A Clockwork Apple

I awoke to the sound of one of my parents’ trotters schlag’ing my door. “Hey, Countermelody, Miss Pie is here to talk to you.”

I grumbled as I rose from the bed. Making sure my better parts were clean, I adjusted my mane and walked down the stairs to see a familiar pink pony sitting on one of our couches. She smelled lightly of a cigarette, and wore a sharp expression underneath her glasses.

I sat across from her, in the more polite stance, with my better parts facing the ground instead of the sky. “What can I mach’ for you- er, what can I do for you today, Pinkie?”

The rather grim mare blinked, unimpressed by my premium greeting. “It’s still Miss Pie to you, Countermelody. It’s time for our weekly meeting, remember?” She blew her unsettlingly straight mane out of her glazzies.

“Oh… er, sure.” I switched expressions from a happy expression to a rather somber one, to match the frowsy mood that Pinkamena always brought with her.

She scowled, as if I had made a scherz about her mother or something. “First things first. A rather important pony, one close to the Princess, and myself as well, was found beaten and raped inside her house this morning, her husband dead. She says she has no memory of it, so I can’t even begin to pin it on you, but remember that we’re watching.”

“I had nothing to mach’ with it. I and a few of my mares spent the whole night in the Totepferde Absinthe Bar.”

“A little too quick of an answer, Countermelody. But not enough for any sort of indication.”

“It’s true! I’m not scheiss’ing you, we were with a couple of colts who can tell you that we never left the bar.”

“Those two mini-celebrities? Sure, they can say what they will. But it’s not yet necessary.”

“Alright, then.”

“Look, Countermelody. I just don’t want you to end up back in the dungeon. Be careful who you mess around with. And if that’s too much, be careful what you get caught doing.”

“There’s no need to be too worried about me, Miss Pie. As you might say, I’ve reformed.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, glancing down briefly. “I sure hope so.” She stood, laufing toward the door. “This meeting is concluded. I’ll see you again, Countermelody.”

I softened up as she ceased to exist within my home. Glancing down, I saw what Pinkie had been glancing at. There was a spot of dried love-juice on my lower belly that I had missed. Taking a blick around, I licked it off, thinking of the mare I had acquired it from.

Later that day, we sat at the Totepferde Absinthe Bar, drinking. I ordered a heavier drink than usual, and found myself dancing with a human male. He had black hair, rather paler skin than what I had previously seen in drawings of them. I kept trying to schau his glazzies, but I never was able to. After a while, I decided I had had enough, and shoved him over onto his reverse.

I shoved the black hair out of his face, and aimed my glazzies at his. His were glowing red, without pupils. He opened his mouth, which was filled with snow-colored messers. Growling, he reached for my neck.

I felt a schlag to the shoulder, and woke. “Countermelody?” It was Harmony. “The bar’s closing, we should go.”

I lifted myself off of the ground, and felt rather sore in the lower regions. Sore inside as well, and a bit moist. “Harmony… did somepony do anything with my body while I was rather incapacitated?”

She grimaced. “Yeah… those two colts we’ve been hanging with took turns with you. I’m sorry, but I was too drunk to stop them.”

“At least I don’t have to remember it.” I said. Those two were in for the schlagfest of a lifetime the next time we trotted into each other. “So… what say you we do a bit of the old in-out as well, my mare?” I did a single-glazzy-blink at her.

Her snout turned rather pinkish, and she looked away. “Oh, come on. You know I’m not into that kind of thing.”

“I know, I know. Worth a try.” I laufed to the door, with her following. “Let’s go find somepony to filly with, eh?”

We soon found the pony I had referred to. An old mare with pink hair that looked half-dyed gray was sitting by the side of the road, singing to herself. “My little pony, my little pony…. “ She trailed off into incoherence.

It always disgusts me to see such a mullish thing. An old, useless creature wasting her life away in the bottom of a bottle.

“Oy there!” I said. We trotted over, and I started things off with a light schlag to the snout to get her to the ground. The drunk thing fell, still attempting to sing. “Care to cease that awful noise, would you?”

The old mare blicked in my general direction, obviously not seeing well. “What? No! I’ll sing what I will.”

“Not if I tear out your tongue!” snarled Harmony.

“Patience, my mare. There will be time for that in a moment.” I pressed the mare’s snout into the ground, pressing much of my size onto the single trotter.

“Alrigh’ then, go ahea’ and kill meh!” She managed to spit out.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“There’s no more law! Criminal scum like you rule the streets, destroying all that we once stood for!”

“Calling us scum, but then spewing all of that mull and losing herself in the bottom of a bottle? I’ve had enough talking. It’s time for mach’ing.” Before the mare could lift herself off of the ground, we began. Kicking with trotters only, we managed to keep the mare alive for several minutes, blood gently oozing out of each orifice and new tears that we were creating in her flesh. Most of her supports splintered.

Her glazzies were pointing different directions, and I could barely schau what her mark was supposed to be.

As we walked away, I licked a spot of the old thing’s blood off of Harmony’s neck. “Quit that, you!” She said, darting away.

I lach’ed a bit at that, and made my way home. Some member of my family had left some of that awful dubtrot mull playing on the stereo. I turned it off, nimmed the disk, and broke it in half.

I laufed up the stairs, and turned on my own far more bloodboiling musik in my room. The sounds of guitars and drums lulled me into a rather sensual sleep, as I considered how premium the flavor of blood on Harmony’s neck was.