Life.

by Narshlop117

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Tragedy, Slice of Life
Length: 1877

When your life is as dull a gray as the world that surrounds you, the mundanities can make it all seem meaningless. Sometimes all we need is a little color -- or six -- to reintroduce us to what truly makes life worth living.

When your life is as dull a gray as the world that surrounds you, the mundanities can make it all seem meaningless. Sometimes all we need is a little color – or six – to reintroduce us to what truly makes life worth living.

Written By: Hoe Joward (me) and Pen Bearce (call him "Bear") THAT'S RIGHT BEAR! HEY EVERYBODY, BEARPLE BRO'S NAME IS PEN BEARCE! COME AND RAPE HIM AND TAKE HIS POSSESSIONS! FUCK YOU BEAR!!!
Acknowlegements:
Unofficial theme tune
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9EU3kUXC0_I
Another relevant song
http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Z4nAUPw8j5s

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-11-30 18:10:13 UTC

A Tragicomedy About Life

Life.

Life… It’s a funny thing, is life. Almost to funny to bear… I was having train troubles. As a frequent hiker, I was used to these. It was just gone lunchtime, surrounded by hundreds of ponies on their holidays in the middle of town, Cooplands sandwich in one hand and a bucket and spade in the other, all hemmed in together, diverted by the shape of the houses into one stream of flesh. I stood at the train station opposite the pub, watching the hundreds of ponies go by with only a birdwatching book in my hooves and not much in my pockets. I’d almost been around the whole of equestria now, so most of my money had already been spent. My stomach wasn’t pleased at that and made sure I knew by grumbling profusely.

“You sound hungry, friend.” My bird-book leapt out of my hand as a disembodied voice wafted over my shoulder and a Cooplands bag landed on my lap. I jumped up to see a stallion behind me, leaning on the back of my bench frowning slightly.

“Don’t do that,” he complained. “Your sandwich is on the floor now.” He was right. I looked at my hooves to see the paper bag beginning to soak up the moisture of the grass. I quickly snatched it up before its contents became soggy and unappealing.

The stallion took the space to the left of my bench and stared out into the street before us. “Busy day, today,” he said. As I inspected the inside of the bag I began to actually pay attention to him. He was… Odd. There’s no fine way to put it really. His gravelly, yet country, voice seemed to push the air away from him as he spoke. “The trains’ll all be late.”

I took in his appearance. His right hoof hung low and his left sat in the pocket of his faded, grey jeans. He coughed quietly, bringing his hoof to his chest for a moment before pulling a pair of obnoxiously golden-rimmed sunglasses out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket and bringing them to up to his face, a golden mane flopping over the front of the lens. His coat was bright red and dull, unwashed. on his flank was a large green apple half.

“Name’s Mac”, The stallion grumbled, “I don’t give shit what yours is.”

I realised I had probably been staring at him for a moment more than he was comfortable with and started to stutter. “Are… Are you sure you want me to have this?” He nodded slightly, scratching at the sideburn stretching across his right cheek before replying.

“eeyup, I do. But I think,” he said, pointing at my gut. “Your stomach wants you to have it more.” The stomach grumbled in agreement.

I sheepishly took out half of what appeared to be a daisy sandwich and took a bite before he told me,“Oh, and your book is still on the floor.” The bag and half-sandwich leapt out of my hand and I scrambled to pick up my treasured bird-book.

“I thought I told you not to do that.” His tone seemed almost disappointed and the slight frown reappeared.

“Sorry.” I muttered back. Silence lapsed between us as I retook my seat on the bench. The stallion stared out into the street once more as he tapped his cowboy boot on the ground to the rhythm of an unheard tune and rolled a cigarette. I sighed.

“You know what it says on the front of the packet, don’t you?”

He looked at me quizzically. “What?”

“I said, you know what it says on the front of the packet, don’t you?”

The tobacco packet returned from his leather jacket and he read, “Smoking kills…”

“You’re only young, you know? There’s no need to do that to yourself.”

He grinned a timberwolf-like grin and spoke to me with a sudden fondness, “I think the same way too. People who smoke cigarettes are fucking idiots.” He said as he lit his own. “I chain-smoke, you know.”

“That’s even worse!” I blurted.

“Yeah, it is. You can probably tell from the state of my voice.” He took a long drag before continuing, “I do death-metal screaming too, which doesn’t help.”

I was perplexed. “So why do it? Any of it?”

He sighed a cloud of smoke and removed his sunglasses. Time seemed to stand still as he stared at the floor. “Because I don’t care.” He looked me in the eye. “I’m going to die in four months.”

I paled. I went white as a bone while he continued to look me in the eye.

“Oh god… I’m so sorry, I-”

“I don’t care, you know.” He cut me off. “I honestly couldn’t care less. I’ve seen enough of the world already.” His gaze returned to the street before us. “I’ve been to every country that’d let me in, I’ve climbed mountains with griffons, swum the equestrian channel, jumped from a dragon’s back, you name it. I’ve seen enough of the world to die happy.” He punctuated the end of his sentence by sending a ring of smoke into the street.

