Fallout Equestria: Zing!

by volrathxp

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Comedy
Length: 6582

A comic finds the ultimate killer joke in the Wasteland.

A comedian named Lame Joke goes on a mission to save his mother in the most comedic fashion ever. In doing so, he find out just how funny the Wasteland can be.

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This short story was originally published as part of "The ABCs of Fallout Equestria".

Published 2014-08-08 03:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-08 03:20:03 UTC

Zing!

Zing!

A Wasteland Short Story by volrathxp

“Beware, beware you pony folk! Those leaves of blue are not a joke!”

*blows on microphone*

This thing on? Hello? Hello? I am proud to announce legislation outlawing Zebrica; the bombing begins in ten minutes. Heh, there we go. You're here now. Awesome. And you can hear me out there? Great. Even better.

So... a Stable dweller, an alicorn, and a nightstalker all walk into a bar. The bartender says “Hey! We don't serve your kind here!” The nightstalker saunters up and puts on a top hat and a monocle and says “I'm terribly sorry old chap. I'll have them wait outside while I have a spot of tea.”

*crickets*

Okay, so not the greatest joke I've ever told, so sue me. Wait, don't do that. I don't want to be sued... whatever that is. Moving on. I suppose you want to know a little bit more about me, eh? Well, alright then. My name is Lame Joke, and my special talent is comedy. That's right, comedy. I'm a funny pony. I tell jokes. Like the one about the ghoul who was losing his mind, literally!

*crickets*

Alright, alright. So I'm not that funny. I get it. There's a reason my name is Lame Joke, after all. But enough about me, let's start off with some fart jokes. Everypony loves fart jokes, right?

Hey why are you leaving?! Stop that. Sit down for a minute, wouldja? Listen, I'll make you a little bet, alright? I'll bet you that I can get ya, yeah get ya really good. So sit back, and I'll tell ya little story. It's the story of my life, really. A story of my search... for the Killer Joke.

That's right. The Killer Joke. The big one. The one joke in the history of the Equestrian Wasteland that will cause anypony's sides to immediately split in laughter. You see, I lived in the west end of the city of Trottingham. It's a shit hole, let me tell you. Just about the worst place one could live, but that's what you get when your home is an irradiated Wasteland full of unspeakable horrors. A long time ago, there was this big war between the ponies and the zebras, and they just blew the place all to hell.

I guess that's why my special talent is in comedy. When I was growing up, I had to make do with just my ma and me. Ma loved me an' all, but I was a little funny in the head as a colt. I had this stutter, still do occasionally. Anywho, my ma worked at this bar just outside of the city. Nice little place, still there too. I do my show there three times a week even! So, back to my story. I mean, I'm sure you're enjoying yourself, but c'mon, there's better things to do with your time than to listen to a cracked up old jokester like me.

Ma left me to my own devices one day while she was waitressin' and I got a little too curious for my own good. I somehow ended up finding the kitchen, and was highly interested in the most gorgeous looking pie I'd ever laid my eyes on. Well... one thing led to another, and the next minute I know I'mrolling out all in front of the bar on a series of rolling pins, you know the things you beat flour with. The pie of all things lands on my face. Then dead silence. Out of nowhere somepony starts laughing and pretty soon the entire bar is roaring at the sight of my pie plastered mug. Lo and behold, I got my cutie mark that day: a mask with a giant grin on its face. It was the happiest day of my life, lemme tell ya.

So... back to the Killer Joke. I'm not kiddin' about this one. It's the big time folks. And let me tell you something: I found it. And this is how.

************************************

I was busy rounding up the last of my set. Phil's Bar was pretty low on guests that evenin', only Old Jack in the corner curled up with a bottle of his favorite poison. I delivered the final line, and took a few bows to the crickets before stepping off stage. I made my way to the bar where Philophus, the goat bartender and owner of Phil’s Bar, was spit-cleaning a set of glasses. I shuddered. I drank out of those occasionally!

