“Oh please! Tell me something I don’t know,” Bon-Bon said.
So I did. I told her how almonds were a member of the peach family. Another thing she didn’t know was that baby robins eat fourteen worms a day. She also didn’t know that half of all bank robberies take place on a friday. Bon-Bon became irritated when I mentioned that bees have five eyes, three small ones on the top of their head and two larger ones on the front.
“Lyra, I was being ironic when I told you to tell me something I didn’t know, not list every useless tidbit.”
I shrugged my shoulders, and said, “I’m sorry, I thought they might have been interesting.” In some ways I was right, but she wouldn’t admit it. Much of our day has been ruined due to the ongoing rain. It was kind of strange how this morning the sun was shining in the clear blue sky, only for the dark storm clouds to arrive to hold the daystar hostage.
Rainy days always remind me of sad-looking clowns for some reason. I’m not sure why.
The boredom intensified when Bon-Bon let out an audible huff, so she grabbed a magazine she kept hidden under the cushion of our couch. It was a home decorating magazine, not really one of my interests. The rain splashed outside our home like falling bombs. I didn’t know why I was still sitting here. Was I waiting for something to happen? I hope not.
I thought about my philosophy instructor back in college. Everyday before she began class she would ask her students a question. If a student tried to answer it, she would follow it with another question, and another question, until the class got irritated and begged her to begin the lecture.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“... In class.”
“Are you sitting?”
“... Yes.”
“Are you sure you are sitting?”
“How could I be not sitting?”
“Do you think that’s air you're breathing?”
“Yes.”
“Does air have meaning?”
It goes on like that. I can’t remember if I had passed or not. I can’t even remember the point of her questions. Maybe she was just that crazy. It doesn’t matter. I heard she got fired for something. I spot the remote on the table and grab it. The TV showed us a game of golf. It’s so bright and sunny outside, and the grass is richly green. The golfer on the tube swings his club and the white ball flew across the field. It missed the hole.
There’s a fitting metaphor in that scene somewhere, I can’t figure out what it means. Oh well. Another golfer paced himself for his swing. He raised his arms steadily, glaring at the tiny white ball like it owed him money, then swung with all his might. Like the last one, this one flew across the field as well. It landed a few inches above the first ball. Soft clapping ensued. Why aren’t there any loud applause and cheers during golf games like the other sports. I guess fillies in skirts cheering for stallions in khakis would seem out of place.
I grew tired of watching the golf game, so I changed the channel. An old black and white movie was playing. The camera panned toward an old-looking stallion sitting at a desk smoking a cigar. By listening to the melancholy saxophone in the background I indicated this was one of those hard boiled detective movies. The next shot showed a younger stallion wearing a coat and a fedora.
“Doyle,” the fedora pony said.
“Fritz. I thought I smelled your stench from here. Whadaya want?”
“I got the stuff…”
“... Just leave it on the doorstep and get the heck out of here!”
“Alright Doyle, but what about my money?”
“... What money?”
“Ace said you had some dough for me.”
“... Is that a fact? How much do I owe you?”
“Ace said ten percent.”
“Too bad Ace ain’t in charge no more. He’s upstairs taking a bath.”
Why would a stallion tell another stallion that some other stallion was taking a bath? Unless… who am I kidding? Nonetheless, I was interested to see where this scene was going.
“Hey! I’ll tell you what I’m about to give you, Fritz,” the old stallion named Doyle said. He stood up, not before searching behind his desk for something, and held one of those machine guns they used in the other gangster movies, and pointed it at Fritz. “I’m gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow, no-good keister off my property, before I pump your guts full of lead!”
“Alright Doyle, I’m sorry! I’m going!”
“One, two, ten!” The one named Doyle fired his gun, and multiple bullets made Fritz fall to the floor. Even when Fritz was already dead, Doyle did not stop shooting. He continued to create critical damage to his ruined body by adding more bullet holes to his back while laughing maniacally. He stopped shooting, looked at me, and said, “Keep the change, you filthy animal.”
“Wow,” I said. “that was the most violent thing I ever seen. Movies were a lot different back then.”
“I don’t see any difference,” Bon-Bon said, “just yesterday you watched a psychopath hack some poor mare’s head off. And that one just came out last year.” I thought Bon-Bon was reading her magazine.
