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// The Boys Are (Outta) Town 
// Story: The Poncho Chronicles III: Amsterdam 
// by BRyeMC 
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	Noon the following day quickly approached as Spike, Wahlburn and Patel sat against a low wall outside of their apartment waiting for the others to arrive. The cool breeze of the weather breezed past them, but they paid no attention to it. Seeing how they were about to embark on a journey to Amsterdam, a gentle breeze was nothing to them. 
“It’s about that time,” said Wahlburn, resting his head against the wall. “Who do you think will get here first? Any bets?”
“Hm,” said Spike, pondering the question. “I’ll bet on Cannon. He seems like the guy of the group to always show up on time.”
“Ah. What about you Patel?”
“My guess is for Rivs or Sticky. They are the ones who are ready to ball or whatever all the time.”
“I wish one of you would’ve said Tyrone. I would have won so much money as that dude is always late.” Wahlburn sighed and looked at his phone’s clock. “We still have a few minutes left. I’m guessing Poncho will be sketchy as fuck again and randomly show up.”
“Wrong,” said Patel. “Poncho and time do not go together. That guy can’t even complete a damn booklet that we had two months to do in time.”
The trio laughed and waited for the first friend to meet them at the planned location. As the clock struck noon, Jeb and his luggage appeared from around the corner of the house. “Hey guys. Sorry I’m late.”
“Late? What the fuck are you talking about? You’re right on time,” said Wahlburn. “You can be sorry for being that douche to arrive exactly on time though.”
“I just can’t win can I?” asked Jeb sadly.
“Of course you can’t. You’re Jeb.” 
After another minute or so, Rivs and Sticky walked into view. Sticky of course had Carolina blue luggage and supplies while Rivs had Dook blue luggage and supplies. The others could tell they were trying to get the other’s colored bags dirty as they hated each other’s favorite university. 
“Oh look at these fags,” said Wahlburn disgusted. “Am I the only straight one here because I hate basketball?” 
“I don’t know,” said Patel. “I’m not a fan either.” 
“Yeah, me either,” said Jeb.
“Yeah, well you’re Jeb though.” Wahlburn smirked as Jeb frowned and shook his head disappointed yet again. 
After Rivs and Sticky got reunited with the others who were there, Cannon slowly made his way towards the group from the same direction where Rivs and Sticky came from. With Cannon, the group saw Fluffy Johnson. 
“What’s up guys?” said Cannon as he and Fluffy began giving everyone hoof bumps and bro hugs as they haven’t seen everyone together again in a long time. 
“I’m surprised you remembered after what I saw you like yesterday,” said Patel. 
“Actually, Fluffy ran into me on the way here and that reminded me about it.” Cannon began laughing. “Sorry we’re a tad bit late.” 
“Whatever, plane doesn’t leave for another three hours so we got some time to burn.” Patel began a headcount and saw they were missing some of the group. “Who are we missing? Tyrone and Poncho?”
“Yeah, and me.” The group turned around and saw Clyde walk over to them and sit down on the low wall. He had luggage bags with him. 
“What the fuck are you doing here?” asked Patel. “You said you weren’t going to bother with this trip.”
“No...I said I didn’t really want to go, but I never did say I wasn’t going. I’m feeling a ‘Bro Night’ will be great as there hasn’t been one in over a year.”
“Well, shit.” 
It wasn’t for another ten minutes or so until the next member showed up, Poncho. Poncho had only one bag with him and slowly made his way towards the group.
“Oh if it isn’t the sketchbag himself!” yelled Wahlburn. “How are you buddy?” 
“Oh shut the hell up Wahlburn.” The group all began to reply to the hostile remark with the common ‘ooo’. 
“Hey Poncho, what’s in your bag?” asked Cannon. “Chips?”
“Whaaaaaat?” replied Poncho, nervously looking around. “No, I have my clothes for the trip and other important necessities.”
“What clothes?” asked Sticky, “you wear the same damn hooded jacket everyday.”
“Whaaaaaat? I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Yeah, okay.” 
At one o’clock in the afternoon, they finally saw Tyrone way in the distance horizon. Once he got closer, they could pick out the detail of him still curling those dumbbells he had in prison. As he reached the group, Clyde got up and ran over to him.
“Long time no see,” said Clyde as he gave his old best friend a bump on the shoulder.
“What’s good man? It’s been awhile.” Tyrone set his bags, and his dumbbells, on the ground and greeted everyone else. After he finished, he went back over to Clyde. “You still ballin’ dawg?”
“Of course, I’m still desiring that dream matchup we had back when we were younger though.”
“Shit man, you know I’ll ball again, but I gots to take my talents to other places too.” 
