Fool's Paradise

by Chapter 13

Part: 1

Fool's Paradise
By: Rumble, Chapter: 13, Typoglyphic.

Remember when you were young and wanted to be a doctor or a superhero when you grew up—some huge dream that you were sure you could achieve? Then, when you got older, you began to realize just how unlikely some dreams are. Things change, life gets in the way, and that dream slips further and further from your grasp until it’s nothing more than a distant memory.

There are some ponies who go to extreme lengths to make those old dreams reality. They get so close to that dream that until they can almost touch it. In that last moment, there’s nothing they won’t do in order to grab it.

Sometimes, they’ll grab it and hold on for dear life. Other times, they’ll miss, and plummet into the abyss.

***

Lightning Dust snapped out her sore legs and gave the mass of cloud below her a solid kick, bursting it apart. “Seven more of these clouds, then I’m out,” she mumbled to herself as she set off toward the next one. “For buck’s sake, nopony said cloud kicking would be this annoying.”

Her leg twinged as she dispersed it, and she took a moment to stretch and relax the muscle. Cloud kicking was always painful exercise. Well, when she showed up for work in the first place.

“Lightning Dust!”

She looked over her shoulder at the steel-grey mare shouting her name, then forced back a groan. It was Nirvana. Lightning really didn’t have the energy to deal with her boss today.

“Get over here, I need to talk with you real quick!”

There were several other weather ponies on duty, cleaning up from the morning storm, and Lightning did her best to not bump into any of them as she flew toward the cloud Nirvana was sitting on. Her co-workers somehow seemed to enjoy their jobs, though she supposed that mediocre flyers like them could get used to the monotony. The thought soured her mood even further.

Lightning forced a smile as she glided to a stop next to her boss. “Hey, Nirvana. You called?” She did her best to keep the snark out of her voice. Nirvana smiled. It was the smile of a friend with bad news. Lightning swallowed. She wasn’t looking forward to this.

“I noticed you were a bit late today,” Nirvana began casually. “Is everything going alright?”

Lightning ground her hoof into the cloud beneath to keep it from finding its way to her own face. Of course. Why had she expected anything else? “Look, Nirvana, I’m fine. And I’m sorry that—”

“Lightning,” Nirvana interrupted, shaking her head, “I know you’re going through a rough patch, and I’ve cut you some slack, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep you around.” Lightning opened her mouth to respond, but Nirvana kept going. “You can’t just skip your shifts. It’s not fair that everyone else has to fill in for you all the time.”

Lightning sighed. “I know, and I… I’ll try to do better.”

Nirvana winced. “Sorry, Lightning, but we need to talk about some… changes to our weather team.”

“Wait, what?” Lightning jolted in place. “What do you mean? Since when?”

The placating smile on Nirvana’s face faltered slightly. “Don’t worry! We’re just restructuring the team a bit. I’m not firing you. You’re just being moved over to the Cloud Pushers, just to shore up their win count and—”

“Cloud Pushing?” She hadn’t meant to interrupt her manager, but she couldn’t keep the words down. “Why can’t I stay on Cloud Kicking? I do my job!”

“That you do, Lightning. Well, when you show up in the first place, that is.” She reached out with one wing and rested it on Lightning’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Cloud Pushing is just as challenging as kicking. You’ll see.”

Yeah, right. As if any job on the weather team could really be considered challenging. She shifted, letting Nirvana’s wing fall from her shoulder. “Boss, please be honest with me. If you’re demoting me ‘cause I’m late sometimes, then just say it.”

Nirvana sighed. “Fine. I’m demoting you because you’re almost never here.” She gave Lightning a sad look. “I like you, Lightning. You work hard, and I know you’re a good pony. If you start showing up on time—if you prove that you can be reliable—then I’d be thrilled to put you back on Cloud Kicking.”

Lightning Dust felt something stir inside her. “And if I prove myself, do you think I could be promoted again?” Nirvana froze. “You know, to Lightning Wrangler, maybe?”

“Uhhh…” Nirvana looked side to side, avoiding Lightning’s eyes. “Well, um…”

Lightning dropped her gaze and stared at the fluffy cloud beneath them. “Right. Never mind.” It always came back to that damn tornado.

An awkward silence stretched between them. Way to derail the conversation, Lightning.
Nirvana looked like she was trying to think of something to say, but Lightning honestly couldn’t be bothered.

A few of their co-workers flew by. “See you tomorrow!” one called.

Nirvana seized the opportunity. “Heh, looks like I accidentally took up the rest of your shift. I’ll see you tomorrow. On time, right?” She winked.

Lightning offered a half-hearted nod and spread her wings, crouching for taking off.

Right as she was about to jump into the air, Nirvana spoke. “Lightning…”

The air tickled at Lightning Dust’s wings. She looked back up at her manager.

