The Courtship of Clementine by The Fillyfooler, Pretzel Poemby Robo00ChaptersThe Mild, Mild West.Failures and FrustrationsOf Pretzels and PoemsCrouching Gossamer, Hidden PretzelThe Mild, Mild West.The Courtship of Clementine by the Fillyfooler, Pretzel Poem by Robo00 Chapter 1: The Mild, Mild West The (rather long) train ride from Canterlot to Sweetwater has been rather uneventful. It has given me a chance to reread some of my favorite novels. The Tragedy of Elm Tree and Gold Leaf, Love in the marshes, The Young Mare's guide to Romance. Despite my love of (trashy, I'd admit) romance novels, I myself has never fallen in love or had the need to. Yes, just me and my books. "SWEETWATER! NEXT STOP, SWEETWATER!" yelled the rather loud unicorn porter. I shook myself from my reverie, adjusted my eyeglasses, and proceeded to gather my luggage (no easy feat for an Earth Pony). A warm breeze and the stench of pig manure greeted me as I stepped of the train. "Lo, ponies of Sweetwater! I, Pretzel Poem bring you knowledge, the arts,...SOAP!" The townsponies just went about their daily routine, ignoring the screaming (but intelligent) loony before them. I decided to announce myself again. "It's me the new teacher. You know, knowledge, arts, soap." No answer. "I'M THE NEW SCHOOLMARM, YOU GAP-TOOTHED, FOUL SMELLING HICKS!" "Yeah, we heard ya th' first time." called out a voice behind me. I spun around and seen the most mangiest being that ever held to moniker of "pony". An Earth Pony with a rust colored coat and the dirtiest, dirty blonde mane and tail I'd ever did see, and his teeth. Dear Celestia, his teeth. They were all wooden and they were still rotten. His fashion sense almost out did his teeth with a moth eaten hat and vest. "Um, hello...my dear...Er..." "Th' folks 'round here call me Woody.", and with that "Woody" spat some unidentified substance into a spittoon. I stared at this pony for a good thirty seconds with my emotions wavering between disgust and absolute disgust. "So, whatja want?" "My good...stallion. I am Pretzel Poem and I'm here to apply for the job of school teacher." He eyed me with some suspicion. "Yer th' new...PTEW...schoolmarm? I'd better bring you to the sheriff." I walked downwind of him as he took me to the sheriff. "So, Woody was it," I said, trying to hold my breath, "Are you the deputy?" "Yep! I'm on my sixth sheriff." "Sixth?" Here comes that sinking feeling. I heard the lives of lawman were fleeting in these western towns but I never believed them to be true. "Th' Bloodhoof Gang. The most violent outlaws this side of th' west." We stood in front of the sheriff's office. My scruffy, vile smelling companion proceeded to call the sheriff. "HEY SHERIFF GOSSAMER! TH' NEW SCHOOLMARM IS HERE!" And he had the nerve to complain about my entrance. The double doors swung open and out stepped Sheriff Gossamer, the biggest fop ever to wear a badge. Seeing him stand next to Woody and you could see they were different as night and day. Thankfully, the sheriff HAS heard of good hygiene with his neatly coiffed golden blond mane and dazzling white coat. Yes, Sheriff Gossamer looked more like a Canterlot noble than a rough and tumble lawman. "So, you're the new schoolmare." The unicorn gave me the visual once over. "Welcome to Sweetwater, Miss..." "Pretzel Poem." The (somewhat annoying) sheriff tip his hat to me. Well, chivalry sure isn't dead around him. But something about him grated on me. Was it his foppish attitude or the somewhat condescending look he gave me. "I never seen an Earth Pony teacher before." "Well, I never seen an unicorn sheriff before." I countered, wanting to put this idiot in his place. "Touché." said the smarmy bastard as he shook my hoof. "Let me show you around." Oh, will the Great and Powerful Gossamer take poor little me under his wing. My bile for this pony was overflowing to capacity. So we went on our little tour through town with our first stop being the...ugh...undertaker. The outside of the funeral parlor was decorated in Early Demonic with a large bull's skull above the. I didn't even want to think how he got it as we stepped inside. "Oh, Mr Pale Horse! I want to introduce you to the schoolmare." Out from the back room, Pale Horse emerged and I never seen a more frightening individual. Like Gossamer, Pale Horse was a unicorn with a white coat and that's where the similarities end. His cheeks were sunken in, like a skeleton's with a black jacket draped over his tall and gaunt frame. A similarly colored top hat rested above his horn But that wasn't the most scary thing about him, it was his constant smiling that chilled my blood. He walked towards us with a tape measure hovering near his head. "So...ehehheheh...you are the new giver of knowledge to the empty vessels of the town, am I right...heh heh heh." He then proceeded to measure an oblivious Gossamer. "In good health, sheriff? No serious illnesses or gravely infected wounds?" Gossamer just threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Pale Horse! You crack me up!" I took the time to look around the room. Row after row of empty coffins were before me. Well, mostly empty. In the corner, four legs belonging to a late pony in the onset of rigor mortis stuck out of a large coffin. "Back to you, madam. Do you have a name?" "I'm Pretzel Poem and I came from Canterlot." "Hmmm. I see. Canterlot. Fascinating." "Oh , yes. See, I came a somewhat large family and...ARE YOU MEASURING ME FOR A COFFIN?!" "You can never be too careful, Madam. You can go anytime. The good always die young. Heh heh heh." The color left me until I was almost as pale as my two "companions". I wanted to run screaming and catch the next train back to Canterlot, away from this madhouse they called a town. "You look a little peaked, Miss Poem. Why don't we stop at the saloon for refreshments." said Gossamer, with that idiotic grin still plastered on his face. We left out of the double doors with Pale Horse calling back to us. "Come again. Heh heh heh heh heh." Now I officially want to vomit. I only met three ponies in this forsaken hellhole they called a town and already I loathed this place. Woody bolted ahead of us at breakneck speed towards the saloon. "Figures, he's an alcoholic." I muttered to myself. "And we're here. Behold the Prancing Pussycat Saloon!" It was a pleasant enough establishment. Not particularly clean but not particularly filthy either. The clientele on the other hand... "Y'all occupyin' the space perpendicular to me!" "I can be perpendicular all I want." "Dems fightin' words!" And with that the two stallion discussed things in an intelligent and nonviolent manner. But instead they proceeded to beat the hell out of each other with chairs. My eyes rolled into the back of my head so hard, I became intimate with my own brain. Of course, all this testosterone flavored ballet went unnoticed by Woody, who was already on his fifth glass of...whatever. The portly unicorn bartender just shook his head as me and Gossamer "bellied up to the bar" as it were. "Greetin' sheriff. What can I do you for." "I would like some sparkling spring water." Of course, all the roughest, toughest cowpokes drank sparkling spring water. I just facehoofed and spared myself the aneurysm. "And the young lady would like a..." "An apple cider. Cold and in a clean glass." "CLEM! Come serve these two! I gotta git to th' bank before they close!" yelled the bartender into the backroom. "So Shotglass." said Gossamer, with an even smarmier grin than usual. "How is the delightful Clementine?" "Doin' as expected, sheriff. She's still th' lil' firecracker. And this is..." "My name is Pretzel Poem, my dear sir." "Y'all sound like one of them uppity Canterlot Ponies." "Well, actually I'm from..." "Save it. See ya later, son...I mean sheriff." Shotglass smirked at Gossamer as he left, he mood lighter ever since he seen Gossamer. Well, at least he has one pony in his fan club. Gossamer soon started primping and preening. Does he always carry a mirror with him? "I got to look my best when Clem gets here." he said as he applied a generous amount of breath spray to his throat. All I could do is roll my eyes (again). Love was always, to me at least, a silly emotion. Yes, despite my somewhat hypocritical love of romance novels, I am what they called a cold fish. I never dated in high school or had any type of meaningful crush. Life has a way of making one eat their words. "Hey! Stop that fightin', over there." Every stallion in the bar was transfixed on the counter. The raucous bar fight had ended as quickly as it began as they turned toward the counter. "Ah, Clem. So glad to see you." I turned my head toward the subject of Gossamer's little quip. My jaw dropped like all the other stallions. Behind the counter, before my very eyes, stood a goddess. No, not a goddess. There was no word in Equestria that described such beauty that transcended divinity itself. Oh, how I adored this mare that was made for me and me alone. Her off white coat was tinted with the slightest hint of yellow. Clementine's azure locks were bound into the cutest "ponytail" I'd ever seen. And those eyes, a dazzling ruby red. She was no less a pony than she was a work of art. My heart was caught in my throat as I gazed at the god-empress of my soul before me. ECSTASY, THY NAME IS CLEMENTINE! "You ordered the cider, miss." "Guh?" "Yes, th' cider." "Ci-der?" I sputtered, my brain no longer a solid mass but a bowl of jelly devastated by the adorable Clementine. "Yeah. You know, the stuff made out of apples." "Ap-ples?" "Don't mind her, Clem. She's just tired after a long day." horned in Gossamer, while I stared off into space, dreaming about our beautiful house, spacious back yard, and our magical lesbian spawn. "Y'know sheriff, there was sumthing in the back of my mind..." "You aught to get checked for that, Woody. That might cause trouble for you in the long run." Okay, now I know. Gossamer IS that stupid. "Well, if it was important I woulda remembered." said Woody, as he downed his seventh glass. "I'll show Miss Poem to the hotel." I temporarily shook myself from increasingly sexually perverted fantasies involving Clementine and peanut butter to address Woody. "Oh, pish-posh, my dear Woody. I'm sure I can locate the hotel." "If y'all lookin' for th' hotel, it's across th' street and to th' left between th' drugstore and th' whorehouse." chimed Clementine. She sounded so cute even saying the word "whorehouse". The day is slowly giving away to the evening and my body needed a decent dinner and sleep for the busy day I'm sure to have tomorrow. I dreamily left the bar and followed Woody and the sheriff out when Clementine called after me. "I hope we can talk when you're feelin' better, Miss Poem." My glasses fogged up as i felt my entire body become flushed. Someponies would say it's the liquor talking but I had nary a drop. A drunkeness has over taken my body but it would was caused by something I'd couldn't explain. No, it was something I'd DIDN'T want to explain. Me. The pony looked on as the mare with her nose in a book, her only knowledge of love came from the cheesy bodice rippers that she read in her spare time. Now, not only have I fallen in love I fell in the worst kind of love. Love at first sight. And with somepony who was the same gender, no less. I skipped all the way to the hotel, happy as a lark. When I first came here, this whole town seemed to be conceived only to vex me (at best) but I have did a complete (and somewhat) hasty 180. Yes sir, nothing would bring me down again. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE SCHOOL TEACHER JOB HAS ALREADY BEEN FILLED?!" I backed Woody into the wall, utter hatred burning in my eyes. He looked nonplussed for somepony who was about to die in the most hideous way possible. And believe me, I thought of five hundred in the past minute. "No need ta shout, Pretzel." he said as he walked around me, since I was nearly paralyzed with extreme fury. "I just remembered this mornin'. No biggie." "NO BIGGIE?! I came to this damned town for nothing?!" I took several deep breaths as I slowly calmed down (at least I didn't want to tear Woody's heart out and show it to him while it was still beating). "So...tell me about this mare." "Well, she's an Earth Pony, like you and she comes from Canterlot, like you." Anger and murderous rage started to fill me again. "Take me to the school, Woody." I growled. With a shrug of his shoulders he led me to the schoolhouse. It was quaint little red building with a group of foals and their parents crowding the new schoolmare. My suspicions were proven correct. Her! The evil returned to my life! "PERSIMMON PEPPER!" I roared, frightening several foals, their parents, and many animals in a three mile radius. Persimmon looked at me with that obnoxious smirk she always had on that face of hers. She threw back her head and started to chuckle. "Ohhohoho. If it isn't Pretzy. Like always you're a day late and a bit short." I stared at her, teeth grinding and eyes narrowed. "It is on, Percy." I seethed as I walked towards my arch nemesis. "It. is. ON!" Author's Note Any similarities to anypony living, dead, or background is purely coincidental. So, comments? Failures and FrustrationsChapter 2: Failures and Frustrations Persimmon Pepper. By themselves the words are at best, cute but combined they form the name of the most evil pony ever. Oh, how I LOATHED her! I'd figure she would be the one who'd would ruin my life. The only way this moment could get any worse is if she'd invited my entire immediate family (and that's a whole lot of pony) and forced me to wear a clown suit. "So Percy." I said, trying to be as cool as a cucumber, "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" That obnoxious, smug smirk was still plastered on her face. She gleefully spun around, showing off that ugly green and white schoolmarm outfit. The group of confused foals and their parents looked on at the pathetic spectacle before them. "Really, Pretzy. Late again as usual." The venom just dripped out of her mouth as she brought her hoof to her mouth, threw her head back and cackled (again). "OHHOHOHOHOHO!" A sane mare would have retrieved the sheriff, namely since the deputy was right there, and had everything handled in a fair and an impartial manner. It's a shame I wasn't a sane mare. "This was my job, you pastel slattern! Mine, mine, MINE!" Not the best comeback in the world but at this point I didn't care. I was livid beyond livid. Low growling sounds escaped my muzzle, making me sound like some sort of crazed beast pacing in it cage at the zoo. "Oh, Pretzy, Pretzy, Pretzy. I know