Tripp and Derek walked out of Tripp’s room. Both holding a can of Mountain Dew in their hand, the two friends walked downstairs. They reached the front door and were about to exit, until Derek spoke up.

“Hold on, dude,” Derek said, opening a second door that stood to their right. walking through the opening, Derek reached the living room, were Tripp’s parents were enjoying their meal at their dinner table.

“Ms. S, Mr. D, you made lunch,” Derek said as he walked towards the dinner table. Standing behind Tripp’s father, he reached over his head and grabbed hold of one of the sandwiches that were on his plate.

“Oh, thanks for asking, Derek,” Tripp’s father said through gritted teeth, accidentally crushing the other sandwich he was holding in his hands. “Great,” he sighed. Grabbing a napkin he had placed beside his plate, Tripp’s father wiped the mayonnaise of his hand.

“This tastes great,” Derek sighed in delight. “You did an amazing job, Mr. D. Here,” he said, placing the half empty can of Mountain Dew on Mr. D’s plate. “You can have my drink. It’s only fair we share.”

“Thank you Derek, that means a lot.” Tripp’s father said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Derek, honey, are you enjoying yourself? It must be pretty scary being all alone for two weeks.” Tripp’s mother said in a concerned tone, taking a bite from her sandwich.

“Is that turkey?” Derek asked, pointing at her sandwich.

“Just take it.” Tripp’s mother rolled her eyes, handing him the sandwich.

“Thank you, darling.” Derek smiled at Tripp’s mother, grabbing hold of her hand and giving it a peck. “You always know how to make my day.”

“Derek,” Tripp’s father said, turning his head.

“Yes Mr. D?” Derek asked, taking a bite from the turkey sandwich.

“Don’t do that again.”

“You got it, Mr. D,” Derek replied. Turing around, he walked back to Tripp. “Let’s go bro, we’ll chill in my backyard. We can even jam in my garage.”

Tripp nodded in agreement. “We’ll have to ask Tim and Dave to come over, see if they want to jam as well.”

He and Derek made their way over to the front door. Saying their goodbyes to Tripp’s parents, the duo opened the front door and left the house.

“Rock hard or go home,” Derek sang, looking at Tripp. “Probably my favorite song from Iron Weasel.”

“Yeah,” Tripp sighed, looking down at the ground. “Too bad the show got canceled.”

The duo crossed the car filled street. Reaching his house, Derek pulled out his keys from his pocket.

“Dude, I’m telling you. I am the best singer ever. I swear on my burrito’s grave.” Derek said as he reached for the door handle.

“You buried your burrito? Why?” Tripp asked, confusion written over his face.

“I dropped it, and felt like giving it a proper burial.” Derek shrugged, pulling down the door handle.

“That’s probably the nicest thing you could have done.” Tripp chuckled.

Derek opened the door and was about to step inside, until a unfamiliar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hello. This must be pretty—what in Celestia’s name?!”

Both looking down, Tripp and Derek were confused to see two dog-sized horses standing in front of them. One of them had a blue mane and a white coat, while the other had a mane which consisted of a mixture of different colors. Her mane had a long vertical purple line running from the front of its head, to the back. There were two other vertical lines running from the front of its head, to the back. These were colored: blond and pink. The horse with the blue mane pointed its hoof at them.

The pink horse actually started talking, in perfect English for crying out loud. After a hearing a few words coming out of the horses’ mouth, the pink horse turned its head to Tripp and Derek.

“I didn’t know you had pets,” Tripp said, looking at Derek with a confused expression.

“Neither did I Tripp, neither did I,” Derek replied, equally as confused as Tripp. “Oh, look,” he said, pointing his finger at the horses. “They’re dead.”

“Are you not curious as to how these horses ended up in your house?” Tripp asked. Bending over, Tripp placed his hand on the white horses’ belly. “Sorry to spoil the fun, but they’re not dead.”

“That’s what my aunt Margaret said to me; when I stepped in an ant nest,” Derek said. “The bites weren’t all that bad, it’s when they got into my underwear things started to get itchy.”

“We need to get these two to a vet, or at least make sure they’re all right,” Tripp said. Reaching for the white horse, he put his hands underneath it and carefully lifted it off the floor. “Be a champ and grab the other one, will you.”

“No dude, you know animals and Derek don’t mix very well.” Derek replied, remembering a said event from his past.

--/--/--/--> <--/--/--/--

“Now, I want you to clean all of these cages. Make sure none of the dogs escape. And be careful, some of them have an attitude,” said the vet to Derek, who nodded as a reply.

“Don’t worry dude, I got this.” Derek said as he watched the vet leave the room. Grabbing a mob and a bucket of water, Derek started mopping the floor. “Mopping, mopping, mopping away. Hey, what’s up little man?” Derek said, putting his mop aside, bending over and waving at a cage that held a very big dog. “You look so sad, here,” he said, opening the cage. “Go have some fun outside, but make sure to be back before it gets dark, okay?”

As a reply, the dog leaped at Derek and landed on top of him.

“Aaaahwhooo! So that’s what he meant with an attitude—hey you aren’t a little man, you’re a little girl. Aaaaah, stop biting! This isn’t what my brain had in mind at all!

--/--/--/--> <--/--/--/--

“Fun fact, dogs don’t like it when you haven’t showered for four days,” Derek said. Looking down, he lifted the pink horse off the floor. Walking inside his living room, he was shocked and—without knowing he was still carrying her, dropped the pink horse.

