Three Rednecks Enter Discord's Maze

by Emerald Harp

Chapter Two

As soon as Discord disappeared, the corncobs came back to life. They began to strobe and point the way farther into the maze.

“That’s kind of pretty. It’s like a string of Christmas lights pointing the way to the electronics section of a K-Mart on Black Friday,” commented Larry. Setting his “Git-R-Done” stocking hat up-right, Larry motioned to his friends. “Come on, boys. The deals are this way.”

As the three rednecks made their way in-between the stone ponies and graves, Bill snarled to Larry and Jeff. “I hope you two are happy! We could have gotten out, but nooooo. You two jackasses basically said, ‘Discord, there aren’t nearly enough skid marks in our drawers. Can we stay in here a while longer until you find a way to scare us so badly we die of methane poising?’”

“You want some cheese to go with that bitching?” asked Foxworthy. “Think about what’s waiting for us at the end of this thing.”

“And just what is waiting for us, Jeff?” Before the Confederate could reply, Engvall interrupted. “Jack shit, that’s what we’re getting. And that’s assuming that tea-drinking Son of a Bitch decides to let us out. He’s probably taping everything we do and is gonna put it up on whatever passes for YouTube around here.”

Larry paused. “I hope he cuts out the part where I had to talk to a guy about a dog.”

“A dog?” asked Foxworthy. “A freakin’ Clydesdale more like it.”

As they argued, the three humans reached the other end of the graveyard. There was only one room beyond the pair of braziers. The maze testers slowly entered the terminus and looked around. In the center of the room were three bar stools. Sitting on top of one of the wooden chairs was a pair of shifting eyes with yellow irises. On another was a large, bloated, pulsing liver. And on the last were two twitching, blood-covered, white-furred pony ears.

Foxworthy looked at each of the bar stools. Eyes wide with terror, Jeff said in a high-pitched voice, “Boys, I think someone didn’t get the memo that magical, four-legged critter hunting is frowned on in these parts.”

Engvall gulped. “Now I’m pretty sure those things aren’t what they look like, but I say we better find another room, fast.”

Before any of the maze goers could leave, the way out was walled off by extremely fast-growing cornstalks.

Looking up at the moon, Bill shouted, “F&%#ing hell, not again! This is bull-crap, Discord. What the hell are we supposed to do in here?”

The lumberjack looked at the gyrating items that had been placed upon each of the wooden chairs. “Do we eat ‘em?”

As soon as Larry suggested this, the Confederate turned three shades greener. “You won’t eat a light-bright corncob, but you’ll eat a spassing dismembered pony part? Are you Paul Bunyan or his reanimated corpse?”

Larry shrugged. “Just throwing that out there. Besides this is Discord’s maze. All three of these things could taste like a Butterfinger dipped in whipped cream with a cherry on top.” The fat human started to salivate at the thought. “Ya never know. Also, I don’t like corn on the cob; it gets stuck in my teeth.”

Jeff stared at his friend. “50 bits. I swear to God I will give you 50 bits right now if you eat those twitching googely eyes over there on that bench.”

Ignoring his fellow maze runners, Bill grasped his broken rifle and circled the three barstools, giving them a wide birth. He stopped in front of the stool that freaked him out the least. Hesitantly the redneck leaned over and gingerly probed one of the twitching ears with his rifle barrel.

“Why do you get to choose which one I . . .” there was a whooshing sound that caught the Cable Guy’s attention. “Hey, where’d Bill go?”

“Don’t know. It’s the damndest thing. One second Engvall was poking the ears with his cheap-ass gun, and the next he and the barstool were gone.”

Larry chewed on this information for a few moments. “So, what do we do now?”

Foxworthy stroked his mustache. “Okay, we’re freaking trapped in here. Bill touched something gross and disappeared. There are two gross things left which means there’s one for each of us. So we got four choices.”

The lumber jack frowned. “How do ya figure?”

“We either dig, climb, wait, or finger something really nasty.”

Larry looked up at the cornstalks that were as high as skyscrapers and then down at the hard Equestrian earth. “All of them choices suck gopher balls.”

