Oh Luna, your night is beautiful! Fuck, it's beautiful!
I thrust my hooves into the air, staring at the magnificence of the starry sky, and what its goddess had brought me that night. I might've yelled a few more obscenities, but at this point, I couldn't quite tell the difference between my thoughts and reality, and I had trouble thinking straight.
Though, one thought did come to me as I finally lowered my hooves: This might be the best moment of my life. I sat there wide-eyed for a second, letting that thought sink in. I bet I looked ridiculous. Some time passed; I don't know how long it was, as short as a few seconds, or as long as a few hours. Eventually, though, that strange, almost pervy smile once again danced across my face, and I looked down at my hooves to see if they were quivering again. As I tried to focus on them, though, an inky blackness began to form around the edges of my vision. I tried to blink it away, but it didn't really work. Finally, it completely clouded over my vision, and far off in the distance, I heard my head hit the ground.
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"Hey, how many more've we got in the carriage?"
"Still got two pairs left."
Huh? Wha...
"Awesome, bring them over. Y'know, I think I might break your record tonight. What was it again?"
"10."
Ugh, my head...
"That seems doa--wait, ten!? You can't even fit that many on one pony's legs!"
"Heh. It was a pegasus."
Slowly, I began to come back into the world. My sense of hearing was the first to fully return, picking up the sound of what I could only assume was a friendly punch on the shoulder.
"That's cheating, dude!"
"Still counts in my book."
"Well, your book is gay."
My sense of touch also started to return. In particular, I felt a hoof quickly pass over one of my own. But then, the touch became very cold. Almost like stee--my eyes shot wide open, and for the first time I saw my predicament.
I first saw the object that was touching me. Luckily, it was not a knife, as I had feared. Instead, I was now confused; why was it a pair of hoofcuffs?
The pure white hoof holding the hoofcuffs quickly jumped back, as did the rest of the pony it belonged to. As he rose to a standing position, I had to tilt my head to look up at him, reminding me of my awkward position on the ground. My legs and underbelly were fully exposed, along with my...oh shit, I hope there aren't any mares walking in this direction.
The stallion who had been holding the hoofcuffs suddenly dropped them, the cold steel making a clinking noise as it made contact with the cobblestones. I looked past his red-brown mustache to his eyes, which were wide with surprise. I guessed he wasn't expecting me to wake up anytime soon. After a second though, they gradually went back to normal. He slicked his mane back with a hoof and cleared his throat, preparing himself to speak.
"Well, um..." His cop hat bobbed on top of his mane as he lowered himself to make eye contact. "As you probably figured, you're under arrest."
He glanced down at my legs, prompting me to do the sa--HOLY HELL, THEY ALL LOOK LIKE ZECORA'S NECK! Like, each pair already had three sets of hoofcuffs on it. How did I not notice that? I certainly felt the metal digging into me now, though. I tried to wiggle a hoof, but I found it basically impossible to do, and it gave me a tingly feeling when I did move it about an inch. Great. On top of their intended purpose, the hoofcuffs had also cut off my circulation.
I tried to think of something retaliatory, but the words just weren't coming out of my mouth, though since I just discovered that I was virtually unable to move, this should come as no surprise. After a few moments of deliberation, though, something finally did come to mind.
"I am?" Obviously you are, you dumbass!
A pained expression came across the cop's face, as if he was trying to hold back a laugh. A few giggles were still coming through, though. "Y'think?" he said. He then succumbed to his laughter after his hilarious joke.
His partner shared in his laughter, stomping his midnight blue hooves against the ground. He even threw his head back at one point, causing his wire-frame glasses to almost fall off his face. His mane, also of a dark blue colour, flopped around with each movement. I noticed that his cutie mark was a spyglass, prompting me to check out his partner's ass as well. I was somehow not surprised when I saw it depicted a pony just like me being brutally arrested, lying on the ground with his hooves behind his back and crying out in pain. The policepony standing above him had a pair of cuffs at the ready, and was about to slap them down on the offender's sensitive limbs.
