Chapters Finally my wish came true...Buck!
Chapter One: Finally, my wish came true…crap
It’s not easy being the middle child of the family. Especially when you’re taller than both your parents and siblings. My name is Alex, and I'm an average brony. Nothing special other than my beliefs and thoughts. I’m about 5’ 10” tall with dark, milky brown hair and have misty blue eyes that have a direct link to my… inner self. I’m nearsighted and have to wear glasses. I hate contacts.
“Ugh,” I grumble to myself as I step from the school bus onto the driveway of my house, “Last time I eat school meatloaf.” I follow my two sisters up the driveway and into our house.
The first thing my younger sister Shauna did, was throw all her stuff onto the floor and collapse on the couch lazily. My older sister Kaila, being the more responsible of them, went straight to her room and then proceeded to litter her floor with school junk.
I did the same as Kaila and put my stuff in my room. It filled with dirty clothes and old stuff from when I was a kid. “Man is I glad it’s Friday,” I exclaim as I stretched my arms, “I wonder what True is up to?”
True is my brony friend and possibly like an older brother to me. He is about a few inches shorter than me, and has dirty blond hair.
As I made my way to the computer I pulled out my phone and texted him to see if he was home. He was actually already on skype when I signed in and called me immediately.
“Oh hey bro,” said True, his voice well and clear.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Nothing really, just working on the Tube, tiring to get my demo reel together.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Hey Alex, you got your things ready for the weekend right?
"Uhh…Oh, obviously!” I said, sarcasm well in my voice”…one sec”
“Yeah I thought so. Look, I’ll clean up around the house, you do your thing. We’ll catch up afterwards.”
“Alright man, see you then”
“Ok man”
I ended the call with Alex and stretched. Clothes and trash lightly littered my room. It wasn’t a room as much as it was a large closet, so there wasn’t much to dirty up. I picked up the few clothes, threw away the trash, and made my bed. A pink picture of Fluttershy was hanging above my bed. I think it’s utterly ironic that a guy, who has stacks of book on weapons, guns, and war and extensive knowledge on firing weapons, enjoys watching a show about small, colorful, ponies. Not that I would hide it either, it’s just most people aren’t bronies in the South, so it’s an assumption that I don’t like MLP. But I’ve met a few bronies at my collage, and most people say,”Wow! Really? Yow watch WHAT?” Then it becomes a “well you never asked…” moment.
After some time, I hear my house’s front door open. I knew Alex was coming by, but not this early. I walked into the living room area of my small trailer, a loaded weapon in my hand. When you live where I live, you tend to keep prepared. That’s something you learn in Boy Scouts. I open fired at the silhouette barging in my home.
“Good to know you knock, douche.”
A chuckle escaped his mouth, “Hey true, good to see you man.”
Alex stepped in, tall and skinny, taking off the Nerf darts that attached to his head. I swear I’ve never seen some one with such a lack of body mass. His unkempt brown hair seemed shaggier than usual.
“Nonchalant as ever, I see. You know if this was my Glock you’d be dead. Well, come in, have a seat, fatass.”
Alex was younger than I, and at times, ignorant as hell. We had complemented each other’s attributes however. His English was atrocious, but my math wasn’t any better, but I had high honors in English, while Alex’s algebra skills were second nature. So for education, we help each other.
We spent the evening eating, gaming, and goofing around. Hell, even had a burping contest. It was Memorial weekend, so we didn’t worry about collage. We were off Friday due to Hurricane Isaac being on the coast, so our homework was done. I was in the midst of cleaning my Glock when Alex told me he was going to sleep. I gave him the courtesy of sleeping in my bed. Once my weapon was no longer in pieces and dirty from the shooting range, a tuckered off to bed.
I woke before Alex, at about 5:30 am. I have ROTC to thank for training me to get up at this time on a regular basis. And it was difficult to sleep, regardless of my restlessness. The hurricane was loud throughout the night, and sleeping on a recliner didn’t help either, so I was groggy this morning. Alex, however, seem to have no issue sleeping, he was sound asleep, snoring even. I’ve never heard him snore.
I decided to get a shower and wait a little while until I got Alex up. After about 3 hours, I went into the room to wake him. I really wish I didn’t. I really, really, really, cannot emphasize enough how much I wish I hadn’t.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: Alex
I awoke to the sound of True opening the bedroom door. I felt strange. Oh boy did I feel strange. True only assured my strange feeling at what he said next.
