The Other Side

by Split Scimitar

I Don’t Feel So Good

“Boeing 248AK, switch to advisory. No landing information available for Gusty Garden Airport, the ATIS is Echo.”

“Over to advisory, talk to you soon, 248AK.”

Parked, switch planes. This ship is lower on the depth chart because she’s not ETOPS-certified yet, nor do I see the need to do so, as I have many others available who can fulfill that trip if necessary. Plus, there are only two places within my immediate area where ETOPS is required: the North Atlantic and the Hawaii corridor. This means the only time I need an ETOPS ship is for trips to Hawaii or Europe, and I have plenty of aircraft that can Go The Distance. Outside of those I normally assign to trips in either of those corridors, ETOPS certification isn’t that big a deal in the grand scheme of things, though having my entire fleet that can receive it be ETOPS rated would be nice.

Torque Wrench is an absolute miracle worker as a one-woman show. Singlehandedly doing all of the maintenance except the heavy checks, I probably pay her less than what she should be earning, but she doesn’t complain.

As such, I have way more planes than I really need, and despite my high-profile business, every ship is maintained airworthy. I don’t purchase, or rather, haven’t yet, purchased a ship solely for spares, as I would rather spend the extra money and go OEM as it were. I’ll probably start to shift away from that someday, but I’ll continue to purchase from approved suppliers as long as practical.

Soon after I park, I receive a flood of texts, thankfully into a group chat.

“Hey Max,” Rainbow says, “this is gonna sound weird, but our Equestrian counterparts just received a friendship mission, and the location is near you as it turns out. Can we stay with you while we figure out what it is?”

“Yeah. That’s fine. How many will that be? Thirteen of you?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“No problem. How will I pick you up?”

“We’re waiting on when everyone gets here.”

“How many portals are they using?”

“Twilight’s the only one who has access right now.”

“Does this mean I have to go pick them up from Indianapolis?”

“I’ll have to talk with the Princess.”

“Please let me know ASAP.”

---

“Okay…! Now that we’re all here, how can we distinguish each of you?” I ask.

“You have Twi and Twily already.” Twi responds. “Though you can tell us apart by the glasses.”

“Okay, Applejack! One of you go by AJ.”

“I’ll do it.” Human AJ responds. “I think I get called it more than Applejack.”

“Works ‘fer me!” Equestrian Applejack concurs.

“Rainbow? You have a choice. Dash, Dashie, Rainbow…”

“Call me Dashie.” The Equestrian replies heroically.

“Done. Pinkie!”

“Yes!” Both respond simultaneously.

“Pinks good for one o’ya?”

“You pick.” They both respond. “No, YOU pick.” “Jinx, double jinx, triple jinx, you owe me a [soda/cupcake]!”

“Soda’s high! Who wants to go by Pinkie?” I ask without skipping a beat.

“I said ‘soda,’ so It’s Gonna Be Me!” The human responds gleefully.

“Where’s our Fluttershy?” Dashie asks as she peers around the room.

“She went to the bathroom.”

“Okay. I guess we can wait. Fluttershy, is there a nickname or something we can use to differentiate you two?”

“Um, I’ll ask if Fluttershy wants to go by ‘Flutters.’”

“Okay. Rarity’s the last one. What do you want me to call each of you?”

“You call me Rarity already. Wouldn’t want you to get us mixed up. My twin is currently pursuing somepony.”

“I can respond to something else.”

“‘Rares’ okay?”

“Sure.”

Just then, the Fluttershys return.

“Max, I’ll continue to use Fluttershy.”

“Call me Flutters.” The Equestrian smiles meekly.

“That settles it! So, you’ve been sent by this “friendship map” of yours. I have several questions.”

Every pony gathers around.

“When did the map start including this world?”

“Relatively recently. Right around the time I first came to visit.” Twily responds.

“Okay, and given how much of a toss-up solving problems in this world can be, where did the map dispatch you to?”

“Here, actually.”

“Why though?”

“I’m not sure. The map doesn’t give us much except a location.”

“I see. Well, if you need help finding out what or where the problem is, I have no shortage of resources available.”

“Actually, based on what I’ve been told, I think I know what it is.”

“Yes, and what would that be?”

“To make sure you knew that you failed.”

