Fleetwood Rides Again

After the paperwork had been taken care of and submitted, The Broughams of Ponyville began the task of moving their possessions to the old manor in Everfree Forest. Most of the furniture was relatively small, but the real trouble came with moving a large, mahogany desk.

“Lift HARDER,” strained Eldorado, his legs trembling.

“I’m, trying, I’m trying!”

“Tryin’ AIN’T ENOUGH!” the skinny old stallion snapped back. “I’m ‘bout t’break m’god-dang back here, so TOUGHEN UP, or-”

  As if on queue, Eldorado’s back made a crunching noise. He howled in pain, falling forward, and hitting his head on the desk he had dropped.

“Oh, dear CELESTIA, DAD!” Fleetwood rushed over to his father, laying him down on the couch. His heart fluttered with panic. How bad was he hurt? Was he going to be alright?

He imagined what his life would be like without Eldorado… HE would run the dealership.. HE would be the patriarch of the family. Perhaps this would be the big break he’d always-

“Yep,” Eldorado grunted, rubbing his back.

“Ah’ll be fine.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“What was that?”

“Erm… erm..” Fleetwood stammered, trying to think of an excuse. “Erm, uh.. How can I help?”

“Look, it’s apparent we can’t move this truck by ourselves. You go get a Unicorn t’lift it. I don’t want no God-dang filthy mule in here. ‘s’ bad fer business.”

“..Yeah, sure thing.” Fleetwood started towards the door, looking back at his father one more time. “Don’t worry, dad, I’ll be quick!”

“You BETTER BE, y’little wuss!”

As the brown stallion trotted down the road, he wondered where he could find a Unicorn. It wasn’t too long before he found himself at Carousel Boutique.

A wild thought hit him.

“...No, no, buck that,” he chuckled, shaking his head. She wouldn’t possibly do that for him! Not in a million years! After what had happened with Spike and her years ago, they probably still hated him. But, another thought struck his mind. He had, in a sick way, brought her and the little bugger together. Perhaps they would show him SOME gratitude?

Sighing, he approached the doorstep, and rapped on it, marching in place nervously.

“Spikey, get the door!”

“Yes, love.”

Lo and behold, who would open the door but Spike himself? The little dragon was utterly speechless when he came face to face with his former mentor. In fact, he looked like his eyes were about to bulge right out of his head, from the look of pure shock and disbelief. But, before Fleetwood could say a thing, the door was slammed in his face.

Summoning up more courage, he knocked again, this time louder. Spike answered yet again, now looking more bemused than surprised.

“What do you want?”

“H-hey, Spike!” the pegasus laughed, scratching the back of his head, “Can you do me a favor?”

“It depends,” the little fellow countered, giving him another sidelong glance, “what do you need, and what’s in it for me?”

“Well, I’d like to see your old lady.”

“....” Spike was less than thrilled.

“After all you’ve caused us, after all the emotional CRAZY STUFF you put us through..You want our HELP?!”

And, then it got worse. Rarity approached, taking in everything going on.

“Spikey-Wikey, I just finished the new R.J. Coltfield Spring line! Would you like to-” She stopped mid-sentence, and brandished a firepoker with her telekinesis. “WE DON’T ALLOW STRAYS IN THE HOUSE!” she started wailing, swiping at Fleetwood wildly. He began to back up, now trying the best he could to calm this mad mare down.

“N-now, hold on a minute, Ms. Rarity, I-I have a proposition!”

“A PROPOSITION?!” She began to swing more wildly now, Spike doing absolutely nothing to stop her. “The last time we listened to one of YOUR PROPOSITIONS, I woke up VIOLATED, WITH A NASTY HANGOVER!”

“NO!” He began to plead, down on his knees. “All I want to do is move out! My father strained his back, and we can’t move our furniture! If you use your telekinesis to move it FOR US, I will be out of here, and NEVER BOTHER EITHER OF YOU AGAIN!”

“Hm..” Rarity had now calmed down a bit, and was smirking. “You are a pathetic little colt, Mr. Brougham. To think, you would ask for a MARE’S help? Pah! It’s simply unthinkable.” She dropped the fire poker all together, now looking quite pleased with herself. “Very well. I will help you. But I want you gone. Forever BANISHED from my realm. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, ma’am!”

“Good.”

The moving then proceeded without much incident. Rarity was particularly rough with some of the older, more ornate furniture. She seemed to take satisfaction in it, simply tossing it into the moving truck, and purposely bumping his nightstand on the metal door frames of the dealership. But, after a while, the job was done, and they were ready to set off.

Wilcox was particularly emotional, and even started to tear up.

“Don’t LEAVE, MR. BROUGHAM!” He begged, hanging on Fleetwood’s coattails, “THINK OF ALL THE FUN TIMES!”

“Wilcox,” he explained, gently pushing away from the tan colt’s grasp, “We’re only moving. My dad’s still running Ponyville Cadillac-Buick-Chevrolet, and I’ll still be around. But, I have important things to take care of. I’m not a colt anymore. And, if I’m gonna keep my family name of Brougham, I ought to do something remarkable.”

“Which would be?” Mel replied gruffly, wiping his oily hooves on his overalls, “All yer doin’ is movin’ into a decrepit-ass manor house, with some land infested with changelings. Completely inhospitable. All of it.”

“That’s just it!” The brown stallion aged forty exclaimed, “I will MAKE it hospitable. I will make Everfree County a place worth LIVING! A valuable part of Equestria!”

Mel and some of the small crowd that had gathered to watch the drama erupted in laughter. The plan seemed dubious. Fleetwood’s heart sunk for a moment, until he saw Wilcox, upright and rigid. He looked like a General, he thought, almost like his politician mother. The young apprentice mechanic extended his hoof to shake.

Fleetwood took it instantly.

“Godspeed, Mr. Brougham,” Wilcox sighed hopefully, “May our paths cross in the f-”

“Aw, C’MON!” Eldorado wailed, laying on the U-Lug’s horn, “Can we get this OVER WITH? I ain’t been in th’ancestral home’a mah family fer THIRTY YEARS, an’ we have a chance t’GO BACK! Cut the emotional crap, and LET’S HIT THE ROAD.”

“Coming dad!” He started toward the truck’s passenger side, shutting the rear doors, but turned back to Wilcox. “Godspeed to you too, buddy,” he responded softly, a slight smile creeping across his face, “Godspeed.”

And, with that, the truck was gone, bouncing along the rutted, dirt roads of Ponyville. With every mile, they were farther away from their old life. The old life filled with one-night stands, booze and reckless gambling. Filled with broken promises, and disgusting habits. Greater things lay ahead, and a destiny was to be fulfilled.

Fleetwood threw a rock, hitting the Sweet Apple Acres mailbox as it passed. Just as he did on race day, for the last twenty years.