DAM!

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Rating: teen
Tags: Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Science Fiction, Random, Human
Length: 2595

Jessica just wants to take photos of her beaver. Then, suddenly, space horses.

Syrup, Beer, Bacon, Hockey. Long ago, Jessica took photographs of her beaver in harmony. Then, everything changed when the space horses attacked.

My entry into Zaponator's Noble Jury "Aliens!" Fic Contest thingy.

Published 2016-09-03 00:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-09-03 00:10:02 UTC

DAM DAM DAM!

It was a nice day for nice people.

A Pacific wind rolled over the emerald droves of Douglas Firs with an invigorating chill. A September sun glimmered off the crystal blue waters of a rippling creek, teaming with trout. Dragonflies buzzed among a carpet of sword ferns while orange-crowned warblers chirped persistently in the distance.

This brought a smile to Jessica's freckled face, among other things. With light-stepping boots, the girl in red-and-black flannel pushed her bicycle off the nearby trail and leaned it up against a faded oak sign painted with the words: “Cowichan River Provincial Park”. With a stealthy hand, she removed the toque from her crown, freeing several golden tresses of blonde hair. Breathing easier in the afternoon glow, Jessica crept towards the creekside... specifically to where a scrappy furry thing was busily gnawing away at the half-eaten base of a birch tree.

The beaver continued its diligent task, scraping its incisors against the white wood pulp of its deciduous prey. At one brief moment, the rodent froze in place, whiskers twitching on either side of a flash of orange teeth, and then it resumed its patient chiseling.

Jessica attempted to contain a girlish giggle. “Go ahead,” she whispered to the autumn air. “Fill your boots.” She reached back to her shoulder satchel, producing a 35mm camera with a large focusing lens. “Don't mind me. Just a Lotus Land bittie trying to grab a friendly photo for the road, eh, bud?”

The beaver said nothing, not that it wanted to otherwise. It just chewed away.

“That's right...” Jessica's emerald eyes flashed as she squatted low in her faded jeans. “That's right...” She licked her pink lips, aiming the camera and focusing in on the moment. “Harvey's makes a hamburger a beautiful thing,” she slurred hypnotically, finger hovering just above the shutter button.

Just then, the beaver's head darted skyward. It let loose a brief, shrill yelp.

Jessica's ears tickled with a distant whistling noise. “... … …?” The blonde's eyes traced the clouds above.

To the east—just above Duncan—something was streaking through the atmosphere and coming in fast. The air behind it rippled with burning smog. The object twirled—glinting in the sun—and it was around that time that Jessica caught the semblance of a shape. And it resembled—

“A horseshoe?” She couldn't recall whether or not she had said that part out loud, for in the ensuing seconds to come—

POWWWWW!

—the object landed several feet behind her, sending gravel and splintery bits of pine sailing skyward.

“Guhhh!” Jessica fell on her rear, cradling her camera to her plaid bosom and hyperventilating. Tussled blonde threads blocked her eyes. So she parted them to see a smoldering crater with the hot red titanium spokes of a gigantic horseshoe stretching towards the sky. Her lips quivered as she attempted to make heads or tails out of the spontaneous, metaphysical event.

She was so heavily engrossed in the moment that she failed to detect the sudden shift in the wind. The air was being sucked towards the impact site—and with blistering force too—which meant...

Crkkkkkk!

“Huh?” Jessica looked over her shoulder, only to see that the half-devoured birch tree was now falling... falling towards her. “Oh sh—!”

She flailed and scrambled to get away, but it was too late. The trunk of the birch tree fell down with monumental force, pinning her to the wet sand and pebbles of the creek's shore. Jessica let loose a pained shriek. She writhed and she quivered... but could not move a single inch. Her lower legs were now being held prisoner to Mother Nature's patient work. When the realization of the absurd situation—and the insane distance to nearest civilization—came to her, she fell into spasming hyperventilation. The only thing that interrupted this sudden panic attack was an eerie hissing sound emanating from where the horse-shoe shaped craft had landed.

With teary green eyes, Jessica looked towards the edge of the crater.

A beam of lavender light opened up. A suited figure shuffled out... crawling on all fours.

Jessica blinked.

The creature wore a thick, glossy space-suit. It rose to the top of the crater's edge, gazing out in all directions. Even from afar, Jessica could hear a concentrated breathing sound that sent shivers up her pained spine.

Light glinted off a bubble-shaped helmet. This headpiece turned and pivoted—until it froze altogether, facing the restrained human down below. There was a muffled sound from within the figure's suit—strangely high-pitched, almost feminine. Was it talking to someone? Jessica watched as it motioned with a stubby limb. Within seconds, five other shapes climbed up the smoldering crest and joined its side, including two that were hovering with the use of miniature rocket-packs. Their tiny little legs dangled adorably beneath them as they surveyed the landscape—or, more specifically—the fallen human in the middle of the landscape.

Jessica held her breath.

Muffled squeaks and murmurs rolled between the suited creatures. In a flash, all of six of them spun around and ran back towards the lavender light emanating from the horse-shoe craft. They disappeared from view.

Jessica held her breath longer.

