//------------------------------//
// Wherein Sassy Disregards the Warning of a Wisened Hobo 
// Story: Sassy Saddles Meets Sasquatch 
// by Mannulus 
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	Sassy Saddles stood beside a broken-down train in Whitetail Wood, deep in thought.  Her face glowed with the intensely radiated light of a nearby arc welder.
What alliterative exclamation would best express my displeasure at this wretched predicament? she thought. Oh, bother; I can never think of one when I'm trying.  Best to just ask; it will come to me when I need it.
"How long do you intend to take in repairing this infernal machine?" she finally asked.  "You've been at this for half an hour already!"
The engineer lowered his welder from where he had been patching the locomotive's boiler, and lifted his welding mask.
"Does this look like something that can be repaired in half an hour?" he asked.
"I have no idea," said Sassy. "I don't know anything about locomotives."
"Uh-huh," said the engineer, rubbing at his chin, which was filthy with coal dust. "Well, if you'd like, I can stop what I'm doing and tell you a little about 'em."
"Are you being passive aggressive with me?" asked Sassy.
"No," said the engineer. "I just really, really love trains.  I love them so much that I would stop in the middle of vital repair work that puts me well behind schedule to explain how this hole makes this one completely impossible to operate.  Somewhere along that explanation, I would probably get to the part where I would tell you that it was an incredibly bad idea for you to be watching me weld so closely without eye protection.  Like, that could literally, actually, for-reals-yo drive you blind."
"Caparisons and Cataracts!" shouted Sassy. "Why didn't you warn me!?"
"I was being passive aggressive," said the engineer.
"Well-played," said Sassy Saddles.
The engineer only shrugged.
"Whatever the case," said Sassy, "I will need to know how long of a wait I can expect.  It is three in the afternoon now, and I have a vital business meeting in Ponyville at six this evening."
"Not anymore you don't," said the engineer. "Not unless you're gonna hoof it."
"Hoof?" asked Sassy. "You imply I should walk?"
"I have to patch this hole, refill the boiler from the river -- by bucket -- and stoke the fire back up," said the engineer. "You ain't making Ponyville by six on this train, but it's only maybe five or so more miles.  You could walk that in a couple hours, easy.  Just follow the tracks."
"I see," said Sassy Saddles.
"For now you do," said the engineer, tapping the arc welder on his hoof with a wry grin.
"Bravo," said Sassy. "Very droll.  I congratulate your wit, sir, but I fear I must leave you to the remainder of what I am certain is a magnificently solitary and unfulfilling existence."
"Ouch," said the engineer. "Was that even called for?"
"No," said Sassy Saddles, and with that, she turned and headed back to her train car to retrieve her things.
Passing through the door of the car, she found the same four ponies she had left there a few minutes earlier.  Of the four, only three were awake: June Bug, a young earth mare and florist on her way home to Ponyville, Eaglequick, a spectacular athlete from Cloudsdale, and Rula Thirtyfoura, a tall, sumptuous unicorn mare whose profession shall go unmentioned for reasons of decency.  These three ponies' names and the brief versions of their life stories Sassy had learned inadvertently by overhearing their conversation on the train ride thus far.  This is not to say that Sassy cared; it was merely that such matters were mentioned within earshot of her seat.
The remaining pony, who lay covered in newspapers on the rearmost seat of the car, was the train's obligatory hobo, as dictated by Celestia's "maintenance of proper atmosphere in rail travel" act, passed some twelve years prior.
Without speaking a word to anypony, Sassy went to her seat, and began to collect her things and place them in her saddlebag.  She was nearly done when June Bug spoke.
"Where are you going, Ms. Saddles?" she asked. "There isn't a stop around here."
"Garters and Gabardine!" blurted Sassy. "I am walking to Ponyville to make an important business meeting with a valuable client!  Are there any more of my private affairs that you need explained in detail?"
"No, not really," said June Bug, quite clearly unaware of Sassy's irritability.  "It's just that I'd really like to get home, and I was thinking that if somepony else was going to walk, I might just go along."
"Yeah, me too," said Eaglequick. "It's boring here."
"Perhaps I should walk with you as well," said Rula Thirtyfoura. "I have an important client to meet in Ponyville, myself."
The train car fell silent, except for the sound of Eaglequick clearing his throat.  Awkward glances were exchanged, and Sassy began to parse her vast mental rolodex for words that would alliterate well with "promiscuity."
Something that starts with a P... Something obscure, archaic; a word nopony uses anymore...  Preferably related to clothing on at least a  tangential level... Oh, blast; I just know I'll think of it later.  As soon as I step off this train car, there it will be, clear as day.
"Well," said Sassy, finally giving up, "I would actually prefer..."
A filthy, gray hoof clapped down onto her shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise and leap forward, wheeling around to face towards the rear of the train car as she did so.
"Y'all don't NEED to go walkin' in none of these here woods!"