you heard the phrase "The early bird catches the worm"",she sneered. "Of course, a little sweet talk helps. "Calling it sweet talk, now aren't we." "Then call it, taking the initiative." Persimmon said. "CALL IT SLEEPING AROUND, YOU SKANK!" Now I really wanted to strangle her within an inch of her life. "Who was it? The mayor? The superintendent?" "That is a really low blow, Pretzy." Persimmon said, crocodile tears forming in her eyes. "And for your information, it was the superintendent's brother." I decided to play my trump card against this promiscuous bore and thrust my hoof in Woody's direction. "BWAHAHAHA! Foolish Percy, behold...THE DEPUTY! Ergo, I also know the sheriff! BWAHAHA..." "Hi Woody." "Hello, Miss Pepper." My mouth hung open as I just remembered the small flaw in my hasty plan. Oh yes. Since she was here first, they probably met already,I thought, utterly defeated. "Oh, poor little Pretzy. I'm sure there is a job opening for somepony with your talents. All we have to do is find somepony that would hire drab asexual bookworms with glasses. I'm sure the nursing home is right up your alley, just don't let them mistake you for a resident." "Well...I...er...YOUR MOTHER!" And with that (poorly thought-out) last word I stormed off leaving behind my most hated rival, the foul smelling sheriff's deputy, a gaggle of confused foals, and their irritated parents who would most assuredly try to explain all the bad language their young one absorbed. I stormed through the town in a mood most foul. HOW DARE SHE!, I thought, wanting to scream it out on top of the largest building. Then it hit me. No job means no money and no money means no home. My head hung low as my angry stomping became a sad gait. What to do. What to do. "Watch where ya walkin', ya dumb idjet!" In my fogginess, I seem to have bumped into an elderly mare. A rather angry elderly mare. Rule number one, as told to me by my mother, be polite to your elders. I gracefully bowed to her to beg her forgiveness. "Beg your pardon,ma'am." WHACK! She proceeded to hit me on the head several times with her bag. Oh, how this town DESPISES me. The old crone stopped trying to introduce blunt force trauma to my already aching head and thrust a large heavy crate into me. "Ya'll can make it up to me by loadin' these boxes into the wagon!" The old mare stormed back into a building with a placard that read "GREENGROCER'S GROCERIES. A smaller sign underneath read "GOING OUT OF BUSINESS FOREVER". "So I take it you're Greengrocer." I said, trying to make small talk as I hoisted another heavy crate into the wagon. "No, I'm Princess Celestia. Of course I'm Greengrocer, ya jackass!" The mare spat back. "I was just trying to..." "Less yappin', more loadin'!" This mare and and her formally charming now grating "corn pone" accent was starting to annoy me. I decided to shut my mouth lest I incur another rustic tongue lashing. My ears perked up at a heavenly sound all of the sudden. "You can't be leavin' too, missus Greengrocer?" Clementine! My heart started to sing when it heard her. Of course, the racket irritated the butterflies in my stomach. "TURN OFF THAT RACKET!", they seemed to say as they banged on the wall. "Yep, I'm leavin'! An' you an' your pappy better leave, too! If'n ya'll know what's good for ya." Against my better judgement, I decided to insert myself into the conversation. Like, what the worst that could happen. Greengrocer could hit me again. Clementine could think I was a (bigger) fool. I could catch on fire, be eaten by wild animals, wet myself, and so on. "May I inquire about the current happenings in town that would have you to leave?" "Big Oil." Clementine growled, saying the two words like they were some sort of ancient curse that mustn't be said. "Um...Big...er...Oil?" I meekly asked. A fire of pure anger lit up in Clementine's eyes. The name (if it was a name) struck an unpleasant chord with her. "Yes, Big Oil! Only th' worse pony ever!", Clementine was becoming more angry as she continued. "He been buyin' up the town." "So...um...that's bad?" "YOU'RE DANG RIGHT, THAT'S BAD!" Clementine's voice now became a roar. "That skunk been cheatin' ponies out of their homes and livelyhoods for th' last couple of months." "Well, why don't you call the authorities?" It seemed like an intelligent thing to say at the time. They both stared at me like I was brain damaged. Then they both exploded with laughter. Yes folks, Pretzel Poem has put her hoof in it yet again. "Oh, that's rich!" cackled Greengrocer, like the witch she is. "Every time we get a sheriff, they either wind up in Big Oil's pocket or up there." Greengrocer pointed to a hill off in the distance. Several gravestones peppered the hill. A hideous looking vulture nested on the branch of a twisted branch of a dead tree, adding to the macabre imagery. Frankly, the whole thing made me sort of nauseous. "Are all those..." Clementine glumly nodded. "Each one was a sheriff that Big Oil couldn't buy so his henchmen..." She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. "Have ya'll heard of the Bloodhoof gang?" "Woody might have mentioned them in passing." "Tha' whole lot of them are either crooked lawponies or jus' plain ol' crooks that Big Oil got ta hirin'!" Greengrocer said, as she concluded her packing. "Where ya from, missy?" "Canterlot, why?" "Ya'll better get that ass of yer's back there then!" And with a cackle, the old mare hooked the wagon up to herself and sped off at an unimaginable speed for an elderly pony. "If I had money, my arse would be back at Canterlot." I mumbled to myself. A gentle, reassuring hoof touched my shoulder. Clementine gave me a gentle smile that calmed my frazzled (or in my current state, mangled) nerves. "Don't worry about it," said Clementine. "That old coot says a lot of things." We both looked at each other and, strangely enough started chuckling along with her. A few tears started to form in my eyes, by products of my earlier frustrations. "Thank you." I croaked. "If you need a place to stay, maybe me and my dad can put you up for a few days." "But I shouldn't impose. I mean you have your own problems and I..." "Please, I insist." Damn my soft heart and those beautiful eyes of hers. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. For the strangest reasons, the butterflies left my stomach and an all-enveloping calm filled me. There are many types of magic. Some that can move mountains, others that can pulverize an island but the magic of normalcy is the greatest of them all. "Very well," I said, giving in like the fool I was. "But I must pull my own weight." "Aren't you a teacher?" No use avoiding it now. "Well, I mean I'm pretty intelligent, but my two special talents are...sigh...pretzel making and poetry." I expect her to laugh at me. Like everypony else except my parents. My whole family on both my mother's and father's side are scholars, as are my brothers and sisters. And when your youngest (no matter how smart she is) gains the most confusing and contradictory cutie mark in all of Equestria, you can't help but be somewhat disappointed. But unlike so many others, Clementine didn't laugh at me. "You make pretzels?", she said. I nodded grimly. And suddenly she beamed with glee. "That's great." "I mean it's nothing to wr...WHA?!" "Daddy needs something else to serve at the Pussycat beside booze and pretzels sound like the perfect thing." I stood there in silence for who knows how long. My talent for making twisted salted bread snack is actually appreciated? Pretzel Poem, the pony who is most likely to run screaming from the room when the term "pretzel maker" was used is becoming what she hates the most. And would probably enjoy it. "Well, Miz Poem?", said Clementine with those big, pleading eyes of hers. "It would be a pleasure." said the fool that was I, mentally drooling over the fact I would be under the same roof as my beloved. "Great, I'm gonna try to talk daddy into letting you stay." And she was off like a bolt of lightning, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "I'll be under the same roof as Clementine." I gleefully said to myself. Just then the logical half of my brain (which I haven't been using lately since I stepped foot in this town) kicked in. You know her father might say no. "But there's a good chance he could say yes." Okay, even if you are allowed to stay, what makes you think that Clementine will love you. "I'll just use what I learned from my books to woo her." You mean those brain dead romance novels and those trashy bodice rippers. "Well...I mean...since you put it that way." Plus, what if she offended by the very thought of a same gender relationship. And what would the town say. These types of towns don't cotton well to "fillyfoolers". "Our love would weather any stor..." What happens if she already has a coltfriend. I came to a sudden realization. What if she did have a coltfriend. Not only would I look like a fool (a filly fool as it were) but I would become the town degenerate. Oh, hello Miss Pervert. Fine weather we're having today. Are you planning to spit on our wholesome values with your sexual deviancy? And Clementine would really despise me. "ARGH! What was I thinking?", I groaned out loud. "Um, excuse me?" "YAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I leaped twenty feet into the air, hitting my head on Greengrocer's sign. Turning around I could see the face of sheriff Gossamer. Oh, will he get a good tongue lashing from me and the knot on my head. "Can I...ahem...have a word with you?", said a blushing Gossamer. I put aside cursing out the flaxen maned boob and decided to hear him out. "Yes? Well, out with it, man. I haven't got all day." I said, still feeling cross at loosing a one-mare argument. "Are you a poet? I mean I should have asked because of your name. Plus..." He pointed at my cutie mark (aka the bane of my existence), a quill overlaid on a pretzel. I looked at him, somewhat puzzled. Of course, a mare as well read as myself would have at least a few poetry books, but as for writing the things, my experience is between zilch and nada. "I've been known to dabble.", I replied, lying my ass off. An obnoxious, ear to ear grin formed across Gossamer's face. "Excellent!", he beamed. "I need you to help me write a love poem." "Gossamer, you scamp.", I proceeded to gently nudge him in the ribs. "So, who's the lucky mare?" "Oh, she doesn't know I love her yet." Figures. "And you want me to help you win her heart, is that it?" "Yep." "And who is this lucky gal?" "Clementine." At that instant, my entire world collapsed in on it's self. Gossamer is my rival for Clementine?! I wanted to find a way out. No. I'd just tell him no. "I'd be delighted." Dumbass! I just mentally facehooved at myself. "Great. I'll see you tonight at the jail.' Again, I was alone with my thoughts. I was helping my romantic rival steal the mare of my dreams. Failure. That word screamed out at me. Only one thought crossed my mind at that moment. You blew it, Pretzel. You blew it. Author's Note If you're wondering, I had to tone down Clementine's accent because she would sound too similar to Greengrocer. Of Pretzels and PoemsChapter 3: Of Pretzels and Poems Ah! Such is my (increasingly) pathetic life. Charged with helping my romantic rival woo my beloved (who doesn't even know my romantic intentions towards her). Through the now darkened streets, illuminated only by lamp light I made my way to the sheriff's office. Gossamer (the big ham) and his deputy (and foul smelling sidekick) Woody greeted me at the door. "Come in. Come in." said Gossamer as he yanked me inside and checked to see if the coast was clear (all this secrecy for a love poem?!). A life time of irritation towards this fool was building up within me, despite knowing Gossamer for a total of two days (two and half tops). Inside the jail cell was a rather obese pony sleeping away in a drunken stupor. "Um..." I pointed at the snoozing prisoner. "Oh, that's just Teetotaler. Shotglass kicked him out of the bar again." Gossamer stated in a matter of fact voice that implied this was a regular thing. Teetotaler (having the most hypocritical name ever) awoken, very much like a fairy tale princess. Except being male, drunk, grossly overweight, and being completely disgusting. "Ah, geez. I'sh gotta getsh home. The missus will kill me." Yes, we don't want to keep Pale Horse in business, now would we. "You're such a cut up, Teetotaler." chuckled Gossamer. Apparently, alcoholism is totally hilarious and nopony told me about it. Woody released Teetotaler from the cell. Teetotaler stumbled from left to right, garnering a few childish giggles from Gossamer and Woody. He stopped short at the door and stared at me. "Did anypony tell you that you look cute?" Teetotaler then proceeded to vomit all over the floor and my hooves before his tottered out through the streets, drunkenly singing as loud as he can. I immediately formed a "happy place" in my mind (Why no, this isn't vomit, its a gentle blast of refreshing spring water), to keep me from screaming my head off. "Towel, Miz Poem." said Woody, offering me a towel (an extremely filthy towel, at that). As I wiped the vomit from my hooves, Gossamer snapped in his "let's get to work" mode. "Now, Miss Poem..." "Call me Pretzel." I said. I would prefer that he'd call a carriage to get me away from her. "Since, you're a lady..." Wow, I must have been living a lie for the past twenty-two years. "How would I go about writing a love poem for my love." "You don't have one written, do you?" "Actually, I do." Gossamer then whipped out a ratty looking piece of paper loaded with scribbling and incoherent writing. He then started to clear his throat. Sweet Celestia! He's going to read it! "Ahem." My dearest Clementine. I want you to be mine. As sure as the sun and the moon. You make me croon. Until noon. He had that moronic grin on his face as I looked at him, dumbfounded. This wasn't a poem, it was a crime against literature. No, a WAR CRIME against literature! It was sewage wrapped up in iambic pentameter and framed in stupidity and lousy rhyming. "Well?" He said, smiling like an idiot. "It's...um...well...what do you think Woody?" I turned towards Woody, hoping he would get me out of this mess. "Ya don't convey yer true emotions well enough, yer use of rhyming is extremely forced, and ya style is too derivative of Early Pre-Celestian styles." And then Woody spat into the spitoon. Like they said, inside of every grungy looking deputy, there is a snobby literature critic trying to get out. "He's right.", I said. Gossamer began to sulk in the corner, sucking on his hoof