My Little Griffon: The Red Paw

Excuses

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“It is wise to direct your anger towards problems, not people; to focus your energies on answers, not excuses.” ~William Arthur Ward
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“When you decide to not be lame anymore, give me a call,” Gilda said, finishing her report. She stood still as stone, waiting for the response.

The griffon in front of her, flanked by two stone-still guards and sitting in a lavished throne fit for a king, rubbed the bridge of his beak with two thick golden fingers, his eyes screwed shut. “Gilda,” he began, “You have failed your mission.”

“Sir, there was a problem. The pink one-”

“Shut the fuck up,” the griffon said in his cool and collectively calm voice, “You know there are no excuses. Now, what was your mission?”

“Gain the favor of Rainbow Dash. From there, split them apart to nullify the Elements of Harmony, sir,” Gilda replied.

“What did you accomplish?” The griffon asked, still rubbing the bridge of his beak with his eyes screwed shut.

“Failure, sir.”

“Why?”

“There are no excuses, sir,” Gilda said through a gritted beak.

“What was that?” the griffon paused, becoming as still as the portrait behind him.

“There are no excuses, sir,” Gilda repeated without the anger.

There was silence for a few moments, the griffon stopped his rubbing and sat back in his throne with a sigh. His blood red eyes held no emotion in them, reminiscent to his voice. Aside from the incessant tick-tock of a clock, no sound was beheld in the massive room.

The griffon let out another massive sigh, his eyes never stopping as they slowly moved around the room like two blood red searchlights. “If you were anygriffon else you would be dead Gilda. Only your usefulness in other areas stays my paw from having your life ended in a most unpleasant way. In my infinite mercy to those of import, you are hereby demoted to Special Operations. That is all.”

Gilda saluted, bringing her right paw to her left shoulder and bowing her head. She then straightened up, turned, and left the room. Only after pushing through the two massive golden double doors and letting them slam shut behind her did another soul speak. “So, how’d it go?”

Gilda looked up and locked eyes with a male griffon who stood in front of her with a stupid smile on his face. The two stone faced guards flanking the doors did nothing when Gilda threw a massive punch into the Griffon’s idiot grin, sending him reeling back a few yards. She pounced on him and grabbed him by the throat. “How did it go? HOW DID IT GO!” She roared in his face as his eyes came back into focus.

“Gilda,” the griffon wheezed, his paws on the one strangling him and his legs writhing on the floor, “You’re choking me.” Gilda placed her face in his and let out a growl before letting loose and stepping past him. He coughed and gasped for air, rubbing his neck before getting back on all fours.

“We’re back in Special Operations,” she grumbled as the other griffon caught up.

“Oh,” He paused in step, then caught up with Gilda, their claws clacking on the tiled floors, “Well that isn’t too bad, we’ll be back with the Red Paw in no time. You remember SpecOps,” he was now aside her and nudged her with a wing, “Shit wasn’t bad at all!” at a glare from Gilda, he added, “Though not half as good as with the Red Paw.”

She returned her gaze forwards as the two stalked to the end of the long ludicrously lavished room.

“Sooooo...” The griffon trailed off, placing a wing over her back and pulling himself slightly closer to her.

Gilda brushed his wing off her back, “Go fuck yourself, Clive.”

“Why, that’s a great idea!” Clive exclaimed, “But you know what would make it better? If YOU helped me!”

“Go get a prostitute to help you fuck yourself, pencil dick.” The two halted as the massive doors in front of them swung open, two more stone faced guards flanked either side of the door.

“What type of pencil we talking about here?” Clive smiled and reached his arm around Gilda’s shoulder, receiving a punch to the face. He rubbed his beak and followed after Gilda again, “Like a number nine thousand pencil?”

“No shithead, a pencil that I snapped the fuck in half and was previously used into a stub.”

The two strode on in silence, a few more moments passed and they went through a final set of doors. The duet stepped outside, the smell of night was in the air, a chorus of crickets adding their simple music to the otherwise silent fray. Down a long set of massive steps, the two griffons went.

“You wanna hit a bar?” Clive asked suddenly.

“No shit,” Gilda replied, her annoyed demeanor starting to lessen. She cracked a smile and turned on Clive, grabbing him and planting him with a beak on beak kiss. After the initial shock wore off, Clive kissed back, the two letting their tongues mingle in their partner's mouth. But Gilda pulled away and as suddenly as it was there, it was gone, "That's for cheering me up, you shithead," Gilda said, smiling. She turned and headed off towards the inner city, "Let's hit that bar and grab a few drinks."

Clive pumped the air with a fist, “I’m gettin laid tonight!” He declared to the world.

“Not if you announce it to the whole world, numbnuts,” Gilda threw over her shoulder.

