Filly scouts together, that is our song,
Winding the old trails, rocky and long…

“Vinyl, can you, please, shut up?” I ask. Normally I have nothing against filly scouts songs, but since Trixie’s wagon met its demise, we have to walk by hoof which pisses me to no end. Listening to the songs like “Filly Scout World”, “Bug Juice” or, to my horror, “I’m Thankful to be an Equestrian” doesn’t make it better. Not to mention that Vinyl’s singing voice is far from perfect – years of drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes made it sound a bit raspy. I’d never say that she’s actually younger than me.

“Hey, I always sing when I go on a hike,” she replies. “When I was a filly scout…”

I facehoof. “Vinyl, this is not a motherfucking hike, we need to get to Appleloosa before we run out of food!”

Actually, we don’t need to worry about that. Before we got officially fired, Inkie gave us enough food to survive a month, but anything is worth it to stop Vinyl from singing.

“Language, girl…” Vinyl mutters. “I don’t want to know what you do with your mother during the hikes…”

“You were a filly scout?” Trixie asks before I tell Vinyl to have an intercourse with herself.

“Yup. Cool times. Though later my brother screwed everything up…” Vinyl sighs. “I accidentally took his hashish cookies instead of the ones I was supposed to sell. The whole neighbourhood got high.”

Whoa Nelly. I can almost imagine eight-years-old Vinyl, an innocent, smiling little filly, trotting from house to house, selling cookies to the old mares. Mares who later went on a trip of their lives.

“And what did you do?” I ask her. I guess she panicked.

“I don’t know. We ate some of these cookies with Lyra and Bon Bon, then the humans came and put us in cages…” She shudders. “At least that’s what Lyra said. I remember something about The Fire Nation…”

Well, that explains many things. Something, however, bugs me. “And what Bon Bon remembers from that day?”

“She remembers freaking out and looking for someone to drag us, drooling and delirious, to the hospital. She didn’t eat as much as we did…”

“Trixie didn’t eat any hashish cookies,” Trixie says. “Trixie doesn’t need drugs to get high…”

“Yeah, we saw that yesterday…” I reply. “I guess it’s called ‘drunk with power’.”

“Maybe.” Trixie nods. “How about you, Minuette?”

Oh, how I hate that question. It always inevitably leads to me saying something I later regret.

“When I was a little, cheerful filly, my mom told me that drugs are bad. As I said, I was very cheerful so I couldn’t get why ponies take drugs to get happier. Then I grew up and became a teenager. I was less cheerful, more angry, I wrote angsty poetry, but I still remembered my mother’s words. Well, Berry Punch got me into alcoholism, but it quickly ended.” I pause to take a breath. I can see Vinyl and Trixie giving me worried looks.

“More exactly, it ended on the fateful night when Berry got knocked up, and I spent the whole evening bowing before the porcelain god before I passed out next to the clogged toilet. I realized that it could easily happen the other way round, so I stopped drinking and swore that I’d never ever have sex. Eleven months later I lost my virginity.” I look at Trixie and Vinyl, wondering if my story has any effect on them. Trixie’s eyes are wide in shock, while Vinyl smirks. Okay, time for the crazy part.

“It was fun at first, then I learned that most of the stallions don’t like when the mare is on the top.” I stare into Trixie’s eyes. She blushes heavily. “Meanwhile I grew up and got my first job as a watchmaker, just like my cutie mark was telling me.”

I make a pause, wondering about my lost innocence. It was so cute of me, thinking that I can do everything I want...

“Too bad, I didn’t make much money,” I continue. “Disappointment after disappointment, failure after failure… One oddjob, then the second… I wasn’t cheerful anymore, but I still remembered what my mother told me. Even when I started to drink again, just to forget. Even on that night when I wanted to just swallow my mother’s sleeping pills… And even now, when you two make me need a freaking drink…”

Silence. Thank you, I’m waiting for the round of applause.

