30 Days In The Hole

"Smile if you like," muttered the blank faced unicorn. Newcastle Brown glanced at her for a moment, and then he thrust out his front hooves against the counter. He leaned back and hurled his thick, golden mane across his face. He tipped the edges of his hooves up towards his lips. He slanted his head a little bit over, looked straight at the unicorn, and winked.

*Click*

Brown kissed the air, his eyes locking with the unicorn's beady little appendages.

*Click*

"Turn," she muttered. The unicorn continued to stare at the drying paint on the wall behind him. Brown swirled around his hooves and then swung his whole body over. He bumped his hips against the edge of the counter. He quickly ran his hoof up to his horn and then across his face. All freshened up, he sat straight. He then suddenly nudged a few inches over and licked the glass wall.

*Click*

"Done," she said. Although she picked her voice up a little bit more, she showed less emotion than a box turtle. Brown gave her another seductive glance. This time, he let a little tuft of his frizzy golden curls bounce right atop his eyes. He ran his left front hoof along the edge of his chin. A few seconds went by. He sniffed, and then he trotted off over to the corner.

A big, beefy mule pointed at him to stop. The mule then motioned him over to a narrow little corridor. His eyes glanced around the offices behind him. All white, all calm, and all sterile... Praise Luna, even the ponies that work here are in prison. He moved on down the corridor. It almost seemed to shrink and narrow at every step like one of those funhouse attractions. The mule let out a loud grunt.

"English please, my brother," Brown remarked. The mule pushed his back. He held up a hoof and made as if to pop the mule one, but he immediately hesitated. They'd be scrubbing me off this wall if I... The mule silently pointed up at a set of stairs behind him.

Brown turned around. He took a deep breath, and then he headed up. He followed the stairs over to the right. He nearly smacked into the thick grey door that appeared. He paused. Somepony then opened the door from the inside. So much empty ceremony... It's like I was naughty and they have to sick the principal on me. He stepped into the light.

He seemed to go into tunnel vision. He gazed upon what seemed like a solid wall of silky, cuddly goodness. It looked almost like a pillow, and he almost could feel it. His eyes danced up that beautiful tan colored body up to a fancy white collar. He focused on this big teal puffball at the tip of the collar-- decorated with a long silver sash on each side. He heard a light whisper. He moved his gaze up and then admired this cuddly, soft nose.

"Ahem..."

Brown blinked. He jiggled his head a bit. He then looked out and saw a mare sitting behind an enormous desk. He couldn't help gazing at her face again. His eyes ran from one bright yellow edge to another of her smart, sharp glasses. He then traced along her fluffy gray mane. Streaks of white and grey intertwined together like brush strokes on a beautiful panting. He glanced over at her big, pretty eyes, and he felt as if his heart was wading inside those delicate blue pools.

"A-HEM!"

He blinked again. He seemed to snap out of it. Well, that'd be the first 'perfect ten' that I've seen in this stupid town so far. "Hello," he said. She said nothing back.

He surveyed a little bit more of the room. The tan mare had a frustrated expression on her face-- something too calm to be a scowl but still stronger than a mere frown. Picture after picture decorated the walls behind her and around her. He noticed little marble sculptures of eagles, turtles, volcanoes, and all kind of semi-random things placed all about. He scanned across the bookshelves crammed with all kinds of material over to the little tables littered with papers and then to the cabinets covered in cryptic shorthand labels.

'Send A to the grinder - T.S.'... What in Luna's name could that mean? He looked over from the post-it note twoards the tan mare. She didn't quite seem to know what to say, and that fact irritated her. The mule then leaned over and whispered something to the mare. She nodded.

"The Mayor will just confirm the record, first," the mule said. Brown shrugged. Mayor, eh? I almost wonder if they chose it by beauty contest...

"Name?" she asked. She nudged a clipboard across her desk.

"Newcastle Brown..."

"Occupation?"

"Rabble rouser," he replied, and then he made a big smirk. She glared at him. He gazed back. Her eyelashes fluttered as she shifted her head, and then her mane dropped down over the desk. Each move sent a little pulse inside of Brown. "Uh... brewer..."

"I'd hope so, with that mark," she said. He felt her stare running around his dark, reddish brown body over to his flank. She then eyed the three little mugs filled with sparkly golden-brown liquid. "Very well, then."

"So, Miss Mayor," he muttered, and she shifted around in his spot. He heard two huge stallions step up behind him. "What's the charges, again?"

"Possession of a controlled substance," the Mayor replied, and she moved down her glasses a little bit. Those last two words had an odd mix of three parts curiosity mixed in one part contempt. "I don't think I've been told how you plead."

"My ale," Brown said, and he puffed up like a father describing his champion son, "Pleads guilty to being delicious, malicious, and not the least bit nutritious." He clapped his front hooves together, and he swished his hair across his eyes.

"Well, I'm truly stumped," she said, and she picked herself off of the seat. She stepped over and eyed his whole body once again. In turn, he ran his gaze down her side over to her wonderful poofy grey tail and her cutie mark-- a scroll.

She nudged a little bit closer. Take a picture, sweetheart. It'll last longer. "Your honor, I think that there's been a big mistake. Like I said before many times, I'm just passing through. I'll probably never be here again. I've apologized again and again for that little mishap with Jack."

"Applejack..."

