Author's Note

If you thought I was slow on the update before, just you wait and see... And I do mean WAIT! Gonna be a long one comin up.

Why is the door locked?

Muda

Muda awoke with a start. His eyes were struggling to stay closed, as they yearned for more rest, but he inwardly knew that he had to get up. He could tell by the way the sun was just beginning to shine through the window that the time for sleep was gone for another day. He groggily got up and rubbed his eyes. Stretching his limbs, he went to his dresser drawer and got out some clothes for the day. It was a Saturday, so he put on some casual attire. His weekend black tuxedo with new black moccasins and matching black fedora. Truly, this was the worst he ever dressed.

Muda got into his car and drove downtown, looking at the random civilians he passed by. He occasionally waved to the rare child walking down the street, and nodded to all of the glum adults that milled around. Obviously the working class citizens. No cars, no fancy clothes, no happiness. Their existences were bleak and meaningless, and this only made Muda's smile all the wider as he sat in smug satisfaction behind the wheel of one of the few automobiles around. He was someone important. And he needed to keep being important, so he could enjoy the little things, like lording over the commoners.

'This is the good life.' he thought. And he'd be damned if that ended.

Just like it did for so many others... like Belas...

Muda squinted his eyes as one of the suns beamed down upon his town. His smile didn't feel like returning for the rest of the day.

James

James was having an over all interesting day. He stood in the kitchen, swallowing some aspirin along with Winslow as both Kevin and Dan untied the unconscious bodies, which were all laying in the main room. James had absolutely no idea what to do. He figured that there was probably a simple solution that was just staring them straight in the face, but for the life of him, he couldn't tell what it was. Seven people just randomly get dropped on his doorstep, along with a suitcase carrying God knows how much money, and he couldn't contact authorities, as they were growing pot in their home. The only one of these people to wake up was only conscious for a short time, before going sleepy shortly after.

...

'Ok, so there might not be a simple solution.' he thought to himself with a groan.

"So what should we do?" James asked Winslow. The scrawny kid responded nonchalantly.

"When the woman, or any of the others wake up, we ask who they are, what they were doing here, if the money is theirs, and make sure they don't see the illegal substance we grow. They go on their merry way after and we live on as usual."

'Oh, never mind. Simple solution found.'

Dan and Kevin walked in to the kitchen, Dan with an irritated expression on his face, while Kevin... just sorta followed. It was always pretty difficult to tell what he was thinking or feeling. Dan let out a quick sigh, which was his warning to those around him that he was about to start whining.

"When the hell are we gonna get rid of those pricks?"

Winslow closed his eyes, leaning on the sink. "Whenever they wake up and tell us where they came from."

"Why can't we just toss those fuckers out onto the street? They aint our problem."

"Because if a cop were to see seven bodies on the street, I don't think he'd just keep driving."

Kevin piped up. "I don't mean to sound harsh, but I'm pretty sure most of the police force around here would do their best to ignore things that would make them work."

"No, they'd love to arrest us if they got the chance. If we were rich, or popular with the society in this town, then maybe they'd ignore us. But you have to remember that they make a sport of arresting people in the lower classes of Emerald City." Winslow deadpanned, gaining a barely audible mumble from Dan. "Pig bastards."

James looked back at Winslow. "So, just from those few words she said, you could tell that the woman isn't some sort of freak or druggie?"

"Believe me, my friend, most druggies around here are barely comprehensible. Even our household has that problem." Winslow looked directly at Dan when he said that. Dan, instead of defending himself from the silent insult, merely showed what he felt was the proper response. He flipped Winslow off. James groaned at the duo's antics. He then turned his attention towards Kevin, who was casually leaning on the fridge.

"So, how are our distinguished guests?"

"All of them still have a faint pulse, save for the oldie. She seems to be a restless sleeper. Kinda felt like waking her, but then I was scared she'd try to kill me."

Dan cuffed his brother in the back of the head.

"Jesus, kid, just cuz she moves in her sleep you're pissin yourself over the fact she might slap ya?"

James then cuffed Dan in the back of the head. "Shut the fuck up Danny."

Knock knock!

"Hey King, why the hells the door locked?"

For once that morning, the four boys all stopped bickering, stopped worrying over the bodies, and all responded to this sound with a unanimous "Shit."

James slammed his head into a wall, actually managing to leave a crack. "Why does God love making us miserable?"

Winslow sighed, patting James on the back. "Listen, I'll be the one to talk to him. I'll go out the back door and try to converse with him outside, try to get him to leave. Kevin, Danny boy, get the bodies in the bedroom. Make sure-"

"Not to crush the plants, we got it." Danny said with a wave of his hand.

"Yeah. James, help them with that. Also, just so you don't get asked again, should Murray want in, put on a shirt."

