The Legion Of Doom's Newest 'Recruit'.
The Obligatory Boring Intro Bit.
Hi! My name is Francis-something. I know absolutely nothing about My Little Pony or any of its associated affiliates, inferior spin-offs, tacky merchandise…
Wait. Come back! You didn’t let me finish my sentence, thou highly impatient individual. What I was going to add at the end there, before you stormed off in a huff to read Anon’s latest not-at-all-fictitious account of his carnal activities with a humanoid, big-boobed Celestia, was…
….’And that remained the case, until around this time last month’. See? A bit more interesting now, isn’t it? Come on, try a few paragraphs more so I can set the scene…
As I write this, I can name you all the main ponies, their pets, every single Cutie Mark and it’s meaning, all the supporting cast (even that stupid sea monster who only appears in episode one) and yes, even most of the songs (not that you’d want to hear me sing them, unless you fancy a perforated eardrum).
Doesn’t sound that impressive, does it? You’re thinking ‘what has this seemingly insignificant dweebo with intensely red hair, freckles to the max and more moles on his back than there are stars in the sky at night got what I haven’t? I’m a big fan of the show myself, I know all this stuff too. Let’s see how far Anon has gotten in his conquest, maybe Luna’s arrived on the scene dressed as a nurse with silken stockings. Yay for sexy threesomes!’
Well, allow me to add this shock revelation before you click off to partake in a private game of pocket billiards… I’ve never seen one single episode of the programme in my entire humdrum life. Kind of amazing, huh?
Let me close a few other gaping loopholes while I’m here: I haven’t read any novelisations, looked up any synopsis of episodes online, been to any fan forums or conversed with any other viewer of the series in person ever, either.
In fact, my only knowledge of MLP in the build-up to this epic tale was of the retro 80’s franchise, long before I was actually born (I’m an early noughties baby, Baby!). People mocked it as a stupid craze for little girls, and I kind of agreed.
It was the blueprint for all unchallenging, prosaic, boring childhoods all over the world… where everything was unrealistically perfect, the sun shone anew every single morning and rainbows beamed freely from the whiskers of fluffy kittens to make everyone happy and merry the whole day through. Ugh, do me a favour…
Now though, as cheesy and corny as that naively idealistic view sounds, I’d grab it with both hands compared to what I’m experiencing right now. It’s true what they say, you know: you really don’t know what you’ve got til’ it’s gone, although the chances of a Big Yellow Taxi parking up alongside me to take me out of this living nightmare are… somewhat remote, to say the least.
Oops, getting a bit ahead of myself here. I suppose I should start at the beginning, which seems almost another lifetime ago now. Here goes nothing… but I warn you, I may have to stop anytime. Things are pretty dangerous around here right now, and… well, you’ll understand when I get to that point. Maybe.
Author's Note
This is just setting the scene, and so I've little to add here. Please click on the next chapter icon for the continuum of this gripping odyssey... or don't. Isn't freedom of choice a great thing? 
Take Care Speaking Your Mind Around Inanimate Objects.
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The Legion Of Doom's Newest 'Recruit'.
Take Care Speaking Your Mind Around Inanimate Objects.
I still lived alone with my Dad a couple of years after I quit school with nary a degree to my name, (unless you count my outstanding success at getting a second place certificate for swimming the 50 metre backstroke when I was still athletically inclined) waiting for the job market to ‘pick up’ as I kept telling him.
SPOILER: I never had any intention of seeking meaningful employment. I was quite comfortable just laying about on my pallid backside all day; playing on my Switch, consuming various unwholesome snack items and absorbing whatever forgettable junk the various streaming services had to offer me.
It wasn’t a big deal for either of us though, really. You see, when Mum died while I was still just a kid (RIP, get your breasts checked regularly ladies) she had quite a favourable life insurance premium, and so we weren’t exactly destined for the poor house.
Financial stability may have assured our immediate future, but it does come with a few caveats. For starters, it meant I never had to worry about doing anything with my life, so instead of going out there to explore the ‘Big Wide World’ like I promised my mother I would on her deathbed, the closest I actually came to embarking on an ‘epic adventure’ was emptying the bins outside once a week.
(And even then, I vigorously feuded with my father as to who’d take on that major responsibility… let’s just say he’s not the best at Rock, Paper, Scissors, and I didn’t have to do it that often).
Speaking of the old man, something you’ll quickly notice upon entering our domain is the lack of free space there is. You might think with just the two of us, and four bedrooms going spare, there'd be plenty of room to move in… but alas, this is not the case whatsoever.
You see, my dad is what’s commonly known in psychological circles as a ‘serial hoarder’. Whether he’s always been this way inclined, or it’s an unwelcome trait he picked up to cope with Mum’s sudden death, I haven’t the foggiest idea. What I do know though is that it’s a major problem, and his habit has turned our once spacious house into something of a can of sardines.
