Cranky & Drift

"So here's how I think we should do this: you keep an eye on the right, and I'll keep an eye on the left," Cranky said the next day, as the Buffalo stampeded far ahead of them.  He took a deep breath and fanned his face with a hoof.  "Sure is hot out here, though.  At least they promised to run slow for me."

"Yeah, you're old and stuff," Drifting Wood replied, nodding, while staring off behind them.

"Our friends are that way," Cranky replied, jerking his head in the direction of the buffalo.

"Right, anyway, I've already got a plan," Drifting replied.

"A plan?" Cranky asked, tilting his head.  "Isn't the plan to keep an eye on the buffalo?"

"Better plan, follow me," Drifting replied, taking off before Cranky could respond.

"Now hold on," Cranky protested, sliding in front of Drifting Wood.  "They're gonna be suspicious if they turn around and can't see us."

"As long as you stick with me, it's all good," Drifting replied, sidestepping Cranky and continuing on.

"Fair enough," Cranky shrugged as he followed.  "And I've been meaning to ask you about that, how'd you wind up runnin' with this tribe?"

"A couple of weeks ago I crossed paths with Thunderhooves, the Chief's son, in Dodge Junction.  We met in the saloon.  After a few rounds on him and a couple of funny stories from yours truly, we stumbled out of that bar, pals for life.  Don't think he'd met any ponies before me, so he takes me back to his tribe, right?  Tells his pop he wants to make me an honorary member."

"Must have made quite an impression on him," Cranky replied, altering his path slightly to avoid a cactus.

"It's what I do," Drifting replied with a nod.  "So I stampede with them for a few days.  Hell of a workout by the way, my calves have never looked better. In the end, most of the buffalo aren't too fond of me, but my buddy's the chief's son, so next thing you know, I'm No-Moss, Honorary Tribesman."

"Rolling Stone would have sounded better," Cranky replied.

"Thank you, that's what I said!" Drifting Wood exclaimed as they began to approach a mountain.  "But it was taken.  Rolling Stone was the bloke wearing the hoody and pajamas."

"That really was a comfortable looking getup," Cranky said.

"I know, Rolling Stone's got mad connections.  I'm jealous!"

"So what's your story pre-buffalo?" Cranky asked, cocking his head.

"My story is like a nudie-bar, mate: sketchy, full of beautiful women, and something you're better off avoiding during the day," Drifting replied, before sticking his hoof out to stop Cranky as he came to a halt.  "We're here."  Cranky observed the small mountain they had stopped in front of, and the cave entrance directly in front of them.

"What's here?" Cranky asked, turning to Drifting Wood.

"Stick close to me," Drifting replied, "we're going in."  Cranky hesitated for a moment before following Drifting Wood into the dark cave, sticking close to the stallion while his vision slowly adjusted to the darkness that was creeping up around them.

"You gonna tell me what's in here?" Cranky whispered.

"Yeah, look, see?" Drifting replied, gesturing toward the literal light at the end of the tunnel.  They came upon a torch-lit cavern with an elevated ceiling and a shallow pool of water that was constantly being fed by the dripping condensation from the stalactites above it.  At the other end of the clearing stood three ponies.

Two were large and muscular, with matching coats of dark blue, shaved manes, and sunglasses covering their eyes.  One had a left boxing glove for a cutie mark, the other had a right boxing glove.  The third had a tan coat, a heavily gelled blonde mane, and he wore a cheap, striped suit.  His cutie mark was a depiction of his own head, the facial expression upon it frozen in a perpetual grin combined with half-open eyelids.

"What's with the donkey?" the suit-wearing pony asked as the other two stepped forward.

"Head Honcho, meet the newest addition to our crew, Cranky Doodle Donkey!" Drifting Wood replied, extending his hooves towards Cranky, who gasped as his eyes drifted to the back left corner of the cavern, upon which sat multiple piles of fur.

"You're the poachers!?" Cranky exclaimed, taking a step back.

"Woodsy," Honcho replied, "why is he acting like he doesn't know why he's here?"