The cutie mark quivered as its owner continued to laugh his ass off at me, and my blood boiled at the thought that they were taking so much pleasure in my arrest. Hell, they were probably committing a few crimes now; this is assault, right? It must be something! In the heat of the moment, I stupidly blurted something out. "Hey, shut the fuck up!"
They immediately did, and instead began to glare at me. The white one sternly began walking towards me, and lowered his face until we were only a few inches apart.
"That reminds me," he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "You have the right to remain silent, motherfucker! Anything you say or do, like disrespecting my authority, can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, but if you're too poor-ass to afford one, we'll appoint a really shitty one for you. Did you get all that, or are you retarded or something?"
"Of course I did, I'm not as much of an imbecile as you two," I said, anger seething in my voice after being read that bastardisation of my rights. I narrowed my eyes at the childish stallion. "But why am I being fucking arrested in the first place?"
"Oh, still feisty, eh?" he said. He nodded towards the carriage, and then to his partner. "Get the stick, Midnight Watch."
Midnight Watch ran off in the direction my head wasn't facing, his spyglass cutie mark quickly disappearing from view along with the rest of him. I could only hear the sound of his hoofbeats as he ran to the carriage. I heard him bite down on something, followed by his hooves moving rapidly back towards me on the cobblestones. His hoofbeats stopped just a few inches from my head, and I was able to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. In his teeth he held a standard-issue black police baton. I was not going to enjoy this...
"Teach our prisoner some discipline, Midnight!" yelled his partner. The baton moved like a flash, and before I knew it, a sharp, throbbing pain resonated through my skull. Damn, that hurt like hell! He whacked me a few more times for good measure, his partner rising up to his back legs and spreading his arms wide as he did so.
"Come at me, bro!" he said before bursting out laughing. Midnight couldn't resist laughing at the joke, sharing the same sense of "humour" his partner did. The nightstick fell from his mouth as he did so, finally ceasing his relentless assault. The pain began to sink in, and I tried to rub the spot with a hoof, but I had forgotten the hoofcuffs. Grumbling, I had to settle with just wincing as their chortling continued.
"Good one, P. I.!" said Midnight through a series of giggles. Yeah, beating a defenceless pony and abusing your power is the height of comedy.
"P. I." then abruptly came down from his standing position, landing with his face only a few inches from mine. He narrowed his eyes at me, and Midnight cut off his own laughter.
"You don't even remember why you're being arrested, scumbag?" said P. I. sternly. "Well, that's too bad. Because you're being arrested for first-degree murder."
My pupils shrunk into tiny dots, and my jaw almost hit the ground. "Wai-wai-wait, whaaaat?" I stammered out. I thought I only fainted when I blacked out! Do I sleepmurder, or somethi--
"Bahaha!" laughed P. I. again. I sighed in relief, happy that I hadn't killed anypony, but really, I should've expected it was just another lame joke. "You should've seen the look on your face!" He then narrowed his eyes again, hopefully in an actually serious manner this time.
"Really though," he said, the boredom that had suddenly come into his voice giving away that he was telling the truth. "You're being arrested for disturbing the peace. A bunch of local residents said you were shouting obscenities into the sky at the top of your lungs."
So, because of my reaction to what might've been the best night ever, tonight had now become the worst night ever. I bet Luna set this whole thing up after seeing that tonight would be boring otherwise. I bet she's sitting on one of those clouds up there right now, scarfing down popcorn and laughing at my misfortune.
I tried to say something back, maybe defend myself, or something, but instead I started tearing up. Why did it always have to happen to me? This night was supposed to go down as being awesome, but it turned out to be a total shitstorm. I'd been arrested before, but the last time had been when I was a teenager, filled with angst, or whatever, and just doing whatever the hell came to my mind. I knew I could get arrested for doing drugs and smashing things, but I did them anyways cause it was fun and I was dumb. But since when can you get arrested for experiencing the best night of your life?
