The next morning, Bastiaan woke the others up around nine to ask if they wanted to go to the city with him. All but Tyrone, Junior, Clyde, Rivs, and Sticky, went back to the city for one last adventure. As Bastiaan, Wahlburn, Spike, and Cannon, stayed in the same coffee shop from before all day, the few others decided to split up. Patel and Jeb wanted to go take a look at the various museums in the city and learn more about past history around this section of the world. Fluffy took some canal tour boats and later, met back up with Patel and Jeb. Poncho went to try some foreign cuisines that he couldn’t eat in Verona. Clark and Yarlin also went on different paths that day. Yarlin wanted to see if his Cap’n had returned and stayed near the ports all day, while Clark put on another puppet show for the young.
The others who stayed behind at the cottage set up a makeshift basketball hoop outside on the pavement in front of the cottage. After taking a few practice shots and warming up, they split themselves into two teams. One team was composed of Rivs and Sticky while Tyrone and Clyde were made of the second team. Junior sat on the side, cheering, yelling, or coaching Tyrone. Even though Tyrone and Clyde haven’t played together in nearly two years, they remained on synch with each other on every possession. They played until Rivs and Sticky forfeited due to the lack of scoring against Tyrone and Clyde.
“Good game,” said Rivs. He extended his hoof for Tyrone to shake.
“You quittin’ now?” Tyrone pushed his hoof away and picked up the ball again. He stood in front of Rivs and threw the ball behind him. After watching the ball sail in the air, it went through the hoop on the other side of their small court. “How about we play ‘PIG’?”
Rivs shook his head and laughed. “Hell no man.” They leaned alongside the small garden wall near them to take a water break. “Man T, it would be awesome if you could play with us for the Crusaders. We need a guy like you.”
Tyrone looked up to the sky to feel a small breeze. “Yeah mayne. I was the most badass baller I knew for the longest of times.”
“Knew?” asked Sticky.
“Yeah,” replied Tyrone. He glanced to Clyde, who remained silent up until this point. “I taught Clyde basketball when I first met him years ago. I can safely say he’s way better than me now. I guess that quote, “Poor is the pupil who does not surpass his master”, is true after all.”
“Damn Tyrone,” said Sticky, wiping away a single tear. “That’s the deepest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Nah mayne, I heard that from a movie before. I just wanted to use it for something.” Tyrone laughed.
“I guess I’m the master now,” said Clyde with a joking nature. “Any of you want to be my pupil?”
Sticky waved him away. “Get out of here you tool.” They all laughed and resumed their basketball actions for another hour or so. When they decided they had enough for one day, they all went inside to watch some foreign basketball game that pitted two teams near the Amsterdam region against each other.
At roughly eight at night, Bastiaan returned with the others. They all ate, played some cards, and retired early that night, for a party was coming and the trip to Amsterdam was drawing to a close.
The next morning, Bastiaan woke everyone up at noon so they could help him set up the party. After going to each room, he noticed that Jeb was missing along with his items. All that was left was a wig and a bucket of green paint. Confused, he asked the others in the den after they all gathered about his absence.
“Jeb? I don’t fucking know what happened to him,” said Cannon.
“You said there was green paint and a random wig just laying there on the floor next to his bed?” asked Patel. “That’s not weird at all.”
“It’s the same green hue as his coat color,” said Bastiaan. “Maybe he painted himself?”
Wahlburn began laughing hysterically. “What a little bitch! He disguised himself all this time!”
“Maybe he’s trying to hide something from us?” suggested Poncho. “I mean, I would do the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, at least you are more fun to be around,” said Sticky, patting Poncho on the back. “Just don’t be a Jeb and ditch your friends.”
“Actually, that’s what we call a ‘Clyde’ moment,” said Cannon, jokingly. He nudged Clyde with his hoof. Clyde responded by a simple shoulder shrug.
“Well, you can worry about Jeb later,” resumed Bastiaan, “my party is only a few hours away, and I don’t have anything set up yet.”
Since they did stay at Bastiaan’s cottage for free the entire week, it was only fair if they helped him out. They split up into different groups to cover the party stations that would be scattered all throughout the cottage and property.
One group was in charge of all food, beverages, and trash bins in each area. Cannon wanted to be the courier to the basement to fetch all alcoholic drinks. Poncho was the food guy, and even snuck in some quick bites before anyone saw him. Spike and Wahlburn got the trash bags and bins and placed them near every door.
The second group was in charge of setting up a small stage in the backyard. Bastiaan told them a local indie band was going to play there that night and he wanted Clyde, Tyrone, and Junior to set up as many chairs out there as possible. Since it was going to be a live band, they placed the chairs near the back, close to the cottage patio with higher elevation, to see over the inevitable mosh pit.