“You have a wrong cutie mark…” Vinyl finally says. “You should’ve become a stand-up comedian…”

“Yeah, before my routine somepony would have to take from the audience all the things you can hang yourself on…” I chuckle. Bitterly, as always. I guess that’s how I roll.

We trot slowly down the dusty road. Our saddlebags are heavy – before we left the rock farm, we took some more money from the old mine. All we have are bits, food, the dead zebra’s sniper rifle and Vinyl’s shotgun and trench coat.

We also have a plan. We have some time before those two zebras get to Bacio della Morte to tell him that the three unarmed mares he wanted to catch are, in fact, two mares with guns and one who can get crazy enough to not need one. Before they do, we want to get to Appleloosa, catch a train to Dodge Junction, and, through Hayseed Swamps, get to Baltimare. Of course, we’re not gonna stay there, looking at the Horseshoe Bay. We want to board the first ship to the Griffon Empire we’ll find.

Of course, our plan has some flaws. For example, I don’t like the idea of going through the Hayseed Swamps. I don’t mind fires, chimeras or the settlement of hippies located there, but I’m afraid that either Vinyl will drown or I’ll drown her myself. That is, if she doesn’t stop singing.

Sombra has only got one ball,
Discord has two but they’re very small
Tirek has something similar,
But poor Chrysalis has no balls at all!

Okay, I guess it’s not a filly scout song.

“Trixie thinks this song makes no sense,” Trixie says. “Chrysalis is supposed to have no balls…”

“You never know with the changelings…” Vinyl replies. “Did I tell you how I woke up with a changeling in my bed? It was during Princess Cadance’s wedding...”

“If that story ends with you having some interspecies intercourse with that changeling, I don’t want to hear about it.” I wave my hoof.

“Interspecies intercourse, what an ugly word,” Vinyl mutters. “Besides, fucking a changeling? It’d be like fucking a multi-tool knife… Do you know that female changelings have holes everywhere except the place they’re supposed to be one? When a daddy changeling wants to fuck mommy changeling, he has to drill–”

“Vinyl, stop it, I’m begging you…” I facehoof.

Hmm, do you know that feeling when you’re aroused but at the same time you want to vomit? I’m experiencing something like that. Changelings and their habits are awful, but any mention of fucking a tool makes me moist. A little, but still. Not that I ever tried…

Okay, I once did it with a screwdriver handle. I preferred it over most of my coltfriends, though, I must say, some of them were tools. Definitely, not the sharpest ones in the shed.

Hell, I still like that screwdriver…

Eww! Why did I even tell you that? To stop thinking about that I ask, “What will we do once we get to the Griffon Empire?”

“We have money, we’ll be far away from home… I guess we’ll drink vodka and fuck bitches,” Vinyl replies.

So much for stopping thinking about sex. Conversations with Vinyl always look like that; you start with something innocent, like the weather, and end up discussing whether during a three-way it’s better to be on the top or in the middle.

Not that I’m complaining. After all, sex is a part of life, just like anything else. It would be weird if we didn’t talk about it at all. Though, on the other hoof, we don’t usually discuss our bowel movements…

“Hmm, can you see any bushes here?” Vinyl asks. “Those broccoli I ate kinda upset my stomach…”

“We’re still in the semi-arid area, so no bushes,” I reply. “You either have to hold it, or find some comfy group of rocks.”

“But it’s gonna rip my ass apart!” Tears appear in Vinyl’s eyes.

Oh yeah. Every time I say something like a moment ago, life – or specifically Vinyl – takes that as a challenge. You see, Vinyl doesn’t know that there are some things ponies shouldn’t be boasting about. She also doesn’t know that the size of the dump you’ve just taken is definitely one of them.

