Another Lovely Day in the Neighbourhood

Flash felt itchy.

He clawed at his arms underneath the thick material of his jacket. It was a sensation that never seemed to lessen no matter how much he scratched. He’d even checked his skin directly and found nothing obviously wrong with it. Though annoying, it would probably sort itself out before long.

“W-where’s your girlfriend?”

Bulk Biceps was next to him in the school corridor. He was fidgeting with his hands as his eyes darted back and forth along the hall. It was weird how ‘on alert’ he always was.

“On a school trip out of town,” Flash answered.

“Gilda d-doesn’t really seem the type,” Bulk said.

“She isn’t, but I managed to get her to cave with a bit of nudging.” Flash grinned. “You know how she is.”

“Y-yeah.” Bulk’s eyes looked past him. He tensed. “I-I don’t like those campaign posters.”

Flash looked in the same direction as Bulk. Another of Celestia’s mayoral posters were on the wall. ‘Know the signs. Call ?#$-^&*-@#!^ if you need help.’

“Not a great campaign slogan,” Flash remarked. “I mean, what signs? What help does she even provide? Landscaping?”

“Huh?” Bulk furrowed his brow. “No, it says—”

“Flash.”

Timber appeared.

“You’re going to be late,” he said.

“Wait, where’s—” Flash heard a yelp. He looked past Timber and saw Bulk running full sprint down the hall. “Okay, nevermind. Anyways, what am I late for?”

“Trixie’s show,” Timber said. He dropped the letters at the end of the words making everything he said sound almost drunk. “You promised her you’d go see it.”

He didn’t recall making that promise. He hadn’t even seen Trixie in… He hadn’t seen Trixie. Which was a weird feeling since it was Trixie. She wasn’t exactly hard to miss.

“When did I promise that?” Flash asked.

“A long time ago,” Timber answered. “She’ll be mad if you aren’t there.”

The itching came back with a vengeance. He tried to scratch, but Timber grabbed his hand before he could.

“It’ll be good for you,” Timber said.

“Okay, sure. Let’s go. I— probably?— promised her so it’s only right that I show up.”

“Good.”

“...Are you going to let me go, Timber?”

Timber looked at him. Through him. Flash wasn’t sure if Timber liked what he saw.

He let go.

“We should go get seated,” Timber said.

“The auditorium, right? It should be—”

“Here.”

Timber jerked a thumb to Flash’s right. Flash was startled to find the entrance to the place in question. Posters for Trixie’s show were plastered all over the red door promising an ‘unforgettable show’.

“Right, we’re— when did we get here?” Flash asked.

“...We should go get seated,” Timber repeated.

Flash felt reluctant to enter. There was an undercurrent of fear inside him that he couldn’t quite place the origin of. It filled him with dread just thinking about entering the place.

Timber was looking through him again. Like he could read his thoughts. He hoped Timber couldn’t tell how afraid he was.

He grabbed Flash’s hand, holding tight.

It was the texture of wood. Rough and strong. It felt comfortable if a little more intimate then what he would have expected. It was similar to when he held—

“Timber, I have a girl—”

“Come on.”

With a hard tug, Flash was pulled into the theater. It was dark. Almost cavernous with how their steps echoed in the massive chamber. The place was packed, but the dim lighting made it impossible to make out anyone’s face.

Flash was yanked by Timber toward the front row and into two seats right in the middle. They sat down. Timber let go of his hand.

He didn’t want him to.

His head swiveled about the area looking for a familiar face amongst the darkened crowd.

“Can’t you sit still for more than a minute?”

Flash whipped his head toward the voice. There was just a dark face in the crowd ignoring him. On his other side, Timber was silent, staring forward with an intense look.

“Did you say something?” Flash asked.

“No,” Timber said.

Before Flash could follow up, the stage lights burst to life.

On stage was Trixie, dressed to the nines with a wide smile that was both taunting and smug.

“Hello, gentle audience!” She announced, arms raised up. “Welcome to the Grrreat and Pooowerful Trixie’s grand show!”

