Negative Thoughts

by Jerky

Chapter Four - Common Hospitality

*AN: Some of you may not like this chapter. At all. Apologies if you didn't, and I'll gladly listen to your reasons in the comment's section. I won't lie, this segment will be slooowww. Very. Just a warning to all of you, when I say segment I mean multiple chapters, possibly five or so. Happy New Year's!*

"Ah, welcome into my humble abode!" said the cheery old stallion, his grey wrinkled face turning into a smile as he turned around to look at the pair. He held the door, ushering them in. "Well, don't be shy, come in!" The two walked in slowly, not believing in what they saw. It was the most beautiful thing they had ever laid they're eyes on. The house reminded the man of his grandparents, and by that he meant both of them. He couldn't be sure about the threstral, but he was certain she had a bit of family as well, so he just assumed she was smiling due to the fact it brought back some memories. Not that he actually trusted the fucking fiend, but that was quite apparent.

"Tish a presshy nish plash you gawt her." the human attempted to speak, and he did albeit not clearly but god damn did it hurt. His face was still bruised to all hell. The old stallion turned his head towards the threstral, looking at her questioningly. She smiled nervously. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the human wasn't paying attention as he let all the details of the homey cabin absorb into his his coronas.

"Why thank you sir." The stallion smiled at the human. The man wasn't paying attention. There was a fire running surrounded by brick to keep the flames from licking the wood above and beside it, the walls were...well, they were walls in a wooden cabin. A mantle stood on top of the lit fireplace, an odd shaped wooden tube with metal surrounding it's inside resting on the U shaped hooks. There were four rooms in the house as he realized once the kind pony showed the pair around in an effort of hospitality.

The dining room and the living room were crunched together, a table sitting at the far end of the room with four chairs around it. It was a huge break from the bullshit he had been dealing with, but his thirst came on quick. "Do you hash watah?" he said in an attempt to sate his thirst. The stallion tried to make out what he was saying, as it was hard to fully understand someone who talked they had the downs.

"Yes, let me get it for you." the old stallion replied, trotting over to a a wooden barrel with a one of those faucets they have on wine storages. He grabbed a wooden cup (with his hooves for some ungodly known reason) and let the water flow from the storage, forcing down the lever. Honestly, he really didn't know how the pony would get the water - it's not like they have tap or anything. How in god's name did he find it anyway?

It may surprise you, the reader, as to why the main character is hardly questioning the nature or the why of the old stallion and the reason he took them in. Well, there's an easy answer to that question, but let your's truly answer it with a question: What would you do if you were just in the wilderness for two days, with no food nor drink or a roof to sleep under and you're offered an opportunity that could possibly reverse all of that? Well, a strong doubt is cast upon one who consents to denying the offer. Of course, now that this question (which will indubitably be asked in the comment section, or no one cared enough to give a damn about it) is answered, we have no obstacles in the way.

Ah well, it's not like he was going to question where the beverage comes from. Water was water, and by god, he needed it. His throat was parched, his tongue as dry as a muslim's asshole, and his stomach as empty as Indiana. The man's face lit up in a smile as the wooden mug of the essential life sustaining liquid was given to him, responding in a poorly coordinated struggle to get as much of the water into his system made evident by the fact his shirt was doused in water by the end of the session. He let out a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a filthy arm covered in, well, filth.

The old stallion let out a laugh, soon being joined by the threstral. The human didn't know what they were laughing about, maybe the slipped a rouphie in his drink or something, but he also let a chuckle loose. He supposed a little laughter wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't noticed at the time, but the bat pony was silently sipping and supping the water, instead of downing it all into one gulp. The fire flickered softly in the room, heating the three. The man would have given that fireplace a fuckin' medal, if he had one.

"I'd hate to pester you sir, but perhaps you'd have something for us to eat?" The threstral opened her mouth to ask the stallion, clearly just as hungry as the human was.

"Why of course! You two must be starving. The weather was quite hostile, if I do say so myself. I hope soup sounds fine, hm?" The two nodded, looking at him as he stood up and trotted to the kitchen, the sound of silverware and bowls set the man's concerns to rest. His eye drifted over to the threstral who sat quietly. He turned to look at the fireplace once he grew bored. Straightening out his back, he let out a yawn. He was quite hungry, but he could wait. It was free food after all.

