The Chronicles of a Furball

The Chronicles of a Furball

Chapter 1: In a New York Minute

        Equestria

     We all know it. Most of us hear or read that one little word nearly every day of our lives since we discovered the world that belings to it. That single name has sparked the imagination of thousands of people over the coarse of the last two and a half years.

     Just take a step back and think about how many people Equestria has touched. How many peices of music, works of art, animations, and fanfictions it has spawned.

     This place isn't just a concept in a children's television show, it is a whole world. A world filled with unique people and places, as rich an diverse as our own.

    Let me take a moment and ask you; How close is Equestria actually to our Earth? Most would say that it is almost completely different, they are the kind to think that Equestria is a utopia, and our planet is a dying mass of squabbling nations. They belive Equestria, unlike Earth, has no hate, no racism,  no violence, and no war. It only hads room for love and tolerance.

     They would be wrong.

     Equestria is much more similar to our world than you would think. It does have hate, it does have racism, it does have violence,  and it does have war in the same capacity as Earth.

     There are a select group of people that know this truth all too well. Echo the Diamond Dog, Warclaw the beast, Ace the Saytr, Jazz the Cat, Ivan the Zebra, Missy the Cow, Knightmare the Changeling, and Griffin the Griffin, to name a few. These people are but peices in a divine game of chess, played by the gods themselves.  These warriors are the only thing that stands between Equestria and total annihilation.

     Today, I will become one of them.

     My name is Sylus, and I'm an Ottsel.

XVXVXVX

        It was a warm and sunny day in Equest- wait, that's a horrible opening! In fact this was not Equestria and neither was it sunny, far from it in fact. This was New York city, the sky was overcast, and it was cold enough outside to disprove global warming. Days like this are common up here in the Big Apple, especially in late December.

        Despite the crappy weather, today would be the best day of my human life. And the last one, to boot.

        Today is the day I yell at my boss, quit my job, get hammered, sing a song, and go to Equestria.

        And boy, do I have a helluva story to tell...

Clack clack clack...clack clack....clack clack clack clack.... Oh dear god in heaven, how I hated typing. I have ever since I took keyboarding in high school. Ironic, seeing as how I've spent the last two years of my life doing a job where I was hired only to type up useless bits of information. Have I ever told you the definition of insanity? Insanity is working in an office space eight hours a day, six days a week, and expecting something intesting to happen.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I work in a tenth-floor office for a living, coming to work in a white shirt and tie to be harassed by my boss. I push papers, I type up forms, I work in administration. Well, I'm supposed to anyway. I actualy do very little, I've perfected the art of making yourself look busy while not actualy working. I get less done in a year as a pencil-pusher than a construction worker can do in a single day.

     Y'know what the funny thing about that is? Nothing happens. I slack off on my work and not a damn thing goes wrong anywhere. My role in this company is completely mundane, no one in the world relies on me doing my job in the slightest. If it wern't for my boss, a fat gal called Floor Manager Mosby, beathing down my neck I wouldn't even be typing.

Clack clack clack fucking clack Someone stop me.

For the fist year on the job, I was full of hate. I hated work, I hated typing, I hated my boss, I hated this building, I hated this city. Hate hate hate. But then one faithful day, I was not working like normal, just browsing the internet for things to fill my time. Then I found it. You all know what I'm talking about; My Little Pony: Friendhip is Magic. Oh yeah, that day was awesome.

     I'll just skip the process of denial and embarassment involved with discovering that wonderful show, I'm sure you are very famaliar with it. Fast forward one month and I'm having the most fun anyone can have on the internet watching the show, reading the fiction, oogling the art, and listening to the music. Naturaly, my boss had problems with this.

     "You watch a show for fuckin' little girls," Mosby would say "I don't know whether to laugh, or cry!" She normally went with pointing and laughing, but with the ideas of love and tolerance fresh in my mind, I ignored her. She normally flollowed up the insults with something like "Take your thumb outta your ass and get to work, Mercury!

     Today was the last day that I had to hear it.

Clack clack clack clack Why me?

