//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Hard Chicagoat Nights: The Zebra and the Priest // by Brasta Septim //------------------------------// Chapter 4 Almost immediately after stepping outside, the cold air blanketed the zebra in an icy-feeling. A slight wind buffeted the two of them, causing Zeke's dreadlocks to whip about. "Damn," he muttered, teeth chattering. "Guesh it's gonna... Shtorm t'night..." Brasta nodded, shivering slightly as he levitated his coat out of his saddlebags,. "Better get there quick then, I suppose." Brasta reached deeper into his saddlebags, and tossed out to Zeke an extra cloak for warmth. Zeke nodded, eyes glued to the street ahead. "Lead on, brother..." Brasta and Zeke made their way to the nearby Marino Cinema. They made their way to the ticket booth as Brasta scanned the dilapidated posters on the outside wall. "Man, wow! Some of these are like twenty years old!..." Zeke tilted his head, trying to read the posters with unfocused eyes. "Ya sure this place is still open?" Brasta nodded, and pointed at a half-asleep mare on the other side of the ticket booth. Zeke tapped on the glass, and the mare shot up, shaking her head, her eyes wide. "Huh? What? How- Oh. Hey, handsome, can I help ya?" Zeke nodded. "Ya know what's playin'? All these posters are like, old..." The mare smiled, her eyes half-lidding, which Zeke attributed to her sleepiness. "Well," she began, twirling a lock of her mane in a hoof, "I'm not sure a handsome, exotic specimen like yourself needs to go to a place like this..." Brasta rolled his eyes and stepped up to the window. "Miss, seriously, what films are playing right now?" He felt slightly annoyed by the mare for some reason, but pushed that thought aside. "Father?" Her face fell in recognition, and she quickly gathered herself up. "Erm... fancy meeting y-you here! I, erm, well... “ She glanced up nervously at the posters on the walls. “What's playing, let’s see, errm..." Brasta's eyes widened just as suddenly, recognising the mare as well, but he quickly composed himself. "Yes, Joana?" She leaned in, voice lowered to an embarrassed whisper. "Father, this is an adult theatre!" "Adult theatre?" Zeke murmured, raising an eyebrow. Brasta's face went red, before once again, face met hoof. "Errm... let's find someplace else, shall we?" he sighed, "Of all the cinemas, this one has to be one of those...” he muttered to himself. "Father, wait!" Joana said, "I... I don't judge you for this, not at all. You said we're all merely ponies and thus sinful in your last sermon. If you need someplace to... Relax, it's all well and good." Zeke cackled, voice seeming a little too loud to Brasta’s ears. "Hahahahaha! She's a good salespony, Brasta!" Brasta groaned in exasperation at the drunken zebra. "Zeke, you're not helping." He looked back at the mare. "Look, I was kind of looking for a regular cinema, so if you wouldn't mind kindly pointing me in the right direction..." Joana's face softened, and she sighed. "It's too bad, Father... Well, there's a small place up a few blocks, but the neighbourhood's tough, so keep your head down." Brasta nodded his thanks, and sent a casually traced sign of the cross her way before heading off. As he trotted along the street, he glanced over at Zeke. "Go on, say it. I know you really want to say SOMETHING." "I was gonna say, she prolly woulda given ya a pretty good deal," the zebra chuckled. "Ya know her from church?" Brasta nodded, "Yep. Joanna Diava, from the parish finance committee." "Don’t say?" Zeke chuckled. "I hope she's doin' that on the side! Somethin' tells me your folk wouldn't take lightly to a church getting funded by porn." Brasta glanced upward, as if trying to pray the very idea away. "You'd be right. Next time she goes to Confession, I'll have to ask her." He shook that thought away. As they entered the darker, rougher part of town, Brasta stiffened up a little, eyes glancing in all directions. Zeke stepped a bit closer, walking side by side with Brasta, looking over at the priest and giving him a wink. "You'll be fine," he murmured. Brasta, despite his anxiety, felt a slight boost of confidence, and nodded in response. After a few minutes worth of walking, they made their way to a surprisingly much nicer cinema, with a short line to get in. They headed to the back of the line. After a few minutes of standing there, however, Zeke looked a little ill. He leaned slightly against his companion, coughing violently. "Man, I don't feel so good..." He glanced over at Zeke, worry written across his face. "Zeke, what's wrong? If you need to leave, just tell me." "No, no, man... I just feel a bit sick to my stomach," he murmurs. "Just need ta... Ya know..." Brasta's eyes searched around, spotting a door with the word ‘Lavatory’ on it. "Over there," he said. Zeke shook his head. "Man, I'm not going in there! That place probably stinks like hell!" "Do you have any better idea?" he asked. "Yeah, there's prolly one inside," Zeke murmurs. Brasta nodded and rushed towards a now line-less ticket window with Zeke in tow. "Excuse me, sir, errm, two for... " he glanced up at a poster. "Carrie? I'm kind of in a hurry..." The window stallion punched out two tickets, blowing out the smoke of his cigarette. Zeke quickly nabbed a ticket, rushing inside. Brasta grabbed his ticket, tossed a few bits at the stallion, and rushed inside , heading into the entrance hallway to the lobby. "Thanks, bye!" Zeke