“Failed what?”

Completely blindsided by my response, Twily says, “I said ‘to make sure you were okay.’”

“Right. I thought you said that.”

She only gives me a skeptical look.

Some of my guests turn around to notice me, and once all eyes are on me, I tell them,

“Thank you for coming, and I’m sure the map has its best intentions for all of you as well as me. If Twily’s suspicions are correct, I assure you you were sent here unnecessarily. I’m fine. I assure you I am in no immediate danger of doing something outrageous. Please don’t waste your concerns on me. This is not the first time I’ve gone through something like this. If you’d like me to take you back to your origins, I will happily do so.”

“Wait a minute!” Applejack interjects. “Why in the world would you think we’re ‘wasting our concerns’ on you?”

“Because, speaking strictly to the Equestrians, we just met. Even if you are connected metaphysically, I assure you that I Can Handle It On My Own.”

“Sugarcube, I’m sorry to say, but we’re here to make sure you don’t do anything extreme, and as it stands, we ain’t leavin’ ‘till it’s safe ‘ta do so!”

“And just how can you monitor that? You haven’t attached any detector modules on me have you?”

“Nah, the map will tell us.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong here. No further action is required on your part. You can stay as long as you like, but understand that you would’ve been fine just communicating with me instead of dropping everything to come here.”

“Max,” Twily then adds to dispel the tension, “I understand where you’re coming from, but I implore you to understand our trepidation as well as the map’s. I can promise you that map doesn’t just send us to such remote or distant locations without a very good reason.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, nor do I want to just send us in circles, but I assure you that I’m fine. All I need is some time alone, some breathing room, and once I get back into my routine as it was before, everything will return to normal.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Well, I can’t give you solid dates because my business is on-demand. Unfortunately, I don’t have any scheduled hires in the near future, so there’s no timetable for a return, but I’ll find ways to keep myself entertained. I have no shortage of toys available.”

“What kinds of activities do you like to do?”

“I take my cars out for drives, I’ll make random trips to places, or I’ll play video games that emulate those two activities. I have flight simulators, racing and motorsport-type racing games, or I have their literal real-world counterparts.”

“It seems like your scope of activities and hobbies is extremely limited. One of your hobbies is literally your career.”

“Aye. That it is.”

“But that’s the perfect path to burnout.” Twi interjects. “How do you cope with that?”

“I’ve had plenty of burnouts over the course of my life, including 3 in the 5 years I was in Uni, plus 1 or 2 before I even made the airlines. Usually I let it play out and I conquer it with Motorsport. Thus, if I burn out in aviation, I can burnout in a car instead.”

Only Rainbow laughs, much to everybody and everypony else’s bemusement.

“Good one, Max!” She cries.

“Came up with it myself.” I say tipping my nonexistent hat. “Princess Twilight, I assure you that I need no additional assistance. I’ve been self-sustinent most of my life, even between and outside my marriages. Everyone ready to go to California?”

---

“Chicago departure, Boeing Echo India, Delta Hotel X-Ray off Gusty Garden, 2,400 climbing 6,000.”

“Boeing Echo India Delta Hotel X-Ray, Chicago departure. Radar contact 2 miles WNW Gusty Garden Airport. Turn left direct CMSKY, then proceed direct BDF.”

“Position checks, direct CMSKY, direct Bradford, Boeing EI-DHX.”

When we reach our cruising altitude of 38,000 feet, Rainbow comes into the cockpit along with Dashie.

“Hello.”

“Hey Max. Dashie wants to see this flying machine in action.”

“By all means. Please don’t touch anything, but I can answer questions.”

“How does this thing even fly?”

“Using the same principals as pegasi do.”

“But this thing weighs a ton!”

“Many tons. 46 tons in fact. And you’re right, it is surprising. And this jet is one of the smaller commercial jetliners out there. There are much bigger birds in the skies. This one is one of the most popular. Your twin actually hates this airplane.”

“Why?”

“You can ask her.”

“Boeing DHX, contact Denver center on 132.225.”

“32.22, Boeing DHX.” “Denver Center, Boeing EI-DHX, level at 380.”

“Boeing EI-DHX, Denver Center, roger.”

“Hi, got room for one more?” One of the Pinkies asks about 30 minutes later.