I looked up at P. I. through my teary eyes, and saw him nervously shuffling on his hooves, his eyes shifting from left to right. This reminded me of an old mantra from high school: It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Then, it's hilarious. Unless they're crying. Then, you act like the caring pony you aren't and console them until they shut up. It was a bit unwieldy for an expression, but it seemed P. I. knew he'd gone too far regardless of whether he knew it or not. Awkwardly, he brought a shaking hoof to my cheek, half-wiping a few tears from my sodden fur. "Don't cry, dude," he said. "Crying's gay."
I'm not sure why it did, but for some reason, that made me stop my crying. P. I. then decided he'd consoled me enough, and returned to a standing position. He sighed.
"Saddle up, Midnight Watch," he said. "We've got a long way to pull this guy."
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About half an hour later, we pulled into the police station. I already knew the route, since it was the only police station in Ponyville, and my teenage self had "hung out" here numerous times, but I hadn't realized it was only a block away from The Open Mike. That whole episode already felt like it happened a month ago, even though it was still the same night.
We didn't immediately go inside the station when we got there, though. No, first, P. I. was starting to feel a little guilty, and he wanted all of my hoofcuffs taken off, though I was definitely in support of this at the time. But, because of the exorbitant number the two idiots had put on me, and the unconventional places they had clamped them, I had to sustain about ten minutes of gruelling torture as they clumsily fumbled around with the locks, accidentally stepping on me four or five times. Come on, Luna, couldn't they have been unicorns, at least? This kind of humour is just tasteless.
Finally though, the cuffs were off, but I still had to spend another ten minutes getting my circulation back. I guess I should be thankful that those two bozos took the cuffs off at all, and didn't make any wisecracks while doing so, but all the same, I made a mental note to sue them the first chance I got.
Two pairs of cuffs were then put back on me, just so I couldn't run away, before we all finally walked into the building. Inside, it was a pretty sparse space, about the same size as my shop. The walls were a bland off-white colour, with some boring grey tile to match. Along the back wall were six cheaply-made plush gray chairs, each with a multitude of holes in it that revealed the sickly yellow foam underneath. In the far left corner was a desk with an old computer on it, complete with another drab gray chair. In the far right one was a door with a stylized decal of a stallion and mare with a line between them, marking a washroom. Closer to the entrance on the left wall was a darker gray door with a barred window. From previous "visits", I knew that beyond it lay a few cells that were only used to keep prisoners for a short time before they were either set free or shipped off to the bigger South Equestrian Jail in the countryside. Thank Celestia I've never seen the inside of that place.
The two corners at the front of the room each had a potted plant and a window, but besides that, the room wasn't decorated at all. Its lighting came from a few buzzing fluorescent rods in the ceiling, not unlike the ones back at the shop. We walked under the cheaply made lights as P. I. and Midnight Watch led me to a chair, which they offered me a seat in. It was one of the more beat-up ones, though, so I kind of just awkwardly stared at it, unsure whether I wanted to sit or not. Midnight rolled his eyes, and made my decision for me, giving me a light shove into the chair, which luckily didn't collapse under my hooves.
P. I. looked at me for a second, his eyes half-lidded in disinterest, before trotting off to the computer. Either he wasn't sure whether an acceptable amount of time had passed after my breakdown to resume the taunting, or he had simply run out of things to taunt me about. With nothing better to do, Midnight Watch kept true to his namesake and watched me, focusing intently on the cuffs to make sure I wasn't trying to wiggle my way out of them.
P. I. sat down at the desk and lazily began clicking away with the mouse, supporting his chin on his free hoof. After about his fifth click, I finally realized that I still didn't know a very important piece of information.
"So, uh..." I said slowly, not exactly sure how I should phrase this. P. I. kept clicking away, not paying me any attention. After a moment of deliberation, I settled on: "What can I look forward to here?"
"Oh, nothing much," said P. I., still not bothering to look at me. "You'll be staying here tonight, and you'll also be fined a couple hundred bits, though--" His eyes widened in surprise at something he saw on the screen. "Hey, Midnight, come look at this."
