Screw Loose, Adventure Pony!

At long last, the sun was setting and the day was drawing to a well-deserved end. The inhabitants of Trottingham had spread out from the park as the festival finished, the occasional subtle gust of wind through the leaves rustling the ponies a playful, tired goodnight. The mareigolds were giving off the kind of faint glow that freshly blossomed magical flowers radiate. Just about every town in Equestria has its exclusive winter-ending tradition, and Trottingham’s is The Raising of The Mareigolds – the entire townsfolk gathers to watch the unicorn populace give a solid magic nudge that makes the town’s unique flowers bloom. Once the ritual is complete, the festivities commence.

By now, the festivities were done, and the park was pretty close to deserted as the tired ponies went off to get some rest, led out of the maze of a park by the warmly shining flowers. Looking closely, one could spot a pair of earth ponies still traversing the pathways – the cream mare was visibly taken with the charm of the plants, occasionally throwing an uncomfortable glance over her shoulder at the blue colt keeping her company. He wasn’t making things any easier, that’s for sure – his nerves were visible miles away, the overcautious demeanor capable of petrifying even the most easygoing of ponies. The awkward duet shuffled onward, attempting to admire the intricate floral patterns, but one could cut the tension with a knife. Eventually, the colt managed to gather all the courage he could muster and blurt out, “They really outdid themselves this year, eh?”

“Yes, they’re exquisite,” came the reply, blurted out just a tad too quickly. The colt could tell that this wasn’t going as well as planned – he was hoping for a romantic walk in this heartwarming scenery, perhaps finally managing to break the ice that he’d been trying to get rid of for so long. Instead, he got the usual – a rigid stroll with over-the-shoulder glances when she thought he wasn’t looking. She apparently did not want him around, no matter what the backdrop was, but was just too tactful and gentle to tell him to buzz off, snuffing out his hopes once and for all. The extra nudge of true floral beauty, the thing she was truly passionate about, didn’t work its magic. As such, no extra small talk was going to change a thing.

The blue pony let his head drop a little as he dug his hoof into the ground. It was pointless. “So, uh, it’s getting late, and I’ve got to open the shop in the morning. Goodnight, Rose. The walk was a pleasure,” he strung together, raising his gaze in her direction. Immediately, he noticed some of her unease evaporating as she turned towards him and bid him farewell with an attempt at a polite smile. Like a fish let off the hook, he thought to himself as she headed towards the path out of the park. And then, before he could control himself, he burst out, “Could I walk you home, by chance?”

“No thank you, Johnny. Goodnight,” came Rose’s firm reply. The colt didn’t expect any different. Why did he even bother blurting that out? It’s not like the walk in the park was some planned date, he just randomly bumped into her as the festivities were drawing to a close, and she mustered a tentative “I guess,” when confronted with his spontaneous idea. Random, spontaneous, yeah right. He came here in order to meet her. And, as he watched her feminine form get stiffly swallowed up by the night’s setting darkness, he realized that there would be no more meetings. It was time to let go. If she couldn’t open herself out when placed in a habitat so natural for her, with no other ponies interfering, it just meant that she simply was not interested.

By her standards, not letting him walk her home was a very vibrant cry to be left alone. And who was he to object? Johnny let a solitary tear escape his eye and fall to the ground as he considered what to do. There was no point going to get anything to eat, he was still filled up on the pear cobbler served at the festival. The pub was out of the question, as cider would not make it any better, plus today was Mike’s turn at the mic, and the guy’s depressive, bleak tunes had the potential to make the happiest pony in Equestria cry rivers. Guess it really was time to call it a night. The colt dejectedly took the appropriate path and mechanically headed towards his house, his bed.