"Well, he doesn't, yet," Drifting replied, gently shaking his head.

"You're working with them?" Cranky shouted, glaring at Drifting Wood.

"Woodsy, here, is good at making friends," Honcho replied before Drifting could speak.  "Boss says buffalo fur is a hot item for clothing right now, so we send our resident charming shyster in to get all cozy with said buffalo.  He keeps tabs on 'em, sun goes down, we harvest."

"Harvest!?" Cranky replied, his gaze rapidly shifting between the four ponies.  "That's sick!"

"It's not like we're skinning them or killing them or something," Drifting Wood replied, reaching out to Cranky.  "We shave them.  Fur grows back.  It's a victimless crime!"

"That is not a victimless crime!" Cranky shouted, staring Drifting Wood down.  "Those buffalo take you in, give you a name, treat you like one of their own, and that's how you repay 'em!?"

"It doesn't sound like he's gonna cooperate," Head Honcho replied.

"Look mate," Drifting Wood said, placing a hoof on Cranky's shoulder.  "You're in a tight spot here, I get that.  The buffalo were gonna kill ya, and you can't get back into their good graces by catching the culprit because, ya know, that's me.  So join up with us, we'll cut you in on the profits, the buffalo won't kill you.  Everyone wins, really."

"Except for the buffalo.  I absolutely refuse," Cranky grunted.

"He knows too much," Honcho replied.  "You know Van Richter's policy, dead men tell no tales."

"Which is a ridiculous way of phrasing it, by the way," Drifting replied, turning toward Honcho.  "He's a white-collar crime boss, not a bloody pirate."

"So it's either help you kidnap buffalo for their fur or die?" Cranky asked.  Head Honcho nodded.

"Sidebar!" Drifting shouted, pulling Cranky away.  "You're not really gonna die over buffalo hair, are you?"

"I'm not gonna help you poach 'em, no matter what you do to me," Cranky replied sternly.  "Maybe you had me figured for a chump when you vouched for me in front of Thunderhooves, but you were wrong."

"Look," Drifting whispered, leaning in close, "the reason I stood up for you in the first place is because I don't want to see anypony die.  This shaving thing?  It's trivial, it's good money, and it's not worth dying over.  Be smart about this, mate!"  Cranky seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding thoughtfully.  He turned back to Head Honcho, and delivered his answer.

"We passed by a cactus on the way here.  Why don't you go suck on it?" Cranky replied as Drifting Wood smacked his forehead.

"Uh-huh, that's real cute" Honcho replied, turning to his henchmen.  "Drown him."  They nodded, and began to approach Cranky.

"Cranky," Drifting Wood protested, "seriously, dude?  Come on!"

"No, you come on," Cranky snapped back, looking Drifting Wood in the eye.  "You said you didn't wanna see anypony die.  If that's true, you've got a choice to make, right here and now!  It ain't too late to make this right, kid."

"It's not that simple!" Drifting replied, shaking his head rigorously.  "Nopony double-crosses Van Richter and lives to see their next nationally recognized holiday!  My hooves are tied, here!"

"Woodsy knows how things work, you oughtta listen to him," Honcho agreed, nodding.  "Last chance to change your mind before Left Jab and Right Hook put you to bed."

"Bring it on, you four-legged gorillas!" Cranky shouted, turning away from Drifting Wood and facing his attackers.  "I may be old, but I've got plenty of fight left in me!"  Jab made his move first, closing in on Cranky, who spun around and kicked with all his might, destroying Jab's glasses and sending him stumbling backward with two bruising eye sockets.  Before he could celebrate his first strike, Hook punched him square on the button, dropping him.

Jab recovered, and the two thugs lifted the dazed donkey by the shoulders, dragging his struggling form to the pool.  "Wait, maybe there's some kind of compromise-" Drifting Wood began before Head Honcho silenced him with a glare.

