Chapter 2
As the swirling coalescence of light and dark that accompanied the teleportation spell gave way to the dim interior of the library, Big Macintosh’s keen mind sprang into action. Wasting no time at all, he located the first shelf he’d search, a wide table, and a tall candle. He set the candle upon the table, lit it, and turned to face the rows of books in one smooth motion, but froze before he could touch the first tome. Something had moved, even though nopony should have been around. Twilight and Spike hit a delay on the way back from Canterlot and the library closed hours ago.
He exhaled quietly, then whirled around to find... bananas. Dozens and dozens of bananas spilling out of the end of an oversized green sock, none of which he recalled noticing a few seconds ago. Dim as the library may have been, it would have been difficult to miss. There also didn’t seem to be a reason for bananas to be filling a sock. Or a sock to be on the table. Or for any sock to be that large. Or bananas to be left out when nopony was home. Big Macintosh raised an eyebrow and stared into the befruited scene. Was finding something highly improbable immediately upon beginning the search for highly improbable things probable or improbable?
The bananas shifted and the surface of the sock began to writhe. Something else occupied the emerald article... something alive. He tensed his legs, ready and willing to strike down whatever foul agent had the audacity to sully royal property. Several seconds passed in silence before a mushy yellow wave exploded out toward Big Macintosh’s face. Blinded by the onslaught of fruit, he had no way of detecting the enemy’s attack. Something warm and moist clamped onto his front left hoof. Stampeding through the empty library in an awkward, three-legged gallop with a near-zero field of view, desperately flailing his remaining appendage in a futile attempt to dislodge the surprisingly painless attachment, Big Macintosh slammed face-first into a large bookshelf and collapsed on the floor.
Having neither gone unconscious nor felt any pain where he’d been attacked (only a curious and continuous gentle pressure)—but plenty of pain from his self-inflicted injury—he calmed down. Wiping away some of the mush covering his eyes, Big Macintosh discovered the identity of his toothless aggressor. Pinkie’s young gator Gummy blinked back at him, happily gnawing away with his slobbery, but harmless, mouth.
“Hiya Macky!”
Swiveling his head toward the sudden exclamation, Big Macintosh found Pinkie Pie bouncing in place with a smile on her face.
“Do you like Bananas?” she asked. She scrunched her face up and gasped. “Oh! I’m sorry, don’t worry, it’s not a trick question or anything and you can totally just say eeyup or eenope or eemaybe or eeonlyonTuesdays. My Party Cannon (TM) couldn’t even reach the moon!”
Keen though his mind may have been, Big Macintosh wasn’t prepared to deal with the living embodiment of hyperactivity. A bead of sweat rolled down his banana-stained face. “Ee...yup?” As the word rolled out of his mouth, he rose to his hooves.
Pinkie smiled and nodded. “Neato! ‘Cuz there sure are a lot of ‘em here and my tummy’s full and Gummy doesn’t really like bananas. You can eat as many as you want and nopony’ll get mad. Except maybe Twilight if you leave the peels all over the place and she slips and falls over and over and over until she gets so mad she invents a new spell to get rid of all the banana peels in a three mile radius but then something goes wrong with that spell and—”
Not only was trying to follow a conversation with her taxing, but her wild and unpredictable actions could easily mask any other improbable events. Big Macintosh needed an out. More than that, he needed a lead, and this sock was his only one so far.
He motioned toward the table. “Miss Pie, is that your sock?” he asked, careful to keep his speech slow and serene.
Pinkie quickly looked back and adopted a puzzled expression. “Which one?”
Big Macintosh’s eye twitched. Perhaps he was more like Twilight than he thought.
“‘Cuz if you’re talking about the big green one on the table, then no, that’s not mine.”
“Do ya know if it belongs to somepony?”
She shook her head. “Nopey-dopey!”
Once again, fortune smiled upon him. This wouldn’t be so hard after all. He shrugged and trotted toward the table.
Pinkie jumped between Big Macintosh and his prize. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted.
“I was—”
“That’s Gummy’s! It’s been in his family for generations, isn’t that right?” she asked, pressing the gator to her cheek. Gummy blinked one eye, then the other.
He scuffed a hoof along the ground. Of course. She’d said it didn’t belong to anypony, and Gummy wasn’t a pony. Also, ponies aren’t alligators. Everything she said checked out... probably. Shaking his head, remembering his mission, and briefly wondering whether or not Pinkie was contagious, he set himself on the most straightforward course he could manage. “Odd question, Miss Pie, but is there anything I can do that’d earn me that sock?”
“You’ll have to ask him!” she said. “Wait, what’s that, Gummy? You’re done with it? Oh! Okay then.” She smiled at Big Macintosh. “I guess it’s mine now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Now is there something I can do for ya in exchange for it?”
She giggled. “Oh boy, is there ever!” she said, picking up a piece of paper from the floor beneath her.
He gulped.
A thick, bold line of ink swept across the page, eliminating one more item from the list.
Paintball.
