Chapters The early Wednesday afternoon sun shone over the grassy hills surrounding Ponyville, and it made the lake shimmer like a star under its gaze. Ponies could be seen skipping on the stones in the shallow waters, or taking a brisk walk over the bridge and stopping to admire the scenery. The bell at the school could be heard ringing in the distance for the colts and fillies to return inside and resume their lessons and over in the fields, a herd of cows could be seen grazing. Up on the side of one of the hills, resting lazily in the sun were three young stallions, Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder.
Even though all three were nearing nineteen, some of the older generation still tended to treat them like they were schoolcolts, only because they continued, in their eyes at least, to act that way. To some, when a colt was to reach the age of stallionhood, he was to go out and find a reasonable occupation and live out on his own, and not to try and get himself and two of his friends onto a single bicycle and race down a hill. While all three were living in their own residents since they had left school, they hadn’t considered looking for their rightful destinies, even years after achieving their Cutie-Marks; they much preferred to go around town, looking for some new way to enjoy themselves, while also irritating those around them.
They had always been coming up to this secluded area of the hill for years, either to talk about certain ponies, or because there was simply nothing to do, and all the years of sitting there had left their marks in the grass, although the flatten areas had gotten slightly bigger overtime. Pipsqueak was considered the smallest of the trio, but was often the wisest. He would often look through life through a different eye, and was quite philosophical in his mind. Even though he had come down to Ponyville from Trottingham, he hadn’t inherited the lower Middle-Class style of living his parents were accustomed to, he was happy to walk around wearing an open collar shirt and an unbuttoned cardigan, but he still retained the accent.
Featherweight, while already being quite tall for his age when at school, had grown a few more inches since then and he towered over his friends with an air of superiority, and he had always envied Pipsqueak’s upbringing. He was a great believer in studying and understanding how things were to work in the world, even though he had no desire to search for it himself. He had gained his knowledge and love of books when he had worked at the library with Twilight, but he had also taken his slight snobbish attitude from Rarity while working at Carousel Boutique, seeing how the finer ponies were to dress and act, so he was always seen walking in the middle of Pipsqueak and Chowder with a clean shirt, done up tie, with a light brown waistcoat.
Chowder had just drifted through life. He didn’t really have any opinion on life, except that he lived to enjoy it to its fullest. His build was bigger than his friends, but years of being on the schools Rugby team had developed some of his fat into strong muscle. He wasn’t the brightest candle on the candelabra, but years of pulling jokes on Featherweight had given him a very cheeky sense of humour, and the years of back-talking to Featherweight had given him a sharp tongue.
It wasn’t as if Featherweight and Chowder didn't like each other, they just found the other an easy target to criticise; Chowder would often joke about Featherweight’s attempts to look like a gentlecolt out of Canterlot, while Featherweight criticised Chowder for his dress-sense, which always included an old dirty grey hoodie, and wearing a baseball cap perched untidily on his head. Chowder had also developed a crush on Apple Bloom, a member of the original Cutie-Mark Crusaders, and it was usually a daily routine for Pipsqueak and Featherweight to try and restrain Chowder every time he saw her, because they knew his tactics of trying to win her was just pulling her into a kiss, and it had once or twice ended with him having a broken muzzle after she had kicked him in the face.
Featherweight looked over to Chowder who was blowing into his hooves, a blade of grass in-between them, “Do you have any idea about how many unseemly substances could be on that one blade of grass?” he asked. Chowder responded by blowing a raspberry, “Yes, it’ll be covered in that as well.” Featherweight sighed.
Pipsqueak looked up at the afternoon sky, “I think it’ll be a bit warm for Spades this afternoon.” he said quietly.
“Well it usually is when you’re in hospital.” said Featherweight. Spades was a young stallion that they had known since their school days, but for the past few weeks he had been diagnosed with an ailment which hadn’t been seen for centuries and had spent the last month in Ponyville General Hospital, having to be connected to a drip and eating only liquids.
“I thought he was getting better.” said Chowder, pulling his mouth away from his hooves, “Maybe they’ll let him sit outside. Don’t worry; we’ll cheer up him up when we see him tonight.”
“Oh really?” scoffed Featherweight, “Celestia’s gift to the National Health, are you?” he chuckled to himself and turned back to Chowder, “Now listen,” he said sternly, “when we’re there, no more language in front of his mother.”
“That was an emergency!” said Chowder defensively, “My fag dropped into my hoodie.”
“Well you shouldn’t have been smoking in the wards in the first place.” said Featherweight.
Chowder looked at him in shock, “For the whole hour?! What do they expect you to do then?”
“At least have some consideration for Spades’ condition.” said Featherweight, “I mean, he’s had to give up practically everything now.”
“Well, the hospital haven’t been consistent about that.” sneered Chowder, “If they’re trying to cut out everything that’s bad for him, what’s his mother doing there?”
“Maybe he likes her better when he’s under strong medication.” suggested Pipsqueak, “But I’m sure Cillit does have a good heart somewhere."
“She certainly knows how to keep her house tidy.” said Featherweight.
“No wonder, she never lets anypony in the bloody place. Not even Spades' dad when he was alive." said Chowder, “He probably spent the best years of his marriage stuck down in the garden shed!”
“However we can all agree on one thing, Spades has always made the best of a bad situation” said Featherweight, “He’s always managed to keep on his mother’s good side by following her instructions, while at the same time, sneaking out twice a week for an intimate and passionate relationship with Dinky Hooves.”
“She has been good to him, Dinky has.” smiled Chowder, “He’ll be sick if he has to give up that as well.” he chuckled to himself, as he looked down into the valley. At the bottom of the ridge, he could just see a young white mare with a curly pink and purple mane and tail, walking alongside a stone wall, “Hey, that’s Sweetie Belle.” he whispered to the others, “What’s she doing out here?”
“I expect she’s just come out to rid her lungs of the smell of Stripped velvet and the occasional mothball.” said Pipsqueak.
“Well, it’s not really our business to know why she’s up here.” said Featherweight; the other two looked at him, eyebrows raised, “I never said it doesn’t make it more fascinating.” he finished as he leaned over Chowder’s shoulder to get a good look. They followed Sweetie Belle as she stopped at a gap in the wall, as a stallion appeared behind it; a quite rounded turquoise stallion.
“Is that…?” asked Featherweight.
“It is!” said Chowder, almost burst to laughing, “It’s Snips!” he gasped as Sweetie Belle led him behind a tree and out of sight, “That’s the last time I’m letting her near my inner leg, if her hooves have been all over that tragedy." he sniggered.
“Would you get back down, in case they see you.” said Featherweight pulling Chowder back down on the grass, “And put your eyes back in, if they go out any further they’ll roll down the hill.” he added as Chowders eyes were still fixed on the tree.
Eventually they got up and decided it was time to pay Spades a visit. They dusted the loose grass off themselves, and navigated themselves down the steep slope back into town, unaware that life was going to become very difficult and complicated for them that weekend.
Author's Note
This is a separate story that I'm writing when I'm not working on "Rarity's Army".
Hope you enjoy it.
As the trio walked along the bridge outside Ponyville, they stopped to admire the flowing river underneath it. “What do you suppose she sees in him?” asked Featherweight.
“Who sees in who?” Chowder asked back.
“Sweetie Belle and Snips!” Featherweight grumbled, “I mean, you wouldn’t say they were close at school. In fact I think he practically repulsed her. But now there they are, Ponyville’s leading singing sensation and… him, doing Celestia knows what!”
“I would say it was the Opposites Retract Theory.” said Pipsqueak, “I mean you have to look at it in that way, Sweetie Belle has developed and obtained the same grace and poise her sister Rarity has, all eyes darting towards her whenever she enters the room, hearts spinning and turning in a stallion’s chest when she opens her mouth and an angelic note travels to your ears; whereas when Snips enters the room the only thing spinning and turning, is everyponys’ stomach. So I guess it makes sense.”