He was quite curious as to what the pony would cook up - perhaps tomato soup or potato soup - he didn't really have an idea of what plants were actually in this place. His head began to lose strength as he became more and more weary. He'd been up for quite a while, and no doubt dinner was going to take a while. He let his shoulder cushion his cheek, ignoring the pain that resulted from it. He let his eyes close, and his muscles relax for a well deserved rest.

****************************************************************

The man sighed, texting back his mother on his phone. No, he didn't want to fucking go back to that shit hole of a town and spend Christmas with those fuckwits.

'Can we talk about it?' He read the text.

'No.' he put a hand on his head.

'Why not? Eric brought over his family! His son and all!'

'What? Another fucking Eric? The world is doomed, surely.' He smirked at the phone's display. Not at anyone in particular though.

'You know that's just mean, son.' he could feel the frown on his mother's face.

'Ah, who give's a flyin' fuck, eh? I have three brothers, it's not like I'm going to be short on any of their bastard hell spawn.'

'...' his mother texted, making clear she didn't find his output amusing in the slightest.

'...'s right motherfucker, I could care less about those god damned pricks.' He made it clear he didn't give a fuck.

'Well, I guess that'll be the third Christmas in a row you've purposely abandoned.'

'And I still don't give a flying fuck, are you surprised?'

'No. And quite frankly, I think you don't realize how important you are to us.'

'Don't bullshit me. You wretched shits can live without me for a while, don't start the god damn waterworks yet.'

'You want your brother's input on this?'

'Which one? I can't tell the difference, they're all cunts.' He turned off his phone as he sent it. While the man didn't know the effects that action caused, he knew that it sent a message. He didn't want a family, and he was perfectly happy without one.

Because he was totally making big fat stacks, right?

The man rubbed his head and sighed.
******************************************************

"Monkey, wake up." said a feminine voice.

"Hrgnh?" he groaned as he rolled his head, refusing to open his eyes.

"Wake up..." a hoof prodded his face.

"Nah..."

"Food?" He immediately perked up, his eyes bursting open as he searched room.

"Whur? I'm fuggin starvins." He pushed the threstral's hoof away, standing up and cracking his back. He smelled it now, causing his mouth to water. He was really hungry.

"Just finished. Careful, it's hot." the old stallion came into view as he cracked his neck, stretching out his back. The man didn't know how the hell he cracked his back on all fours, but he still did. He wasn't going to question it, after all he was a guest. The man and the threstral stood still a moment, a bit confused.

"Well, what are you waiting for? It's on the counter." The old stallion rolled a log into the fire with his muzzle, biting into it and dropping it into the fire. The stallion muttered something close to a curse. The pair walked into the kitchen, the aroma of the soup causing their mouths to water.

"Where are the spoons?" the threstral asked.

"Do you relly need one? Itsh not like you don't drink blood, how could it poshibly be differensh from drinking shoup?" the man answered, raising the bowl of steaming soup to his mouth and taking a sip. He immediately regretted it, the soup burning his throat and his gums. He displayed it as his face turned into one of anguish.

"I's shtand corrested." the man frowned. The threstral burst into a fit of laughter. The man was tempted to throw the soup at her.

He couldn't complain though, the wooden bowls were very good insulators. Now that he thought about it, he had never eaten from a wooden bowl or a wooden plate. It kind of surprised him when he lingered on it.

"The silverware is in the second drawer to the farthest left." the old stallion called out. The man pulled the handle of the smooth wooden drawer, grabbing a rather awkward spoon. The handle was relatively normal, however it had been, of course, made for ponies. Which to a certain degree made sense, except the groove was like a fucking cough syrup cup, except quite a bit larger in size. It was literally a small dipper.

The man took a moment to look at the kitchen before he headed off to the table where the old stallion sat at. The room was, well, old fashioned. But by all means, for an old pony living out in the middle of fucking nowhere, it was a fine looking structure. In fact, the entire house seemed to be crafted by experts. The human didn't question it - after all, he literally came out of the fucking sky.

"Mind handing me a spoon?"

"Huh? Oh yah, shure." he reached into the drawer and handed it to her.

"Thanks." The threstral put the spoon into her filled bowl, cradling it with one of her front legs. He took a look at his soup, having not inspected it surprisingly. Vegetable soup.

"Fucking figures..." he muttered. He couldn't be too miserable, after all food was food. The man sat at the table, eyeing the old man with a bit of hesitation. For all he knew, he'd been roophied.