“Perhaps I just wanted it too much,” he sighed under his breath as he passed the park gate, leaving the glowing mareigolds behind. There was some truth to those words, as Rose showed up just as Johnny started entering one of his deepest crises regarding his overall life situation - his screw cutie mark dictating a dead-end carpentry job he could barely keep up with, a solitary, pedestrian life in a vibrant, magical land. Sure, there’s no denying that she was the type of mare he would have fallen for regardless the circumstances, but maybe he was grasping at straws to try and pull himself out of the pit. As such, his feelings for her could just be exaggerated in an attempt to escape his grim everyday reality. “Stop it!” he suddenly burst out at himself, sending a surprised bird cawing out of the tree it picked for shelter. That was uncalled for, the shout, he thought to himself as he hung his head low and sped up his step a little. Not like anybody could hear him thinking anyway, and there are more civil ways of eradicating depressive thoughts than shouting at oneself. No lights turned on in the surrounding houses, fortunately, so it appeared that the bird was the only victim of his outburst. In his haste to get away, Johnny failed to look up in time and made abrupt, resounding contact with a lantern. “Ah, fudge!” he exclaimed quietly, trying to rub his head. This was definitely not his day, that was for sure. This time there were no birds taking off into the dark night sky, just a quiet yowl in the bushes. Out of cautiousness, he did not get any closer.

Whatever the nature of his feelings for Rose, this was not the time to go into them further. He needed to get home without further distractions. The colt focused on the road and set off alertly, avoiding engaging in a mental dialogue or smashing into random objects. The task may have seemed easy at first, but then a certain wooziness started creeping in, like it would when he’d think for very long without contact with the real world. He tried to shake it off, but it was pretty reluctant to leave. “I’m sure I’ll sleep it off by the morning, just nerves probably,” he muttered to himself as he finally made it to the front door of his house. It swung in easily, with the comforting creak he was used to, and within moments he was under his blanket, his alarm clock beside the bed like always. The sadness of the day would get eaten up by his mind-numbing routine soon enough, he realized as he shed a final tear onto his pillow and beckoned his spinning mind to let him sleep…

Yowl.

The noise punctured the night’s silence and drilled into Johnny’s head, pushing the much desired sleep out of him. Why did the darned animal have to set up camp by his window and pour its soul out right at this instant? The pony turned away from the source of the sound and pulled the blanket over his head, intent on muting out the intruder and finally drifting off.

Yowl.

Yowl.

Yowl.

The concerto just kept going, smashing past the blanket’s thin barrier and swiftly passing the colt’s resolve to ignore it, poring into his brain time and time again. It’s not like the calling was having any effect, the night was perfectly still apart from this dubious display. And then Johnny recalled the noise that came from the bushes when he banged his head on the lamppost on the way home.

That thing followed him home.

Any semblance of wooziness and the will to sleep were gone in an instant as he started analyzing his options. The situation wasn’t critical, as anything that would be dangerous would have probably inflicted its damage right then and there, thus sparing itself the journey and effort of constant calling. Still, if the thing wanted to meet him so bad, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a cursory glance through the window. Cautiously, of course – that noise didn’t remind him of anything that he’d ever encountered, and running out to hug an animal that he couldn’t classify as harmless wasn’t exactly the brightest thing that one could do in this situation. Johnny made his way to the window and pored over the windowsill just enough to see…

…a dragon? Ducking for cover, the pony recapped what he saw. Well, that was one sloppy dragon, that was for sure. The kind of creature one would expect a distinctly un-gifted foal to draw – eight disproportionately tiny legs and a joke of a pair of wings, and a face that could smash open bunkers with its undeniable stupidity. It almost certainly wasn’t a threat – any self-respecting dragon would have eaten him by now, possibly also destroying the town in the process. No matter how hard he tried, no potential explanation for this oddity’s presence showed up in his mind… still, it was making a racket, and he needed some sleep before work. The decision was made.

A quick scan of his surroundings landed on a rake. Yeah, that would have to do. That would be something to tell his grandchildren one day, that he chased off a dragon with a rake. He could handily omit the bit of info that the dragon was an embarrassment to nature, and he’d probably bait a couple of young faces glowing with admiration. And then they’d have pie. Or cobbler. Yeah, cobbler preferably, good old pear cobbler. And the light would bounce off the plates in that fun, playful manner that makes it feel like the world is being joyful with you, and the foals would go upstairs, and he’d relax in his rocking chair, watching the rollicking flames lick the logs in the chimney, and unless he was mistaken there was a task in need of attention, and he was drifting off into one of those thought bouts again. He quickly shook it out of his head, snatched the rake, and bravely opened the back door.