"Right," he stepped a little backward, and he felt two giant hooves against his side, "I understand you have your position, but I have mine. My ale it's..." He strained to find the right word. You'd think that a life dodging the law would make me better at talking out of this stuff, but nope. "It's my life."

"What am I supposed to do with a nifty little number like you?" she asked. She then leaned back against the edge of her desk. Brown took a good look at her chest and belly. She noticed, and she didn't seem particularly pleased. "I'm afraid that, as a matter of precedent, I'm going to take a hard line on you. Your recklessly callous behavoir has to be taken notice of."

"Hard line?" he repeated. I'm not liking where this is going. Goodness, I just thought I'd give a fine or a little community service or something. What kind of podunk ultra-conservative town is this.

"I'm thinking of a number between twenty-nine and thirty-one," the Mayor said, and she curled her body against the side of the desk. Brown didn't know if she was seducing him, teasing him, or just letting her subconsious mind take over. "Now, take your time, Brown."

"Uhhhh..." he muttered, "Thirty?"

"Thirty days in the hole!" the Mayor called out. She snapped upwards and pointed a hoof straight at his face.

"THE HOLE!" Brown screamed back. The giant hooves behind him squeezed closer. "What is this? Don't I get a trial or an appeal or a-- what gives? Thirty days!"

"Administrative edicts such as those regarding controlled substances do not require judicial review," babbled the Mayor. She closed he eyes and then tossed her hoof into the air. "Take him away."

"No, no, this is just, no," he muttered, and he found himself pulled back down the stairs. His long hair dangled about across the floor-- scraping noisily. "Seriously, is this a joke? A prank? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Now, seriously, it's enough." One of the stallions put a hoof around his face, and he blanched.

In just a few moments, the door slammed shut. The Mayor found herself alone once again. She paused, and then she walked over to the small set of windows on the opposite wall. She looked down at the ponies all milling about in the town square. She then sighed.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

"Miss Mayor, are you really going to put him there all... all..." Twilight Sparkle asked. She sat back further in the fluffy red chair and wiggled her bottom hooves. "Thirty days?"

"Oh, goodness no," the Mayor said. She re-sorted the pile of folders across her desk, and then she stood back up straight. "It's called 'scared straight'. Just a few days, or maybe even a matter of hours, and he'll get his tune changed. He'll have his long hair cut." Although, that's be a shame... He looks so great with it up like that. He's so aggressive and so masculine. Goodness, he's less stallion and more animal.

"I don't care what Rarity says," Twilight said, and she wiggled the chair closer to the table, "It was an accident. Applejack said so. She saw it. I saw it. And as for the-- the--" She tried to meet eye to eye with the Mayor, who glanced around from one side of the room to the other. "'Controlled substances' thing? It's just ale, for goodness' sake. Really, how bad could it be?"

"I'm told it's very bad," the Mayor said, and she pressed her hooves against the desk, "That it's horrible stuff, nectar of the devils, that makes little girls abandon their families for the closest party." She shook her head in disgust.

"It's not right," Twilight replied. She got up, and then she placed a small metal something onto the table. "A pony has their own right to follow their own conscience and do what they want." The Mayor idly waved a hoof in the air, and then she pulled open yet another drawer. She heard Twilight step out.

The Mayor sighed. Oh, goodness, I don't even know anymore. I didn't write these laws. I didn't start these stupid little 'edicts'. She eyed at the dirty grey flask at the edge of the desk as if it was an ursula minor about to chomp onto her face. You... you're the cause of all this. Oh, I just can't take it. I either offend a legion of parents with one decision or I step on the hooftips of all of my best friends. Heads I lose, tails I lose. I'm beat up on if I do something, and I'm beat up on if I don't do something.

She closed her eyes, and she pictured the powerful reddish-brown stallion once again. She felt something flutter inside of her when she recalled how his mane dropped across his chiseled face. Oh, what's wrong with me? It's just been too long... way too long for me ever since... I am a mare, after all. She wiggled around. No, I made that promise to myself right when I won once again. I wouldn't risk my position for a stallion, not again.

The Mayor shifted a little, and she opened her eyes. "Buck it," she muttered. I'd rather lose if I DO. She nervously held her hoof over, and then she touched the end of the flask. Well, it's not going to bite.

She pulled the flask over, and then she paused. She took a deep breath, and then she popped the top off. She leaned down and inhaled. A wonderful, stickly sweet caramel flavor burned all through her nose and then moved down her throat. Tingles erupted all over. Pleasure burst out across from the tip of head moving downward. She pressed her face down, and then she licked the mysterious ale.

*Thunk*

The Mayor's body then slumped down along the underside of the desk.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

The mule threw Brown into the dank little cell. He heard the door slam behind him, and then he twisted around. He pressed against the thick, rusty bars. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he stopped. He glanced back, and he surveyed every last decrepit inch of the cell.

Brown coughed. Although they kept everything so dark that he could barely see, he made out an oddly clean darkish blue stall with a toilet and sink. He then ran his eyes over to the plain little bed. For whatever reason, the two pillows had little pink laces littered across its sides. Thick, stubby dressers sat beneath the bed. He coughed again. Well, I've had worse apartments than this... that I PAID for...

"Hey, brother!" Brown shouted. He looked across at the blank white tables and chairs outside the cell.

The Mule eyed him back blankly, and then the Mule put down his box of cookies. "Yes?" he muttered.

"Can I get a magazine?"

To Be Continued