“Phil, that's gross,” I said, taking a seat at the bar.

“What? You want me to use the water?” The goat spat at me, pointing at a bucket of water near the end of the bar. It was bubbling with radioactive goodness. I think if I'd have had one of those fancy PipBuck thingamajigs it'd be clicking like mad at the moment. I shuddered even more.

“No, you're good. Just a beer I guess,” I said. Phil sighed, grabbing a bottle from under the counter. I popped the lid off with my teeth (easier said than done when you're an earth pony like myself) and took a swig. It was warm, but tingled as it trickled down my throat. “That's the stuff. So... good show tonight, eh?”

“It sucked. Like always, Lame,” Phil replied. He spat in another glass, taking a dirty rag to the inside of it. By the time he was done it was filthier than when he started.

“Hey, just because you didn't like it don't mean it ain't funny,” I said. “I don't see you complainin' when I actually do bring in business.” Phil rolled his eyes.

“It's not like this place costs a whole lot to begin with,” he said, peering over at Old Jack. The elderly earth pony had been coming to Phil's for about as long as I can remember. His place was always at the far end of the bar, where he'd drink til he fell asleep, then wake up and repeat the process all over again. I still don't know how he hadn't croaked yet. I think Phil just started giving him free booze after he realized he wasn't going anywhere.

“Well, don't worry too much Phil. One of these days, I'll be the best comedian in the Wasteland, and I'll buy you a fancy new place with all 'dem caps,” I said, taking another swig of my beer.

“Oh, right. The ultimate gasser. You've been going on about that for the past six years, Joke. It don't exist. Ain't no such thing,” Phil replied.

“There is too, Phil! I'll swear on my ma's grave, Luna bless her soul,” I said. Phil snorted.

“Your ma ain't dead, stupid,” he said. “She's in back, stocking. Remember?”

“Oh. Right,” I said, pinning my ears back sheepishly. I kicked back the rest of the beer, grinning. “Tonight could be the night, Phil. I could find it just around the corner!”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep on dreamin, Joke. Now get in back and help your ma finish the stocking. You can leave after that,” the goat said. I nodded, depositing the beer into the trash can as I made my way towards the back room behind the bar. A grunting noise caught my attention. At the far end of the back room stood my ma. Ma was an earth pony like me, with a faded red coat and a purplish mane. She was busy lifting a crate of alcohol up onto a shelf. I stepped up next to her and lifted the next crate, setting it gently on the shelf.

“How'd your show go?” She said, grabbing a bottle out of the next crate and cracking it open. She took a long draw off of it.

“Went alright. I've got a good feelin' about my material lately, ma,” I said. Ma smiled softly.

“So nopony showed up,” she said. I sighed, resting my head against her neck.

“Nope,” I said sullenly. Ma placed a hoof on my shoulder, patting me lightly.

“Don't worry, sweetheart, you'll get a crowd one of these days,” she said. “You just have to keep at it.”

“I don't know... Ma... what if I'm not cut out for this. I mean, what if my cutie mark is wrong? What if I'm not supposed to be a comedian?” I said, the weight of the world catching up with me and reality setting in.

“Honey... you have to believe in yourself. I do. You'll always be my funny little boy,” my ma replied, nuzzling me close. I smiled. Ma always knew what to say to make me feel better. She was good at that. We sat there for a few moments in silence before getting back to the rest of the crates.

Our work was interrupted by a sudden crash from the front room of the bar. There was shouting, and then gunshots. My eyes widened as I glanced over at Ma. She motioned for me to hide behind a large stack of wine crates. She pleaded with me silently as the door to the back room started to open. I pushed behind the crates and sat there.

“Just one back here, boss,” I heard a voice say.

“Well, well. Lookee what we got here boys. That is a fine piece of flank if I ever saw one,” a darker, grating voice said.

“What do you want?” Ma said. “Who are you?”

