Boulevard of Broken Fics

by Flufflefic

Rating: mature
Tags: Random, Sad
Length: 2201

A collection of unfinished stories that never got around to being released.

My fic contest! Vote in the comments for which one you want me to finish.
1st chapter: A story based on No Country for old men, different story.
2nd chapter: As Derpy begins to take autism medication, she realizes that her job is not what she thinks it is.
3rd chapter: Nightmare Moon bonds with Chryssi a little. (not intimately, just evil collaboration.) WARNING, #3 MAY TURN OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.
Thank you.
Cover art by Zoetica.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-30 20:40:01 UTC

Unnamed

Warmth. He needed a warm bed and a gun. One you take two steps back from your own life, you'll probably see that that's what we all need, but that's beside the point. With a mad pony chasing him, at this point you run or rot in hell.

Before you can read this poor colts tale, you must know who he is. In the city of Maretropolis, he was a unicorn hit man. You named em', he'd kill em'. He went by the name of Dusk Glimmer, but no one in their right mind called him such a feminine name, for he would reserve that poor pony's name on his hit list. He was known as The Shadow. The pull of a trigger, the slice of a knife, or the dissolving of a powder, he killed for whatever was most appropriate.

However, his life was in grave danger. He took a single job too far, and the pony chasing after him, known only as Charles, was on his ass like flies on honey.

Dusk used his magic to slam the door of a nearby motel open, only to startle the caretaker, who could care less.

"One room, one night," Dusk demanded.

Without looking up from his newspaper, the earth pony responded. "Sixty bits."

"Damn..." Dusk muttered under his breath. He emptied his wallet onto the counter, and found three 20 Bit pieces and shoveled the rest into his wallet.

"Room 237," The caretaker responded. "Have a nice day."

Dusk nodded and proceeded down the hallway. He scanned all of the rooms for anything indicating that there was a room 237. He trotted along until he found his target. Launching himself into the room, he locked the door behind him, and quickly emptied his bag of supplies purchased haphazardly earlier onto the bed. The items were as follows: 1 can of bug spray, a box of toothpicks, a garlic crusher, and a birthday card for his poor wife at home, to whom he missed dearly. Immediately, family came first. After years of neglect due to heroin, ruthless killing, and total detection, his wife still stood at his side. Quickly sketching a picture of himself and her, he signed it and folded it up.

Awoken

“The sun never shined on a cause of greater worth.” - Thomas Paine, describing freedom.

One could think that having autism makes you less smart by default. Others may argue that it makes you more perspective. Nevertheless, it does not hinder your spacial reasoning, nor harm common sense, up to a certain degree. At one level, autism can render social skills a useless mechanic, same going for motor skills and your ability to communicate in general. This story, despite the level of disgust that one may take away from reading this story, this targets not an immediate response, but a gradual descent into insanity, experiencing the opposite of the main character displayed.

                                                                   (-/--)

         The doctor entered the room wielding a clipboard and pen, prepared to wield life-changing information.

         “We can cure it,” He said, getting right to the point. “but it won't be without its own hardships.”

         “You can?” The periwinkle pony said, ignoring the colts second statement. The idea of having her mild autism cured would be great, perhaps even get her a promotion. Oh the thought of it! Having spending money was not a luxury which she had the ability to participate in, to her own embarrassment. Many ponies took pity on her, in addition to her disability. The autism was not immediately noticeable, but the perceptive handicap was visible, in the form of “derped” eyes, as the others teased her for having. This was not only cosmetic, though. Many childhood accidents have been the effect of this, rendering depth perception an experience which she has never had.

         “You will require, in your case, a primary injection and a supplement of pills, which can prove highly addictive further on in life, which may ruin your life. This is nothing to take lightly, and it's effects of improving cognitive function have defined it as a hardcore drug across Equestria, which means that only me and a few other psychologists have the ability to write prescriptions for it. If I abuse it, Celestia forbid, I will be forced to resign my status as a medical practitioner.” The doctor explained.

        “Well, no time like the present to get that injection you talked about, doc!” She said with a carefree tone in her voice. The doctor put up with ponies like this all day, so his refuge was Derpy. She was self aware, and smart, but still a child inside. Like a 12 year old prodigy, of which he has diagnosed no shortage of.

         “Well,” He chuckled, while extracting a menacing red liquid from a vial using his magic. “I suppose you're right.”

         Derpy thrust out her fore-hoof, exposing her front left leg. As the doctor went to sterilize the injection site, he immediately noticed something wrong. The entire length of the skin was pock-marked with little scars.

          The doctor said nothing, but Derpy noticed that he saw this, and explained what it was.

          “As a filly,” She explained in a happy tone, autism masking her emotions. “my parents purchased a series of injections from a traveling salespony. As it turned out, this was not actually a cure, but just a bunch of sugar water. It really hurt.” She said, with her emotions breaking through at the end.

          The doctor nodded, but was still amazed by how many scars she had. Her leg looked worse than that of a heroin addict! He struggled a ‘Oh’ and went back to dressing her injection site.