"Yeah."

Murray

An average, working class citizen. An outstanding individual. A terrific father. A fit and healthy, handsome guy. These terms were all absent from the list of words that described Murray.

Murray woke up that morning like he usually would. A headache and an amount of beer bottles on the floor to make the entire country of Ireland blush. As he stumbled through the bottles and trash that replaced his carpet, he heard what sounded like a sizzling sound.

"Ok, either Tim's lightin a firework, or he's tryin to make bacon again... Lord let it be the firework."

POP! Clang!

"Crap."

Murray heard a voice come from the kitchen in his trailer.

"Hey, Murray, ya know how ya told me to never try and cook..."

Murray rubbed his forehead in agitation.

"Listen, you little shit! If I come in that room and there's any sort of mess covering the walls and ceiling again, I will personally break my foot off your sorry ass!"

"Jokes on you old man, it's only on the floor!"

"Oh, well in that case, you've only lost your alcohol privileges."

"What the fuck man!"

"Right. Me man, you boy. Me make rules, you shut the fuck up and follow em. Now scrape that shit off while I go get us some McDonalds."

"Yeah, fine."

Murray sat up in his small bed, making it creak slightly. He stretched his massive and hairy arms as he threw his fat legs over the side. His pot belly stopped him from being comfortable sitting, so he immediately stood up. He went to his cracked mirror and gazed at his reflection in mock satisfaction, smoothing the head that SHOULD have hair and flexing the body that SHOULD have muscles. But for some reason, those items weren't there. Was it because of the unhealthy diet, lack of exercise, and excessive amount of alcohol that lead to this? Probably, but Murray liked to blame God for it.

After all, it's not like his it was his fault that his wife left him, or that she remarried, had a son, and started living a good life. All the while he was still at the bottom of society's little totem pole selling crack and mugging people just to get his shitty little trailer in the middle of Hicksville. Then, just to rub salt in the wounds, his wife goes and dies along with her new hubby, leaving the 6 year old kid with him to have a miserable existence for the next four years of his life. Murray overly enjoyed thinking that this was all that big asshole in the sky's fault.

When he had got Tim, he had already gotten out of prison for getting caught dealing to minors, so he had to quit selling altogether, and was desperately trying to find new income. He was lucky enough to find a small job at McDonalds, but that hardly paid the bills for two mouths to feed as opposed to one. Fortunately, it seemed God got tired of being a complete dick to him, as he found four kids hiding out in a trailer, growing and selling pot. Instead of calling the cops or chasing the kids off, Murray saw the future where he could market off these kids' success... with blackmail!

Ever since he made the deal with the little bastards to have them keep the house, he had stopped worrying too badly about his well being... and Tim's well being too, of course.

Today was the day where he got the money from them. $250 for their rent, and an extra $300 for the service of allowing them to continue to live there. Admittedly, Murray felt a small bit of guilt every once in a while for exploiting these kids' hard work so much... but the fact that he had a roof over his head and food whenever he wanted always helped heal the damage caused by said guilt.

He got out a torn up old red shirt and black jacket that looked to be a size too small. He put on some sweat pants over his boxers and slipped on some worn moccasins. He walked outside after cuffing the ten year old on the back of the head, telling him to say inside and not make an attempt to cook anything else. Murray got into his dingy red station wagon and turned the key.

...

He turned the key again.

...

Third time's a charm?

...

Ok, so the car wants to be a piece of crap today. Yay. Looks like Murray would be dropping a few pounds to get to McDonalds instead. And so, he set off walking.

(10 minutes later)

Murray was starting to breath heavily as he walked home with his McDonalds. He couldn't wait to sit down at his house and eat his food. As he continued his walk, he observed his surroundings with a slight interest. The trailer park was about three blocks of different pieces of crap trailers, nothing special or great or anything. Just mediocrity living as far as the eye could see.

"Can't wait to get the fuck outa this dump." he said to nobody in particular. He continued his walk until he walked past a familiar trailer. King's. It was about that time of the month, where they needed to pay rent. Since he was in the neighborhood, he might as well get his money. Then again, he was hungry... hell, he'll just eat their house. It's not like there was anything waiting for him at home.

So he walked over to their house, a smile widening as he thought of this as basically a slightly bigger pay day. He stepped gleefully up to the door and knocked a few times, before going to open the door. Only to find, to his irritation, that is was locked.

"Hey King, why the hell's the door locked?" he yelled. Despite thought of money gracing his shallow mind, he still wasn't in a good mood due to his lack-luster morning. He waited for a few seconds, and put his ear to the door to see if he could hear any footsteps coming to le him in. He did hear a thump come from a ways away, most likely in the kitchen area, and then some hushed talking. Eventually, he heard some heavy footsteps walk close, but not the unlatching of certain locks he was hoping for. He huffed and crossed his arms, backing away from the door and scowling at it, maybe with some false hope that his expression would somehow make it open.