“Shut up,” the voice replied. “Boys, take her. She's coming with us. She ain't a unicorn, but she'll do.” My eyes widened. I wanted to jump out, but I couldn't see anything and if they were armed... I wasn't a fighter, I was a comic. I could assault them with pies and cake, but put a gun in my hooves and I had no clue.

“Wait, what are you doing? Get off me!” Ma shouted. I cringed at the sound of her voice.

“Put her in the cart, and let's get going. We need to get down to Ponyville to offload this mess of slaves to Red Eye's group or he's gonna be pissed,” the voice said. Slavers... I thought. I'd always heard horror stories about ponies being captured by brutal slavers who sold them into service to sick and disgusting ponies who did everything from violate to murder their slaves. I couldn't let that happen to Ma. I mean, she was my Ma!

A click sound indicated that the door had closed. I'd been so scared and shivering behind the crates that I hadn't been able to even move. I launched out into the back room heading towards the door. I pulled it open quietly, peering out into the bar. Phil was splayed out on the bar, his blood spilling onto the hardwood floor below. Old Jack was still in his corner, sound asleep. The attackers, whoever they were, hadn't even bothered to kill him. The front door to the bar was wide open and I heard Ma screaming from outside. Her screams and shouts were getting fainter by the moment.

I moved over to the elderly stallion's side, shaking him hard. His eyes opened blearily and he yawned, looking up at me.

“Joke? Show over? I missed it again didn't I?” He said.

“Jack, we've gotta problem here! Somepony killed Phil and took Ma. We gotta get her back!” I shouted. The stallion grimaced, looking past me at Phil's body. He sighed.

“Fucking slavers,” he said. “All that blood's gonna ruin the booze.”

“What do we do, Jack? What do we do?” I said frantically. The stallion sighed and slapped me hard across the face with his hoof. I blinked at the contact, stopping immediately.

“First things first, you stop yer panicking,” the old stallion said. “Second. Didja hear at all where they was heading?”

“Whoever it was said something about Ponyville,” I said. Jack's eyes shot wide open.

“Shit. If they're selling her to Ponyville... we gotta get there,” he said.

“What's so bad about Ponyville?” I asked, my insides turning inside out as I waited for the stallion to answer. He stood, and pushed himself back from the bar.

“Ponyville's a raider town, son. She won't survive. She'll be eaten alive,” he said. The stallion stumbled around the bar, pushing on Phil's body and causing the dead goat to fall to the ground. He grunted. “Sorry, Phil. Kinda need this.” He reached under the bar, lifting out a rifle. I'd seen that rifle many times before. Phil kept it for protection, not that he really needed it. We never got enough of a crowd to warrant it. Jack slung the rifle over his shoulder blade.

“Jack, what are you doing?” I said as the stallion walked by.

“Gonna go git your ma back, son. You sit tight now,” Jack replied. I stepped forward, placing a hoof up to stop him.

“You can't do that,” I said. “They'll kill you!” Jack snorted.

“I'm more than capable of takin' care of myself, youngin'. Besides, your ma's a good gal. She don't deserve that,” the old stallion said. I stomped a hoof.

“I'm coming with you,” I said.

“Son, you're not a fighter. You're a jokester. You wouldn't last five seconds out there,” Jack said. “Now go on. I'll be back with your ma, don't you worry.” He pushed past me and went out the open door. I stood there, my front knees shaking and knocking together. Jack was right. I wasn't a fighter. I only tried to ever make ponies laugh. But I had to do something. I had to help my ma. I couldn't let her just... I couldn't even think about it.

I grimaced as I walked up the stairs to my room where my stuff was. I opened up my trunk, selecting a few things that I might be able to use. A joke buzzer here, a rubber chicken there, and even a cased up banana cream pie. Yes... I could do something with these. I pulled my things into my saddlebags and took one last look at my room. It was likely the last time I'd ever see it. I put on a grimace of determination and stared out my window.

“Let's get comedic,” I said.