“That’s fine.”

“That’s a nice view. How far away are we?”

“We’ll begin descending shortly, so about 45 minutes or so.”

“Okie dokie, Loki!” She says as she stands in the doorway.

“I take it you’re enjoying the view from up here.”

“I’ve never really been this high up before. Even in Cloudsdale, a view like this would be difficult to replicate.”

“I see.”

---

“Boeing DHX, descend and maintain FL260.”

“Descend and maintain FL260, Boeing DHX.” I reply as I reach over and set the bugs for altitude and a descent rate of 2000 fpm.

“You’ll be pleased to know we’re beginning our descent now. I’ll need everyone seated in about 10-15 minutes. Rainbow, your decision altitude is 10,000. Stay or go at that point.”

“Got it.”

---

“Boeing EI-DHX, radar service terminated, IFR flight plan closed, retain squawk to landing, switch to advisory, great day.”

“IFR closed, squawk to the ground, over to advisory, thanks for the help, Boeing DHX.”

“March traffic,” Rainbow then calls, “Boeing EI-DHX in Banning Pass, visual 32.”

Flaps 5. Slow to 200.

I then set the CTAF for Perris Valley, L65, in the secondary and monitor it, just in case there‘s any traffic.

Below 190, flaps 10.

Below 180, flaps 15. Runway in sight, landing assured, lower landing gear.

“Perris traffic, Diver 9 climbing 9,000, sensitive film operation, Perris.”

3 green, down and locked. “Perris traffic, Boeing EI-DHX over the reservoir, turning 5 mile right base 32.”

“How high are you?”

“4,200 descending. And it’s ‘hi, how are you.’” I quip back as I set flaps 25.

“Very clever. You’ll be no factor. We’re turning southeast towards Hemet. Thanks for checkin’ in.”

“No problem. Nice to talk to ‘ya.”

30 flaps. Rolling onto final.

50.

40.

30.

20.

10.

Touchdown. Spoilers up, brakes on, 2 in reverse.

60 knots, disengage reverse thrust.

“March traffic, EI-DHX, clear of the runway at D.”

Once parked, shut down, and settled, I show everyone to a bedroom. Each human and pony gets their own room.

Since I don’t need their help but nevertheless appreciate their company, I decide to show them a good time. Since we’re in Riverside, and because tomorrow’s Saturday, I’m free.

October 12: Los Angeles or San Diego for the day? Ultimately, since I know more places to see, I choose the former.

It’s not exactly easy for us to stuff 14 of us into 2 cars, but we make it work. At her behest, the second driver is AJ. This greatly influences who rides with who, as the Twilights, Sunset, and the Rarities pick me. On the road with no time to lose, we head for Tinseltown.

When we reach that section of freeway where it’s always crowded no matter what, I make sure they’re right behind me. At around this point is where I need them close so I can drive down Hollywood Blvd. Our first stop will be right around there so we can walk and see some sights.

I carefully change lanes to leave space for my following. This is one place to expect good traffic, and even before getting off the freeway, we’ve added about 5 minutes to our travel time.

Fortunately, when we reach Hollywood Blvd and the Walk of Fame, the large amount of foot traffic is formidable, but a good indicator of what I would describe as a “healthy” level of tourists.

When I find parking convenient to the area but worth a pretty penny, I set a timer for three hours and head down the walk of fame.

I point out a few stars that interest me and take pictures of the girls with their favorite stars. Taking in the atmosphere of a Saturday afternoon with some of my friends in star-studded Los Angeles, you would expect me to at least be glad I’m in good company, and I am, but that’s not all.

See, the last time I actually did something touristy in Hollywood proper was with my cousins, when I was in middle school. Safe to say, it’s been quite some time since then and I guess doing it once coupled to living relatively close to Los Angeles for most of my life kind of makes me numb to it. Still, it’s not a total loss. Watching my friends interact with their twins and vice versa surprisingly has showed me both what each of them is like and in the process have discovered something personal about me.

What you may not know about my marriage to Rosalina was that when we met, she was only a few years past some of the most defining and traumatic moments of her life. Remember how I said that her mother died from complications undoubtedly linked to smoking and her father decided to join her shortly after? Well, shortly after that, she and Lockie were struggling to hold fort with what their parents left behind, so Rosalina left the Mushroom World for a fresh start and so she could get away from the pain and guilt she associated with home at the time.