like a petulant child. I went over to his desk and silently took out a quill and a clean sheet of paper. Woody and Gossamer, who decided to stop acting like a spoiled foal started to look on. I put quill to paper and started to write. Gossamer and Woody looked on in silent awe as I went to work. My imagination went wild with images of me giving Clementine the love poem, watching her eyes tear up. She would take my hoof and we would watch the sunset together. And then we would kiss tenderly into the night. Damn! I'm the most foolish pony ever. Foolish in thinking I could shape the minds of young foals, foolish in thinking I could escape the shadow of my family, and foolish in thinking Clementine would love me. Fool all around. That's me in a nutshell. Around two, I finished my magnum opus. Pouring my feeling onto the paper and having them become one with the ink. Gossamer looked over my work like a second grade teacher looking over math homework. "This is pretty good." Gossamer said, giving his muted opinion. PRETTY GOOD?! I poured my heart and soul into that piece of paper so you can steal the love of my life away from me, and all you can say is PRETTY GOOD?! I wanted to stab him to death with my quill right there and then. No jury would convict me. "Now all I have to do is deliver it." Sheriff Gossamer got as far as the door before he froze up. His pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks, his breathing became ragged, and he started to sweat profusely. This is what we call in the "love game" as the "Seven Yard Stare". Woody just rolled his eyes. "It's happenin' again." said Woody, shaking his head in pity. "I-I-I-I-I CAN'T DO THIS!" And as fast as the wind, Gossamer bolted under the desk. Something tells me that this has happened before. "Come on out, you big baby!" I grunted, as I tried to drag him out by his tail. Unlike his name, Gossamer was immovable as a brick outhouse. I just threw up my hooves and started to leave. "But how would I give Clem the poem?" whimpered Gossamer. I wanted to leave this fool like the whiny mess that he was. But my conscience (Damn you, conscience!) got the better of me. "I have a busy day tomorrow and I need my sleep. I'll think of something, so good night for now!" Leaving behind a confused Gossamer and an indifferent Woody, I made my way to the Prancing Pussycat. I silently prayed that Mr. Shotglass will look into the kindness of his heart and let me stay. Murmurings were heard from the Pussycat as I neared the door. The more masculine voice had gotten louder as I approached. "Absolutely not! We ain't runnin' a flophouse!", Shotglass said, at near shouting level. "This pony might be a lunatic." "Be reasonable, daddy!", pouted Clementine, cutely. "She want to make an honest day's pay. So she won't be livin' here for nothin'." "What can that fusspot do? 'sides complainin'!" "I, my dear sir, am a maker of salty breaded snacks." I said, making my grand entrance. Shotglass still gave me a skeptical look. "What?", he said coldly. "I'm a pretzel maker, okay! It's in my name, for Celestia's sake." "Well, ya'lls a mare." No duh! "An' since yer a mare, ya'll won't have any impure intentions towards my Clem." Actually I do. But I'll stay quiet for now. "An' you say that ya'll willin' ta work?" "Indubitably, my good stallion." "Very well. Ya gots yaself a place ta stay. Ah expects ya up bright an' early ta set up th' Pussycat." We shook hooves as an informal contract as Clementine cheered on. In the last two days I, gained a job, met a grungy deputy and the brain dead fop they call a sheriff, met the second worst pony, fell in love instantly, lost my job to the worst pony, found out the town is under the constant threat of criminals, and agreed to help said brain dead fop steal the mare of my dreams. All in all, this has been a lifetime of taxing experiences balled up into two short days. "I'll show you to your room." The ever pleasant Clementine said. She lead me to a small room with a rather uncomfortable looking cot and several crates blocking the window. An apologetic look formed on Clementine's face. "I'm sorry," She said. "This is the only empty room in the Pussycat." "Oh, pish-posh." I said, brushing of her concern like dandruff. "A room is a room no matter how small..." Just then I heard several small squeaks. "...or rodent filled." "Call if ya'll need anything." And I was alone again with my thoughts. That idiot will be here tomorrow night for the express concern of getting Clementine to fall in love with him. I nodded off as soon as my head hit the pillow. My thoughts slowly melted into dreams. I was in a church, at the far, far end of the aisle. The whole thing stretched out for miles and miles with the pews filled to the brim with ponies. At the end of the whole thing was a preacher pony flanked by Gossamer and Clementine, dressed in their wedding attire. From what I could hear, the preacher already started the wedding. "...And if anypony has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." "NO!", I screamed out, calling attention to myself. "I LOVE YOU, CLEMENTINE!" A horrified look crossed Clementine's face as the whole church exploded in anger. "Fillyfooler!", screeched one pony. "Degenerate!", shouted another. Persimmon Pepper (how did she get into the wedding I shall never know) started giving "I told you so"s to the enraged crowd. "I knew she was a fillyfooler, she was like that in school." squealed the loud mouth slattern. All of the sudden, Princess Celestia emerged from the crowd, stuffing her face with cake (she should at least have the decency to wait until the reception), just as angry as the crowd. "Pretzel Poem!", she roared. "I hereby banish you to the moon." She levitated me far up into the air and launched me through space. It was a shame I overshot the moon and kept going. "SOMEPONY SAVE ME!" But nopony heard my cries. I then heard a voice in the void call to me. "Pretzy...Pretzy...WAKE UP, FOUR EYES!" I took a half gainer out of the bed, finally awoken from my nightmare. Sunlight poured through the window as the birds sang their little morning songs, and looking down at me was Persimmon Pepper, with a smirk on her detestable little face. "Good morning, Pretzy.", she sneered. I wanted to go back to sleep and take my chances with the pitiless void than see HER face. "I am going to ask you two questions.", I threatened. "If I don't like the answer to either of them, I will toss you out of the window." "Very well." she said, rolling her eyes. Ignoring her rudeness, I started my "third degree". "One, how did you get in?" "The window. Ponies shouldn't keep ladders laying around were other ponies could take them, you know." I could have and should have throttled her right then and there. That annoying smirk on her face was making it even more tempting. "Two," I growled. "Why did you come up here?" "The sheriff." "What about him." Percy shoved an accusing hoof in my face. "Don't play dumb, Pretzy. I seen you talking to that handsome hunk of stallion last night." she said trying not to yell. I began to put two and two together. Laughter started to build up in my chest. "So, you think me and Gossamer..." "You're on a first name basis?!", Percy slumped to her knees and started to whine. "It's not fair! I have the looks, smarts, and most definitely, sex appeal! And you...well...you're you!" "Thanks for the backhanded insult, but I am not nor will I ever be in love with Gossamer. Now excuse me, but I have to set up the bar." "You mean you're not in love with him?" "Yes." Persimmon's eyes lit up. "Oh happy, happy day.", she sang. It was a wonder she didn't wake up the whole neighborhood. "He's in love with the bartender's daughter." I said, coolly. Percy's switch went from obnoxious glee to obnoxious overwhelming sadness. "Noooooo!", she howled, like the howler monkey she was. "It's not fair!" "Tough toenails, Percy!" Oh, how I do like rubbing it in. "Life's not fair. Remember how my research paper got passed over for yours." "Still harping on about that, Pretzy?" "Why, yes. Yes I am." "Humph. Well, I shall take my leave." And with that Persimmon Pepper stormed out of my room and headed out the door...after tripping down the stairs and forgetting the door was still locked. "Curse you, door!" she howled. I was surprised that she didn't wake Clementine and Shotglass from their slumber. Being the good sport that I was (and stifling my laughter at her attempts at opening the locked door), I decided to "unleash the beast", as it were. As an infuriated Percy stormed out of the Prancing Pussycat, I surveyed the work I needed to do. First order of business, set up the bar. I buzzed around the Pussycat like a bee. The floor was mopped AND waxed. Chairs set up neatly (until the inevitable bar brawl). Tables and the counter dusted. Everything was in place and nothing was stolen. Second order of business, make the pretzels. Dough was made, kneaded, twisted into their recognizable form, and placed into the over. After a while, I removed the reasons for part of my namesake from the oven, waited for them to cool, salted them, and put them in a bowl on the counter. Shotglass and Clementine emerged from upstairs. The shocked looks on their faces said all. "Th' Pussycat.", an astonished Shotglass said. "I-it's clean! It ain't been this clean in ages!" "Um...Did I do a good job?" I said, trying to read Shotglass's expression. "Only mama did as good of a job cleanin' up the 'Cat." Clementine said, in wide eyed amazement. At that moment, Shotglass started to laugh. "And I thought you Canterlot ponies couldn't handle hard work. Color me shocked.", Shotglass gave me an affectionate nudge on the shoulder. "C'mon ladies. Time ta open th' Pussycat!" The double doors of the Pussycat swang open and the usual cabal of drunks, fighters, gamblers, and drunk fighting gamblers filed in. Sans the small scuffle (only one chair was broken over a pony's head), everything was peaceful...until three-thirty that afternoon. I was manning the counter after placing my third batch of pretzels into the oven. Clementine was making sure the pretzels didn't burn and Shotglass was delivering today's profits to the bank leaving me (and the drunks) alone. "Barkeep! A glass of yer finest cactus juice." called a rather boisterous voice. I spun around and seen a rather overweight (what's with this town and obesity anyway) pony. He was clad in a hat and jacket of pure white seersucker with a large cigar clasped in his mouth. Just looking at him I could tell that voice belonged to that fat stallion. "Aw, shucks. Ah'd thought ya was Clementine.", he sneered. "By th' way, where is our beloved patron of this fine establishment." "Mister Shotglass is out right now and Clementine is in the kitchen. Who might you be?" Looking at him, just looking at this fat, bloated excuse for a stallion I knew I hated him the second I laid eyes on him. He smirked at me as he proceeded to put the cigar out on the counter (did I mention how much I hated him). I was about to yell at him when I noticed the bar was silent. Not one single solitary peep. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I shoulda introduced my self. Th' name's Big Oil." So this is the legendary Big Oil. I knew that any of the ponies here could send this bloated gasbag on a one way trip to Valhalla without blinking. But nopony moved. They were actually frightened of him for reasons I couldn't imagine. He had no bodyguards and he looked like him couldn't handle himself in a fight. Clementine emerged from the kitchen, with a tray of pretzels hovering over her head. "This batch is done...", Clementine dropped the tray as soon as she caught sight of Big Oil. "YOU!" He gave Clementine this lusty look as he lit up another cigar. "Now, now Clem. That's no way to meet an old buddy of yer pappy." said Big Oil. "Ya'll ain't no buddy of daddy's!", Clementine was seething with an anger I haven't seen in a pony. "Now git, before I call the sheriff!" Big Oil just chuckled. "Oh, you mean good ol' Gossamer. He come around eventually or he'll...well let's just say Pale Horse is gonna be might pleased with the results." Clementine was close to tears as Big Oil's chuckling turned to full blown laughter. I've decided I had enough of him. Picking up the fallen pretzel tray, I left from behind the counter. "Excuse me, sir.", I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "I have to ask you to leave." "Or what?" "Or this." WHAM! Big Oil's head jerked back as struck him in the face with the metal tray. Clementine and the bar patrons looked on in abject horror, as if I killed him. The smiling and guffawing left Big Oil's face leaving only extreme fury. "Big mistake, missy. BOYS! We got us a filly who doesn't know her place." Several demonic looking ponies emerged from the shadows. The mere presence of these stallions caused full grown ponies to wet themselves. Big Oil soon returned to his smug, overconfident self. "Where ya'll from, missy." sneered Big Oil. My knees suddenly turned to jelly as the frightening looking stallions advanced on me. "C-canterlot." I stammered. "Well, Miss Canterlot. Allow me to introduce ya'll to the Bloodhooves. It's a shame ya'll time in town was short. I'll send your family a sympathy basket." The color left my cheeks as the Bloodhooves leveled several weapons at me, each one making an ominous clicking sound. "Bye bye, Miz Canterlot." said one of the Bloodhooves, as he was about to fire. Crouching Gossamer, Hidden PretzelCrouching Gossamer, Hidden Pretzel My life flashed before my eyes. A shame it wasn't much of a life. The outlaws advanced on me, bloodlust in their eyes. All the while, the bar patrons (the fat cowards) pretended there was nothing going on. Yes, my hash was about be settled. I cooked my pretzel and was about to cash in my chips. My synonyms for death were about to dry out when Sheriff Gossamer and Woody sauntered in. Now I know I'm going to die, I grimly thought. The Bloodhooves and Big Oil turned their attention to Gossamer. "What's all this then." He had the nerve to ask. "Big Oil was makin' advances towards me, sheriff!" Clementine said, her normally cool demeanor becoming frayed. "Now, now sheriff." said Big Oil, with all the sincerity of an insurance salespony. "Is it against the law to admire such equine beauty, such as the lovely Clementine here." Gossamer had to think on that one for a minute. Maybe Big Oil should have used smaller words. "No, I guess not." Gossamer conceded. "And my boys here, well they were just protectin' me from the wrath of this here maniac." "Now, hold on there!" I yelled, becoming fed up with this travesty of justice. The largest member of the Bloodhooves took a step towards Gossamer. "Yeah, sheriff. We weren't doing anything wrong. Just lookin' out for the boss." said the stallion. This stallion kind of frightened me. He was huge (well huge in a relative sense, not that he was a fifty foot giant) and muscular with a dark reddish brown coat. On his muzzle grew an impressive handlebar mustache as black as his mane. All in all, this pony was what I expected a Bloodhoof to look like, a pony who could eat a whole wagon in one bite. I was surprised Gossamer didn't hightail it and ran but, to his credit, faced down the monster. "I heard about you through the grapevine," said Gossamer, not letting any type of fear into his voice. "RedRum Hattrick." RedRum Hattrick just smirked. "I think my reputation proceeds me, eh sheriff." "I heard you killed six lawponies." "Now sheriff, that heresay.", said Big Oil. "Those ponies probably just slipped in the shower." How come I didn't believe him. To their credit, the patrons, Gossamer, and even Woody didn't fall for it. Hattrick lit up a cigar and blew smoke in Gossamer face. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Of course, we could handle this the manly way, sheriff." "Bring it, RedRum!" "It already been brought, sheriff!" "A shame you forgot the receipt!" "Ah'm plannin' on getting store credit!" "Oh, justice doesn't give out store credit!" "Ya'll sure?" All right, time to nip this foolishness in the bud. I stood between the two stallions, since I had an IQ greater than six. RedRum and Gossamer, in all of their testosterone fueled stupidity, were still trying to face each other down. "Gentlestallions, please behave yourself, we have ladies present." I said, feeling a little proud of myself for defusing a problem without violence. "Ya'll mean one lady and one brute." Big Oil sneered. Thanks for harshing my mellow, fatass! Red Rum and Gossamer separated and "went back to their corners", as it was. "Sheriff, ya'll still have ta do something on the pony that accosted me." Gossamer frowned and shook his head. "In the name of the town of Sweetwater, I, Sheriff Gossamer, place you under arrest." The drunken rabble breathed a sigh of relief (YOU FOUL SMELLING COWARDS!) and went back to their drinking. Woody, in a show of competence, was the one to "collar" me. He placed the chain and collar around my neck as Gossamer read me my rights. I (strangely enough) handled everything quite well...because I was in shock. "I'm a criminal. I'm a criminal. I'm a criminal..." I repeated over and over in a daze. Clementine ran over to Gossamer and Woody as they escorted me out of the Pussycat. "Please Sheriff Gossamer," pleaded Clementine (bless her). "She ain't done nothin' wrong 'cept hit that skunk who was tryin' to molest me." Nerves started to creep in on Gossamer as he started to sweat profusely. "I-i'm sorry...Clem.", he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's my duty." "Ya'll alike!", snorted Clementine. "You and Big Oil!" And with that, she bolted up the stairs and locked the door to her room. Hurt was written all over Gossamer's face as hung his head and led me away. All the while, Big Oil's laughter echoed in my ears. "That's what ya'll get, missy! Bwahahahahahaha!" It's official. Big Oil is worst pony! We arrived at the jail house as the sun was going down in the east. "Um...", I said, dreading jail time. "Will I have to share a cell with Teetotaler?" "Nope.", said Woody, with that dumb smile on his face. "Ya'll sharin' it with her." "Her?" In the cell sat a pony that certainly didn't fit it with the usual degenerates and drunks that graced these halls. The mare was a quite well dressed unicorn, despite giving an air of sleeze. She just sat there, flicking her well groomed mane. "Well, sheriff.", she spoke. "Got me a cellmate?" "In ya'll go, Miz Poem." said Woody as he filed me into the cell. I took a good long look at my cellmate. She had a silky white coat that rivaled even Clementine's. Her magenta (or some shade of red, perhaps mauve) was well curled. "So I bet ya'll pissed off Big Oil sumthin' fierce, huh Hon." my unicorn cellmate sneered. "Listen, you...you..." "Easy, hon. I'm on your side. Big Oil got me tossed in here too." "He has, miss...er...miss..." "Bellpepper. Bellpepper Blossom." "What exactly did you do to Big Oil to get tossed in here?" I asked. "Big Oil's "boys" were tryin' to mess with my "girls"." "Oh, that too bad. I hate it when bullies push around hard working..." It suddenly dawn on me. Yes, even I can have my stupid moments. "So I take it you're a..." "That's right, sugarcube. I run Bellpepper's Bordello. THE finest whorehouse in all of Equestria." Great! I'm locked in here with a pimp! "Sooo, you're a..." I couldn't even finish my sentence, lest I die of embarrassment. "A madam. That's right, sugar. Betcha want to know about the Bloodhooves." Not only she's a pimp, but she's the exposition pimp? It's official. I hate this town! "Well, hon. There are five Bloodhooves." No! Really?! "Ya'll met RedRum Hattrick. He was a former sheriff and as crooked as they come." "Can I ask you just one question before you continue, Bellpepper?" , I asked. "Shoot!", she said, which is ironic considering my question. "What are those weapons the Bloodhooves used?" "They're called firearms, hon.", said Bellpepper. "They get them from the Griffin Empire." "Well, I guess that kind of makes sense, with the griffins having digits and all." "Also, have you noticed that most of the Bloodhooves are unicorns." The thought kicked me in the head like a donkey. Come to think of it, I was too busy being shocked and awed to notice Redrum's horn. Unicorns just don't get that hefty. "Like I was going to say, sugarcube.", Bellpepper said, continuing her story. "There are five Bloodhooves. You all ready met the first." "Redrum.", I muttered. How can he NOT leave an impression. Unless you're blind in one eye and the other one's glass. "Next, is his brother, Slim. A little skinny feller." I didn't see him due to the walking solar eclipse that is his brother. "The third is Tobasco. The meanest pony this side of the west. He gets worse when he's mad." If he's a Bloodhoof, won't that already make him ONE of the meanest ponies. Really, the others don't sound like Filly Scouts to begin with. "Fourth is Crazy Eyes. Well, because he has crazy eyes. He's also a crack shot." Wouldn't being called Crazy Eyes make you a bad shooter. I mean the name "Crazy Eyes" doesn't scream 20/20 vision. "And the last is Black Magic. He studied magic all over Equestria." "Well, that doesn't sound like a bad..." "He killed all his teachers. Brutally." Yes. Sounds like an apple giving, straight A student there. "Why hasn't they been arrested yet?", I said, dreading the eventual answer. "'Cause Sugar, the law is either in Big Oil's pocket or...well you seen Gossamer." Bellpepper shook her head grimly. I wanted to stick up for Gossamer, I really did. But the only thing good about him is he's honest. Woody walked towards the cell. "You ladies are free to go.", said Woody, with that idiotic toothy grin of his. Bellpepper sashayed out of the cell, swinging her hips in a somewhat sexual manner. "So, the usual paid my bail?", she said. "Yep, they sure did." "Well, I gotta open up the doors for tonight. Later, honey." "Wait a minute.", said Gossamer, coming up from behind his desk. "Your bail has been paid but I still have to give you the "You Been Naughty" speech." And for the next twenty minutes (twenty long agonizing minutes) Gossamer given a speech on how a mare should conduct herself. I actually wanted the Bloodhooves to rush in and gun us all down in order for him to stop. When he finished, Bellpepper just rolled her eyes and left. Goodbye, Exposition Pimp, till we meet again. "Um...did anyone pay my...", I said, not wanting to be in here another second. "Yes, Mister Shotglass did.", Gossamer said. "But first..." "Not the speech!", I groaned like a petulant teenager. Instead, Gossamer threw himself at my hooves, looking up at me with pleading eyes. Oh, I know I wasn't going to like this. "Pleeeeease, help me, Miss Poem!", whined Gossamer. "I love Clementine and...I...I..." The fool started palpitating like he was having a baby. "Did you give her the love poem you...er...I wrote?" That stupid pleading look on his face said it all. Mentally, all I did was smirk. I mean, one less romantic rival for me and Clementine wouldn't touch Big Oil with a ten and a half foot pole. But my conscience (the little winged bastard) got the better of me again. I did the only thing I could do at a time like this. SLAP! "Get it together, you lily livered, flower sniffing pansy!", I yelled in the most authoritative voice I could muster. "Are you a stallion or a mouse?!" "Got any cheese.", sniveled Gossamer. SLAP! "Meet me outside the Prancing Pussycat in twenty minutes! And you'd better show up." The twenty minutes flew by (since there was no moralistic drivel involved) and Woody showed up with a shaking, whimpering Gossamer. I rolled my eyes, shoved Woody into a water barrel (so I wouldn't have to smell him) and took my place behind a nearby bush, grabbing Gossamer by his vest. "Listen, you little pissant!", I growled through my teeth. "You are going to repeat everything I say! Got it!" A wide eyed Gossamer nodded. He tossed a few pebbles at Clementine's window, each one making a plinking sound. PLINK! PLINK! PLINK! On the third plink, Clementine threw open her window and spying only Gossamer (due to Woody being in the barrel and I being in the bush, out of earshot). "What are you doin' 'round here this time of night, Sheriff?", asked a sleepy Clementine. She looked even more alluring in her nightgown. I could see why Gossamer and that pervert, Big Oil were so smitten. "I...er...ee...um..." "I came to see you, my dearest Clementine.", I whispered from behind the bushes. Gossamer's knees stopped knocking for at least two seconds, a record for him. "I-i you to see...I came to see you, my dearest Clementine!" bellowed Gossamer, his voice cracking while doing so. "Me?" "Er..." "I always loved you from afar, my angel of the west." "I-i always loved you from afar, my a-angel of the west!" "I have been trying to voice my feelings for a long time." "I-I-i have been trying to voice my feelings for a long time." Woody popped out of the barrel and with a smirk pulled out a guitar (where he hid it I had no idea). He then started to play and to my surprise, he was pretty good. I guess he can do more than take up space and stink. "My gentle cactus flower, my honeybee, my goddess." "M-my gentle cactus flower, my honeybee, my goddess." Clementine started to swoon a little. At that moment I knew I lost. I held back tears as I fed Gossamer his lines. "The moonlight stands as testament to your beauty." "The moonlight stands as testament to your beauty." "Oh, Sheriff...I...I mean this is all so sudden." Gossamer then started to get bold and ad lib. "Yes, my love. We are two halves of a broken cookie, tasting good either separate or apart." "Er..." I wanted to run from behind the bush and slap him again but I decided to stay put...for now. "So come to me, my little half cookie and we can be whole!" "Oh, Sheriff..." "Please call me Gossamer." The big ham's teeth glinted in the moonlight. Yes, the greatest lovers in history have nothing to fear from Gossamer, the pastry chef of love. Woody was actually overcome with tears while I just groaned. Really, at least try to stay on script! Gossamer climbed up a ladder that was on the side of the Pussycat to Clementine's window. "Well, what say you, my little cookie?" "Why don't you say some more sweet nothings in my ear...Gossamer.", said Clementine in the sexiest voice I ever heard. Gossamer's brain (as such as it is) finally kicked in. How could he say sweet nothings without his "drama coach". That's what he gets from going off script. As I was enjoying watching Gossamer squirm, I could feel hot air down my back. I did not like where this was going. "That's not you, is it Woody?" Yes, I knew it wasn't him but fear makes ponies stupid, alright. Woody pointed a shaking hoof at a large figure behind. "C-C-C-C..." "Don't tell me." "COYOTE!" "I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL ME!" "RUN AWAY!" Me and Woody ran with the coyote in hot pursuit. Gossamer then took the chance and kissed Clementine to distract her from us being mauled. We ran all through the desert, with the coyote on our heels. Suddenly, we couldn't see the coyote anymore. "What a stroke of luck! He's gone!" "Um, Miz Poem." "What Woody?" Woody just pointed to the ground that we weren't on anymore. At that moment, gravity decided to kick in. Me and Woody fell straight into the gorge below but luckily something broke our fall, a cactus grove...and the coyote. We were back at square one (sans being full of cactus needles). Throughout the night, we ran from our relentless pursuer. "DOES HE EVER GIVE UP?!", I screamed to the unforgiving universe. "Watch out for that..." I slammed straight into a cactus. There were a lot of "I wishes" that night. Like, I wish I hadn't hit that cactus or I wish there wasn't a bee hive on that cactus and I wish said bee hive didn't fall on my head. Of course, it wasn't meant to be. Now, me, Woody, and the coyote were on the run from a swarm of EXTREMELY angry bees! "Not our night, eh Miz Poem!", said Woody. "Woody.", I said in a calmly psychotic tone of voice. "Yes, ma'am?" "SHUT UP!" We arrived back at town at sunrise, full of cactus needles and bee stings. Our coyote "friend" had gotten tired an hour ago and left (and they say coyotes are stupid). Gossamer was standing in front of the jailhouse, happy as a lark. "Oh, happy, happy, happy day!", he beamed. "Guess what happened, Miss Poem?" "What.", I said, flatly. "Clementine wants to go out with me! Isn't that great! And I was scared for nothing!" All Gossamer got from me was a kick in the face as I stormed back to the Pussycat, hungry, tired, depressed, and in pain. I was soon met by a panicing Shotglass. "PRETZEL!", he screamed in hysterics. "GET TH' SHERIFF!!" "Wha' happened?", I said, wearily. "Th' Bloodhooves! Th' Bloodhooves got my Clem!" Shotglass thrust a badly scrawled note into my face. Dear Sheriff If'n ya'll wants ta see Clementine again. Come to Deadpony Gulch. We be awaitin' Redrum Bad spelling aside I knew this note meant trouble. It got to be a trap. Unfortunately, I made what will be forever known as Mistake #1. "Where's Deadpony Gulch?", I said. "To th' east. Why?" I suddenly sped off in that direction. "Tell Gossamer to meet me there! I'm going to help Clementine!" And with that the biggest fool in Equestria, me, went towards certain doom. Author's Note Doesn't that chase scene seem familiar somehow? Naw!