It was the hobo.  He was an ancient, gray unicorn stallion with his horn broken off half a hoofwidth above his forehead, a greasy beard slicked down to his chest and full of moldy breadcrumbs, an obvious eye infection, three gold teeth, an old and much-faded tattoo of Princess Celestia done as a pinup girl, a ragged canvas duster, filthy wool socks on all four hooves that were torn out so that the tip of each hoof protruded, the last vestiges of the butt of a cigar suspended on a toothpick, a pair of denim trousers held firm to his waist by no more than a narrow piece of frayed rope, and a crow that rode on his shoulder, itself having a tiny, corduroy jacket over a pair of tiny, patched overalls, a frayed toboggan hat so threadbare as to be worn completely through at the crown of crow's head, minuscule soiled rags wrapped around its feet, a sling on one of its wings, and a tiny flask of some unidentifiable liquid, presumably inebriatory in nature, from which, at that moment, it took a swig.
"My goodness," said Sassy, and that was all.
"T'ain't no good what's ever come out walkin' this stretch of the tracks here in Whitetail Wood!" cried the Hobo.
"CAW!" cried the crow on his shoulder.
"I seen thangs, I tells ya!" he shouted. "I seen a shadder that moves in the shadders 'longside the tracks!  A thang as unnatural as Discord's own bathmat -- a thang likin' to an ape what glances back over i'shoulder whilst passin' just far enough away as to keep ya from gettin' closernuff t'get a good pitcher!"
"CAW, CAW!" cried the crow.
"Oh, you mean the sasquatch," said Rula Thirtyfoura. "That was a hoax, sir.  Everyone knows that."
"Yes," said Sassy. "They used an out-of-focus camera and shot the footage from a distance to make it difficult to validate its authenticity."
"Say as y'all will!" bellowed the hobo. "I'm a certified itinerant railroad bum!  I been ridin' these trains for nigh on a week, now!  I know thangs what y'all don't -- what y'all cain't!  I seen it all  from this here railcar, and there's thangs in this world y'all sheltered city ponies ain't imagined in all yer darkest nightmares!"
"CAW, CAW, CAW!" the crow erupted, but this time its cries broke down into a fit of coughing.
The bird doubled over at the waist, hacked, spat, and cleared its throat.  It beat on its chest with its one good wing and coughed several more times.  It grunted in obvious discomfort, and continued to expectorate and wheeze for several more seconds, until all eyes in the train car were fixed on it.  Finally, standing upright, it gave a final, mighty clearing of its throat, and drank again from its flask.
It said nothing.
"Mark these words, and mark 'em well," said the hobo. "The sasquatch is real, and if y'all go out into them woods, sure as Celestia sits on her throne, you'll find him -- Or he'll find you!"
"Dusters and Doublets," said Sassy Saddles.
You see, she thought.  You can do it when you're not being such a try-hard.
"This has all been a splendidly quaint display of whatever it is you are," said Sassy, meaning to continue, though the hobo cut her off.
"I'm a hobo," he said. "My cutie mark's even one-a them sticks with a sack on it what you carry throwed over a shoulder to tote your few worldly p'sessions in it.  Wanna see?"
He began to fumble at the frayed rope that supported his trousers.
"Thank you, but I quite believe you without a demonstration," said Sassy Saddles.  "Now, the fact remains that I have a meeting to attend, and no silly urban legend is going to stop me from seeing to my work."
She turned to the others.
"Furthermore, though I have no particular attachment to any of you, I'm going to invite the rest of you along just to defy the rantings of this very clearly unhinged old stallion and his tubercular crow.  Will any of you deign to accompany me?"
"No thanks," said June Bug. "I think I'm good."
"Yeah," said Eaglequick. "This old guy's crazy, yeah, but he seems pretty legit."
"Indeed," said Rula Thirtyfoura, "Look at his eyes... his empty, desolate, weary eyes.  Those are eyes that have seen things, and I've seen eyes that have seen things, let me tell you."
"I'll bet," said Sassy.
"And he does have the crow," said June Bug. "I mean, does that crow look like it would hang out with someone who wasn't some sort of ill omen?"  
"Caw," the crow grunted, and it took another swig off the flask.
"Fair enough," said Sassy. "I shall make the trek alone.  All the better to enjoy the scenery -- the most certainly sasquatch-free scenery -- of Whitetail Wood.  Good day to you all."
Nopony made any effort to stop her as she finished gathering her things, though the hobo did speak once more.
"Afore ya go" he said, "don't suppose ya got a spare can-a beans?"
"No sir, I do not," said Sassy.
"Yeah," said June Bug. "Nopony really carries a thing like that."
"Dang," said the hobo.
"Caw," said the crow.
Without a further word, Sassy Saddles turned to leave the car, and as soon as her hoof touched earth, it came to her.
"Pleated," she said. "Pleated Promiscuity; there it was."
She sighed, and shook her head slightly.
"File it for later," she said, and set off down the tracks towards Ponyville.