The office floor was filled with the quiet murmur of our average, everyday activities. It was nothing but the hum of the heating unit, the crackling of papers being shifted across cheap wooden desks, and the occasional ring of a telephone. If you listened carefully, you could hear the sound of boredom emanating from every present worker. The only thing that sets this place apart from Hell is the fire and brimstone.

     The quiet was deafening, I hated the quiet. That's probably why I've always had a knack for office pranks, usually the kind that involve loud noises that make everyone in the room jump up like they had seen a ghost. In fact, I had one planned for today that should break the silence any moment now...

HOOOOOOONK! ! !

     Bingo. Did you hear that? Of coarse you didn't, this is a written work, ergo you cannot actually hear the onomatopoeias. That particular onomatopoeia was the sound of an airhorn going off in the cubicle next to mine (Heh heh heh). I had duct-taped a horn to the underside of my co-worker's office chair. It was rigged so that when he sat in it, the chair would slide down and hit the button on the top of the airhorn, causing the desired HONK sound.

     The prank worked as well as I hoped it would, my friend, Mel, jumped and shrieked like he just found a severed limb on his desk. The entire office was jolted into being alert by Mel's less-than-manly cry. They all immediately cast a collective glare at me, I did have a perchance for airhorns when it came to office shenanigans. It was something about the way that airhorns can break the focus of any living being with a sense of hearing that just drew me to them like a moth to a bug-zapper.

     Mel casualy leaned over the plastic wall that separated our cubicles "Good one Si," he said in a deadpan voice, rolling his eyes "I can honestly say that I did not see that one coming."

     I looked at my friend innocently "Why would I ever do such a cruel thing to you?"

     He snorted, unamused "Puh-leez! Only you could have the gaul to do something like that."

     "Hey!" I said defensively "No one has ever proved that it was me doing all these pranks," it's true, I've never been caught with my hand in the metaphorical cookie jar, and I don't plan on breaking that streak today.

     "What in the sam hell was that?!" Came a familiar voice, a low alto that could only come from one person in this office.

     "Shhhhit," Mel said in a low voice " It's Mosby! Quick, look like you're working!" He ducked back into his cubicle and the entire floor went silent, like a rabbit in the presence of a wolf.

     "Was that another fuckin' airhorn?" A fat, bitchy wolf, but a wolf nonetheless. From her office at the end of the hall, Floor Manager Mosby came barreling out of the door. She glared at every one of the worker, trying to decide who looked the most guilty.

     Without a doubt, it was me. "Mercury!" She snapped, shuffling to my cube. Within moments she forced herself inside my personal space bubble "Fuckin' shit, Mercury. Do you not learn?"

     I backed away, her breath smelled of cigarettes and cream-filled doughnuts "Depends," I said evenly "Learn what?"

     She scoffed (Hoe-lee shit did she need some breath mints!)  "I've just about had it with you, Mercury!" Mosby snapped "Stay put! I'll be back to deal with you in a moment." And with that, she stormed off back to her cave.

     Ten minutes passed an Mosby hadn't reemerged just yet. I mentally shrugged and went back to the internet. I perused on over to check Equestria Daily for any cool new pony updates.

     Let's see music, animation, comics, Nightly Roundup (Yeah, more like Morningly Roundup amirite?), more music, oooh new story! Gimme gimme gimme. I clicked the article:

Story: The Ballad of Echo the Diamond Dog

[Comedy][Dark][Adventure]

Author: Rust

Description: After a deal gone awry, a human is thrust into Equestria with the body of a Diamond Dog. Eschewing the usual "Hey, I'm going to Ponyville!" shtick, he sets off on an epic around-the-world voyage of discovery,-

     "I'm back bitch!"

   "Ahh!" My deeply involved reading was interrupted by thd deep voice of  a ceartian floor manager that I knew. Out of suprise, I promptly fell to the floor with a dull thud. I was unhurt, but that wasn't exactly a totally pleasant experience either.

     Mosby made no move to help me up, she cared little for my safety. I entertained thoughts of a possible lawsuit for the company,  oh if only I had broken my nose or something.

     I looked up and Mosby was skimming the webpage with a maniac grin on her face "Oh what's this?" She said in a musical voice, with only a hint of malice in it "Not working I see, tsk tsk. I could get away with firing you for this." She wasn't kidding either, that girl used her banhammer like a drug fiend would use heroine.