At Mario and Luigi’s insistence, who were themselves under attack from the Koopa in the wake of specifically Peach’s pregnancy with Marc and Peter, Rosalina found an opportunity to live in this world. A few years later, she decided to return home and see Lockie, who had himself followed in his elder sister’s footsteps. Fun fact, at one point, both siblings were living only a few hours apart. Rosalina was working in Oklahoma City and Lockie was just beginning at the supermarket he now owns in Amarillo.

Anyway, I tell you that story to tell you this one. Over the course of the time we’ve known each other, I never really realized that subconsciously I have a type. Obviously there was the whole thing about Applejack, but this type is not physically definable. Each of the girls exhibit this trait, but Rarity fits this bill the best.

It’s no secret that Rarity’s love of fashion, clothing, and high society is very much what defines her as a member of her community. Obviously it’s standard practice for her to have an extensive working knowledge of her industry, but that’s not all.

Remember when I fell ill in London? She stepped the hell up. I know that she would do anything in her power to help a friend, and she did, but it was how she cared for me and that Display of Affection that really clinched it looking back. Or, you know, maybe she was just too afraid to watch someone die in front of her, I don’t know.

Rarity is not afraid to assume or step into a role that by the archetypes and stereotypes, what have you, directly contradict or otherwise go against the traditionally held morals, ethicals, ideals, or values, emphasis on traditional. See, I love each of the girls because they’re all tough, practical, self-assured, and comfortable in their careers. They’re all doing something they love or have otherwise connected their passion with their profession.

Knowing that Rarity especially, as someone who is very much the full part so to speak is willing to wear different hats, especially those that are considered polar opposites, and pull off those roles so well, on top of being what I could only describe as openly motherly, is beautiful. Someone who knows what they are, are confident in it, but are not afraid to get dirty or even go against the grain of their core selves, especially in the name of friendship or camaraderie, shows so much more than just their most defining and associative traits that after a while, at the risk of sounding shallow, could make them seem one-dimensional. That’s why I love this group so much, each gives the others something they wouldn’t have without them or at the very least, keeps their life interesting and diverse, which says a lot about their individual personalities and themselves as a group. Rarity may be the type of girl who is very over the top, but she knows she has lots of control over her life and career, despite her occasional screaming and hollering. As such, these outbursts are indicative of one thing: passion. Rarity may be a damsel in distress when she needs to be, but she is SO much more than just a one trick pony. That’s where I come in.

See, I’ve built my entire life around flight. Aside from a few years in my earliest days where I wasn’t concerned with my future, I can comfortably say I’ve eyed a career as a pilot for as long as I’ve lived. For that reason, to most people I seem extremely one-dimensional, and that really annoys me. Obviously, I want people to know me as a pilot because that’s what I’ve built my life on, and I’m proud of it. I don’t like being labeled exclusively as a pilot. Second to aviation is admittedly probably too close to be considered an “outside” hobby, cars. My garage almost rivals the Sultan of Brunei. Granted, it wouldn’t take decades to drive my entire garage (assuming one different car every day), but I’m proud of it too. Being so closely linked to motorized vehicles of transportation is limiting as I don’t have any other hobbies outside of them. I mean, yeah, I’ve played a couple sports and can easily have fun in other media like card games or board games, but in those I’m very much a casual. As for sports, I love them too, but especially in the one sport I like the best, baseball, that’s a team sport, and as such I can’t enjoy it without a second person. Similarly, golf. I’m not good at the game, but I definitely can have a lot of fun, even alone, but given the atmospheres of traditional golfers and that clientele, I tend to shy away from it by virtue of not being good at the game, as my lack of skill or practice would slow down everybody teeing off behind me.

The point I’m trying to make is Rosalina is like that. Even in the loss of both her parents, moving to a completely unfamiliar world, and building a new life there, developing who she was as a person and staying strong to who she was before she left home but still keeping a very open mind. That’s what makes those people so attractive. Rosalina even as “Princess of the Cosmos” still built a life here and despite having a much better opportunity in her home world, still maintains it.