The Confederate nodded. “I know. There ain’t any shovels, I’m scared of heights, and I get bored pretty dang quick. So here’s what I’m thinking. We touch the diseased liver at the same time. That way we can get out of here together.”

The Cable Guy scratched his beard. “I suppose I’ve fingered worse things in my time. Alright let’s do this.”

The remaining rednecks positioned themselves on either side of the pulsing organ. Hands sweating in anticipation, Jeff licked his lips and said, “Okay, on three. One, two, three.”

Both of the maze goers lunged forward. To the Confederate’s surprise, it was he who went sprawling through Larry’s afterimage and onto the ground. After dusting himself off he looked at the last stool with the unblinking yellow eyes. “Well shit,” he muttered as he took out his plastic revolver. Like a man condemned to the gallows, he walked over to the stool and poked one of the eyes with his toy guns.

“Ow!”

“Jesus!” Foxworthy recoiled in surprise. Before him stood not the barstool but the pony that possessed the same yellow eyes that had been staring at him moments before. The grey furred equine was garbed in a shabby Wonderbolt costume.

“Naw, my name’s Derpy. It’s nice to meet ya, whoman.” The pegasus looked around at her surroundings. “It looks like you’re my partner.”

After taking a deep breath to steady himself Jeff held out his hand. “Jeff Foxworthy.” After the introductions were made, the human glanced around too. They were no longer in the man-trap but in a different part of the maze, a part with several routes to choose from. “What are you doing here? I thought this was a two-legged redneck sausage fest. How did Discord rope you into this?”

“Uhhh . . . the last thing I remember me, Vinyl Scratch, and Berry Punch were all getting trophies for being this year’s apple-bobbing champions.” Derpy smiled proudly. “I got first . . . or was it last. I forget. Anyway, Discord showed up and said since we were so good at finding things, would we be interested in finding three lost whomans and guiding them through his maze? Whoever leads their whoman out first gets one wish. It sounded like fun, so I said yes. Berry hiccupped and collapsed and Vinyl just nodded her head, but she always does that when she has her headphones on. Then Discord snapped his talons and here we are.” The pony frowned. “Hey, why were you poking me in the eye a second ago?”

Jeff blinked at the pony. “I take it you don’t remember being turned into a chair?”

The pegasus thought for a few seconds before saying, “Nope. But one time I hit my head so hard I lost my sight and thought I was an ironing board for a whole week. Does that count?”

“No, but it does explain a few things,” the Confederate replied while looking at Derpy’s off-kilter eyes. “Hey, you got wings. Why don’t you fly up there and reconnoiter the area.”

Derpy gave the human a strange look. “Reco what?”

Foxworthy sighed. “It means look around up there.”

The pegasus hesitated.

“What’s wrong? You’re in a Wonder Bolt costume. That means you like to fly, right?”

“Discord told me not to fly, Vinyl not to use her magic, and Berry not to get too hammered. He said he wanted this to be a fair race.”

“Ah,” Jeff replied in understanding. He looked up and imagined Derpy flying up in the air lifting him over the cornstalks. He then imagined Discord with an enormous 12 gauge shooting down Derpy like a clay pigeon. The redneck shuttered. “We’d better do what the bast---, I mean what Discord says.”

“I got a map though,” said the cheerful pretend Wonderbolt.

Foxworthy’s eyebrows rose. “You do?”

“Yeah . . . at least that’s what it says it is.” From an unseen pocket, Derpy pulled out a small, folded up piece of paper that had “Map” scrawled in ink on the top fold. The pony began to unfold it.

To the Confederate’s surprise, the pony kept unfolding it, and unfolding it, and unfolding it until the small parchment had grown to be twice the size of a full-grown man and still she wasn’t done. “Holy cow, how big is this thing?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen this much paper before, and I work in a post-office.”

Meanwhile:

Larry looked down at the sprawling map and scratched the back of his neck. “Berry, this map makes as much sense as an ejector seat on a helicopter. I mean we’re here . . . maybe, and we need to get . . . damned if I know. What do you think?”

The inebriated pony looked down at the map and vomited the contents of her stomach onto the parchment.

