//------------------------------//
// A Horrid Mistake 
// Story: Lonesome Whistle 
// by Vauclains Understudy 
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	Iron lay face-down on his bed. Celestia had forbidden him from running trains for a whole month! While she had kept her promise to Luna about being lenient in punishment, the severity of the train wreck (damages and such) still required a degree of harshness. “Son of a bitch…” the engineer muttered into his pillow. He wouldn’t be paid for the month he was off, which meant that, being an avid spender, he wouldn’t be able to spend much for new or replacement parts for his locomotives and other equipment; apart from the engines, he also owned a homemade steam tractor that saw frequent use at Sweet Apple Acres. Also, since it was almost wintertime, foodstuffs were beginning to become scarcer and more expensive.

Big Mike was more harshly punished (in his opinion, anyway): he was not allowed to leave the sheds for any assignment for the rest of the year. His tender had been emptied of coal and water; he was to simply sit cold in the shed. In a sense, he was grounded. But Hildegard and 2398 weren’t in a much better situation. Because Ironside was the only driver qualified to drive the compound engines owned by Equestria (the only ones being his three engines and 1015), they too weren’t able to leave the sheds. As a result, there was a very sour mood permeating through the shed.

Ironside rolled onto his back and reached for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the table near his bed. He never drank before or during his shifts; he did know about the dangers of drunk driving, after all. But because he was not to drive for the next month, he felt there was no reason he shouldn’t take a few swigs from the bottle. Of course, being in a rather depressed mood, he would take more than just a few swigs. But at this point, he really didn’t care.

Meanwhile, Gallow Drop hauled a wagon loaded with the coffins she had constructed over to the mortuary. It had been in town since Ponyville’s founding long ago, and had changed hooves in ownership several times. The only haunting thing about the place was its purpose in society. There were no stories about ghosts haunting the place or anything like that; and it always had a very comfortable, homey feeling about it; but it had been left vacant a couple of times for several decades since nopony really wanted to go into the undertaking business.

Since moving in (which was only a few hours ago), Gallow had dusted off most of the furnishings and restocked the embalming materials. The place looked more like the lobby of a fancy hotel or the living room of an antique home. The only way one could tell of the place’s real purpose, apart from reading the sign, was when one noticed the funerary bier sitting at the far end of the visitation room. Gallow stepped out into the room wearing a silk top hat and a ribbon of black crepe around her right front leg. She felt proud of the work she had done, and was eager to restart the business.

Realizing that there weren’t likely to be any customers for a while, Gallow instead got to work on making a stock of coffins, as these again had not been seen in the mortuary since the last owners moved out. She figured that she would start with more basic designs before working up to the more elaborate stuff. She had all the time in the world; there was no rush to get a bunch of coffins completed in one day.

Back in the roundhouse, the three engines sat watching the daily traffic go by. The freight trains had not shrunk in size simply because Mike was out of work for the time being. The Equestrian locomotives now had to double- or even triple-head the trains, meaning there were fewer engines available. The passenger trains had to be cut down in size as a result, and the engines’ smaller size meant that the expresses weren’t traveling nearly as fast as they would behind Hildegard or 2398. Mike had not realized until now just how important he and the others were to keeping rail traffic moving at a steady pace. As a result, he felt guiltier than ever.

Ironside had undergone an unusual and dangerous transformation over time. See, when we get drunk, our inhibitions go down the toilet, and we often end up acting completely unlike ourselves. Some of us become very affectionate when we’re drunk; affectionate to the point where we make others feel uncomfortable. Others among us find things super-funny, even when they’re not. Ironside was the kind who becomes very irrational and violent. He had downed almost half the bottle in the past 15 minutes, and now had a crazed and very angry expression on his face. Somehow, he managed to hide it from his engines as he stumbled out of the roundhouse.

Gallow was interrupted by a knock at the door, though it was more of a loud banging. Nervously, she trotted to the door and opened it. “I-Ironside?” she asked, seeing the engineer standing in the doorway. If she didn’t feel nervous enough already, she was even more unnerved by the dark and possibly murderous look on her friend’s face.

“Hey, Gallow, how ya been?” asked the engineer in a tone of voice that wouldn’t have sounded out of place coming from the Joker.

“Um, all right, I guess…” she answered in an uneasy voice. The awkward smile on Iron’s face faded.

