Joe Average Learns a New Word
The Most Wasteful Way To Waste Your Time By Reading A Story
Chapter 1(The only chapter)
Joe Average was an average pony. He was a small colt who went to school every day. He never did anything special, never did anything noteworthy, and he especially never did anything to get in trouble. Today, all of that was going to change... Well, some of it... Let's be honest, he's just getting in trouble.
Anyways, his story begins on a normal Wednesday morning. Joe woke up, ate some breakfast, brushed his teeth, grabbed his backpack, and headed out the door. Living in Ponyville, there was nothing fancy like a bus or even cars in general. This was why Joe was so surprised to find an old, broken-down car sitting in the middle of the road.
Having seen one before when visiting his uncle, he knew that they were typically not supposed to be smoking and bent in such a strange fashion. Trotting apathetically towards the vehicle, he took note of an old, wrinkly pony with strange, purple sunglasses standing slightly behind the car.
As soon as the old pony noticed that he had been noticed, he jumped out from behind the wreckage and started blabbering.
"Eh... Uh, you, uh, here... Don't say it... I got it... It's, uh... PURPLEBOX!"
Confused, Joe started walking away, deciding that the strange stallion was too strange.
Continuing on his way to school, he passed his friend's house, as he always did. Realizing that he had plenty of time to spare, he approached the door and gave it seven swift knocks.
The pony who answered the door, a brown earth pony with a messy mane, ushered Joe inside, closing the door behind him.
Knowing that Joe liked to be early, The stallion sat down and cocked an eyebrow at him. "Somethin' wrong?" He asked.
"Actually," Joe replied, "I wanted to ask you something."
"Yes? What is it?"
"Well, as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car on the side of the path. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and I was wondering if you knew what it meant," Joe explained.
"Well, what's the word?" He asked.
"Purplebox."
As soon as the word left Joe's mouth, the stallion's eyes grew stern. Picking Joe up by the scruff of his neck, he threw him out of his house and locked the doors.
As Joe landed, he landed on one of his hooves awkwardly, effectively spraining it.
After a good thirty minutes of limping to school, he finally arrived. Upon opening the doors, everybody there stared at him. This was understandable, since he was the last pony they ever expected to be late.
"Joe, why are you late? And... Why are you limping?" His teacher asked, sounding a bit panicked at the end.
"Well," Joe began, "as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car on the side of the path. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told the word to my friend, he kicked me out of his house, accidentally spraining my ankle as he did so."
"What was the word?" Asked his teacher.
Joe leaned forwards and whispered in her ear. "Purplebox."
As soon as he saw his teacher's face, he realized he was in trouble. The dark-purple mare grabbed her yardstick and promptly rapped his fetlocks. "Go to the principal's office at once!" She demanded angrily.
Confused, Joe went outside and headed towards the school's office building. Along the way, he was stopped by his friend the gardener.
"Joe? Where are you going?" He asked quizzically. "You've never been sent to the principal's. What's wrong?"
Joe then proceeded to tell his friend the gardener his story.
"Well, as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car on the side of the path. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told the word to my friend, he kicked me out of his house. Then, when I told my teacher, she rapped my fetlocks and sent me to the principal's."
"Well, I don't know of any word that can do that," The gardener began, "but it sure is strange. What's the word?"
"Purplebox." Joe said without hesitation.
Joe pushed the door to the principal's office open and stepped inside. Looking up from his paperwork, the principal's eyes widened in surprise. Standing before him was a small colt with a limp and a mane cut that looked suspiciously like the bushes outside.
"I'm sorry," the principal said rather than apologized. "I don't think we've met before. Who are you and why were you sent to my office?"
"My name is Joe. I was sent here because... I think it's a word I said."
"Ah, don't worry, you probably just didn't realize what the word meant. What was the word?"
Starting to gain some sense, Joe hesitated for a moment. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough sense, and he began his tale.
"Well, as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told my friend, I got kicked out of his house. When I told my teacher, she rapped my knuckles and sent me here. On the way, my friend the gardener asked about it, and when I told him the word, he cut my mane."
Thoroughly confused, the principal raised an eyebrow. "And what is this word?"
Hesitating again, Joe leaned forwards. "Purplebox," He said.
In a rage, the principal threw him out of the office and had him expelled.
Joe was heading home from the school when he met a pony delivering a cart of vegetables. Looking at the small colt, the responsible adult realized that he should be in school.
"Why are you not in school?" The orange cart-mare questioned.
Apparently still not realizing how bad things always ended up, Joe spoke.
"Well, as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told my friend, I got kicked out of his house. When I told my teacher, she rapped my knuckles and sent me to the principal's office. On the way, my friend the gardener asked about it, and when I told him the word, he cut my mane. Upon telling the principal, I got expelled."
Becoming curious, the orange pony asked the obvious. "What's the word?"
