Every Way The Water Flows

"Hey Balsa! You Ready yet?" Those are the words I wish my father, Head Vice, had never said. Manehattan was nice, but far out of our price range. We simply couldn't stay there. My mother , Marey Jane, was finished packing. "Say, Where exactly are we moving, pops?" I asked hesitantly. I then remembered my belligerent father never responded to questions when he's fully engaged in an activity. He tossed my redord player along with my Rash vinyls into the back of the wagon. At this point I'm sure he broke all but one, Still Image Frames. I had that one in my saddlebag. "You're gonna hate me for this son, but Ponyville is where we're moving."

Ponyville. Yes. That place. I could care less about where we would move half the time but Ponyville? How about no. I'd rather be working at Dodge Junction in the dirt sweeping business than plumbing here.

My name is Balsa Steel, and I'm being forced to the outskirts of a small town.