Chowder and Featherweight turned their heads to look at Pipsqueak, as if saying that what he had just said did not in fact make any sense at all. But they had known Pipsqueak long enough to accept his random theories and not argue with them, because he would always retort with an even bigger and ridiculous theory to back it up.
“So how come that theory doesn’t work for me and Apple Bloom?” asked Chowder, “I’m pretty sure I repulse her, so why isn’t she dragging me behind trees?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say you repulse her, it’s more of an irritation and the fact that you simply exist.” smiled Pipsqueak, “Maybe that’s why it’s not working.”
Chowder lowered his head sadly, but then he perked back up and said, “So what you’re saying is I have to repulse her to win her?”
Featherweight chuckled, walked over to Chowder and put a hoof on his shoulder, “Listen you scruffy twit,” he said, “remember the old saying, ‘If at first you don’t succeed, give up you’ll live longer’.” and with that, he walked off the bridge and followed the road back into Ponyville, Pipsqueak right behind him, giggling while Chowder brought up the rear trying to make sense of everything they had just discussed.
Before they headed for Ponyville General Hospital, they decided to pay a visit to Dinky Hooves and see how she was coping with Spades’ absence. She hadn’t been to see Spades ever since he checked in, and the trio had warned her not to go, because Cillit always sat by his bed everyday and she wasn’t even aware that her son was secretly mating with somepony she never knew existed. Dinky had tried to persuade them that if she explained that her mother was the Mailmare she may be more open to her, but they told her that would not work, ever since her mother had accidently crashed into Cillits’ flowerbed and had caused some of the dirt to fly through the open window and land on her carpet. Cillit spent the whole weekend scrubbing the carpet clean, while Spades spent two nights in the garden shed, but they knew Spades would sneak over to Dinky’s after his mother had gone to bed, and then come back before she woke up.
As they walked up towards Dinkys’ residence, they could see that she had hung out her washing to dry along the front garden, Pipsqueak and Featherweight felt slightly embarrassed as they walked past the wet night gowns and stockings, but Chowder slowed down to get a longer look until Featherweight came back and dragged by the hood up towards the door. Pipsqueak tapped four times.
There she was in the door frame; slim and elegant, completely different from the clumsy filly they knew from school. She had thin, sturdy legs and her light yellow mane, which use to stick up like her mothers’, was now curled and flowed down the length of her neck. She was wearing a silver necklace that Spades had once given her, and a pair of her best earrings; she looked as if she was planning to go somewhere.
“Dinky we keep telling you, it’s no good.” chuckled Pipsqueak, “You can’t go and visit Spades while he’s in hospital, not while Cillit’s there.”
“I wouldn’t mind him being on his own.” Dinky sulked, “But from the way he talks about her, it’s as if she doesn’t even like her own son. Look, come in for a minute.” she smiled, allowing the trio to pass her through the door.
Her sitting room was quite small, but cosy. A small table stood in front of the window with two wooden chairs, and she had one armchair and a sofa squeezed into the space. On the mantelpiece were some little knick-knacks that her mother had brought back from her ‘travels’ with her boyfriend, which included a silver sphere with a slight dent in it, a green object that looked like a seed pod opened out and was burnt around the edges, and above the mantel was a silver futuristic looking weapon with a plaque underneath saying: ‘De-mat Gun: can cause victims to be erased from time’.
“Sit down, I’ll get some glasses.” said Dinky, walking through a side door that led into the kitchen. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder sat down on the sofa, their eyes looking around at the strange objects around them. “Does she stay there for the whole hour?” she called out to them.
“Every minute.” Pipsqueak replied back, “All she ever does is knit.”
Dinky came back out, looking confused, “She goes to visit her son, and all she does is knit?” she asked as the three stallions nodded their heads, “Seriously, she could at least show some compassion for him. Alright, I can’t go and see him, but I have baked him some more of my buns.”
Featherweight sat up straight at hearing this, his eyes widened and looking at Pipsqueak and Chowder, who had the same reaction, “Oh sweet Celestia, not more of her buns.” he whispered. No one had the heart to tell Dinky that her home made buns were less than satisfactory, especially Spades who would always accept one just because she would put so much effort into them; many of his friends use to joke about that was how he got ill in the first place.
Dinky entered back into the room, using her magic to levitate a tray with four glasses on it, four cans of beer and a patterned biscuit tin where she kept the buns, “If you want one, I’ve got plenty.” she told them as she lowered the tray.
“Thanks Dinky, but we’ll just take the beer thank you.” said Chowder, taking a can and glass off the tray.
Pipsqueak filled his glass and lifted it slightly in a toast, “Well, here’s wishing all the best to Spades.” he said as Featherweight and Chowder lifted their glasses as well.
“While you’re over there, can you ask him to write?” asked Dinky, “I’ve only ever had that one letter you got off him.” they watched as she went over to pick up her bag off the floor, Chowder’s eyes followed down from her raised flank to her hindlegs, his mouth open slightly, unaware that while he was pouring his beer, none of it was going In the glass. Dinky sat down in the only remaining chair, unfolded the letter and began to read.
"Dear Dinky.
Dinky’s eyes were slowly welling up with tears as she read it, “It’s been three weeks, and that’s all the news I’ve had.” she said quietly.
“Cheer up, Dinky.” said Pipsqueak, “We’ve been keeping in posted, and don’t worry about Spades, we’ve heard that they’ll be letting him out tomorrow.”
“Well that’s some good news.” Dinky smiled, her eyes going back to the letter, “But who’s this pony with a hernia who knows my mother?”
“You don’t think it’s that one in the corner, do you?” Chowder asked.
“What, with the screens around him?” chuckled Featherweight, “No, they don’t usually put screens around a hernia.”
“Well they put screens around my Uncle Dyson when he went in.” said Chowder.
“Yeah, but maybe it was just compulsory around your Uncle Dyson.” sniggered Pipsqueak, as he poured more beer into his glass.
Author's Note
This is just a quick question for anyone, how exactly are you able to get the bold and italic settings to work in the edit process? It doesn't seem to want to work for me, and I may wish to use it for future chapters.
If anyone knows, comment at the bottom. Thank you.
Down in Ponyville General Hospital, Spades was sitting up in his bed. He was a tall light blue Earth pony with a jet black mane and a shovel for a Cutie Mark, however these days his face looked more pale blue than anything else, and he had dark heavy lidded eyes and spent all his time being hooked up to a drip by his bed, and this was all due to a terminal condition that he had been diagnosed with over a month ago called Skagcalon, which slowly damaged the cells around the heart and it hadn’t been seen for centuries. He knew what this all meant, even when his mother constantly assured him it was in his imagination; with the help of Princess Twilight Sparkle and remedies from Zecora in the Everfree Forest, the doctors had managed to create a medicine that slowed down the process, and they had also told him that even thought his condition had steadied, there was still a possibility that the slightest bit of excitement could actually kill him, so he was advised that when he was let out tomorrow he was not to exert himself anymore, and to make regular appointments so that they could see if there was any more progress in his health.
His mother, Cillit Ariel always sat by his bedside, with a pair of knitting needles. She had quite a stern bony face and she wore a pink hat over his brown mane, which she dyed every week to cover up her greys. Spades didn’t mind her visits, his only wish was that when she did come she would actually cheer him up, instead she would just tell him about that week’s business and it would bore him so much, he thought he would die of boredom than his heart. She wouldn’t ask how he was feeling or if he needed anything, she had just sat down and started telling him that his cousin Rumble had come over to ask for his gardening tools.
Spades was only half-listening to her. His head turned to look out the window to see two birds fly past and his eyes fell upon a couple on the other side of the ward. The mare sitting next to the stallion in bed was having an animated chat with him, laughing and patting his hoof. Spades sighed, wishing that Dinky was here as well; he missed her comforts and their special times together.
