Chickens and Mallows

Chickens and Mallows

Written by RB101

Chapter Three: Questions and Answers

The hour was now five, the sun making its trek across the horizon, shining its first rays of light onto the Student Accommodation buildings, and one particular house, forever changed by last night's events. I, however, didn't get any sleep, because I had to keep watch of my wounded foot, due to Alex’s act of stupidity upon this moment in time.

I also blame one particular filly for my lack of sleep. Trust me, when an adventurous little pony like Scoot would start asking questions about the world she is now in, they seemed to never end. It started with the whole, ‘where are we?’ kind of attitude, until it trailed to ‘why are you in Liverpool?’ and ‘why are you still in school?’. I gave as many answers as I could, because I don't know everything, do I?

I also asked her how they got to this planet, and she said that she had no clue how or why it happened. Fate has decided to keep the information from us. Maybe it was a botched spell? Possibly foreign magic. Or maybe this is all a hallucination. I highly doubt it's the previous statement, because if it was, they would be gone,  and low and behold they're still here, so I think it may have been a chaotic disaster...

Besides, I enjoyed her company, despite her doing most of the talking, and me doing most of the answering. Occasionally,  I would ask her about Equestria, but that I barely asked, yet she would answer without hesitation. Maybe there is a way to get there. The look on Alex’s when I take us to Ponyville, it would be enough to hang on the wall. Simply put, he would rather be in hell than in Equestria. I asked Scoot about her friends, and as expected she went on about ‘The Coolest Pony in Ponyville’ Rainbow Dash, and her friends. She shared her encounters with Princess Celestia, in which I say “I would love to visit that mare.” A ‘why?’ soon followed. With no other choice, I explained why I like her quite a bit, and now she swears next time she sees her, she'll tell her about me. Why, Scoot, why!?

She's such a mischief, y’know, more bark than bite, or maybe they're equal, I'm not so sure yet. However, so far she's a really chatty one in regards to asking questions. Sweetie Belle on the other hand, I can't really say much about her. I'm gonna have to talk to Alex about how she was last night, and no, not like that. At least I don't have work tomorrow, so that's a plus. I can spend all the time I need looking after these rascals, so all is for sure, good. Nothing bad can happen today, I know that for sure.

Enough of me rambling on, I walked out of my room at around half past four, and whaddayaknow! Alex is still at the computer, now accompanied by the white unicorn aforementioned, jumping up and down on his bed. The cute little smile on her face as she does, wow. Then again, she doesn’t seem to care with the mess that is everywhere in his room. Honestly, his room is a mess.

My inner thoughts are cut like a hot knife and butter (or a sharp knife and flesh), when I am called over. “Hey Brendan, come over here.”

I walk to the teen at the computer. It appears he is looking at the National Health Service (the NHS, how you are such a glorious, but idiotic thing) website about stabs. He points to the text below, and monotonously reads: “Bleeding from small cuts and grazes can be controlled by applying pressure to the cut using a clean, non-fluffy pad (preferably a sterile dressing, if you have one) and by raising the injured body part above the level of the heart, so the bleeding slows down and stops. If it’s your hand or arm, raise it above your head; if it’s a lower limb, lie down and raise it.”

He adds, “If you don’t have a sterile dressing to hand, use your hand, their hand or even a tea towel or t-shirt to slow down the bleeding.”

I begin to walk towards the bathroom before he quickly adds, “However, you should seek medical advice from your GP or NHS walk-in centre if:

the bleeding does not stop after 10 minutes of applying pressure.

the cut is long or deep.”

He turns to me. “Looks like you’re taking a trip to the hospital, my friend.”

Fuck! Of all the things I didn’t want to happen, was to have to go to the hospital, because if we have to go, the fillies will be alone in the house. We don’t really want that, but considering the state of my foot, unable to walk on, I have to go there with him to aid my trip, unless…

“Should we call an ambulance to pick me up? I mean, I can’t really walk, and the fillies alone in this house isn’t a good idea.”

“Ambulances are for emergencies only. This isn’t that bad.” he counters.

Fuck!! Not only do I have to go to the hospital, I have to go there by foot! That defeats the whole purpose of the stabbed wound helping. Thanks Alex. I have to get there somehow, unless…

“How about we call a taxi to take us there?”

“You really think that would be okay? Unless you want our wallets crying at us, then it can’t happen.”

Fuck!!! The University funds is getting us nowhere, I have no other choice but to leave the fillies behind! This Universe is against me today.

“Can’t we just take them with us?” Alex proposes.

“...what? Mate, are you insane!? We can’t just let them walk around in the open, it’s too dangerous…”

“Yes, I am slightly insane. Besides, who says they have to be on the outside…”

~~~

I hobble along the stone cold path, with the support of my roommate to my left, with a bag in tow. This must be one of the smartest ideas ever.

“You may think it’s smart.” Sweetie muffles, “But I think it’s kinda weird. It’s horrendous in here! Disgusting! Repulsive! Atr-”

Scootaloo covers Sweetie’s mouth with her hoof inside of Alex’s bag. “What are you, a dictionary?”

Classic Chicken. It really is. Can't get any better than that, in my opinion.

Sweetie spits Scoot’s hoof from her mouth. “I thought Apple Bloom was the dictionary of the three of us.”

How the fuck did she known what I thought?! I quickly come up with my reasoning.

“No. She’s the Mini Apple.” I tease. “The Chicken and the Mini Marshmallow are in the bag.”

“HEY!!!”

A smug smile soon returns to my face, to show the pleasure of annoying those two fillies. Such a good feeling, seriously it is. You should try it…

...wait. You can't. You don't have little fillies in your house. Good for me, and in a twisted way, Alex. You don't want the responsibility of two young ponies in the hands of a person that can't keep his hot pocket in his hot pockets. That wouldn't end well...