'Oh what the hell...' He lifted the odd spoon to his mouth, taking a small sip. He grimaced, the soup still too hot to bare, even in small quantities. He blew a little over the miniature cup. Feeling satisfied, he gulped down the small cup attached to the handle. He let out a muffled scream as the soup burnt his tongue. He forced it down his throat, although he was tempted to spit it out. The old stallion shook his head, obviously disappointed in the stupidity of the human.

"Umm...well, how was your day?" The threstral asked the stallion, making a rather weak attempt at conversation.

"It was the usual."

"Thanks for taking us in, really, I don't know how long we could have lasted if you didn't come along to help us." The threstral said while the human beside her furiously blew on his bowl of soup.

"Ehh, don't worry about it. Needed company anyway." the stallion's mood dampened slightly.

"I've just realized something, I never quite introduced myself have I?" the threstral put a dirty hoof up to her chin, before letting it drop. "Name's Shaded Light." She smiled warmly at the stallion.

"What the fuck kind of name is Shaded Light? Thatsh a double negative!" The human perked up.

"Says the hairless monkey!" she said angrily, clearly flustered.

"Shays jah prishy fagot whosh name ish Shaded Light! Yours parentsh must hash been very original!" the human insulted.

"Quiet down you two. There are better things to argue about, like how somepony tries to insult some other pony by their name. That's just low."

"I know right?" Shaded said, proud of her verbal victory.

"Gangbanged."

"Well, anyways, you can call me Grey Weaver, at least that's what the ponies in town call me. Don't really know why, I'm not a weaver." the old pony's face wrinkled in the tiniest amount of confusion. "Ermm...your friend, does he have a name as well?"

"Hrm?" The human looked up, mid sip.

"Your name?"

"Uhh.... Idunno?" the man said, rubbing his head.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I's banged my head up prishy bash, I forgots my namesh." the man lied. Of course he knew his name, but do these ponies really need to know it?

"Well, that certainly explains your speech ermm...difficulties. Want me to help you come up with a name?"

"Howsh you'd guesh?" the man let out a chuckle, the only one finding his petty attempt at humor amusing. "Ergh, shure. Heh." he said awkwardly.

"Ooo!" the threstral raised her hoof as high as she could, her mouth in an 'O' shape through her helmet. "Pick me!" The man and the stallion looked at the threstral. A peculiar creature indeed.

"What?" the man said exasperatedly.

"I know what your new name could be. Monk! Get it? 'Cause you're a hairless monkey!"

"No."

"But why?"

"Cush you'rsh a fooking prishy fagget whosh names ish Shaded Light, thash why!" he glared at her, obviously annoyed.

"I swear by the gods, the next time you make fun of my name I'll show what memory loss really feels like Monk!" she returned his glare, snarling at the human.

"Jeshush, calm shah fook down..." the human crossed his arms.

"I've never heard such filth come out of two mouths before. Those insults were pitiful, barely a two out of ten if I do say so myself." Weaver joked. The two turned their heads and looked at the stallion, with a deadpan look they slowly shook their heads in disappointment. The stallion obviously didn't give a damn as made clear by the fact he had the most shit eating grin. They resumed eating in silence.

"I suppose we can discuss what you'll name will be, but I have to admit Monk is quite clever." Weaver broke the calm.

"Pleash, jusht...nawt roight noi okay?" the human said awkwardly. "Really, Is needs shome medical attenshun for my jaw. It hursh like a bish."

"Oh, it was your jaw? I thought...erm, never mind about that. I suppose we could go into town tomorrow and see if that unicorn doctor knows how to fix it. I doubt it's broken, probably just needs some resetting." Weaver stretched out his mouth, his lower jaw squirming as he wiggled it.

"Town?" the man said, not quite believing his ears.

"Uh...yes. Y'know, the one I mentioned earlier?"

"I didn'ts hear you menshun a town doe."

"Ah, well I thought I did. Real nice ponies down there, helped me build my house. If you're looking for any work, last time I went into town to fetch some things I heard there's a few ponies hiring."

"I gueesh I moight look into it later. Mind if I ashk where we'll be sheeping?"

"Well, it's too late to go out for you two to bathe, so I suppose you both will have to rub yourselves off with a wet towel as best you can. Don't want the bed to get filthy, you understand right?"

"Yeah, I gueesh sho." The human dipped into the soup with the odd spoon and gulped it down. To his surprise, it wasn't as nearly hot. He lifted the bowl to his mouth and took a sip.

"Well, you two might be stuck in town for a little while. The pegasi say their scheduled for snow soon. It'll clear out by the end of Hearth's Warming Eve though. Give you two plenty of time to rest up and leave 'til the next snowfall."