Just then loud talking could be heard coming up the corridor and the doors to the ward opened. Pipsqueak, Chowder and Featherweight walked in, and waved at Spades. Spades gave a nod, but his face froze in shock as he saw the tin Chowder was balancing on his back; he recognized it as one of Dinky’s ,which meant she had sent him some of her horrible buns. He had been telling his mother that he had been making them, but he wasn’t sure if she believed him.
“Hey Spades!” Chowder shouted down the hall waving madly until Featherweight gave him a slap across the head.
“Would you keep your voice down?” he hissed as they neared the bed.
Cillit looked up at the trio, her eyes narrowed. Of all the friends her son had, she had no patience for these three. Ever since they were colts, they would always be up to something uncouth and dangerous and worst of all, unclean. She was always reluctant to let Spades go out and play with them because he would come back covered in dirt or wet which would get over her clean carpets. When they got close to the bed, Chowder put the tin down on Spades’ stomach. “And who baked them then?” asked Cillit, suspiciously.
“He did.” said all three stallions together; Pipsqueak pointed his hoof at Chowder, Chowder pointed to Featherweight and Featherweight pointed at Pipsqueak. They all quickly lowered their hooves and Chowder quickly said, “It was joint; we all did a bit.” Cillit still didn’t look convinced so Chowder quickly changed the subject, “That’s a very nice hat, Cillit. Don’t we like Cillit’s hat boys?”
Cillit’s nostrils flared a little. Even though they had reached the age where they were entitled to call her in a first name basis, she had always preferred them to call her ‘Mrs Ariel’ like they used to do when they had been in school.
“Ravishing as ever.” smiled Pipsqueak leaning next to Spades, “And that’s only your son."
Chowder looked over Pipsqueak’s shoulder and tutted, “He don’t look well.” he sighed. Pipsqueak looked back at him exasperated and took the seat next to Spades.
“There are only supposed to be two to a bed.” Cillit said darkly, as Chowder pulled up a seat next to Pipsqueak and Featherweight sat down next to her.
“Yeah, but I’ve always wanted to try a threesome.” laughed Chowder until Pipsqueak gave him a quick kick in the side of his hindleg. As Chowder rubbed the sore part, Cillit had picked up the tin and was trying to get it opened, “Careful, that’s my best tin!” Chowder said quickly not realising what he had just said.
“Would you mind if I tried to open it?” said Featherweight, trying anything to get the tin away from Cillit, but she smacked his hoof away.
“So it’s your tin is it, Young Chowder?” she asked, her eyebrow raised suspiciously, “Then what picture is on the lid?”
Chowder looked across the bed at Featherweight, whose eyes were darting down at the tin all the time. He looked over at Pipsqueak who was just as confused as him. Featherweight tried to attract his attention from behind Cillit’s shoulder, mouthing the answer, but Chowder was not good at this sort of thing, “Sugarcube Corner!” he said, but Featherweight quickly shook his head, “… is what they usually put on there, but it’s really…” he looked back at Featherweight who was slowly mouthing ‘Canterlot Labyrinth’ at him, “Canterlot Library and a fish” Chowder said smiling.
“’Labyrinth’ you twat.” Featherweight hissed quietly.
“Labyrinth you twat!” Chowder said loudly and quickly.
“I’ll take him outside, there is only meant to be two to a bed.” said Featherweight standing up from his seat, and he grabbed Chowder by the hood and dragged him out of the ward, leaving Pipsqueak with Spades and his mother.
“You know it’s funny how these buns look and taste almost exactly like yours, Spades.” said Cillit, suspiciously as she picked up one of the buns and taking a bite out of it.
Spades looked over to Pipsqueak for support, “Well… Spades gave us the recipe.” said Pipsqueak quickly, “He gave it to us to see if we can improve them.”
Cillit still didn’t look convinced as she put the bun back in the tin. Spades leaned into Pipsqueak, “Look, can I have your word?” he asked "I want to get rid of a few things before I die, but Mum doesn’t approve of my decisions, but I want my cousin Rumble to have my gardening tools.”
“I’ll pass the word onto him, don’t worry.” said Pipsqueak, looking over at Cillit who sniffed.
“Also, I’m allowing Chowder to have the suit I wore to our graduation ceremony.” Spades continued.
“Chowder?” said Pipsqueak in disbelief, “Why him?”
“Can you think of anypony else who needs some new clothes without paying for them?” sniggered Spades. Pipsqueak had to agree, Chowder rarely ever left his house without that old grey hoodie.
“I keep telling there’s no need, he’s not going to die.” said Cillit.
“I may be ill Mum, but even I can tell I’m not the same anymore.” retorted Spades.
“The Doctors have already done their bit, you’re going to be fine when you get home tomorrow.” Cillit replied back. Spades and Pipsqueak looked at each other with solemn expressions.
The next morning, Pipsqueak, Chowder and Featherweight met up in the town square at 11 O’clock, and decided to go see if Spades was home yet. Spades and his mother lived in a small cottage just outside Ponyville. Like most of the houses, it was quite simple with a front garden and a low wall circling it. They could see Cillit through the living room window polishing, so Featherweight pushed the gate open to let them into the garden. The gate squeaked loudly, enough for Cillit to hear it through the open window. She rolled her eyes when she saw who it was, and went to open the door, but stood in the frame, barring them entrance.
“Morning Cillit, is Spades home yet?” Featherweight asked.
“No he isn’t.” said Cillit, as politely as she could, but still glaring at them.
“But we thought he was coming home today.” said Pipsqueak.
“There isn’t an ambulance cart available until this afternoon.” Cillit informed them.
Featherweight eyes opened wider as an idea came to him, “So he could come home early, if he had some transport? Well, we’ll offer to collect him for you. I happen to know where we get a cart.”
“Are you quite sure you can handle it?” asked Mr Cake. They were now standing outside SugarCube Corner asking Mr Cake if they could borrow his delivery cart. At that moment, the sound of gravel could be heard from behind the store, as PoundCake came into view pulling the cart. Even though he was younger than the trio, (He and his twin sister PumpkinCake had just celebrated their eleventh birthday as well as getting his Cutie Mark, which were two muffins) he was always happy to get involved in their little schemes and tricks, which would often get on his mother’s nerves.
The cart in question was very different from all the other carts in Ponyville. The Cakes’ one was practically a small kitchen on wheels; it was twice as wide as a normal cart with a small oven, and cupboards were built in on either side of it and even on poles above it, full of ingredients, utensils and cookery books. It had been built so that the Cakes could expand their business to other areas around Equestria and leave home to sell in the big cities like Canterlot or Manehatten. It looked extremely heavy with all of this installed, however Twilight had managed to perform a weight-less spell on it so that it would be easier for Mr Cake to pull.
Pipsqueak shuffled nervously under the harness; as he was the only one with a cart license, he had to pull it while Chowder and Featherweight climbed aboard. “We’ll bring it back in good condition Mr Cake, don’t worry!” Featherweight called out just as Pipsqueak started pulling, which jerked the cart forward almost knocking Chowder and Featherweight off balance. Mr Cake and PondCake gave nervous glances at each other as the sound of clattering and banging of baking trays made its’ way up the main street.
Spades was soon issued out of the hospital. He thanked the doctors and nurses for what they had done, Chowder picked up his packed suitcase and they led him out of the ward and into the bright sunshine. “I’ve been told to lay off certain things from now on.” he told Pipsqueak, “I’m not allowed any cakes, exercise or anything that could set my heart off.”
“So I guess your little night time fun with Dinky will fall into that category.” sniggered Pipsqueak. Spades eyes widen with horror at these words.
“Hey guys!” came a voice outside the gate to the hospital. The four of them looked over to see a dragon standing there, wearing a purple blazer and the spikes on his head were gelled down so that they curved down his back, and he was carrying a bag full of scrolls of parchment, quills and a fresh bottle of ink.
