Roadmaster

Chapter Five

A while more of driving brought the group to the Lunoco Truckstop, known as the "Big L", which was sold after the "Haywire incident" to a family of mules, after heavy damage was inflicted, which was too expensive for the Broughams to fix. As they rolled in, Derpy noticed a sign put up, "No diesel today, pumps broken, gas o.k."

She pulled the Roadmaster up to the gasoline service island, the car's tires ringing a bell via a wire on the ground, and a mule, who she guessed to be the service attendant ran out.

"Want me to look under the hood?" he brayed, sticking the pump nozzle into the tank, "You never know when you could break down...."

"Oh, it's okay," Derpy reassured him, "We'll be fine..." All of a sudden, a craving hit her like one of the trucks that had inhabited the stop just months before. "By the way, is the diner still operating? Mama needs some muffins!"

"Sure, right over there!" The attendant gestured to a building half-covered with plywood boards, which were replacing glass that had been shattered by machine gunfire. "But remember, no foals in the bar section."

The travellers entered the diner to see a motley selection of ponies being serviced. Some drank coffee, most drank beer. Derpy then saw a familiar red-maned cream mare carrying a tray of food over to two truckers at the counter.

"Hi, Roseluck!" she greeted her with a friendly wave in her direction.

To her surprise, her friend didn't wave back, and continued to the booth where the two truckers sat.

"She must be busy," she thought, "She's the only waitress here."

After a while, Roseluck DID notice them, and trotted over, smiling.

"Hey, Derpy!" she chimed, "Long time, no see! How're things with Fleetwood going?"

"We divorced...."

Roseluck looked like she had regretted asking. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I saw him this morning!"

"You did?!" Derpy was shocked. Fleetwood had been missing for two weeks, noone had seen him since Spike and Rarity's wedding.

"Sure did! He said something about hitchiking back to Ponyville. So, anyway, what'll you have?"

"Muffins," the blonde pegasus hissed, "And LOTS OF THEM!"

"Mom?" Dinky pointed out timidly, "You're letting your addiction run your life again!"

"NO, I'M NOT!" she retorted, "I CAN STOP ANY TIME I WANT TO!"

*Press 'Play' icon to listen to ambient music when you get to webpage*

As Derpy gorged herself with the bran muffins, and the rest of the group pecked at cereals, especially Scootaloo, a brown and gray shape tossed and turned in it's sleeping spot in a drainage ditch. As it turned out, Fleetwood hadn't left yet. He was waiting for a Greyhound that stopped at the Big L every Sunday, and had narrowly missed it when he arrived last Sunday. Great, now he had another whole weeek laid up in this dump!

He pulled himself out of the ditch, throwing his newspaper blanket off somewhere, and, straightening his tie, began walking over to the diner for a bite.

He was surprised as a gray pegasus with a yellow mane, with several foals, and two ponies whom he recognized as Wilcox and Pinkie Pie, were booted out of the restaraunt.

"WHAT?!" the pegasus challenged loudly, "I SAID I WAS GONNA PAY FOR THEM!"

"You were making a mess!" came a reply from inside.

Fleetwood couldn't believe it! This mare was Derpy, and she had his own daughter with him! He had to get a snapshot of her worst moment, crumbs smeared over her face, and report it to child services. That would be proof that she was an unfit mother! Plus, she was late on foal support! He took off running toward them, yelling "I WANT MY FOAL SUPPORT!"

"RUN!" Derpy hustled her kids into the station wagon, and took off down the road. Some bum in a suit who looked a lot like Fleetwood had begun to chase them. She was relieved as she put some distance between them.

Fleetwood knew he had to act fast, so he devised a plan: Hijack the next car to pass, and give chase. As he spotted a Prius, he decided to wait for the next car after THAT.

Finally, a suitable ride came lumbering down the road: A black 1968 Dodge Charger R/T. The stallion who owned it should've been ashamed of himself, he was using a 375 Ponypower BEAST as a grocery getter! It deserved to be driven fast and hard, what it was designed to do. He ran out into the street, and pulled out a few thousand bits.

"GET OUT," he commanded, handing the scrawny stallion driving the money, "This oughtta cover the cost of your car!"

"But," he replied, pointing to a colt who was sitting next to him, "How will I get my son to his birthday party?"

"FIGURE IT OUT...."

He threw the stallion and his son out ,Detroit-style, and took off toward Derpy.

Derpy gazed in her mirror to find the nightmare had come true. The Charger was barreling down on them, but there was a different driver. Wait, was that Fleetwood?

"Oh, no...."

"What's wrong?" Dinky asked innocently.

"Your father wants foal support again...."

"Don't worry, miss," Wilcox reassured her, "Just stomp on the gas, and he'll disappear. We've got an LT1 V-8, a 'Vette motor!"

"So? A LOT of GM cars have detuned Corvette motors!"

"I never said it was DETUNED..." he smirked.

The old desert highway was alive with the roar of engines as the two machines sped along, kicking up dust that blew across the road.

Telephone poles looked like a picket fence.

The lines on the road were one yellow stripe.

Everything besides the two cars seemed like a blur to their inhabitants.

"He's moving up!" Pinkie warned, "JEEZ, how much power does he have? Is he crazy?"

When Fleetwood got within bumping range, the Crusaders, who were in the rear-facing seat in the back of the wagon, had the mistake of taunting him.

"Come ON!" Scootaloo jeered, making a face at him, "You can't handle a car like that, you Frank Sinatra wannabe, you don't have the GUTS to ram us-"

The brown pegasus responded instantly by pulliong out into the opposite lane to pass. He pulled up alongside them, and signaled for Derpy to roll down her window.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT, FLEET?" she yelled over the sound of the wind, "I'M TRYING TO GIVE YOUR FOAL A DECENT VACATION!"

"THAT'S JUST IT, DARCE!" he explained, holding up a deed that read, "Divorce Agreement" with the hoof that wasn't on his steering wheel, "IT'S MY WEEKEND! AND I NEED MY FOAL SUPPORT, WHERE'S MY FOAL SUPPORT?!"

"Meeh, foal support, foal support!" Pinkie mimicked, "I need my foal support, I want my foal support! Where's the foal support?"

Twist erupted in laughter, her braces making spit fly everywhere. The Crusaders and Dinky joined in, which made Fleetwood very mad, indeed.

"SEVILLE FLEETWOOD ELDORADO DEVILLE SEVILLE CALAIS HOOVES-BROUGHAM!" he yelled to Dinky, "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO LAUGH AT YOUR FATHER! HE WORKS VERY HARD TO LOOK COOL!"

"Dad, my name is DINKY," she corrected, "My middle name is Seville."

"Well, at least I gave you a respectable na- MOTHER OF CELESTIA!"

Fleetwood turned his attention to the road, remembering that he was on the wrong side, to see an 18 wheeler coming right at him, like you would see in a Looney Tunes cartoon. He swerved to avoid it, and struggled to control the car, as he slid on the roadside desert, the massive Charger finally getting hung up in some dry desert bushes.

"NEXT TIME, MR. BROUGHAM," Wilcox suggested innocently as they passed, "TRY AND KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!"

"Fuck off, Wilcox...." he muttered, climbing out to look at the damage. The car was still in very good shape, with no damage sustained from the collision with the bushes, except a dirty coat of paint.

"I'll get you, Darcy," he promised, "And when I do, you're never gonna get your foal back, AS LONG AS YOU LIVE...."