“Yeah, that’s understandable. There’s only one ‘Tyrone’ in this world.” Clyde and Tyrone continued talking to catch each other up about random topics in the past year, while Patel and the others were rambling about something else. Suddenly, a loud screeching sound came from down the street and Patel and the others stopped talking and got up to see what was the source of it. 					Soon, a lowrider car, that was so low the rear bumper was dragging across the road, causing sparks, came into view. The car pulled alongside the sidewalk near Tyrone. The driver stood up in the driver’s seat.
“Yo Tyrone, it’s your boy BC, I got your son!” Confused, the group looked at the back seat of the car, and sure enough, a young colt was sitting in the back.
“Dad!” yelled the young colt from the back.
“Junior! What the hell are you doing here?” asked Tyrone. 
“Dad! I want to come with you!”
“Junior! What’d I tell you before? You ain’t coming!” Junior began to cry while the others just stared speechless as no one had any idea what the hell was going on. “BC, take him back to your house.”
“Shit man, I gotchu bro.” BC quickly sat down in the seat again and pulled away in the car with Junior. Tyrone and the others watched as they quickly faded in the distance.
“Tyrone, you have a kid?” asked Spike.
“Yeah man, that’s Junior. He’s about nine.”
“Nine? When the hell did this happen?” asked Clyde. “That mean’s you were fifteen.”
“You remember that one bitch I won from a bet from some street thugs we played?”
“Dude, you won so many bitches from betting street thugs.” 
“Yeah, but each time I won, I fucked them, then told them to get the fuck outta here as I ain’t got the time for some punk ass hoe slowing me down.” 
“Tyrone, you are so fucking cool!” shouted Spike. “Damn I wish I knew you guys earlier.” Tyrone took pleasure in that comment. 
“Thanks lil’ dude. To be honest, I probably got a hundred kids or so running around out there.” Tyrone then began recalling all the names of the street bitches he got with since he was fifteen. After a thirty or so minute reciting of his list, Wahlburn spoke up.
“That’s great and all Tyrone, but I think we forgot that we have a fucking plane to board!” Everyone stood up simultaneously in panic. They ran around, collected their stuff, and quickly got into the assigned cars. Since so many of them were going, they had to pile into three separate cars. After taking another few minutes getting settled and stopped fooling around, they set forth towards the airport. 
After an hour or so on the highway, the three cars veered off the highway and got on the lane that was connected to the Canterlot International Airport. After paying the parking fee, they rushed inside the terminal with their belongings. Getting past security took a good chunk of their time as the security scanned through all of the group’s bags. One guard questioned Poncho’s bag full of chips, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the hassle of asking any more questions about the group. 
After the security check, they made their way to the ticket counter. Patel waved off the others to go wait in the lobby near the jet bridge to their plane. Most of them went to sit down while Poncho, Jeb, and Clyde walked up to Patel.
“How much is this going to be?” asked Clyde.
“I don’t know, but we need eleven first class tickets I believe,” said Patel. “I got this shit.” Patel whipped out a large bag of bits from his luggage bag. “I’ve been saving up my shares from Wahlburn for a year for this moment.”
“Nah man,” said Clyde. “Let me do it.” Clyde too whipped out a fairly large bag of coins.
“You going to pull that “generous” card on us, huh?” said Poncho. “I wonder why of all the ponies I know, Clyde has to be the more generous one.”
Clyde sighed. “Dude, what is your problem?” 
Poncho looked away. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just I’m not a fan of things that tend to be...generous.” 
“Poncho, I swear to-”
“What, what are you going to do? Beat me up in an airport?”
“No, but I’ll beat you up on the plane.”
“I’m about to throw you both out of the damn plane if you two don’t shut the hell up,” said Patel. The three of them then began bickering back in forth in a chaotic fashion. During this chaos, Jeb walked up to the ticket counter and pulled out his credit card. He bought the eleven tickets and walked back over to Poncho, Patel, and Clyde.
“Here,” said Jeb handing them tickets. 
“Jeb, what the hell?” asked Patel.
“What? I’m at the PH daily. I got the funds.” Clyde and Poncho shrugged and postponed their argument for another time due to the free tickets. Jeb and the others walked over to the group in the lobby and gave away the tickets to their friends. After all the tickets were dispensed, Patel stood up.
“Alright guys, this is the journey we all waited for-”
“Not me,” said Clyde.
“Yeah, I’m just going because it’s better than the PH,” said Jeb.
“Okay,” said Patel annoyed. “What most of us waited for.” The group gave one last “hurrah!” and waited patiently until it was time to board their plane.