The Alleys of Ponyville: Short Stories from the Noireverse

by PonyJosiah13

The Q Word

“Thanks, Marcus,” Flash said, taking his double carrot dog from the burro’s hooves.

“You cops keep my business alive, officer,” Marcus grinned at him, placing another dog into the food cart’s grill. “My pleasure to provide some fuel for Ponyville’s finest.”

Flash waved at him with a wing as he trotted back up the park pathway, passing a late-evening jogger and a couple sitting on a bench, forelegs wrapped about each other as they admired the stars. Prowl and Bumblebee were both waiting for him at the end of the path, standing beneath an arch of oak branches that glowed ethereally in the light of the setting sun.

“Like I said, best damn grill in the city,” Bumblebee said, munching down on his hayburger and licking mustard from his lips. “I hope Marcus never dies.”

Prowl took the last bite of her dog and finished it off with a honey-glazed cricket chaser, the bug crunching loudly as she chewed. “I know Maple will be wishing that I was eating more regularly,” she lamented.

“Part of the cop life, Prowl,” Bumblebee grinned.

Prowl smirked a bit. “Yeah. Where would we be without fast food, disposable coffee cups, and food carts?”

Flash sighed happily and looked up at the stars. “You know, I could get used to second shift. It’s been awful qui—”

“Shhhh!” Prowl and Bumblebee both hissed, causing Flash to nearly jump out of his skin.

“What?” he cried.

“Never say the Q word!” Prowl snapped through her fangs.

Flash stared at them for a beat, then blinked slowly. “You can’t be serious,” he scoffed. “It’s a superstition.”

“I thought it was, too,” Prowl said quietly. “Back when I was a fresh rookie. Right up until I told my sergeant that it was a q night.” She paused for a beat, frowning heavily. “And then we got the call about the urine balloon pranks.”

“The what?” Flash asked.

“Bunch of college kids thought it’d be a good idea to run around town, throwing piss balloons at ponies,” Prowl grumbled, chomping down on another cricket. “Piss and other things. By the time we rounded all of them up, I was soaked. Smell didn’t come out of my mane for a week and I had to pay for a new uniform.”

“For me, it was the Great Pigeon Gang,” Bumblebee said, giving the title proper emphasis in his speech. “Told my partner that it was great to have a q evening like this. Next thing I know, we’re running around chasing a group of trained pigeons that some thief was using to snatch up ponies’ wallets.” He shuddered. “I got pooped on in places I never thought I’d get pooped on.”

Flash blinked at his partners. “You’re serious?” he asked as they passed a couple out for a walk. The mare and stallion gave the officers bewildered stares as they passed, mouths inverted in contemplative frowns as they tried to process what they had just overheard.

“You’ve seen some of the weird shit we get ourselves into already, Flash,” Prowl said. “There’s a reason why these superstitions exist.”

“You know that those things would’ve happened regardless of whether or not you said ‘qui–’”

“NO!” Bee and Prowl shouted as one.

“Fine. Whether or not you said the q word,” Flash rolled his eyes.

“Maybe,” Bumblebee shrugged. “But I figure, why push my luck?”

“Agreed,” Prowl nodded as they continued up the sidewalk. The evening was still and calm; the only other ponies they saw on their beat walked past in a calm, languid pace, a few nodding to them.

A dark brown jenny with a gray mane waited at a crosswalk ahead, leaning on a cane and watching the cars speeding past with a concerned brow. Flash sped up a bit and offered her his foreleg.

“Oh, thank you, young stallion,” she said with a smile, taking it with one hoof and allowing him to escort her across the street, cars halting to allow them to pass. “So nice of you to take time from your busy life to help me.”

“No trouble at all, ma’am,” Flash nodded as they reached the other side of the street. “It’s a nice quiet night.”

The word slipped out of his mouth before he even registered its presence, and he noticed it as it slipped out of his lips. The brief pause was quickly washed away by self-chastisement, and Flash snorted to himself at his own ridiculousness. Maybe he was spending too much time with Prowl and Bee…

And then his radio crackled to life. “Any units, 10-54 at Fifth Street Bank. Witnesses report a flock of chickens is running loose in the bank lobby…”

Flash stared at his radio, then turned back and faced his two partners. Both Prowl and Bumblebee shook their heads at him, annoyance set deep in their eyes.

“Nice work, Flash,” Prowl sighed. “Nice work.”

Author's Note:

Even long after my stint in corrections, I still get the urge to knock wood after I hear someone say the q-word. You just don't say it. You don't.

Comments

[Shadow_Wolf]

Yeah.... NEVER say the "Q-Word"... It's like asking "How b** can it **?"

[dystopia8]

The q word is prime fuel for Murphy's law. The police equivalent of the Scottish play.

[TheLegendaryBillCipher]

Loose chickens?
Mothercluckers.