To Court the Sky: The Ballad of Lefty Loopy
Eviction
(The Journey Begins)
Listen, ye, to the tale
Of this odious male;
The despicable Lefty De Loope,
Whose coat color was rust,
And whose mouth only cuss’d,
And whose head and tail always did droop.
Such a black-heart was he,
That no good did he see
Not in even the noblest group.
~
Lefty adjusted the straps, and rolled his hips to make sure his flank pack was secured tightly. The pack was an invention of his own design, giving him a second set of pockets above and beyond his saddlebags, and covering his cutie mark in the process.
He checked the straps keeping his vest snug against his skin, and the knot keeping the bandages beneath it tight.
All was ready.
He took a steadying breath. Then another. He gazed up at the tree which was his current opponent, then he began to climb.
Climbing was typically difficult for a pony. Hooves did not grip well, and they had a tendency to slide even on rough surfaces, but those were just incidental facts to Lefty.
"Hay, Lefty, was your dad a cat, or what?" had been asked of him on more than one occasion. It wasn't just the climbing which prompted it either. Lefty always seemed to prowl or slink, rather than trot or canter. It was not by accident.
Lefty was small for an earth pony, something he would attribute to foalhood illness if asked. Most earth ponies stood a head taller than he. He learned early that he'd never out muscle or out run pretty much any adult earth pony, and without being able to fly or use magic, he was short on advantages.
So he learned to move. He could bob and weave with grace and agility that surprised those who didn't know him. He never assaulted when he could flank, and he never stood ground when he could skirmish.
In short, he fought dirty, and it was just fine by him.
Lefty reached the upper limbs of the tree, and fished in his saddlebag for rope. Rope was important when working this close to a house. Having limbs fall through somepony's roof was a sure-fire way to lose a repeat customer.
Lefty tugged on the rope to make sure the knots were secure. Satisfied, he reached for the cable saw in his flank pack. Hoof saws were all well and good for working on the ground, but a cable saw was light and portable, and the loops minimized the risk of the saw falling to the ground and forcing Lefty to climb down after it.
Lefty fed the saw under the loop of rope and began sawing.
Light and portable the saw may be, but it wasn't exactly efficient.
Lefty began to sweat with the exertion, the foliage of the tree only partially shading Lefty from the hot sun.
Lefty paused his sawing, evaluating his progress. If he cut too deep from the bottom he risked the cable binding under the weight of the limb.
Carefully, he pulled the cable free. He draped himself along the tree and pulled the cable so that the ends were down. This had the advantage of not only giving him stability while sawing through the top of the limb, but also allowing him to put a bit more weight on his strokes. The down side was that his face was right near the breakpoint.
Lefty watched the saw work until he was satisfied that the cut was deep enough, then he tucked his head back out of the way. The last thing he needed were splinters or wood chips flying into his eyes.
Lefty settled into a rhythm, pumping his legs smoothly and evenly to continue cutting.
Left, right, left, right, left, right…
Of course, a couple of pegasi could probably do this in a quarter of the time with an eighth of the care just by one flying up with a regular hoof saw, and one holding the far end of the limb. It would probably take them all of five minutes, and no prep time, which would mean they’d charge next to nothing, and Lefty would be out another job.
Dam bucking pegasi.
Lefty squeezed his eyes shut, trying to derail the train of thought leading to his favorite topic before it distracted him from his work. He was lucky Roanstown wasn’t big enough to warrant it’s own weather team. As mainly an earth pony town, there was plenty to keep him busy. Fixing roofs, painting the water tower, pruning trees, dislodging hornet’s nests… all jobs that they gratefully left to him, allowing those earth ponies to keep their hooves safely on the ground.
That also suited Lefty just fine, and it put food in his stomach, which was the important part after all.
Lefty felt the limb shift. It was getting close. He tried his best not to alter his strokes, keeping them even and smooth. He felt the limb jump at the same time there was a loud CRACK. He poked his head up. The ropes were doing their job, swinging the severed limb away from the cottage, and back toward the tree trunk.
He put away his cable saw, and fished out a small hoof saw. It was too small and light to have been any use in cutting the limb, but it was perfect for cleanup work. Lefty studiously cleaned away any ragged edges of his work, so that only one smooth cut remained.
Lefty nodded to himself. He put away the saw to pull out the last tool for use in the tree. Making sure he was steady on the limb, Lefty cautiously opened the lid on a small jar of tar. He then pulled out a wide strip of wood for use as a brush. There was no sense in using an actual brush with tar. Tar was so difficult to get out of brushes, they might as well be ruined the moment he dipped them. No, the tar was thick enough it could be applied with just this slat.
Left made sure the entire cut surface was covered before closing the jar and returning it to his bag. Then he untied the ends of the rope still secured to the tree, and watched them fall to the ground.
Lefty looked around, satisfied. He’d not worked fast, but he’d be careful and clean. That was important. He checked that his saddlebags and flank pack to make sure they were secured, and began his climb down. No there was nothing left but cleanup and payment. And that suited Lefty just fine.