The last group, that included Patel, Fluffy, Yarlin, Clark, Sticky and Rivs, were all in charge of security. If they saw any party guest attempt to steal, they were to be thrown out immediately. Seeing how this party was to cover the whole property, not just the cottage, they had to take them past the property gate, where Fluffy would be positioned, who took the tickets to get in.
After all was set up to plan, with only a few minutes to spare, the crew rested in the den. “Well my new friends, I can’t thank you enough. I think this year’s party is going to be the biggest one yet!” Bastiaan smiled and ran around the room, shaking everyone’s hoof.
“How many ponies are actually going to be here?” asked Patel. “You never did tell us.”
“Oh, not that many at all. Only around 100 thousand or so.”
“One hundred thousand!” exclaimed Tyrone, “that shit is like a stadium crowd!”
“And then some.” Bastiaan smiled. “Well, it’s show time boys.” He left them to go change into a more suitable outfit. The others stood there for a minute before Fluffy quickly ran out of the door to go and be the bouncer of the event. When the door opened, the group saw the huge sea of ponies waiting outside of the gates of the cottage.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” said Cannon.
“I know brother. There won’t be any more weed!” Wahlburn poked Spike in the side to get him to follow and quickly disappeared behind the walls of the kitchen. Clark and Yarlin decided to stay outside and patrol the grounds all night while Sticky and Rivs would be patrolling in the cottage itself.
Within half an hour, the cottage was nearly packed tight with various ponies standing around chatting to one another. Others were standing in the crowded and compact kitchen, eating food. Outside of the cottage, the grounds and garden was also being filled with company.
Soon, not even forty minutes after the first guest arrived, there were so many guests, that no one could move around freely. Ponies had to push at least ten others just to move five yards. The last guest entered the property in under an hour since the first entered.
Bastiaan had the cottage lit up, and the area around it, with different colored strobe lights. Due to the sheer amount of guests there, no one really paid attention to them. The stage also used some strobe lights while the band was getting set up to play. Most of the outside crowd gathered around the stage, but it was still difficult to move about.
Inside the cottage was no better. It was so cramped and compacted, movement was twice as hard to travel through than the outside. Also, it was so loud, no one could really understand what anyone was saying. Since the ponies of the area was used to all of the noise in previous parties of Amsterdam, most of them communicated by just moving their mouths to the words and they could understand fine. Another downside to staying in the cottage was that it was so smoky and filled with the smell of marijuana.
Cannon found refuge and was in charge of the basement bar that only he and a few, as in a hundred, others knew about. Being the bartender, he was able to try out and drink any type of beer he desired. He even was able to get some tip money for his secretive service.
The party raged on in full swing for the next few hours. The outdoor band was playing now, which made the cottage a little less crowded, but nothing too special. Patel, trying to get away from the crowd, moved his way towards the hallway towards his room. As the whole hallway was filled, he decided to enter someone else’s until they left. He made it to the third door on the left side of the hallway, and shoved it open. He quickly closed it back up and turned around.
Clyde was sitting on the bed, with his headphones over his ears. Once he saw Patel, he lifted off one of the sides of his headphones and waved. As Patel got closer he attempted to talk.
“It’s really loud!” yelled Clyde. “I’m not a fan!”
“I know!” replied Patel. “It’s not as bad in here, but we still have to yell so we can understand each other!”
“So, how are you doing!”
“I’m good! What about you!”
“Okay! I’ve been trying to tune out the noise from the party and sit here and listen to some songs, but that’s not really working out too good!”
Patel nodded. “I’ll leave you be then! See you later!” Patel walked back to the door and turned back around for a quick glance. Clyde replaced his headphones and gave Patel a small ‘good luck’ salute. Patel saluted back and braced for the horde.
Once back in the hallway, Patel slid against the walls towards his own room. Lucky for him, it was only two doors down, or so he thought. As he was against the wall, some random guest shoved another one into him, which surprised him and knocked him down. On the floor, he began to crawl up the wall for support, trying to get back on his four legs. Soon, another guest ran into him, which knocked him back down. Before he could move, the band singer from outside yelled that they wanted to create a huge moshpit outside. Since the cottage had speakers that were connected to the stage, everyone inside heard the message. Excited, the horde of the crowd trampled all over him to rush outside. Patel laid on the floor for a few seconds to recover some energy, then resumed his slow crawl back to his room. He entered his room and flopped on top of the bed, hoping to just fall asleep right then and there. The next thing Patel remembered, the sound of the party instantly subdued.