Apparently the movie was ended, unresolved. Or the plot was resolved, only I came in at the last minute. I reminded myself to rent the movie, only to remember that Ponyville’s only video store ran out of business. So I changed the channel. I was surprised to see Pinkie Pie on TV. She was jumping up and down in front of a store. “Hey Bon, Pinkie’s on TV,” I said.
“She is?”
“Yeah, look!”
Pinkie grinned at the camera, and announced, “Come to Jack’s Joke Shop! We have all the classics right here! Squirting flower? We got it! Joy buzzer? We got that too! Rubber chicken? You betcha! Whoopie cushion? Why not? You can’t get enough of these gags! They’re perfect for April Fools, company picnics, or funerals! Come to Jack’s Joke Shop, where the joke is on you!”
And with that, the commercial ended.
“Hey Bon-Bon, after it rains you want to go to Jack’s Joke Shop?”
“Why? You’re not planning to pull any pranks are you?”
“Maybe I am, maybe not.”
Bon squinted her eyes at me. I know that look. She sends me that look everyday. I just smile back. I check the rain outside. It appears to be slowing down, but the dark clouds still hung in the sky. Another program came on. Two young colts, probably in high school, were sitting in a park bench. One was slightly tall and had a short black mane, the only was shorter than him and had a moderately long yellow mane.
“Huey,” the tall colt said with his dumb bass-like voice, “someday, I’m gonna be the first pony to walk on the sun.”
An invisible audience laughed at his remark.
“But ‘Ol Blue, you can’t walk on the sun! You’ll burn up,” the one called Huey said.
“See, I thought about it… I’m gonna go at night.”
The invisible audience laughed harder at the one called ‘Ol Blue. I feel bad for him. His dream is to walk on the giant ball of glowing helium and fire. Who are we to laugh at him for his ambitions?
I decided to change the channel.
What I saw I was not prepared for.
Or maybe I was.
A minty-coated mare, just like me, sat on the couch with the remote pointed at the TV screen. She looked bored. I was shocked, numb, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. I couldn’t move my arm. In fact, I couldn’t move my body at all. My mouth hung open that a fly can just come right in.
“Oh my gosh…”
“Lyra, what is it?” Bon asked without taking her eyes off her magazine.
“Uh, it’s nothing. Just thinking about something.”
The Lyra on the TV yawned, and the audience loved her. I couldn’t tell if this was real or not. I turned to Bon-Bon, and she was still reading her magazine. I close my eyes for a minute and opened them again, but I was still on the screen. This horrified me to no end.
The doorbell rang and TV Lyra climbed out of the couch. She opened the door, and wouldn’t you know it, Bon-Bon appeared. The audience gave her a round of applause.
“Hey Bon-Bon.”
Cheers.
“Hi Lyra.”
More cheers.
“How’s it going?”
Laughter.
“Great.”
Laughter and Cheers.
I watched the program for what seemed like an eternity. One scene involved me placing a whoopie cushion on a chair Bon-Bon was going to sit on. Once she sat down she made an embarrassing flatulent noise. The audience couldn’t get enough of my antics.
“Whoa! Bon-Bon, what did you eat?”
“Lyra, that wasn’t nice.”
The Lyra on TV thought about it, then her head sunk. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” The audience gave their collective “awws.”
“That’s okay.” Bon-Bon and Lyra hugged, and the audience clapped. Then the show ended. The ending credits rolled, and the announcer said, “The Lyra and Bon-Bon Show was filmed in front of a live studio audience.”
“How is that possible?” I asked.
“How is what possible,” Bon-Bon said. Not once did she realized what was going on.
“Um, you’re not going to believe this.”
“I never believe anything you say.”
Before I could explain what had just transpired, another program came on. A clown was riding on a unicycle, juggling custard pies while laughing like a hyena. Children in the audience laughed and cheered. Suddenly, the clown fell off his unicycle and the custard pies fell on his face. The children cheered louder than ever. Circus music played in the background.
Then the clown wasn’t laughing anymore. He wiped the custard off his face, which revealed an unearthly frown. Something about this clown didn’t sit well with me. He dropped his clown act, and glared at the camera. “Are you not entertained?! Are you not entertained?! Is this not why you are here?!” The clown rode out of the studio on his unicycle, leaving the audience confused and frightened.
My hooves stumbled for the remote and I quickly changed the channel. I gaze at Bon-Bon, who returned to her magazine. Her willingness to become oblivious to this ordeal scared me. Or maybe she has seen it all, which I am frightened for as well.