*****************************************

You ever wonder just how hard it is to keep track of a pony when you have no idea where you're going yourself? Really bucking hard, that's how hard. I had thought that maybe Old Jack would move slowly, being as old as he was, but as it turns out the elderly stallion was still quick on his hooves. Still, he hadn't seen me yet. I followed along, glancing around nervously as the hillside surrounding Trottingham came into view.

A road made of broken rubble and debris was our path out of the city proper. Dead grass and even deader trees littered the Wasteland. My hooves were starting to hurt from all the walking by the time that Jack stopped the first time. In the distance past the stallion, I could see a few lights that appeared to be a few fires. The slaver caravan? I thought as I made myself scarce, hiding behind a big pile of rocks.

After several hours of waiting, the stallion began to move again, and I followed. I wasn't sure where we were going. My hooves still hurt quite a bit, but I did what I could to soldier on. Old Jack would stop from time to time, watching the caravan intently. The rolling gray fields were quickly replaced with large amounts of flat lands, with patches of brown grass interspersed with dirt. There was the occasional broken tree, but no cover for miles. I began to grow increasingly worried that Jack would see me, or worse... the caravan would see the both of us. Nothing happened though. The plains eventually sloped down into a large valley, and I could see where the caravan was headed.

Sitting at the edge of a massive forest (that was actually green!) was a tiny hamlet nestled in the valley. There was smoke emanating from one of the buildings. Jack stopped just atop a tiny ridge, watching the slaver caravan intently. I grimaced as I got closer to the ridge. Jack suddenly spoke.

“Kid, if you're so intent on followin' me you might as well come down,” he said. He turned and looked straight at me. I'm still not sure how he saw me through my disguise. I'm guessing the big nose and mustache with the black-rimmed glasses wasn't exactly the best way to conceal myself. I trotted down the ridge in front of him.

“How long have you known?” I asked. Jack snorted.

“Fuck, I knew the moment I left,” he replied. “I knew you couldn't resist coming to get your ma.”

“So why didn't you say something?” I said. Jack pointed down the ridge at the hamlet.

“See that? Ponyville. Those fucks are gonna offload their slaves here for Red Eye's operation,” the older stallion said. “That's gonna be our best chance at getting' your ma out. We're gonna need a distraction... so I'm kind of glad you came along.”

“What do you mean?” I said, blinking. Jack grinned widely.

“My boy, you're gonna go introduce yourself to the locals, and you're gonna put on the greatest comedy show of your lifetime,” he said. My eyes widened.

“But you said it yourself, they're raiders!” I said. “You know... bad evil ponies who kill other ponies!”

“That's why you need a better disguise. They won't attack you if they think you're one of them,” Jack said. “You get in there and put on your show, and while they're all distracted I'll sneak in and free your ma. We'll meet in the forest outside of the town. They'll never find us there.”

“But what if they try and kill me? What if they try and EAT me?!” I said frantically. “My jokes aren't that great!”

“Relax, kid. Raiders are simple minded. Just go with some fart jokes. Those stupid fucks will laugh at anything,” Jack replied. “Now get over here. Let's see what you got in your bags.” I nodded silently and trotted over to the old stallion.

Over the next half hour we dug everything I'd brought with me out of my bags, which had inadvertently been my entire supply of comedy supplies. I'd scavenged a lot since I'd realized my special talent, and it showed. Most of my junk came from Ministry of Morale warehouses, wherein I'd spent most of my time running away from those crazy spritebot things. Still, I'd managed to collect many things that I thought would be funny for my routines.

Jack worked silently, yanking anything to the side we didn't need. Thanks to a little mane gel (a stallion's gotta look his best on stage after all) and some fake blood (routine with a chicken. Don't ask), I was starting to look more and more like a bloodthirsty raider. When Jack was reasonably pleased with the disguise, he thrust the rest of my things back into my bags and sent me on my way. I trotted down the ridge towards the tiny village, my fear increasing even more when I saw a row of pony heads impaled upon several pikes next to a bridge that led into the hamlet. I watched carefully as I made my way to the bridge, hoping this was going to work.

