Monik's Ponyville Adventures

Last night . . .

Like every night, Monik was in the Cold Calf, a bar right outside Klugetown. It's the last place where laws really matter. The last place officers of the law matter. Anything after is fair game. With such a crime rate and trafficking, why wouldn't a journalist aim to go there every day or so to write a story about the worst things they've seen? Monik was that journalist. But, something changed, it wasn't overnight or anything. Simply put, people stopped buying the papers. Not a lot of people were interested in the day to day crime in Klugetown.

Monik was in the bar, sitting at a table, marks were carved into the wood, no doubt people were playing pinfinger or something.

"You see, Monik, you're a good kitten . . . but even you have to admit . . . crime is spreading all over the ffffff-freakin' place!" Penci said. Penci was a fellow journalist, though he hit the wall years ago. He hung up his pen and paper last year from the same paper Monik wrote for and started his own company. But, Penci's often quick to accept an invitation to grab a drink with Monik. He's a bit of a freeloader, usually drop-dead drunk and "forgot" his wallet more than half of the times they've gone out for a drink.

"I know that, but . . ." Monik quickly had a claw risen to his mouth.

"Hush, hush, hush, hush . . ." Penci said. "Listen. To. Me . . ." he pulled Monik by the shirt. "Get out there!" he said, louder than he should have. A bartender gave them a glare, a glare you could tell was a "warning".

"Look, Penci . . . buddy . . ." Monik pat Penci's head. "I'm all good where I am." He said. "So what if I . . . uh . . . run into some financial issues." He said. "It all went to hell when Storm King lost, remember?" he chuckled. "Klugetown is still the most dangerous place. We're still nowhere near their danger."

Penci sighed and looked down at his drink. ". . . Maybe you're right . . . like always, Monik . . ." he sipped his drink.

"I'll be back, have to visit the little kitty's room," Monik said as he left the drinking area and entered a small room, three doors faced him. One read employees only the other two were bathroom doors. He went into the bathroom and not even two minutes passed and he returned to the table to find Penci passed out. "Again?"

"Happen often?" a voice emerged. "Does your friend often face-plant into the table?"

"Huh?" Monik jerked his head back to find the source of the voice and only found a cloaked figure. "Uh . . . yes . . . he does."

"Hehe, he really hit that table hard." The figure laughed a bit, it was maniacal, but also not evil. Monik would know if he was, from "dirty cops" to "traders", he has busted them all thanks to his prowess in the written language. "Who are you?"

"Oh let's just say I heard of your . . . predicament." The figure tapped its chin. From voice alone, Moink could determine the creature was male but, other than that it's out in the air. He's never seen anything like him. The fact it could talk gave away it's lived among creatures with that ability, so it's not likely a new discovery he hasn't heard of. "And I'd like to propose a proposition . . ." that sentence jerked Monik back to reality.

"A-A proposition?" Monik stuttered a bit. "If you're some scout I'm already taken," he said proudly. "By the best paper in town."

"Says who?" the figure said, Monik could tell the creature was smirking under the hood. "Anyone can say that. It may be true . . . but who's to say a change in scenery wouldn't do you some good!"

"Uh . . ." Monik didn't know how to respond. The more the creature talked, the more it just sounded like was waiting for its moment to try and hire him. "What kind of proposition?"

"Well . . . you see there's this school of friendship . . ."

Monik was packing his things, shirts, pants, all the normal things for walking, talking cats to be carrying with them. It soon struck him that what he was doing is not smart. Even though he's making peanuts thanks to people not buying the paper, he's at least living. "Should I really do this?" he mumbled to himself, folding a gray and purple sweater and setting it into the bag. The moments of the night rang in the back of his mind.

It wasn't a bad idea, maybe that's why Monik's giving it a try . . . or maybe he's just sick and tired of the same routine. Either way, it was worth a shot. The worst that could happen is a simple no. To some extent, he's not even sure how this creature knows the school's owner. Nevertheless, Monik made his way to the door, staring back at the place he called home. He took a deep breath. "This is it . . ." he mumbled. "A new life awaits . . ." he mumbled and made quick glances across the room. "Goodbye, old friend." He then closed the door and handed the key to his landlord.

"See you again soon, honey." said his landlord, her voice was extremely raspy.

"Not likely." Monik retorted and waved as he left on his way to his new home.

He made one last glance back at the dusty lands of Black Cove. He then held his head high and walked forward. "This is it . . ." he told himself again and again. "I'm leaving my home for greener pastures." He said, feeling the hot sand on his pads. "I hope this trip isn't going to be a waste . . ." he held his head high but, this would be the furthest he had ever been from home. "Get ready Ponyville . . . here I come."