~
Lefty snarled at nothing in particular as he scrambled to find purchase on the unfinished roof.
“A’right, toss it,” he hollered down.
Almost immediately an end of a rope appeared before him. He snapped it out of the air, and with teeth and hooves he hauled up the tarp attached to the other end.
The rain had come up quickly and unexpectedly, driving away the ponies working building the roof. None of them wanted to be caught trying to walk on rain-slicked rafters. Lefty didn’t particularly want to either, but he would. It was his apparent fearlessness that earned him the nickname ‘Lucky’, or occasionally ‘Loony’, though that one was never said to his face. Not more than once, anyway. He still had the nick in his hoof from the last pony who slipped up.
Lefty untied the rope from around the tarp and began unfolding it. He could feel the wind starting to kick up. It was only going to make this harder.
He tugged the tarp closer the the peak of the roof. If he could get it over the peak, the weight on either side might help keep it in place long enough to get it tied down. Maybe. Lefty pulled the tarp harder. Speed was important if he wanted to get this tarp in place before the rain ruined anything inside the now vulnerable house.
Lefty’s rear hooves slipped on the rafter, sending him down the gap. He lashed out with his forehooves, just barely wrapping them around the rafter before falling to, if not his death, at least his extended hospital stay. He glanced down at the joists of the ‘floor’ below him. Those wouldn’t do his bones any favors. He clenched his teeth. He began to swing his body, trying to build momentum. With one more pull of his legs, he swung, and managed to wrap a rear leg around the rafter. Hastily he pulled himself through the gap and back onto the top of the roof. His heart raced.
Wordlessly he he went back to the tarp, pulling it up over the peak, and unfolding it so it stretched down each side. Slowly the tarp began to unfurl into a strip. Then one side slipped through the gap between rafters. Lefty shook his head, trying to clear some of the rain from his mane and eyes.
He half slid, half walked down the other side of the roof, and pulled a corner of the tarp free. He tied a rope through the eyelet in the corner, and tossed the other end down to the ponies safely on the ground.
“Here, tie this off!”
The sky was darkening. Lefty was focused on his task, but didn’t miss the rumble of thunder echoing through the air. Time was running short. He pulled the other corner free just to spread the tarp enough that this side wouldn’t end up like the other.
He hurried to the other side of the roof, hooves trying to slide out from underneath him. He stopped where the end of the tarp slipped through the gap, and fished it up. Frantically he threw the end of the tarp at an angle trying to make sure it would fall again.
He slipped and skidded back to the other side, and grabbed the edge adjacent to the corner being held by the rope, and tugged it free, following it to the other side of the roof. He tied another rope around the adjacent corner, and tossed it to the ponies below.
Lefty’s sight was consumed in a flash of lighting. He blinked furiously as the thunder rolled over him.
No time. No time left. He hurried to the peak, and grabbed the opposite edge of the tarp. He pulled it along the peak. He had to get the tarp open. Slowly, but inelegantly, it did just that.
Lefty followed the edge down to one of the yet free corners, secured another rope, and tossed it down. One more to go, and they could tighten all the ropes. This end of the roof had wood sheets down, so there was no danger of slipping between rafters, either. It was almost done.
Lefty hurried to the peak. Thunder and lightning shook the house, causing Lefty’s heart to nearly leap out of his chest. His legs spasmed. It was just enough for him to lose traction. He flailed with his legs, but there was nothing to be found as she slid down the side of the roof. He felt splinters lodging themselves in his legs as he fought for purchase. As his rear legs slipped off the edge of the roof, his forelegs found traction. He hung, half off the roof, gasping for air and willing his heart to stop pounding. With excruciating slowness, he pulled himself back onto the roof. He lay on his stomach, forelegs burning, and panting. Lightning and thunder shook the house and air around him. He struggled to his feet, and snatched up the last corner. He threaded the rope through the eyelet, and sent it over the edge. No there was nowhere to go but down. He glanced over to where the ladder was. He’d have to cross the slick tarp to get to it. That was not going to happen. He cursed his lack of forethought. He looked around. Nothing.
“Hey! Bring the ladder over here!” he yelled. The simplest solution was usually the best.
“Sure thing, Loony!” a pony called back.
“M’ name’s LEFTY!” he shouted back, shaking a hoof.
And with that, he slipped and fell off the roof.
~
Lefty drank. The numbing effect of alcohol was, in part, the secret of his success. The pain from the splinters he pulled from his hide, as well as the throb from his bruised ribs dulled to a mere ache under the alcoholic fugue.
“Hay, Lucky, that was a pretty crazy stunt you pulled, hanging off the roof like that.”
Lefty squinted through the dim light of the saloon at the source of the disturbance. Lefty lived by a simple set of rules. Rule number one was he didn’t get bothered by ponies, and ponies didn’t have to wait for their teeth to travel through their digestive tracts. Everypony won that way.