The Mild, Mild West.The Courtship of Clementine by the Fillyfooler, Pretzel Poem by Robo00 Chapter 1: The Mild, Mild West The (rather long) train ride from Canterlot to Sweetwater has been rather uneventful. It has given me a chance to reread some of my favorite novels. The Tragedy of Elm Tree and Gold Leaf, Love in the marshes, The Young Mare's guide to Romance. Despite my love of (trashy, I'd admit) romance novels, I myself has never fallen in love or had the need to. Yes, just me and my books. "SWEETWATER! NEXT STOP, SWEETWATER!" yelled the rather loud unicorn porter. I shook myself from my reverie, adjusted my eyeglasses, and proceeded to gather my luggage (no easy feat for an Earth Pony). A warm breeze and the stench of pig manure greeted me as I stepped of the train. "Lo, ponies of Sweetwater! I, Pretzel Poem bring you knowledge, the arts,...SOAP!" The townsponies just went about their daily routine, ignoring the screaming (but intelligent) loony before them. I decided to announce myself again. "It's me the new teacher. You know, knowledge, arts, soap." No answer. "I'M THE NEW SCHOOLMARM, YOU GAP-TOOTHED, FOUL SMELLING HICKS!" "Yeah, we heard ya th' first time." called out a voice behind me. I spun around and seen the most mangiest being that ever held to moniker of "pony". An Earth Pony with a rust colored coat and the dirtiest, dirty blonde mane and tail I'd ever did see, and his teeth. Dear Celestia, his teeth. They were all wooden and they were still rotten. His fashion sense almost out did his teeth with a moth eaten hat and vest. "Um, hello...my dear...Er..." "Th' folks 'round here call me Woody.", and with that "Woody" spat some unidentified substance into a spittoon. I stared at this pony for a good thirty seconds with my emotions wavering between disgust and absolute disgust. "So, whatja want?" "My good...stallion. I am Pretzel Poem and I'm here to apply for the job of school teacher." He eyed me with some suspicion. "Yer th' new...PTEW...schoolmarm? I'd better bring you to the sheriff." I walked downwind of him as he took me to the sheriff. "So, Woody was it," I said, trying to hold my breath, "Are you the deputy?" "Yep! I'm on my sixth sheriff." "Sixth?" Here comes that sinking feeling. I heard the lives of lawman were fleeting in these western towns but I never believed them to be true. "Th' Bloodhoof Gang. The most violent outlaws this side of th' west." We stood in front of the sheriff's office. My scruffy, vile smelling companion proceeded to call the sheriff. "HEY SHERIFF GOSSAMER! TH' NEW SCHOOLMARM IS HERE!" And he had the nerve to complain about my entrance. The double doors swung open and out stepped Sheriff Gossamer, the biggest fop ever to wear a badge. Seeing him stand next to Woody and you could see they were different as night and day. Thankfully, the sheriff HAS heard of good hygiene with his neatly coiffed golden blond mane and dazzling white coat. Yes, Sheriff Gossamer looked more like a Canterlot noble than a rough and tumble lawman. "So, you're the new schoolmare." The unicorn gave me the visual once over. "Welcome to Sweetwater, Miss..." "Pretzel Poem." The (somewhat annoying) sheriff tip his hat to me. Well, chivalry sure isn't dead around him. But something about him grated on me. Was it his foppish attitude or the somewhat condescending look he gave me. "I never seen an Earth Pony teacher before." "Well, I never seen an unicorn sheriff before." I countered, wanting to put this idiot in his place. "Touché." said the smarmy bastard as he shook my hoof. "Let me show you around." Oh, will the Great and Powerful Gossamer take poor little me under his wing. My bile for this pony was overflowing to capacity. So we went on our little tour through town with our first stop being the...ugh...undertaker. The outside of the funeral parlor was decorated in Early Demonic with a large bull's skull above the. I didn't even want to think how he got it as we stepped inside. "Oh, Mr Pale Horse! I want to introduce you to the schoolmare." Out from the back room, Pale Horse emerged and I never seen a more frightening individual. Like Gossamer, Pale Horse was a unicorn with a white coat and that's where the similarities end. His cheeks were sunken in, like a skeleton's with a black jacket draped over his tall and gaunt frame. A similarly colored top hat rested above his horn But that wasn't the most scary thing about him, it was his constant smiling that chilled my blood. He walked towards us with a tape measure hovering near his head. "So...ehehheheh...you are the new giver of knowledge to the empty vessels of the town, am I right...heh heh heh." He then proceeded to measure an oblivious Gossamer. "In good health, sheriff? No serious illnesses or gravely infected wounds?" Gossamer just threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, Pale Horse! You crack me up!" I took the time to look around the room. Row after row of empty coffins were before me. Well, mostly empty. In the corner, four legs belonging to a late pony in the onset of rigor mortis stuck out of a large coffin. "Back to you, madam. Do you have a name?" "I'm Pretzel Poem and I came from Canterlot." "Hmmm. I see. Canterlot. Fascinating." "Oh , yes. See, I came a somewhat large family and...ARE YOU MEASURING ME FOR A COFFIN?!" "You can never be too careful, Madam. You can go anytime. The good always die young. Heh heh heh." The color left me until I was almost as pale as my two "companions". I wanted to run screaming and catch the next train back to Canterlot, away from this madhouse they called a town. "You look a little peaked, Miss Poem. Why don't we stop at the saloon for refreshments." said Gossamer, with that idiotic grin still plastered on his face. We left out of the double doors with Pale Horse calling back to us. "Come again. Heh heh heh heh heh." Now I officially want to vomit. I only met three ponies in this forsaken hellhole they called a town and already I loathed this place. Woody bolted ahead of us at breakneck speed towards the saloon. "Figures, he's an alcoholic." I muttered to myself. "And we're here. Behold the Prancing Pussycat Saloon!" It was a pleasant enough establishment. Not particularly clean but not particularly filthy either. The clientele on the other hand... "Y'all occupyin' the space perpendicular to me!" "I can be perpendicular all I want." "Dems fightin' words!" And with that the two stallion discussed things in an intelligent and nonviolent manner. But instead they proceeded to beat the hell out of each other with chairs. My eyes rolled into the back of my head so hard, I became intimate with my own brain. Of course, all this testosterone flavored ballet went unnoticed by Woody, who was already on his fifth glass of...whatever. The portly unicorn bartender just shook his head as me and Gossamer "bellied up to the bar" as it were. "Greetin' sheriff. What can I do you for." "I would like some sparkling spring water." Of course, all the roughest, toughest cowpokes drank sparkling spring water. I just facehoofed and spared myself the aneurysm. "And the young lady would like a..." "An apple cider. Cold and in a clean glass." "CLEM! Come serve these two! I gotta git to th' bank before they close!" yelled the bartender into the backroom. "So Shotglass." said Gossamer, with an even smarmier grin than usual. "How is the delightful Clementine?" "Doin' as expected, sheriff. She's still th' lil' firecracker. And this is..." "My name is Pretzel Poem, my dear sir." "Y'all sound like one of them uppity Canterlot Ponies." "Well, actually I'm from..." "Save it. See ya later, son...I mean sheriff." Shotglass smirked at Gossamer as he left, he mood lighter ever since he seen Gossamer. Well, at least he has one pony in his fan club. Gossamer soon started primping and preening. Does he always carry a mirror with him? "I got to look my best when Clem gets here." he said as he applied a generous amount of breath spray to his throat. All I could do is roll my eyes (again). Love was always, to me at least, a silly emotion. Yes, despite my somewhat hypocritical love of romance novels, I am what they called a cold fish. I never dated in high school or had any type of meaningful crush. Life has a way of making one eat their words. "Hey! Stop that fightin', over there." Every stallion in the bar was transfixed on the counter. The raucous bar fight had ended as quickly as it began as they turned toward the counter. "Ah, Clem. So glad to see you." I turned my head toward the subject of Gossamer's little quip. My jaw dropped like all the other stallions. Behind the counter, before my very eyes, stood a goddess. No, not a goddess. There was no word in Equestria that described such beauty that transcended divinity itself. Oh, how I adored this mare that was made for me and me alone. Her off white coat was tinted with the slightest hint of yellow. Clementine's azure locks were bound into the cutest "ponytail" I'd ever seen. And those eyes, a dazzling ruby red. She was no less a pony than she was a work of art. My heart was caught in my throat as I gazed at the god-empress of my soul before me. ECSTASY, THY NAME IS CLEMENTINE! "You ordered the cider, miss." "Guh?" "Yes, th' cider." "Ci-der?" I sputtered, my brain no longer a solid mass but a bowl of jelly devastated by the adorable Clementine. "Yeah. You know, the stuff made out of apples." "Ap-ples?" "Don't mind her, Clem. She's just tired after a long day." horned in Gossamer, while I stared off into space, dreaming about our beautiful house, spacious back yard, and our magical lesbian spawn. "Y'know sheriff, there was sumthing in the back of my mind..." "You aught to get checked for that, Woody. That might cause trouble for you in the long run." Okay, now I know. Gossamer IS that stupid. "Well, if it was important I woulda remembered." said Woody, as he downed his seventh glass. "I'll show Miss Poem to the hotel." I temporarily shook myself from increasingly sexually perverted fantasies involving Clementine and peanut butter to address Woody. "Oh, pish-posh, my dear Woody. I'm sure I can locate the hotel." "If y'all lookin' for th' hotel, it's across th' street and to th' left between th' drugstore and th' whorehouse." chimed Clementine. She sounded so cute even saying the word "whorehouse". The day is slowly giving away to the evening and my body needed a decent dinner and sleep for the busy day I'm sure to have tomorrow. I dreamily left the bar and followed Woody and the sheriff out when Clementine called after me. "I hope we can talk when you're feelin' better, Miss Poem." My glasses fogged up as i felt my entire body become flushed. Someponies would say it's the liquor talking but I had nary a drop. A drunkeness has over taken my body but it would was caused by something I'd couldn't explain. No, it was something I'd DIDN'T want to explain. Me. The pony looked on as the mare with her nose in a book, her only knowledge of love came from the cheesy bodice rippers that she read in her spare time. Now, not only have I fallen in love I fell in the worst kind of love. Love at first sight. And with somepony who was the same gender, no less. I skipped all the way to the hotel, happy as a lark. When I first came here, this whole town seemed to be conceived only to vex me (at best) but I have did a complete (and somewhat) hasty 180. Yes sir, nothing would bring me down again. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE SCHOOL TEACHER JOB HAS ALREADY BEEN FILLED?!" I backed Woody into the wall, utter hatred burning in my eyes. He looked nonplussed for somepony who was about to die in the most hideous way possible. And believe me, I thought of five hundred in the past minute. "No need ta shout, Pretzel." he said as he walked around me, since I was nearly paralyzed with extreme fury. "I just remembered this mornin'. No biggie." "NO BIGGIE?! I came to this damned town for nothing?!" I took several deep breaths as I slowly calmed down (at least I didn't want to tear Woody's heart out and show it to him while it was still beating). "So...tell me about this mare." "Well, she's an Earth Pony, like you and she comes from Canterlot, like you." Anger and murderous rage started to fill me again. "Take me to the school, Woody." I growled. With a shrug of his shoulders he led me to the schoolhouse. It was quaint little red building with a group of foals and their parents crowding the new schoolmare. My suspicions were proven correct. Her! The evil returned to my life! "PERSIMMON PEPPER!" I roared, frightening several foals, their parents, and many animals in a three mile radius. Persimmon looked at me with that obnoxious smirk she always had on that face of hers. She threw back her head and started to chuckle. "Ohhohoho. If it isn't Pretzy. Like always you're a day late and a bit short." I stared at her, teeth grinding and eyes narrowed. "It is on, Percy." I seethed as I walked towards my arch nemesis. "It. is. ON!" Author's Note Any similarities to anypony living, dead, or background is purely coincidental. So, comments?
