Minor Turbulence

Minor Turbulence Part 1: Troubled Past

Prologue

By: Midway Bridge

I was known as the world’s worst flyer, graduating fourth lowest in my flight class.  The third lowest score was Ditzy Doo who was in multitude of horrible accidents from right from the beginning of the course due to her eye impairment.  The second lowest was Wheezer who has a very bad case of asthma and had to be exempt from the final exam which counted as 60% of the class grade.  The lowest score belonged to Fluttershy who mysteriously disappeared halfway through the year.   I was the lowest scored Pegasus who actually completed the whole course.  It wasn’t that I was poorly skilled it was just that I am incredibly unlucky, but I’ll tell you about that later.

I was rather impressed with the young filly who graduated in the front of the pack as #1.  She was the youngest flier to perform a class 3 Sonic Rainboom.  I knew that she was going places when she grew up, and everyone in the graduating class of 1996 knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life: to join the Wonderbolts.  She set her goals high and only few thought that she couldn’t do it.  Her name was Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow dash was immediately offered hundreds of jobs upon graduation, but she decided to be a weather pegasus in a small town just so she could spend lazy afternoons practicing and napping.  I wasn’t offered a single job; in fact I had to go and practically beg to get one.  I worked as a simple paper pusher in the Cloudsdale weather factory.  You know, the one guy who has to stamp 'approved' or 'declined' right at the top of the pages of the weather requests.  Anypony would think that job was quite easy, and they’d be right.  Of course the one time that somepony from our department screws up it was me.  Somepony had requested a tornado and I must have mindlessly stamped ‘APPROVED’ on it or something.   What happened as a result I'm still not sure, but I know it wasn't good.

Two days later that same Rainbow Dash who was number one in our class had a very, shall I say, loud argument with my boss over the whole matter about legal responsibilities while I sat in the corner of the room feeling like a complete idiot.  I immediately knew who she was, but she didn't recognize me.  She didn't even care to give me a second glance.  I don't blame her; I wouldn't want to know me either.  You’d think meeting your hero, or I guess heroine in this case, would be the greatest thing in the whole world.  It wasn’t even close.

What a funny little thing life is.

Don't start taking pity on me now.  I guarantee that you won't like me.  Hell I don't even like me.

Where are my manners? I haven't properly introduced myself.  The names Weather, Stormy Weather.  Or so it was.  Of course I don't answer to that anymore because most pegasai just call me 'Turbulence'.  It started off as a sleight against my nasty habit of ending up in strong unpredictable crosswinds, and random updrafts and other hazardous whatnots that shouldn't be there while flying.  I used to hate the name, but when you're called something in flight camp that name tends to stick with you for life.  So to cope with it, I started introducing myself as Turbulence to prevent confusion when said pony hears everypony else calling me Turbulence.  What can I say, the name started to grow on me and well… it fit my demure to the T.  Let’s just say I provide 'turbulence' for anypony around me.  Or to put it in layman terms:  I more or less tend to make everypony’s life a bit rougher than it needs to be.  Intentionally or unintentionally.

--=====--

Morning

Welcome to my ordinary life.  My own personal level of Tartarus.  A typical coffee driven, pencil tapping, number crunching day.  I walked in at exactly 7:59.  Not because I'm punctual, because it's a 'I don't want to spend a single moment longer here than I have to' sort of thing.  Beyond getting paid I had no incentive to be here.  Let’s go over my daily routine:

1. Punch in before the clock turns 8:00 or otherwise come in late.

2. Drink free mediocre black coffee.  Refill when necessary.

3. Sit down at desk and loiter, lollygag, or otherwise procrastinate in any way shape or form to avoid step four.

4. Work.

5. Get paid minimum wage.

Simple right?  Wrong, three weeks into the job the boss caught whiff of my unproductively.  Literally. I think he has a sixth sense or something for detecting slackers.  When ever he wasn't making little kids cry or beating up small defenseless creatures (sarcasm), he thinks up of ways to make others miserable and fixing his balding mane.

His name was Mr. Butterball.  Don't let the name fool you, he was about as ill-tempered as a caged minotaur on a hot summer day who was jabbed repeatedly with a burning poking stick then slapped in the face with a fish for good measure.  Needless to say getting on his bad side was not a very good idea.  What really was surprising was how long I've stayed on it and lived to tell the tale, or more importantly, kept my job.  I hate to admit it but I need this job.  Work makes bits, bits buy food, food keeps me alive to go to work.

There’s a bit of a betting pool to see who can make him smile out of kindness or compassion.  I laughed in my coworkers faces and told them they had a better chance at training pigeons to do yoga.  Besides, every time Mr. Butterball smiles a puppy dies and I told them they wouldn't want that kind of burden on their hooves.

They weren't amused and subtlety reminded themselves why they didn't like me.

Great, today was off to a good start.

--=====--

Coffee break.

My favorite time of the day apart from leaving.

Something across the room caught my eye.  Cardboard boxes.  I've been here long enough to know what boxes meant.  Both of them meant good things for me.  I squinted my eyes to get a better look at what happened.  Due to the lack of yelling or sobs of misery I ruled out someone getting fired, leaving only one other possibility.

New guy.  Overly optimistic by the looks of him.  He walked with a gait with a slight bounce in it.  Definitely optimistic.  To any onlooker who took their heads out of their cloudicle they would see me eyeing the enthusiastic guy with a cross scowl on my face while he searched for his work spot.  Due to my history I was conditioned into a natural pessimist, the antithesis of most ponies in Equestria.

