It was a long way to go and a short time to get there. They said it couldn’t be done.
No one was quite sure who “they” were. Maybe the Germans.
Schwoz Swartz was the nearest available German, but it wasn’t him because he was fully committed to the roadtrip.
However, despite his reservations. He peered over the steering wheel and rubbed his hand over his bald head. “Ah, I do not think this is the correct route.”
“You’re probably right,” replied Charlotte Page from the passenger seat. “The David Lee Roth memorial bridge was out, but you decided to jump it anyway.” She shook her head, dreadlocks bouncing. “I have no idea where we are now. This definitely isn’t Swellview. It’s like we landed in another world. For the record, I’m impressed that this truck could jump at all.”
The eighteen-wheeler was lightly loaded with only a thousand hot dogs in the back, but it was still a huge vehicle.
“Now could you pull over?” Charlotte said. Her voice rapidly rose. “Your pig ate my arm!”
“Ah, she did not mean it.” Schwoz patted the pig on the head, just behind her red bow.
“My arm is literally inside your pig!” Charlotte screamed at him, her right sleeve flapping emptily. She started to hit him with her left arm. “Pull over, Schwoz!”
“Nein! We are on a roadtrip, you must use our cool nicknames!”
Charlotte only got angrier, but shouted, “Pull over, Fuzzy Lady!”
“Ja, Wet Noodle!”
He brought the truck to a halt on the side of the road. It wasn’t really a road, more of a dirt path between trees, and narrow enough that there wasn’t really a side on which to pull over. While Charlotte chased the pig, who had escaped the truck when they got out, Schwoz checked over the truck, especially the cargo in the back.
There were several crates of Texas wieners in the trailer. They had been paid four dollars to transport the thousand hot dogs back to Big Dingus for the birthday party of his son, Little Dingus. A thousand hot dogs would have fit in the trunk of a car, but Schwoz loved his truck and drove it whenever he could. He’d even spent several thousand dollars to have a mural of a reclining horse painted on the trailer. She had a sandy-orange and lighter blonde mane and wore a rather seductive look. For a horse.
He also took care to ensure the boxes were correctly labeled. Not that the Dinguses would know the difference between wiener with weiner. Hot dogs did not have much to do with a certain former New York representative. Er, literally speaking.
Meanwhile, Charlotte was still trying to catch the pig, made all the harder by her missing arm. As she rounded the truck again, a voice called out. “Hey kid.”
Against her better judgement, she paused and looked around.
“Hey.”
Charlotte looked up. The horse painted on the side of the trailer winked at her.
“Schwoz!” Charlotte called.
“Who?” he called back, voice playful.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Fuzzy Lady!”
He walked over. “What is it, Wet Noodle?”
“This mural just moved.” She pointed.
“What’s the problem? You move all the time,” the horse replied.
“Well, that’s new,” Schwoz replied.
“I honestly wouldn’t have put it past you for this to be a feature,” Charlotte remarked.
The horse propped herself up on the purple silk sheets on which she lay. “Well, this whole sentinece thing is new for me, too.”
“Sapience,” Schwoz said.
“How would you know? English isn’t your first language,” Charlotte replied.
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I do have some questions,” said the horse. “Like who’s that over there?” She pointed.
On the other side of the road, hovering above the trees, was a blue horse. Well, smaller than that. Certainly much smaller than the supersized horse painted on the trailer.
“So, uh...who are you and why do you have porn of our local apple farmer?” the newcomer asked.
“Oh, if you think this is sexy, you should see what’s painted on the other side of the trailer,” said the painting.
“I don’t know, that’s still pretty lewd. I’m gonna have lewd thoughts about that,” said the blue flying equine. She started to turn away. “You probably shouldn’t go anywhere near Ponyville.” She flew away, shaking her head.
Breaking away from the temporary distraction, Charlotte looked around. “Where did that pig go?”
“That way,” Schwoz pointed. “The same way that blue pegasus told us not to go.”
“Pegasus?”
“You know, the common name for winged horses.”
“It was blue.”
“I’m acrylic, but I’m still a horse,” the mural offered.
Deciding that after all that had happened, her arm was still priority, Charlotte took off after the pig. “Let’s go.” Schwoz shrugged and followed her in the truck. They headed straight for Ponyville.
“Isn’t this the direction we weren’t supposed to go?” asked the mural.
Schwoz leaned out the window. “You’re a painting, what is it that you know?”
“And stop posing even more lewd!” Charlotte shouted.
The mural horse rolled over and did not quit. “Paint me like one of your French ponies.”
Approaching the distant town, they met the blue pegasus again, who was hurrying along another pony who wore a cowboy hat.
“See, I told you someone made porn of you.”
“That ain’t…” the other pony trailed off, shook her head, and began again. “It clearly ain’t me.”
“A little presumptuous, don’t you think? How do you know?” the mural asked.
“Also, it talks. I ain’t never consented to no magic picture.”
“But you did pose like that at least once?”
“Did somepony say magic?” asked a purple unicorn, trotting up. She cast a worried glance at Charlotte, who had caught the pig and was currently wrestling with it.
“I am also interested in the magics,” said Schwoz, stepping down from the truck.
“And I’m interested in who you guys are,” said a pink pony just then, appearing from under the hat of the other one. She shook Schwoz’s hand. “Wow, new faces. I didn’t think I’d be throwing an extraterrestrial party today.”
“I love parties,” said the mural.
“Hush, you’re paint,” Schwoz replied.
“Wow, I’ve never seen a talking burlesque painting of Applejack before.” The pink pony bounced over. “What’s your name, cutie?”
“Well, as somebody keeps pointing out, I’m not real, so I don’t have one,” the mural replied.
“How about ‘Murial?’”
“Works for me.”
“Great, now to party.”
“We did have somewhere to be,” Schwoz said. He shrugged. “But perhaps the real journey is new friends we make along the way.”
“Schwoz, get over here and help me kill this pig!”
“I apologize for my friend’s rudeness. Can I offer you all a nice hot dog?”
“What’s a hot dog?” asked the purple unicorn.
With the air of a showman, Schwoz strolled to the back of the truck, opening the door to reveal one thousand Texas Wieners.
The ponies ooh’d and ah’d, even if they apparently didn’t know what they were looking at.
Schwoz did a grand gesture and smiled. “Wieners are for everyone.”
