Derpy Delivers Your Nightstand (Brumby_Run)
Derpy Delivers Your Nightstand
Brumby_Run
Despite the fact that this is yet another Monday, despite your lousy retail job, even despite your local Panda Express being closed for renovations, you are in a fantastic mood. You have had a most carthic weekend.
You spent the two days destroying your bed.
Every tool of destruction you could lay your hand on was brought to bear. A pilfered boxcutter from your employer’s stock room sliced the mattress cover in a most satisfying way. Wire cutters made short work of the springs. An axe worked over the bed frame, but you swapped it for a chainsaw to do the headboard.
You have no idea where the oxyacetylene torch came from, but using it was so much fun.
The end result was that there was no piece larger than a dime left. Your backyard now contains a small pile of rubble, and your bedroom has a bare patch of carpet. The thought brings a smile to your face as you point your Toyota up your driveway.
You ordered a new bed, and it is due to be delivered today.
Bounding up the stairs, you joyfully skip through your door. You have no idea how long it has been since you felt this good. Your smile is causing your face to ache. It’s a nice kind of hurt.
“Delivery!” A distinctly equine voice calls from your bedroom. Your mood shatters instantly.
“No, no, no, no, no,” you mutter. “No ponies. There can’t be ponies. I killed the bed. How can I still have ponies?”
Opening the door a crack, you peer around the doorjam. There she is, a pony. Pegasus wings tucked at her sides. Grey coat and feathers, blond mane and tail. Golden eyes, slightly askew. Bubbles on her flank. A small box at her side.
“Hi,” she calls brightly. “I’ve got a delivery for you.” You are not sure if she is actually looking at you.
“Delivery? I’m not expecting anything from pony-world. You can take it back now. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“No, I’ve got the nightstand you ordered,” she says.
“I didn’t order a nightstand. I ordered a bed,” you correct her gently. “I ordered it from Amazon.”
“Ah, I see the confusion. You ordered from AmazeCon. It’s run by two brothers back in Equestria.” She waves the delivery docket at you.
“Are you saying that the Flim Flam brothers are running a transdimensional phishing scam?” you ask in disbelief.
“You know the Flim Flam brothers?”
“We’ve met,” you state flatly as you walk into your bedroom.
“Well, I don’t know what the rest of what you said means, but their motto is ‘We’re amazed they haven’t figured out this is a con!’ They sell all sorts of stuff. But you already know that. You bought a nightstand."
"No," you correct, "I ordered a bed. I've got a nightstand."
“You have? Where?” She asks, her head swinging wildly as she scans the room.
“Here.” You kneel down beside the masterpiece of improvised furniture, patting it gently.
“That? I thought it was junk. It looks like junk to me.”
You briefly consider several witty retorts, but dismiss them all. You’re not enough of an arsehole to mock someone’s disability. Or even somepony’s disability. “This collection of up-cycled materials has served me well since my college days,” you proudly state.
“Up-cycled? Isn’t that how Pinkie Pie gets her flying machine off the ground?”
“Err... No. Up-cycling is a bit like recycling, only better. With recycling you get more of the same product. When you up-cycle, you take something old and create something new,” you explain. “It’s a pretty big concept in the Maker community.”
“Something old, to make something new,” she repeats. “So, it was junk, but it’s not anymore?”
“Close enough,” you say, giving up.
“So, what was that stuff before you up-cycled it?” She asks in the tone of a service provider humouring a difficult customer.
“At the bottom are two cinder blocks. They are just to get the height I require. On top of that is a milk crate. The genius part is that it’s resting on its side, allowing easy access to store stuff in it. Finally, on top is a piece of plywood. A level surface for anything I might need to put on a nightstand.” You demonstrate by laying your cellphone next to your alarm clock. “See?”
“Yeah,” she says dubiously. “In any case, I’ve got the real nightstand that you ordered. You can down-cycle that stuff back to junk now.”
“Look, I work retail,” you try to sympathize. “I don’t want to be that kind of customer. But I can assure you, I ordered a bed, not a nightstand.”
“No,” she says confidently. “I’ve already delivered the only bed I had for this run.”
“Ah-ha!” You shout in triumph.
“A very nice woman. Her ordinary bed had been replaced by a magical talking bed, that was in no possible way a changeling queen in disguise. A group of sentient throw pillows later abducted the magical talking bed, and most certainly did not take it back to a changeling hive. She was very appreciative when I showed up with an ordinary box spring.”
“I find that very hard to believe,” you state.
“All I’ve got for you is a nightstand. If you don’t want it, you should take that up with my boss.”
“Look, what I want...” You decide to stand, using your height to intimidate the delivery pony. You brace your weight against your improvised nightstand.
The plywood top-board flips, whacking you in the forehead.
Your alarm clock makes a loud sounding crash as it hits the floor.
Your cellphone makes an expensive sounding crash as it hits the wall.
As you fall back, your left leg kicks your foot against one of the cinder blocks.
This unbalanced the milk crate, causing it to tip and fall on your right ankle.
“Are you okay?” the delivery mare asks.
You take a few seconds to pull out the splinter that the plywood left in the webbing between your thumb and forefinger before answering. “I’ll sign for that nightstand now...”
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That's gotta hurt. Hope you can stand it for the night!
5599591 Flet Albania non est. Flet in omnibus allis linguis flat intelligit.
Wow. He goes through all that trouble to destroy his bed once and for all and still he gets fooled by the curse. Wonderful job.
Ah, so that's why beds weren't mentioned in the chapter title! There wasn't a bed left to mention! Bravo, Brumby_Run! Bravo!
5600490 [youtube=youtube.com/watch?v=2uQ76qrlK78]
5600508
Bro, do you even semantic drift?
5600717 Well of course I knew what you meant. I was just making sure you knew what you meant.
I've taken to studying the Albanian language. --I plan to implement it in a story of mine.
I wonder how long before he starts waving a bat.
What does this word mean? I couldn't find any explanation or translation for it.
“Are you saying that the Flim Flam brothers are running a transdimensional phishing scam?”
Yes. Yes. Yes...
You, Sir, mady my day.
5601823 Cathartic is the adjectival form of catharsis. Looks like a misspelling slipped through. Sorry. Wikipedia link.
It seems Derpy's entropic aura has expanded somewhat.
5601439
I'm part of my high school's journalism team.
My beat (or section that I regularly do, for the uninitiated) is a pun column.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA.
5601566
Gentle mental man.
5600736 Interesting. Why the Albanian language in particular? And I'm studying Latin, mostly for the fun of it but also simply because of the antiquity in a good way.
5604670
Two reasons:
1. Albanian constitutes its own branch in the Indo-European language family.
2. There is no Albanian dub for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
Oh gods, I can't breathe
Owww
At least it wasn't the shin
Remarks and corrections:
> carthic
Well, as you already pointed out, this should be "cathartic".
> “You have? Where?” She asks
Shouldn't have a capital letter on "she"
I swear if there was a third brother we'd have a dead ringer for the equestrian version of hat films
One-night-stand joke set aside out of respect for Derpy. Instead, I will now happily imagine Flim and Flam being boiled down for glue, which will then be used in the assembly of a new bed.
Snrk, good job with the nightstand.
Love the mention of Chryssie, good to hear she's been returned to the hive.