"And when ish that?"

"About...a month or so."

"Hrngh...uhm, what's Harsh Warmingsh Eves?" the human guessed it was their Christmas, but he wanted to be sure.

"Yep, you definitely aren't native around Equestria. Basically, it's where all the ponies get together to clean up the left over snow from winter, usually we wouldn't bother with winter but it rest's the crops so they aren't damaged next year. Plus, the kids love the snow." The human was mindfucked at how such small creatures, horses no less, could actually influence weather.

The man lifted the bowl up to his mouth, finishing off the soup. He wiped his mouth with a rag lying on the table, wincing as the cloth touched the inflamed area around his cheeks and jaw.

"Sho.. I gueesh ima have to wash up then. Mind telling me where the towel ish?" the man asked, running a hand through his hair.

"At the end of the hall on the left. If you gotta use the bathroom, make sure only to use one flush. Those fancy new outhouses aren't very good at conserving water." Weaver said, somehow flipping off reality by leaning back in the chair with his hooves seemingly holding up his head.

'How the fuck do they have plumb- you know what, I'm not even going to question it. At least I'm not shitting out in an outhouse or something.' The man stood up and walked down the hall. A few paintings aligned the walls, but no pictures. The ceiling and the wall was clearly just wood - no dry wall, just polished wood. It makes a man wonder how the hell they dealt with termites.

He let out a 'shit' as he looked at the doors of the house, realizing they he actually had to duck under it. It wasn't like the entrance, where he could easily just walk through with close lining himself. Here though, he actually had to make himself smaller. Hell, now that he thought about Weaver was actually shorter than Shaded Light. There was a lot of things he hadn't actually thought about during his 'little walk' out in the woods. It was odd, usually males were taller than females. Although, age could come into play it just doesn't seem like a pony would be affected by decompression of the spine. At least, he was pretty sure that's what happens when you get older. Some shit like that.

He let out a grunt as he hunched his back, ducking under the doorway. His eyes were met with a rather clean bathroom, although a quite odd one compared to the ones back home. Everything was still made out of wood, except the toilet was...well, rather odd. It was made out of metal, if he had to guess maybe copper or bronze. He looked at where the cleaning towels resided, soaked in a wooden basin filled with soapy water. The dry towels were by the counter, under the mirror.

The man closed the door behind him, a slow creak came from it as it shut. Unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping his zipper, he kicked the pants off his legs. Stretching his back, he lifted up his arms as he took of his Metallica T-shirt and let it drop to where his pants were. The man slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down and kicking it off. He picked up his bundle of clothes and put them on the counter by the drying rags.

The man looked at his scraggly self in the mirror, but most of his attention was on his torso. He grimaced as he realized he was quite fat, even with his rather meager diet. A hand slapped his belly, causing it to jiggle.

"God, I need to fooking work out." He didn't really pay attention to the fact the bags under his eyes were gone and the fact he had a full grown beard which hung a little below his chin. Not that he shaved, he hardly did, but back home he didn't exactly have a full grown beard. It was more a meager nine o'clock shadow. His hair was in even worse shape, his sideburns connecting his overgrown hair with his hairy visage. As imaginable by most, the rest of his body was more or less in the same condition. Hairy and disgusting.

He paid no mind though, grabbing the wet rag soaked in the soapy basin. A sigh, and he went to work.

***********************************************************

The man felt renewed with an overwhelming freshness, the surrounding air seeming more crisp and refreshing. That is, til he realized he had no clothes to change into. He wasn't going back into his underwear, that's just filthy. He stood there for a moment, a bit awkward as we tried to figure out how to get something to cover himself in. A laugh came from the man. Of course, it's so obvious. A fucking towel.

'Oh wait...too small. Damnit.' He could do one of two things. A. Try to call out and see if Weaver had a towel he could wear, or a toga of some sorts. Or B. Go out there and cradle his dick with a rag in search of something to wear. He went with A.

"WEAVER! I need a towel!" He didn't hear anything. He yelled again.

"WEAVER?" Nothing. He opened the door slightly, then yelled again.

"GREY WEAVER!"

"YES?" a response came. Fucking finally.

"I NEED SOMETHING TO WEAR!" A scramble came from the hall as the old stallion looked for something the human could fit in. A thump was heard as something landed outside of the door.