P. I. quickly waved a hoof in Midnight's general direction, which finally drew Midnight's attention away from me. Disinterestedly, Midnight walked behind the desk, where P. I. cupped his hooves around his mouth and whispered something into Midnight's ear. I already thought this was strange, due to the fact that this situation could be viewed as "GAAAAAAAAY!" , or whatever P. I. would say, but I was weirded out even more when a fiendish grin started to grow on Midnight's face. P. I. then uncupped his hooves and rubbed them together under his chin with a similarly fiendish grin. I swear, they looked just like two James Bondage villains right before a rape scene.
"So, Mr. Sly Clop, is it?" said P. I. I guessed he had found my criminal record on the computer, though I was more surprised that he wasn't speaking in a bad Prench accent like all the James Bondage villains do. "I think we can arrange some terms for you."
"Uh, what do you mean?" I said nervously, my mind recoiling from thoughts of what sort of "terms" were usually "arranged" in the porno flicks.
P. I. got out of his chair and began to slowly walk towards me, a hungry look in his eyes. Midnight mimicked his movements just a step behind him. P. I. waited until he was about five inches from my face before he finally answered my question.
"Terms involving...sex." He licked his lips hungrily.
Oh fuck, they are gonna rape me! I tried desperately to get out of the cuffs, but without a key, or magic, or even fingers, it was futile. A cold sweat broke out on my brow, and my eyes became as wide as saucers. I leaned as far back as possible, but that only made them lean in closer, their piercing eyes making me feel like a cornered rabbit. I began to silently pray to Celestia.
As they continued their advance on me, though, I realized that a more direct approach wouldn't hurt. I gathered my willpower and shouted "Please, don't rape me!" at the top of my lungs.
Surprisingly, this made both cops relent their assault. In fact, they jumped about five feet away from me. Midnight's eyes were wide in astonishment, and P. I. stuck out his tongue and closed one eye in disgust.
"Ugh, rape you?" said P. I., recoiling even farther away from me. "Dude, that's gay. Like, the definition of it. We saw what type of place you run. We just want some free pornos."
I blinked a few times, just relieved that my worst fears hadn't come true. The cold sweat that had been running down the back of my neck now finally started to go away. "Oh, heh, is that all you want?" I said, my voice still wavering with every word. "Please, just tell me how many."
"Oh, well if you put it that way, five for each of us should be sufficient," said P. I., regaining his composure.
I nervously laughed, assuring myself that everything was gonna be alright. "Th-that seems fine..."
P. I. grinned again, though this time, it was like a foal opening his presents on Hearth's Warming morning. He snickered under his breath a bit before raising one of his front hooves above his head. Midnight, who had now also recovered from the shock of being accused of gay rape, returned the gesture in kind, hitting P. I.'s hoof with his own, a resounding slap resonating through the room.
"Aww yeah, free T and A for us, Midnight!" said P. I. as he continued his juvenile celebration, thrusting both front hooves into the air. Come on guys, it's just porn.
Both of them then started to do a little dance, but after a couple of steps, they awkwardly brought in their hooves and pretended like their little display never happened. I guess they realized they were still on the job and had a prisoner sitting in front of them, not to mention what they were celebrating about.
P. I.'s eyes became half-lidded in a faux display of boredom as he addressed me again, his tone now one you'd expect an officer to have. "Well, I guess I can let you off without the fine. You'll still be staying with us for the night, though. Come on."
P. I. and Midnight, who had adopted the same demeanor as his partner, then came over to the chair I was sitting in and practically dragged me out of it. They let me walk on my own towards the door to the cells, but I couldn't even consider making a run for it, because they were only a few inches away from me on either side. When we reached the door to the cells, Midnight rummaged around in his pockets for the key and put it into his mouth, and began the awkward dance us earth ponies have to do when opening locked doors. Even though P. I. would've had to do the exact same thing if he had the key, he saw this as a golden opportunity to give Midnight some more friendly mocking, asking him if he was this bad with his wife. And even though it was a horrible and hypocritical thing to do, I couldn't resist snickering a bit at that stupid joke, prompting P. I. to whack me on the side of the head. Apparently, the grace period I had gotten from my breakdown had ended.