It was truly surreal. He must have been half my age and he was talking as if he were triple.

He took another drag before telling me, “Life… It’s a funny thing is life.” His hoof twitched. “Almost too funny to bear…”

Silence filled the void between us once more. I looked down at my book, trying to look busy, inspecting the damage. The aged paper was soggy now. I was upset.

“Don’t look so glum, chum.” He grinned his timberwolf-like grin at me. “It’s not worth it. There’s so much better in this world that that book, you know. You should be glad that’s all you’re gonna lose today.”

“But… It was my grandad’s.”

“So?”

“I liked my grandad!” I felt myself becoming quite frustrated with this stallion.

“You probably did. I liked mine too. In fact,” He took it from me. “You’re not even going to lose this.” He flicked through the pages, wiping them with his hand to help the drying process. “The damage isn’t nearly as bad as you thought. In fact, it’s your lucky day today.” He slipped a battered leather knapsack off his shoulder and opened it, handing me an even older book.

“It’s about birds, too.” He grinned.

I scanned the tattered cover, brushing away the dust. The colours were incredible: even though they were faded, the back of the cheeky-looking blue tit was still stunning.

“I can’t take this from you!” I exclaimed. “It’s much too valuable!”

“I don’t care. It’s my sister’s, anyway.”

I nearly dropped it from shock. “What!?” A few heads turned at that outburst. “That makes it even worse!”

He just laughed at me, putting his hoof on my shoulder for support. “She won’t care either.”

“How can you know that?”

He turned to me and smiled an almost sad smile. “Because she’s going to die today.”

I can’t even remember what I thought at that moment. I was utterly perplexed, starstruck. I think that I nearly passed out.

The frown returned now, but even more intense. “Oh goodness, are you OK?”

The world was spinning. Nothing much made sense anymore. How could somepony say such a thing so casually? How can anypony laugh and say that kind of thing straight after, unfazed?

He took me by the foreleg and sat me back down on the bench he found me on. When I finally found my words again, I asked him: “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of kourshe!” He replied, still holding onto my foreleg.

“Are you alright in the head?”

Once again, that timberwolf-like grin of his returned. “That, my friend, is a matter of opinion.”

I could only look at him and whisper in a strangulated tone, “You’re fucking barmy. Absolutely off your rocker.”

He let go of my foreleg but continued to smile. “If you say so.”

I was liking this stallion less and less by the minute. I just couldn’t understand him.

He reached into his bag once more before returning with an old flintlock pistol. “Hold this for me, will you?”

I didn’t have time to deny him before it was in my hooves and he was fishing about in his bag again. “Ah, here we go!” He exclaimed, pulling out a gun loading and cleaning kit.

“What the bloody hell?”

“What? Nobody’s going to think it’s actually real.”

“Oh good, so it’s not then?”

“Well… I didn’t say that now, did I?”

“You’re unbelievable. I just… I CAN’T UNDERSTAND you, I just… I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I said I’m leaving!” I stood up and put his gun down on the bench.

“Now,don’t do that,” He said, standing too. I bought you a sandwich and gave you a book; the least you can do is sit with me while I wait for my sister.”

I chewed my lip, feeling guilty at the mention of his sister.

“Please?”

The look that he was giving me was almost pathetic.

“Dude,-”

“ALRIGHT! Look, I’ll stay here until either your sister or my train arrives, but I’m leaving as soon as that happens.”

“Thank you.” The stallion smiled. No teeth were shown this time; the corners of his lips simply tugged upwards to reveal nothing but a happy stallion.

I shakily sat back down, nudging the gun back towards him. He picked it up and began to polish it with a small rag tenderly.

“Your train is awfully late.” He observed, shattering the silence with that bizarre, gravelly voice of his.

“Yes, it is. I’m starting to get quite annoyed.” I chewed a bit too hard on my lip and let it go, cursing at the sight of blood.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” He said, pouring something down the barrel and frowning at the sound of raised voices behind us.

I turned and looked to see a mare facing a guardspony pointing our way.

“Oh God, there’s a guard over there.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so’? There’s a bloody mare over there pointing us out to a bloody GUARD!”

I turned back to him as I heard a ‘clunk’ from his gun. “And you’re still bloody messing with that thing!”

“I wouldn’t worry; my sister’s here now.” I followed his gaze to a small orange mare with a 10 gallon hat coming out of a small cart in front of the pub.

“Oh good. Are you going to go talk to him?”

The stallion grinned. “No.”

“What?”

He raised the pistol and pointed it across the street.

“Don’t do that you bloody idiot!” I swung my head around and, sure enough, the guardspony had started to approach us, shouting into a walkie-talkie. I turned to look at the stallion's sister across the street.

“Life…” The sister was mouthing the same word as the stallion next to me.

“Oh god, what are you doing you idiot!? What are you DOING!?”

“It’s a funny thing, is life.” They both said. Their hooves twitched.

“CRACK!”

“Almost too funny to bear…”

I spent the rest of that night crying in my room.

It never changes. This life paved with blood and bones never will.It’s always the same.