Now that I’ve spent way too much time talking about myself, we find ourselves at the Disney/Ghirardelli Soda Fountain. Sounds like this is one thing the Equestrians have directly from the parallel, so to speak.

“Do you have bars or pubs back in Equestria, or is this the only equivalent?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Applejack responds. “We make cider, and it’s relatively well-distributed.”

“Is it alcoholic?”

“Yes, but it’s not that strong.”

“I see. Well, hopefully I’ll get to try it one of these days.”

“Absolutely! Let me know when you’re in Equestria and I’ll save you a glass.”

“Hey!” Dashie calls from the other end. “You’ll save him one but I still have to wait?!”

As we dig in to our lunch/dessert, amidst the conversations each of the others have, I receive a text.

“Why would our cousin be putting his needs above the family’s just because he didn’t want to go to med or dental school?”

“Because his career would only guarantee him being on strike, always looking for a job, or getting paid in peanuts. Money is the only thing that’ll make you happy, and he didn’t want to be happy.”

“What if he only wanted to be a pilot because of his love for the job?”

“That’s some touchy-feely feel-good bullshit that the self-esteem movement has pushed to compensate for the fact that they’ll never be making money. They only pursued their passion because they had no other way.

“Stop wasting your time and more importantly my time over this abortion of a sorry excuse for a dumpster you call our “other cousin.” Your life is so much better without him trying to brainwash you into thinking that money isn’t everything. That’s asinine. Happiness comes from making lots of money, which motivates you to work harder to earn even more. End of story. Stop talking about him. He doesn’t exist, and never has.”

Normally, I’d just laugh and roll my eyes, but this… this feels like a death threat, and not in a craic way. I shouldn’t be worried about this since not only do they refuse to acknowledge me, they deny my existence. Why should I be worried? I mean, sure, I saw the cousin who asked about me in New York, but that was a chance encounter. No way would I get threatened just because I’m still alive, right?

No matter. Let’s figure out the rest of the day.

By request of Twi and both Pinkie Pies, we head for the La Brea tar pits. In the case of the latter two, their sister Maud (of which there are also counterparts) is a huge fossil fan, so taking some pictures here are for her/them. As for Twi, this is one of a few opportunities to see Los Angeles from a historical standpoint, a primeval one.

Moving swiftly on, we stay out of Beverly Hills for reasons related to production filming, so we head for a proper lunch at one of my favorite places, Tsujita Killer Noodle in the Sawtelle neighborhood. I’m also here to conquer a spice challenge.

Thanks to low traffic (it’s like 14:45) we’re alone with only one other party to be served. As for the challenge, at the advice of the manager, my parameters are set as follows.

• Tokyo Style instead of Downtown or Original Style.
• No Soup.
• Numbness and spice level are both adjustable, each on a scale from 0 to 6.

Not ones to back down from a challenge, and eager to show the other up, both Applejacks and Rainbow Dashes follow in my footsteps.

Levels 4, 5, and 6 are spiced with ghost peppers in addition to the sansho peppers used in levels 1, 2, and 3. Because the upper levels use ghost pepper, the scale is exponential from that point.

Only one other is willing to enter the ghost pepper region: Sunset. None of the Equestrians dare try, and probably for good reason. I’ve tried up to level 5, where Sunset will attempt, and the house standard is level 3, which is where Twi and Pinks draw the line.

Everyone except Twily will remain at level 1. The Princess is therefore the only one who will not have any spice in hers.

I like spice, so a lot of spice challenges pique my interest. This one is no exception, which was recommended to me by some ramen foodie friends.

As the others continue to make small chat, I try and keep my mind clear of that little text exchange. I for whatever reason am in that group chat, but the only reason I can assume as to why is because of the cousin that continually vouches for me. Fitting, since he was the last one to disown me, and as I mentioned before, wouldn’t have if he didn’t have to. I take some solace in that, but for his sake I’m glad he chose to disown me, lest he himself get stigmatized.

When our food arrives, all thoughts of the text exchange vanish as I get my first sniff of level 6. It’s so hot, I‘m literally tearing up by scent alone. AJ, Applejack, Rainbow, and Dashie all do the same and suppress some coughs. I hope this doesn’t hurt them more than it should.

