//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 - The Ultimatum // Story: Cheese Sandwich Gets a 'Real Job' // by PensacolaRanger //------------------------------// It was late afternoon, as rain fell with thunder booming & lightning all around, on the cold stone streets of Manehattan. The party pony known as Cheese Sandwich, clad in his Colt Eastwood spaghetti-western cowpony drifter costume, his faithful rubber chicken companion Boneless 2 perched on his back for a rider, and cigarillo party favor held droopily in his teeth, was feeling as gloomy as the weather. With the weight of the world tarrying on his every hoof-clop, Cheese was following one of the roads out of his home town, and making his weary way along a narrow suspension bridge, over the black choppy waters of the city harbor. It was the worst day of his life. "How did I ever get a name like that? What in the HAY was Mom thinking? Cheese Sandwich, hmph... That's a food item; not a pony's real name. Not even a colt's name..." the cheddar-yellow pelted, brown curly-haired, hazel-green eyed equine berated himself. He wanted to be alone... as the cliche' movie line implied. "No friends. No family. Hmph, what family?" Cheese thought to himself. By now his mother and father had passed away, and his kid brother had moved away to the Applewood Hills. So... whom did that leave? A Narcissistic older sister by about 9 years: a portly but energetic mare with a short red mane and gilded chain-&-platter table scales for a Cutie Mark, who works as a business analyst for a high-tech systems company in lower Manehattan, but attends medieval festivals in the Crystal Empire? Never writes, unless she wants something. An uncle in Appleloosa: a muscle-bound grey stud with a short-cropped peppery mane and a cannon for a Cutie Mark, who once served in the Royal Canterlot Army; now a retired author in his mid-80's, who does nothing but point out other pony's faults whIle reminiscing about his glory days? "Hmm... what friends, for that matter?" he thought further. Sure, there was Pinkie Pie, the mare who started him on this wacky & rocky road* to self-discovery, and all of her Ponyville friends. But what could he tell them now? "Sorry, Pinks, but... you'll have to be the full-time best party pony in all of Equestria now. Old Cheese is, well... old cheese. It's over. My time is up. This rubber chicken's made its last run. This hombre's 'gonna have to stop drifting and settle down, hang up old Boneless 2 and his hat & poncho for the last time, and... (sigh) become a civilized, respectable citizen. No more party cannons, or confetti, or balloons, or bunting, streamers, horns, presents, cake or punch. The time to pay the bills for the whole shebang, has finally come. But ol' Cheese doesn't have enough bits to pay the band its proper due. I'm washed up, Pinks. This Super-Duper, is now a party pooper. My party-throwing days are done." "Double-hmph... Some pity party speech. Guess that's the only kind of party Cheese will be throwing from now on." he concluded. *** The storm didn't let up one bit, but soon Cheese reached a countryside clearing beyond the harbor, with short-bladed green grass, clumps of tall thick oak trees surrounding it on every side, and a short thick hedge-bush not far from the roadside. He could still remember from earlier that day (about an hour-and-a-half ago) the shrill sound of the landlady's whinny---a frumpy middle-aged cranky mare with a red curly mane & tail and a bag of gold bits for a Cutie Mark---as she issued her ultimatum, for his reneging for the last time on the monthly rent, of the only home he'd ever tried to make on the upper east side. (Not a mansion; just a run-down apartment in an old tenement building.) "PLAYING FOR FILLIES' PARTIES IS NOT A REAL JOB!! I'VE GOT ANOTHER CLIENT READY TO PAY 500 BITS A MONTH! YOU'D BETTER GET YOURSELF A REAL JOB AND START EARNING SOME REAL MONEY, OR GET OUT!! TAKE THAT SILLY RUBBER CHICKEN AND GO!! YOU'VE GOT 30 DAYS, YOU SLACKER!!" As Cheese dwelt on these harsh words, the storm around him intensified, thunder & lightning crashing & flashing even more and rain coming down in sheets, reflecting the storm now building in his face. "Triple-hmph... Not a real job?" Oh, boy... that was it, for him! That was the ONE THING that really got on his nerves... Ponies both rich and poor, telling him that the happiest job he'd spent his whole life living & doing: pursuing happiness and bringing it to life for others----WAS NOT A REAL JOB??? "HOW DARE THEY! OF ALL THE NERVE! WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE?" thought Cheese! With a CRASH-FLASH of thunder & lightning and a furious blow, Cheese Sandwich spat out the party favor! Then with a yell he grabbed the rain-soaked flat-brim hat off his head and threw it on the damp ground! Then he reached back with his teeth, tore the poncho off his body with a furious grunt---the wet rubber chicken went flying---and threw that on the ground, too! Thunder & lightning exploded around him like battlefield ordinance fire, raging along with him! Then he stomped and stomped, and stomped some more, neighing like a mad horse, snorting like a bull, until both hat & poncho were shredded, muddied, misshapen lumps of dead fabric. After a while (spent sobbing in the hedge-bush where he was sure no one could see him) the storm abated at last, and the Weather Ponies cleared the skies. Cheese searched glumly for his rubber chicken friend and party favor, and picked each of them up where they had fallen on the grass. He then ambled back over to the trampled remains of his cowpony costume... dug a hole in the grass with his hooves, kicking up a mound of moistened dark-brown dirt, and dropped the remains into the shallow grave, rubber chicken, party favor and all, and quickly buried them. He then found a small round-edged flat rock, and stuck it upright, into one end of the grave. At last, Cheese stood on all fours before the grave, and bowed his head in prayer: "Ashes to ashes...dust to dust... The Gods give... and the Gods take away*.... Rest In Peace, Boneless 2..." He stood a long while, until Celestia's Sun dipped below the horizon. Then...slowly... numbly... he ambled back to the road, and continued following it, not caring one bit where it took him. For all his fuming and fussing... he knew the landlady was right. He had to find something else to do, to earn his living. But what else could he do? What other job skills did he have? This was what he chose to do with his life. And now... he couldn't do it anymore. What to do? Dear Gods in the Heavens.... what to do now? He didn't know. He just didn't know. Well.... maybe one thing. Hard though it may be... Head to Ponyville. Find Pinkie Pie. Break the bad news to her... ...and beg her for help. [CONTINUED NEXT CHAPTER]