There had been flames. HOW? Big Macintosh pushed the memories of the last few hours out of his mind. His eyes shivered above the last line on the paper as a deep, primal fear rocked him to his core. Everything was almost over. There was just one more trial to overcome... With all the courage of a young colt trotting into a haunted mansion to impress his friends (read: between none and very little), he covered his eyes with a paint-splattered hoof and peeked a fraction of an inch beneath it, hoping to see the words before they saw him.
Party.
...Party?
He tilted his head to one side. Pinkie Pie was known for parties, but he was at a loss as to why or how he could assist her. “Miss Pie?”
“Yeah, Macky?” she chirped.
His eyes darted about, scanning for anything sinister. He trusted that the mare-shaped creature in front of him didn’t mean any harm, but he had no faith whatsoever that there’d be none. He pointed at the paper and feigned exaggerated confusion about his ability to read via expertly presenting his very real and unaugmented confusion about what it meant. “Am I readin’ this right?”
Pinkie hopped over to him, her smile never even quivering, before she leaned down next to him and blinked at the paper. “Huh... that is weird. Why would there be a party before the end?”
“That’s what I—” he started to say before dropping that train of thought entirely. His eyes grew wide as his ears drooped. “Before the end?”
Pinkie reached for the paper and batted at the bottom of it, prompting more to fall down. “Yeah! Part one was tons of fun, and I can’t wait to get to the rest!” she said. The list had been folded, and they were only through the first page. Big Macintosh’s eye twitched for a few seconds.
“I’m... I’m awful sorry, Miss Pie, but I don’t think we can finish.”
She frowned slightly. “You’re right. I don’t even know what some of the words on these other pages mean.”
“...How can you not know what they mean?”
Whatever small twinge of sadness had tainted her earlier evaporated under the warmth of a renewed grin. “The same way I don’t know what effervescent or chartreuse or hypothalamus mean!”
Big Macintosh stared blankly.
“What? I’m not Twilight,” she said with a shrug. One hoof tapped repeatedly against her chin. “At least... I don’t think I am.”
“I don’t follow. You wrote down things you didn’t understand?”
“Of course not, silly! I just told you, I’m probably not Twilight. And if I’m not Twilight, then why would I make a checklist?”
“I... you don’t...” Big Macintosh’s jaw slid around, occasionally dropping a word or two, but never letting out a complete thought — not that there were any complete thoughts to let out. “The list?”
“Ooh! Ooh! Pick me! I know this one!” Pinkie shouted, jumping up and down, holding one limb in the air like a schoolfilly. “I found it! I found it and lots of things on it sounded like fun and I needed to distract you for a while.” She stopped jumping and looked down. “Sorry I tricked you,” she said before meeting his gaze again with renewed determination burning in her eyes. “But it had to be done.”
An uncomfortable ache spread through Big Macintosh’s skull. He groaned softly and pressed a hoof to the side of his head. He dreaded the answer, but he had to ask. “Distract me from what?”
“The sock! You were gonna take it!”
“And that’d... upset Gummy?”
“It would upset all of Equestria, Macky. That sock has a destiny to fulfill, and it can’t do it stuck to you!”
Glancing toward the table, he noticed a distinct lack of oversized green sock. “Where’d it go?”
She giggled. “I just told you! It’s off to fulfill its destiny. It left about a few minutes ago while you were playing with Gummy.”
A small puff of smoke drifted out of one of Big Macintosh’s ears. His jaw slackened slightly. “I think... I think I’m gonna go home and go to bed,” he said. It was late, there was no progress to be made here, and down the road before him lay only madness. In the morning, he’d resume searching the library as he originally intended. He turned and stepped toward the door, pushing it open without saying another word. He could still feel Pinkie’s grin aimed at him.
“Watch out for the shark!”
He paused briefly, considered responding, decided against it, completely ignored the non-sequitur, and trotted out into the night.
A rhythmic beep filled the softly-lit room while everypony sat still. Big Macintosh hadn’t sustained any real injuries, though the clinic staff were easily convinced to insist that he had when he flashed the Seal of the Order of the Apple. Granny was home preparing the holo-Mac as the seconds ticked by.
The fog of confusion lifted shortly after the impact. Whatever the cause, he felt relieved that his thoughts were clear again and even moreso that he now had a longer-lasting excuse for his absence from the farm. He suppressed a grimace at the thought of his sister overworking herself to keep everything running smoothly.
Finally, Apple Bloom broke the silence. “We were so worried about ya’!” she squeaked, tears streaming down her face.
He picked her up and wrapped her in a reassuring hug. “I’ll be fine; Doc says so. Just need rest.”
“I don’t get it, Mac. How did this happen if all you were doin’ was gettin’ some fresh air?”
He sighed. “Strangest thing, a big ‘ol statue of a shark fell outta the sky.”
“A shark?” Applejack asked with a bemused expression on her face. “What in tarnation was a statue doin’ up in the air, and why in the hay would anypony around here have somethin’ like that?”
Big Macintosh shrugged. “Better not to ask. None of my business, anyways.” Very likely less mentally damaging not to ask, as well.