“Alright Spike?” Chowder called, “Princess Twilight still got you on scroll duty has she?”
“Hey, at least I’m working.” Spike called back, “You don’t see me living off gambling winnings like someponies.”
“Hey, I may have hit a few bumps recently.” said Chowder, sounding quite hurt, “But I promise you, tomorrow’s rabbit race will have me raking it in!”
“So anyway, nice to see you out Spades.” said Spike, putting the scrolls under his left arm so that he could shake Spades hoof, “Twilight’s been keeping me up to date on your condition. Shame you may have to…”
“He knows.” chuckled Pipsqueak.
“Well anyway, see ya guys. Got to get back to the castle.” said Spike, and he turned on his heel and walked back through the gates and down through the back streets. Spades then climbed into the cart with Featherweight and Chowder and Pipsqueak pulled the cart out through the gate as well and down the opposite road.
As the cart rumbled down the country road out of Ponyville, Chowder had gotten his cigarettes out and was handing them out to Featherweight and Spades. Spades took a slow breathe in, and an even slower exhale. “It’s an alright day to come out.” he said looking up at the blue sky.
“Don’t hold on to it too long.” said Featherweight, “The Pegasi have promised rain later.”
Spades wasn’t listening. His eyes were wandering towards a side road that was getting nearer. “Turn right here!” he suddenly shouted. Pipsqueak saw the road and turned his body towards it sharply. The cart rocked violently, knocking Spades, Featherweight and Chowder off their hooves, as some of the cupboards flew open and pans and bowls came flying out and crashing to the floor. Spades pulled himself up and then shouted for Pipsqueak to stop. Pipsqueak skidded across the road and the cart turned slightly to the right, almost toppling over.
Featherweight pulled himself up, looking dishevelled with a mixing bowl on his head. “What are you doing?” he hissed at Spades.
“What about my ashes?” asked Spades.
“Well just flick them over the side of the cart.” suggested Pipsqueak.
“Not my cigarette ashes.” groaned Spades, “I meant my ashes. I told my mum I want to be cremated when I’ve snuffed it.”
“Look mate.” said Chowder, wiping leaked flour off his front, “We’re all gonna snuff it if you’re going to be stopping the cart like that.”
Spaded said nothing; he just climbed out of the cart and walked through an open gate next to the road. They had stopped on a hillside next to a field that looked out over the entire valley. Ponyville was just below them to the left, the Everfree Forest could just be seen in front of them, and the city of Canterlot was on the right.
Spades walked over to the edge of the field before it started to travel downwards, looking over the landscape. “This is it.” he said to Pipsqueak, Chowder and Featherweight who had joined him, “I want you to promise to scattered them just here. I can see everything up here, so I’ll know where I am.”
“You really are quite serious about this dying business, aren’t you Spades?” said Pipsqueak, quietly.
“I know I was never the smartest colt.” Spades answered back, “But I can tell my time’s almost up, so please, promise this.” he asked them, a little bit of a plea in his voice.
“We promise, Spades.” said Featherweight. Spades smiled back at them and they headed back towards the cart.
Soon the cart pulled up outside Spades’ house. Chowder picked his suitcase while Featherweight and Pipsqueak helped him down carefully and they walked him towards the door. Chowder was about to knock on the door when Spades stopped him, “There is something else I want you to promise to do.” he whispered to them in case his mother was hearing, “I want you to come back here after dark when my mother’s gone to bed. I need you to sneak me down to Dinky Hooves’”
“What?” Pipsqueak whispered in shock, “You’re not ready for Dinky just yet.”
“No Spades, you need to get some rest, until you’re back in shape.” said Chowder, “Wait another two weeks and then you can go.”
“Look.” said Spades, in a threatening whisper, “I’ve been in that hospital for a month. I’ve got four weeks of steam and passion built up, and now that I’m out I need to release it.”
“But you’re not supposed to do anything that’s going to get your heart racing.” said Featherweight, “That could greatly affect your condition”
“Ok, I’ll do it slowly then, just please, promise me.” said Spades, holding his front hooves up as if in prayer.
Before any of them could answer, the door opened, and Cillit emerged, “I thought I heard voices.” she said as her eyes fell upon Spades, who quickly lowered his hooves. “Well get indoors Spades, I’ve got your bed ready upstairs.” and she picked up his suitcase and walked back in. Spades followed her but as he was about to close the door, he whispered, “Please, I’m relying on you.” to the trio until finally closing the door, leaving Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder giving uneasy looks at each other.
As the moon shone down over Ponyville, Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder crept out slowly from a side street and began walking slowly through the empty town, Pipsqueak pushing his old bicycle alongside them. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” asked Featherweight.
“I think it’s a bad idea.” Pipsqueak sighed, “But Spades is counting on us to be there.”
Chowder looked up at the night sky as a faint rumbling sound could be heard in the distance, “Sounds like thunder’s coming.” he said to himself.
“There certainly will be thunder if Cillit catches us.” muttered Featherweight as they approached the bridge leaving Ponyville.
They rounded a curve and headed down towards Spades’ house. “Shh, wait!” Featherweight hissed as they drew nearer to the house. He indicated to the living room window, where the light was still on from behind the blinds, “We need to wait until she’s gone to bed as well.” he whispered while Pipsqueak propped his bicycle on the wall. A few seconds later, the light went out, and Featherweight looked at his watch. “Right, we’ll give it fifteen minutes.” he whispered.
“We can’t just stand out here for fifteen minutes!” said Pipsqueak.
“Why not? It’s a perfectly normal thing to do, we just try not to look suspicious.” said Featherweight.
“Well I’m sorry Feathers, but I feel suspicious.” Pipsqueak whispered, “And he can’t help looking suspicious.” he pointed his hoof at Chowder.
“It’s just a knack you pick up.” giggled Chowder.
“Well unless you two can think of a better solution, I’d like to hear it.” grumbled Featherweight. Pipsqueak and Chowder sighed; there was no point in arguing with him when he got stroppy, so they moved in closer to each other, and just stood in the same spot for fifteen minutes, not talking and not moving.
Finally, Featherweight looked at his watch again, patted Pipsqueak and Chowder on the shoulders, and they moved slowly over to the gate. “Now try to be careful.” he hissed, but Chowder was already pushing the gate open, and the squeak of its hinges filled the air. Chowder opened it wider and quicker to stop the noise. He gave a weak smile to Pipsqueak and Featherweight, who both gave him a slap across the head as they passed through the gate and down the garden path.
Spades’ bedroom was situated on the right side of the house. As Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder peered slowly around the corner; they could see a patch of light bathing a section of the path leading into the garden. They stood in its glow and Chowder threw a small pebble at the upstairs window. Spades’ head peered through the curtains, his eyes scanning the area, until he saw the trio standing in the light. “What kept you?” he hissed as he opened the window. He was wearing one of his old jackets that his mother made him wear for formal occasions, over his striped blue pyjamas and dark blue slippers. They could now see just how pale he was looking in the moonlight.
“Well excuse us for not having the magical ability to send your mother to bed whenever we can.” whispered Featherweight, as he went to the garden shed to fetch a ladder.
“And if we did have that power, I’d have had Apple Bloom over to my place ages ago.” Chowder butted in cheekily. Pipsqueak gave him a sharp prod and they both went to help Featherweight with the ladder.
“Are you sure we can’t persuade you to postpone this?” Featherweight asked as they held the ladder steady while Spades carefully pulled himself out of the window and began descending the ladder to the ground.
“Sorry. My mind’s made up, and I need to do this.” Spades breathed, scared to raise his voice any higher, in fear that his mother may hear him. When all four of his hooves were on the ground, the four stallions crept back up the path, through the still open gate, Spades then hopped onto Pipsqueak’s bike, while Pipsqueak held onto the handles and Chowder steadied the back and they slowly manoeuvred the bicycle down the path stone path and headed back into Ponyville.