“Name’s Lefty. ‘n wasn’t a stunt,” he grunted. Somepony was looking to swallow some teeth.
“I mean we were all like ‘whoa!’ when you were sliding down the roof. Then you caught the edge, and we were all ‘whoa!’ That was awesome!”
Lefty could feel his blood pressure rising. He gripped his tankard of cider, wondering whether it would be crushed in his hooves, or over this annoyance’s head.
“Heh, that was pretty something, alright. You should have seen it from our spot,” an new voice drawled. “When he finally slipped off the roof, I almost puked, I laughed so hard.”
Ice water flooded lefty’s veins. There was only one type of pony that could so casually use such smug, condescending arrogance.
Lefty turned to the pegasus.
“What do you know about it, featherbrain?” he snarled.
“Hey now, is that any way to talk to Roanstown’s new weather team? I mean, we saw everything from in the clouds. We woulda helped, but we were too busy keeping the worst off you. Though when that lightning made you jump out of your skin, I couldn’t help but let another through. I mean that was just too funny!”
Lefty saw red.
“Funny?” he demanded.
He slipped from his seat, and lurched right up the the smirking pegasus’ face.
“Funny?” he repeated.
“Whacha gonna do about it, chief?”
Lefty wanted to make him swallow the tankard in his hoof, but despite all his rage, he knew he was too drunk to fight a pegasus and win. Even sober he’d have a tough time, their wings giving them an edge in speed and maneuverability, but drunk he didn’t stand a chance.
“I’m gonna go find yer mother and thank her for last night,” Lefty drawled, turning back to the bar, “and while I’m there I’ll let her know you didn’t get spanked enough as a foal.”.
“Huh,” the pegasus grunted. “I’d heard Roanstown was a clean place, but here I see all this trash on the stree-”
Lefty swung.
~
Lefty’s first mistake was trying to move.
“Ooooh,” he groaned as his head began to throb.
Lefty’s second mistake was trying to open his eyes.
“Aw buck,” he swore, covering his eyes with his hooves, trying to block out the cursed light.
“Sounds like somepony’s awake.”
Lefty risked a look toward the voice.
“Uh… hey, Sheriff,” he said uncertainly.
The pony in question slowly came into focus, only partially obscured by the iron bars.
Bars? There were bars?
Lefty looked around uncertainly. Yes, there were definitely bars. He was in a cell.
“Uh… Sheriff?”
“Easy, Lefty,” the sheriff assured him. “You’re not really under arrest, you’re just in the drunk tank. O’course, you could be under arrest if the new weather team decides to press charges, but that’s for another time.”
“Weather team?” Lefty asked shakily. “Aw, buck. The pegasi.”
“That’s right, the pegasi. You cracked one in the head pretty hard.”
“Uh… oh.”
“You didn’t do yerself any favors today, Lefty,” the Sheriff continued. “You ain't much on makin’ friends at the best of times, and with pegasi in town, you’re little highwire act is gonna start looking pretty second rate. You could use friends right about now, Lefty.”
Lefty said nothing. There was nothing to be said. The Sheriff was right.
The Sheriff looked at him expectantly.
“If’n I ain’t under arrest, can I go now, Sheriff?” he asked.
The Sheriff shook his head, but opened the door to the cell.
“You’ve got the biggest chip on your shoulder of anypony I’ve ever seen, Lefty,” the Sheriff told him. “Yer smart, ya work hard, and yer quick on her feet. If’n it weren’t for that attitude, I’d’ve made you a deputy months ago. Now it’s too late fer that.”
“You’re right, Sheriff,” Lefty said, heading for the door. “It’s too late. Too late for me as usual.”
~
Lefty made one last circuit around his shack, checking one last time for anything of particular value. Lefty was not one to collect keepsakes. The only thing he valued were the tools, some of which he’d made himself.
Satisfied, but a little regretful, Lefty set down a burning lantern in the center of his shack and exited. He surveyed the small building. It wasn’t much, anypony with actual carpentry skill probably cringed whenever they saw it, but it was his, built with his own hooves. He looked through the door one last time at the bed, workbench, and oil lantern which had been his only light.
He searched the ground for a rock. Finding one he hefted in his hooves, testing its weight. It was a dull grey craggy thing, full of angles, and it bore a coarse abrasive surface. When Lefty looked closely, he could see striations hidden in the dull muddy color, He stared at it for a moment more, trying to memorize every detail. Then, with a grunt, he hurled it at the lantern. The lantern shattered spectacularly, throwing oil all across the floor of Lefty’s small shed, oil which was quickly followed by flame.
Lefty checked his rump pack, his saddlebags, his bandages and his vest. Satisfied that everything was in place, he walked to the road and headed out of town, leaving the structure burning behind him.
~
Lefty wandered the land,
struggling to understand
how could no one have need of his nerve.
Lefty cussed and he swore,
(often then shown the door)
finding what he so often deserved.
Lefty struggled along,
alone, deaf to love’s song.
Indeed, life had now thrown him a curve.