After another thirty seconds, Midnight finally got the door open, and we all walked into the holding cells, the door's rusty hinges making enough sound to wake the dead. The room itself wasn't much bigger than the room we came from, and its walls shared the previous room's love for off-white. This room's walls, though, were made of painted-over cement blocks, including the four walls that jutted out towards the hallway, separating the room's layout into six cells with a hallway right down the middle. Each cell was fronted by off-white iron bars, a barred iron door permitting access to the dreary interior. The cells themselves weren't much bigger than the bathroom at the back of my shop, each containing a pretty uncomfortable-looking cot, along with a toilet bowl with a roll of paper on one side that gave no privacy to its user. From what I could see, though, no one was in here with us. I was led to the cell in the far right corner, Midnight once again having to awkwardly unlock the door and my cuffs before I was unceremoniously shoved in.
A smug smile formed on P. I.'s face while Midnight was relocking the door. "Sleep tight, don't let the rapists bite!" P. I. said in a sing-song voice.
It was probably the wrong thing to do, but I couldn't resist getting one back at him, a smug grin starting to cross my own face. "What, you mean you guys?" I asked with faux innocence.
P. I. and Midnight jumped back a bit, each nervously looking left and right as if to say "What rapists? I don't see any." P. I. then rapidly shook his head and blinked, probably trying to clear his mind of any strange thoughts. He took on a new, angry demeanor.
"Seems like you still haven't learned anything!" he said, putting on a pretty good tough voice. "Midnight, unlock the door again!"
"Aww, but P. I., I just closed it!" whined Midnight.
P. I. stamped a hoof against the floor. "Well, I don't care! Open it again, this guy needs to be taught a lesson!"
"I've been opening doors all night, why don't you do it?"
"Ugh, fine!" P. I. rolled his eyes and reached around to his pocket, awkwardly grabbing the key in his mouth. He shuffled up to the door and began fumbling around with the lock, but it seemed he was out of practice, as even after thirty seconds nothing had happened. P. I. grumbled, and the key slipped from his grasp, prompting Midnight to chuckle a bit.
"Hey, this is harder than it looks!" said P. I. defensively, his glare not doing anything to cease Midnight's giggles.
"I had forgotten you got a D in locks at the academy," said Midnight, putting a hoof over his mouth in attempt to quiet himself down.
P. I. rolled his eyes and grunted, annoyed. "This isn't worth it! We'll come for you in the morning, wise guy. C'mon, Midnight, let's get back to patrol."
Midnight nodded, his laugh attack finally coming to an end. He followed P. I. as they both walked out of my view, the sound of a slamming door a few seconds later confirming that they were gone.
I sighed. Here I was again. I'd like to say that I thought I'd never be back, but when you live on Soresaddle Street, jail time is more of a "when" than an "if". Trouble always finds you sooner or later, though I can't say I ever expected to be in jail for being happy about having a marefriend. But really, I thought, there was no point in lamenting about it; I was only here for the night. I decided to treat this night as normally as possible, and start work tomorrow as if nothing ever happened. It was definitely too embarrassing to tell Lyra about.
Step one on making the night as normal as possible was using the toilet as normal. I'd used a prison toilet before about ten years ago, but it was understandably awkward. At the time, there was someone in the cell across from me, and I'm still pretty sure he was trying to catch a glimpse of me. But after glancing at the cell across the way, I saw there was really nothing to be nervous about; no pony was there. I decided this amount of privacy was good enough, and I began to do my business.
I was almost done when I heard a rustle in the cell across the way, and saw somepony's head rise from behind the cot. Both of our eyes widened in surprise as we realized what I was doing, and what was in plain sight.
