Bored. Bored was the only word the fillies could think of to describe their situation. They’d tried to think of others; in fact, they’d spent the entire last hour thinking of words that might be better, but in the end, they settled on bored, with a close tie to betrayed and abandoned. Even Sweetie Belle had run out of phrases. Their prison guard, Braeburn, had yet to leave his vigilant post in front of the door, his ever watchful stare making the fillies fur stand on end, posted there by Applejack the Horrible Meany-Face. They’d spent a while coming up with those names too.
“Come on ‘cuz! Can’t we just go out for a little bit?” Applebloom lay upside down on the floor in front of Braeburn’s chair.
“There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you fillies outta my sight! I made a promise to your sis I’d watch ya’ll and I intend to keep it.” He said, stalwart and unwavering. If anything, his eyes became even more intense.
“We’ll just be gone a little while. AJ won’t even notice we’re gone!” Scootaloo butted in “You can even come watch us get our cutie marks as super rodeo ponies! Then you won’t be breaking your promise.”
“No can do, little filly. If ya’ll are ever gonna learn, then you gotta be punished. And if that means I’ve gotta bore you to death so ya’ll don’t put yourselves in danger, then I’ve done my job.” The stallion wouldn’t budge.
“I don’t know what you’re so worried about.” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes as she joined her friends in front of Applebloom’s cousin. “It’s not even a Pinkie Promise.”
“Aw, I’d hate to break a Pinkie Promise.” Scoots added “Otherwise you’d lose a friend’s trust-“
“FOREVER!” The three fillies cried out in surprise and huddled together instinctively. Even Braeburn let out a meek yelp.
“Well hiya everypony!” called the head that had popped its way through the open window.
“Pinkie, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m throwing an It’s-My-First-Rodeo-Ever party tomorrow, and so I thought I’d do a little recon beforehoof. Like a secret agent, but with cupcakes!” Scootaloo shook her head as she, Sweetie Belle, and Applebloom began to untangle themselves from one another, each recovering from their own mini heart attacks.
“Ooh. You four look sooooooooooooooooo bored right now. Even you, Braeburn.” The stallion, despite already being startled by the unexpected intruder, somehow became even more so, a mix of confusion and fear plastered on his face.
“Wait a moment. You’re all playing the sit-inside-the-house-and-do-nothing-for-hours-on-end game. My sisters used to love that game!” the pink mare bounced happily outside, her head bobbing through the window. “Oh no! You’re all doing something! I’ve made you all loose! Sorry, I’ll get out of your manes. Bye!” Just as quickly as the mare had arrived she disappeared.
Braeburn still was dumbfounded. “What…who was….how did she know my name?”
“Don’t question Pinkie Pie. Twilight thought herself into a coma last time she tried.” The white unicorn answered, trying to push the memory back. It had been a simple, run of the mill, It's-one-month-until-cider-season-starts-so-lets-all-eat-chocolate-because-why-not party. Twilight had been enjoying the chocolate covered strawberries when Pinkie entered, walking on the ceiling. Two hours later, and a very frazzled alicorn princess was being rushed to the Ponyville Hospital with a neurological overload. The staff kept the poor mare there a week, even though she insisted on being fine.
“But Pinkie’s right. We’re more bored than a wood pile in a logging station!” Applebloom added. “Hey, my first countryism!”
Finally, the stallion relented. “Well, fine. If that ain’t somethin’ worthy of a good tale, nothin’ is. I bet ya’ll been wond’ring ‘bout my leg. Prepare yourselves, little fillies, for action and adventure like you’ve never heard before! This is the story how I busted it:
" I was just walking ‘round the outskirts of Appleloosa when my sniffle-snuffler picked up a funny smell.”
“A whatta-what now?”
“A sniffle-snuffler. It’s a technical term.” Braeburn said dismissively.
“Since I know my Snuffler Sense’s always right, I followed the scent through the desert for half a day before I reached a camp of Buffalo. But these weren’t any a’ them nice Buffalo folk we made a deal with after the battle of Appleoosa. No, chance of a whale in a gold mine! No, these were bandits! They were twice maybe three times my size, with forty of ‘em down in their little camp. Their headdresses had pegasai feathers in ’em from their victims, and their armor was made of bones, wearin’ pony skulls like some kinda twisted necklace!”
The three fillies cowered together, eyes wide. Scoots tucked her wings in as tight as possible to her body, looking with horror at her feathers.
“But their leader,” Braeburn continued. “He was the worst a’ them all! As big as a house with hooves the size of your face and horns like scythes. Instead of teeth he had big, sharp, fangs, and his eyes burned with fire!”