“Hey, you!” he beckoned, and the creature reared its head with another one of those all-too-familiar yowls. “Yeah, you! Get off my lawn! I’m trying to sleep here!” he kept going, heroically waving his rake at the invader. The reaction wasn’t what he hoped for, though – the dragon spotted the tool, its eyes lit up, and it launched forward him with a cheerful “Yay”. Before he could react, there was an ominous crunch and the beast had half of his rake inside its mouth, chewing happily. Calling that unexpected was an understatement. As such, he made a hasty decision – before the dragon could realize that he was just as edible as the rake, he quickly retreated and slammed the door behind him.

The dragon immediately snapped out of its happy chewing and raced for the door with a wail. “No, you has THUD to come out THUD Crackle look THUD for you THUD for so long THUD,” came a pieced together statement, interrupted by the occasional headbutt to the door. The colt’s stomach sank and he tried to come up with a way out of this mess as the door barely held onto its hinges and random household items started shifting around. Before Johnny could decide what to do, the door finally gave way and the dragon was free to do whatever it wanted to do with him…

The colt’s life flashed by his eyes, and none of it was good. His uneventful childhood, years of mediocre carpentry in an attempt to live up to his cutie mark, and the futile pursuit of Rose’s affection seemed so little and worthless now, with the dragon about to… hug him? The creature bust through what once used to be a door (widening the hole in the process) and came crashing down on top of him in jubilation, triumphantly exclaiming “Crackle happy!” for the world to hear. Johnny got the wind knocked out of him, and it took a while for his agonized wheezing to reach the ears of the celebrating dragon. Upon realizing that it was crushing the pony to death, it got up immediately and stared happily as the colt attempted to regain his composure.

Once the shaking in his legs finally subsided, and his mind regained some coolness, the pony warily looked at the beaming dragon and inquired “So, who are you?” much to the creature’s delight. “Me Crackle. Crackle am best dragon. Crackle can has rest of rake?” came the obliging reply, coupled with a request to eat a tool. Considering the dragon’s prior actions, Johnny wasn’t surprised, so he just tossed the remnants of what used to be a rake at Crackle, who happily opened his/her/its mouth and devoured it happily. He waited for the dragon to finish up the meal with a huge gulp, and inquired further “Of all ponies, why me?”

“Simple! You hit lamp! Then you give Crackle rake! It all make sense! Crackle found you!” Crackle started bouncing up and down, knocking over virtually everything that wasn’t bolted down to the floor. Johnny caught himself thinking of how long this would take to clean up – apparently this situation wasn’t getting to him as much as he expected it to. Needless to say, in spite of reassurance of the contrary, what the dragon was saying was not making any sense. As if reading his mind… a wing was thrust in his face. What.

“This my wing. Pull it,” the creature beamed. The colt considered his options. The odds of the dragon exploding weren’t that high, but how likely was it for him to find this thing lurking in his backyard in the first place? The creature was sucking up all of the world’s logic with that ridiculous smile and cross-eyed stare of derailing. Johnny decided that Crackle probably knew what it was doing, in some weird way, and he was much too small and insignificant to object. Plus, he was only asked to pull on the drake’s wing. Thus, he complied.

The wing responded like a rusty lever and Crackle’s mouth snapped open, pouring out a slightly shaky stream of light accompanied by the distinct sound of old movie reels rolling. The image, cast on a now-bare wall of Johnny’s room, appeared to be Crackle sitting in a meadow, sporting a mildly goofy tophat and devoid of the grin that had a hard time leaving the drake’s face ever since encountering Johnny. The recording was visibly dated, as further evidenced by the warm, throbbing analog sound of the muzak in the background, far removed from anything modern day ponies could encounter. “This thing on?” the dragon inquired uncertainly, greeted by a sigh and “Yep, it’s rolling,” from behind the camera. The recorded Crackle quickly cleared his/her/its throat and began speaking. “Good day, kind filly or gentlecolt. As you are currently watching this feature, you have been deemed as the appropriate pony for the task at hand, which I shall deal with shortly,” Crackle’s recorded self was quite eloquent, forming sentences abiding conventional grammar and articulating them in a fluent manner quite unlike the drake’s normal, disjointed yapping. “First though, you must be asking yourself why you are the pony of choice. It’s quite simple really. As the codex says,” the recorded Crackle produced a set of crumpled pages that looked like a heavily worn children’s activity book bordering on the surreal, proceeding to thumb through it looking for the appropriate excerpt, “the proper pony for the job shall manifest oneself by smashing into a lamp while I’m in the bushes, and then respond to my calling by giving me a rake to eat. I like rakes. Also, who would walk out to a dragon with a rake? That shows that you’re obviously an outside the box thinker, and as such you’ll be adequate to help me on my quest.” At that point, Crackle the movie projector gave a happy chuckle and little bounce.