The redneck rubbed his eyes in disgust. “Well, that just happened.” He then began to wipe his shoes off in the grass.

“Sorry, uh . . . sorry Bernie. I’ll clean that up.”

“What the hell did you do all day, suck dry a fire hydrant full of booze? This map is bigger than I am, and you’ve covered it in chum.”

The earth pony smiled lazily at the fat human. “Don’t act you’re not impressed.”

“Honey, I’m a redneck. Of course I’m impressed. But since that thing wasn’t laminated, we’re kind of screwed.”

“I know which way is up, uh, I mean out,” replied the tipsy equine.

Larry eyed the pony for a moment, not believing a word of what she just said. He then shrugged and said, “Ah, what the heck? We can’t get any more lost, right?”

The Cable Guy followed the inebriated earth pony down the winding halls of the maze. On more than one occasion the intoxicated mare doubled back and chose a different direction. Eventually they found themselves walking down a path where twenty men could march shoulder to shoulder. Larry took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll give ya this much, Berry. If someone was following us, we’ve confused the hell out of ‘em.”

“Hic, thanks Terry.”

Larry rolled his eyes. Ever since they’d met, the mare had never gotten his name right. “So how were things in town? Had Princess Luna shown up yet?”

“Naw, she comes in the middle of the party and puts everypony else to shame at the party games. I’ve seen her before, but I’ve never talked to her.”

“Why not? She’s pretty cool. I mean when me, Jeff, and Bill had that Tantibus thing in our skulls, she was the first to jump inside our heads to get that thing out. You should meet her. I’ll introduce you and say how great you are at barfing on maps.”

Berry Punch laughed until she started to cough. “Thanks, but no thanks. She wouldn’t want to talk to a drunk like me. I mean all I do is stomp on grapes for a living to make wine which I then proceed to drink.”

The redneck scoffed. “Sweetheart, that job is nothing to be ashamed of. You could be a Chinese munitions tester sitting on a chair while a conveyor brings ya artillery shells you gotta smack with a hammer to make sure they don’t explode when someone sneezes on them.” Larry smiled. “Whenever I’m down or depressed, I think of that, and I cheer right up. Works every time, swear to God.”

The pony looked at the human strangely. “Sweet Celestia. Is that a real job?”

The pretend lumberjack was about to reply when he heard the familiar sound of their way of retreat being cut off. Sure enough, when the pair looked over their shoulders, it was nothing but cornstalks and glowing corncobs. Moments later the ground began to tremble as something enormous was slowly making its way towards the two maze-runners.

Larry’s mouth went dry as the terrible quaking got worse. Feeling a tapping on his arm, the human looked down to see Berry offering him a flask. With sweaty hands Larry took the metal container, unscrewed the top, and took a deep pull. The drink was sweeter than grape juice but burned worse than whiskey. The human coughed and wiped his eyes. “Much obliged. Whew, that’s the bottom of the barrel stuff right there, ain’t it?”

Wordlessly, the pony took a swig. She didn’t even blink. Dryly she replied, “Hic, now all we need is a blindfold and a cigarette, and we’re ready to go.”

The pair waited until a gargantuan creature came into view. It towered over the human and pony, standing half as tall as the cornstalks. It had the body of a lion, the wings of a pegasus, and the face of a man. Strangely, the beast had a friendly voice. “Hi there,” it said.

Weakly, Larry croaked out a strained, “Howdy. H-how ya d-doin big fella?”

Berry looked up at the sphinx and belched.

The sphinx smiled. “I am doing quite well, thank you very much. I’d introduce myself properly, but if I were to say my true name, your brains would liquefy and run out your ear canals. So for our purposes you can refer to me as Samuel.”

The human nodded. “Can I call ya Sam?”

“You may not,” Samuel replied politely. “My name is Samuel, and you have trespassed into my dominion.”

“Your domain is a section of cornmaze?” asked Berry.

“Yes. Does this trouble you, little one?” the beast asked in an annoyed tone.

Larry immediately shook his head. Berry, however, replied, “Yeah. What the hay are you doing here? You’re setting your sights a little low, aren’t ya?” The pony took another pull from her flask. “What happened? Did Discord say your sphinx name backwards and now you’re his bitch?”