"It's in the hall!" Grey Weaver said much more quietly, but still yelling. Fortunately, the human heard him. A hand searched about as the man knelled trying to get his clothes without exposing himself. He grasped a soft cloth like material, pulling it inside the bathroom.

The man looked at the bundle, a frown appearing on his face as he tried to realize what the hell it was. Stretching out the piece of cloth, he realized it was a toga of some sorts.

'Well...fuck. Guess it's better than going nude.' He slipped it over himself, surprising himself as it was actually pretty comfortable, although a bit revealing to him. Slipping an arm through the holes (not those holes you disgusting freak) and straightening it out so it didn't crumple so much.

"Huh." It covered the entirety of his torso, unfortunately it wasn't exactly fit for cold places, as made apparent by the fact it had no sleeves. It wasn't too unbelievable - why the hell would a pony need sleeves? The man stepped out into the living room slash dining area, immediately being pushed out the way by a certain threstral.

"Move." she said as she thundered past him. Little fucker.

"What the hell ish her deal?"

"Guess she was just in a hurry."

"Shesh got all fookin' noght, isn't like shesh gonna be late or shomething. Jeshush." The man took a seat on the couch with Weaver, the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the table and the chairs. He was glad there was a fire to heat the room up, otherwise he'd be freezing his balls off.

"Sorry I don't have anything else for you to wear, I wasn't exactly expecting any company today. Especially company as...erm, exotic as yourself." A clanging came from the bathroom. The human raised his eyebrow in question.

"She took off her armor." The human shook his head.

"I washn't ashking a queshtion. Shesh jusht very loud." the man frowned. He sighed, rubbing his head. "Fookin' hell, shesh loud."

"Well, if you don't mind me asking, how'd a peculiar stallion like yourself show up in Equestria?" Weaver had caught the man off guard, causing him to stutter.

"Erm...I'm not shure. I think I walked here...I don't know." the old stallion looked at the human, dumbfounded. The man just shrugged.

"You really aren't one to remember things, eh?" the man laid back in the soft cushions, rubbing his head with a hand.

"Ehhhh...." he moved his hand back and forth slightly. Weaver let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Heh, I'm sure everyone in town will love you. They'll be a bit odd around you at first, but they should warm up to you." the stallion said to start a conversation after his other failed attempt.

"Shure, I gueesh. How far away ish the town?"

"Forty five minutes or so. Don't worry, you'll be good by then if you get a good night's sleep." The man felt a wave of sleepiness override his senses.

"Where am I shleeping?"

"In the guest room. You and Shaded Light are going to have to share a bed, unless you want to sleep on the couch." The man grimaced. He didn't want to sleep by that fanged bastard, but he didn't want to be left freezing out in the living room. He sighed.

"I guees you gotta break eggsh to make an omelet..."

"Hmm?"

"Huh? Oh, shorry it's nothing. Gueesh I'll go shleep in the guesht room then." the man said, a bit of annoyance in his voice as he said it. He caught himself. "Nothin' you an do about it, I've jusht had enough of her to lasht a lifetime." the human lumbered up, his legs protesting as he stood. He carried himself to his room, and weakly opened the door, leaving it open. The sheets were pulled over each other invitingly, almost making the man drool at the thought of a warm, comfy bed.

He let his body fall to the will of gravity and slept.

Author's Note:

Apologies if this chapter was rather lacking, I was off visiting some family.
An honest question - what could possibly be more empty than Indiana? Oh wait, North Dakota, South Dakota, Michigan...turns out there's a lot of stuff emptier than Indiana. *cough* Fucking Montana. Every time I'd go up to Chicago to see some family, it's the worst part of the trip. I'd rather cross the DMZ of North Korea. Oh god these fucking pony names...
Ahaha... asides from matters that are quite stereotypical and of the likes, there is the matter of Christmas, or as you filthy liberals say, The Holidays. I won't lie to you all, you guys probably won't be getting any gifts from your Uncle Jerky, but don't be some glum, chum. I'll try to make it up to you guys around Easter or something, maybe offer some input on the universe that 'the man' has been raised and born in.
Also, I'd like to inform the people who criticize and comment on the story that I fucking love you guys. When you inspect or mindlessly kiss my ass, it really makes my day to see a comment. Idunno why, I just really love feedback. However, this leads to something I, Jerky, would like to ask of those who are possibly going to follow this story 'til it dies, I need a pre reader. Just message me or comment, as you all know I don't really give a damn.
As always, criticism is accepted in open arms.

Comments

[Gotland]

Ugh racist Ponies