Failures and FrustrationsChapter 2: Failures and Frustrations Persimmon Pepper. By themselves the words are at best, cute but combined they form the name of the most evil pony ever. Oh, how I LOATHED her! I'd figure she would be the one who'd would ruin my life. The only way this moment could get any worse is if she'd invited my entire immediate family (and that's a whole lot of pony) and forced me to wear a clown suit. "So Percy." I said, trying to be as cool as a cucumber, "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" That obnoxious, smug smirk was still plastered on her face. She gleefully spun around, showing off that ugly green and white schoolmarm outfit. The group of confused foals and their parents looked on at the pathetic spectacle before them. "Really, Pretzy. Late again as usual." The venom just dripped out of her mouth as she brought her hoof to her mouth, threw her head back and cackled (again). "OHHOHOHOHOHO!" A sane mare would have retrieved the sheriff, namely since the deputy was right there, and had everything handled in a fair and an impartial manner. It's a shame I wasn't a sane mare. "This was my job, you pastel slattern! Mine, mine, MINE!" Not the best comeback in the world but at this point I didn't care. I was livid beyond livid. Low growling sounds escaped my muzzle, making me sound like some sort of crazed beast pacing in it cage at the zoo. "Oh, Pretzy, Pretzy, Pretzy. I know you heard the phrase "The early bird catches the worm"",she sneered. "Of course, a little sweet talk helps. "Calling it sweet talk, now aren't we." "Then call it, taking the initiative." Persimmon said. "CALL IT SLEEPING AROUND, YOU SKANK!" Now I really wanted to strangle her within an inch of her life. "Who was it? The mayor? The superintendent?" "That is a really low blow, Pretzy." Persimmon said, crocodile tears forming in her eyes. "And for your information, it was the superintendent's brother." I decided to play my trump card against this promiscuous bore and thrust my hoof in Woody's direction. "BWAHAHAHA! Foolish Percy, behold...THE DEPUTY! Ergo, I also know the sheriff! BWAHAHA..." "Hi Woody." "Hello, Miss Pepper." My mouth hung open as I just remembered the small flaw in my hasty plan. Oh yes. Since she was here first, they probably met already,I thought, utterly defeated. "Oh, poor little Pretzy. I'm sure there is a job opening for somepony with your talents. All we have to do is find somepony that would hire drab asexual bookworms with glasses. I'm sure the nursing home is right up your alley, just don't let them mistake you for a resident." "Well...I...er...YOUR MOTHER!" And with that (poorly thought-out) last word I stormed off leaving behind my most hated rival, the foul smelling sheriff's deputy, a gaggle of confused foals, and their irritated parents who would most assuredly try to explain all the bad language their young one absorbed. I stormed through the town in a mood most foul. HOW DARE SHE!, I thought, wanting to scream it out on top of the largest building. Then it hit me. No job means no money and no money means no home. My head hung low as my angry stomping became a sad gait. What to do. What to do. "Watch where ya walkin', ya dumb idjet!" In my fogginess, I seem to have bumped into an elderly mare. A rather angry elderly mare. Rule number one, as told to me by my mother, be polite to your elders. I gracefully bowed to her to beg her forgiveness. "Beg your pardon,ma'am." WHACK! She proceeded to hit me on the head several times with her bag. Oh, how this town DESPISES me. The old crone stopped trying to introduce blunt force trauma to my already aching head and thrust a large heavy crate into me. "Ya'll can make it up to me by loadin' these boxes into the wagon!" The old mare stormed back into a building with a placard that read "GREENGROCER'S GROCERIES. A smaller sign underneath read "GOING OUT OF BUSINESS FOREVER". "So I take it you're Greengrocer." I said, trying to make small talk as I hoisted another heavy crate into the wagon. "No, I'm Princess Celestia. Of course I'm Greengrocer, ya jackass!" The mare spat back. "I was just trying to..." "Less yappin', more loadin'!" This mare and and her formally charming now grating "corn pone" accent was starting to annoy me. I decided to shut my mouth lest I incur another rustic tongue lashing. My ears perked up at a heavenly sound all of the sudden. "You can't be leavin' too, missus Greengrocer?" Clementine! My heart started to sing when it heard her. Of course, the racket irritated the butterflies in my stomach. "TURN OFF THAT RACKET!", they seemed to say as they banged on the wall. "Yep, I'm leavin'! An' you an' your pappy better leave, too! If'n ya'll know what's good for ya." Against my better judgement, I decided to insert myself into the conversation. Like, what the worst that could happen. Greengrocer could hit me again. Clementine could think I was a (bigger) fool. I could catch on fire, be eaten by wild animals, wet myself, and so on. "May I inquire about the current happenings in town that would have you to leave?" "Big Oil." Clementine growled, saying the two words like they were some sort of ancient curse that mustn't be said. "Um...Big...er...Oil?" I meekly asked. A fire of pure anger lit up in Clementine's eyes. The name (if it was a name) struck an unpleasant chord with her. "Yes, Big Oil! Only th' worse pony ever!", Clementine was becoming more angry as she continued. "He been buyin' up the town." "So...um...that's bad?" "YOU'RE DANG RIGHT, THAT'S BAD!" Clementine's voice now became a roar. "That skunk been cheatin' ponies out of their homes and livelyhoods for th' last couple of months." "Well, why don't you call the authorities?" It seemed like an intelligent thing to say at the time. They both stared at me like I was brain damaged. Then they both exploded with laughter. Yes folks, Pretzel Poem has put her hoof in it yet again. "Oh, that's rich!" cackled Greengrocer, like the witch she is. "Every time we get a sheriff, they either wind up in Big Oil's pocket or up there." Greengrocer pointed to a hill off in the distance. Several gravestones peppered the hill. A hideous looking vulture nested on the branch of a twisted branch of a dead tree, adding to the macabre imagery. Frankly, the whole thing made me sort of nauseous. "Are all those..." Clementine glumly nodded. "Each one was a sheriff that Big Oil couldn't buy so his henchmen..." She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. "Have ya'll heard of the Bloodhoof gang?" "Woody might have mentioned them in passing." "Tha' whole lot of them are either crooked lawponies or jus' plain ol' crooks that Big Oil got ta hirin'!" Greengrocer said, as she concluded her packing. "Where ya from, missy?" "Canterlot, why?" "Ya'll better get that ass of yer's back there then!" And with a cackle, the old mare hooked the wagon up to herself and sped off at an unimaginable speed for an elderly pony. "If I had money, my arse would be back at Canterlot." I mumbled to myself. A gentle, reassuring hoof touched my shoulder. Clementine gave me a gentle smile that calmed my frazzled (or in my current state, mangled) nerves. "Don't worry about it," said Clementine. "That old coot says a lot of things." We both looked at each other and, strangely enough started chuckling along with her. A few tears started to form in my eyes, by products of my earlier frustrations. "Thank you." I croaked. "If you need a place to stay, maybe me and my dad can put you up for a few days." "But I shouldn't impose. I mean you have your own problems and I..." "Please, I insist." Damn my soft heart and those beautiful eyes of hers. She wasn't going to take no for an answer. For the strangest reasons, the butterflies left my stomach and an all-enveloping calm filled me. There are many types of magic. Some that can move mountains, others that can pulverize an island but the magic of normalcy is the greatest of them all. "Very well," I said, giving in like the fool I was. "But I must pull my own weight." "Aren't you a teacher?" No use avoiding it now. "Well, I mean I'm pretty intelligent, but my two special talents are...sigh...pretzel making and poetry." I expect her to laugh at me. Like everypony else except my parents. My whole family on both my mother's and father's side are scholars, as are my brothers and sisters. And when your youngest (no matter how smart she is) gains the most confusing and contradictory cutie mark in all of Equestria, you can't help but be somewhat disappointed. But unlike so many others, Clementine didn't laugh at me. "You make pretzels?", she said. I nodded grimly. And suddenly she beamed with glee. "That's great." "I mean it's nothing to wr...WHA?!" "Daddy needs something else to serve at the Pussycat beside booze and pretzels sound like the perfect thing." I stood there in silence for who knows how long. My talent for making twisted salted bread snack is actually appreciated? Pretzel Poem, the pony who is most likely to run screaming from the room when the term "pretzel maker" was used is becoming what she hates the most. And would probably enjoy it. "Well, Miz Poem?", said Clementine with those big, pleading eyes of hers. "It would be a pleasure." said the fool that was I, mentally drooling over the fact I would be under the same roof as my beloved. "Great, I'm gonna try to talk daddy into letting you stay." And she was off like a bolt of lightning, leaving me alone with my thoughts. "I'll be under the same roof as Clementine." I gleefully said to myself. Just then the logical half of my brain (which I haven't been using lately since I stepped foot in this town) kicked in. You know her father might say no. "But there's a good chance he could say yes." Okay, even if you are allowed to stay, what makes you think that Clementine will love you. "I'll just use what I learned from my books to woo her." You mean those brain dead romance novels and those trashy bodice rippers. "Well...I mean...since you put it that way." Plus, what if she offended by the very thought of a same gender relationship. And what would the town say. These types of towns don't cotton well to "fillyfoolers". "Our love would weather any stor..." What happens if she already has a coltfriend. I came to a sudden realization. What if she did have a coltfriend. Not only would I look like a fool (a filly fool as it were) but I would become the town degenerate. Oh, hello Miss Pervert. Fine weather we're having today. Are you planning to spit on our wholesome values with your sexual deviancy? And Clementine would really despise me. "ARGH! What was I thinking?", I groaned out loud. "Um, excuse me?" "YAAAAAAAAAAAA!" I leaped twenty feet into the air, hitting my head on Greengrocer's sign. Turning around I could see the face of sheriff Gossamer. Oh, will he get a good tongue lashing from me and the knot on my head. "Can I...ahem...have a word with you?", said a blushing Gossamer. I put aside cursing out the flaxen maned boob and decided to hear him out. "Yes? Well, out with it, man. I haven't got all day." I said, still feeling cross at loosing a one-mare argument. "Are you a poet? I mean I should have asked because of your name. Plus..." He pointed at my cutie mark (aka the bane of my existence), a quill overlaid on a pretzel. I looked at him, somewhat puzzled. Of course, a mare as well read as myself would have at least a few poetry books, but as for writing the things, my experience is between zilch and nada. "I've been known to dabble.", I replied, lying my ass off. An obnoxious, ear to ear grin formed across Gossamer's face. "Excellent!", he beamed. "I need you to help me write a love poem." "Gossamer, you scamp.", I proceeded to gently nudge him in the ribs. "So, who's the lucky mare?" "Oh, she doesn't know I love her yet." Figures. "And you want me to help you win her heart, is that it?" "Yep." "And who is this lucky gal?" "Clementine." At that instant, my entire world collapsed in on it's self. Gossamer is my rival for Clementine?! I wanted to find a way out. No. I'd just tell him no. "I'd be delighted." Dumbass! I just mentally facehooved at myself. "Great. I'll see you tonight at the jail.' Again, I was alone with my thoughts. I was helping my romantic rival steal the mare of my dreams. Failure. That word screamed out at me. Only one thought crossed my mind at that moment. You blew it, Pretzel. You blew it. Author's Note If you're wondering, I had to tone down Clementine's accent because she would sound too similar to Greengrocer.
Of Pretzels and PoemsChapter 3: Of Pretzels and Poems Ah! Such is my (increasingly) pathetic life. Charged with helping my romantic rival woo my beloved (who doesn't even know my romantic intentions towards her). Through the now darkened streets, illuminated only by lamp light I made my way to the sheriff's office. Gossamer (the big ham) and his deputy (and foul smelling sidekick) Woody greeted me at the door. "Come in. Come in." said Gossamer as he yanked me inside and checked to see if the coast was clear (all this secrecy for a love poem?!). A life time of irritation towards this fool was building up within me, despite knowing Gossamer for a total of two days (two and half tops). Inside the jail cell was a rather obese pony sleeping away in a drunken stupor. "Um..." I pointed at the snoozing prisoner. "Oh, that's just Teetotaler. Shotglass kicked him out of the bar again." Gossamer stated in a matter of fact voice that implied this was a regular thing. Teetotaler (having the most hypocritical name ever) awoken, very much like a fairy tale princess. Except being male, drunk, grossly overweight, and being completely disgusting. "Ah, geez. I'sh gotta getsh home. The missus will kill me." Yes, we don't want to keep Pale Horse in business, now would we. "You're such a cut up, Teetotaler." chuckled Gossamer. Apparently, alcoholism is totally hilarious and nopony told me about it. Woody released Teetotaler from the cell. Teetotaler stumbled from left to right, garnering a few childish giggles from Gossamer and Woody. He stopped short at the door and stared at me. "Did anypony tell you that you look cute?" Teetotaler then proceeded to vomit all over the floor and my hooves before his tottered out through the streets, drunkenly singing as loud as he can. I immediately formed a "happy place" in my mind (Why no, this isn't vomit, its a gentle blast of refreshing spring water), to keep me from screaming my head off. "Towel, Miz Poem." said Woody, offering me a towel (an extremely filthy towel, at that). As I wiped the vomit from my hooves, Gossamer snapped in his "let's get to work" mode. "Now, Miss Poem..." "Call me Pretzel." I said. I would prefer that he'd call a carriage to get me away from her. "Since, you're a lady..." Wow, I must have been living a lie for the past twenty-two years. "How would I go about writing a love poem for my love." "You don't have one written, do you?" "Actually, I do." Gossamer then whipped out a ratty looking piece of paper loaded with scribbling and incoherent writing. He then started to clear his throat. Sweet Celestia! He's going to read it! "Ahem." My dearest Clementine. I want you to be mine. As sure as the sun and the moon. You make me croon. Until noon. He had that moronic grin on his face as I looked at him, dumbfounded. This wasn't a poem, it was a crime against literature. No, a WAR CRIME against literature! It was sewage wrapped up in iambic pentameter and framed in stupidity and lousy rhyming. "Well?" He said, smiling like an idiot. "It's...um...well...what do you think Woody?" I turned towards Woody, hoping he would get me out of this mess. "Ya don't convey yer true emotions well enough, yer use of rhyming is extremely forced, and ya style is too derivative of Early Pre-Celestian styles." And then Woody spat into the spitoon. Like they said, inside of every grungy looking deputy, there is a snobby literature critic trying to get out. "He's right.", I said. Gossamer began to sulk in the corner, sucking on his hoof like a petulant child. I went over to his desk and silently took out a quill and a clean sheet