"Purplebox."
The orange mare picked up the entire cart and threw it at Joe.
"Mom! I'm home!" Joe called.
Joe's mom walked in frowning.
"Why so early?" she asked. Then she noticed his limp and his mane, the latter of which was cut strangely and had carrots in it.
Thinking that his mother would understand, Joe began his tale.
"As I was heading to school, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told my friend, I got kicked out of his house. When I told the teacher, she rapped my knuckles and sent me to the principal's office. On the way, my friend the gardener asked about it, and when I told him the word, he cut my mane. Then I told the principal and got expelled. On the way here, I told the word to a stranger I shouldn't have spoken to, and she threw a cart of carrots at me."
Worried for her son and extremely angry at those who hurt him, she asked, "What is the word?"
"Purplebox," he replied.
When he said that, his mother didn't do anything to him for a moment except look at him. It was that look that made him feel terrible, as if he had just committed a mortal crime. It was the look of a disappointed mother.
Taking Joe's hoof, she dragged him to her room where his father was sitting at a desk, doing various paperwork.
Sitting him down behind the chair, she walked over to her husband and whispered something in his ear.
Joe's father swiveled in his chair and eyed him. "What is it you wanted to tell me?" He asked calmly.
Joe took a deep breath.
"As I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told my friend, I got kicked out of his house. When I told my teacher, she rapped my knuckles and sent me to the principal's. On the way, my friend the gardener asked about it, and when I told him the word, he cut my mane. When I told the principal, I was expelled. When I told the random stranger I met on the way here, she threw a cart of carrots at me," he explained.
His father leaned forward. "Son, I was in the naval guard for over twenty years, and I've heard all the bad words there are. Whatever it is, ponies shouldn't be reacting this way. I'll sort it out."
"Alright. It was 'Purplebox,'" said Joe.
Joe's parents immediately disowned him.
Joe arrived at the train station later that day. As he stepped up to the ticket booth, the ticket pony realized the state Joe was in.
"Where are your parents?" the pony asked.
"They disowned me," he replied.
"Tell ya what, I'll give you a free ticket if you tell me what's wrong." The ticket pony offered concernedly.
Wanting a free ticket and still not being very smart, Joe complied.
"Well, as I was heading to school earlier, a strange stallion jumped out from behind a broken car. He said a word I don't know the meaning of, and when I told my friend, I got kicked out of his house. When I told my teacher, she rapped my knuckles and sent me to the principal's office. On the way, my friend the gardener asked about it, and when I told him the word, he cut my mane. When I told the principal, he got me expelled. On the way home, I told the word to a stranger I really should not have spoken to, and she threw vegetables at me. When I told the word to my parents, they disowned me. Now I am looking for someplace to go since I've never explored the world before."
By the end of the story, the ticket-selling pony was skeptical. "Really? What's the word?"
Joe braced for what might come. "Purplebox."
The ticket pony handed Joe the ticket and sent him on his way.
Eventually, at the stop the ticket led to, Joe got off of the train. Looking around, he noticed a lot of gryphons and no other ponies. Shrugging, he headed to what all good adventurers should when they first arrive somewhere new; the pub.
Joe walked inside and saw around a dozen gryphons drinking from large mugs. Everyone turned to look at him as soon as he walked in.
Upon reaching the bar, he ordered a large chocolate milk with extra marshmallows.
After a few dozen refills, Joe drunkenly asked for another.
"Sorry," said the bartender who was stereotypically cleaning a glass with a cloth. "I think you've had enough."
"Bud izh nudthadmush..." he complained.
"Alright," the bartender said with a frown. "I'll give you another if you can tell me how you got here."
"Arrright... The stallin widuh car seda wurd. Nd I tuld mafrind, I did. He kikd me an fell..."
After an hour or so of drunken explaining, the bartender, who was good at interpreting drunk-speak, got the story. "So, what was the word?" he asked.
"Purplebox." Came the reply.
Immediately, every head in the tavern turned to him. After a few moments, the tavern owner threw Joe out and onto the street.
Crawling into an alleyway for the night, Joe made a bed from old newspapers and a cardboard box.
Just before going to sleep, the old, wrinkly stallion from the car approached him and spoke in a hushed voice.
"If you want to know how to fix everything, meet me across the street tomorrow."
Nodding vigorously, Joe went to bed.
The next day, Joe woke up and took a moment to remember where he was and why he had a headache. When it all came back to him, he excitedly looked across the street and saw the old stallion waiting for him.
Joe threw the newspapers off of himself and started to run across the street. Finally, after all this time, things might get back to normal.
Just before he reached the other side, a large bus ran him over.
The moral of the story is: Look both ways before you cross the street.
Author's Note
I was thinking of making a funny story, but this one was faster. I made this story when I was tired, so I have no idea how coherent it is. This story was originally told to me by my dad when I was younger.