I took a long swig from my unsweetened black coffee slowly enjoying its bitterness.  Ironically bitterness was the emotion I emanated most of the time.  Most of my co-workers learned to avoid me, but this poor sod was none the wiser, an easy prey to hunt; a perfect target for demonization, snarks, sarcastic comments, and all the while stealing the ink cartridges from his pens and stamps from his desk drawers.  I rubbed my hooves maliciously together.  Today was going to be a good day.

Mr. Optimistic sat in cloudicle B223; the one right next to mine.  My scowl turned into a stupid grin.  Turns out my old neighbor quit without saying goodbye.  Not that I cared though it does explain why she wasn't here last Friday.  He sat down in the chair confirming my thoughts.  He's my fifth cloudicle buddy this year and its only mid-September.  Correction: Today was going to be a very good day.  New guys meant old pranks were fair game.

--=====--

Lunch

I'd like to point out to you now that I hated myself for doing these kinds of things.  It probably would have made my parents mad if I actually knew them. I only did pranks and stuff to spice up the redundant day of paper pushing.

At lunchtime I decided to pull a prank on Mr. Optimistic.  It was a harmless prank but I instantly regretted it.  The first sign of a prank gone wrong is when the initial reaction isn't surprise.  The second sign is when that initial reaction is the guy having a horrible rash break out on him.  Look, you can't blame me for not knowing that he was allergic to ketchup.

Of course they did blame me and I felt downright awful about it.  I never really liked to hurt pones feelings (often) much less actually cause them harm.  I tried to apologize to the guy and clean up the mess but it was too late.

Mr. Butterball had already heard about it and I was supposed to meet him in his office at the end of the work day.  No more pranks, no more coffee breaks for the rest of the day for me.  Just step number four on the plan and pray to Celestia step five pays off.

--=====--

Meeting

To put it lightly, Mr. Butterball was a bit more than just angry.  I never knew ponies could insert that many profanities in just a few short moments.  I haven’t seen him this upset since the last time 'I' accidently lost all of the Cloudsdale weather teams' applications setting them a whole month behind schedule.  It really wasn't my fault, but of course I have the reputation of being the guy to blame for everypony’s mistakes.  I know it was Hoops who did it, that guy could really hold a grudge.

Anyway, it turns out the new guy,Mr. Optimistic, has a name but I forgot it already, but what was important was he's also Mr. Butterballs nephew.  It came as no surprise to me that he got paid twice as much as I did on opening salary.  Nepotism at its finest right?    Despite my killer headache and ringing ears I could definitely pick out the words "Your" and "Fired" somewhere in the angry stream of cuss words and insults.

Honestly, I knew it was coming; Mr. Butterball was just looking for an excuse to fire my flank.  I just gave him one so hence no more job for me.  Hooray for Turbulence!  Now without a job, friends, or any hope of getting either, I flew home in a storm of angry thoughts and bitter resentments.

--=====--

If there was one thing I learned from being me was how to fly in crappy weather.  It was stormy outside.  Black thunderclouds loomed on the outskirts of Cloudsdale.  Random wind gusts whipped novice flyers around, who were trying to get home before the storm hits.  Me, I was flying straight towards the storm clouds.

Only when I was away from everypony else in the thick of a storm did I feel the closest to happiness.  Most pegasai never had the guts to sleep on thunderclouds for fear of getting electrocuted.  For those who don't know what it feels like to be electrocuted, imagine a long and painful burning sensation coursing through your body.  How would I know? I've been struck by lightning plenty of times.  Now when I get hit it practically tickles.

Bet you ten bits Rainbow Dash never got struck by lightning.  No really, she wouldn’t even think of risking herself in getting struck for fear of ruining her perfect life.  Am I obsessed with Rainbow Dash? Probably. I wouldn’t know what else to call it.  It seems to me that she has everything, and for a guy who has practically nothing that seems pretty great.  Did I win the best young flyer competition?  Did I have great friends who would come and watch me compete in the best young flyer competition?  Did I complete a Sonic Rainboom?  Did I have aspirations to be a Wonderbolt? The answer is no, to all of those.  I have nothing like that.

When you have nothing it makes you appreciate the little things more or something like that.  But I can’t share what I appreciate in life with others.  You can’t walk up to somepony and say “I’m proud that I didn’t kill myself yet!”  No, that’s socially unacceptable and earns you a one-way ticket to the loonybin.  Have I contemplated suicide? Many times but I don’t have the guts to do it.  Besides I like my sarcastic inner dialogue with myself and a pretend audience too much.

They say home is where the heart is.  To me home is where the nearest cloud is.  I couldn’t afford rent so my cloudlord sent me packing.  I don’t trust myself on the ground and since sleeping in clouds instead of residencies is illegal in Cloudsdale airspace, I have to pick clouds formed really high or if I’m lucky, storm clouds.

Today was a lucky day despite being fired.  I landed on a black cloud as softly as I could.  It shot a streak of lightning followed by a low rumble.   This one was perfect.  The static energy made my hair stand on edge, and it felt fantastic.  I settled in for a long nap.  And prayed to Celestia to be just like Rainbow Dash.  After all who wouldn't want to be her?

Who thought that I one day would?  Nopony.  Deliverance from my horrible life came in the form of a letter with a lightning bolt insignia.  Before I get your hopes up, no it wasn't one of those legendary Wonderbolts letters.  It was the next best thing.

~----------~

Disclaimer: I am not Laruen Faust incognito, and henceforth I do not own MLP: Friendship is Magic. I make no claim for Hasbro’s characters or world. I am just a humble fan fiction writer, nothing more.  Please leave your questions, comments, and constructive criticism in the comments below so I can better myself as a writer and enhance your experience as a reader.