Samuel’s eyes narrowed.

Sensing the tension in the air, Larry smiled nervously and whispered through clenched teeth. “Berry, I don’t know what the booze is telling ya, but I’d shut the f*#k up about now if I was you.”

The sphinx glared down at the duo and said in a menacing tone, “What is greater than life but more terrifying then death? The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it you die?”

The human cowered as the sphinx spoke. When the creature was done Larry opened his eyes and realized he was still alive. Trying to look as composed as possible, the redneck cleared his throat and asked, “Uh, Mr. Samuel, sir. What was all that about just now?”

“That was your riddle, mortal. If you answer it correctly, I’ll let you leave. If you don’t . . .” The sphinx’s laugh rumbled through the maze. “Well, I’ll just let you use your imagination.”

Larry fought down the powerful urge to cry in front of the behemoth. “H-how m-many guesses do we get?”

“You have one minute to give me your answer, and you only get one attempt.” Samuel glared at the earth pony. “And I hope you fail.”

Berry grinned up at the Sphinx. “Hey, Sammy. I got your answer right here.”

Before the pony could do anything she would regret, Larry grabbed the pony and pulled her to the side. “Damn it, Berry!” the lumberjack hissed at his partner. “He’s probably not supposed to eat us, but he sure as hell will if you piss him off enough.”

“The clock is ticking,” declared the sphinx.

Larry fought down the panic that gripped him. He turned the riddle over and over in his head, but each potential answer he came up with was worse than the last. “Berry, unless you have something better, I’m going to say ‘rat poison’ is the answer.”

The pony shrugged, and with words slurred by alcohol, she replied, “Sounds good, Fairy. I got nothing.”

The redneck froze. It was like someone switched on a million watt light bulb over his head. “That’s it! Oh, sweet Jesus. That’s the answer. Berry, I freakin love you. You’re a mother bucking genius!”

Berry hiccupped. “I know it. But it’s nice to be told.”

Turning to Samuel, Larry shouted the answer. “Nothing. Nothing is the answer.”

The sphinx’s face contorted in anger. “That is correct.” Samuel practically spat the words. “Get out of my sight.”

Berry laughed drunkenly as she danced down the broad maze path.

The human quietly followed after his companion when the Sphinx said, “Human.”

Larry froze in mid-step and turned to face the sphinx.

“I envy you not, for the place you are going is the labyrinth of lies. It is the place where all roads in the maze eventually lead. For the respect you have shown me, I will give you three pieces of advice. Don’t drink the milk, don’t fall asleep, and most important of all, don’t pet the flaming canine.”

The pretend lumberjack blinked. “Is that last one a metaphor or a real thing?”

“Yes.” And with that the sphinx closed his eyes and blew away like dust in the wind.

Meanwhile:

Bill Engvall closed his eyes and muttered, “Okay, its east, east, north, north, east, south, west, west, west, north. Is that right, Vinyl?”

Hearing no reply, the John Wayne impersonator looked over to the blue mane unicorn wearing sunglasses. The pony had her headphones on and was nodding along to her terrible music.

Engvall bit back a swear word. He walked over and tapped the pony on the shoulder.

The D.J. looked up at the redneck and asked, “What’s sup dude?”

“Did ya hear what I just asked?”

“Negatory, dude. I was listing to my jams. Did ya want to try these babies on?” The unicorn offered the human her headphones.

Bill cringed. He could hear the dubstep from those headphones a mile away. “No, thanks. I’m allergic. It’ll make me break out. I’m trying to remember the way out of the maze without looking at that stupid freakin map. Now if I remember, it’s east, east, north, north, east, south,. . .”

“Dude, dude, dude,” Vinyl said gently interrupting the human. “You need to seriously chilllax, man. I mean it’s Nightmare Night, and we’re in Discord’s, The Discord’s cornmaze. How cool is that?”

“It’d be a lot more cool if I knew for certain that I’ll come out of here not in a pine box. I mean, I’m not exactly a spring chicken here. When you get to be my age, your priorities change a little, like finding out how many pills you need to eat to keep your vitals happy, and knowing where the nearest porta potty is.”