"Aww geez, put that thing away!" the pony said before ducking behind the cot again. This snapped me out of my stupor and prompted me to awkwardly try to hide my decency as I finished up. Unfortunately, I was so startled that I lost my balance, and I soon found myself flat on my ass. Flustered, I covered myself with my front hooves as I replayed the scene in my memory, wondering how much of me he'd seen. As I heard him say those words again, though, I realized I knew his voice.
With a blush still on my cheeks, I rose up to a standing position, and slowly walked towards the iron bars. I could now easily see a bit of his brown mane poking up behind the cot, the little tuft of hair quivering nervously. I knew this pony wouldn't intentionally look at me, which is definitely better than some perv being in the cell next to mine, but still, in some ways it'd be better if I didn't know this guy at all. Come to think of it, I was also pretty surprised he was in jail in the first place.
"I-is that you, Doctor?" I said nervously, still hoping that he didn't see as much as I thought he did.
The pony behind the cot lifted his head and turned to look at me, and I saw that it was the Doctor. I gave him a friendly smile to reassure him, though I can't deny that it was also partly for myself; hopefully, this conversation wouldn't be as awkward as I'd imagined.
He stood up and squinted at me, like he wasn't sure that he was seeing correctly. "Sly?" he said, his eyes opening wide as he answered his question himself. I was happy when I saw that my old best friend hadn't gotten into a fight or anything, though I did notice his coat was a little greener than his usual shade of brown.
"Hey," I said, my smile completely genuine. Though I did wish it was under better circumstances, it was still nice to see his face again. "Long time no see, eh? What's got you in here?"
A smile grew across the Doctor's face in turn. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. You don't need to worry about me. I was just--" His eyes went wide as he cut himself off, placing a hoof over his mouth. I was about to ask him what was wrong, but he answered the question for me when he rushed over to the toilet bowl and began to throw up. I gave him the courtesy he hadn't given me, turning away from him to let him do his business in peace.
After a good minute or two, the noises ceased, and I turned my head back to the cell. Whooves's head slowly rose out of the toilet bowl, flecks of chewed food around the end of his muzzle. He decided to try finishing his sentence from earlier. "Drunk" -- he put his head back in the bowl, barfing up the last of the alcohol -- "and disorderly..."
"Um, that's too bad..." I said as I fidgeted awkwardly. What are you supposed to say to a guy who just ralphed?
The Doctor's head rose out of the bowl again, the green beginning to recede from his face. He wiped off his muzzle with a hoof before speaking. "What are you in for?"
"Uh..." I began. How much of this should I tell him? We'd be here all night if I recapped him on everything. Wait, that's it! "...it's a long story. Let's just say disturbing the peace. How did you get drunk enough to be picked up by the cops? Did you mistake the whiskey for beer again?"
Whooves stood up and sighed. "Things...haven't been going well," he said while turning his head towards the ground, not wanting to look at me. "After I left the Mareborough, I went to the Ponyville Press, wanting to get a small ad for "Doctor Whooves' Love Counseling for Stallions" in the back of the paper. They were happy to put my ad in the paper, but the fee was a lot more than I thought it would be. That, on top of the business permit I needed to buy, left me with not even enough money to pay this month's rent. I told myself it'd be okay; that the stallions would start pouring in. But so far, I haven't even gotten one lousy call!"
He stamped his hoof in disgust, and water began to gather in the corners of his eyes. "I tried to go back and work for you, but when I saw that the 'Help Wanted' poster had been taken down and that somepony else was behind the counter, I decided it was a lost cause. And now, tonight was the deadline for my rent, but obviously, I had almost nothing. When I broke the news to my landlord, he told me I had three days to move out. Three days, Sly!" His voice wavered, and tears rolled down his face. "You can guess what I did next. The only thing I have to my name now is a bunch of old furniture and empty bottles."
