Previous Chapters Next
Close
Prologue1,183 words
Cornology2,698 words
Flavors to Ask2,088 words
News & Brews4,252 words
Half Past a Kick in the Ass4,045 words
Rocky Mountain Lead2,535 words
Shock n' Awe4,099 words
East Bound and Down1,279 words
Fancy Mathematics2,108 words
Tempers Flared3,858 words
It Ain't Food2,113 words

Cornology

PonyFall: Mile High Apple Pie

Cornology

April 13th, 2012

Sleep, wake up, browse the internet, play video games, browse more of the internet, eat dinner, more internet, then sleep again. Throw in a dip or a cigarette, maybe a can of Coke into that order of excessive boredom to mix things up every now and again. Repeat this routine every day for more than a month and it begins to wear away at your sanity, and even your social life. Assuming you had one in the first place.

Unfortunately, this day was no exception, whether I liked it or not. So as usual I got up, threw some clothes on, and went upstairs for my mandatory ‘coffee and cigarettes’. The sky was bleak yet again, with only a few clouds dotting the blue expanse. I had decided to check the date on my phone and soon found out that it was April 13th, four days since I turned nineteen. With a grunt, I stood up and put my cigarette out, then drained the last of my coffee and trudged back downstairs.

Figuring it best I go out to find a job, I took my shirt off and grabbed a new one from my dresser. One that just so happened to be my Rainbow Dash t-shirt with ‘COME AT ME BRO’ printed on it. Yes, I’ll admit it. I’m a brony. A deviant from the definition of masculinity. Say what you will, I’m not afraid. And I’ll be damned if it’ll stop me from going out and getting a job today! Look out world, here I come! All of my sexiness for your viewing pleasure!

I put the shirt on, along with my leather jacket, vest, boots, and chaps. All in all, I looked like your run of the mill, ugly-as-sin biker. My red bandanna tied like a 'do-rag' just happened to top it all off. I know, I know, I'm just the pinnacle of manhood and physical attractiveness, right? If that's not enough to make the ladies swoon, my other addiction is that touchdown pass. Copenhagen Longcut, the good stuff, puts hair on your chest. If you don't know what that is, let me dull it down: it's chewing tobacco.

So there I was, standing in the garage, looking at the beautiful beast of a machine. My father’s 2009 Harley Davidson 1500cc Dyna, 'Fat Bob'. Sexy bike, let me tell you. This machine not only sports a race tuner which amps up the torque and horsepower, but also drag pipes (Which help with performance, but are mostly for making a bunch of racket and grabbing people’s attention), and a pair of ape-hangers. I opened the garage door and took my rightful place on the bike. I put up the kickstand, turned on the ignition, hit the start button, popped it into gear, and off I went to search for a job.

As it turns out, nobody wants to even consider hiring a kid that scoots around on a loud-as-hell motorcycle and dresses in full riding leathers. With one final 'F-U-Salute' to the wonderful shithole of Greeley, I left and headed south down highway 85. Just me, the bike, the open road, and a clear pink sky... Yep, gotta love a good pink, wait... pink?

“That ain't right,” I said to myself as I pulled the machine over onto the shoulder. Turning the engine off, I looked back at the sky; it was somehow beyond any and all redneck comprehension, set ablaze with a flashing facade of pink. 'What a Beautiful Day' my ass, Mr. Cagle. This isn't natural, it ain't right, and something smells like weird-ass chocolate, or fudge, or whatever the hell it is kids eat nowadays.

Could it be that I had stopped by a corn field, and somehow advancements in the science of cornology had invented a chocolate corn species that made the atmosphere appear pink to any who smelled it?

Well, only one way to find out! Go into the field, look at the corn and taste it... like an idiot. But can it ever really be that simple? No it can't, you gotta become some sort of ninja. You see, the North American farmer is a very territorial species and, as such, has a sort of 'sixth sense' for anything involving his crops and property.

Stomping down the embankment into the ditch, I noticed the odd smell had grown slightly stronger. Whether this was a good or bad thing was beyond me. Nonetheless, I trudged onward following the smell. A few minutes later I was in the middle of the field and the scent was starting to give me a headache.

“Okay, maybe this guy is using some kinda funky fertilizer.”