The next channel had me, Bon-Bon, and a cat wearing a headband doing jumping jacks. I immediately changed the channel.
It went like this for a while. During one show I was wearing a black trench coat and was throwing bananas at security guards. When I changed the channel again, there I was holding a lion cub while the other jungle animals worshiped him. I could feel my mind slipping away from me. I wanted to call for help, but I was the only one who could hear it. The next show was a horrifying one. I invited all our friends to a party. Then, out of nowhere, I hold a cake with dynamite used for candles, and held it to Fluttershy’s face. I quickly changed the channel before the explosion could obliterate everypony.
I saw the frowning clown again. I custard pie was dripping from his head. He seems to be angry at me. “Are you still not entertained?!” he asked. “Do you not like what you see?! Do I have to disco dance for you?! Here, let me do it!” A disco studio flashed before my eyes and the clown danced to the rhythm of the music. “How do you like that?! I know you hate it!” I changed the channel.
The next program took place on a spaceship. So far, nothing out of the ordinary was happening. That is until I heard the terrible shriek of a helpless mare, followed by a roar of a deadly creature.
“Lyra, can you turn that down?” Bon-Bon asked. I was going to press the button that lowered the volume, but after what I saw on TV, my priorities were skewered. I saw myself once again, this time in a starfleet uniform. I was screaming for help. An actor wearing a poorly-designed alien costume was chasing me around the main bridge. The actor in the rubber suit finally grabbed me and restrained me to a table with rope.
“And now, my pretty, I shall eat your brain!” the rubber alien said. Space Lyra screamed while the rubber alien licked her forehead repeatedly. He grabbed a knife and fork out of nowhere and inched closer to the helpless unicorn.
I quickly changed the channel just as Space Lyra's brain was being eaten. I was out the hard boiled crime movie I was watching earlier. For reason I catch this movie near the end. How was that possible when two different channels were airing it. I waited for Fritz to appear behind the door so he can be blown to bits by Doyle. The door opened.
It wasn't Fritz. It was me.
"Lyra, I thought I smelled your stench from here. Whadaya want?"
"I got the stuff..."
"Just leave it on the doorstep and get the heck out of here!"
Everything was leading up to me getting shot at. My hoof was stiff. I wanted to stop watching, but my eyes were glued to the screen. Why do I torture myself like this? After the banter the part finally came where Doyle grabs his machine gun, and aims it at me. "I'm gonna give you to the count of ten to get your ugly, yellow, no-good keister off my property, before I pump your guts full of lead!"
He only counted to two, and went to ten by skipping the other numbers, and shot at me. I fell to the ground, bullets on my chest and on my back. Just as before he laughed like a psychopath. The shower of bullets continued to descend on me. The scene lasted longer than the first time I saw it. When it was over, my face flinched when Doyle locked me in the eyes, and said, "Keep the change, you filthy animal."
That’s when I turned the TV off.
I breathed heavily. It was the most surreal experience I had in my life. I had no idea if it was just a bad dream, or just a hallucination. Was I going crazy? Did I not get enough sleep? I wiped the sweat from her head. My hooves shook. I gazed at the dark screen on the television. What will happen if I turned it back on? What horrible thing involving me will I see this time? I swallowed the excess saliva in my mouth. I begin the fear that I have gone mad.
“Hey, it stopped raining,” Bon-Bon said. I turned toward the window, and sure enough the sun was shining gloriously once again. We saw little birds bathing themselves on the water puddles, and I was relieved to see the welcoming blue sky. “Thank goodness,” I said.
“Lyra, why are so sweaty?” Bon-Bon asked.
“I… I don’t know.” I stared at the TV for a few moments. None of this made any sense. But then again, it didn’t have to. I think the TV was trying to tell me something. I gaze at the blue sky outside of the window, and guess that I needed some fresh air.
“Bon, you wanna go for a walk?”
“Oh, sure. That’ll be great.”
In times like these, I forget how the day began. I don’t remember what set it off. But what I do remember is inhaling the fresh spring breeze and feeling the relaxing warmth of the sun on my coat. The images from the television are still fresh in my mind, but after this walk with my best friend, it will just be another funny story. But until that happens, I kept close eye on the clown riding the unicycle who came out every Wednesday.