Before digging in, I mix everything together to break down the little garnish and to both help cool down the noodles and take in the full ghost pepper aroma. Now for that first bite.

The aroma pierces both mouth and nose, but I can easily overcome it.

When the first few specks of pepper hit my tongue, to call it wildfire would be a understatement, and firestorm definitely wouldn’t encapsulate it enough. Fire whirl/fire devil? Maybe. It’s an absolute madhouse either way. The tingling sensation starts immediately, so I quickly swallow the first bite with as little chewing as possible to keep my mouth clear. I’ve done a few spice challenges, and I’m able to convince myself that the first bite is always the hardest, so I know that each bite will be easier because I know where the bar is.

Before going for the second bite, I vainly attempt to cleanse my palate, so I just dive right in. The Apples and Dashes seem to be fine, though it’s blatantly obvious that at least the Equestrians have made a grave mistake. The ones I know however aren’t as worse for the wear, even though we’ve just started. To that I chuckle, considering that Equestrian cuisine (from the pony side) isn’t exactly known for spice, which kind of explains most of the others’ choice to order level 1 or 0.

To ease the pain, I reduce the size of my bite. I’m in no hurry to leave, and by the looks of the others’ conversations and such (aside from the obvious competition), neither are they.

A few more sips of water before each of the next few bites are futile in attempt to take advantage of the placebo effect. Nevertheless, come my approximate halfway point, the equestrian hotheads are only a bit behind me. The fire in their eyes hasn’t ceased despite the fire burning hot in each of their mouths. Actually, let me rephrase that. The fire in their eyes is burning just as hot as the ones in their mouths.

Sunset looks no better, with her face a few shades lighter than her hair and sweating profusely.

“This is really good,” she says barely able to speak. “Maybe I should’ve just stuck to a 4 or 3.”

I chuckle in response as I prepare for another bite.

Relishing the taste as much as I can now that the tingling has gone down slightly, I keep my focus on the others to try and distract from the near-unbearable burn in my mouth. No changes, other than a clear tie emerging between AJ and Rainbow. Both pairs overall however are now definitely worse for wear. Despite this, I can tell they’re holding off to see who taps out first.

I have two to three bites left, and I very desperately want a glass of milk, but I only need water until I finish.

One more bite, one more bite! (Man v. Food! Man v. Food!)

As I prepare for my last bite, I drop an ice cube in my mouth for a bit of psychological respite before getting a burst of rage and going for the last bite, some semblance of remnant heat and my own breath melting the cube as I slurp up the last noodle.

With a large exhale of victory, I pop a few more ice cubes to try and extinguish the blaze, but efforts are futile to a certain point, as the sheer volume of capsaicin I’ve ingested has permeated below the gum line, so to speak.

It’s now a race to see who’ll either finish or tap out.

Fortunately, we don’t have to wait long as Sunset finishes to minimal fanfare but asking for more water.

As for the others, Twily and Pinks are done, Twi and Pinkie have a couple bites left, the Fluttershys are about halfway through, and each of the Rarities are just eating their last bites.

Back to the competitions, each have a few bites left, and just as their faces go redder than a tomato, the Equestrians tap out. At the same time. I kid you not, it sounded like one big slam on the table.

Everyone, including the other tables, looks at them. Following the equines are the humans, who both finish, AJ swallowing her last bite only seconds before Rainbow.

“Hoo-whee!” AJ dribbles, sounding quite numb from all the spice, “well done Rainbow! We did it!”

The poor Equestrians desperately scramble for water, so I pass my pitcher over to them. To my amusement, a second one is brought over along with glasses of milk. I laugh as each of their acceptances shows that they not only conceded to not finishing level 6, both equally jump at the opportunity to take some casein.

After I take care of the bill and end up with the level 6 leftovers, we make our way out and decide to return home. I have nothing else I want to do short of pick up some water on the way, so after we find a convenience store to buy a couple bottles, we hop onto I-10 and make for March.

When we return home, everyone heads for a bathroom while I get a different type of feeling. See, today is a day I hold in higher regard than I should, but one I hold close to me, lest I forget. I’ll just let it play out.

---

“You put your own needs before the family. You could’ve had everything you ever wanted.” One voice bellows from afar.