“I’m getting laid tonight,” Clive whispered with enthusiasm as he chased after Gilda into the bar.

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“Fuckin ponies,” Clive muttered, eyeing a few of the creatures sitting in a darkened stall of the bar. The lot had their heads down to avoid attention. Two others, however were among the crowds. Clive took another gulp from his drink, a crazy, seizure-inducing flash of dull reddish lights playing across his features to the tune of equally crazy music.

“Oh shut-up you asswipe, you got to hide in the clouds while I had to socialize with them back in Ponyville,” Gilda shot back half-heartedly, “You would’ve snapped at the piece of shit Pinkie Pie and blown the untouchable rule.”

“You snapped,” Clive took another sip from his slowly draining mug.

“But I didn’t break the untouchable rule,” Gilda's own glass was mostly untouched.

“Well you’re a whore for the rules, no wonder,” Clive said, he turned to the bar, “Hey bartender!”

“And you’re a whore for me,” Gilda combacked, taking a casual sip from her drink with a smug smile.

“Well you can fuck a griffon and get away with it, but you fuck the rules,” He took a swig from his newly filled drink, “You get fucked right back.” Clive got up from his seat and started meandering away.

“Clive, what are you doing?” Gilda asked over the music.

“Ima go talk to the fuckin ponies,” he said with a slight drunken accent. Gilda sighed, but watched as Clive approached the two ponies in the crowd.

“Hey ponies, what brings you to our wonderful kingdom?” He asked.

The two equines eyed him before one with an orange hide and darker orange mane with a cherry cutie mark replied, “That’d be our own damn business, friend.”

This remark elicited a laugh from Clive, he placed his free paw on the orange pony’s shoulder, getting an ugly look. “I’m not your friend cherry-butt,” Clive swayed slightly, “and I think I asked you a question,” his beak formed the next word after a few seconds, “friend.”

“Hey, this’d be a perfect time to mess off bird brain,” the second pony, a unicorn, who was red with a peach mane said. She had a spade as a cutie mark.

The other griffons in the bar had slowly begun to migrate away from the three creatures. The orange pony shrugged off Clive’s paw and the griffon took another drag on his drink.

Gilda had repositioned and was now leaning on one of the support beams just outside the circle of moving griffons. This gave her a better vantage point than from the bar.

Clive rose back, “Woah, looks like we got ourselves a badass here!” Clive laughed at the unicorn’s comment.

With a flick of magic, the unicorn had a switchblade in front of her. With another touch, she flicked the blade open. “Let me put it this way: fuck off now.”

“Woah there nelly, I think you need to take a chill pill,” Clive approached the unicorn and placed his paw on this one’s shoulder as if they were buddies.

“I said fuck off!” the pony slashed at Clive, but even drunk he was faster.

Clive snatched the knife from the air and brought it around to slice a thin line across the pony’s cheek, causing her to flinch back, putting a hoof to the injury. He swung his mug behind him and blindly caught the orange pony in the face. The knife was shortly thereafter planted into the unicorn’s side.

The orange pony looked about ready to charge when Gilda delivered a kick between his rear legs and he collapsed in pain, clutching at his injured anatomy.

Clive threw a kick to the unicorn’s chin and turned to see Gilda pounce on the first pony and wrap her arm around his neck. She yanked his head up sharply. The wet crunch was more felt than heard in the noisy bar, the pony’s body went limp and still.

The knife had gone through one of the unicorn’s lungs and her gasps for air prevented her from being able to focus on her magic. Clive moved around the unicorn and pulled her onto her hind legs. The pony’s hooves went to Clive’s arm as it wrapped around the her throat, cutting off any breathing. After a few moments of the pony pantomiming breathing, her forelegs fell to her sides and her rear legs relaxed. As this second thing happened, her bladder released as well.

Clive held the pony in a death grip for a short while longer to make sure before letting the body fall limply to the ground.

Nothing moved.

Clive walked over to the bar and flipped the bartender a red and golden coin with a red pawprint of a griffon on both sides. “Sorry bout the mess. You know how to use that?” He pointed to the coin that the bartender was staring at with wide eyes, "Just give it to his majesty and all?"

“Uh yeah, sure. N-no problem,” The bartender replied, sweat breaking out across his features. Clive gave him a pat on the shoulder, causing him to flinch.

“There’s a good griffon,” And with that Clive and Gilda turned to leave.

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“Who were those two?” Gilda asked, the music in the bar started up again once the two griffons were a ways away from the bar.

“A side job, those two were undercover drug dealers. That cherry mark was a fake.” They walked in silence for a few moments, “What say we head back to our place?”

Gilda chuckled, she was already feeling like her old self again, “Sure, Clive.”