Finally—all six reappeared. They hurried down the fresh hill formed by the eastern edge of the crater. What's more, they were... pulling something. It looked like nothing more than an actual wooden wagon: an apple cart. There were things inside of it. Black, square-shaped things powered by glowing crystals. Jessica blinked, and it occurred to her that the objects inside the cart resembled speakers—more like guitar amps, really.

Soon, she stopped paying attention to the contents of the cart, for at this point the aliens were upon her and... they were remarkably little. Practically cat-sized. She would have laughed at the absurdity—had her legs not been crushed by a beaver-fallen birch tree.

Soon, the suited quadrupeds arrived. One of them ignited rocket packs, hovering above the scene as it motioned towards the others, directing them around. Once again, Jessica heard muffled, high-pitched exclamations—all breathy and vaguely chipmunkish. As the aliens gathered around her, Jessica watched as they pulled out the speakers one by one and placed them in the soft, muddy earth of the creak.

When that was done, the group faced her as one... and then proceeded to take off their bubble helmets.

Jessica gasped...

...until she saw that they were all pastel-colored horses with enormous eyes. Bright, billowing manes danced in the Pacific air. The one pony in the center—a lavender specimen with a glowing horn—approached her with a friendly smile.

Jessica blinked. “The universe has really cooked it, eh?” she muttered drearily.

A whining, electronic screech filled the air. The speakers between Jessica and the aliens crackled. She caught sight of a microphone levitating in the air, encased in a lavender aura. The leader tapped it several times to the collar of her space-suit, smiled, and then proceeded to whinny, snort, and raspberry into the receiver.

Within seconds, the speakers resonated with a booming digitized translation: “I BEEN TWICE LIGHT FROM ECHO DIGESTION AND WE EJACULATE IN TRANQUILITY!”

The other five horses smiled.

Jessica gazed into the steam from the UFO's landing.

“...What?”

The leader resumed making horse noises and the speakers resumed their loud, cacophonous approximations: “WE BEEN PYGMY HOOVES FROM MULTIPLE STAR BURPS AWAY ABOARD MISSION BELONGING TO HUG ACQUISITION BECAUSE CUDDLE DEFICIENCY GALACTIC CRISIS AVERSION!”

Jessica's freckled face scrunched.

“... … What?”

The blue horse angrily snarled at the lavender one, snorting and whinnying in a raspy breath.

The orange one shoved the blue one away, wheezing in defense of the leader.

A sarcastic breath dribbled from the white horse as it proceeded to fluff its mane, meanwhile casting the local landscape a disparaging look.

The lavender leader snorted loudly, waving its suited hoof for attention. It then shook a speaker, slapped the microphone multiple times, and breathed into the receiver yet again—its violet eyes trained on Jessica.

“WE BEEN REQUIREMENT OF SENTIENT SNUGGLES FOR ECHO DIGESTION CIVILIZATION TO SURVIVE AND WILL YOU RESUPPLY PYGMY HOOVES TREE CREATURE?!”

“Uhhhhh...” Jessica winced, pointing at her lower legs. “I'm not a tree creature. This tree fell on me. Look... uhm...” Her lips quivered. “Could you pull me out from under this? Please?”

For some reason, the leader gasped. It spun to face its companions, flashing a bright grin. “IT. VOMITS. AFFIRMATIVE. MY. PLATONIC. REGULARS!” Its colorful horsefriends whinnied cheerfully.

“No, I didn't say—Hey! I never said that—”

“TRAVERSE FORWARD AND REFILL CUDDLE BANKS TO MAKE GREAT REFORMATION ECHO DIGESTION!” And at the leader's command, the other five galloped forward.

“Dammit! Listen to me!” Jessica frowned, batting away at the tiny cat-sized equines as they rushed in from all sides to nuzzle and hug and cheek-stroke her with gratified whinnying sounds. “Ow! Hey! Quit it! I need help!” She hissed and winced as the pastel limbs grew closer, warmer, and adorablier. “Get off of me, ya sissy horse sooks! Agh! I swear to Christ, I'm gonna hork!”

“RECEPTION THUSLY!” The lavender one gestured poetically into the air. “SOCIAL INTEGRATION IS MAGE BUTTS EVEN FORGING THE CONSTELLATORY SUBDIVISION!”

Jessica was awash in fuzz and giggles and smiles. Just as she was about to scream...

...another object fell from the sky, this time shaped like an ominous black nose-ring.

“FECAL MATTER!” The lavender one shrieked, ducking low.

Another explosion rocked the Cowichan Valley. Crows flew high into the air as a blazing fire erupted from the center of a fresh crater. The half-suited horses spun around and gasped.

Jessica watched as a crimson light pulsated skyward like a pillar. Something large emerged, with bulging red muscles. At first, she thought it was a horned humanoid with a white mane. But the addition of several black limbs confirmed it to be an angry centaur on steroids. Upon first glance of the horse-beings, it flexed its biceps to the hissing air and shouted at the top of its lungs: “RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!”