Spatters of polite claps. Flash followed suit. Afterward, he gripped the end of the armrests.

“Now to start things off, what’s up Trixie’s sleeves?” She pulled at one of her cuffs. “Hmmm, odd. Trixie was sure she put something there. Maybe—”

She pulled at the opposite cuff. A bunny’s head, disproportionately larger than Trixie’s sleeve, popped out. Flash was flabbergasted. He let out a cheer of delight at the trick.

Long nails dug into his hand.

“Ugh, why can’t you just behave?”

He looked at his hand. There was nothing there.

Flash returned to watching the show.

“Ah, there you are, assistant!” Trixie announced. “It appears they have finally decided to appear. Now, let’s get you out of there!”

She shook her cuff. The rabbit slid out. The cutesy head was attached to an elongated humanoid body with emancipated limbs with a simple red bow tie tied around its neck. Immediately, Flash felt there was something wrong. He started to stand up.

“Stop always making a scene.”

He sat back down. His foot tapped the ground, agitated. The itching got worse. He clenched his hands into fist to resist the urge to scratch them more.

“With Trixie’s greeeat and pooowerful assistant, we will be performing Trixie’s newest death defying trick!”

The ‘assistant’ walked off stage and brought back a massive water tank. It was human sized with glass panels bolted together with metal plates along the corners.

Dread formed in the pit of Flash’s stomach.

“Now, my assistant, bind me!” Trixie put out her arms as her assistant began to tie steel chains around her. “The greeeat and pooowerful Trixie will be bound tight—” The rabbit braced a foot against Trixie’s back and pulled “—and be dunked into this water tank! Then Trixie will miraculously escape unharmed!”

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd. The assistant, done tying Trixie up, slung her over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes and made their way toward the back of the tank.

This was insane. There was no way Trixie was ready for a trick like this and that rabbit looked far too dangerous. He needed to stop this. He started to rise, but was stopped by nails digging into his chest.

“Don’t be an embarrassment.”

Flash dropped back into his seat. That itching was getting worse by the second and was spreading along his neck. He scratched at the newest spot. Scratching became painful digging as his nails dug into skin.

The assistant climbed a ladder in the back of the tank and held Trixie upside down over the opening in the top.

It was like watching a cartoon villain readying to toss the hero down a cliff.

“Watch carefully as the greeeat and pooowerful Trixie astounds you all!” She looked up. “Now assistant!”

It dropped her.

Flash scratched harder.

Swimming freely at the bottom of the tank, she looked confident. Then the assistant placed a metal plate over the top of the tank, and a look of surprise crossed her face. She kicked the top. It didn’t budge. Panic began to spread.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. That was clear from the fear on Trixie’s face. It was going to end badly. He had to move. He had to save her. She was his friend. She was going to—

A hand like wood grasped his own.

Timber was looking at him. He offered a baseball bat in his other hand.

Flash took it.

“Don't be a moron.”

Before the other hand could stop him, he leaped out of his seat and clambered on stage. Trixie was banging against the glass. He swung.

Crunch.

“You’re ruining everything!”

Glass held. Mutters from the crowd. None of that mattered. He swung again.

Crack.

Glass shattered. Water spilled across the stage. A gasp of breath as Trixie fell out of the tank. He dropped the bat and went to her.

“Trixie are you—”

Bang.

“The greeeat and pooowerful Trixie has— Wait, what did you do?!”

Trixie was standing by the back entrance. Trixie was on the stage. Stage Trixie lifted herself onto her hands, her face twisted into rage.

“You lying wretch! You lied to Trixie! You lied! You lied! YOU—”

Crunch.

The assistant raised the bat it had taken again and swung down on—

He couldn’t look at it. Everything felt wrong. He turned toward the audience desperately searching for someone, anyone, to help him make sense of this.

Timber hugged him on stage, pinning his hands to either side of his head. He’d been scratching. He’d drawn blood along his neck. He hadn’t noticed. Timber stroked the back of his head. It was comforting.

“It’ll be over soon, I promise,” Timber whispered, “Just hang in there, ba—”