//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Red, White, and Blueblood // by kingtiger666 //------------------------------// “Hey Applejack.” The smaller, yellow earth pony who may or may not be called Applebloom asked her much larger (not fat, just a bit more weight to put into her kicks, or as the family would call them, bucks, leading to the obvious ‘more to love’ joke) older sister. “Yeah?” “What’s funnier than Dick van Dyke?” “Ah don’t rightly know.” “Adolf Hoofler.” “Who wants dessert?” Called a crackly old voice from the kitchen. ←-----------------------------------------------------------------------------→ White unicorn. White unicorn. Nrocinu etihw. White unicorn. Nrocinu etihw. Where o where didst thou lose your horn? Surely in thy wanderings thou hast discovered an alternative. For thou art an explorer, a searcher who shall uncover the secrets of this and all other worlds. White unicorn. White unicorn. Sadness. Depression. Sitting in a darkened room, staring at a photograph of happier times. White unicorn, red pony. Atop ferris wheel. Fireworks in background. Judging by angle, picture taken by pegasus. Warning, do not attempt to contact pony. Red pony will eat white unicorn’s brains. Ponies are zombies. Awaken! Awaken! ←-----------------------------------------------------------------------------→ As Blueblood came to, he realized two things. The first, he wasn’t on the train anymore. Second, there was a camel in a turban standing over him. “Wh-what? What’s going on?!” He shouted, bracing his hooves to jump up. The camel grabbed the unicorn by the shoulders, forcing him back onto a colourful blanket that would probably be worth a small fortune in Equestria. “Calm! Train flip. Accident. Many ponies hurt. We help.” He spoke, gently lowering him back down. Unfortunately, this peace didn’t last for long. “Mac! Where’s Big Mac!” Blueblood cried as he attempted to shoot up again. “Big Mac?” the camel turned turned to his companions and repeated the name. As they conversed in what seemed to be some ancient desert language, but in reality was probably just some ponified variation of Farsi, the shaken unicorn looked around. He was sitting on one of many blankets spread out across the rocky ground. Creatures of all sorts milled about, a pony sleeping over here, a griffon with a broken wing over there, and a small diamond dog was munching contentedly on a chunk of basaltic stone. Off to the right and down a slope sat the train. Once proud and strong, it now lay sideways like the ancient corpse of some great serpent. The steel body shone like silver in the moonlight. A poet might describe it as punishment for hubris, and while that may be a valid explanation, the more likely cause of the crash was the hundred foot cliff just the train that it had plummeted off. Straining to look up, Blueblood could see the twisted remnants of rail along the edge. ‘How could this have happened?’ He was torn from his pondering by the sound laughter from his host and his fellow camels. The first one turned back to him, “So, who is Big Mac?” Of course they wouldn’t know the name. “Er... He’s an earth pony, a sort of deep red, his cutie mark is a green apple with some sparkles around it.” The camel put a hoof to his chin, deep in thought, before his eyes widened slightly and nodded his head. This got Blueblood excited, naturally. “Yes! Yes he is! Where is he?” “He is over there,” The camel gestured to a tent off in the distance ,“ but I must warn you-” Without waiting for the bull to finish, the unicorn shot off towards the tent. ←-----------------------------------------------------------------------------→ Through the door flap, across the floor and straight into the side of yet another camel. “Oof!” he grunted as he fell to the ground. The camel was the first one to recover. “Effendi, are you alright?” He asked, gripping the pony’s hoof with his own. “Yes, thank you,” was Blueblood’s reply, “I’m looking for an earth pony by the name of Big Macintosh? Red, green apple cutie mark?” The camel looked solemnly at Blueblood, then pointed over to a bed in the corner. His eyes followed the tribesbull’s hoof. The red stallion was on his side, unmoving save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. A few dark splotches marked where shards of glass had been removed from his body. In an instant, Blueblood was next to him. A camel placed a calloused hoof on his shoulder. “We tried everything, effendi. I think he won’t be waking up.” Blueblood stared hard at the prone pony. He looked peaceful, breath slow and shallow, a small cut below one eye crusted over with blood that almost blended with his coat. If these were to be their last moments together, and the feelings that had blossomed on the train be put to rest, then there was only one thing to do. Blueblood’s head lowered towards his sleeping... Well, more than friend, surely. Lover sounded about right. Blueblood’s head lowered towards his sleeping lover. Lips locked, and Macintosh’s eyes opened. It was painfully cliche, like Sleeping Beauty but gayer and with ponies, but that’s what happened. And it was wonderful. ←-----------------------------------------------------------------------------→ The hospital room was white, sterile, and like every other hospital Blueblood had ever been in. On one side, a white door that lead into the hallway and a hundred other rooms exactly like it. On the other, a window opened to a view of one of Nagdad’s wide avenues. Our horned hero sat in a decidedly uncomfortable chair across from his frie- ‘No,’ he reminded himself, ‘coltfriend, like we agreed.’