//------------------------------// // Carnival Cat (Part 2) // Story: The Genial Carnival Cat // by HeartTortoisePigeonDog //------------------------------// [The song in this chapter is sung loosely to the tune "A Few of My Favorite Things", though degrading as the song goes on, ending on a chilling tone that somehow still keeps that uplifting tone by juxtaposition] "Sweetums." "Yes'm?" "Are you ready for the highlight of the night?" "Eeyup." "Oh, oh, this way, please. Just there. Excellent." "Uhng." "Careful. Not too rough, hun." "I—I... I don't know..." "For me? I've been waiting all night for this, and I just can't wait any longer." "........" "........" "Don't you think... we are going a little too fast?" "No! Well..." Catherine dipped a hoof in the water. Orange and yellow streaks, like hair, jumped up and engulfed it and slipped away. "Too quick," she mumbled. She lifted her hoof out of the water and turned to face the dock where an operator stood. Catherine motioned to her, lowering her hoof as though gently packing something in or patting the top of something. The operator must of got the meaning, for almost as soon as she had made the motion the boat slowed down to a crawl. "There we are." She threw herself back. Their small boat gently rocked. She leaned into him and peered up at him from between strands of her silvery mane. "Cozy?" Big Mac nodded with an emphatic grunt. He breathed deep, letting it go slowly. The boat entered the rocky tunnel. He closed his eyes. The music that had seemed perpetually in the air like heavy rain as they had swiftly sashayed through the carnival section of the Park, foregoing the ferris wheel, Flam's Ice Cream Parlor, a few roller coasters, and many more carnival fares too numerous to list, evaporated. Even the impressions he had of the Park felt as though they had no weight and slipped away, growing smaller and smaller as they fell into the great expanse of stars. Music seemed to be rocking him gently awake. He opened his eyes. "Wake-y wake-y, there's fun to be... make-y. Celestia, that sounded better in my head." Catherine smiled. "Don't doze off just yet. The ride is starting." The dark tunnel they floated through was turning a bend. It opened into a tall room. It was dimly lit, evidently to set the mood. Though mostly lit by candle-light, a soft purple-pink glow washed over the room by the light of an iron chandelier. The music was soft and cheery. Big Mac sat up and looked about all eyes. To either side of the stream there were a land of fluffy white and silver clouds and golden arches. Above the chandelier, amongst the black of the ceiling, he espied cherubs, foals with bows and arrows, catching the light and disappearing into the darkness again. About when they were half way through the room, these cherubs were lowered like leaves floating in the wind. Some, upon reaching the clouds, were made to bounce and frolic about. In all, there were about a dozen of them. Two more flanked either side of them at the exit of the room. They turned on each other and loosed their arrows upon the other. Catherine squealed and pressed into Big Mac. Suddenly, all the cherubs were hoisted back up. Big Mac had one good, brief look at these puppets at the exit. All he noticed was that they had no eyes. "That was romantic," Big Mac remarked, flushing slightly. "It's not over yet. I am really excited about this next part! You haven't seen nothing." She kissed his cheek. She leaned over the edge of the boat and splashed at the water. "Here is comes!" They rounded another bend. It was a spring landscape. In sharp contrast to the first room, this room was brilliantly lit. To one side was a mare with lightening-blue hair playing a chipper tune on the harpsichord in a patch of colorful flowers. She winked at Big Mac and sneaked him a blown kiss. He eased back into Catherine. She responded with a quiet purr. Though he knew the grass stopped at the walls and the rest was painted on to give the effect of a horizon, he couldn't help but feel that it stretched into the infinite blue sky. A cool breeze brushed his mane and ran down his spine. He took a deep breath. The little waves rocked him as in a cradle. This room was heavenly. Light and airy. He closed his eyes. He nuzzled Catherine. As they passed into another room, she tilted her head and stole his lips. His whole body felt tingly... alive and vibrating. Something physically and emotionally between excited and afraid. There really felt like literal sparks that flew between their lips. For a while they just pressed their lips. Big Mac did not know what to do with his hooves. Catherine did. She slipped her practiced hands around his neck. He followed suite, just like when they had danced. He let himself become her marionette. When she gnawed his lips with hers, when she pulled him closer, when she pawed