The D.J. levitated her sunglasses off her face and took a good look at the human for the first time. “Jeez, you are old, aren’t ya?” She grinned and asked, “What the hay are you doing here then? This maze isn’t exactly for foals or geezers.”

“Believe me, I’m wondering that myself. Does the Ponyville hospital do cat-scans?”

Vinyl Scratch laughed. “Just stick with me, dude. We’ll be out of this maze quicker than an eighth note through a sound bar. But until then just sit back and enjoy the ride and think about that sweet prize waitin for ya at the finish line. By the way, what did you ask Discord for? I told him I wanted a . . .”

At this point, one of the D.J’s hooves sank deep into the ground. Before Bill could ask if she was alright, the pair heard a metallic clicking noise below the Equestrian earth.

“What’s that noise?” the pony asked.

Engvall gulped nervously. He could feel and hear whatever Vinyl had stepped on activate a system of pulleys, levers, and wheels underground. Before he could answer, a wooden unicorn that looked like a nightmarish version of Twilight Sparkle slowly wheeled out from the cornstalks.

As the construct advanced, Bill said slowly, “Now would be a good time to shoot that thing.”

“Hate to break this to ya, dude, but I can’t do that kind of magic. Besides, Discord told us not to.”

“To Hell with Discord!” shouted Bill. “What do ya think th--"

Before he could finish his sentence, the twisted mockery of Twilight shot a beam of magic at the D.J. with its wooden horn.

The cowboy was the first to act. As fast as he could, Bill shoved Vinyl off of the pressure plate, sending her tumbling into the cornstalks.

Engvall braced himself, but the pain never came. The beam’s impact was so mild, it was like someone bounced a beach ball off his gut. The redneck opened his eyes and sighed in relief after seeing that he was still whole. When he inhaled, he noticed he was covered in a light-purple dust that tasted strange and made his eyes water. Shaking his head, Bill called “Vinyl, hey Vinyl. You okay?”

The pony emerged from the corn-wall. Her mane was messed up and her sun-glasses were askew, but other than that, she looked no worse for wear. “Yeah, Dude. I’m fine. Thanks for the save. For a fat, old guy you sure move fast.”

“Gee thanks,” Bill replied dryly. As he wiped the dust off of his costume, he glared at his wooden attacker. The splintery pony just stood there on its wheels looking devilishly at the pair. Slowly, the two made their way to the booby trapped scarecrow. Bill could now see the barely visible rope that had wheeled the enchanted doll out from the corn forest.

Vinyl poked it with her hoof and the construct promptly tipped over. “What the hay was this thing supposed to do? Shoot glitter at us?”

Engvall would have replied, but his eyes were irritating him badly. He looked down at the wooden pony through his watery eyes. The nightmarish equine seemed to be smiling back up at him. Bill blinked, and to his horror the oaken pony’s face was full of teeth and looked as if it was trying to bite him. Recoiling in surprise, the human brought down his boot on the pony’s wooden head. To the pretend cowboy, it did not feel like he was stomping on a hollow oaken doll but a real pony skull.

“Hey, hey, dude. Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Bill dropped his rifle and wiped his burning eyes on his sleeve. “Did you see that? That damn thing tried to bite my foot off.”

Vinyl paused for a moment. She had not expected him to say that. “Uh, no, that thing looks pretty still to me.”

“What?!” Bill shouted taking his sleeve away from his face. “How could you n--” The human’s words died in his throat. Bill was so shocked by what he was seeing, he had to do a double take.

“Dude, what’s wrong? You’re acting weird.”

For a response, Bill screamed in the pony’s face and took off through the maze, running as fast as he could.

“Dude! Dude, come back!” Vinyl shouted after her fleeing partner as she took off after him.

Engvall looked at his purser and shrieked. Gone was Vinyl Scratch and in her place was this grotesque white and blue furred monster. Bill was used to seeing strange things in Equstria, but never before had he seen anything this horrifying. Adrenaline pouring through his veins, Bill ran like he’d never run before.