*BANG*

A gunshot came out of nowhere, causing me to jump out of my skin to the side. I glanced up, seeing a smoking rifle poking out of the trees. After checking to make sure my insides were staying inside, I looked down at the smoking hole in the ground in front of me.

“Come any closer you fuck, and I'll shoot your brains outta your skulll,” a voice said, pausing for a moment. “Actually, maybe I'll just shoot you anyways. Add you to my little collection out here.” I was starting to panic internally, but I had to do something. I had to keep my cool, or ma would be dead... and so would I.

“Oh, hey there!” I said cheerfully, waving. “Look, I don't got any problem here now do I? I mean, I'm a raider and all.”

There was a pause. I could have sworn I heard cursing under the pony's breath. “You. You're a raider.”

“Yup!” I said, smiling as wide as I could. “I mean, just look at me! I'm bloody! And covered in shit! And I got this sweet mane do! Totally a raider. I came down to Ponyville cuz I heard it was awesome for raiders. Cuz I'm a raider.” I heard rustling from the trees as a tan unicorn jumped out from the canopy. His eyes were bloodshot and his mane ragged. On his flank I could see a pair of crosshairs. I cringed at what his special talent could be. His rifle floated in his magic as he locked his eyes on me. After several excruciating moments of silence, he dropped it to his side.

“And you've come to the right place, new fish. Ponyville raiders are the best kind of raiders. Come on, follow me,” he said. I nodded, gulping loudly as I followed behind the unicorn. What have I gotten myself into? I thought frantically, before remembering why I was here. Oh, right. Ma. I'm gonna get you out of here ma! If it's the last thing I do!

“So... what do you guys do for fun around here? Besides the killing and mutilating and traumatizing we raiders loooove to do?” I said casually as I trotted along next to the tan unicorn. He grumbled under his breath and sighed heavily.

“Look, just... just shut your mouth until we get to the boss,” he said. “He'll tell you what to do.” I grimaced as we passed over the bridge into the town. I was awestruck by what the years of decay and desecration had done to the town of Ponyville. What must have once been a thriving little community before the war was now a shithole. Still, it was better looking than Trottingham on a good day.

We made our way into the town square, where several large cages had been set up. Each one held several dozen ponies. I nearly cried when I saw Ma. She was in the back of one of the cages, her head held low and crying. Her mane looked like it'd been torn to pieces and she had a nasty looking cut on her neck.

“Hey,” the unicorn said. He must have caught me staring. “Stop eying the merchandise.”

“What... what are they for?” I asked. The unicorn shrugged.

“Fuck if I know. Boss told us we're not allowed to kill them. Says they belong to Red Eye's ponies,” he replied. “It's hard too. I just wanna... I wanna gut them like the little fishies they are and spread out their entrails...” He was foaming at the mouth literally by the time he was done with his tirade.

“You... You alright there?” I asked. “You uh... don't have a whole lot of other fun, do you?”

“Huh? I'm fine,” the unicorn replied, his mad grin lessening. “And what do you mean other fun? I have lots of fun.”

“You know... laughing. Good times. I'm a comedian, or at least I was before I became a raider,” I said, cringing at my next choice of words. “I mean... entrails. They're funny, right?” The unicorn blinked twice at me.

“Entrails? They're HILARIOUS!” The raider shouted. “Now come on, we're wasting time. We need to get you to the boss, comedian.” I tried to grin, nodding frantically as I followed behind him. Within moments we arrived at what I can probably describe as the most horrifying place I'd ever seen. It was a tree house. Well, a tree library I suppose you could call it. It was burnt black in several places, the branches ending in charred sticks. There were no leaves on them, and there was blood EVERYWHERE. It covered the outside, pooling into a rivulet that soaked into the ground to the side of the massive library. An old broken down sign sat in front. I couldn't make out the words on it.

