you don’t mean to go through this for every rock here, do you?!” she wailed. “Of course not, miss,” he replied. Trixie nearly cried in relief. “I mean to exercise half of the rocks here. All the rest are yours.” Humble pointed to a dozen or so mats on the left side of the room. “Probably going to be a long day.” Wearily, Trixie stood and wondered if there was a limit to how much one pony could despise farmers and their wheels of torture.