4. Cloud catastrophe
Peter and I heaved to get the soapbox in the living room.
It was a wooden box on wheels.
The blue and white paint was peeling off on all sides.
I used a sponge to clear out some splinters and cobwebs.
Peter took the sheet and carefully placed it inside, to get the fillies a soft place to sit.
I shoved in a pillow.
"What are we, pets?", Scootaloo grimaced.
"If you have any better idea, you tell me!", I replied.
She kept her muzzle shut.
I found a tent sail to cover the top.
It was cold outside. Raining too.
I desperately tried to cover my ripped backpack, but I couldn't prevent the insides from being soaked.
I noticed a slit in the sail.
"Eep! There's water!", Sweetie squealed.
I took of my vest and covered the slit.
Yep, I'm getting a cold.
"We can take the train", Peter said.
"It's about 9 kilometres from the station."
I frowned.
"Where exactly is it?"
"Somewhere in Wallonia."
The French part of Belgium.
The ride took seven hours, the Belgian railway company was well known for delay.
During the ride, Peter suddenly poked my arm.
"Don't you, eh... don't you think we should tell prime minister Di Rupo about this?"
I laughed.
"The prime minister? What'll he do? They'll start debating about whether they should send them out of the country due to the lack of ID. Or perhaps even try to send them to a barn yard! No, we can't do that."
After we arrived at the station, it was an exhausting walk to the said place.
Me trousers were muddy, my shoes completely torn and my shirt was now the opposite of its original green.
At a certain time, the soapbox got stuck in the mud and the fillies had to come out to proceed.
They did a surprising lot better in the mud. I guessed it was the hooves.
When we finally arrived, we all needed a good bath.
As the three fillies were washing up in the bathroom, I checked the content of my backpack.
Luckily, my laptop was wrapped in plastic.
Everything else was soaked.
Spare clothes: drenched.
Pyjamas: drowned.
Notebook: Destroyed.
Peter put his backpack next to mine.
"What've you got there?", he asked.
"Water, lots and lots of water. What've you got?"
"My spare clothes, some underwear, pyjamas, laptop, dried beef jerky."
"Wait, what?"
"Uh, is there a problem with dried jerky?"
I didn't answer his question. I just grabbed the food and threw it in the bin.
"What are you doing man?", he protested.
"Dude, they're herbivores! They freak out when you show them meat!"
"Oh. That explains a lot. Then I should probably get rid of this too."
He fished a salami, some pork and a steak from his rucksack and threw it in the bin.
We watched the bin filled to the top with quality meat.
"I don't think this'll work", I said.
He nodded.
His pyromaniac urges suddenly rose into a huge grin.
"Do we have some gasoline?"
The building was some sort of bungalow. It had a small garage.
Of course, there was no car parked inside, but we did find a full jerry can.
We poured the flammable liquid on the meat.
Peter found a box of matches.
"Let's do this!", he grinned. He rose a match.
"Hold on a sec", I interfered.
"Huh?"
"I don't think we should be burning the house down. Let's do this outside."
So we did.
The wind blew the smell of the melting plastic bin in our faces.
We coughed our lungs out.
"Do you have any idea how poisonous molten plastic is?", the reddening Peter coughed.
"At least we didn't burn the house down!", I coughed back.
We stumbled back.
"How did you afford this anyway?", I asked.
Peter's face contracted in a grimace.
"Dad's beer bank held a bit more money than he told us."
I decided not to respond to that. He obviously didn't want to talk about it.
We were back in the garage.
A kite caught my eye.
It was one of those diamond shaped kites.
Crossed bars, green sail.
"Think somebody left it here?", I asked.
Peter laughed.
"How else would it be here? Seriously, dude, you need to think before you ask questions."
After I'd washed up, I found the four of them in the couch.
Peter had set up his laptop and they were watching MLP.
"Eh, why bother?", I asked, "You already lived the thing!"
Peter shook his head.
"We're checking the credibility of the show."
I frowned.
He continued: "I figured, with Pinkie Pie breaking the forth wall all the time, not all details were correct."
Apple Bloom nodded.
"Yeah, we just reached this episode", she said.
She turned the laptop.
I saw princess Twilight Sparkle lecturing the three fillies.
"Twilight Time", was the title I could read above.
Apple Bloom lifted her shoulders.
"We don't remember this ever happening! They were almost spot on earlier episodes, but this? Nope!"
Wait, did that say 15 on top? Man, I must've taken a very long shower.
Peter snapped his finger.
"Of course!", he shouted, "we have to contact the authors of the show!"
For once, this was starting to make sense.
"Yeah, they'll know a way between dimensions!", I replied.
Peter found the number on Hasbro's site.
He immediately called the number using his cell phone.
No reaction.
He called again.
Nothing.
"I don't understand!", he said.
I thought I did understand.
"We have been attacked by some weird guy earlier, he had some sort of magic, so it wouldn't be impossible for them to block our calls."
Peter sighed.
"And I thought it was hard enough to jump between dimensions without somebody with superpowers trying to stop you."
Sweetie Belle bit her lip.
"So we can't go back?"
We all stared into nothingness.
Suddenly, Peter typed in something on his laptop.
"Hah! What I was looking for!", he smiled.
I gazed upon the screen.
"A singing contest?"
"Not exactly, a music video contest!", he smiled.
Apple Bloom scratched the back of her head.
How does pony do that? Me confused!
"What does that have to do with our situation?", she said.