of paper. Woody and Gossamer, who decided to stop acting like a spoiled foal started to look on. I put quill to paper and started to write. Gossamer and Woody looked on in silent awe as I went to work. My imagination went wild with images of me giving Clementine the love poem, watching her eyes tear up. She would take my hoof and we would watch the sunset together. And then we would kiss tenderly into the night. Damn! I'm the most foolish pony ever. Foolish in thinking I could shape the minds of young foals, foolish in thinking I could escape the shadow of my family, and foolish in thinking Clementine would love me. Fool all around. That's me in a nutshell. Around two, I finished my magnum opus. Pouring my feeling onto the paper and having them become one with the ink. Gossamer looked over my work like a second grade teacher looking over math homework. "This is pretty good." Gossamer said, giving his muted opinion. PRETTY GOOD?! I poured my heart and soul into that piece of paper so you can steal the love of my life away from me, and all you can say is PRETTY GOOD?! I wanted to stab him to death with my quill right there and then. No jury would convict me. "Now all I have to do is deliver it." Sheriff Gossamer got as far as the door before he froze up. His pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks, his breathing became ragged, and he started to sweat profusely. This is what we call in the "love game" as the "Seven Yard Stare". Woody just rolled his eyes. "It's happenin' again." said Woody, shaking his head in pity. "I-I-I-I-I CAN'T DO THIS!" And as fast as the wind, Gossamer bolted under the desk. Something tells me that this has happened before. "Come on out, you big baby!" I grunted, as I tried to drag him out by his tail. Unlike his name, Gossamer was immovable as a brick outhouse. I just threw up my hooves and started to leave. "But how would I give Clem the poem?" whimpered Gossamer. I wanted to leave this fool like the whiny mess that he was. But my conscience (Damn you, conscience!) got the better of me. "I have a busy day tomorrow and I need my sleep. I'll think of something, so good night for now!" Leaving behind a confused Gossamer and an indifferent Woody, I made my way to the Prancing Pussycat. I silently prayed that Mr. Shotglass will look into the kindness of his heart and let me stay. Murmurings were heard from the Pussycat as I neared the door. The more masculine voice had gotten louder as I approached. "Absolutely not! We ain't runnin' a flophouse!", Shotglass said, at near shouting level. "This pony might be a lunatic." "Be reasonable, daddy!", pouted Clementine, cutely. "She want to make an honest day's pay. So she won't be livin' here for nothin'." "What can that fusspot do? 'sides complainin'!" "I, my dear sir, am a maker of salty breaded snacks." I said, making my grand entrance. Shotglass still gave me a skeptical look. "What?", he said coldly. "I'm a pretzel maker, okay! It's in my name, for Celestia's sake." "Well, ya'lls a mare." No duh! "An' since yer a mare, ya'll won't have any impure intentions towards my Clem." Actually I do. But I'll stay quiet for now. "An' you say that ya'll willin' ta work?" "Indubitably, my good stallion." "Very well. Ya gots yaself a place ta stay. Ah expects ya up bright an' early ta set up th' Pussycat." We shook hooves as an informal contract as Clementine cheered on. In the last two days I, gained a job, met a grungy deputy and the brain dead fop they call a sheriff, met the second worst pony, fell in love instantly, lost my job to the worst pony, found out the town is under the constant threat of criminals, and agreed to help said brain dead fop steal the mare of my dreams. All in all, this has been a lifetime of taxing experiences balled up into two short days. "I'll show you to your room." The ever pleasant Clementine said. She lead me to a small room with a rather uncomfortable looking cot and several crates blocking the window. An apologetic look formed on Clementine's face. "I'm sorry," She said. "This is the only empty room in the Pussycat." "Oh, pish-posh." I said, brushing of her concern like dandruff. "A room is a room no matter how small..." Just then I heard several small squeaks. "...or rodent filled." "Call if ya'll need anything." And I was alone again with my thoughts. That idiot will be here tomorrow night for the express concern of getting Clementine to fall in love with him. I nodded off as soon as my head hit the pillow. My thoughts slowly melted into dreams. I was in a church, at the far, far end of the aisle. The whole thing stretched out for miles and miles with the pews filled to the brim with ponies. At the end of the whole thing was a preacher pony flanked by Gossamer and Clementine, dressed in their wedding attire. From what I could hear, the preacher already started the wedding. "...And if anypony has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace." "NO!", I screamed out, calling attention to myself. "I LOVE YOU, CLEMENTINE!" A horrified look crossed Clementine's face as the whole church exploded in anger. "Fillyfooler!", screeched one pony. "Degenerate!", shouted another. Persimmon Pepper (how did she get into the wedding I shall never know) started giving "I told you so"s to the enraged crowd. "I knew she was a fillyfooler, she was like that in school." squealed the loud mouth slattern. All of the sudden, Princess Celestia emerged from the crowd, stuffing her face with cake (she should at least have the decency to wait until the reception), just as angry as the crowd. "Pretzel Poem!", she roared. "I hereby banish you to the moon." She levitated me far up into the air and launched me through space. It was a shame I overshot the moon and kept going. "SOMEPONY SAVE ME!" But nopony heard my cries. I then heard a voice in the void call to me. "Pretzy...Pretzy...WAKE UP, FOUR EYES!" I took a half gainer out of the bed, finally awoken from my nightmare. Sunlight poured through the window as the birds sang their little morning songs, and looking down at me was Persimmon Pepper, with a smirk on her detestable little face. "Good morning, Pretzy.", she sneered. I wanted to go back to sleep and take my chances with the pitiless void than see HER face. "I am going to ask you two questions.", I threatened. "If I don't like the answer to either of them, I will toss you out of the window." "Very well." she said, rolling her eyes. Ignoring her rudeness, I started my "third degree". "One, how did you get in?" "The window. Ponies shouldn't keep ladders laying around were other ponies could take them, you know." I could have and should have throttled her right then and there. That annoying smirk on her face was making it even more tempting. "Two," I growled. "Why did you come up here?" "The sheriff." "What about him." Percy shoved an accusing hoof in my face. "Don't play dumb, Pretzy. I seen you talking to that handsome hunk of stallion last night." she said trying not to yell. I began to put two and two together. Laughter started to build up in my chest. "So, you think me and Gossamer..." "You're on a first name basis?!", Percy slumped to her knees and started to whine. "It's not fair! I have the looks, smarts, and most definitely, sex appeal! And you...well...you're you!" "Thanks for the backhanded insult, but I am not nor will I ever be in love with Gossamer. Now excuse me, but I have to set up the bar." "You mean you're not in love with him?" "Yes." Persimmon's eyes lit up. "Oh happy, happy day.", she sang. It was a wonder she didn't wake up the whole neighborhood. "He's in love with the bartender's daughter." I said, coolly. Percy's switch went from obnoxious glee to obnoxious overwhelming sadness. "Noooooo!", she howled, like the howler monkey she was. "It's not fair!" "Tough toenails, Percy!" Oh, how I do like rubbing it in. "Life's not fair. Remember how my research paper got passed over for yours." "Still harping on about that, Pretzy?" "Why, yes. Yes I am." "Humph. Well, I shall take my leave." And with that Persimmon Pepper stormed out of my room and headed out the door...after tripping down the stairs and forgetting the door was still locked. "Curse you, door!" she howled. I was surprised that she didn't wake Clementine and Shotglass from their slumber. Being the good sport that I was (and stifling my laughter at her attempts at opening the locked door), I decided to "unleash the beast", as it were. As an infuriated Percy stormed out of the Prancing Pussycat, I surveyed the work I needed to do. First order of business, set up the bar. I buzzed around the Pussycat like a bee. The floor was mopped AND waxed. Chairs set up neatly (until the inevitable bar brawl). Tables and the counter dusted. Everything was in place and nothing was stolen. Second order of business, make the pretzels. Dough was made, kneaded, twisted into their recognizable form, and placed into the over. After a while, I removed the reasons for part of my namesake from the oven, waited for them to cool, salted them, and put them in a bowl on the counter. Shotglass and Clementine emerged from upstairs. The shocked looks on their faces said all. "Th' Pussycat.", an astonished Shotglass said. "I-it's clean! It ain't been this clean in ages!" "Um...Did I do a good job?" I said, trying to read Shotglass's expression. "Only mama did as good of a job cleanin' up the 'Cat." Clementine said, in wide eyed amazement. At that moment, Shotglass started to laugh. "And I thought you Canterlot ponies couldn't handle hard work. Color me shocked.", Shotglass gave me an affectionate nudge on the shoulder. "C'mon ladies. Time ta open th' Pussycat!" The double doors of the Pussycat swang open and the usual cabal of drunks, fighters, gamblers, and drunk fighting gamblers filed in. Sans the small scuffle (only one chair was broken over a pony's head), everything was peaceful...until three-thirty that afternoon. I was manning the counter after placing my third batch of pretzels into the oven. Clementine was making sure the pretzels didn't burn and Shotglass was delivering today's profits to the bank leaving me (and the drunks) alone. "Barkeep! A glass of yer finest cactus juice." called a rather boisterous voice. I spun around and seen a rather overweight (what's with this town and obesity anyway) pony. He was clad in a hat and jacket of pure white seersucker with a large cigar clasped in his mouth. Just looking at him I could tell that voice belonged to that fat stallion. "Aw, shucks. Ah'd thought ya was Clementine.", he sneered. "By th' way, where is our beloved patron of this fine establishment." "Mister Shotglass is out right now and Clementine is in the kitchen. Who might you be?" Looking at him, just looking at this fat, bloated excuse for a stallion I knew I hated him the second I laid eyes on him. He smirked at me as he proceeded to put the cigar out on the counter (did I mention how much I hated him). I was about to yell at him when I noticed the bar was silent. Not one single solitary peep. "I'm sorry, darlin'. I shoulda introduced my self. Th' name's Big Oil." So this is the legendary Big Oil. I knew that any of the ponies here could send this bloated gasbag on a one way trip to Valhalla without blinking. But nopony moved. They were actually frightened of him for reasons I couldn't imagine. He had no bodyguards and he looked like him couldn't handle himself in a fight. Clementine emerged from the kitchen, with a tray of pretzels hovering over her head. "This batch is done...", Clementine dropped the tray as soon as she caught sight of Big Oil. "YOU!" He gave Clementine this lusty look as he lit up another cigar. "Now, now Clem. That's no way to meet an old buddy of yer pappy." said Big Oil. "Ya'll ain't no buddy of daddy's!", Clementine was seething with an anger I haven't seen in a pony. "Now git, before I call the sheriff!" Big Oil just chuckled. "Oh, you mean good ol' Gossamer. He come around eventually or he'll...well let's just say Pale Horse is gonna be might pleased with the results." Clementine was close to tears as Big Oil's chuckling turned to full blown laughter. I've decided I had enough of him. Picking up the fallen pretzel tray, I left from behind the counter. "Excuse me, sir.", I said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. "I have to ask you to leave." "Or what?" "Or this." WHAM! Big Oil's head jerked back as struck him in the face with the metal tray. Clementine and the bar patrons looked on in abject horror, as if I killed him. The smiling and guffawing left Big Oil's face leaving only extreme fury. "Big mistake, missy. BOYS! We got us a filly who doesn't know her place." Several demonic looking ponies emerged from the shadows. The mere presence of these stallions caused full grown ponies to wet themselves. Big Oil soon returned to his smug, overconfident self. "Where ya'll from, missy." sneered Big Oil. My knees suddenly turned to jelly as the frightening looking stallions advanced on me. "C-canterlot." I stammered. "Well, Miss Canterlot. Allow me to introduce ya'll to the Bloodhooves. It's a shame ya'll time in town was short. I'll send your family a sympathy basket." The color left my cheeks as the Bloodhooves leveled several weapons at me, each one making an ominous clicking sound. "Bye bye, Miz Canterlot." said one of the Bloodhooves, as he was about to fire.