So I ventured forth some more, driven by curiosity and that slight sense of danger we all crave in life. It wasn't long before I saw the sky light up once more, granting me an odd feeling of dread. I pushed a few more ears of corn to the side and looked down to see a foot. No socks, no shoes, nothing. It even looked surprisingly clean, given its location. My hand instinctively edged forward to poke it; I was an inch away from touching it when it twitched.

I won't lie, this scared the piss out of me.

So like any self-respecting man, I jumped back, tripped over my own feet, landed flat on my back, and refrained from squealing like a stuck pig. I quickly got up and scooted a little farther away, staying as quiet as possible to listen for anything weird.

As they say, 'the plot thickens.’ My mind was racing with thoughts of what the foot was doing there. Had the owner been drugged and raped in a corn field? It wasn’t unlikely given the massive amounts of illogical illegal Mexican immigrants running around Greeley, but that still didn't explain the fudgey odor. Maybe there was some sort of 'party in the cornfield'? After a quick glimpse around, I noticed the only tracks around were my own, and option B was out of the question. What else could there possibly be? I've never heard of skydiving in this area, and the closest airport was all the way in Fort Collins or something like that, so I tossed that idea out the window.

When all else fails, attempt interrogation. I once again made my way toward the foot, but I didn't stop there, I crept forward some more and let my eyes trace the foot up the length of the body. I soon found out that said foot belonged to a girl. A fully naked girl to be precise. I won't lie here, I had some pretty indecent thoughts run through my head, and I damn near acted on them. But my moral conscience got the better of me, forcing me to try and wake the girl up and attempt to help. All of this ran through my head while trying to ignore, in what my opinion, is the absolute perfect body for a chick to have. But I won't go into detail.

“Hey, Freckles,” I said. I had decided that would be her nickname for the time being since she was damn near covered in them. “Y’alright?”

No response. I scooted up to her side and examined her body. Not a single scratch or misplaced hair as far as I could tell. The only thing that seemed out of place was her. There were no clues as to how she got here, and she looked too clean to be homeless. Hell, even her hair looked damn-near perfect. It was long and blonde in a sorta weird ponytail with bangs. She had it tied with a little red hairband down near the very bottom. The style itself seemed vaguely familiar, I just couldn’t place a finger on it.

I placed my hand on her forehead; she didn’t feel hot or cold. I reached down and opened one of her eyes. Once open, I took notice of their vivid emerald green color and the way her pupils dilated. Her other eye then flew open, cue dilating pupil number two, and I was now fully aware that she was alive and breathing and about to whoop my ass.

“Augh!”

Lo and behold the new martial art of Who-Da-Hell-Are-You Kung Fu.

“Whoa, calm down there Sally.”

“Get away from me ya monster!” She was now in some weird bear-crawl position that reminded me of my days in football.

“What part of ‘calm the heck down’ don’t you understand, woman?”

“Don’t come near me, Ah’m warnin’ ya!”

“Warning me? Bitch I’m trying to figure out why you reek of fudge and why you were passed out in the middle of a god damn cornfield.”

“Ya’ll ain’t foolin’ me,” she growled through clenched teeth. “Ya’ll ain’t a pony, which means Ah don’t trust ya.”

“Well no shit I ain’t a horse. Neither are you for that matter.”

But you’re skittish like one I thought to myself.

“Yes Ah am, see this?” She raised her hand up and showed it to me “This here’s a hoo-” She stopped talking and stared at her hand, looking scared out of her wits.

“A hand,” I stated.

“What did ya’ll do to me? Where’s mah hooves?” she demanded.

“I didn’t do shi-” She lept forward and her hand, which was now a fist, made direct contact with my face. I can honestly say, it could have easily passed for a hoof.

“Ya’ll best change me back right now!” She looked extremely pissed despite her awkward way of standing.

“I ain’t a rocket surgeon, how the hell do you expect me to change you into something you ain’t?”

She lunged again, this time I managed to move out of the way. Believe it or not, she could hit better than some guys I knew. But she obviously wasn’t a very coordinated fighter, which gave me a good opening that even Captain Obvious would refuse to point out. I came up behind her, brought my right arm around her neck and placed my left hand on the back of her head, grabbed my left forearm with my right hand and locked. A move known as the ‘rear naked choke’, which was a fairly appropriate title given the situation. I brought my legs up around her waist and locked my feet, then fell backward. She wasn’t going anywhere now, and if she put up too much of a fight, I could easily incapacitate her.