“Well, I’m about to have the worst month in my whole life,” he replied, “Want to know why that is?” Gallow sighed, realizing that he knew what she had done.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” she said in a soft voice. Ironside scoffed.

“You’re sorry,” he mocked, “You don’t seem to realize just what your joyride has accomplished. I’ve pretty much been laid off for a whole month. A whole frigging month! And I’m not getting paid, in case you didn’t know.”

Gallow became defensive. “It was Mike’s idea! I was just along for the ride!”

“Oh, so it’s Mike’s fault, huh? That engine can’t tell horseshit from coal, let alone decide who’s a legitimate engine driver!” the engineer retorted.

“You should be ashamed insulting your engine like that,” Gallow chastised, “He cares about you.”

“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do! You’re in no position to be giving me orders, little missy!” came the answer.

Indignant, Gallow responded, “At least I’m not a drunken shithead who drowns his sorrows in alcohol! I’ve certainly got a much clearer head than you!”

Ironside didn’t respond. He just gave her a stare. Then he trotted up to her. His expression didn’t waver. Gallow watched him approach, her indignant look still on her face. Ironside stopped a foot in front of her and lowered his head to line up his eyes with hers. “Now, you’ve gone too far.” At full force, he right-hooked Gallow across the face, knocking her sideways. Gallow didn’t even have time to recover before he pounced on her, jamming his front hooves into her side.

She screamed in pain. “Alex, please! Don’t!” He didn’t listen. Spinning a 180, he clocked her square in the stomach with his hind legs. Another scream of pain, followed by whimpers. Gallow couldn’t believe what was happening. She tried pleading with him again, but to no avail. He took one of the lamps and smashed it against her face. She rolled over, clutching her bleeding nose and in tears.

Ironside raised the lamp, preparing for another strike, when he realized that the lamp wouldn’t budge. “What the hell?” he exclaimed.

Twilight stood at the entrance to the room, her horn aglow and with a look of pure anger. Ripping the lamp out of his grasp, she slammed it down on Iron’s head. He fell over, but that wasn’t enough to take him down. Stumbling back to his feet, he charged Twilight. It was futile, of course; Twilight was one of the strongest unicorns in Equestria, and it was no trouble for her to magically pick up the Pegasus and throw him against the wall, knocking a couple of pictures off it and onto his head. “Ironside, stop this madness at once!” she ordered. Picking himself up, Ironside snorted through his nostrils and charged at her once more, this time with his iron wingtips extended. At the rate he was going, a clothesline strike to the neck from the wingtips would surely fatally injure Twilight.

Twilight jumped onto him as he approached, blinding him by covering his eyes. “Aw, shit!” he shouted. Unable to see, he charged right through one of the windows and out onto the lawn. Tripping, he landed face-first in the grass and skidded to a stop. Twilight stood above him, having dismounted from him after his fall. She rolled him over and clocked him in the face repeatedly with her hooves.

Ironside was finally able to get a good look at Twilight. What he saw struck his heart. Twilight was definitely angry with him, no doubt. But tears were streaming from her eyes as well, and her heavy breathing was accented with sobs. “How could you?” she asked, choking as she did, “How could you do something like that to your friend?” Ironside couldn’t think of anything to say. He knew, even though still intoxicated, that he had made a horrid mistake. He turned his head sideways, looking at the weeping filly still lying on the floor in the mortuary. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at either Twilight or Gallow.

“Leave,” Twilight said in a sharp voice, “Leave and don’t ever come back.” Ironside felt like his heart had just been stabbed. He knew he deserved the rejection, as much as he felt it unfair. But there was nothing he could do. “Do you hear me?!” Twilight snapped. Ironside opened the eye closest to her and looked at her. “I will if you get off me,” he replied in a soft voice. Twilight backed off him. Ironside stood up, still wobbling from the effects of the whiskey, and slowly trotted off, hanging his head.

Twilight walked back through the broken window toward Gallow, who was still lying on the floor. She lay down and gently wrapped her arms around the weeping filly. “There, there,” she whispered, “It’s not your fault.” Gallow buried her head in Twilight’s coat.

From a distance, Ironside watched Twilight comfort his broken friend. “She’s right, Gallow,” he whispered as tears formed in his own eyes, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” With that, he trotted back to the roundhouse.