“But I was not thwarted, no. I stood on my vantage point in the cliffs looking over the camp ‘til I spotted what’d set off my sniffle-snuffler. Those bandits had captured a pie cart, and the pony attached to it.”
“Who was it ‘cuz?” Applebloom cut in, pushing her way out of the filly pile she’d become the center of.
“Well now, that’s just the thing, ain’t it? That trapped pony was your big brother, ‘cuz, caught while bringin’ some surprise apple pies for the rodeo competition winners. He was surrounded and bruised, but alive. Which was better than some of those buffalo fared tryin’ to catch him.” He gave the fillies a devious smile before continuing.
“Now I waited up there for some time, watchin’ their patrols ‘fore I made my move. I used my super sneakin’ skills to slip right down in front a’ the camp, without any a’ them seein’ me. There was this rock ‘bout my size that I hid behind as their guards passed past, then cartwheeled behind them. But I wasn’t outta danger yet, as one a’ them buffalo must ‘a heard me go by, as they started goin’ back an’ searchin’ for somethin’, so I rushed into a tepee. I spun ‘round to make sure the coast was clear inside just as I heard the door flaps a-rustlin’. I jumped outta the way an’ behind some crates a’ contraband.”
Scoots raised a hoof. “Uh, what’s contraband?”
“It means stuff that was taken from the ponies that owned them without asking.” Answered the white dictionary without a hesitation. Her friends all eyed her oddly. “What?”
“As I was sayin’…
“I dove behind the crates, but not before the little buffalo guard saw me. She was just about to call the others, but I jumped out and grabbed her, puttin’ a hoof over her mouth so she couldn’t scream for help. So I said to the little buffalo I said, ‘Listen little buffalo. I got my cousin in you’re here camp, and I intend to get ‘em back.’
Now this buffalo decided she’d be cooperative, and she told me that her tribe had given up tryin’ to fight Big Macintosh, so they got some of their magic buffalo plants, and ground it all up nice an’ fine-like, and chucked it in the fire. When that ground up plant started burnin’, the smoke’d come out as toxic, puttn’ anypony who breathed it into a death-like sleep.
Now I said to this buffalo I said, ‘Now how do you reckon I wake him up then?’
An’ this buffalo, she said, ‘Well, I’m sorry but there ain’t nothin’ you can do. Spell’s gotta hold of him like a squirrel in a bear trap. You ain’t getting’ him up, not ‘til he wakes up on his own, that is.’
So I pondered for a moment. The thought crossed my mind to go an’ carry my ‘cuz out, but even if there was somethin’ round I could pull him away in, I couldn’t rightly lift him in anyway. So I asked the little buffalo, ‘Now how long ‘til that spell wears off?’
And she said, ‘Not ‘til dawn at least.’
That put me in a bit of a predicament.”
“Why’s that ‘cuz?” asked Applebloom.
“Well, you see, I now had a buffalo that knew that I was in their camp, an’ I was tryin’ to rescue their prisoner. If I let her go, she’d alert the guards and I’d be captured too. But I couldn’t just hold onto her all night long, or they’d come lookin’ for her an’ find me. I was done for either way. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless I convinced her to betray them bandits. I had a friend with them nice buffalo by the name a’ Little Strongheart. Together we helped maintain the peace between the buffalo and Appleloosans. Now I told the story a’ the battle of Appleloosa to this little buffalo and how now the tribe lived happily beside us, hopin’ I could sway her to help me.
So I told her, ‘If you help me save my cousin, you’ll be hailed as a hero back in Appleloosa. That tribe a’ super nice buffalo would happily accept you, an’ you could leave this life a’ crime behind.’
The little buffalo sat and thought for a little while, different emotions playin’ some strange game on her face. Then finally, she gave me a little smile an’ said ‘I…I’d like that.’
So she went back out to the bandit camp an’ made it look like nothin’ was wrong, occasionally slippin’ back in to help me before goin’ back out. Sometime late she snuck me into her own tepee so they wouldn’t accidentally find me. And it was there that we….”
Braeburn stopped his story to remember his audience. This wasn't the first time telling his story. Previously, it had been told over a few too many mugs of hard cider to drunkards, eager to hear a good tale. Reciting it as he had done a few times before, he had begun to relate to the fillies about the realm no pony their age should know about. Thankfully, he had caught himself before venturing too far, but that didn't mean he was out of the forest yet.
“You what?” asked the pegasus.
“We…uh…” Braeburn’s mind began to scramble for words. “….um….played…horse hockey?”
“Horse Hockey? In the summer?” The white one asked.
“Um, yes?”
“In the desert?” came his cousin.
“Yeah…”
“And no one saw you, even though you were in the middle of a bandit camp?”
“No.”