. Indeed they had, during the long (and believe me, boring) ride across the desert to the distant city, there had been a lot of talking. Due to a lack of evidence to the contrary, the two stallions had decided that they were in love. They also discovered a mutual hatred of falafels, but that’s beside the point. Big Macintosh was sitting upright, a bit of a smile on his face as he looked at his special somepony. To think, a poor farmer like him getting swept away by a handsome prince like that, the stuff of fairy tales! It was almost impossible to imagine it happening in real li-- Suddenly, the door flew open and slammed against the wall. Standing panting in the doorway was a maroon-colored stallion with black hair. He seemed absolutely insane, like one of those crazy ponies Blueblood has read about in the newspaper. Mac’s voice, much cheerier, rang out. “Jaffa!” The crazy pony practically flew in, grabbed Mac by the cheeks and pulled their faces close. “Hello cousin Macintosh!” With that, he kissed him full on the lips. After a full minute of mouth-to-mouth, he pulled back with a gasp. “And who is this?” He asked, turning his wide eyes to Blueblood. “That’s mah... Uh... Friend, Blueblood.” Blueblood was thoroughly terrified by this, and bravely leapt behind the chair, tail tucked regally between his legs. This didn’t deter the maroon maniac, however. “Yes! You are his friend! And any friend of my cousin is a friend of mine!” Now, Blueblood was the one being kissed. Odd, he thought, this may be the only time I’ve ever objected a kiss. As he prepared to shove the lunatic off, his person was suddenly vacated, and the madcolt was again at Mac’s bedside. “I heard about the accident! Are you alright, cousin?” “Ah am, thanks to Blue over there.” He gestured back at the chair, the tip of a white horn just visible over the back of it. With that he was back in Blueblood’s face. “You saved my favorite cousin?!” “Um, if I answer yes, will you go away and never come back?” “No!” Wrapping his arms around Blueblood, he squeezed so tight he was sure his eyes would pop out. “Urk! Can’t-mff-breathe!” He shouted, muffled by the hairy chest of the pony Mac seemed to refer to as Jaffa. Well, most ponies’ chests were hairy, but this one especially. And again, the insanity had left him and returned to the other stallion’s bedside. “You are missing festival, cousin!” He shouted, standing over the farmpony, “Does this not upset you?” Mac gestured indifferently. “S’alright, Jaffa. Ah can watch it from the window. Y’all outta get back to the parade.” “Then I bring festival to you! One moment!” Suddenly, everything was orange. That’s what Blueblood thought, at least. The truth, while more likely, was still just as confusing. Ponies seemed to flow through the room, trotting past the two main occupants, delivering either a kiss on the cheek or some sort of gift to the two, before climbing out of the room’s window. There may have been a fiddle in the background, it was hard to tell through the joviality of the whole thing. One can only wonder why they did that, considering the window was on the second storey. It’s entirely possible there was some sort of trampoline there. Maybe a stack of pillows. If not, it was a hospital... Just as suddenly as they appeared, the parade had ceased, and the room was entirely empty save for our intrepid heroes. Boxes, bags, and barrels were stacked haphazardly throughout the room, a pile tottering precariously next to Blueblood’s chair. In his remaining stupor, he failed to notice as his red companion’s eyes widened, or the hoof that shot up, or especially the words “Look out!” that billowed from his lips just as the tower came crashing down on his head. ←-----------------------------------------------------------------------------→ “And that’s the whole story.” The table had long been cleared, the dishes washed, and if anypony looked at the clock they’d find it was over an hour past Applebloom’s bedtime. Applejack was the first to speak. “Well, that’s... Really somethin’.” “Yep,” croaked Granny Smith, who had miraculously managed to stay awake, lending credence to the theory that she actually only pretended to nap so she could mess with ponies. “Ah’ve got a question!” Applebloom said suddenly. “Yes?” “If’n yer both queer, how come y’all ain’t chewin’ th’ rug?” Everypony’s eyes widened, and all of them opened their mouths to speak at once. It was hard to understand four questions at once, but they were all variations on a theme of “What?” “Sweetie Belle said her sister’s queer fer Twalaht Sparkle, an’ she walked in on them chewin’ the carpet together!” Granny Smith raised a withered hoof, and cuffed the small pony soundly on the head.