Featherweight was moving further ahead of them, guiding them down the streets and making sure that no one was watching. Once in a while, he would stop and wonder what route to go down next, and move them in-between the houses like a game of ‘Pac-Pony’. Spades was beginning to realise what was going on when they found themselves on the road leading them into the main square, but Featherweight decided to take them down a side street and walk behind the shops. “Why are we taking the long route, what’s stopping us going straight on?” he whispered to Featherweight as Pipsqueak pushed the bike alongside him.
“Well, I don’t what to risk going past the police station, not with all those bright lights.” answered Featherweight and carried on walking.
Pipsqueak gave a deep sigh as he started pushing and looked up the moon just in time to see it covered by the clouds. “Luna, please have mercy on this damn fool pony, as he is being wheeled on a bicycle to a night of unintended and rash thinking passion.” he prayed quietly. The words had barely left his mouth, when a small drop of rain could be felt falling into his mane, suddenly a downpour started and soon all four of them were soaked to their skin. “Alright, be that way then.” Pipsqueak muttered as they picked up their pace and were almost running down the street.
The long route took them about ten minutes to get to Dinky’s house. When she saw them all standing there dripping wet, she ushered them all in, gave Spades a hug and a passionate kiss, and told them that they could all hang their clothes over the fire to dry. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder did feel a bit embarrassed to strip down in a mare’s home, so she went upstairs to get them some spare clothes to wear, told them where the beer was if they wanted any and then dragged Spades upstairs to her bedroom without a backwards glance at the trio standing in her hallway.
Soon the fire was crackling in the grate, their clothes were draped over the grille which had been pulled away from the fire, far enough for the clothes to dry but not too close to catch alight. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder sat around the circular table, wearing the clothes Dinky had brought down for them. Pipsqueak was wearing a pink fluffy dressing gown, Featherweight wore a yellow flower patterned winter cardigan and Chowder wore a pair of light blue silk pyjamas.
“It’s quite cosy in here, isn’t it?” said Featherweight, his eyes looking around the living room peacefully.
“Yeah, but it’s not as cosy as where Spades is.” chuckled Chowder, and they raised their glasses of beer to the ceiling, where a slow thumping noise could be heard above their heads.
As the rain continued to pour, and the thunder and lightning echoed throughout the town during the next hour, Pipsqueak had managed to find a set of cards on the top of Dinky’s side cabinet, but as he was dealing out the cards, the thunder roared loudly, followed by a piercing scream of terror from upstairs. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder sat rigid in their seats, not daring to breathe, until another scream came again, so they leapt out of their chairs, threw the door open and bolted up the stairs, just as Dinky came running out of her bedroom, sobbing uncontrollably. She threw her hooves around Pipsqueak’s shoulder and cried loudly, as Pipsqueak patted her, awkwardly. “It’s Spades!” she gasped in between sobs. “He’s not waking up! I… I think he’s dead!”
“Dead?” Chowder whispered, as Pipsqueak gave Ditzy a comforting cuddle, while Featherweight moved past them, and led them back into the bedroom.
There was Spades, lying in Dinky’s bed, his right hoof outstretched next to him, his eyes closed and a big grin across his face. “Now, come on Spades.” said Pipsqueak nervously, as he shook the bed slightly, “You can stop messing with us now.” Spades made no reply.
“Look Spades, the joke’s gone far enough, just stop it!” said Chowder, his voice going higher than usual. Again, Spades didn’t move. Chowder was starting to get frightened now.
Featherweight moved up alongside the bed, lifted Spades’ hoof and began feeling for a pulse. He then looked over at his terrified friends, and shook his head.
The clock chimed one in the morning as the rain continued to pound against the window. Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Chowder and Dinky sat around the small table in the living room, each with a cup of strong tea Pipsqueak had made when they had come back downstairs. They all sat in silence, sipping their tea quietly, while Dinky blew her nose in her handkerchief.
“I’ll never get that image out of my head.” said Pipsqueak, running his hoof through his mane, “When I saw him lying there, I just stood there and thought, ‘Spades, you tactless twat’.”
“He’s really got us in trouble now.” said Chowder, “I swear the git thinks it’s funny. Did you see his face?”
“He just wanted some comfort.” Dinky sniffed.
“Well judging by his expression, I think he found it.” said Featherweight, giving off a slight giggle, but when nopony joined in, he went back to drinking his tea. “This is going to be a shock to his mother.” he said to himself.
Pipsqueak spluttered into his cup. “Oh bloody hell! How are we going to tell Cillit?” Everypony turned their heads to him. “Well don’t look at me, I’m not doing it!” he said, leaning away from them in his chair.
“Well look, you do hear stories of ponies dying in bed anyway.” said Featherweight.
“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be your own bloody bed!” said Pipsqueak loudly, standing up from his chair.
“Boys, please!” said Dinky before an argument could break out, “I think Spades ought to go back to his mother’s. It just doesn’t feel right, him being here now. I’ve never cared for Cillit’s attitude, but I won’t want to embarrass her with this. You’re just gonna have to take him home.”
“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” asked Chowder.
“The same way you got him here in the first place.” said Dinky firmly, “I’ve never turned Spades down before, and I don’t like doing it now, but we all know where he needs to be right now, and it isn’t here!” and she walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder sitting by the table, looking dumbfounded.
The rain had finally stopped, but there was still a cold breeze in the air. They changed back into their warm, dry clothes and went upstairs to try and get Spades’ clothes back on him. It was quite tricky to get his limp hooves through the sleeves of his jacket, but they managed it in the end, and Pipsqueak picked up Spades by lifting him by his forelegs, and Chowder picked up his hindlegs, and they manoeuvred him out of Dinky’s bedroom, down the stairs and out through the front door where Featherweight was waiting.
The next difficult part was trying to get him to sit on the bike properly. Pipsqueak held onto the handles, while Featherweight and Chowder tried to get Spades to sit properly, but he kept slouching forward, with one hoof dangling over the side of the bike. “We can’t wheel him through the streets like that.” whispered Featherweight, “It needs to look convincing.”
“Well don’t tell me, tell him!” hissed Chowder, pointing at Spades’ limp body.
“Is it too late for me to take back what I said earlier and tell Cillit what we’ve done?” asked Pipsqueak, as he propped his bicycle back up against the wall, and tried his hoof at making Spades sit up straight. “It’s no good.” he said at last, leaving Spades to drop forward, “We’re gonna have to borrow Mr Cakes’ cart again.”
“Oh I’m sure he let us have it!” said Chowder sarcastically, “Just go up to Sugarcube Corner, knock on the door and say, ‘So sorry to wake you Mr Cake, but can we borrow your cart so we can drive our mate Spades’ dead body back home from his marefriend’s house, where we snuck him off to so he could get lucky?’. Yeah, that’ll work!”
“Who says we need to ask Mr Cake for the cart?” said Featherweight, quietly.
“No, I’m not stealing it, I draw the line at stealing!” said Pipsqueak.
“I’m not suggesting we steal it.” said Featherweight, thinking of how he could say it better, “I mean, why don’t we ask somepony else that we can borrow it?”
Pound Cake was sleeping heavily, when he felt something nudging his right shoulder. He rolled over, and could just make out his twin sister through his half-closed eyes. “Pounds, I think I hear something at the window.” Pumpkin Cake whispered.
Pound Cake groaned and rolled over. He still didn’t like the idea of having to share a room with his sister, and was always pestering his parents to let him move into the spare room, but they always told him no, due to the fact that it was being used as a storage area for their goods. He was just about to drift off again, when a louder tap came at the window. Pound Cake sat up straight, staring at the closed curtains. “Should we get Mum or Dad?” he asked, but Pumpkin Cake used her magic to lift him out of his bed and drop him onto the floor. Muttering to himself, he walked slowly over to the curtains, pulled them apart slightly and peered down into the street. A young stallion, standing next to a bicycle was waving at him to come outside. “It’s Pipsqueak.” said Pound Cake, as his vision got clearer.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Pumpkin Cake.