ran down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the stall door behind him and jamming his snout into the toilet, unleashing about everything he had eaten that day in a whiskey-tinged monsoon of alcoholic fury. Brasta stood outside the door, wincing at the sounds of his nauseous, yet probably at least sober now, companion. The vomiting continued, going up Zeke's nose and firing out of his muzzle, leaving the zebra stallion breathless. Eventually, the sound stopped, and Brasta knocked on the door lightly. "Zeke?" "Yeah?" came the reply from the other side, weakly. "You didn't lose a lung in there, did you?" "Hahaha, screw you..." Brasta rolled his eyes. "You alright?" "I'm better," Zeke muttered, getting up from the toilet and flushing it. A few seconds later, he emerged from the doorway of the bathroom. "When's the movie gonna start?" The priest glanced up at a giant clock over the concessions booth. "Ten minutes, I think." His eyes turned back to the zebra. “You still up for it?” "Aight," Zeke murmured. "Plenty of time. I feel good now, but just in case..." Brasta felt a hint of relief. "Well, at least you'll feel better in a few hours." "Yeah," Zeke murmurs. "Sorry. Not very polite of me to get real drunk on a date, huh?" Brasta snorted. "There are better ways to make an impression, one could say." He almost didn't noticed the anxiety returning at the mention of the word ‘date.’ "Anyways..." he glanced back at Zeke. "How about that movie?" "Yeah," Zeke groaned. "Guess we head on in, then..." Brasta nodded and the two of them trotted towards the end of the hallway and into the lobby. Zeke trotted into the theatre, taking a back seat and sitting on his flanks, watching the previews zoom across the screen. He patted the seat next to him, silently suggesting that Brasta sit there. Brasta nodded, settling down comfortably into the theatre chair. "These are good seats," Zeke said, patting the back of his chair. "Nice and comfy... If I find the movie boring and shit, I won't be sleeping on a park bench." Brasta rolled his eyes. "Please, places like this prefer for movie-goers to want to come back-- I don't think they'd consider a park bench a good business choice." "Nah, prolly not," Zeke murmured. "Prolly not... What's this movie they're gon' play?" Brasta glanced down at the ticket. "Something called... Carrie, I think?" "Carrie? Never heard of it..." Brasta shrugged. "Neither have I, but it was the first thing I saw, and we were kinda in a hurry..." He paused, embarrassed. It’s not like he was going to carefully look for a good movie when his companion had been about to vomit. "Still, gotta try new things from time to time, right?" "I hope it ain't gory slasher shit. Makes me sick to my stomach..." Brasta looked a little queasy himself, remembering the last time he saw that kind of movie. Trying to lighten the mood a little, he chuckled awkwardly, "I don't think you have anything left in your stomach to get sick." "Shut up," Zeke chuckled, leaning back into his seat with a fake pout on his face. Brasta smirked at the look on Zeke's face. "Don't try to go pouty on me. It doesn't suit you." "Heh. Guess you gotta teach me, colt lover," Zeke cackled, sticking his tongue out at his friend. Brasta looked almost alarmed for a moment, eyes glancing around, before he shook his head and snorted. "In time, Zeddy. I've got more than enough patience to teach you-- and I'll likely need it." He crossed his forehooves and sent him a mock-teacherly glare. "Yeah, you’ll have your work cut out for ya-- I wasn't too good at school, man," Zeke giggled, tapping the side of his head with a hoof. Brasta grinned wide, then suddenly out came the broadest East Canterlot accent Zeke had ever heard. "Yew don't say? Well, at least I ‘ope yew learnt sumfin' or uvver, uvverwise I’d hefta give yew some educatin' meself." A few seconds passed, before Zeke just looked at him like he’d swallowed a lemon whole. "...Man, what the blazes happened to your speech there?" : Brasta faintly blushed. Apparently, he’d still managed to retain the Coltney he’d picked up back in Canterlot. "Sorry. Some of my mum's East Canterlot speech comes through sometimes- and not the posh kind I normally use, either." He shook his head. "Anyway, the movie's starting up." "Right..." The two of them waited for the movie to start. In a span of roughly thirty minutes, Brasta found himself torn between laughing from nervousness, being horrified by some of the darker scenes, and cringing at the poorly directed parts. Zeke, erstwhile, had fallen asleep within five minutes. Leaning against Brasta's shoulder and drooling softly, a bubble rising and falling from his nose. An hour later, Brasta found himself clinging onto the nearest pony to him for dear life-- which unbeknownst to him, happened to be the sleeping Zeke--, eyes fixed on the screen until the closing credits came up. Taking a sigh of relief, he heard a soft snore. He looked over to his right to see Zeke leaning on his shoulder, mouth set in a somewhat cute- errm, peaceful smile. Ignoring the weight, he gently poked Zeke with his hoof. "Zeeeeke?" Zeke jolted awake, the bubble popping and his mouth dry. "Hmmph! Wha?! Who died?! The zebra did, I know it! Zebras always die first!" Brasta felt the sudden urge to laugh at the look on Zeke's face. However, he restrained himself and simply said in the flattest voice he could. "Correction- the unicorn died