     "But I'm not going to fire you," she cooed "In fact, I have a little task for you." She plopped a stack of papers on my desk.

     I rose from the floor and brushed the dirt off of my slacks "Can't you just fire me?" I asked ironically.

     "Oh nooo~" Mosby said, feigning sweetness "You're one of my best workers." Ok, now I KNEW she was bullshitting.

     I peered at the stack of paper, they looked like standard administration forms, but there were A LOT of them. They nearly stacked higher than my coffe mug "What are these?" I asked, flipping through them.

      "Oh just a few things I'm a teensy bit behind on," Teensy? There are forms fom last month on here! And she knocks our heads together for being lazy.

     I sighed "I'll have a look at them..." I said defeatedly.

     She completely dropped her nice-lady act and her voice became icy " Good. Do everything except the signatures, I'll handle those. I you don't finnish them, you're fired...Well? Get to work!"

     I flinched slightly "Yeah, sure," I grabbed the first paper from the stack and began the mundane process of filling out forms. Mosby nodded contentedly and left for her office, slamming the door behind her. Seconds later, the entire office was filled with rap music emanating from her office. Hard. Core. Gang. Rap. Jumpin' Jesus on a pogo stick! I'm being ear-raped! I mentaly screamed. Who in their right mind even likes that? Was she trying to commit musical suicide?

     The rest of the office workers seemed to agree, as if reading my mind. I can't say this is an uncommon or unexpected move from Mosby, she had a tendency to jerk us around like that, kinda like I did actually. But I did my pranks to brighten other people's moods in this otherwise depressing office space. Mosby was the bigger kid in this schoolyard, she bullied us to brighten her own mood at the expense of all the others.

     Anyone who worked here long enough learned to either tune out the so-called 'music' or bring their earplugs.

     Mel popped up from his space and looked at me curiously, with "Damn," he said simply, having to raise his voice to be heard over the rap.

     "Damn," I agreed. Could my day get any worse? I had about half a sheet done, mabye I could finish this next by next week if I tune out the music. And when I get done, I could-  Awww who am I kidding?! Fuck this work! I angrily shoved the stack of forms to the side, they flew about the cubicle in a flurry of papers. I slumped in my chair and rested my elbows on the desk with my head in my hands, the rap song still ponded on my skull like a hammer on a coconut.

     "What are you doing?" He asked supprisedly "You better pick those up! Do you want to lose your job?"

     "N-" I stopped  myself. That was a good question. A damn good question. Did I want to lose my job? Did I really care if I lost it? Is boring, dead-end job something I wanted?

     No, no, and no.

     Wow, it took me two years to have this epiphany. I hated this job, I should be smart and leave. Simple. But I wasnt exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, so I stayed like an idiot.

     "Yes," I finnaly answered "I don't give a flying rat's-ass about keeping this job. Let her fire me... and you know what?!" I stood up and gave Mel a hard look.

     "What?"

     "I 'll save her the trouble." I threw my hands up in the air hystericaly  "I quit! This job is going to lead me to an early grave, so I'm blowing this joint!"

     Mel nodded sagely "Then I envy you. Not many have the strength to leave this place." He paused, looking a little unsure "Say... why not have some fun? If your decision to quit is final, you could get away with pretty much anything."

     My eyed widened to the size of fists "Mel, you're a genius!" Oh sheeeeeit, this is gonna be fuuuun~ I gave my friend a wild grin "Let's get it on!"

     "What do you have in mind?" He asked quizzicaly.

     "First, we get rid of this thrice-damned rap music...." I sat back down and swiveled the chair to face my computer, I cracked my knuckles and went to work. My fingers flew across the keyboard 'Foo Fighters' I typed into the search bar of my music folder. I swiveled back to face Mel "Quick! What is the loudest, fastest,  and most head-bangin' song you can think of off the top of your head?"

     "Monkey Wrench!" He replied instantly.

     "Damn straight!" I said gleefully "With its sheer decibels and its pure awesomeness, we could combat the oppressive rap music with ease!"

     I caught a mischievous glint in Mel's eye "Hit it."