“Dude, don’t put it on my couch!” Derek exclaimed, seeing Tripp place the white horse on his couch.

“It isn’t your couch, so you have nothing to worry about.” Tripp retorted, placing a pillow underneath the horses’ head.

“Oh, you’re right” Derek replied, completely forgetting what his parents told him before they left.

--/--/--/--> <--/--/--/--

“Now Derek, we are trusting the house to you. Don’t mess this up.” Derek’s father said to his son.

“Hey dad,” Derek said, picking his nose. “Is it possible to touch my brain if I dig deep enough?”

“There’s nothing in there to be touched, son.” Derek’s father replied, patting his son’s shoulder. “Make sure the couch is not touched. It’s your great grandmother’s couch, so be careful” his father warned.

“Thanks dad; and I will,” Derek replied, patting his dad’s shoulder with the hand that had the finger he just picked his nose with. “Take care of mom. I know she doesn’t like flying,” he said, looking at his mom. “And don’t worry mom, there’s an eighty percent chance that nothing will happen to your flight.”

His mother let out a sigh of relief.

“But there is the twenty percent; in which you’ll both die a horrible death,” he said innocently, running to his mom and hugging her tightly. “Make sure to bring a Kangaroo back for me, I want to see how much I can stuff in its bag.”

“There are no Kangaroo’s in France.” His father said, walking out of the living room, soon followed by Derek’s mother.

“Aw man, so there are no crabs in my underwear either?” Derek sighed.

--/--/--/--> <--/--/--/--

“How could I forget that?” Derek questioned himself, picking up the pink horse and placing her on the couch. Stretching his back, Derek yawned and sat down on the couch. “Her fur is so soft,” he said, stroking the pink horses’ coat. “It’s like a bed of flowers, being thrown at you at incredible speed. It doesn’t hurt, only of you open your eyes and mouth.”

“Isn’t that what you did at Jamie-Lee’s party a few months ago?” Tripp asked. Grabbing a wooden chair from Derek’s dining table. Sitting himself down in front of Derek, he continued. “Call me a weirdo, but I don’t recall horses having horns and wings.”

“Actually they’re ponies,” Derek interrupted, pointing his finger at the pink pony. “Horses wouldn’t have fit on the couch. Which reminds me, never try to fit a horse on a couch. It usually ends with a lot of doo doo in your house.”

“How would you know?” Tripp asked, balling his hands to fists and placing them underneath his chin.

“I don’t remember,” Derek replied, stroking his chin. “But it has something to do with me, you, and a banana.”

Tripp shook his head. “We should take them to a vet, or something. I mean; we can’t keep them in your house.”

“Sure we can,” Derek retorted, standing up. “We can teach them how to swim, balance a ball on their nose, and make them carry us on their backs. Just like those dudes at that one show.”

“Derek,” Tripp sighed, rubbing his temples. “Those were seals.”

“They were?” Derek sighed, lowering his head in disappointment. “I always mess them up. They just look alike.”

Tripp shook his head again. Sometimes he wondered if Derek acted this stupid on purpose. But ever since he’d known him, Derek had always been a complete idiot. In kindergarten he always ate the Playdoh burgers they made. In elementary school he would always jump of trees, stating that if he’d believe, he could fly like Peter Pan. Too bad he didn’t remember he needed pixie dust for that, too. And in high school, well let’s just say that teachers were surprised if he’d make it through the first week.

Turning his attention back to the two ponies, Tripp spoke up again. “But what are we supposed to do?” he asked Derek, who shrugged. “We don’t know what to do with them when they wake up.”

“That reminds me,” Derek said, sitting down on the couch. “Did you hear the pink horse talking to us when we entered the house?”

“No,” Tripp replied, blowing away a lock of hair that blocked his view. “Have you been making those weird food combinations again? Because you know what happened the last time you did that.”

“Peanut butter and Jalapeno peppers aren’t a weird combination.” Derek retorted, crossing his arms.

“Right,” Tripp rolled his eyes. “And Chocolate pasta and mustard aren’t either.”

“Exactly,” Derek replied, patting Tripp’s shoulder. “You’re getting it.”

“Derek!”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“‘Kay”

Tripp was tripping out. What were they going to do? What were they supposed to do? How did these ponies even ended up in Derek’s house? All these questions, so little answers.

“Did you know carrots are good for your eyesight?” Derek asked, getting the attention of Tripp.

“Yes?” Tripp replied, a bit unsure as to where this question came from.

“Really?” Derek asked, putting his hand to his head. “So mom and dad were telling the truth!”

Tripp couldn’t help but chuckle at Derek’s innocent, yet stupid attitude. Sure he was dumb, yes. But this is what made him such an awesome friend. Even in the saddest moments of life, he would always be there to cheer Tripp up… even if it was unintentional. Thinking about a solution for their problem, Tripp didn’t notice the pink horse waking up. Fortunately for him, Derek did.

“Hey little bro, how are you?” Derek said in a voice one would ask a dog a question, meaning it was high-pitched and childish.

As a reply, the pink horse began to scream.

“Oh, she’s a little girl,” Derek corrected himself. He turned his head to Tripp. “Can I keep her?”

“…”

Author's Note

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'm currently looking for an editor and a proofreader. If you're interested, please send me a PM.