"What do you want, Murray?"

Murray's head snapped to his left so he could see who addressed him, and he was a bit disappointed to see it was Winslow. Now, Murray knew that he wasn't too popular with the four boys, but he could at least talk with King and Kevin, or drink with Danny Boy, but he and Winslow were on less great terms. The "the sooner you die, the better" terms, as he liked to think of it.

"Just came to get my money, sunshine."

"Isn't this transaction usually a Sunday thing?"

"What day is it today?"

Winslow looked pretty dumbfounded by the question. Murray didn't blame him, but his McDonalds job made his week work screwy in his head, and he could never really tell what day it was unless he asked or looked on his computer.

"It's Friday." Winslow deadpanned.

"Well, then I'm not extremely early. So, can I come in? I just bought a breakfast and I'd like to eat it somewhere where random people don't casually stroll by and look at me in disgust."

"If you come inside you'll have people sit down and occasionally glance at you in disgust."

"Ha ha. You know, if your parents loved you enough to keep you, you probably coulda grew up to be a comedian."

"Really, that was going to be your low blow? You've lost your touch. Listen, I'll go get the money, ok. I'm sure you have things to do, places to be."

"Not whatsoever. May I please come in?"

Murray was being unusually persistent today, for two reasons. Murray always took great pride and enjoyment in tormenting those who annoyed him, and Winslow was the king of the long list of people who annoyed him. The second reason was his curiosity about why they were so anxious to let him in was killing him. Usually, even if it was unscheduled, his appearance at their house was usually received without trouble.

"Well-"

"I may need a bit more money, you know how rent is nowadays."

"Seems like everybody likes to play that card."

"Well of course everyone does. Not playing it would be like... not shooting Hitler if you were both in the same room."

"Wow. That... that's the dumbest analogy I think I'm ever going to hear outside of reality television, thank you for that Murray."

Winslow knocked on the door five times, waiting for a response. The door creaked open slightly, and Kevin's blue mask popped out. 'Damn, for being a nice kid he sure has a fucked up sense of fashion.' Murray thought.

Kevin opened the door some more and let the duo in, Murray immediately observing the small trailer, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The weed room was shut as usual, nothing weird coming from there, the kitchen was empty, and the other two acted pretty normal... Danny Boy was complaining about the lack of wine, and King was just sorta standing around doing nothing. 'Perfectly normal.' he thought.

"Nice shirt King."

For some odd reason, though, this got a negative sigh from James.

Discord

Discord was happy. He was riding a pink, cotton candy cloud that rained chocolate milk over the small buildings below him. Discord was very happy. Below him, he heard the screams and yelling of the ponies that ran and hid beneath him. At first he wondered why they made such a big deal about the delicious precipitation, but then he remembered that the rain helped bring up some... interesting plant life. Discord was extremely overjoyed. The course in which he headed was towards the royal palace, the house of his remaining enemy, Celestia. Possibly, his truest victory was about to take place. Discord was in every way beaming with sheer joy!

He parked his cloud outside the walls and snapped his talon, disappearing off of his previous mode of transportation and reappearing inside Celestia's throne room. When he got inside the room, he noticed Celestia staring blankly at the door. He pondered over what doth made thy princess stare for not but a brief second, before going back to his original plan and script he had come up with on the way there.

"Yo sunbutt, whazzup?"

...

Discord waited for some sort of reaction to come from the grand alicorn, but he received nothing. He tilted his head in confusion, before going on again.

"It is I, the great, powerful, and handsome God of CHAOS! DISCORD!"

He summoned lightning to strike behind him, and the sound of thunder rumbled after the mention of his name. Again, this got an expressionless gaze, not even directed towards him! Discord floated over to Celestia, waving a paw in front of her face.

"Uh, hello? Anypony home? Testing, testing, uno dos tres."

It was then that he noticed that the tip of Celestia's horn was giving off a weird glow.

"Uh, hell-"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Where once the God was, he was no longer, replaced by a giant hole in the wall the shape of a draconequus with it's arms outstretched in every direction. Discord himself was flying through the air at remarkable speeds, putting his talon to his hoof and crossing his legs, pondering why Celestia was so mad at just his appearance. Usually, she just gave the perturbed glance followed by the occasional threat. Not even when he accidently came while she was in the shower was she this upset.

He landed thousands of miles away, with the resulting sound following this being crack! Discord looked around himself. In his confusion, he forgot that he could've just floated safely to the ground or something, and he was lucky that he didn't get hurt after the crash.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow!"

Discord looked down and finally noticed the pony he had landed on.

"Huh, wonder why it made a crack noise..."