“I’ll go and find out.” yawned Pound Cake as he walked over to the door to the landing. He looked over to his parents’ bedroom down the hall and then walked carefully towards the stairs making sure not to wake them.
Pipsqueak gave Pumpkin Cake a little wave as she peered through the curtains suspiciously. The sound of a doorbell jingling caught his attention as Pound Cake opened the door and staggered out slightly towards him. “I was trying to make sure I didn’t wake your sister.” said Pipsqueak calmly as Pound Cake looked up at him, looking groggy.
“Really good idea, seeing as her bed is nearest to the window.” said Pound Cake, irritably as he stifled a yawn, “What is it Pips? Can’t you tell me tomorrow?”
Pipsqueak opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes fell upon the shape of Pumpkin Cake still looking through the window, so he led Pound Cake around the back of the shop so they couldn’t be seen and explained the situation.
Three minutes later, Pound Cake crept back into the shop and was about to close the door when the lights switched on. He turned around to see his parents looking down at him sternly; his father wore a tartan dressing gown over his pyjamas and a night cap, while his mother had curlers in her hair and a pink night gown. “Your sister has just woke us up to tell us that you’ve just been outside talking to Pipsqueak.” said Mr Cake, slowly, “Care to tell us why, son?”
“Tattletale.” Pound Cake muttered to himself. He then caught his mother’s eye and said quickly, “It was nothing.”
“Don’t lie to us young colt!” said Mrs Cake, her voice rising, “That must have been some reason for him to want to talk with you at this hour on a school night!”
“I’m telling you, it was nothing.” said Pound Cake, defensively, “He just wanted to tell me that that their friend Spades has just died.”
Mr and Mrs Cake’s expressions softened at this news. “Oh, poor soul.” said Mrs Cake, her hoof on her chest, “This must be terrible for his mother.”
“Well, it wasn’t unexpected.” said Mr Cake as he put a comforting hoof around his wife.
Pound Cake saw this as an opportunity to go back upstairs, but was then stopped when his mother stood on his tail with one of her hindlegs. “Why would he come and tell you?” she asked, looking suspicious again.
“Maybe he just wanted to tell somepony?” said Pound Cake as he pulled his tail free, “Can I go back to bed? I’ve got school tomorrow.”
“We haven’t finished with this!” Mrs Cake shouted after his retreating back as he climbed back up the stairs.
Pound Cake ignored her, but he came to a stop at the landing, and leaned against the wall. “Poor Spades.” he muttered quietly, “Dead, and now left in the hooves of those three.” He gave a little shudder and went back to bed.
Pipsqueak lay squatting behind the cart, as he waited for the light in the shop to go out. When he made sure everything was quiet, he attached himself to the harness and pulled out of the small open area the Cakes parked the cart. He made his way as quickly, but quietly as he could back to Dinky’s, where Featherweight and Chowder were waiting, with a rolled up carpet, which Pipsqueak suspected was actually Spades. He unhooked himself and helped his friends move the body onto the cart and stowed it in a little cubby under the workbench. After that was done, Featherweight and Chowder climbed into the cart as well, Pipsqueak places the harness back on, and they set off through the dark town.
They once again decided to avoid the open road, so they were now travelling back down the side roads, making sure that they were not seen. As Pipsqueak made a sharp left turn, the carpet rolled open, and Spades’ hoof flopped out and touched Chowder’s hoof. Chowder gave a high scream and kicked the hoof away. “Will you shut up?” sighed Pipsqueak.
“I’ve just had a dead pony’s hoof touch me, how would you like it?” cried Chowder, his voice going high again, and he put his hoof on Pipsqueak’s neck, causing him to let out a scream and to start swerving around the road.
“Will you pack it in?!” hissed Featherweight, hitting Chowder as Pipsqueak gained control, “We nearly had an accident.”
“I know. He nearly had kittens.” said Chowder, as Pipsqueak breathed heavily, his heart thumping loudly as they neared the edge of the town.
They brought the cart to a quiet halt outside Spades’ house. The lights were all still out, so Pipsqueak unhooked himself and helped Chowder move the rolled up carpet from under the workbench and backed slowly towards the gate, holding one end and Chowder on the other, Featherweight took up the rear. “If anypony asks, we’re just carpet sellers, going about their business.” said Pipsqueak, in a mock voice of Featherweight’s. Chowder gave a slight chuckle as they pushed the squeaking gate open.
The ladder was still propped up against the window when they returned to Spades’ window. They unrolled the carpet, revealing Spades’ still grinning face. “Now Pipsqueak, you climb the ladder first and get into the bedroom.” said Featherweight, “I’ll hold onto Spades’ legs and fly him up slowly, and Chowder will then climb the ladder with Spades on his shoulders, that way we’ll be able to keep him straight as we pass him through the window.”
Pipsqueak nodded slowly, and started to climb the ladder. He pulled himself through the window, and leaned out ready. Chowder balanced Spades’ limp body on his shoulders as he started to climb up after him, and Featherweight slowly began to flap his wings while holding tightly onto Spades’ legs. The two of them managed to keep the body as straight as they could, and when they reached the window, Pipsqueak grabbed hold of Spades’ forelegs and pulled him in, while Featherweight pushed from behind.
As Featherweight helped Chowder through the window and closed the curtains, Pipsqueak flicked the lights on. Spades was now lying sprawled on his bed. “Oh Celestia, get a brush, he’s covered in fluff from that carpet.” Featherweight hissed as he pulled off Spades’ wet slippers.
“He’s only been dead for five minutes, and look at the state he’s in.” whispered Pipsqueak as he brushed Spades’ jacket.
Featherweight went to the other side of the room and opened the wardrobe door, where he spotted a spare hanger. He looked over at Pipsqueak and Chowder, who were just pulling his jacket off and then they threw it over to him. He placed back on the hanger, and closed the wardrobe, which gave a loud slam. “Spades, what are you doing up?” came the voice of Cillit from the down the hall.
The trio froze where they stood, praying she wasn’t going to get out of bed and investigate. “Sorry, mum.” yawned Pipsqueak, mimicking Spades’ voice. “I’ll just go back to bed.”
“Good.” came Cillit’s voice, “I want you to try and get better, and no more talk about dying.” Featherweight rolled his eyes and waved for Pipsqueak and Chowder to follow him back out the window. Pipsqueak knocked the light off as Chowder tucked Spades into bed, and they followed Featherweight through the open window, and back down the ladder, leaving a ray of moonlight to come through the curtain, and land on Spades’ grinning features.
Grey clouds hung in the air over Ponyville next morning. Colts and fillies jumped in the puddles as they made their way to school and in Sugarcube Corner during the morning breakfast rush, Mrs Cake’s eyes couldn’t move away from the three stallions that were sitting in the far corner. She placed the money in the till, and slowly went forward to clean some of the tables, her ears open to the conversation they were having.
“Well, it wasn’t our fault.” said Featherweight, in a reassuring whisper as he drank his tea, “I mean, he insisted that we took him to Dinky’s. He wanted to go.”
“And I wonder how he feels about that decision this morning.” muttered Pipsqueak.
“But what a climax to end your life on.” Chowder sniggered.
“Well he obviously knew what he was doing.” said Featherweight, a small smirk showing up on his face, “Yes, he launched himself from Dinky Hooves like a high cliff.”
“Leaving us to pick up the pieces at the bottom.” finished Pipsqueak.
“I can still see that daft grin on his face.” said Chowder, leaning forward, “I swear, he was looking happier dead than he did alive.” Chowder then looked up, and nodded slightly as Featherweight and Pipsqueak turned their necks to look in that direction.