The other raider walked up casually, pushing the door open and leading me inside. If the outside of this building was horrifying, the inside was vile and wretched and insane. Bodies of ponies littered the walls, some of them pinned up in macabre poses. Many of them appeared to have been engaged in sexual acts, all while missing body parts and skin. In the center of the room, laying on one of the tables was a dead pony, his entrails splayed out for all to see.

I will admit, that it wasn't one of my better moments. I threw up. You know. Heaved, prayed to the porcelain alicorn, blew chunks, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, it was all over the unicorn next to me. He growled loudly at me, covered completely in my vomit. He was about to rip my head off before a voice stopped us both.

“STOP!” The voice shouted. I glanced up, seeing a dark navy colored earth pony wearing spiked barding and a slicked up mohawk for a mane. His eyes were crazed. “Stitch, get the fuck out of here. Go clean up, make one of the slaves lick that shit off you. I'm gonna talk to our queasy friend here.” The unicorn looked over at me, growling again before turning back.

“Sorry boss,” he said, pushing the door open and leaving the library. I was shaking in my hooves as the other pony in the room trotted up next to me.

“So, think you're a raider, huh? Think you got what it takes to be a badass? To be one of my crew?” He said. I nodded feebly. The raider leader snorted. “Fuck, look at you. You're the worst fuckin' raider I've ever seen! Raiders don't blow their chunks all over at the sight of a little blood! So...” He grinned widely, pulling out a jagged knife out of his side pocket. Within mere seconds the blade was at my throat. “Why don't you tell me who the fuck you are, and what the fuck you're doing here?”

“I... I'm just a comedian, sir... I tell jokes,” I said weakly. The raider leader's eyes glinted, hinting that he was more intelligent than the rest of his brazen brethren. He stopped and then roared in laughter.

“A fuckin' comedian?! Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?” He shouted. “C'mon then, comedian. Tell me a joke, and make it a good one.” He pressed the knife in a little, giving just enough pressure to make me squeak. “Or it'll be your fuckin' last.” My eyes almost rolled out of my head and I very nearly fainted. I wasn't quite sure what kept me on my hooves. I swallowed hard.

“Umm... okay. Why did the raider cross the street?” I said. The raider leader stared at me. I took another swallow and finished the joke. “To gut the fucker on the other side?” I waited, and waited, and waited some more for a reaction. The raider leader merely stared at me, and then suddenly the knife was gone. The raider leader started chuckling loudly.

“Too right, my friend. Too right. Alright, I like you. You can stay. But don't piss me off, or I will gut you like the stupid fuck in your joke, you got it?” He said. I nodded frantically. “Good. Go clean off and get ready for a show. The boys could use a little entertainment.” I swallowed again.

“Where... where should I go?” I said softly.

“The old schoolhouse. They've got a stage out back. It's pretty fuckin' busted, but it'll work for your show. Just be there in three hours,” the raider leader said. “Now get the fuck out of my sight. It's getting hard just lookin' at ya.” I nodded again and made for the door as fast as possible, nearly slipping on some blood on my way out. The leader of the raiders laughed again uproariously as I pushed open the door and stepped outside.

I stood there for a few good moments, trying to process what had just happened. Had I just agreed to put on a comedy show for a bunch of raiders?

There was no doubt about it. I was going to die.

************************************

After leaving the library I'd managed to hang low and find the schoolhouse where I was to perform my comedy show. I'd caught several glimpses of Ma while watching the raiders mill about the town square. It was strange, watching ponies I'd always been told were vicious, bloodthirsty killers. I hadn't seen the unicorn I'd thrown up on, but several other raiders were hanging around a table that had practically every kind of chem one could imagine. Having been around Phil's for as long as I was, I'd seen my fair share of the things. Tubes of Jet, Stampede, and bottles of Buck rested on the table, being downed in insane quantities by the raiders. How did they even stay alive after that much?