Peter closed the laptop.
"Hasbro is in America.
I can't afford a ticket to America.
But the prize to the contest is tickets to America."
Scootaloo hopped on the table.
"I'll sing!", she said.
"No!", we replied in chorus.
She flattened her ears.
"Wh... why not?", she stuttered.
"Well, uh, singing isn't your strongest point", I replied.
She gave me a murderous glare.
For a second, I thought she'd do to me what she'd done to Mister New York.
"Then who will sing?", she asked.
"Sweetie Belle", Peter said.
Sweetie Belle backed away.
"No no no no no, I don't sing in front of everypony", she said.
"Please, Sweetie Belle", Apple Bloom begged.
"You don't have to appear, we'll just record it and say it's computer generated!", Peter assured her.
"Well, um, maybe?", Sweetie Belle uttered.
"Take your time to decide", I said, "it'll be two months before the contest is over."
The fillies gulped.
"Two months?", Apple Bloom repeated.
I had noticed Scootaloo sitting in the corner, depressed over the fact she couldn't sing.
I stood up and ran to the garage.
"Jeffrey? What are you doing?", Peter yelled.
I came back with the kite.
"Two months of awesome crusading!", I grinned.
"Are you sure this is safe?", Apple Bloom asked.
"I'm sure this is awesome!", Scootaloo answered, "thanks weirdo!"
I tied the kite to her back. I hung my spare phone next to her and dialled Peter's number.
"So we can stay in touch", I said.
Scootaloo put as much strength in her wings as she could.
"Cutiemark Crusader kite flyer, yaay!", Sweetie Belle encouraged.
As I anticipated, Scootaloo's wing power was just enough to overcome gravity, sending her in the sky on the wind stream.
With the assistance of the kite, of course.
"Yoohooo!", she shouted as she rose high.
"You can do it, Scootaloo!", Peter cheered.
I loosened the cord to the kite, allowing it to rise up higher.
Yes, it's working!
snap
Snap!
I stared at the broken cord in my hand. Then I stared up.
No sign of Scootaloo.
"Where'd she go?", Apple Bloom asked.
Nobody could answer.
Peter brought the phone to his mouth.
"Scoot? Are you okay?"
"Better than ever! Weee! Can this thing go higher? Oh, never mind. I am the ruler of the sky!"
We frowned at each other.
"Uh, Scootaloo, the cord broke, we kind of lost you. Where are you?", Peter said.
"Well, uh, there's clouds. And blue sky."
Worry had conquered my spine.
"Try to land on a cloud, okay?", I said, I could only hope pegasi had the same powers here as they did in Equestria.
"Why? This is too much fun!"
Scraatch.
Peter trembled.
"Is that what I think it is?", he screamed.
No response.
Scraatch.
"Scootaloo!", we all yelled.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I think your thingamagig broke. I'm on a cloud now."
I sighed in relief.
"Okay, you can come dow...", Peter started, "uh, how do we get her down?"
I could feel Apple Bloom's accusatory glance.
"Scootaloo, how long do you think you can keep yourself afloat?", I asked.
"Uh, I'm not sure", she answered, "twenty seconds?"
I looked up. The clouds were HIGH.
I didn't think twenty seconds would be enough time.
We stood there in silence. I felt Scootaloo becoming more tense every second.
"I'm not going to make it, am I?", she sighed.
"You will make it, Scootaloo, I'll get you down from there!", I said, though I doubted my own words.
"No, you can't fly, can you? Sorry I've been so rude. I..."
"Shut your muzzle, Scootaloo, you'll get down here ALIVE, got it?"
She seemed hesitant to believe me.
Peter and the other fillies had gone completely silent.
"R... really?", she asked.
I don't think I'd ever been so certain of something before, when I yelled:
"Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!"
"Th... thanks weirdo. But what are we going toaaah!"
It went silent.
I saw an object fall from the sky.
My spare phone landed next to me and shattered in a million pieces.
We stood there for a second. Staring at the pieces of metal.
"Scoot's still up there!", Sweetie shouted.
We looked up.
Indeed, no orange mass was coming down.
"So, what do we do now?", Peter asked.
"We build stairs", I answered.
I think it was one of the craziest ideas I'd ever had.
Apart from sending Scootaloo up in the sky, of course.
We brought a large basin filled with water to the spot we'd been kiting.
Peter had made a fire to cook the water.
It was a long shot, but the only thing I could think of.
Peter stoked the fire a bit more whilst the crusaders and I went to get more water.
Steam rose into the night sky.
"More water."
"More fire."
"More water."
The steam rose and started forming a thick fog.
We tried to keep the steam alive.
I hoped Scootaloo had noticed our plan, but I wasn't so sure of that.
The fog became so thick we could hardly see where we were going.
How much water did go into this?
After two hours or so, we were starting to lose hope.
Was Scootaloo still up there?
Had she fallen somewhere far away?
I didn't know.
Peter burnt his fingers.
Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom were somewhere lost in the fog.
I didn't give up, no, I would never be able to forgive myself if Scoot didn't survive.
The fog was clearing a bit, the wind was pulling it apart.
I hurried to get more water, when I tripped over something, no, somepony.
"Jee, weirdo, watch your step", the little orange devil smiled.
The fog cleared.
There we were, all five of us intact.
"Told you I wasn't going to let you stay up there", I laughed, "You're way too tasty for that."
She gave me a soft punch in the shoulder.
"You got it, weirdo."