at his waist and pressed it into her, something in his unknowing made him do the same. He felt compelled; he didn't let himself decide whether he should or not. He simply surrendered, and he never had before felt such ecstasy surging through his veins. For one brief moment, he opened his eyes, just to gaze at her. He saw her glowing in a sea of shifting darkness. Suddenly there was a sharp rocking of the boat, as though it had hit something. They parted. Big Mac opened his eyes again. He could not see her. They were in another tunnel. Or was it the same tunnel? How long had they been at it? Almost as soon as he had time enough to question, he felt Catherine on him. He caught sight of a pair of red eyes fleeing the boat before he gave in. She felt more eager now, going so far as to pin him on the floor of the boat. A surge of pressure mounted in his loins. He couldn't help but give a loud moan when Catherine thrust her tongue into his mouth. For a long while, he lost himself; his whole body sensitive and alive as with electricity. "I love you," Big Mac whispered. He felt pleasurably sore after their fooling about. Had she always been wearing that white and red pointed shirt? He could not recall; he didn't care: he was happy. Catherine licked his cheek. "Me too you, babe." She bolted up. "Ohohoh! Perfect: this is the part I really wanted you to see!" With only a Roman arch between the two settings, they left what was a wintry landscape into a large, empty cylindrical room. Indigo curtains fell behind them, leaving them in complete darkness. Suddenly a voice rebounded all around them. "Come one, come all! Don't be shy! Welcome all to the Carnival of Cats!" It was a stallion's voice. "I see you're painted suspect, young filly. Why would you that?" He spoke in a very bouncy, uplifting manner, something akin to how Flim and Flam had talked: full of confidence and contagious enthusiasm. "There is nothing to be had here but joy: this is The Happiest Place on Earth! (Not just in Equestria, you know). But don't take my word for it: ask the foals! Well colts and fillies, what do you think of our park?" A deafening roar of cheers gave their answer. "See? Just because something is too good, doesn't mean it ain't true! Some of the truest things seem the most unreal: truth is stranger than fiction, and all that, eh." There was a loud bang and a flash, and a stallion in full uniform, of a deep veridian, with gold epaulets, appeared atop a stand on an empty stage, swinging his large forehooves open. "That is an actor portraying my late husband who died trying to put out the fire of our first park." No casual remark had ever struck Big Mac so sharply. "Greetings, young couple!" He bounded down to the edge of the wooden stage that ran along the stream with a pleasant wooden clunk. He had a similar golden-hued coat as Catherine, though a little greener, and a vermilion mane. "How do you do this fine evening, love-birds? By the looks of it, more than well." He gave a rident wink. His eyebrows looked fierce. "I am myself just preparing my show as usual." The boat stopped. "You two wouldn't happen to wish to take a peek, would you?" Catherine raised an eyebrow. Big Mac looked from Catherine to the stallion and back again. He nodded. "Excellent!" He stomped his hooves and spun about. Upon reaching center-stage: "My name is Sandy Seneca!" He paused for a moment, considering. He screwed up his features. Suddenly he disappeared into a flash of smoke. The lights dimmed. A steady drum beat began, like a heart. Another flash appeared way up on a pedestal. Sandy, spotlit, looked down from above. "Welcome to the show!" he bellowed. "WELCOME TO THE SHOW OF A LIFE TIME!" A large curtain fell, unfurled. In the moment it took for it to collapse on the stage, the entire scene had completely transformed. Erie green footlights lit the stage: a scene depicting a microcosm of The Carnival of Cats. Orange-yellow lights came on behind some of the cut-out buildings. Rows of little foals came filing out, hardly old enough to have yet earned their cutie marks. The beat became a firm presence and a long wail of a cello began what became a hypnotic song of a full orchestra sung lead by Sandy and accompaniment by all the foals. Silver dew on crisp leaves and smiles a-glowing; Cream-colored ponies on a raft gently rowing; Paper goodie-bags tied up with silken strings; Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) Sandy weaved through the foals, who appeared almost hypnotized by the music all smiles and dancing, tossing out goodie-bags that poured out shining things Big Mac could not make out. Around the stage, the foals acted out what was sung. Fillies in red dresses with green satin sashes; Golden eyes that peep from rose garden caches; The coaster that rushes by with joyous cries ringing; Big Mac started when an actual rolled coaster roared by just above their heads. Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) The green footlights faded into violet atmospheric ones. The foals' interpretive-dancing became more intensive and ballet-like. Sandy gave a juxtaposed rendition of their dancing that was somewhat more hard and popping than the foals', though just as flowing and rhythmic. Caramel apples, starry skies, and sweet-smelling ice-cream shops; Gas-lamps and soft moonlight caressing young rosy cheeks; Music-tickled ears soothed by seductive singing; Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) When the words bite, When the world is cruel, When you are lost and alone, Simply know Carnival Cat will always love you Catherine stole a full tongued kiss from Big Mac. And make it all alright (make it all go away) Here they paused during the bridge, walking about listlessly. The scene changed before Big Mac's eyes. The carnival scene pulled away and was replaced by one that appeared to be of a jungle camp complete with a large tree with a tree house. The lighting changed as well, lit by small candles; and the light of a starry sky glowed around them. Rides and attractions and shopping galore-- Sandy removed Big Mac's yoke and tossed it to some filly who took it away. Oh silly filly, don't wear that, you'll be mocked a whore-- Once you're in, you'll want nothing more! Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) Mysterious passages; to discover there is oodles! Playgrounds like jungles, swinging vines like noodles! Mind your head, and careful of your step. (neck) A sharp crack reverberated. Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) If you're feel light-headed from too much play, Take a sip of the floral garden tea; You'll feel refreshed and eager for more! Come here, there are so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) When the words sting, When the world feels nil, When you're feeling sad, You don't need to worry, just come to me colts and fillies-- Big Mac caught his breath, nearly falling overboard, when Catherine gave him a sudden shove onto the stage. He attempted to protest. Sandy Seneca pulled him up into a hay-cart. Catherine jumped into the driver's seat and gave the reins a snap. A small group of four sinewy stallions pulled the cart. The jungle scene fell away. They seemed to be leaving the tunnel of love itself. Before Big Mac rose a large track of land sprawling with stables, enclosed within a dense wall of pines that appeared to fall up like upside-down curtains. As though they were in the bustling streets of Manehatten, foals ran all about, in and out of the stables, climbing on the cart, making faces, gazing around dreamily, shooting mischievous glares... The cart creaked through the rows of stables. Catherine sang. Look here is a hay-cart, let's go for a ride! I just love to make you happy, I swear I could die! Look this ride, tunnel of love, legend of lore! Oh oh oh so many wonderful things (at Carnival Cat's) Something from one of the stables arrested Big Mac's attention. The rallying music is dying... What follows happened within an instant. He saw inside one the stable a foal, he could not say whether filly or colt, drinking from a jar. The foal collapsed and fell into convulsions. Big Mac was startled at how quickly the convulsions stopped, vanishing almost as soon as they had appeared. In a flash the foal was infected in cutie marks. Several foals rushed in and seized the foal, pressing it to the ground. In the mess one foal tossed out a piece of flesh, careful to have not cut the cutie mark. That was all he saw before they disappeared behind the wall. My head is spinning, my smile is hurting... I am sore, I am hungry, my body is yearning-- A flash of pink smoke revealed a picture of Ponyville. Oh oh oh oh so many wondrous works (at Carnival Cat's) The picture melted onto the landscape and what once were mere stables became the entire town of Ponyville. There was copious amount of black smoke among the buildings. The darkness is luring, my numbness is curing. I love your eyes, your heart, your flesh. Big Mac felt a bite at his loins. My husband, do not cry: you are in good hooves. I love it here, playing and laughing and forgetting the world! (a land of permanent entertainment) Sandy Seneca fell off Ponyville's bell tower accompanied by cackling laughter. Before he hit the ground he sprouted what appeared to Big Mac to be two black fleshless bat wings. Sandy Seneca dived into the earth and all became blackness. The land of stables rose up again. The foals were missing. So were the stallions pulling the cart. Forever at play; ("I want more!") Fear always at bay; Beauty cannot harm you. As the cart wheeled back into the tunnel of love, Big Mac espied a sign fallen as though tossed like trash, that read in crude hoof-writing: Welcome To Gloomy Town. And at the end of it all you'll stand there and scream: "I don't want to leave!" ("Don't let it end!) Big Mac turned sharply about. Catherine leaped from the cart, landing on the stage with a loud fanfare of fireworks. To Big Mac's surprise he was in the boat again, though with Sandy Seneca who applauded wildly. "What a show! What talent! What magnanimous je ne sais quoi!" Sandy Seneca roared. Catherine took several bows, apparently taking no notice that Big Mac did not cheer. He was confused. Where had they gone outside the tunnel? Why did that pony get cutie pox, and what happened to it when those others grouped around? Did that really happen? How did they bring in the set of Ponyville so fast? How did he wind up in the boat? But most of all he wondered... had Catherine's mane always been so bone-white? And it seemed stained in places, as though somepony had dropped jet-black ink on it. Was it just a trick of the light? Big Mac was thrust out from his reverie by a sudden force. Sandy Seneca had given him a hearty pat on the back. "Well done, old boy, well done," Sandy Seneca acclaimed. Big Mac wondered what he had done. "I've been trying for years to win Catherine's heart, and you've managed to woo her in mere few short hours. You are quite the strapping stallion. I've never seen her so happy! She hasn't sung like that since her husband passed. Well done, very well done!" Catherine sashayed between them on the boat. "It's true," she began. "Never before have I felt so elated. There is something about you, Big Mac, very much like my late husband. Though Inkwater here bares striking resemblance to him, he is just an actor." Inkwater (Sandy Seneca) nodded as though he had long since accepted this fact. "But in you, now, I've re-found my spark. And I am certain with you at my side..." "Well! I think I'll leave you two," Inkwell cut in, removing himself from the boat. "We have to set up for tomorrow morning, which is just a few hours away, anyhow." He motioned behind him to nopony. He gave the boat a little shove. "Bon Voyage, mes amis!" With a wink he disappeared into darkness as the lights went out. "We should be exiting the tunnel any moment now," Catherine's breath tickled. Big Mac felt her weight on him. Was she smelling him? He felt something wet invade his ear. He pulled away. She giggled and repeated the action. He pulled back further. She giggled. They came out of the tunnel moments later, but not to the same place through which they had entered. They were in a building. Everything was brilliantly lit, and chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling. The walls around them were neatly carved bricks of granite. The floor was marble. They got off the boat and climbed a flight of carpeted stairs. At the end of a short hall, before a large set of doubles doors, Catherine stopped him. "Ready?" What should he be ready for? Nonetheless, he nodded. Her eyes flashed. She flung the doors open. "Cutie Mark Crusaders, Cat and Big Brother have arrived!" Catherine flew out at full gallop in the brightly-lit and large carpeted room. The entire room was populated with tables covered with ghostly-white table-cloths. Curtains between table clusters of four appeared to give some amount of privacy between them, though big Mac found this strange. The ceiling was a piece of art: colored glass hung from it in intricate designs Bic Mac could not make out. They looked abstract, but he swore he could pick out shapes of trees, hearts, hooves... bodies? Certainly not! Nothing in it was as well-together as all that. The carpet seemed to impress the same abstract designs in its colorful weaves; some parts were tricky to make out in the perspective because of it, and he nearly tripped over his own hooves more times than he would ever admit to. There were no chandeliers in this room, just regular lit-bulbs in round recesses in the ceiling in neat, long, orderly rows. "Big Mac! Big Mac! Big Mac!" Applebloom flew into her brother's hooves. She was shaking. "Big Mac! Have you been gettin' shown around by big sis?" (She meant Catherine). "We've been pretty much everywhere, ya know?" She opened her eyes unnaturally wide. "It's amazing here!" Scootaloo shouted. "Have you been everywhere yet?" Scootaloo wouldn't stop hopping in place, even after Big Mac asked her to stop for it was making him nervous. "Oh! If you haven't I'm sure we could show ya around." Applebloom nudged Big Mac hard in the rib. "Or is Miss Caaatheriiine planning on finishing your tour?" Sweetie Belle winked knowingly, scanning him with her eyes. "Please, girls," Catherine blushed. "We can discuss this over dinner." No sooner had Catherine spoke these words than, speak of Nightmare Moon, severs poured out of the kitchen with ready made dishes. "Well woulddya look at that," Applebloom gaped. "It