With the exception of my room (he’s begged and pleaded, but no way is he turning my only personal living space into an overstocked storage closet) every nook and cranny in the house is stuffed full of old newspapers, out-of-date food, damp clothes, broken electrical devices and various bric-a-brac which he swears blind will be worth something one day (trust me, it won’t).
I’m not sure where he gets it all from, but the week wouldn’t be complete without yet another heap of undistinguished rubbish stacked up at the side of our walls, making the narrow walkway that already comprises the route through our house more constrictive with every passing day.
I’ve brought up with him the fact he might have a problem, but all he does is laugh and say I’m over-exaggerating. Tell that to the guys at the council who refuse to read our gas or water meter anymore, lest an avalanche of Doctor Who memorabilia or cracked vinyl records bury them forever in our crammed landfill of a home.
In a thousand years or so, excited archaeologists may just pull me and my father’s gnarled remains from the ruins of our former address, just like they did with those ancient Egyptians in the Pyramids. I hope when they see my pristine room, they realise only one of us was happy living in an absolute tip.
Anyway, now I’ve given you a general outline of our ‘unique’ living situation and the kind of unforgiving environment I’ve been brought up in, we can begin the story proper. Hurray!
Just another quick note though: If I don’t explain something effectively enough, it means I haven’t the means or comprehension to describe it better. Having eked out such an until-now comparably normal existence, some of the following experiences were… well, let’s just say ‘earth-shattering’ doesn’t quite do them justice.
Of course, it would help if I was still on Earth… anyway, let’s get on with it, shall we?
*******************
It all started off as your typical, usual day. I’d just jumped out of bed at around 7am, stretched my arms aloft, had a much-needed shave (it’s bad enough being mocked for having carrot red hair on my head, I don’t want a big bushy beard too thank-you-very-much) and began to plan my undoubtedly packed schedule..
“Hmm, now let’s see… should I eat my cereal first, or get dressed? Will I play the latest Mario game, or start on the newest season of Loki? Should I sit down to pee, or stand up? Decisions, decisions…”
As you can tell, my life was full of such tough choices, and I needed time to process each one with the utmost care. But just as I sat down for a second to consider my multitude of options, who should burst through the door uninvited to my room at that exact second but my dear old dad. Obviously, that ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign was paying for itself already,
He used to be quite the dapper chap in his salad days, believe it or not (and I have the photos from back then to prove it… remember Polaroids?). Now, if you looked at his scruffy clothes, took in his unkempt demeanour and smelt his slightly unsavoury aroma, you wouldn’t ever believe he could court a stunner like my mother. Oh well, such are the mysteries of life.
“Hey there, Frankie boy!” He squinted at me in the emerging daylight whilst attempting to smile, although in truth the effort came across as more of a grimace. “I was just wondering if you could do your old geezer a favour…”
“No, I am not going to help you alphabetise your massive VHS collection from A to Z! I told you before… you never watch any of them anyway!” I swear, my dad was probably camping outside Blockbusters the day it shut down, ready to purchase their entire stock. But in his possession, these once cherished much-viewed video tapes became just another mountain to climb which cut off access to our back door. It’s okay though, I guess. Neither one of us likes gardening or barbeques anyway.
“Oh it’s okay, I took care of that last night while you were asleep!” He boasted, as if expecting me to be impressed. “Actually, this is something else. A couple of days ago, I was at this car boot sale hoping to pick up a few assorted knick-knacks, when I spotted something the likes I’d never seen before. The seller practically begged me to take it off his hands, I can't think why. Here, let me show you what I mean…”
Silently, but somewhat intrigued despite my better nature, I watched him disappear behind the door frame once more, only to quickly reappear accompanied by a few gasps and grunts… pulling along probably the ugliest thing I’d ever seen in my life (yes, I do count all the times I look in the mirror every morning. Haha, very funny you guys).
It was a solid stone statue composed of what can be described as three unforgivably hideous lifeforms in various bizarre poses. A giant centaur-type monster, a huge bug-like creature and a smallish cartoony horse were all stuck together, in eternal agony going by their warped facial expressions. I don’t know who the original artist was, but they better not have gotten any work outside designing gargoyles after this utter abomination.
“You’re kidding me. You actually paid cash money for this revolting monstrosity? Whatever you spent, I’d probably have paid double just to have it taken away. Please don’t tell me you intend to keep it…”
“Oh no, of course not. This sort of thing is ‘all the rage’ at the moment, so I’ll probably stick it on eBay in a few days! You just watch me make quadruple my profits on this majestic work of art, then you’ll be laughing on the other side of your face, oh son of mine!”
“Yeah, ‘all the rage’. Just like those hundred pairs of luminous dungarees you purchased last year would be a ‘goldmine’ for joggers at night… and how many of those did you actually sell in the end? Let me give you a clue: I tripped over the unopened box of them last month on my way to brush my teeth! Why can’t you buy something useful for a change, like band aids?”
“Aw, don’t be like that, my lad!” He took a step forward to awkwardly pat me on the shoulder. Face-to-face contact was not really his forte “Every journey to being a millionaire has to have a few setbacks now and then just to make it interesting…!”