“What is the quest in question? I can’t just tell you that right now. Crackle, take out the Mystical Pickle!” the on-screen version commanded its present day counterpart. The dragon promptly pulled out a faintly glowing, bluish pickle and looked at it for a few seconds. Johnny just cast a sideways glance. Guess the fact that no howling sirens were coming out of the pickle meant everything is good. As if to verify, the on-screen Crackle asked “So, uh, are we in the clear to continue?” greeted with an off-camera “But he can’t hear you.” Johnny made a mental note of the dragon’s gender as Crackle the present version subtly nodded and uttered out a “Yeh, ehryhing ih fine” without moving his projector mouth. “Jolly good then, jolly good,” the cinematic Crackle smiled, “Told you it would work.” The off-screen creature could only muster a sigh, apparently his level of comprehension of Crackle’s ridiculous antics was similar to what Johnny was capable of. By now, the pony was pretty sure nothing would surprise him anymore. “So, without further ado – the quest at hand!” the narrative snapped back into place, “If you paid attention at school, then you must be aware of a certain Discord, a malevolent spirit of chaos who governed Equestria a couple of millennia ago. Then Celestia and Luna came, the Elements of Harmony, yadda yadda, he’s a stone now, congratulations. However, there’s a problem, as the malicious brand of chaos isn’t fully eradicated from the land. It is still exemplified by a second, lesser creature, known as Kraakers. For years, everything was fine – Kraakers is much weaker than Discord, and as such didn’t pose any real threat to Equestria while the Elements of Harmony were at full power. However, since then, Luna got banished to the moon, and Celestia had to take control of all the Elements, not doing as great a job as she’d like. Hey, look at me,” Crackle the movie version pointed at himself with a smirk, “if Equestria would be so chaos-free, would I exist? I don’t think so. I am no threat to the well-being of this land, though, as I embody the other kind of chaos, the friendly, fun kind. Putting aside the dwellings on my nature, Kraakers is pretty feeble, but his very presence is perpetually undermining the very fabric of Equestria, and if he isn’t stopped, he could lead to Discord’s return. Even though I’m 30% chaos, I wouldn’t want that. As you’re 0.17% chaos, I guess you don’t want that either.” Johnny nodded, agreeing. “Neither would just about anypony around. As you offered me a rake after smashing into a lamp, you are a good candidate to stop Kraakers, cooperating with me. So, what do you say to that?”

Johnny realized he was actually expected to answer that query. Somehow, in a self-defense mechanism against all the bizarreness that was attacking from all angles, he shut off his thought processes almost entirely and just took it all in. That was kind of unusual, as he was renowned for getting lost in his thoughts all too often. Now, the gears in his head were slowly grinding again, processing it all. A dragon, claiming to be 30% chaos, followed him home, ate his rake, and then played a fourth-wall-shattering movie from its mouth implying that he’s supposed to go and join him on a quest to get rid of some sort of Discord wannabe named Kraakers. On the other hand, his current static option was a disheartening job and a self-imposed letdown of a romantic situation. Perhaps getting away for a while would make it easier to forget about Rose? Nothing like a crazy bender to break up the monotony. Expecting a candid camera to pop up any second, Johnny uttered “I’m in.”

None of that happened. Instead, Crackle the movie projector squealed happily, intent on not messing up the picture. Crackle the movie version took the news with a calm, collected smile. “Jolly good. I knew you’d be interested. Welcome aboard.” A hefty paw pat almost knocked him into the ground again. “As you’re part of the team now, there’s a couple of regulations for you to follow. There’s exactly two of them, in fact. Get out a piece of paper, you want this in writing as this is your new codex.” Johnny obliged, whilst Crackle the movie version opened up the crumpled papers from earlier.

