//------------------------------// // 2nd Thought: Chances // Story: The Conversion Bureau: Last Minute Thoughts // by Pencil Sketch //------------------------------// I have to say that the prairie is probably one of the most unexciting ecosystem I've ever seen. All there is to see is either flat expanses of overgrown crops, hills, man-made drainage dykes, and sporadic patches of trees. Once upon a time, it may have been nice for a settler or someone to see fresh dirt to cultivate, but thanks to the massive market demands, it's not that way anymore. I could say it's not my fault and blame some organization or government for ruining the landscape, but I've had more than my fair share of burgers that needed wheat for the bread, or cattle for the beef. Haven't really had a good burger in a while thanks to most of the global population going vegetarian. My mouth is just watering for a nice, juicy slab of steak. Hell, I'd settle for meat-flavoured tofu, but even that's become scarce. Right now, all I have to settle on is some two-year old candy. Listen, stale licorice isn't all that fun to munch on when that's all there is. My jaw's pretty sore now. Back on topic! So, ya, I'm almost glad I'm leaving home. It was always hot in the summer, and freezing in the winter. And with no one around to hit the town with, it was drearily boring. Bar's aren't exciting without the chatter of others. Country clubs don't make you feel high and mighty when you're the only member. Yep, boring. Three quarters of a tank left of gas, going one hundred kilometers and hours on a barren highway. At this rate, I'd need a refill by the time I hit Kenora, which, strictly from rumours spouted off from deranged HFL 'tards, is something of a small pony community now. There was nothing between where I was and there aside some more stinkin' prairie, then boreal forest for as far as the eye could see, maybe a few lakes and some very nice, abandoned cottages. Don't quote me on the cottages though, since they're so accessible to the flying variety of immigrants, there's been a couple, old, news articles stating that some have seen squatters. Oh, speak of the devil, I see the treeline up ahead. That means a good hour or so until Ontario, then another until Kenora, then I don't have an honest idea until Ottawa. I really should have planned this better. I really should have brought a freakin' map. Oh well, can't turn back now with a couple of PETA-wannabes-in-reverse probably rummaging through my place as I speak. Those guys had to be the last on my list of people I want to see right now. Sitting comfortably next to the generation's tween singing sensation and a certain politician I don't care enough to give a name to. You know who you are. Turn the radio on or something. Oh, no signal, just like for the last year or so. At least I've brought my intimidating collection of CDs with me. Just pop one in and listen to the music of yesteryear. A nice driving song would keep me from going absolutely mad for the next two hours or so. Ahh... That's so much better. -=-=- Awake yet? I know I would have dozed off if I wasn't the one at the wheel. The road gets so much smoother once you hit provincial borders. I'm pulling in to Kenora right now, and I gotta say, a lot has changed since I last came here. Some buildings made specifically for pony standards replace the human ones that were no longer in use. There wasn't any humans whatsoever from what I could see in my dinky little car. I was certainly turning a few heads from the pony folk though. There was quite a number of them, every colour of the rainbow and then some. I could see the little ones turning to what I could guess was a parent probably curious as to why a human, like myself, was still around. I'm glad they kept the old ice cream shack, though. Supposedly, it's been around for a good century, at least. My gramps, bless the old soul, said he used to come here and ask for the less generic flavours, like pop-rock or cotton candy. Ya, you could fairly imagine him without a head of teeth. Good thing about no other humans on earth; there's always a place to park and no one will bother ticketing or towing. I just stop the car right here, get out, get my ice cream treat, maybe ask directions, then be on my way. "Let's see... I'll have the... bubblegum mint cone, please?" Guess tastes are inherited. The mare at the till stares at me for a moment, probably wondering if I "was for real". I would strike a pose for her if one of her coworkers didn't get the order for her. That's how I can tell she was a convert. With the immigrants, they may ask a question or two, but they don't gawk. The converts, on the other hand, stare in awe like they want to say "Why, for the love of all that's good in the world, have you not taken the chance to get ponified yet?". Some may say that's a little rude, but I don't mind. They can stare all they want. I was never the center of attention growing up, and boy, does it feel good to have folks pay attention to me now, or at least a few acknowledging that I exist. Some may say not to count chickens before they hatch, but this is a good time to do it. I just checked the side of the building, and, lo and behold, a map of Eastern Canada. Alright, so we're right here, having taken a good two and a half hours to get here from home... now where's Ottawa... Ah, damn. You gotta be kidding me. I'VE HOW MANY HOURS LEFT TO GO?