     "Hey Mosby!" I shoutes, unsure if she could hear me over the noise or not "Taste some real music, bitch!" I cranked up the volume to absolute maximum and all but smashed the Enter key.

     And then it played one of my favorite Foo Fighters song ever: Monkey Wrench. Unlike most music, this song did not have a slightly slower intro. Monkey Wrench started at the top and never let up, It blasted you harder than the Royal All-Caps Lock voice. The sond of both amazing music, and shitty rap filled the room and made the air vibrate. Everyone could not hear his or her self think, it was stupendous. And the best part? I was winning. The Foo Fighters drowned out Mr. Pimp-Daddy Sexmachine or whoever that poor bastard on Mosby's speakers was.

     Soon enough we had woken the beast, Mosby once again came thundering out of her private office.  He gaze was instantly turned toward me and Mel who, at the time, didn't notice. We were too busy banging our heads and playing air-guitar like a pair of champs. She stopped jusy short of me and glared into my eyes with such a fury that I had to take a step back to keep myself from falling "Mmmph mmph mmmmmmmph!" She screamed, ineffectualy. The music was too loud to hear anything softer than a jet-engine.

     I cupped a hand to my ear "Whaaaaaat?! I can't heeeeear you!"

     She reached over the the power cords running into my computer and forcefully yanked them out of the wall. The music cut off instantly and the computer died with the sad hum of powering down. She gave me another icy stare "What the fuck was that?!"

     Mosby was yelling directly into my face, her breath still reeked. So I did what any self-respecting man would do: I tweaked her nose like a boss "It's my two weeks notice, BITCH!"

     Her glaring look turned to one of surprise as the words left my mouth.  I wasted no time after making my announcement, I pushed past Mosby out of the cubicle and made my way to the elevator.

Ding!

The elevator's bell sounded and the silver doors slid open. I stepped inside and hit the button that took me to the ground floor, looking serene,  as if it was just a normal day.

     I felt that I needed to say something to commemorate the occasion, something for the workers to rember me by "Adios motherfu-" The elevator doors closed. Damn.

XVXVXVX

     One New York Minute later, I was standing at the entrance of my old office building staring at the grey sky. The frosty-cold raindrops constantly hit my glasses with a light tap. Several men and women walking the streets lightly bumped me as they rushed to get out of the rain, some holding umbrellas or jackets over their heads. The whole world turned bright white for scarcely a millisecond, and a moment later the rumbling of thunder rolled by like a stampede.

     Today was positively gloomy, and yet it couldn't have looked more beautiful.  Today was my first day of true freedom, it was the day I had finnaly opened my eyes and came to my senses. Today was the best day of my life. How did that old slave song go? Free at last, free at last.

     This deserved a celebratory smoke. I fished a gleaming steel lighter and green pack of menthol cigarettes out of my coat pocket. I grabbed one of the little white sticks and lit it. Yes, I do smoke. Sue me why dont'cha?

     The entire city came into clarity as I inhaled the tobacco smoke. Sounds became a little bit clearer, colors a little brighter, and the world seemed a little better than it was a moment ago. I exhaled and cloud of off-white smoke came rolling out if my mouth, taking all the leftover bad feelings with it.

     Life was good. I may be out of shape, unemployed, and standing in the freezing rain, but life was still good and no one was going to take it from me.

     Oh how wrong I was...

      I finished the cigarette and flicked its brown butt into to gutter, feeling like a million dollars. As if on cue, someone thew open the office doors right behind me and stormed out. I turned around to see who else but Mel, stomping down the street and muttering curses to himslef.

     Either he hadn't seen me standing there or he didn't care because he went right past me. I jogged over to catch up with him "Hey, Mel!"

     Mel stopped and twisted to look at me, his face turned from that of anger to sadness. He didn't say a word, but turned to sit on the curb between a van and a parked taxi "Hey, Si." He said weakly.

     "What happened?" I asked, immediately kicking myself for asking such a stupid question. What else could have happened? He got fired for assising me in the raising of hell back there.

     We both knew what he was going to say, but he said it anyway "I got fired."

     My feel-good buzz from the smoke was gone. I sat next to Mel and put a hand on his shoulder "Was it because of me?" Had I really gotten both myself and my best friend fired?