Mrs Cake was now standing quite close to them cleaning one of the tables, and even though her back was turned, her ears were pricked up and listening. She turned around just to see their heads swivel back into place and walked back over to the counter. When she had moved away, Chowder pulled out a newspaper from his hoodie. “You’re not betting on the rabbits today, are you?” asked Featherweight, sounding exasperated.
“Well I’m gonna need a new suit for the funeral, aren’t I?” said Chowder, flattening the paper.
“You don’t need a new suit for the funeral.” Pipsqueak whispered in his ear, “Because Spades has left you his from our graduation ceremony.”
Chowder looked up from his paper and turned to Pipsqueak. “Me?” he whispered, pointing at himself, “He’s left me his… was he wearing that navy blue one at our graduation?” and when they nodded, a huge grin came across his face, “Hey, now that wasn’t a bad looking suit. I wish you told me last night, I got have brought it home with me.”, at these last words, Featherweight and Pipsqueak gave Chowder a smack across the head, “What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his head.
“We didn’t see Spades last night.” whispered Featherweight, pulling him closer towards him.
“We never went near him.” Pipsqueak then whispered, pulling Chowder towards him now.
“Which is why we could not get your suit?” Featherweight continued, pulling him back towards him again.
“Because we were not there!” Pipsqueak finished.
Chowder straightened his hoodie as his friends stared at him. “I got it.” he said, and he started to get up from his seat.
“Where are you going?” asked Featherweight.
“Going over to Cillit’s to ask for the suit.” said Chowder, and Pipsqueak pulled him back into his seat, and they gave him another hit across the head. “What did I do now?” he asked, offensively.
“You can’t just go over to Cillit’s and ask for the suit!” said Featherweight quickly.
“It’s my suit!”
“Yes, but we are not supposed to know yet, that he, is, dead!” Featherweight snarled through gritted teeth.
“We have to wait, until we hear about it through the proper channels, and then we act surprised.” said Pipsqueak simply, “Now do you understand?”
Chowder looked at them and slumped in his chair, “You know what, he can keep his suit, if it’s gonna be all this trouble.”
Featherweight and Pipsqueak sighed, got up from their seats and dragged Chowder out of the store, with Chowder protesting all the way. Mrs Cake’s eyes followed them, her eyebrows raised suspiciously.
Later that day, the trio decided to take a walk to clear their heads, and before long they found themselves coming close to their old school. They leaned over the wall and looked over the playground, seeing the young fillies and colts skipping and running around the place. In the window, they could see that Miss Cheerilee was still there behind the desk, marking that morning maths test.
“You know, sometimes I do miss those days in school.” sighed Chowder, “Being told off for not doing homework, spending time in detention, putting the occasional frog down a girl’s tail.”
Pipsqueak and Featherweight looked over at him. “And the good times were?” asked Featherweight.
“Well at least they were better than spending your afternoons in photography club.” said Chowder.
“There was nothing wrong with photography club!” Featherweight snapped, suddenly. “You only have a go at it, because you got kicked out on your first day, for trying to take pictures of Summer Lily in the changing room with the close up lens!”
Before an argument could start, Pipsqueak cleared his throat to get their attention and pointed over the other side of the wall. Pound Cake was there looking at them, sternly. “You three were bloody lucky last night!” he hissed.
“You shouldn’t be using language like that!” said Featherweight, looking shocked.
“You’re lucky I was able to think of an excuse to cover up why Pipsqueak was there. I nearly got grounded for it!”
“Anyway thanks for the cart, Pound Cake.” said Featherweight, “But we’re not out of this yet. Until the news gets out formally, we’re on thin ice.”
“Yeah, imagine what would happen if Princess Twilight finds out.” said Pound Cake, sniggering darkly.
Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder shushed him and looked over their shoulders, hoping she wasn’t behind them. Even though she was now a princess, Twilight still resided in Ponyville, and would often get regular reports on what was going on the small town. “That’s the last thing we want, having the Royals involved.” said Featherweight, “I really don’t want to be brought up in front of Princess Celestia, on possible murder charges.”
“We didn’t kill him, Featherweight, it was his decision.” said Pipsqueak, calming him down.
Just then, the bell rang signalling that lunch was over. They waved bye to Pound Cake and began to walk back towards Ponyville, thinking of the possible punishments Celestia will bestow upon them if they get caught.
Next morning, Pipsqueak was cleaning out his downstairs cupboard when he heard loud knocking on his door. He opened it, and Featherweight lunged forward into the house, a copy of the ‘Equestria Daily’ under his hoof. “It’s in the papers!” he said, a wild grin across his face.
“What is?” asked Pipsqueak.
“Spades!” Featherweight cried as he opened the newspaper to the obituary page, “Spades, age 19, beloved son of Cillit Ariel, died at his home after a long illness, funeral Monday”. He closed the newspaper and looked at Pipsqueak, still grinning madly, “Didn’t you hear? ‘At his home’! Well that means we have had more luck than we deserve and we have got away with it!”
Pipsqueak gave a sigh of relief. “So, now we can go and pay our respects officially.” and he closed the cupboard door and followed Featherweight outside to find Chowder.
They found Chowder walking lazily through the square. They explained to him about Spades in the paper, and he gave a wicked grin. “Great. Now I can get the suit.” They began to walk back through the town, but Chowder began to slow down as the stalls thinned out a bit, “Hang on, I’ve forgotten something.” and he ran back among the stalls and out of sight.
“What does he mean he’s forgotten something, he hasn’t been carrying anything.” said Featherweight, just as a loud scream could be heard. “Oh no.” he muttered to himself in embarrassment.
Just then, Chowder came galloping past them, smiling to himself. Pipsqueak and Featherweight followed suit; they knew what Chowder had done. Soon enough, apples were being pelted at them by Apple Bloom; Chowder had clearly done his trademark sneak and flank grab on her. “Ah’ll have my brother set on ya, Chowder ya pervert!” Apple Bloom screamed loudly.
“And a good morning to you too Apple Bloom.” Featherweight called back as another apple bounced off his back. They quickly made their way out of the market and headed for Spades’ home.
They slowly walked up the garden path to Cillit’s front door and knocked gently. The door opened, revealing Cillit, still looking sour as ever. “We’ve just heard about Spades.” said Featherweight, in a sombre tone, “We’ve come to offer our condolences.”
“And maybe pick up the suit.” Chowder added. Pipsqueak gave him a sharp nudge to keep him quiet.
“Look Cillit, if there is anything we can do help, you can always ask us.” said Pipsqueak sweetly, but that wasn’t enough to stop Cillit staring daggers at them.
Eventually she said, in a suspicious tone, “Maybe you can tell me, how my son manages to die in his bed, and still get his slippers wet through, lipstick on him, and fluff all over his second best jacket?”
The trio stood silently, trying not to look too guilty. Finally Chowder broke the silence by slowly saying, “Well, they do say a pony’s lips can change colour when they die. My granddad’s went purple.”
“This looked like Passion Pink!” Cillit spat.
“Yeah, well his looked like he’d been eating blackberries.” Chowder giggled.
Featherweight muttered under his breath telling Chowder to shut up, and he quickly looked back at Cillit and said, “Would it be possible for us to pay our respects to Spades?”
“You can do that in the shed, because that’s where he is.” said Cillit, about to close the door on them.
“HE’S IN THE SHED?!” said all three colts in unison.
“I’m not having his cronies trampling over my best carpets!” Cillit snorted as she closed the door on them.
Featherweight, Pipsqueak and Chowder looked at each other, not knowing what to say to this statement. “You know I don’t like to speak ill of ponies,” said Pipsqueak as they walked around to the back gardens, “but I’m beginning to think Cillit’s a bit of a bitch.”
“Well it does seem a typical thing for her to do.” Featherweight joked, “Keeping her dead in the shed.”