“And what about the-“
“Moving on…”he shuffled about on his chair before continuing the tale. “The next mornin’, we…uh, finished our game… an’ put our plan into action.”
“Who won?”
“I uh…. It was a tie.”
“But how was it a-“
“Shut up an’ let me talk!” Braeburn quickly settled himself back down. “Now we were all ready to put our plan into action. All the little buffalo had to do, who’s name was Dusty by the way, was cause a distraction while I got Big Mac up an’ runnin’. As soon as I heard the guards go past, I’d leap out to where they were keepin’ him. Unfortunately, the pies had suffered the worst fate, bein’ the victory dinner of the buffalo that night. Dusty told me that she was sorry they were gone, but did save me a piece. We both agreed it was the best pie we’d ever had.”
“Granny Smith does make the world’s finest apple pie!” Applebloom added.
“That she does, ‘cuz. And it was those pies that helped save your brother. Well, actually, it was the pie tins. Dusty gathered them all up and started throwin’ ‘em down the cliffs, making a right racket. The guards went over to see what all the hoopla was, while I snuck out to where they were keepin’ Big Mac. He was just wakin’ up when I got to him, and I helped him up to his hooves. When I asked him how he was, what do you think he said?” He asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be before they even said it.
The three fillies exchanged glances, huge smiles on their faces.
“EYUP!” they all said in unison, lowering their voices in imitation.
“Actually, no. He didn’t say anythin’. He was still tryin’ to get to grips with wakin’ up in a bandit camp.” The fillies’ smiles deflated into annoyed glares.
“Anyway, so we started runnin’ towards the meetin’ place where Dusty would join up with us as we went back to Appleloosa, but as we turned a corner ‘round the canyon, we saw a horrifyin’ sight! The Chieftain stood right in the middle a’ some kind a’ summoning circle, right where Dusty said we’d meet! Tricky double crossin’ rat! Before Mac an’ I could escape, the Chieftain struck the ground with a hoof, and ten thousand zombie buffalo started crawlin’ up outta the dirt!”
“Zombie buffalo? Don’t be silly, Braeburn.” Scootaloo was clearly unimpressed “Zombies aren’t real.”
“Oh yes they are an’ they started chasin’ us! As we were makin’ a break for Appleloosa, the zombies began catchin’ up with us. One a’ them got a big ol’ bite outta my leg. Sunk his teeth in real deep and broke the bone, but I used my trusty apple-buckers to buckerate the monster off a’ me. But I was lucky. Poor Mac was too slow, and only I made it back to town.”
“And that, little fillies, is how I hurt my leg.”
“Wait, so they…they got Big Mac?” Braeburn’s cousin was clearly distressed, and Sweetie Belle shared her emotion.
“That they did little Applebloom!” The stallion grinned devilishly.
“They couldn’t have!” Sweetie Belle protested.
“I haven’t seen him here, have you?” He didn’t need the filly’s answer to continue. “And now Big Mac walks with the Zombie Herd, endlessly haunting the Buffalo Stomping Grounds! FOREVER!” Braeburn laughed as though an villain would after explaining their evil plan. However, it seemed he would not be able to enjoy his outburst.
“YOU LINE STEALER!” a bubble gum mare screamed as she dropped down from the rafters. “That’s my line, thief!”
The orange pegasus didn’t even flinch at her friend’s random appearance. “So nice of you to join us, Pinkie. Again.”
“Thanks! I was just passing by, when I heard you telling spooky stories, and I thought to myself ‘but wait, shouldn’t ponies tell spooky stories outside at night around a camp fire?’ and since you were doing none of those things I came inside and I noticed that Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were both super scared already so I assumed that it was some really scary story, so I hid up in the roof and I was about to jump down and scare all of you when I heard my line being stolen and that just ruined the surprise.”
The unicorn and earth pony looked at one another and then back at Pinkie. “We… we weren’t scared. We were just… really gettin’ into the story, that’s all…”
“Story? It was a straight up lie! There’s no way that’s how Braeburn hurt his leg!” Scoots yelled at her friends. However, the pink mare intervened before they could get into an argument.
“Oh, AJ told me that story! It was super funny!” Pinkie Pie began to giggle to herself. “He was up hanging decorations when he fell off the ladder and into a stack of barrels! It got stuck so tight that he started running around screaming and bumping into all sorts of things before they finally had to saw it in half to get him out!” the mare chuckled and snorted. The stallion simply grumbled to himself.
“I thought my story was better…”
Author's Note
This story, which really should've taken less than a day to make, based on it's size, took about a week for me to crank out. Why? Because I'm a lazy procrastinator with schoolwork who decided to work on that rather than his story. Everyone knows ponies are much more important than an education with life-changing potential. How could I have forgotten that?