     He smiled, but it went away quickly "No, it wasnt you. It was me."

     "Bullshit," I said flatly. "You know Mosby canned you because you're my friend, and you were helping me piss her off."

     He shook his head "I don't blame you though, she had it coming."

     "Then why do I blame me, huh? I started it, and you were found guilty by association." Fuck me for being stupid enough to think getting my belligerent boss angry is a good idea.

     Mel sighed and stared intently at the passing traffic. We both stayed that way for awhile, sitting in the rain and watching the world go by. He was the firstnto brake the silence "Well there's no use sitting and moaping. We might as well celebrate. "

     I looked at him as if he said that the grass was purple "You got fired! I hated that job, but I didn't survive on it. You, on the other hand, were barely holding on as it is. You needed to work."

     He shrugged "I have a few thousand squared away in a savings account for college. I can survive on it 'til another job comes along." Well at least I didnt ruin his life, that made me feel just a little better.

     "So..." I said "Celebration. Where do you have in mind?"

     Mel grinned "We go to the Singin' Monkey!"

     I gaped at him "We haven't been there in forever!"

     "I know!" He said ecstaticaly "That place had the best damned tequila ever!"

      "Well what are we waitng for? Lets get our drink on!" I shouted, jumping up as my previous attitude returned to me.

     "Let's!" He agreed.

XVXVXVX

     Before we hit The Singing Monkey, we made a stop at Mel's house to grab some dry clothes and a snack. I flagged down a cab and had him drop us off at a corner in Manhattan.

     The Singing Monkey was my absolute favorite karaoke bar in New York. It was little more than a bar, a couple of tables, and a stage with an old karaoke machine. Mel was the owner's cousin, so we got 10% off on most of the drinks.

    Stepping inside, we were hit with a wave of hot, dry air that smelled of cheap whiskey.  Inside was dark, not dark enough that you couldn't see your drink, but dark enough to not notice how ugly the girl your going home with is. There were about ten people scattered about the room, two of them were on the stage singing butchering Elton John's Someone Save my Life Tonight.

     The bartender quickly recognized us and he waved over. We took our seats at the bar, the barkeep had a friendly smile on his face.

     "Why, I haven't seen you two fellas in a month! How have you been, Mel?" The bartender said warmly.

     Mel shrugged "The usual. Messed with my boss, got fired, sat in the rain."

     The bartender's eyes widened "You got fired? What happened?"

     "Nothing I regret. Say, can you pour us two shots of tequila?" Mel said, eager to change the subject.

     The barkeep knew not to push issues like this "Coming right up." He set a pair of shotglasses on the table and filled them with a light amber liquid.

     "Bottoms up!" Mell called, downing the shot in a quick gulp.

     I followed suit and let the fiery water wash down my throat. It burned like the dickens but a pleasant numbness soon folowed. I slammed the glass on the table "Whoo! It's been awhile since I cut back like this. Hey, Mel, wanna play the Mas Tequila Game?"

     Mel shook his head vigorously "Nononono! We are NOT playing Mas Tequila!"

And what is is this game that you speak of, Sylus? You may ask.  A year ago, when we first started going to The Singing Monkey, I decided that it would be fun to play a drinking game. The rules are simple: We both take turns singing a verse of Sammy Hagar's Mas Tequila, and when one sings "Hey! Mas Tequila!" The other takes a shot. Three volunteer judges decide who slurrs the most words, and whoever they pick loses. Simple, yet fun.

     "Yes we are!" I retorted "It's not everyday that we quit our dead-end jobs.  Time to loosen up!" I turned to the bartender "Pour us fifteen shots of your strongest tequila. I'll pay the tab tommorow, I swear."

     The barkeep nodded and started setting the drinks on a tray. Meanwhile, the couple onstage just finished singing their song, putting us next in line for the karaoke machine. Mel grabbed the tray and made his way onstage and I followed, he set the booze on a stool in the center.

     I grabbed the microphone "Y'all ready for this?" A few of the drunks slurred their affirmatives. Good, the drinks are ready, I'm ready, Mel's ready...Let's do this.

     I pushed a button on the machine... the song started with drums. Beautiful, beautiful drums. "If you know the words," I said to thr drinkers " you can sing along. And if ya can't sing, ya can just yell."