first in this one." "Oh." Zeke yawned, unconsciously nuzzling into Brasta's shoulder. The priest's face heated at the sudden touch, before he shook his head and said, "Well, movie's over anyway." "Yeah..." Zeke yawned again. "Damn... What time is it?..." Brasta shielded his eyes from the brightening theatre lights and found the clock on the wall. "About... I think one in the morning." "Mhh," Zeke murmured. "Can I crash at your place again?" Brasta nodded, ignoring the slight lightheaded feeling that he knew hadn’t been there previously. "Sure. Ready to head out?" Zeke was already snoring again on Brasta's shoulder, his eyes shut gently and mumbling slightly under his breath. As endearing as this was, he had to get Zeke out of the theatre. Trying not to disturb him, he gently lifted Zeke into an upright position, leaning him against his shoulder. It was an awkward position to move in, but it worked. Using his right foreleg to keep him from falling over, he took a breath and headed out of the theatre. Groggily, Zeke came to again, walking alongside the priest wobbly, his eyes drooping shut. "Whoof," he murmured. "I... I guess I'm not a movie pony." Brasta snickered softly. "I suppose not. How about you pick what to do next time?" A moment of silence stretched into minutes, before his voice was heard again, much smaller and slightly nervous this time. "Assuming there, errm, will be a next time, if that's all right with you...?" "Yeah," Zeke murmured, eyelids shutting again. "I'm down for it. Wait, I don't remember, but didn't I ask for a movie...?" Brasta thought back for a moment. "Yes, actually you did. Hmm... then... I'll pick next time?" "You better," Zeke chuckled. "And it better be good! No golf or... any of that rubbish." he finished lamely, leaning slightly more against Brasta, Brasta rolled his eyes, ignoring the increased weight on his shoulder. "Believe me, I'm not a golf fan. How about just plain food next time? A decent place with decent grub?" "Sounds fabulou- Awesome," Zeke said with a nervous chuckle. Brasta smiled. "Good. Now let's get back to the rectory before you fall asleep again." With a sleepy Zeke in tow, Brasta managed to find their way back to the rectory, navigating the lamp-lit streets with caution until they arrived safely at the doors. Zeke half-stumbled his way with Brasta alongside him, humming and muttering incoherently before snapping himself awake whenever he dozed off again into the priest's shoulder. Brasta unlocked the doors of the rectory, shutting them behind as soon as he managed to get Zeke in. Gently taking care to avoid his furniture, he opened the door to the guest bedroom and led him in. "We're back, Zeke.," he said, as the zebra stumbled towards the bed. Zeke looked around, blearily closing his eyes as he swayed slightly. "Can I sleep in your bed, Papa?..." Zeke mumbled in his sleep, nuzzling further into Brasta's shoulder. Brasta looked more than a little alarmed- though his title was "Father", he doubted that was who he was referring to. Well, on second thought, it couldn't... No. that might lead to unfortunate temptations. So naturally, he would just leave him here in the guest bed. Nowhere near him. "Errm... not... tonight, Zeke?" he said, his speech speeding up a little., as he gently pushed the other stallion towards the bed. Either he pushed too hard, or Zeke was just that tired, as the zebra promptly fell sideways onto the bed. Reflexively, the zebra seemed to curl up slightly in his sleep, forehooves, clasping even tighter to Brasta. "Mmmf, but Papa..." Zeke mumbled. "No Zeke." Brasta said, letting go of Zeke and heading towards the door. Still, he looked so... (was cute the right word?) dozing half asleep on the guest bed... No. That wouldn't be a good idea. "Papaa..." he said in an almost desperate tone, unconsciously stretching his forehooves out towards the door. No, Brasta thought, walking further towards the door. Zeke tossed on the bed, fidgeting in obvious discomfort, his eyes squeezing shut, his hooves pushing out. "No..." Brasta turned around with a sigh, seeing Zeke obviously afflicted by what he guessed was a bad dream. Resigning himself, he headed back to the bed, placing a foreleg around Zeke to hopefully calm him down. "Shh, I'm here." Zeke wrapped his forelegs around Brasta, still fidgeting. "Mama... those guys who... you couldn’t... Mmhmmm..." Brasta, to his dismay, soon realised that he couldn't get away now without disturbing Zeke. With his heart still against it (or so he told himself), he managed to sort of half-climb, half-fall into the bed alongside Zeke. Almost immediately, the zebra’s forehooves pulled him even closer. Zeke nuzzled his head into his ‘Father’s’ chest, humming and murmuring more quietly, his hat still on his head. The body besides him was warm, soft and comforting, and that was all that mattered. Brasta stayed in that position, staring at the ceiling for hours. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. On one hoof, it was nice and warm; on the other hoof, it was a bit too close for his taste. Okay, that was a lie. Truth was, he was afraid. Afraid of this kind of closeness, afraid of the feelings that came with it- and afraid of himself. It was only because of the closeness he was reminded of just how scared he was. But he knew he couldn't dwell on it, not now- he had to get some sleep. Repeating a few Hail Mary's in his head, Brasta finally drifted off to sleep...