• Published 11th Jun 2015
  • 3,482 Views, 346 Comments

Bruce Wayne, welcome to Ponyville - ultronquake

On his way back from work Filthy Rich finds an abandoned child and decides to take him. One odd thing is the child doesn't have a pony name, Bruce Wayne, the other thing is he says he's not even a pony at all.

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Chapter eight

Filthy Rich hadn't been home that night to see the accomplishments of his children. Neither of them were even awake when he finally came home at four in the morning. It had been a terrible night, first he had to stay late to do a complete inventory of the store. And just when it seemed they were done and Filthy could go home, there was an emergency phone call.

It was one of those phone calls you know is inevitable, but regardless you are never prepared for when they happen. Filthy's father had experienced a second heart attack, he was dying. It had been many years since he had spoken with Dirty Rich, their last conversation had been... unsavory. Since then Dirty had refused to even see with his son, turning him away every time.

Filthy was somewhat thankful that his father was still unconscious when he arrived at the retirement home. It made signing the release forms and other papers to get him into the hospital that much easier. There he waited by his bedside through the night, eventually he had to go. "I'm sorry but I have to leave, I have children waiting at home. Can you please notify me immediately if anything changes?" Filthy asked the late night nurse.

"Of course Mr. Rich, you'll know the second he wakes up or his condition worsens." replied the nurse.

"Thank you," replied Filthy, his voice was weary and dark bags were under his eyes. On his way out he looked back at the white building, its stuko siding reflecting the moonlight. 'It's almost pretty for such a morbid place.' Filthy thought.

He silently entered the house and made his way to the kitchen, he didn't feel like eating at all but he knew he would regret it if he went to bed on an empty stomach. Filthy opened up the refrigerator looking for some sustenance, what he did find was a large half eaten chocolate cake. 'Oh no, I didn't miss one of the kids birthdays did I?' worried Filthy.

It seems he hadn't quite as silent as he had hoped, a light in the adjoining room flicked on and Randolph appeared. "Ah, Master Rich I was waiting for your return."

"You didn't need to do that Randolph," said Filthy.

"Nonsense sir, it is my duty after all." Randolph said with a little bow. "If I may be so bold as to ask, why is sir so late on arrival?"

Filthy sighed heavily, "Dad's dying Randolph, he had another heart attack."

"It pains me greatly to hear that sir," the Butler said, his face was emotionless and unchanging.

"Yeah, me too Randolph. I need to know, did I miss something important? There's a cake in the fridge." said Filthy.

Randolph was quick to reassure him, "The cake was in celebration of mistress Tiara's exemplary grade she received on her school assignment. The young lady was very pleased that she accomplished this without your, *Hrmpf* assistance." Randolph was not so subtly referencing his employers under the table activities.

"Really? My princess got a good grade on her own?" Filthy asked in amazement.

"An A+, as it were." said Randolph.

"Well I'll be, I wish I could have been here." said Filthy.

"Mistress Tiara wished the same as well, is there anything I can get for you Master Rich?" asked Randolph.

Filthy thought it over, "A slice of that cake if you please, and a scotch on the rocks. Hold the ice though," He made his way into the dark living room, it looked like there had been a fire earlier but all the coals had died down. Filthy took his seat in the ancient armchair that once belonged to his father and his father before him.

"The items you requested sir," balanced on one hoof was a silver tray, on it was a plate with a generous slice of cake and a stout glass of well-aged whiskey.

"Thank you Randolph, just leave them on the side table. You can go on back to sleep, I'll be up for a while." Filthy said, he then unceremoniously took the cake in hoof and took a huge bite. "This is quite good, you make it yourself?"

"Naturally sir," Randolph was eyeing the little crumbs of cake that were falling onto the rug, he had great distain for those crumbs. "Very well sir, I shall retire for the night. I suggest you do so as well at some point." The butler then exited the room and turned out the light.

In his loneliness Filthy found himself in he began reflecting on the long relationship he had with his father. It had never been a happy one, Dirty Rich was never a pony to show kindness. One long forgotten memory flooded back, it was hazy and Filthy couldn't remember the context but the memory itself was clear.

'How old was I? I had just proposed to her, and she said yes. Then I went to go tell dad, what did he say?' thought Filthy.

His father's harsh words echoed in his mind, "Filthy m'boy, you can't trust hussies like her! All she wants is to get at your money, MY MONEY!"

"Here's to your money dad." said Filthy, he then took a swig of the scotch. He downed the entire glass in one go, and angrily slammed it down. 'That was a big fight, I remember how he threatened to disown me if I married her. But I showed him, we went and eloped!' Filthy remembered his rebellious youth. But even that wasn't enough to sever their relationship. No, it had been years later, on the day Diamond had been born.

"So you're not even stallion enough to make a son! And look at that she doesn't even look like a Rich, she looks more like that screwball than you!" Dirty's voice echoed.

'You don't know how much I wanted to throttle you right there dad. On the day of my little girl's birth you insinuated she was anything but perfect.' Filthy started crying, his father's inexcusably rude behavior wasn't the only bad thing he associated with Diamond's birth. Turmoil seemed to take hold of his life for a few months, it was only Randolph constantly at his side and the new foal to take care of that kept him centered.

Through the tears and effects of the alcohol filthy said, "Just wake up you old jack ass, I want you to meet your grandchildren once before you go." It was in that state that Filthy went to sleep, curled up in the armchair, his emotions like a turbid sea.

Author's Note:

Sorry if you found this situation depressing, my family's had to deal with dying old friends and family members allot, for some reason I wanted to write about it.