“Hey, get your lazy ass up and out of my be-,” he began, “Oh shit is that fire?” He reached for the blanket and swiftly removed it. What lay underneath was supposed to be me.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: True
But instead, was a pony. I would be cool with that. But the fucker was on fire, ON FIRE! I yelled and the creature and it squealed and yelled back. My bed caught ablaze, as did the walls, roof, floor, and my books. My first thought was to kill the bastard; after all it just might stop the fire. I dint have a fire extinguisher or anything, and this was my home. The first time I see a real pony, from a little girls TV show I watch, a creature from another dimension, one that was created by the woman that wrote my childhood! And I want to kill the damn thing. Nearly did to, if it weren’t for the familiar voice of Alex.
I pulled my Glock and aimed at the Pony that was burning my room.
“WAAAAAAAAAAAIT! What are you doing!?” That was the voice that belonged to Alex. What the hell was it doing coming from that ponies lips. Or muzzle. Maybe this was a dream, and I was about to wake up, and Alex wanted me to get up out of the fire. Yeah…any second…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: Alex
“WAAAAAAAAAAAIT! What are you doing!?”, I yelled staring down the sights of True’s Glock. He looked confused for a second and then shocked as the fire receded back to me…
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: True
“Alright fucker! You’ve stop the trigger from being pulled for now! ,” I bellowed at what I still can’t believe I was seeing. I looked back a bit, but kept my eyes on the pony. I yelled to Alex, who I assumed was in the bathroom or something.
“ALEX! Hey!” I yelled back into the hallway.
“WHAT MAN!?” came the response. But it wasn’t from the hallway.
“Are you fucking kidding me!?!?!” By now, I’m sure the whole damn neighborhood could hear me.
Alex the fucking pony said, “What’s going on?!”
“Well…” I began, putting back my Glock. “You’re a fucking pony.”
[insert title here]
Author’s note- Alex- this is written by two people me and another guy. This is going to be an epic story so stick around. Teehee.
Author’s note-True- Ok, our first time writing anything. And it’s about Ponies. Awesome. Anyway, my middle name is legitimately True. My first name, I won’t tell. I am 20 years old, and Alex is 19. I’m turning 21 in a few weeks, so booyah. Beer in one hand, a pony in the other, and my Glock 17 somewhere.
Chapter 2: Natural Abilities
I sat there; or rather I stood on my fore hooves and sat on my haunches. The jaw of my muzzle hit the floor of True’s bathroom as I looked at my reflection. I couldn’t possibly stand up at the awesomeness that held me down.
“I look so…AWESOME,” I half shouted down the hall to True.
And I do look awesome being a flaming pony and all that. True and I learned quickly that my mane and tail were like living flames. Basically everything about my new body referred to some element of fire: My coat is of a magma-orange completion, my mane and tail were fire like, and my eyes… my abnormally large eyes were a playful blue flame color. Finally the thing that pulls it all together is…my horn. Yep, I’m a unicorn “Deal with it”
Recovering from my stupor, I raised my front hooves and gently rubbed my ear as it was still recovering from the ringing. “I can’t believe you almost shot me,” I yelled down the hall. I shakily stood up and headed for the door. As I made my way into the living room clumsily I tripped over my own hooves.*Thump*
True was staring at me as I laid there on the floor. “I thought you were going to roast me alive, so technically, it’s not my fault,” he said as he held back the laughter of my clumsiness. "At least the cop is gone."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: True
“Dumbass” A quick retort was sent to Alex as he picked himself up. It seems he’s still trying to get used to a four legged body; doesn’t help that the only magic trick he can pull off is frinken’ fire either. I mean, really, think about it. Unicorns have the ability to fabricate magic and manipulate it to their will. They can levitate objects, teleport; create spectacular fireworks or colorful spectrums. But this ass, (Get it? Ass?) nearly burns my trailer to dust. Hell of a talent.
Ok, let’s go back thirty minutes. After Alex pulled back the flames in my room and I told him he was a pony, he bobbled around, full of excitement. I sighed and relaxed a bit, seeing that my room was no longer ablaze; and even better, that nothing was burned. But then the bastard sneezed. Flame flew from his muzzle, and burned the hell out of my hand, my body reacted, and I felt the familiar squeeze, then click of my Glock. A 9mm round was sent straight at Alex’s head. You can’t dodge a bullet, but you can get very lucky. The round missed and grazed the tip of his ear.
Some time had passed, and blue and red flashing lights fallowed by loud sirens blasted throughout the trailer park.
“Shit! Neighbors must of called the cops!...Alex!”
Alex looked at me confused,”What?”
I twitched before speaking, “You’re still a damn pony!”