"Too late for that," Honcho replied, shaking his head slowly, a scowl on his face, "he hurt one of my boys.  Dunk him!"  Cranky opened his eyes as his face was plunged into the water.  He fought with all his might, but couldn't free himself from their iron grip.  After a few moments, he felt his lungs begin to strain, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold the shallow breath he had taken before going under for much longer.  He could faintly hear Drifting Wood's muffled voice gradually rise in volume.

"I guess this is it..." Cranky thought to himself.  "I'm sorry, Matilda..."   His vision began to darken.  His eyelids grew heavy.  Finally, he felt the burning sensation of the water crashing over his sinuses and into his lungs.  In his mind's eye, he beheld Matilda's youthful face one final time...

Suddenly, he was yanked upward, and thrown to the ground.  He coughed up some water, then caught his breath.  He looked up to see Drifting Wood standing between his captors and himself.  Hook was breathing heavily and clutching his throat.  Jab was writhing on the ground, hooves covering his groin as he wept openly.

"Have you gone crazy!?" Head Honcho shouted.

"Why not bring your delicate little neck and/or groin depending on the mood that strikes me over here and find out?" Drifting replied, baring his teeth.  "If you're gonna start killing ponies, you can forget about our arrangement, ya psychopath!"

"Couple of cheap shots and suddenly you think you're a tough guy?" Honcho replied, laughing.  Jab and Hook were already recovered from Drifting's sneak attack and ready for round two.

"I've always thought I'm a tough guy," Drifting replied while grinning.  He bent his neck downward, then jolted his head up into the air.  The knife he was carrying flew from its sheathe and rolled over in the air several times before coming to a stop firmly clenched between Drifting Wood's two rows of teeth.  The long, razor sharp blade gave a glare as it reflecting the torches that illuminated the cavern.

"Okay," Honcho replied, raising a hoof and taking a step away.  "I've seen you practice with that thing enough to know you'd gut us like fishes.  You can go, but keep in mind that we're gonna come after ya, and Van Richter ain't just gonna let this slide."  Drifting Wood uttered what Cranky assumed was a witty retort, but it was muffled by the knife in his mouth and nobody understood a word of it.

"What he said," Cranky added, coughing one final time and standing up, his gazed fixed on Honcho's growling face, unaware that nearby, Drifting Wood was scooping up multiple sacks of bits and tucking them into his own saddlebag.

...

"Will the buffalo be alright?" Cranky asked as they made their way through the desert, the sun dipping behind the distant mountains.

"Yeah," Drifting replied, "without me keeping tabs on 'em, Honcho can't do squat without getting caught.  They'll pack up and move on."

"Sounds like we've got a pair of targets on our backs now, eh?"

"Nah," Drifting replied.  "Van Richter lives in the Old Country, and his operators here in Equestria have Princess Celestia and the Royal Guard to contend with, so they keep their crimes non-violent and low-key.  Honcho was just blowing a lot of hot air."

"So what's next for you?" Cranky asked, lifting his head.

"Dunno," Drifting Wood replied, shaking his head.  "My calendar was pretty much blank before I teamed up with Honcho, and I'm not going back to the buffalo."

"Well, I'm searching for a long lost, dear friend," Cranky said, lowering his gaze.  "Been looking all over Equestria for her.  Could always use an extra pair of eyes."

"Are you asking me to travel with you?" Drifting Wood asked, raising his brow, eyes wide.  "After I nearly got you drowned?"

"You shaved buffalo, dragged me into the criminal underworld, and earned the hatred of a foreign kingpin.  I think you'll do a heck of a lot less damage if I'm keeping an eye on ya, kid," Cranky replied, smirking.

"Fair enough," Drifting replied, returning the expression.  "I know of some killer taverns around Equestria anyway, and I can keep up my own search as well!"

"Your search for what?" Cranky asked.

"Fortune, of course," Drifting Wood replied, grinning.

"Shoulda guessed," Cranky replied, rolling his eyes.  "Well, here's to our search for love and loot."

"You can have the love, I'll take the loot!" Drifting Wood replied as they bumped their hooves together.

...

"If I was to cheat, would you see right through me?"

"If I sing a sad, sad, sad, sad song, would ya give it to me?"

"So how ya like me now?"