“Now would you calm down and tell me what the hell you’re doin’ out here? I ain’t trying to hurt you, but if you don’t knock it off I’ll be forced to.” I gave a slight squeeze, letting her know I meant business.

“Ah don’t know! Let go of me!” she screamed.

“Bullshit. What’s your name?”

“A-Applejack.” She struggled some more, trying to free herself.

“More bullshit. I ain’t playin’ around here.”

“Ah ain’t lyin’.”

“And I’m the Queen of England,” I droned.

“How do Ah prove Ah’m tellin’ the truth?”

“By doing just that, telling the truth.” She was still struggling, and I was getting worn out.

“AH AM TELLIN’ THE TRUTH!” She finally gave in and stopped moving. “Please just leave me be. Ah need to go find RD an’ Twi an’ all them.”

“RD an Twi?”

She sighed. “Rainbow Dash an’ Twilight Sparkle. Two of mah best friends.”

“Either you’re a damn good liar or you’re the real thing,” I said, skepticism clearly evident in my voice.

“Of course Ah’m the real thing, how else would Ah be me an’ know mah friends?”

Call it faith, call it stupidity, call it whatever you want. I let go and rolled her off of me. “Prove it.”

“How?”

“Give me a damn good reason why you're claiming to be a talking horse after I found you naked in a cornfield reeking of fudge and bullshit.”

She sat there quietly without saying a word. I figured she was taking her time trying to piece everything together, so I decided to shorten my natural life a bit more via a ‘cancer stick’. I had to admit, with the way she talked, how her voice sounded, some of her physical features and her strength, she was fairly convincing. But as far as I could tell she could've just been some whacked out cosplayer who happens to be a weightlifter or something.

“Tell ya what. We'll head on back to my house.” I paused and gave her a quick once-over. “Let’s get you cleaned up and hopefully sober you up from whatever the hell it is you're on.”

“So ya'll trust me?”

“No, I'm just giving you the benefit of the doubt for now.” I stood up and began taking my leathers off when I caught her staring wide-eyed at my chest. “Am I suddenly Channing Tatum or somethin’? Quit staring my chest, woman.”

“Why do ya'll got a picture of Rainbow on your... whatever that thing is?”

“Cause I like her, that’s why. Now put this on, last thing we need is you revealing yourself to the world.” I tossed my jacket to her, figuring if she was a normal person she'd be able to put it on without any problems. As it turned out, she didn't have the first clue how to put it on. “Well?”

“How do Ah put it on?”

“Put your arms through the sleeves an’ there ya go. Simple ain't it?” She did as I instructed, with some difficulty.

“Ah don't think this is right.” She had the damn thing on backward, which I don't know how she managed.

“You've got it on backward, that's why,” I snickered.

BANG!

“Shit, gotta go. Come on!” I grabbed her arm and led her back the way I came, fighting the leaves on the cornstalks all the way. By the way, here's a bit of a pro-tip: don't go running through a cornfield like a bat outta hell. As it turns out, those leaves are pretty sharp. It didn't help that she was stumbling all over the place, either. Suffice to say, I was struggling. Almost as if she had just got a brand new pair of legs and didn't know how to walk.

“What's goin' on? Where ya'll takin' me?” Applejack inquired.

“We ain't welcome in that cornfield no more, and Doctor Farmer Dude has a gun.” I looked back to try and get a general understanding of where the farmer was with no luck. All I heard was him shouting something unintelligible behind me, which was enough motivation for me to pick up the pace. Crikey! This bugger’s a mad one ain’t he?

We made it to the edge of the field and I looked around, nervously trying to find the bike. I must be pretty damn blind or just plain stupid, as I didn't see it anywhere. That is, until I looked directly in front of me. I led the crazy female over to the motorcycle and got on.

I pointed to the spot behind me. “Alright, sit right here and hold on to me. Got it?” She nodded and, after some fumbling, finally got on. I started the bike, hit the kickstand and gunned it. For the first time ever I was scared for my life. Not because I was being threatened by a gun, but because I was stupid enough to make a half-naked girl get on the back of a motorcycle with me, then ride down the highway throwing caution and common decency to the wind.

A/N: Blame TheSlorg for this turning out better than it should have. He's a fantastic editor and really knows how to edumacate a redneck like me.

5,173 views

360

Previous Chapters Next