I decided that it was best of me to stay out of their way and try and put on the best show I possibly could, so I holed myself up in a large gaudy building with a sign out front that identified it as a boutique. I found a broken tall mirror and began to practice my jokes on it. After I was reasonably pleased with the performance, I left.

Three hours later, I found myself standing behind a broken down old stage at the rear of the old Ponyville schoolhouse. The curtains were tattered and stained, while the stage itself had several holes in it. Regardless, somehow the raiders had managed to rig up a microphone. I briefly wondered what else they'd used this stage for as I walked up the stairs. Reddish brown stains all over told me all that I needed to know.

The raiders were all gathered for this. Word got around quick, and pretty soon every raider in the entire town was present and accounted for. I hoped and prayed this meant that the slaves weren't being watched closely enough that Jack could get Ma out. I tried not to think about that old drunkard of an earth pony croaking up on that ridge. I gulped softly as I stepped up to the microphone, tapping it with my forehoof. I set my bags down beside me for when I would need them.

“Uh... hello,” I said, hearing my voice reverberate throughout the clearing. The raiders stopped what they were doing all at once and glared at me. I very nearly wet myself. The raiders all looked at me intently, so I figured the best thing to do was to soldier on and start the show. “Uh... well then. I'm Lame Joke. Nice to be here, I just flew in from Trottingham and boy are my legs tired!”

Silence. Absolute silence. I chuckled nervously and launched right into the next part of the routine.

“Right, so who's up for a little knock knock jokes? Eh? Alright, so... Knock, Knock?” I said. The crowd was still completely silent. I grimaced and pitched my voice up a bit. “Who's there?” “Raider!” “Raider who?” “Raider to eat you!”

*crickets*

Man... tough crowd, alright I need to break out the big guns! I thought as I racked my brain for something to talk about. I needed something that would appeal to their base senses, something... violent!

“So... a raider, a slaver, and a slave enter a bar. The bartender says 'You can't have your slave in here! Get him out!' So the raider cuts off the slave's head! And then proceeds to murder the rest of the bar,” I said, a massive grin on my face.

Utter and complete silence again. The leader of the raiders was now staring daggers at me. Geez! What's with these ponies?! Can't catch a break worth nothing around here! I decided that I'd have to get a little avant garde.

“Okay, so... three tomatoes are walkin' down the street. A papa tomato, a mama tomato, and a baby tomato. The baby tomato starts laggin' behind, and the papa tomato starts getting really angry,” I started. “So, the papa tomato goes back and smooshes the baby tomato and says 'Ketchup!'”

I closed my eyes and I prayed, harder than I ever had before. Then I heard laughter. It was a chuckle at first, but that chuckle led to a chortle, and that chortle led to a snicker, and finally it broke into uproariously loud laughing that reverberated all around me. I opened my eyes again to see that the raiders were rolling in their seats with laughter. I'd done it!! I could only hope that I'd been keeping the raiders distracted enough that they wouldn't notice –

“Somepony's lettin' the slaves out!!!” A voice shouted. One of the raiders rushed up to the group. It was clear that he hadn't been sitting out in the crowd. The raider leader stopped laughing immediately and glared at him.

“What?!” He shouted. I grimaced under the spotlight, well if there'd actually been a spotlight.

“The slaves are loose! Some old fart pony! He killed Knifey!” The other raider said. Knifey, really? Were Wasteland ponies that terrible at names? The raider leader growled.

“Well, then let's fucking get him!” He roared.

“Umm... boss, they're headed into the Everfree. We can't go in there,” the raider guard replied. I started to shift towards the back of the stage, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

“You'll go after them or I'll force feed you your entrails on a silver platter!” The leader said before turning his head right at me, noticing that I was trying to escape. “And where the fuck do you think you're going?!”

“Umm, gotta go, have a great night everypony I'll be here all week!” I squeaked as I rushed off the stage and started sprinting across the square. My Ma and Jack were in the forest, and I had to get there. The raiders began to shout and cry out after me. Gunshots echoed across the square and dust kicked up underneath my hooves.