“First, the pony goes in the barrel. Second, you can’t read. Verbatim, both. Got it?” Johnny nodded once he stifled the thought processes that were rebelling against the nonsense. “Good. With that, this feature may conclude. You can turn it off now.” The camera operator’s anguished moan got cut by the movie ending. Contrary to what the colt expected, the real Crackle didn’t start bouncing up and down with joy, instead just sitting there with an oblivious expression on his face. “So, uh, we leave in the morning?” Johnny inquired. “Good idea. Crackle crash on your couch then,” Crackle approved, before turning a perfectly fine piece of furniture into a heap of firewood and splinters with a sleeping dragon on top. The colt headed back to his bed, somewhat more rickety and off-position compared to where it was before the entire incident. Snuggling under his blanket, he attempted to make sense of what just happened, but failed miserably. At least the yowling was dealt with, so he could finally get some shuteye…

The sun rose over Trottingham, basking the buildings in a warm, comfortable light that could easily revitalize even the most cranky ponies. The weather was absolutely perfect, as a remnant of the previous day’s spring welcoming festivities. Equines slowly poured out of their houses and started going about their businesses – tempting smells were wafting out to the street from the bakery, somepony was off to get a new quill, and a slightly scruffy earth pony was whistling a merry tune whilst sweeping up some wrappers the wind blew away from the trash can. Johnny opened his eyes. Celestia, what a weird dream. He stretched lazily, thinking how his co-workers would react to such a hilarious tale about a…

…dragon. The very same dragon that was now sleeping on what appeared to have once been his couch. So it wasn’t a dream. That would have been even harder to explain, had he been actually given the opportunity to share it with others. Alas, it wasn’t to be, as Crackle somehow sensed that the pony woke up and rose as well. “Um, hi,” the house owner attempted to strike up a chat. “Hi. We go?” the dragon cut to the chase. “Yeah, why not,” the colt stated indifferently, making his way to the door. “Wait, we no go. You need barrel. You has barrel?” Crackle caught Johnny a bit off guard with that revelation. Oh yeah, the movie gave him two ridiculous regulations to live by from now on, but he was hoping that they were just some sort of hoax never to be brought up again. Apparently, it wasn’t to be that way. “Yeah, I’ll try to find one, give me a few.”

Johnny passed through the gaping hole that used to be the back door to his house, hoping that the ancient barrel that he once used to collect rain water was still standing somewhere in his garden. True, it’s been a while, and he couldn’t remember whether the old thing was still around, but it was worth a shot. Much better than asking any of his neighbors or acquaintances anyway. He had a little chuckle, trying to envision anypony’s reaction to an inquiry along the lines of “Hi, could I borrow a barrel from you, probably indefinitely? For you see, this weird dragon came to my place yesterday, ate my rake, and he won’t let me embark on an epic quest to destroy some chaotic being named Kraakers until I find a barrel and place myself in it.” However, nopony would be troubled, as the barrel was lurking behind Johnny’s failed attempt at Rose’s field of interest (in other words – a dried up rosebush). After much dried twig snapping, the barrel was extracted. The colt detached the lid, looked inside, opted to try it on for size…

Moments later, a weird dragon was bolting down Trottingham’s main street, ridden by a blue earth pony, bottom half encapsulated in an old barrel. The colt noticed the well-deserved stares, and attempted to calm his fellows. “Fear not, ponies, for I am Screw Loose, Adventure Pony, and I am setting out on a quest to rid this land of chaos!” didn’t appear to do the trick, possibly because of the dragon’s gleeful addition of “Crackle am turtle! Oink! Oink!”

Screw Loose shrugged. The mission at hand was much more important than obtaining the sympathy of his compatriots. He didn’t even notice when Crackle zipped right past Rose’s stand. The florist stared agape at the pony whose name was Johnny, mane flapping wildly in the wind, a psychedelic gleam in his eye. Once the unlikely rider was gone and the mareigolds stopped shaking, a magenta pony tentatively walked up to the stand. “He’s lost it,” she commented. “Yep,” came Rose’s elaborate reply, “What do I do now?” “Well, I guess we could leave town, you never know what he may bring back. It’s not safe to be here,” her friend proposed. “That’s a good idea. Pack your bags, Daisy, we’re leaving for Ponyville in an hour.”

Screw Loose was completely unperturbed by this turn of events regarding his sweetheart – he stretched out his arms triumphantly, absorbing his newfound freedom and sense of purpose, before bellowing, “To Canterlot!”