“If you need help… you know you can ask, right?”

Lightning dove off the cloud, shooting away as fast as she could so that she wouldn’t have to look at the pitying expression on Nirvana’s face.

The evening skies above Fillydelphia were warm and welcoming. There was no shortage of light despite the setting sun thanks to the glow of the thousands of streetlights and signs in the city below. She itched to pour on the speed, to leave the city behind. Instead, she dipped below the cloud cover and slowed, falling into line with the crowds of other pegasi that filled the lower atmosphere. She knew the grinding routine of this city like the back of her hoof. Her family had moved here when she was just a filly, and, as much as she wanted to get a fresh start, she had never been able to truly escape the first city she’d ever called home.

She rounded a towering skyscraper and angled herself down toward the crumbling lower district of the city, eventually touching down in front of her building and trudging up the three flights of stairs that led to her apartment. She nudged an empty plant pot that sat next to the paint-stripped door—she wasn’t sure if it had ever held a living plant—and fished her key out from under it.

At first glance, her living room didn’t look like much. A second glance didn’t help matters. A couch sat in the middle behind a coffee table covered in dust and half-empty beer cans. She flopped onto the couch and stared at the off-white ceiling. Home sweet home. At least it had hot water and electricity, and that was really all she needed. Which was good, since it was just about all she could afford.

She winced. Right. Those could soon be luxuries of the past. Cloud Pushers made quite a bit less than Cloud Kickers. Of course, neither made as much as a Lightning Wrangler. Or a Wonderb—

Crack!

She slammed a hoof onto the coffee table beside her and shook her head, taking a few deep breaths.

She needed a drink. She groped around the table blindly, feeling for a can with some liquid still in it. After knocking over half a dozen empties, she found a winner.

“Score,” she muttered, bringing the cheap can to her lips. She downed the warm beer and cringed. “Eugh, dear Celestia.” She shivered in disgust. Warm, tepid beer. She rolled onto her back and looked back at the ceiling.

A few long, tortuous minutes passed.

“Screw it.” Lightning sprang off the couch. She needed some proper beer. Now. Maybe even something stronger. She scooped up some bits from a dish on the coffee table and stumbled to the door.

***

The local bar wasn’t far from her apartment, and it happened to be her favorite dive in the city. The Stumbling Stallion was right on the coast, and too subdued for most tourists to bother peaking inside. A bar for Fillydelphians. One of the city’s little secrets. It wasn’t special or unique. It was just the Stumbling Stallion. A neon ‘open’ sign glowed in one of the small porthole windows by the heavy wooden door.

Lightning folded her wings and poked her head into the tavern. Empty tables and stools filled the room. There were a few ponies sitting quietly by themselves toward the outside of the room, and the only other occupant was sitting behind the bar, slowly wiping a wine glass. Ahh. Quiet. Just as she liked it. She trotted up to the bar and raised an eyebrow at the bartender.

“Ever thought about investing in a dishwasher?” she asked with a smirk.

The stallion chuckled, still rubbing at the glass. “Hell no, Lightning. Can you imagine what ol’ Rusty would do to me if I tried to replace him with a machine?”

“You’re damn right!” somepony shouted from behind a wall of assorted spirits.

Lightning forced a giggle. “Stanley, promise me you’ll never let this place change?”

The stallion nodded with a smile as he set the glass back down, then turned to the mare. “Well, that’s a promise I’m happy to keep,” he began, gesturing to the wall behind him, “What’s your fancy?”

Lightning eyed the vast selection. Stanley always somehow managed to stock good spirits at ridiculously low prices. She knew better than to ask how or why.

“Meh,” she shrugged. “Just the usual.”

Stanley nodded and spun away, grabbing a few bottles and a glass. He mixed them together and slid the glass in front of her in seconds. Nopony could deny that Stanley was good at his job. “Anything else you were needin’?”

“Nah, this should be it, for now. Thanks.”

Stanley nodded. “Okay, just holler when you need a refill.” He scooped up his perpetually dirty wine glass and left the bar for the backroom.

Lightning propped herself up with a foreleg and lifted the amber-filled glass to her mouth. Perfect as always. She let the drink's warmth fill her. It was as good as the rush of flight, really. Maybe better. She nursed her drink, letting the world wash away for a few minutes.

She raised the glass to her lips, then paused. Huh, empty already.

“Hit me.”

Another sip. More followed. Another glass. She was vaguely aware of patrons leaving, the bar slowly emptying around her.

“Hit me.”

This one seemed duller. Stanley was overdoing it with the mixer. Oh well. She’d just have to drink a few more than usual.

“Hit me.”

Help me…

Comments

[RarityEQM]

This is amazing!! Well written!! Bravo! Have a Thumbs up and a like, and even a follow! <3