Doctor Whooves then unceremoniously dropped on the floor, and began to sob like a foal. I felt like a mother whose son had just asked her if he could move back into the basement: disappointed, but underneath flabbergasted that the colt she had raised couldn't do more with his life, and wondering if she was partly to blame for it. And unfortunately, I realized, this hypothetical way his mom would think could soon become a reality.
Why did you have to be such a dumbass, Doctor? I felt a few tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I tried to wipe them away with a hoof, but they just kept coming. Damn it. I had planned on telling the Doctor how stupid he was and that he should've thought things through a bit more, but here I am crying like I just saw the end of Titanic for the first time.
They were already at their breaking point, but it was that thought that made my eyes burst with tears. Oh come on, that came out 15 years ago! Get over it already! But there was no stopping them now; one of my best buds was broke and was gonna have to move back in with his mom, I got arrested and assaulted by two idiot cops, and Jack drowned in that stupid water.
I slumped down to the ground, a puddle beginning to form at my feet, and tried to reach out and comfort Doctor Whooves, wanting to wallow in our grief together. Unfortunately, reality was having none of that, as we were still separated by two sets of iron bars, not to mention the hallway in the middle. So, we had to contend with our melancholy alone. We could've probably devised a way for things to turn out better for the Doctor, had we been capable of holding a conversation, but both our throats and minds were dry after we finished sobbing. Neither of us even wanted to get up. Eventually, our minds finally caught up with our bodies, which had been aware that it was four in the morning or something the whole time. It's a little miraculous, but both of us somehow managed to fall asleep on that cold, gravelly stone floor.
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We were awoken not too long after by the sound of the door to the cell room being slammed open. I easily recognized P. I.'s annoying voice as he started our day with "Rise and shine, dickwads!"
I groaned, and rolled over onto my back. I began to massage my neck with a hoof, thoroughly regretting my decision to sleep on the floor. My legs also had not fared very well, and if you looked close enough, you could still see rings on them where the hoofcuffs had been. I gingerly began to stand up, carefully not placing any more weight on each hoof than I had to, when the bars behind me suddenly rattled. I quickly jumped up, and immediately regretted my decision as pain shot through all my limbs. I heard P. I. snicker behind me.
"I'm just playing with you, ya pussy," he said as he began to unlock the door behind me. I carefully turned around, and saw that for once, Midnight wasn't behind him. The Doctor was, though, and he was also rising to his feet, the lack of painful grimaces revealing to me that he hadn't suffered the same humiliating treatment I had. His face instead wore a look of anger.
"Give it a rest already, P. I., this isn't high school anymore," he grumbled. "Y'think a guy named 'Pure Intentions' wouldn't be such a potty mouth..."
At the mention of his full name, P. I. quickly wheeled around, the scared look the Doctor got in his eyes telling me that P. I. really didn't like being called that. "You're this close to a beating, Whooves," he said, malice dripping from his voice. "Remember who pummeled whom back then. You wouldn't want to have to call your mommy again, now would you?"
Whooves' eyes darted from side to side like a small animal before he finally shook his head "no". Satisfied, P. I. returned to getting me out of my cell. A moment later, I heard the click of the door unlocking. Trudging out of my cell, I winced as the cuffs were slapped back on me before P. I. led me out of the room, basically throwing me into one of the plush chairs when we got back to the lobby. Midnight was sleeping like a baby in the chair beside me, his cap over his eyes, and a string of drool hanging from his mouth.
"Midnight!" barked P. I., making his partner snap awake. Midnight's drool fell to the ground as he wrenched his head back, joining the rest of the saliva that had fallen out of his mouth in a little puddle on the floor.
He blinked a few times, and wiped his lips with a hoof before speaking. "Hey P. I., what's up?"
"I just need you to guard Mr. Clop here for a bit while I go get the other dumbass out of his cell," he said, turning back to the door. The more brazen part of my mind wanted to correct my captor, but I luckily shot that idea down before it made its way out of me.
As prompted, Midnight switched back to "watching" mode, his eyes eerily staring at me. I recalled a movie I watched that took place in Trottingham, where the cops always stood stock still until someone broke the law. Curious, I waved a hoof in front of his face.
