FNAP: Featherweight's story

Bulk Biceps sat in the front room of his small yet roomy home, doing what he always did at two in the afternoon. Lifting weights while watching his all time reality show, Ultimate Treasure Hunter. The show was simple enough. A group of twenty four ponies, a mix of unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies, volunteered to live for three months in some exotic location. Split into four teams and preforming various tasks they strode to find the next clue to finding the treasure at the end the trial. At the end of the week, one treasure hunter was voted off by their team mates, making it a game of wits, tricks, and short alliances. His bet was on any pony who could bench press three fifty plus.

Featherweight burst into the room, eyes bright, and mouth nearly watering with excitement. “I’ve got it!”

Bulk glanced over, doing his seventy third curl of the forty pound dumbbell. “Got what?”

“The scoop of a lifetime!” The younger pegasus grinned.

There was silence for a few moments save for the show going to a commercial as Bulk completed more curls.

Bulk blinked, as if realizing something. “I’m suppose to ask you, aren’t I?”

Featherweight nodded so fast, that he looked like one of those cheap bobble dolls that Bulk always saw in the half a bit bins whenever he went to Weightlifter’s Paradise.

Bulk did a few more curls, hitting the off button on the remote, and stood up. Something told him this would take a while, and when his brother had idea, he required Bulks complete attention. Featherweight would complain otherwise. After a moment of stretching, he felt twelve pleasurable, almost painful, pops run up his spin, before sighing happily. Making his way to the kitchen, the smaller, scrawnier pegasi followed him, dancing in place with glee. Bulk got out the protein powder, and started making his post workout milkshake.

“Okay, go ahead.” He sighed. “What’s the new story thing?”

“It’s called a scoop.” Featherweight corrected instinctively, “And you’re going to be floored by this!”

Bulk didn’t understand what was so exciting about writing about rumors and gossip of the town. It didn’t make sense why ponies would want to read that. Now weight lifting on the other hoof, that he could understand. History, sports, physical strain, and over coming trials of any kind, that he could appreciate. He mixed up his shake, forcing the young pony to keep quite while the blender whirled to life. Now with shake in hoof, Bulk turned around, and leaned on the counter, taking a sip from the ‘elixir of life’.

“Okay Featherweight, I’m all ears.” Bulk took another sip, waiting for the onslaught of words he knew would come from his little brother.

“There’s a rumor about the Pizzeria!” When Bulk did little more than take another sip of his shake, the scrawny pegasi added. “About the anamatronics!”

Bulk paused, with his glass half raised. “Ana-what?”

Feather rolled his eyes. “An-a-ma-tron-ics. You know, they’re like big metal stuffed animals that move, talk, sing, and dance!” Taking in a short breath, he rushed on to explain, “The rumor is the anamatronics are haunted, and dangerous. They say six years six colts and fillies disappeared and the only thing the Guard could find in common was the last place they were seen was at the Pizzeria! They say their ghosts live in the anamtronics, and I’m going to find out if it’s true!”

Bulk took another sip, thinking that over. Then, he held out the shake. “Take a drink.” He offered. “It sounds like you’ve been in the sun for a little too long.”

Feather stomped a hoof. “You’re not listening to me, are you!”

“I heard you.” Bulk replied, shaking his head. “Kid, you got to get your head out of the clouds, and your hooves on the ground. They’re no such things as ghosts or hauntings.”

“But we live on a cloud!” Feather wailed, very unhappy at his brother’s reaction. This was the story of a century, no, of the MILLENNIA! How could Bulk just brush it off?

Bulk did his little side nod that he did when a point was make. “True, but still, there’s no such thing a ghosts, and even if all that was true, no one would want to read it. Find a real story to write about, like how Huge McLiftens is coming to town next week for a seminar on proper lifting form.” The muscle pony took another sip of his shake. “I bet ponies would eat that up.”

“No one cares about weightlifting seminars!” Featherweight pouted. “And you just want me to write that so you can get more ponies to join your gym.”

“Guilty.” Bulk smiled.

Silence once again overtook the two as Bulk enjoyed his shake and Featherweight sulked. Bulk watched his little brother, who seemed very much deflated of his former excitement. He rolled his eyes, asking why he had such a difficult brother to look after.

“I’ll tell you what kid.” He began, breaking the silence. “Let’s find some middle ground on this.”

Feather looked up, moodily snorting.

“Why don’t you do a story on the history of the Pizzeria? Then you can dig around to your little hearts content. You’ll be looking at what’s actually there, and not chasing rumors. A good historical piece never heart any pony, and who knows, if well written, you might get noticed.”

Featherweight molded that over, as if tasting it and deciding if it was good or not. “Can we go there so I can talk to the employees, and maybe get an interview with Pinkie herself?”

“Sure.” Bulk shrugged. “I’ll even make a call and set up a short interview, as long as you behave and don’t ask exotic questions.”

The little pegasus raised an eyebrow. “You’ll make the call?”

Bulk looked hurt. “Featherweight. I’d like you to know I’m on good terms with Pinkie Pie. I’ve bought cupcakes from her when she was just an assistant baker at Sugarcube Corner, and I was friends with two of her friends way back in jr. flight camp. She knows me, and if I tell her my little brother’s writing an article about her pizzeria I’m sure she’ll be more that happy to have a short interview with you.”

Featherweight's eyes brighten. “I could work with this!”

“Good.” Bulk held out the shake. “Now drink some. Seriously, you’ve got to start training. You’re so skinny, I’d swear you’re just fur and bones.”