Alex looked at himself, the realization setting in, ”Uhhhhh…umm…oh no…”
The loudest beating on I door I have ever heard, rang all through the trailer. I mean he was BEATING that thing. I wondered if it pleasured him to beat on doors…
“Well fuck” I quivered, ”Uhh…just don’t move!”
Alex only nodded. Good thing to, because the cop was getting impatient.
“Open the door, MPD!” came a commanding, muffled yell from the door. I ambled over to the door, took a short breath, and proceeded to open it.
“Can I help you officer?” Before observing any features the man held, I immediately noticed his hand on his revolver. I knew the model too, Smith and Wesson Model 28-2 Highway Patrol .357 mag.
A well dressed uniformed cop with brown eyes, a thick beard and gruff voice began to speak, “My name is Mark Freeman, I got a report that a weapon was fired off in this residents. I don’t see any bodies, but I still need to check things out.” Freeman looked to be in his early 30s, maybe 5’11’’ or 6 feet. He was a big guy, the kind I don’t want to piss off.
I know that cops are given the M9, .40 cals, and even some .45 Glocks, but not a goddamn .357. Revolvers are usually reserved for sheriffs. Revolvers are obsolete, which begs the question- what is he doing with a relic? This guy was really something.
I chuckled a bit, “I’m sorry officer, I accidently fired off a blank from an old horse-race revolver. It’s a M1873 9mm blank firing revolver. I dint think it was that loud.”
I led the officer in my living room/kitchen area. It was cool inside, the air-conditioner, just now kicking on. Alex was standing next to one of the vents. He looked like a life sized plushy. Wind pushed his magma colored mane into his nose. It was probably irritating him. As Freeman stepped in he noticed Alex almost right away. A pony is pretty damn big.
I thought of a quick lie, “It’s a toy for my sister…anyway; I’ll take you to my gun cabinet.”
Freeman almost reached back to his gun. “Gun cabinet? What the hell are you doing with a gun cabinet?” His attention was off Alex at least. I was confident that Freeman would probably shoot a pony if he saw it move.
Freeman followed me back into my work room, right past the room where I fired off the Glock. I was worried about the smell of gun powder getting to his nose. But the smell was absent, most likely due to Alex sucking in the fire as well as the smoke.
My dank work room had the smell of grease, oil, and most notably, gun powder. I flicked on the room’s light switch and allowed the light to flood in. The room wasn’t big, but in Freeman’s presence, it felt especially small.
I opened my weapons cabinet and stepped back. In the steel cabinet, there lay, in perfect condition, my Glock 17, Beretta M9, Sig Sauer p229, Walther p-22, the revolver that fires blank rounds, and to top it all off, my grandfather’s Colt M1911 .45. The cabinet was built to hold larger firearms, (e.g. Rifles, shotguns) however, the handguns and a small bit of ammo, are the only things that take up any space.
“Do you have any permi-“
“Already expected that sir,” I interrupted as I presented him papers of my weapons, verifying that I am legal to own them. The cop looked at them with a stern look and glance around my room.
“Why do you have so many weapons in a small trailer like this,” He said, looking back at the papers, flipping through them.
A quiet thud could be heard throughout the trailer. I knew it had to be Alex. Before Freemen could ask, I quickly spoke up.
“Preparation sir! I’m going to be a Marine.”
This caught his attention. He set the papers down and gave me a look over.
“A Marine, huh? I served in the US Army for 25 years. My brother is going to retire an old Gunny Sergeant come this January.”
This was exactly what I needed - a distraction, or rather a justification, for the weapons. We chatted about our families fighting in the Second World War, ‘Nam, Gulf War and today. He told of his experiences of being in the Army, as a Sergeants Major. I tugged on the old, ’It’s an honor sir.’ and flattered him.
After about 20 minutes or so, after making it back to the living room, Freemen finally let loose. “Weeeelllllp, ahhhh…looks like I better be on my way.” Alex looked very convincing as a plushy. Hell, even I forgot about him for a second.
“Thank you for stopping by, sir.”
“And it was just a blank?”
“Yes sir.”
I escorted Freemen to the door and bid him good bye.
Alex didn’t move until the cop’s car was well out of hearing range, and let out a long breath.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Alex’s Perspective
*phew* “That was close,” I exclaimed, wiping my face with a fore hoof.
“No shit,” True said with discontent clear in his voice.
I started for the fridge, “Boy was that agonizingly BORING, and man, I’m thirsty.” I rifled through the fridge for a beverage. Whatever I grabbed didn’t last long as I gulped it down.
