Chickens and Mallows

Chickens and Mallows

Written by RB101

Chapter Thirteen: Milos Novaković

“Pick the fucking phone up then!” I start to panic. Milos never really talks to us in urgency, but this is a rare case.

Milos Novaković is someone who was part of our secondary school, but he went off to study in Newcastle. We still talk every now and then, but if he says it's urgent, then it's bad. Milos is normally laid back, chilled, and not really bothered about anything minor, but this means urgency.

Alex picks up the phone and starts talking to him, in Ukrainian, for that. Translations will be given in brackets.

“Привіт?” he picks up. {Hello?}

After a brief gap, he says something again: “Ти жартуєш…” {You are kidding…}

Another interval: “Нас теж.” {We also/Us too}

Another long interval: “Ні лайно…” {No shit}

A brief interval: “Конвенція?” he asks. {Convention?}

An agreement must've been made: “Гаразд. До зустрічі, Милос.” {Okay. See you, Milos.}

He hangs up and turns to us. “Milos is on his way here as we speak, and he says that he's with a mare and and filly too.”

My expression goes blank. “Does he know their names?”

“He says the little one is called AppleBloom, and the older one, AppleJack.”

All the ponies in the room seem excited by the two sisters’ arrival, and I just seem surprised at their coexistence in England. I quickly hijack Alex’s computer, much to his protest, and I look up news in Newcastle. As expected, Milos, AppleBloom and AppleJack is on the front cover as they announce that he's going to the convention in Liverpool. They also write if that me, Alex, and our ponies will oppose them.

Obviously we know the answer to that.  Of course not! Why fight just because we have similar life problems, when we can help each other get through it?

It's the perfect plan. And he's arriving in a few hours too! Let's take the Wirral a storm!!!

...is that too enthusiastic about a bunch of ponies? Well, I can't really tell because of how long I've been with four, so, er, ummm…

...FUCK IT!

The hotel room goes back to its usual state: me using my phone on my bed beside Scoot, Alex on his laptop with Sweetie bouncing beside him, and Rarity and Rainbow chatting on the side. During the hours in which we waited for Milos, I went out and bought myself another Iced Frappe, and it certainly worked me to proper awakening. I went ahead and bought Alex a 7Up, in which he thanked me for. I also managed to do a little research on how Milos’ attitude is in recent years, and from what I could tell, it's the same as from what I remember from secondary school, back in London.

As for why we went our separate ways, that I am not sure of.

After about two hours Milos calls again, and as usual, they speak in Ukrainian again.

Alex picks up and again, “Привіт.” {Hello?}

A brief moment passes, “номер 203, та.” {Number 203, yes.}

From his tone of voice he must be here very soon: “Гаразд. До зустрічі, Милос.” {Okay. See you, Milos.}

He turns to me again, “Give him five minutes.” he says.

So during the little time we had, we managed to beaten up the hotel room, and, believe it or not, after five minutes he arrived.

“Hello once again, Brendan and Oleksandr.” he formally greets. He's wearing a blue pool t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans, and his hair has been grown a bit from last time, which goes to just under his eyes. His hands are in his pockets and he seems to have picked up the Newcastle accent a bit.

I stand there and wave, not wanting to cause a fuss. Alex does the same.

Soon, both AJ and her little sister burst in and immediately start catching up with the other mares and fillies here.

My… fucking… ears. They must've burst ten-fold from the volume of the three fillies. I can't hear myself breathe!

Then again they're young, and they haven't seen each other in seven months. Maybe not young, but teenagers can be very noisy.

So have the older mares, who are now on the floor in the corner, discussing things.

I look around. Not one of the ponies that have been with Milos has said hello to us. Great…

...not fucking recognised, that's the bloody point.

I feel somewhat left out as soon as Alex and Milos start having, yet another conversation in their native language, and I just decided to go back on my phone.

Phone, you are my only friend sometimes…

After about twenty minutes, I decided to check the time, 10:24. The convention starts at around 13:30, so we have a few hours to prepare and get there. It's convenient that the building it's being hosted in is about a five minute walk away.

I'm lost in a realm of deep musing, until a, “Howdy.” wakes me up inside.

I sit up and look at who was greeting me, and AJ is looking up, wondering why I am not fully focused.

“Y'alright there sugarcube? Ye look a bit dazed…”

I shrug it off and hop out of bed, “I should be good. It's normal for me, so don't question it.”

I go to step down, and I almost crush AppleBloom in the process. I felt the fur under my foot, thinking it was the carpet, and went to press down, before I heard a quiet, “Stop it…”

I foot recoiled and I looked down at where my foot had been placed: on her stomach.

...oops.

No wonder she said it quietly…

Wait…

“Be careful, she's sensitive…”

I turn around to shoot a death-threatening glare at the apple mare, who is giving me a smug look.

Scootaloo butt's into our conversation with a smooth line, “Be careful, he's mine…” She turns around and shoots a smug look at AJ, and she gives the same glare I delivered.

I look at the orange pegasus and shoot a quick wink, and I turn back and step down onto the carpet.

“At least the room is cleared up…” I quickly thanked mine and Alex’s work before stumbling over to Alex, who is using the laptop with Milos by his side.

“So, uhhh, being celebrities and all, should we get to the convention early?” I quickly ask the two men, who appear to be occupied by Europa Universalis Four.

Alex looks up at me and then checks the time on his laptop. “Yeah, we could go get something to eat from the McDonald's across the building whilst we're at it too.”

“Not anything too meaty; they're herbivores.” Milos turns around to me.

“That,” I reply, “er, kinds defeats the whole point of going there. McDonald's is a burger restaurant for a reason…”

“It's not really a restaurant, is it?” Alex states.

“It says s- WHY DO WE CARE!? Let's just go.” I quickly burst out.

Milos nods his head, so I gather the ponies up for the trip to the convention, we all gather our belongings, and we depart the hotel, locking our rooms up behind us.