Crouching Gossamer, Hidden PretzelCrouching Gossamer, Hidden Pretzel My life flashed before my eyes. A shame it wasn't much of a life. The outlaws advanced on me, bloodlust in their eyes. All the while, the bar patrons (the fat cowards) pretended there was nothing going on. Yes, my hash was about be settled. I cooked my pretzel and was about to cash in my chips. My synonyms for death were about to dry out when Sheriff Gossamer and Woody sauntered in. Now I know I'm going to die, I grimly thought. The Bloodhooves and Big Oil turned their attention to Gossamer. "What's all this then." He had the nerve to ask. "Big Oil was makin' advances towards me, sheriff!" Clementine said, her normally cool demeanor becoming frayed. "Now, now sheriff." said Big Oil, with all the sincerity of an insurance salespony. "Is it against the law to admire such equine beauty, such as the lovely Clementine here." Gossamer had to think on that one for a minute. Maybe Big Oil should have used smaller words. "No, I guess not." Gossamer conceded. "And my boys here, well they were just protectin' me from the wrath of this here maniac." "Now, hold on there!" I yelled, becoming fed up with this travesty of justice. The largest member of the Bloodhooves took a step towards Gossamer. "Yeah, sheriff. We weren't doing anything wrong. Just lookin' out for the boss." said the stallion. This stallion kind of frightened me. He was huge (well huge in a relative sense, not that he was a fifty foot giant) and muscular with a dark reddish brown coat. On his muzzle grew an impressive handlebar mustache as black as his mane. All in all, this pony was what I expected a Bloodhoof to look like, a pony who could eat a whole wagon in one bite. I was surprised Gossamer didn't hightail it and ran but, to his credit, faced down the monster. "I heard about you through the grapevine," said Gossamer, not letting any type of fear into his voice. "RedRum Hattrick." RedRum Hattrick just smirked. "I think my reputation proceeds me, eh sheriff." "I heard you killed six lawponies." "Now sheriff, that heresay.", said Big Oil. "Those ponies probably just slipped in the shower." How come I didn't believe him. To their credit, the patrons, Gossamer, and even Woody didn't fall for it. Hattrick lit up a cigar and blew smoke in Gossamer face. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Of course, we could handle this the manly way, sheriff." "Bring it, RedRum!" "It already been brought, sheriff!" "A shame you forgot the receipt!" "Ah'm plannin' on getting store credit!" "Oh, justice doesn't give out store credit!" "Ya'll sure?" All right, time to nip this foolishness in the bud. I stood between the two stallions, since I had an IQ greater than six. RedRum and Gossamer, in all of their testosterone fueled stupidity, were still trying to face each other down. "Gentlestallions, please behave yourself, we have ladies present." I said, feeling a little proud of myself for defusing a problem without violence. "Ya'll mean one lady and one brute." Big Oil sneered. Thanks for harshing my mellow, fatass! Red Rum and Gossamer separated and "went back to their corners", as it was. "Sheriff, ya'll still have ta do something on the pony that accosted me." Gossamer frowned and shook his head. "In the name of the town of Sweetwater, I, Sheriff Gossamer, place you under arrest." The drunken rabble breathed a sigh of relief (YOU FOUL SMELLING COWARDS!) and went back to their drinking. Woody, in a show of competence, was the one to "collar" me. He placed the chain and collar around my neck as Gossamer read me my rights. I (strangely enough) handled everything quite well...because I was in shock. "I'm a criminal. I'm a criminal. I'm a criminal..." I repeated over and over in a daze. Clementine ran over to Gossamer and Woody as they escorted me out of the Pussycat. "Please Sheriff Gossamer," pleaded Clementine (bless her). "She ain't done nothin' wrong 'cept hit that skunk who was tryin' to molest me." Nerves started to creep in on Gossamer as he started to sweat profusely. "I-i'm sorry...Clem.", he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's my duty." "Ya'll alike!", snorted Clementine. "You and Big Oil!" And with that, she bolted up the stairs and locked the door to her room. Hurt was written all over Gossamer's face as hung his head and led me away. All the while, Big Oil's laughter echoed in my ears. "That's what ya'll get, missy! Bwahahahahahaha!" It's official. Big Oil is worst pony! We arrived at the jail house as the sun was going down in the east. "Um...", I said, dreading jail time. "Will I have to share a cell with Teetotaler?" "Nope.", said Woody, with that dumb smile on his face. "Ya'll sharin' it with her." "Her?" In the cell sat a pony that certainly didn't fit it with the usual degenerates and drunks that graced these halls. The mare was a quite well dressed unicorn, despite giving an air of sleeze. She just sat there, flicking her well groomed mane. "Well, sheriff.", she spoke. "Got me a cellmate?" "In ya'll go, Miz Poem." said Woody as he filed me into the cell. I took a good long look at my cellmate. She had a silky white coat that rivaled even Clementine's. Her magenta (or some shade of red, perhaps mauve) was well curled. "So I bet ya'll pissed off Big Oil sumthin' fierce, huh Hon." my unicorn cellmate sneered. "Listen, you...you..." "Easy, hon. I'm on your side. Big Oil got me tossed in here too." "He has, miss...er...miss..." "Bellpepper. Bellpepper Blossom." "What exactly did you do to Big Oil to get tossed in here?" I asked. "Big Oil's "boys" were tryin' to mess with my "girls"." "Oh, that too bad. I hate it when bullies push around hard working..." It suddenly dawn on me. Yes, even I can have my stupid moments. "So I take it you're a..." "That's right, sugarcube. I run Bellpepper's Bordello. THE finest whorehouse in all of Equestria." Great! I'm locked in here with a pimp! "Sooo, you're a..." I couldn't even finish my sentence, lest I die of embarrassment. "A madam. That's right, sugar. Betcha want to know about the Bloodhooves." Not only she's a pimp, but she's the exposition pimp? It's official. I hate this town! "Well, hon. There are five Bloodhooves." No! Really?! "Ya'll met RedRum Hattrick. He was a former sheriff and as crooked as they come." "Can I ask you just one question before you continue, Bellpepper?" , I asked. "Shoot!", she said, which is ironic considering my question. "What are those weapons the Bloodhooves used?" "They're called firearms, hon.", said Bellpepper. "They get them from the Griffin Empire." "Well, I guess that kind of makes sense, with the griffins having digits and all." "Also, have you noticed that most of the Bloodhooves are unicorns." The thought kicked me in the head like a donkey. Come to think of it, I was too busy being shocked and awed to notice Redrum's horn. Unicorns just don't get that hefty. "Like I was going to say, sugarcube.", Bellpepper said, continuing her story. "There are five Bloodhooves. You all ready met the first." "Redrum.", I muttered. How can he NOT leave an impression. Unless you're blind in one eye and the other one's glass. "Next, is his brother, Slim. A little skinny feller." I didn't see him due to the walking solar eclipse that is his brother. "The third is Tobasco. The meanest pony this side of the west. He gets worse when he's mad." If he's a Bloodhoof, won't that already make him ONE of the meanest ponies. Really, the others don't sound like Filly Scouts to begin with. "Fourth is Crazy Eyes. Well, because he has crazy eyes. He's also a crack shot." Wouldn't being called Crazy Eyes make you a bad shooter. I mean the name "Crazy Eyes" doesn't scream 20/20 vision. "And the last is Black Magic. He studied magic all over Equestria." "Well, that doesn't sound like a bad..." "He killed all his teachers. Brutally." Yes. Sounds like an apple giving, straight A student there. "Why hasn't they been arrested yet?", I said, dreading the eventual answer. "'Cause Sugar, the law is either in Big Oil's pocket or...well you seen Gossamer." Bellpepper shook her head grimly. I wanted to stick up for Gossamer, I really did. But the only thing good about him is he's honest. Woody walked towards the cell. "You ladies are free to go.", said Woody, with that idiotic toothy grin of his. Bellpepper sashayed out of the cell, swinging her hips in a somewhat sexual manner. "So, the usual paid my bail?", she said. "Yep, they sure did." "Well, I gotta open up the doors for tonight. Later, honey." "Wait a minute.", said Gossamer, coming up from behind his desk. "Your bail has been paid but I still have to give you the "You Been Naughty" speech." And for the next twenty minutes (twenty long agonizing minutes) Gossamer given a speech on how a mare should conduct herself. I actually wanted the Bloodhooves to rush in and gun us all down in order for him to stop. When he finished, Bellpepper just rolled her eyes and left. Goodbye, Exposition Pimp, till we meet again. "Um...did anyone pay my...", I said, not wanting to be in here another second. "Yes, Mister Shotglass did.", Gossamer said. "But first..." "Not the speech!", I groaned like a petulant teenager. Instead, Gossamer threw himself at my hooves, looking up at me with pleading eyes. Oh, I know I wasn't going to like this. "Pleeeeease, help me, Miss Poem!", whined Gossamer. "I love Clementine and...I...I..." The fool started palpitating like he was having a baby. "Did you give her the love poem you...er...I wrote?" That stupid pleading look on his face said it all. Mentally, all I did was smirk. I mean, one less romantic rival for me and Clementine wouldn't touch Big Oil with a ten and a half foot pole. But my conscience (the little winged bastard) got the better of me again. I did the only thing I could do at a time like this. SLAP! "Get it together, you lily livered, flower sniffing pansy!", I yelled in the most authoritative voice I could muster. "Are you a stallion or a mouse?!" "Got any cheese.", sniveled Gossamer. SLAP! "Meet me outside the Prancing Pussycat in twenty minutes! And you'd better show up." The twenty minutes flew by (since there was no moralistic drivel involved) and Woody showed up with a shaking, whimpering Gossamer. I rolled my eyes, shoved Woody into a water barrel (so I wouldn't have to smell him) and took my place behind a nearby bush, grabbing Gossamer by his vest. "Listen, you little pissant!", I growled through my teeth. "You are going to repeat everything I say! Got it!" A wide eyed Gossamer nodded. He tossed a few pebbles at Clementine's window, each one making a plinking sound. PLINK! PLINK! PLINK! On the third plink, Clementine threw open her window and spying only Gossamer (due to Woody being in the barrel and I being in the bush, out of earshot). "What are you doin' 'round here this time of night, Sheriff?", asked a sleepy Clementine. She looked even more alluring in her nightgown. I could see why Gossamer and that pervert, Big Oil were so smitten. "I...er...ee...um..." "I came to see you, my dearest Clementine.", I whispered from behind the bushes. Gossamer's knees stopped knocking for at least two seconds, a record for him. "I-i you to see...I came to see you, my dearest Clementine!" bellowed Gossamer, his voice cracking while doing so. "Me?" "Er..." "I always loved you from afar, my angel of the west." "I-i always loved you from afar, my a-angel of the west!" "I have been trying to voice my feelings for a long time." "I-I-i have been trying to voice my feelings for a long time." Woody popped out of the barrel and with a smirk pulled out a guitar (where he hid it I had no idea). He then started to play and to my surprise, he was pretty good. I guess he can do more than take up space and stink. "My gentle cactus flower, my honeybee, my goddess." "M-my gentle cactus flower, my honeybee, my goddess." Clementine started to swoon a little. At that moment I knew I lost. I held back tears as I fed Gossamer his lines. "The moonlight stands as testament to your beauty." "The moonlight stands as testament to your beauty." "Oh, Sheriff...I...I mean this is all so sudden." Gossamer then started to get bold and ad lib. "Yes, my love. We are two halves of a broken cookie, tasting good either separate or apart." "Er..." I wanted to run from behind the bush and slap him again but I decided to stay put...for now. "So come to me, my little half cookie and we can be whole!" "Oh, Sheriff..." "Please call me Gossamer." The big ham's teeth glinted in the moonlight. Yes, the greatest lovers in history have nothing to fear from Gossamer, the pastry chef of love. Woody was actually overcome with tears while I just groaned. Really, at least try to stay on script! Gossamer climbed up a ladder that was on the side of the Pussycat to Clementine's window. "Well, what say you, my little cookie?" "Why don't you say some more sweet nothings in my ear...Gossamer.", said Clementine in the sexiest voice I ever heard. Gossamer's brain (as such as it is) finally kicked in. How could he say sweet nothings without his "drama coach". That's what he gets from going off script. As I was enjoying watching Gossamer squirm, I could feel hot air down my back. I did not like where this was going. "That's not you, is it Woody?" Yes, I knew it wasn't him but fear makes ponies stupid, alright. Woody pointed a shaking hoof at a large figure behind. "C-C-C-C..." "Don't tell me." "COYOTE!" "I TOLD YOU NOT TO TELL ME!" "RUN AWAY!" Me and Woody ran with the coyote in hot pursuit. Gossamer then took the chance and kissed Clementine to distract her from us being mauled. We ran all through the desert, with the coyote on our heels. Suddenly, we couldn't see the coyote anymore. "What a stroke of luck! He's gone!" "Um, Miz Poem." "What Woody?" Woody just pointed to the ground that we weren't on anymore. At that moment, gravity decided to kick in. Me and Woody fell straight into the gorge below but luckily something broke our fall, a cactus grove...and the coyote. We were back at square one (sans being full of cactus needles). Throughout the night, we ran from our relentless pursuer. "DOES HE EVER GIVE UP?!", I screamed to the unforgiving universe. "Watch out for that..." I slammed straight into a cactus. There were a lot of "I wishes" that night. Like, I wish I hadn't hit that cactus or I wish there wasn't a bee hive on that cactus and I wish said bee hive didn't fall on my head. Of course, it wasn't meant to be. Now, me, Woody, and the coyote were on the run from a swarm of EXTREMELY angry bees! "Not our night, eh Miz Poem!", said Woody. "Woody.", I said in a calmly psychotic tone of voice. "Yes, ma'am?" "SHUT UP!" We arrived back at town at sunrise, full of cactus needles and bee stings. Our coyote "friend" had gotten tired an hour ago and left (and they say coyotes are stupid). Gossamer was standing in front of the jailhouse, happy as a lark. "Oh, happy, happy, happy day!", he beamed. "Guess what happened, Miss Poem?" "What.", I said, flatly. "Clementine wants to go out with me! Isn't that great! And I was scared for nothing!" All Gossamer got from me was a kick in the face as I stormed back to the Pussycat, hungry, tired, depressed, and in pain. I was soon met by a panicing Shotglass. "PRETZEL!", he screamed in hysterics. "GET TH' SHERIFF!!" "Wha' happened?", I said, wearily. "Th' Bloodhooves! Th' Bloodhooves got my Clem!" Shotglass thrust a badly scrawled note into my face. Dear Sheriff If'n ya'll wants ta see Clementine again. Come to Deadpony Gulch. We be awaitin' Redrum Bad spelling aside I knew this note meant trouble. It got to be a trap. Unfortunately, I made what will be forever known as Mistake #1. "Where's Deadpony Gulch?", I said. "To th' east. Why?" I suddenly sped off in that direction. "Tell Gossamer to meet me there! I'm going to help Clementine!" And with that the biggest fool in Equestria, me, went towards certain doom. Author's Note Doesn't that chase scene seem familiar somehow? Naw!