“We’re jes lucky we got so many backups comin’ in ta help out at the farm while you’re out of commission. Don’t ever let nopony tell ya family ain’t the greatest thang in Equestria.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Backups?” he asked.
Applejack beamed. “What with the sudden duststorm and all, Red and Golden Delicious and the rest of theirs can’t do much at all out there. I reckon they’d much rather make themselves useful here. So don’t you worry none; we got a whole heap o’ Apples on the way to help out an’ we don’t even haveta feel bad about taking them away from their work, ‘cuz they ain’t got none at the moment.”
“Whoa now, what duststorm? When?”
She chuckled. “Lots of strange things lately. Just last night, Red Delicious was frettin’ about a whirlwind of dust and sand stoppin’ everypony from getting anything done. It’s weak enough nothing’ll be damaged, but strong enough nopony can safely work in it. I said we could use a hand with you bein’ sick, and now with you bein’ injured it’s twice as true.”
Big Macintosh smiled. With his sister safely convinced of his inability to work, the farm under control regardless, and any worries about his health put to bed by the knowledge that the clinic would take good care of him, he was free to take as long as necessary to complete his mission. “Glad ta hear it.”
“Well I’m glad ta hear you’re alright. Hope ya get better soon, big brother,” Applejack said, joining her siblings in a big hug before pulling away and turning to face the door. “C’mon, Apple Bloom. Let’s leave ‘im be.”
“Git well soon!”
“I will.”
As their hoofsteps gradually faded around the corner, Big Macintosh breathed a sigh of relief. He reveled in the momentary peace, knowing it was likely the last of it until Luna’s socks were found.
“Twilight?” Applejack gasped. “What in tarnation happened to you? I wasn’t aware I’d be making two visits here today.” Her voice echoed through the hall.
Twilight’s voice rang just as clearly. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say that if I never see another banana again, it’ll be too soon.”
He suppressed a chuckle. Pinkie was a... remarkable specimen, and he didn’t dare doubt for even a second that she was right about that sock’s destiny. The only question left was whether it was one of the socks he was looking for or not. Any and everything that had happened could just as easily and stupidly be attributed to Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie as it could to Luna’s socks being magically enchanted. He had no reason to believe he’d found anything, and he had no more questions he was brave enough to seek answers to.
...Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Something at the back of his mind bothered him about the convenience of an entirely non-destructive dust storm springing up at exactly the right time and place to free up enough Apples to keep Sweet Apple Acres afloat for the duration of his quest. As far as he knew, Pinkie wasn’t involved. He squinted out the nearest window, straining his eyes in a futile attempt to see the storm for himself from such a ludicrous distance, but he couldn’t make out anything other than a tiny splotch on the horizon. There hadn’t been a severe dust storm anywhere but the desert since... about twenty years ago. He blinked and put together one more question. How probable was that?
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I feel total randomness and abject insanity shall rule the rest of this tale
and on an unrelated note..... first
This story makes no sense whatsoever.
"Oh my god J.C a banana!
A banana! "
WAT
Obligatory.
scranton.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/img/mlfw6123-pppbj_by_dstears-d55lphy.gif
Take all my wat.
Chartreuse!
I loved how you wrote Pinkie Pie. So funny! Oh, and thank you for ending it with a lead...
*cracks knuckles*
1269227
All right kid, don't get cocky! *Han Solo*
Sweet job Worsty! Good stuff.
1269611
AhahahahaNO.
Oh wait, you're serious.
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Please, take it away from me before I break its other legs.
1269662
It wasn't that bad! I laughed at the insanity, and I think you wrote Pinkie Pie very well.
Regardless, your burden is lifted. Ponky is on the case.
1269662 I loved it, Worsty! Gave me so many ideas!
1269789
1269662
It's okay. I can see this for the terrible mess it is. But that's okay because this is hardly serious or worthy of any awards, this is just a fun thing to do for all us SATGF people. Just think about it; it could have been worse. It can always be worse.
Bananas, eh? ...So Big Macintosh .... is a ... Mmmm.... let's say 'Female Dog', here... that likes Bananas.... Hmmmmm.... sounds familiar, somehow.... dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/lolface_Celestia.png
Pinkie Pie? Being a sub-boss antagonist? I can dig it.
Paintball and fire. The Green Sock works in mysterious ways. I'm having next to no clue as to how I'm going to shape this story when my time comes. If things prove as kaizo as this installment, I suppose the sky's the limit.
Worsty, you have a gift of bizarrely poetic overstatement in your approach to comedy. You have my envy, good sir.
Now I'm beginning to wonder if there is intelligence to the improbability and if... it is flirting with Big Mac.
-SS&E
And so insanity goes on and has help from gummy. This is gonna be great.
-He pointed at the paper and feigned exaggerated confusion about his ability to read via expertly presenting his very real and unaugmented confusion about what it meant.
Sentence of the year, right here.
Well, that was... Something. Can't find a word for it.
The question "is this probable or improbable?" is certainly an intriguing one. Looking forward to reading more!
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