“FIRM NEGATION!” The lavender leader exclaimed, pointing at the fiend. “TEA WRECKAGE EJACULATES TO DESTROY THE FINAL VESTIGES OF CUDDLE FUEL!” Its horn glowed as it whinnied with extra gusto. “OFFENSIVE FORMATION IN THE TITLE OF SOCIAL NETWORKING MY FEMININE FAMILIARS!”

With a combined shriek, all six horses galloped across the ruined park landscape and attacked the centaur from all sides.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!” the crimson creature roared in response, and proceeded to summon red slicey death beams from its horns. The ensuing battle ripped up grass and trees and littered the countryside with chunks of broken rock.

Jessica winced as the ground shook from the thunder of battle. She yanked and jerked at her legs—but the birch tree refused to budge. Whimpering, she looked every which way—until her eyes fell upon the brown complexion of a furry friend.

The nervous little beaver gazed at her in concern, its whiskers wriggling around its buck teeth.

Swallowing a lump down her throat, Jessica leaned her upper body towards the creature. “Hey, buddy. I'm in trouble. Can you go get help?”

The beaver blinked.

“Go get help, bud!” Jessica pleaded in a whispery tone. Explosions rocked the landscape behind them, showering the babbling creek with hot alien debris. “Quick! As quick as your little paws can take you! Can you do that for me? Eh, bud?”

A tender squeak. The beaver saluted briskly, then spun east and scampered away.

“That's a good little boy!” Jessica smiled in relief, lying prostrate against the creek bed. “I'll be keen on your swift return!”

As more explosions erupted in the background—including a rainbow colored mushroom cloud—the beaver continued its vigilant march east, beady-eyes focused on the wilderness ahead. Soon, the little fellow was diving into Cowichan Bay, then paddling across the waters of Haro Strait.

The beaver ran through forests of pine trees, in and out of tiny trickling creeks. Glacier white mountains stretched tall in the distance as it passed by a sign marked “Summet du Col Rogers.” Undaunted, the rodent spanned a canyon via a massively stretching railroad bridge, then proceeded towards a stretch of verdant hillsides.

Between massive mountains and wide-stretching prairies, the beaver passed by an industrialized city marked with reflective, glinting skyscrapers. In the nearby fairgrounds, cowboys on horseback practiced fancy lasso moves. A few of them glanced curiously at the rodent, only to shrug and resume chatting over lit cigarettes as the vigilant creature continued its loyal scamper eastward.

On flurrying paws, the beaver hugged the right side of a massive highway. Every few miles, a marker sign glinted in the sunlight, featuring a yellow profile set against two illustrated pine trees. At some point along the northerly track, after passing random patches of aspen trees, the beaver crossed a bridge and scampered through a riverside city. The rodent missed the downtown quarter entirely—probably because it blinked. It became vaguely aware of a few ceremonial teepees erected in a nearby field, but continued on its east-bound march, undaunted.

At last, it reached a patch of low-lying landscape where the Red River met with the Assiniboine River. The beaver took one look at the funky architecture of a city located there, fidgeted slightly, then ultimately took a massive detour to the south. Once it had avoided the downtown altogether, it continued its scampering path east, sticking to the highway.

Yawning, the beaver flung the sweat from its eyes and continued scampering across a massively populated sea of concrete. Gigantic skyscrapers stretched overhead, including a five hundred and fifty meter tall tower that overshadowed the downtown district. Zig-zagging through the legs of bustling citizens, the beaver made its way down a flight of stairs, navigated a metro station, and hopped into the first available subway car. It patiently gripped to a support bar as the train cruised along.

Water splashed in the autumn air. The loyal little beaver swam across Governor Bay. At last, it waded ashore and crawled into an open courtyard flanked by buildings of Nineteenth Century Regency style architecture. Upon hearing marching boots, it came to a stop, dribbling with river water.

A phalanx of ceremonial guards in red jackets and bearskin hats approached the rodent, armed with bayoneted semi-automatics. They saluted the beaver.

The beaver saluted back.

The guards pivoted about to face east. The beaver joined them, and soon he was escorted across the parliamentary grounds. At last, past a thatch of trees, the rodent was escorted to a tiny clearing where there stood a two-story brick-laid building of Georgian architecture. It proceeded alone, scampering up the steps, and knocking loudly on the front porch door.

Silence.

With a creak, the door opened. A handsome forty-four year old curly-haired man in a suit-and-tie looked out. His blue-eyed gaze fell upon the beaver.

The beaver looked up, whiskers wriggling.

The man stared.

Eventually, the beaver nodded.

The man nodded back.

After a determined breath, the man opened the cottage door and gestured within. The beaver scampered inside, and the man closed the door behind him.

The record player spun, warbling with the voice of Geddy Lee.

Nimble fingers rolled up a joint, lit it, and handed it over to the beaver.

The beaver sat in a plush chair, eagerly taking a hit.

Sighing, the man rolled his own joint and slumped back in a sofa. Inhaling, he kicked off his shoes, revealing rainbow-striped socks.

“Mmmmmm...” He exhaled, filling the cottage air with more haze as Tom Sawyer hit a major guitar solo. “Fukkin' space horses, eh, bud?”

The beaver nodded.

The man nodded back, coughed, and smiled... before taking another hit.