looks delicious!" Scootaloo scurried to her seat. They sat at the table the Cutie Mark Crusaders had been seated at. Catherine sat next to Big Mac. As they ate the large helpings of carrots, corn, apples, pumpkins, and other fruits and veggies of warm hues, Big Mac suddenly found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Catherine. Something... something about her tongue. It looked... green. Big Mac had never seen Applebloom eat with such voracity. She ripped at her food with an animal passion. "When is the last time you have eaten, Applebloom?" Big Mac asked between sips of his apple cider. "Oh, it's felt like forever," she gasped like one suffocating. Big Mac meekly returned to his own plate. He started when the table jumped up, nearly spilling his cider. Sweetie Belle had dove under the table to catch a bit of zucchini that fell off the table. And without comment, she returned to her plate. Needlessly to be said, he was quite agape at the fillies behavior, which he found almost desperate. They ate as though they had not seen food in days or that this might be the last hasty meal of their lives; tearing at the flesh and gook of the pumpkins with peculiar vehemence. He could find no solace for reason for this. He returned his gaze to Catherine. She appeared all smiles and little eyes. "Something the matter, hun?" Catherine's voice rung. Big Mac shook his head. Her eyes looked bloodshot. He smiled weakly, inhaling a large amount of food and cider. He felt sick without knowing why, and Catherine felt to be wearing on him like an old shirt. Feeling the numbness of a full belly, he looked around the table. Nothing for him existed for him but the table, every wrinkle in the fabric, every scrap of food, was all there was. He stared at it until he felt a burning in his throat. He looked up at the fillies. Red dripped from their faces. An icy revelation overcame Big Mac. The waiters kept pouring out with plates of red. He had not been eating apples nor pumpkins... He jumped up. Catherine looked concerned. He asked for the restroom. He was gone before she could finish her directions. Big Mac fell against the wall of the restroom. He vomited. They were eating the flesh of foals. He could not feel the ground under his hooves. He felt as though he were floating. The image of foals' eyes and heads they ate infested him. Above all hung the question: for what?! For what reason was this done, and how? Why did they eat? Why could he not see this all before? He vomited again and again. His mouth tasted of iron. He washed his hooves compulsively, never sure if the red of his coat was free of the red of blood. He scrubbed until they were sore and slightly swollen. All the while the feeling of floating became evermore predominate. He could not now even feel his own hooves or legs: they felt as though they were stranger's. He felt no sensations of the towel's rough cotton as he dried his hooves. He wondered if he had only just imagined what he saw. Really: hadn't he been drinking? Was it not late in the evening? The vespers and the alcohol merely playing him for a fool? Surely. Certainly. That could only be the case. Only that. Only. Nothing more. He sighed. His head felt light as from a head-rush. Bracing himself against the wall, he pushed himself out the bathroom door. "Big Mac!" Applebloom exclaimed. "I am so happy you decided to go through with the proposal." "Proposal of what?" he thought. He languidly tilted his head to one side. "Fer the weddin', silly!" Whose? "Now c'mon, big sis Cat is waitin' fer ya! She being waintin' fer hours." Hours? He could have sworn he was only away for a few minutes. "Little sis, hours?" said he. "Okay," said she exasperated. "Not exactly hours, but darn near... near it." Big Mac looked around. Where was he? He hadn't come in this way. No. This was not the restaurant. Gone were the marble walls, instead rose the tall, slender wooden boards. And he felt itchy. What was he wearing? "Uh, where is she waitin'?" he asked capriciously, expecting no real answer. "At the alter," she said as though the answer were the most obvious thing in the world. Applebloom gave her big brother a shove. His head spun suddenly. His body still felt numb. He hadn't the life to inquire what "alter" Applebloom was talking about. The longer Big Mac surveyed the walls of the church, the more a vague sense of unease sank a pit in his heart. The white walls called up images of tall, sender white bones lined up vertically; the corners where these met the ribs of the ceiling seemed sharp as daggers, and the corners where two walls met their point with the ceiling were the tips. As he waded ahead these points pressed in on him, spooking him to paroxysms. More than once did Applebloom have to give him a sharp jab in the side to call him back to the path ahead. He was being lead past what