“Oh, really? Well, I’m still waiting for one success story from you buying all this worthless trash. Ever wonder why none of our friends or relations ever come to see us anymore? Would you want to be invited to dinner at a house which is more of a skip than a human habitation…?”
“E-Erm… I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Frankie.” Dad’s eyes began darting around from side-to-side in that weird way they do when he feels uncomfortable with the subject at hand. “I didn’t come in here to discuss family matters with you, anyway. Here’s what I’m asking; I know you said you wouldn’t allow me to keep any of my personal items in your bedroom, and I understand that I agreed to it under fear of pain, death or a severe reprimand, but…”
“No.”
“It’s a very big sculpture, and I’ve got nowhere to put it for now.”
“No.”
“I tried moving a few things out of the way, but no matter how hard I…”
“No!”
“I thought I’d be able to squeeze it just under the staircase, but the boiler was in the way, and we might need that during the winter.”
“Are you deaf, or something? There’s not a snowflake’s chance in hell I’d spend one moment alone with that disgusting freakshow. I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn, it’ll be the first thing I see and I won’t want to get out from under my covers for the rest of the day. I will gladly smash it to smithereens for you though, if you like. Let me just go get my hammer…”
“I thought you might be this unreasonable, but I gave it my best shot…”
“What, ‘unreasonable’ in not wanting creepy statues of freaks and monsters in my private quarters? Yeah, so selfish of me. I’m so sorry”. I wasn’t usually this flippant with my dad (I kind of felt sorry for him, in truth), but what he was asking was completely beyond the pale, right? Right. Thought you’d agree.
“I didn’t want to resort to this Frankie, but you've left me little option.”
“This ought to be good. What have you got up your sleeve this time to convince me to give refuge to this grotesque aberration? Because whatever it is, trust me… it ain’t gonna work.”
“Oh, we’ll just see about that. Did you know, at your age, I can legally start charging you rent?”
Uh oh.
“It’s true! I looked into it on the internet, and everything. I could even start charging for back rent which you owe me from the past. And considering you’ve lived here for two years without contributing a penny, that comes to just around…”
************************
I flipped in the end, of course. No way was I giving up on the latest gaming titles and my precious Netflix subscription for the sake of any statue, no matter how unbelievably hideous it was (although mere words couldn’t do it justice in that regard, I’m still trying my best).
So I predictably folded like a wet rag, and agreed to take on my new roommate ‘for one week, max’ as my dad swore blind to me (but going by recent history alone, I suspected the duration might be somewhat longer).
My once-promising day was utterly ruined after that humiliating climbdown. I tried playing a video game, but every time I saw that thing staring back at me, I lost a life… so I eventually gave up.
Next, I put on a movie, but nope. The pure hate and spitefulness dripping from that awful artwork distracted me so much I lost focus on the plot, so I quit that idea too.
Eventually, as the evening drew in, I was reduced to lying on my bed looking at it intensely, all kinds of pertinent questions bubbling away fervently at the back of my overactive brain.
Like, for example: What was the designer thinking? Was it specifically made for Halloween? Who are those weird characters meant to be? Where can I find a cloth big enough to cover it up, so I no longer have to be traumatised by its pure repulsiveness?
On and on my mind wandered, until the sheer exhaustion of trying to find the answers sent me into a deep sleep.
It wasn’t destined to last, though.
********************
I woke up with a start, the sensation of being dragged was all around me and it was pitch black wherever I looked.
What the… it feels like I’m on the ground somewhere… I should be in bed… I can’t see a thing… What's going on here?
“So, ‘revolting monstrosity’ am I? We’ll see about that! Or rather, my muscles will by the time I’m done with you!”
Huh, who said that? It sounded like an otherworldly voice that for some reason sent a convulsive shiver down my spine.
“Think we’re ‘disgusting freaks’, do you? Well we’re about to take a little trip, human-thing… and then you’ll get plenty of chances to see for yourself!”
I am dreaming, aren’t I? Please tell me I’m dreaming… That next voice sounded more female, yet still ghastly and almost accompanied by an audible hiss.
“How you can call lil ol’ me a ‘grotesque aberration’ I don’t know, but I’ll be sure to pay you back tenfold for your kindness! First though, lights out!”
“ ‘Light’s out’? What are you talking about…” That last voice sounded like a little girl’s. Weirder and weirder. I spoke for the first time to these mystery figures, finally making out the outlines of three somewhat familiar figures…
No, it couldn’t be…
I didn’t get to fully grasp the impact of this amazing revelation however, before the impact of something equally heavy hit the back of my head and put me back into my deep, deep, sleep.
But again, not one that lasted forever. Which was most unfortunate, when you consider the following events…
Author's Note
Yep, another HIE fic... but this one has a twist. Or several, as you'll soon discover.
Let's see where this journey takes us, and expect the unexpected. Or, something cliched like that. 
