Jones in the the quest for the can of ravioli

The sun shone brightly in the clear sky, birds flew in circles in the air, and the flowers had just started to bloom. But all this was lost on the stallion currently staring wide eyed into his pantry. Behind him was his trash can, filled to the point of toppling with empty cans of ravioli. In the sink bowls had piled up and marinara sauce had crusted onto the inside of them. The floors were covered in dust and cockroaches skittered across the floor.

The sound of a hoof banging against his door shook the stallion from his staring contest with the pantry. "This is the Ponyville police department, open up!" The stallion looked out of his peephole to see the speaker. She was a blue earth pony with a black mane. She held papers in her hoofs and had hoof cuffs on her hip. "I know your in there Jones!" she screamed, "you are being evicted!" Jones trotted away from the door and into the garbage dump that was called his room. After sifting through empty can after empty can, Jones eyes lit up with excitement after locating his piggy bank.

As he heard the officer get ready to buck open his door, Jones kicked open a window and dove into a pile of trash. The officer entered the room with another pony, "look at this place, what a mess," the stallion said, "I let that stallion live in my property and this is how he repays me! I'll have him arrested!"

"He must have gone out the window, hurry we need to follow him." the officer said. The two rushed out of the house as Jones emerged from the pile. A loud growling sound came from Jones's stomach. He slammed the piggy bank onto the floor and watched the small amount of bits scatter across the floor. After collecting them all he set out on his quest to the supermarket.

As Jones walked into the crowded market place the ponies of Ponyville parted around him. Some held there noses, and others stared in open disgust at Jones, But Jones was used to this kind of criticism. The only thing that never judged Jones's bad habits was ravioli. The officers that appeared in front of Jones stopped his thoughts and the moving of his legs.

"Jones," the captain said, "you are wanted for not paying your rent and utterly destroying the property you rented." Jones's eyes flicked around, officers flanked him on all sides now, no where to run. All the market goers looked on in interest, and they gained puzzled expressions when Jones pulled out a bit. He looked at the bit with regret and then eyed the captain of the officers, a unicorn.

Jones launched the bit towards the captain's horn. The piece of metal struck true and the captains magic went haywire. In his magical surge he turned the two officers next to him into olive bushes. The ponies in the market place ran screaming in all directions, giving Jones ample opportunity to flee the circle of officers. His hoofs quickly found the well worn path he was so used to walking and he continued his quest for the ravioli.

In a few short minutes he had reached the supermarket, a square building that was painted a dull blue. Jones obliviously trotted up to the doors, which were held open by door stops. As soon as he entered the building police jumped him and held him down to the ground. "You are under arrest," the officer who knocked on his door said. They slammed hoof-cuffs on Jones and dragged him away from the supermarket.

Jones was thrown into a prisoner cart, there was no escaping the thick iron bars. Jones sat down right as his stomach unleashed a disturbingly loud growl. As he watched the supermarket containing the ravioli slowly shrink into the blurry distance, Jones let out a single tear. Then his eyes narrowed and the gears in his mind started turning. The cart bumped over a rock and Jones noticed they had arrived at the police station.

The trip through the prison was solid grey concrete walls blurring together until the black iron bars of his cell door broke the monotony in Jones head. He was gently pushed into the cell and heard the cell doors clang shut behind him. Time seemed to blur for Jones, thoughts of warm chef boyardees ravioli drifting through his mind. He heard the tell tale clacking of hoof getting closer to his cell and he turned around.

He saw the blue earth pony officer from the beginning of the day walk in-front of his cell with a tray firmly grasped in her mouth. She put it down and slid it through the bars.

"I heard that growl on the way here, you must have been starving." she said.

"Thanks," Jones said as he tore into the food, tossing all manners and politeness to the wind.

There was an uncomfortable moment before the officer spoke up again. "Rats, I forgot to introduce my self, my name is closed case."

Jones looked up at the officer, "what do you want from me?" he asked with food dripping from his muzzle. "What was your deal with ravioli?" closed case asked.

Jones stopped eating and stood up, looked closed case right in the eyes and said, "ravioli is a miracle food, almost nothing can beat its flavor, and the price wont kill your wallet. I devoted my whole life to the way of the ravioli masters, everything came after ravioli in priority. I had to make chef boyardee proud!"

Closed case backed up a little, but then smiled, "i can see this is a topic you are passionate about,"- she looked at the time -"but i have to get back to my shift, talk to you later."

Jones felt something when she left, he had an aching want for social contact. It was strange, he hadn't felt this for a long time. Maybe Jones was on the path to gaining his first friend.

A few days later

Jones was laying back on his cot, bouncing a ball on the wall, when he heard hoof steps approach his cell. As he expected it was none other than closed case, but she had a strange package with her. Jones got off the bed and walked over to the cell door.

"What is that?" Jones asked, "aren't packages not allowed?"

Closed case made a motion to be quiet and quickly passed him the package. She gave Jones a smile and ran off.

Jones shrugged and opened the package, and the contents made him speechless. There was a can of chef boyardees ravioli and a can opener. Jones also noticed a note in the package, and it read 'dear Jones, i know you wanted that ravioli so here you go, hope you don't mind it room temperature.

Jones looked at where closed case had been standing before, and for the first time in a while, Jones smiled.

The end