“Giving into the desires of the flesh. What a shame. You could’ve had wealth and prosperity. Instead, you follow your own interests. May God have mercy on your soul.” Says another.

“You spat on us just because you didn’t want what was best for you. We spoiled you rotten so you would know what to expect, and all you did was throw it back at us, like a fucking indigent. You could have a support system, you could’ve been provided with wealth and prosperity, and you could‘ve been happy. Instead, you’re going to die young, you’re going to die poor, and you can forget about Heaven. Proverbs 19:23.” A third then adds just as my siblings and cousins appear.

“You had your time to play,
This is your judgment day.
We made a sacrifice,
And now you will pay with your life.”

“But you don’t have a gun.” I retort.

“We’re not taking on just anyone.”

“Is this a thing you do?”

“It’s something that we have to do.

“By putting your own wants and needs above the family’s, you have disrespected, dishonored, and disgusted us all. You are hereby stripped of your title and your patronage. Everything we did to you was done in love, so it’s your fault for getting offended, snowflake. You were a waste of our time, a waste of our money, a waste of our life, and a waste of blood and organs.”

---

“Why do you want to be a pilot?? That’s so preposterous!”

“With a belly like yours, how the fuck are you not diabetic?”

“What we say can’t hurt you because we love you.”

“Because we love you, we can say these things.”

“Truth sounds like hate speech to people who hate the truth.”

“God will provide if you just follow what’s best for you!”

“Money is the only thing that’ll make you happy!”

“Anyone who says otherwise is in denial.”

“Anyone who says otherwise is bullshitting themselves.”

“Alright,” I seethe quietly as I quickly exit the flashback. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Grabbing some gloves, a small revolver, a lighter, and a jerry can, I check the wheel and load a second bullet. On the rare occasions I played FPS games, I especially sucked on “one in the chamber.” This just increases my chances.

The can has about a half gallon inside of it, which should work perfectly.

As I emerge into the main room, everyone is busying themselves, so I sneak around on the opposite wall, which is easy, as we’re on opposite sides of the room. Plus, now that the sun’s starting to go down, we should be pretty close to bedtime for some of them.

I head outside to the base of the airside entrance to the garage. Stuck on autopilot with no way to disengage it, I open the jerry can and hold it over my head, tipping it over making sure to utilize every last drop on both me and the ground around me.

I pull the lighter out of my pocket and strike it. Staring directly into the flame like a moth, I stop.

“Stop! Why are you doing this?! You’re no longer a part of their life!”

Taking that sentence with some modicum of validity, I then squat down and shut out my surroundings, being completely enveloped in the sweet, sweet smell of petrol.

“You have friends and family who care so much about you!”

Family. That six-letter f-word that carries absolutely no meaning. A word as meaningless as my existence.

“Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem!”

Well, life is one giant problem and there’s an easy solution for it. Though maybe that line would be more poignant if I had used bleach, but whatever.

Just before I can get the flame close enough to ignite the petrol, I stop again.

“This is your last chance, man. Even if you do decide to go through with it, just listen. Those girls love you with all their heart. Doing this to them will be just like kicking a puppy. I understand that the whole abandonment and disownment situation seems unrecoverable, but it’s safe to say that you make these girls happy. If that’s anything to go off of, it’s worth putting up with any potential threats your biological family might dish out. I don’t have much more to say, and I know that things seem like they’re in slow motion, but you’ve been living from moment to moment and holding back from day to day very well. I’m proud of you.”

The lighter is still on, and I’ve been squatted for what now feels like an eternity. I’ve lost almost all feeling from my shins down. I’ve heard all four voices, and I hear what they’re all saying.

“Gonna break free.” I say as I smash the lighter on the ground, igniting the admittedly trace amounts of probably stale petrol.

As the ring around me flashes over rather anticlimactically, I reach for the revolver and point it in two places. My chest, and my head.

Wasting no time, to avoid the stream of tears, I shout, “I was born to break free!”

No sooner do I hear everyone bursting out the door to the scene before them does the whole scene turn into absolute and utter chaos.

As the unintelligible cacophony of crying, screaming, frantic pacing, and constant reassurances of “stay with me” and “it’s going to be okay” pass through one ear and go out the other, the only thing to leave my mouth is,

“It’s all, all, all… all good. I feel absol… absolutely amazing.”