he felt to be a trench between rows upon rows of piercing stalagmites. Casting his gaze ahead, he beheld a remarkable sight: two large bronze lions stood on a raised platform, up to which stairs lead; they appeared to be frozen in the midst of a passionate struggle, both upon their hind legs and taking mighty swipes at the other, though for the first brief moment Big Mac caught sight of them he nearly shouted as they appeared to him to be vividly alive, and he nearly could hear their sonorous roars. Applebloom spoke up. "And there she is, your love-of-your-life, Big Mac: Catherine!" Before Big Mac knew it he was kissing that corpse of a pony. "Big Mac, that we would die together. Say you'll destroy whole generations for my sake," Catherine said when they had broke their kiss, drool streaming from her lips. "Oh, there was a hell inside me before you came; and now I feel it has but all frozen over, there being no more chance of a climate as we know it up here ever reaching its depths. And the children, love, the children, dear..." Big Mac fell against an icy steel bar. He saw Applebloom and her friends down one end, screaming and shouting something he could not make out. Sweetie Belle gnawed at her end of the bar, causing a sound like stomach pains to reach his ear. "Quiet, you little sluts! My husband is ill to death for your jestering about! Take your nonsense further down the line, and let us of your poisonous stupidity." The voice belonged to Catherine. She wiped her mouth, as one would wipe food from it, and leaned into Big Mac for a kiss. He resisted weakly, which only made Catherine push forward all the stronger. A black-coated pony with a blue mane and a raspy voice conducted Big Mac into some cart. His legs lost their strength, and, unable to resist, he fell forward, feeling his own sigh to be a stranger's. He was aware of Catherine screaming at the Cutie Mark Crusaders a few cars ahead and then whispering something that tickled his ear. All he caught was the single word, "roller-coaster." Catherine smiled with yellow teeth and his head was forced against his seat. Big Mac had a fear of heights but something, like a fog, made the whole experience of being raised up to the the summit of the roller-coaster's hill unreal and like an indifferent dream. His stomach did a flip and then he was falling. Through one loop he witnessed Scootaloo falling out of her restraints and nearly falling on top of him. She hit a bar and kept falling. He could hear high-pitched giggles ahead of him and a cackle beside him. He threw himself out one side of the coaster, he was yanked back however to suffocate at the lips of Catherine. Several times he saw the support beams of the roller-coaster great mooncalfed swords swinging at him; several times he perceived guillotines where there were only tunnels the roller-coaster rushed through. Screams gurgled forth from the scree of the differing air-pressures. The coaster tumbled into the station. On the station platform Big Mac saw a small mass of laundry. Perhaps is was a pile of hay. He started when it moved. It crept toward the cart like a leech. Only when it made a sound did he recognized the mangled body of Scootaloo. Big Mac came to, the landscape emerging from a bush. He smelt vomit in his nostrils. "There, there, sweet baby," Catherine cooed, rubbing his back. "It's only natural. You really drank far too much at diner, you know." He voice trailed off at the end in a way that impressed Big Mac to believe his vomiting was entirely his own fault, though he couldn't understand why he should feel guilt. Big Mac and Catherine were in a garden. The first blades of sunrise tore open the the dark waters of the vesper-tide. Big Mac could see Catherine supporting him as they walked between great cliffs of hedges. A stench that was not his own made him vomit again. A chill fell through his body and stuck him to the marrow. Catherine, illumined in the cold light, appeared almost decrepit, Big Mac thought. Her coat seemed to have rotted into a black-yellow husk, and her hair as blanched as a corpse's. When she smiled Big Mac caught a glimpse of her teeth which had an unnaturally jaunted tint. "Our days together are just beginning." Big Mac stumbled into an open lawn, green as emeralds. He had run, but from what? Catherine's bloody, yellow eyes. He approached a small figure, a yellow pegasus with a long pink mane, limping. Fluttershy. She was cooing to something in her forehooves. Relieved to see a friend, Big Mac weakly expressed his joy. Fluttershy kept cooing and rocking the bundle in her hooves, without looking up. "What is it?" Big Mac breathed. She smiled the smile of a mother. Big Mac almost thought she was holding holding a new-born foal. And for an instant he imagined it was theirs. "Angel." It struck Big Mac she had smothered her pet to death.