     Then, as the guitar riff kicked in, I began to sing...I couldn't sing quite like Sammy Hagar, but I held my own.

All right now, here we go ...

Now we're gonna tell you a little story

About the way we like to party - take ya on a trip!

HIT IT!

     The guitars were on full blast now, and the crowd of maybe twenty people were cheering and singing (or yelling) along. Damn, I felt like a rockstar.

I'm goin' way down south where the big blue agave grow,

Takin' a weekend trip down to Baja, Me-he-co!

Where you can drink the water, but don't ya eat the ice,

Take your vitamin "T" with salt 'n lemon slice ...

One shot...Hey! Mas Tequila-

     Mel, who was standing to the side, took a single shot of tequila.

Two shots...Hey! Hey! que veneno-

Three shots...Hey! Arriba! Hey! Hey! Hey! Mas Tequila!

     Mel downed another shot, staggering a bit. With the verse finished, I tossed him the mic.

     Mel was a much better singer when it came to the hard rock stuff like Sammy Hagar and Van Halen, I had more of a Glenn Frey or Joe Walsh voice myself.

     My friend was a little drunk by now, his words were quite slurred. Drunk already? You may ask. Well, let's face it, we were total lightweights.

She did a mean makerheyna to the funky cold medeenah

Behind a body shhot and three margaritashh.

She'll drink it straight from the bottle, terra kotta jug,

From a boda bag coppin' a major buzz.

I say, One shhhot...Hey! Mash Teqeelah-

I downed a shot of firey water, it burned waaaay more than the first one did. Boy, when I asked for strong I sure as hell got it!

Two shhots...Hey! Hey! que venyeero-

Phrree shots...Hey! Arriba! Hey! Hey! Hey! Mas Teqeelah!

     Another shot for me, ohh goodie. I gulped it down in a second, staggering just as Mel did. What's in this stuff? Antifreeze?

     Mel passed me the mic, my turn. I had more time than Mel did to prepare myself, due to the epic guitar solo.

Uno mashh, bartehnder...one more...mas teqeelaaah!

          This time, we both took another shot. Oh how my lungs burned...

     The Hagar-savvy people in the crowd sang this next bit.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Back to Me...

Yeahhhh!

Yo can drinksh the water, but dont'shha eat the iceshh

Take your vertimin "T" with salt 'n lemin slicesh!

Onesh shhhet...Hay! Massh Teqeelah-

     Boom, one more for Melvin. He was starting to look a little sick. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...

Too shhets...Hay!hay! Que ven-shumthin'

Phree shhets...Hay!Arreebah! Hay! Hay! Hay! Mas Teqeelahh!

     You know the drill by now. More tequila for Mel. He had to sit down to keep from falling. I dropped the microphone in his lap "Yehr tern."

Wun shhet...

Too shhets...Haay! Heaay! que..que...ah

Phree shhh... Haay.. aye yay yahh...

     Back to the drinkers, who were infinitely more sober than us.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

     Everyone in the bar, including myself, Mel, the crowd, and even the bartender joined in on this last line.

MAS TEQUILAAAAAAA! ! !

     My head was swimming, my vision blured, I couldn't put together half of a coherent thought to save my life. But this was the last line, one more drink left.

     I grabbed a shot and put it to my lips, as did Mel. We both shared a quick look, I didn't want to do this last one and  even through my drunk, I could tell neither did he.

      I was sick of tequila. I don't know why I did it. Perhaps I still wanted to win? Maybe I just wanted it to end? Or I could have done it out of sheer stupidity. That seemed most likely.

    But we both threw back those shots of booze,  regardless of the reasons why. It was like drinking a fresh-squeezed glass of hell. I immediately regretted it, my stomach churned, my legs became wobbly, and my whole body became shaky like jell-o.

     The entire bar spun like I was riding in a sick carnival ride. The muttled cheers of the crowd, the urge to puke my guts out, the haze of intoxication, it all became too much to bear.

Plop. I passed out. Fell right on the hardwood stage, not giving a damn about who saw me. As the world faded to black, I managed one singular sober thought, it was more of a feeling, really.

This was not a good idea.