“Get that fuck!” The raider leader shouted as his hoof beats pounded the ground beneath him. I shrieked in terror, jumping up and over a small fence that was in my way as I tried to get to the forest. The massive greenery loomed above me as I made it to the entrance. I'd never seen such lush green trees before in my life. Was this someplace that wasn't affected by the radiation? Had the war simply not occurred here?

I didn't have much time to ponder on the forest before shots and shouts pulled my attention back to the here and now. I grimaced as I stopped at a fork in the path. I decided I was going to need to lose them somehow. I growled, stomping forward off the path and into the underbrush. It was the only way I was going to get out of this alive. I panted hard, having never ran that heavily in my entire life.

Finally, the shouts died away, replaced by the sounds of the dark forest. I looked around, seeing nothing but darkness for miles. Trees and brush surrounded me, locking me in. I nearly tripped on a root, but was able to regain my footing and continue on.

“Ma?! Old Jack?!” I called out to nothingness. The sounds of crickets and the forest mocked my every movement. I was scared. Had I gone the wrong way? I kept going forward, figuring that eventually I had to hit the end of the forest and then I could double back around and find Ma and Jack. Then we could go home and be happy again. I so desperately wanted that.

I managed to push through to a clearing, elated to finally be free of the underbrush. The clearing was idyllic, lit by moonlight and home to a lovely field of vines with blue petaled flowers. I sighed and sat at the edge of it, taking a breather. I closed my eyes.

“I did it,” I said aloud without thinking. “I told a great joke! I really did it. Maybe I am cut out for this comedy stuff!” I sighed again. I knew I could do it, if I really just kept at it. I just knew it!

A slithering sound dropped me out of my reverie. I opened my eyes and spun around, looking for the source. Nothing.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anypony there?” Another slithering sound echoed from behind me. I turned around again, my eyes widening as I saw a vine coming towards my face. The blue flowers on it seemed to be taunting me as it wrapped around my face.

And then... I saw nothing.

**************************************

“So... that's my story, and I'm sticking to it... but the story doesn't exactly end there, now does it?” I say, grinning widely. “No... it definitely doesn't. After I woke up... well, I guess... after my eyes reopened that is... I was... well... different.”

A vine slithers through the underbrush, caressing the leg of the pony. He squirms, tries to get away. Idon't really understand why. After all, I'm just a comedian. A jester. I make ponies laugh, not cry.

“Oh now don't try and get away... you're ruining the fun,” I say. “And I was having so much fun, you know that... right?”

The pony tries to scream, but he can't. A vine is wrapped around his mouth, preventing it. I frown.

“All I wanted was somepony to listen to my show... You see... I never did see Ma or Old Jack ever again. I don't even know if they made it out of the forest alive,” I say, waving a vine in the air. “But I did get to find the ultimate joke. Oh yes... I truly did.”

The pony tries to scream louder, but its muffled cries can't be heard through the vine. Tears are streaming down the pony's eyes.

“Oh... and about our little bet... I bet that I would get ya, didn't I?” I say, my razor sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

“Well... looks like I got ya.”

A crunch, a scream, and then finally... silence.

Author's Note

This is volrathxp here, and this is my contribution to this awesome ABCs of FoE project. I hope you enjoyed this little dark slice of Wasteland life. My letter for this contribution was the letter 'Z', and while I'm sure many would think that the letter Z lends itself to Zebras and Zebra related things, you'd be wrong! Instead I decided to step inside the chimney a little bit, and work up a macabre little tale of dark comedy starring the worst comedian in the Wasteland.

I hope you sincerely enjoyed this. I'd like to thank G-Man for giving me this opportunity to stretch my linguistic muscles a little and also I'd like to thank Wirepony and McMesser for all their help in edits/pre-reads. You guys make me so much better at this, and I greatly appreciate it.

See you kids on the dark side,

Volrathxp on Patreon

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