         “Now this will only hurt a second,” The colt said, a sadistic attempt at calming the mare-child. She looked away and closed her eyes, acting exactly as a filly would, hiding her fear. For a few seconds, he was almost tempted to not inject her, but sense got the best of him, and he proceeded. As he quickly pricked the vein of the pony she yelped, and retracted her arm to inspect the damage, but with a fairly poor reaction time. He topped it off with a band aid, and exited the room, only to return with a bottle of the drug in question; Polymethaline, a plastic methamphetamine that drastically increases cognitive function, and in autistic occasions, helps the brain expand, and increase the amount of useful information received, not just useless vague details.

          He handed it to her and warned her: “Now remember, one pill a day; abuse this, and the consequences will be severe. Am I understood?" He said forcefully.

          “You can count on me, Doc!” She called, walked out of the door, but instead crashing into the doorframe, than carrying out her goal.

          The doctor, who as soon as she crashed into the doorframe, began to have second thoughts. Was it really right to give an autistic pony a dangerous drug? He quickly dismissed the idea, for it was too crazy to actually happen.

                                                  (-/--)

          As soon as she got home, like a present or a toy for a filly, Derpy swallowed one of the pills generously, and flipped onto the ground. He crossed eyes wandered over to the clock, and immediately was set aback by the time; 1:30! She had to do her afternoon rounds at 2:00! She dashed out if the house, stashing her pills in her saddlebags, for lack of any place to put them. As she quickly trotted down to the post office, and when she darted in, only to her surprise, her name was not on her office door. Instead, at her desk, sat postmaster Silverquill, brandishing a pen in his earth pony mouth.

          “What is it, boss?” Derpy enquired. Silverquill began to speak, but was interrupted when some moving ponies began to lift the desk that he sat by, and moved it out the door.

          “We have been quite impressed with your work as of late, and personally, I think you deserve a promotion. I'm moving you to customs, where you will get paid more, and conditions will be better, and your office will be no more, not to imply that you have used it in all of your days here.” The postmaster elaborated. “Customs is held in house, it's in the basement. If you have any questions, direct them to Flashblade, the manager down there. Have fun.” He said, turning the confused pony around, ushering her out, and slamming the door.

ChrysalisxNightmareMoon (No Sex)

          Nightmare Moon walked out of the portal, feeling sleepy and nutritionally deprived. Not uncommon for someone who has been stuck on the moon for 1,000 years. As soon as she stepped out, however, she collapsed under the weight. Chrysalis, who was at the ceremony on lease from her banishment, commanded a few changelings to lift her up, and embarrassingly fly her out of the royal castle, over to her cave, where she would reside (an awfully poor overlook, on behalf of Celestia’s embarrassment of overreaction, thus banning the mare to the moon for 1,000 years.) Nevertheless, not a word was spoken, and they returned to the ‘ChrissiCave’, as Chrysalis overdramatically named it.

          When they arrived at the cave, Chrysalis took the mare with her magic, and dumped her on a conveniently placed couch. Being the center of attention besides the Laz-E-Pony that sat across from it, and the kitchenette in the corner, primarily utilized for heating up soup and ramen, but the couch was the middle of the cave, being the victim of a whole host of incidents.

          “So,” Chrysalis said to break the ice. “Earth gravity treating you like the terrible mare you are?”

          Nightmare Moon struggled to respond, her body feeling light headed from so much oxygen. "Umm, yes?”

          “Don't worry,” Chrysalis said comfortingly. “Were all evil diplomat assassins here,” She gesticulated using a single porous hoof,to the entire crowd of changeling who surrounded her, ready to fulfill her wishes, large or small. “So how was the moon?”

          “Bleak. I swear, if I stayed on that rock for 10 more minutes, I'd meet Cave Johnson in heaven- or wherever he is."

          Chrysalis instructed one of the changelings to get them two Cokes, and a cheese plate.

          “What I want to know,” Chrysalis said fascinated. “Is how you occupied yourself for 1,000 years!”

          The truth was embarrassing, but she admit it, giving in. “Most of it was meditation-”

          Chrysalis cracked up, astounded at the idea, when a changeling screamed from by the kitchenette. Another came running to their master.

          “Johnson *pant* cut off *pant* his entire hoof!” The changeling struggled.

          “Apply pressure and give it 20 minutes. You're a changeling! It will grow back!" The aggravated queen shouted, sending the exhausted changeling back to the kitchenette. “I swear,” Chrysalis said, sounding like a mother apologising for their child. “They are not always like this.”

          "It's quite alright, she said, accepting the half-cut cheese plate and beverage. “Besides this deliciously aged bris, what else did I miss?” The fellow queen enquired, with a mouth full of cheese.

          "Well there is this as-”

          "Watch your language,” Nightmare Moon interrupted. “This is a PG rated fic!”

          "-piring,” Chrysalis said, recovering. “young goody two shoes who is Celestia’s teacher pet, and foils all of my schemes, but yeah, pretty normal. What did I miss on the moon?”

          Unexpectedly, Nightmare Moon snorted, spraying the cave with a foam if soft drink. “What is this cursed elixir?" Nightmare Moon asked stereotypically, intentionally sounding like a baron.

         “Coke. The carbonation causes it to fizz. And rot teeth."

         “I take it that this is an acquired taste then?"

         “You like it or not, most ponies choosing the latter. I love the stuff, I get my changelings to buy me cases of the stuff every week.”