Chowder pulled the door open, and they all squeezed inside. The open coffin took up a lot of space in the shed, it was resting on the work table that Cillit had pulled into the centre. Featherweight, Pipsqueak and Chowder all shuffled around the coffin to look at Spades. He still had that grin across his face, and a white sheet was draped around him. Featherweight and Pipsqueak closed their eyes and bowed their heads in respect, however, Chowder whispered a rather silly comment; “Don’t he look well?”
The pub was already quite full by half-past seven that evening. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke wafted through the air. Pipsqueak, Featherweight and Chowder were sitting in their usual stall at the back, and were joined by Dinky Hooves and Spike. Dinky had been crying softly for the majority of the time, especially when Sweetie Belle had stood up to sing an old love song on her karaoke machine.
As the boys were downing their third pints, Dinky said in a loud voice over the music, “It’s not right for Spades to spend his last weekend in that shed. If it were up to me, he could have my best room until they were ready for him on Monday.”
Featherweight lowered his glass and looked over at her. He was starting to feel a little bit tipsy at this point. “Well, it can be … arranged, Donkey… Dinky.” he said, slurring his words a little as he spoke, “All we would need is the transport, and an extra bit of muscle.” and he put his hoof around Spike’s shoulder, who was now looking rather nervous as he lowered his half- empty glass.
“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” Chowder hissed to Featherweight. It was now 10:30, Dinky had gone back to her house to prepare her spare bedroom for Spades, and Featherweight, Chowder, Pipsqueak and Spike were sneaking around the back of Sugarcube Corner to borrow Mr Cake’s cart again.
“I don’t really know what came over me.” said Featherweight, as he swayed on the spot. He was still feeling the effects of his drink.
“It was probably that last pint of Cartlings.” whispered Pipsqueak as they slowly crept up to the cart.
Suddenly, they saw a light flick on in the kitchen. They quickly jumped behind the dustbins, as they say a shadow moving behind the curtains. Then they heard the click of a lock as the door was pushed opened. “Hello?” Pound Cake called as quietly as he could, so is not to wake up his parents. He could see movements from behind the shaking dustbins. “Come out, now.” he said shakily. Slowly, the three colts and the drake moved into light. “No.” said Pound Cake, sternly, “You are not borrowing my dad’s cart again!”
“Well, we need to now,” said Chowder, “seeing as somepony drunkenly promised Dinky Hooves we get Spades back to her house tonight.”
“We are so sorry, Pound,” said Featherweight, “but we really need to take it. If it wasn’t serious, we wouldn’t be asking.”
“You are really digging yourselves in deeper trouble you know that?” said Pound Cake.
“Look, this getting ridiculous.” Spike growled, and he lifted the cart by the harness, “We’ll bring the cart back as soon as we’re done Pound Cake. I just want to get to bed before Twilight realises I’m gone.”
“Wait!” groaned Pound Cake as the three colts climbed into the cart, and he dashed back inside. Five minutes later, he was back out with a jacket over his pyjamas. “I’m coming.” he said as he climbed in as well.
“You can’t!” said Pipsqueak, “You’ll get in trouble as well.”
“I’m not letting this cart out of my sight.” said Pound Cake, “And besides, I’ll be in trouble anyway if you’re caught.” Pipsqueak looked at Chowder, and Chowder to Featherweight. There was no way of winning this battle, and plus he was right. Featherweight gave Spike the go-ahead, and he slowly pulled the cart out into the quiet street.
Outside Spades’ house, Spike lowered the cart quietly, so that Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Chowder and Pound Cake could climb out. There was a light still on in Cillit’s bedroom, as they moved towards the gate. “Be careful, the gate…” whispered Featherweight, but Spike had already pushed it open, causing it to squeak. They all flinched, but luckily, nopony heard them. They crept around the side of the house, into the garden and headed for the shed where Spades was resting.
Spike was too tall to fit into the shed, so he opted to stand outside and keep watch. When Pipsqueak, Featherweight, Chowder and Pound Cake were all inside with the coffin, Featherweight began pulling Chowder’s jacket off of him, “We need your jacket for a curtain.” he said as Chowder tried to pull it back on.
“Why use mine?” he protested.
“Because it looks like an old curtain,” Featherweight hissed as he finally pulled it off Chowder, “now try to hang it over the window.” Chowder groaned as he spread his jacket over the shed window, as Pipsqueak was pulling out a box of matches. He lit the first match, the small flame, flickered and lit up the shed, and Spades’ still grinning face. Pound Cake gave a sudden scream, causing Pipsqueak to gasp and blow the match out. “What’s the matter with you?” Featherweight asked.
“It’s Spades!” cried Pound Cake, pointing at the coffin, “He’s laughing at us.”
“He’s been like that for days now, pull yourself together.” said Chowder.
Pipsqueak had got out another match and lit it, “Listen, this is positively the last time I’m taking him down to Dinky Hooves’.”
Featherweight nodded to Chowder as they placed their front hooves under the coffin and started to lift it, “Where are you going with that?” asked Pound Cake.
“You know where we’re going with it!” Featherweight hissed in irritation.
“Not the coffin.” said Pound Cake, “You’re not going to get that onto my Dad’s cart. It’s not a furniture cart.”
The three colts glared at Pound Cake as they lowered the coffin back down. Chowder took his jacket off from the window, and Featherweight told him to take hold of Spades’ hindlegs while Pipsqueak would pick him up by his shoulders. As Pipsqueak put his hooves under his shoulder blades, he made a disgusted noise and recoiled slightly. “He feels… different.” he told Featherweight, when he asked what was wrong in a rather annoyed tone.
Spike went ahead, as Chowder and Pound Cake balanced Spades’ hindlegs on their backs, and Featherweight and Pipsqueak walked back to back sideways, with Spades’ top half splayed over their backs; Pipsqueak shivered slightly at the feeling of Spades’ hoof brushing the back of his neck. Spike opened the gate and keeping himself low to the ground, he poked his head around the corner to make sure nopony was there. When he checked the coast was clear, he stood to his normal height, and ushered the others to come through as well. They made their way to the cart and Featherweight, Pipsqueak and Chowder lifted Spades into the cart and rolled him under the workbench they had stuck him under the night he died. “I’m never doing that again!” Pound Cake gasped to Spike, clutching his beating heart.
“Don’t say that.” said Pipsqueak when they finished with Spades, “We need to bring him back home tomorrow night for his funeral.”
“Oh sweet Celestia!” Spike muttered under his breath.
“Now the question we’ve got now is, what are we going to do with that empty coffin?” Featherweight asked the group as they huddled around the cart, “We need some sort of dummy to cover up for Spades until tomorrow night.”
Pipsqueak’s eyes lit up under the glow of the lamppost, “Carousel Boutique!” he whispered excitedly, “We can borrow one of the shop window mannequins.”
“Do you really think Rarity will let you have one, at this time of night?” asked Spike, sceptically.
“She won’t,” said Chowder, grinning sneakily, “but Sweetie Belle will, when she finds out what we know about her.”
“Now wait, there is still a flaw with this plan.” said Spike, “We can’t just leave an empty coffin. What if Cillit wants to take a look before she goes to bed?”
“He’s right.” said Pound Cake, “There’s got to be something in that coffin until the dummy comes.” both he and Spike smiled wickedly at the three colts, “And there’s only one option; it’s got to be one of you three, I’m too small.”
“And I can’t, for obvious reason.” chuckled Spike. “Plus, I’m driving.”
Featherweight, Chowder and Pipsqueak looked worriedly at each other, as Pound Cake and Spike went into the cart. They kept their backs turned as they heard a knife coming down on a chop board, and soon, Spike came forward, with three drinking straws clutched in his claw. He held them out in front of the trio, “We’ve cut one of these straws shorter than the other two, so whoever gets the short straw stays in the coffin.”
Featherweight, Chowder and Pipsqueak gulped as they walked forward, their hooves out stretched to grab a straw each.