He sighed and dropped his gaze. "That's only in movies, y'know," he said jadedly. I guess I should've expected that.
The door opened again, and Doctor Whooves entered the room first as he was shoved through by P. I. Whooves stumbled around a bit, but managed to regain his balance despite the cuffs he was wearing. P. I. motioned for me to come over, a bored look on his face. I stood in front of him as he reluctantly unlocked my cuffs again, followed by Whooves'.
P. I. sighed. "Well, you scumbags are free to run again. Midnight and I will be coming over to your shop soon though, Sly, so don't miss us."
"Yeah, yeah," I said, gingerly feeling my hooves again.
The Doctor glanced over at my hooves, and an inquisitive look appeared on his face. "Y'know, P. I., you didn't have to put cuffs on us again. I had them on for all of what, twenty seconds?"
P. I. had turned away from us now and was walking over to the desk, but we could still see a bit of a blush appear on his cheeks as he stopped dead in his tracks. "I-I knew that! I just wanted to see you suffer some more, that's all!"
Whooves decided not to prod any further, happy he had gotten the last laugh. I nodded my head towards the door, and together, we walked out of the police station, ending this humiliating chapter of our lives.
The cool morning air felt brisk on my face, though maybe a little too much so, as I shivered a bit when a breeze flew by. Today was September 1st, and fall was definitely on its way. To my left, Whooves sighed, and began to trudge down the steps, probably back to his apartment to begin packing up. An idea struck me as my old buddy reached the bottom.
I put on a warm, friendly smile. "Hey Whooves, why don't you stay at my place today?"
He turned back to me, a small smile beginning to form. He sighed with contentment. "Sure. That sounds nice."
I walked down the steps and began the half-hour walk back to the shop, Whooves walking beside me, resting his head on my shoulder. What he's going through right now must be a huge burden on him. I turned my head and saw a single tear fall from his eye. Poor guy.
Right before we turned the corner onto Mane Street, I looked back at the police station and saw P. I. looking at us from the window. I squinted, and saw him mouth a single, drawn-out word.
"Gaaaaaaaaaaay."
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Author's Note
Well, uh, I bet you guys didn't expect this. And after I finished Chapter 8, neither did I. The whole idea for this chapter came from me wanting not to just do the same clichéd thing, which at this point is one of two things: 1. Sly and Lyra live happily ever after, though not before another, more intimate, kiss scene or 2. Suddenly, a wild love interest appeared! Sly comments that she's hot, or something, Lyra gets mad, they grow more distant, but after a few more chapters, they make up again and everyone's happy, woot.
While I was thinking one night of what I could do instead of one of those two options, I came up with the idea that it'd be funny if Sly got arrested for shouting so much at such a late hour, and that idea amused me so much that I just ran with it. I also always knew that I wanted to reintroduce Doctor Whooves in this chapter, and going to jail was a good way to do this (man, that sounds strange). As for Pure Intentions and Midnight Watch, they're basically the two cops in Superbad, which I watched not too long before I started writing this. I didn't like the movie too much, but I did like the two cops, though I think I underrepresented Bill Hader's character. What can I say, I like Seth Rogen more.
Overall, I like what I've done with this chapter, even though it doesn't really advance the romance. Don't worry, there is a method to my madness, and I originally planned on this only being half the chapter, but I wanted to give more screen time to the two cops, and to further reinforce the fact that Sly's life wasn't all suddenly right. Don't worry, next chapter, we'll see Lyra again.
I was only two days late on the deadline I set for myself, but still, I wish that it didn't take so long to get this chapter out. Even with the rewrite of 1, it shouldn't have taken more than a month. It's here now, at least. And even though this was only going to be half of the chapter originally, it's still the longest one, even without my longass author's notes.
If you haven't seen my note on my blog to Chapter 1 Rewritten, you should probably check it out. It has fanart!
See you guys next chapter.