I look over to True to see him deadpan. He says in a calm low tone, “Alex, you do realize that’s hot sauce right?” I look back at the bottle in my hoof. “heh, that’s weird it tastes like Pepsi to me,” I say nonchalantly as I throw the now empty bottle. That’s when I felt a tickling sensation in my stomach that slithered up my throat and out my mouth.
*BUUUURRRRRRPPPPP*
Ducking behind the counter, True barely managed to dodge the insane flames that escaped my mouth. He hesitantly rose from his now scorched cover with a dangerous scowl written on his face. “Dude, what the Fuck!” he then sighed, calming down a bit, “This is going to be on hell of a weekend.”
I went on to the bathroom to get a look at myself, "I look so... AWESOME!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Perspective: Mysterious Men
“We have reason to believe a nuclear device is in the US. Hurricane Isaac was probably used for cover to get it in the states.”
“Where?”
“Satellites are showing signatures in the south, west Mississippi; it’s here on the charts. Large groupings of radiation and immense energy, it may be a new type of bomb.”
“Check the local police reports, anything major in the last 48 hours?”
“Yes sir. A weapon was said to be fired in the dead center of the signature, and an officer was dispatched to check it out. Turns out it was just an accident; a blank was fired.”
“What’s the officer’s name?”
“Mark Freemen.”
Author’s notes-
Alex- Sorry for the lack of writing :( We've been busy catching up with school work since H Isaac has set us back. We'll get back to writing though! By the way, MPD means - Madison Police Department.
True- So yeah, the new chapter is here. It’s a little more spread out with the “Perspective” thing. And as you can see, I’ve gone from editor, to co-author/editor, to now, writer. Come on Alex, write a bit more! Anyway, this is the first time I’ve really written anything major. Well, I hope you enjoyed reading. And look, we already have a plot! (Get it? Plot?)
Nightmares and Ewww!!! Bugs
Laughter.
I could hear children, laughing in the distance.
I turned my head in the direction of the joyous sound.
All I could see was five figures, moving about.
They were so far away the only detail I could make out was that they were foals.
I saw the joy and innocence in their squeaky laughter as they frolic and play amongst themselves.
I could feel a strange connection to them.
I want to join them, so I take a step forward. But not before…
*CRACK*
I fell back onto my haunches and watched in horror.
Evil Laughter crackled through the sky like thunder.
The ground beneath the foals began to crumble and consume them.
The only thing that escaped from the earth was tiny shrieks of pure terror.
There was nothing I could do… only watch.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”, I scream, falling from the couch and onto my head then proceed to fall on my stomach, flailing wildly. It takes me a few moments to realize it was just a dream. No. A nightmare.
I get up groggily as I hear True in the kitchen. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” I grumble through my drowsiness. I shake myself getting free of the chokehold the blanket had me in.
“Because I didn’t feel like burning myself at 6:30 in the morning,” he replied. “I’d like to keep my hand, thank you.”
“Dude, you look a little shaky. You alright?”
Alex’s eye twitched, “No I’m…I’m fine…just a bad dream…”
I eyed Alex closely, squinted, looking for some tale tell sign of a problem. But nothing came up. He just looks tired. I guess turning into a fictional character is tiring.
“Well, have a seat, breakfast is almost done. Wait, you can’t sit in a chair…Never mind, just sit somewhere.”
“Shit…”
I saw the car from the window; it was our friendly cop, Mark Freemen, at the door. I looked at Alex, and right on cue he froze in place. I gulped, put on a fake, thin smile, and opened the door.
“How are you sir, it’s good to see you again. What brings you here?”
“Hello True, I’m here to do another check on your firearms, I also have a few papers I that need your signature.”
“Alright, well please, come in.”
I led him inside and picked up a red pen from the coffee table. Why is he here again? My signature on some papers, huh? If he needed proof, he could check the copy of the legal papers I gave him the other day. I call bull shit. Something’s going on here.
But I obliged regardless and signed the papers. I turned my back to see how Alex was keeping up. Solid as a rock.
Suddenly, the urge to release the valves hit. “I’ll be right back; I’m just using the restroom.”
I return moments later, papers in hand. Freemen eyed the papers,” Did you, uhh…”
Freemen took the papers and went on his way.
“But sir, what about my fir-“
“Something else came up kid, duty calls.” I swear I heard Alex snicker, probably because Freemen said ‘duty’… Idiot.
“What the hell? Why did he even…”
I saw Alex spit something out, and before he spoke I closed his muzzle and put my finger over my mouth, telling him to be quiet. What he spit out was a bug, and not the kind that crawls.
*DUN DUN DUUNNNNNNN*