Well, it all stems from the fact that Vinyl is a hypochondriac. When she was with my brother, she once caught a cold. I made a mistake by leaving my copy of Mareison’s Principles of Internal Medicine in a place where she could put her hooves on it. When I came back home, she was lying on a sofa, preparing to die of a combination of cirrhosis, hypertension, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, kidney failure, retinoblastoma, age-related macular degeneration and testicular cancer. I had to explain to her that it’s unlikely to have retinoblastoma and AMD at the same time, she definitely doesn’t have cirrhosis (yet) and the closest to testicles she was when she’d given my brother a blowjob the night before. As I said before, our house has rather thin walls.

Unfortunately, the only real condition Vinyl has (and likes to ramble about) is irritable bowel syndrome. Anything can upset her stomach, especially when she’s stressed. My eating habits would probably kill her. You know, when I was working as an accountant in some corporation, I used to drink two coffees instead of eating breakfast. I stopped when I learned that if I got a peptic ulcer, it’d be cheaper to fire me than pay for the therapy.

Luckily, there’s a conveniently placed group of rocks next to the road, so Vinyl excuses us for a moment. Trixie and I wait for her, trying not to listen to the noises she’s making.

Suddenly, we see a large cloud of dust on the road, slowly approaching us.

Trixie looks at me. “Are you pondering what Trixie’s pondering?” she asks.

“Friends of our zebra friends? I hope not,” I reply. The only place we could hide is a group of rocks, but I’d rather face the whole army of thugs than step into Vinyl doing her business.

Meanwhile, the cloud of dust gets closer to us. We can now see the vehicle inside. It’s one of the weirdest things I’ve seen in my life and I’ve seen some really weird shit. Not only because I once worked as a washroom attendant.

Remember that pegasus kid with a scooter? The one who always tries to kill me? Well, it’s something like that. Except it’s bigger, looks more like a metal cart with tyres, and there are two ponies driving that thing. One of them, a pegasus mare, stands in the back, flapping her wings furiously to propel that thing forward. The other one is inside of the vehicle, sitting behind the steering wheel. Why’d pegasi use such a thing when they can fly? I have no idea.

The vehicle stops next to us. The mare behind the wheel takes off her sunglasses and looks at us. She’s violet and her white and blue mane is styled in a way suggesting that its owner likes those neighponese cartoons. The mare in the back is quite similar. Her mane is blue; she has a pink bow in it.

“Hello, girls,” says the pegasus behind the wheel. “Where are you going?”

“Baltimare,” Trixie replies before I can smack her. Who knows, maybe they want to put us in the trunk and dump us in the sea.

“We’re not going there,” says the pegasus. “But we can drive you to Appleloosa if you want. By the way, my name’s Cloudchaser, and this is Flitter.”

“Trixie,” Trixie introduces herself.

“Romana von Colgate,” I say. Trixie gives me a surprised look. Really, am I the only one who knows that you can’t use your real name when we’re running away from mafia?

“Your parents must hate you…” Flitter giggles. Some ponies just deserve a high five. In the face. With a chair.

“Don’t mind her…” Cloudchaser says. “Her parents hate her too…”

I’m not surprised, but anyway I ask, “Why so?”

“Her father disowned her when he learned that we’re together…” Cloudchaser leans to Flitter and kisses her cheek.

“Yeah, I know such ponies…” I nod, remembering Quartz. I wonder what’s Inkie doing now?

“I guess he wouldn’t be so pissed if he wasn’t your father too…” Flitter replies innocently.

Wait, what? Am I the only pony in Equestria who doesn’t have any weird kink? Well, scratch that. I have my set of kinks too, but I don’t fuck my brother. Actually, when I look at Flitter and Cloudchaser I start to notice how similar they are. Take Flitter, dye and restyle her mane, and you’ll have two Cloudchasers. Before I’m able to express my feelings about that, Vinyl emerges from behind the rocks.

“Hoo…” she says. “It was like a waterfall…” She looks at Flitter and Cloudchaser. “Shame on you, Minuette… I was gone for five minutes and you already found the girls…” She smiles widely. “Twins, no less…”

“Friend of yours?” Cloudchaser giggles, eyeing Vinyl curiously.

“Minuette?” Flitter asks.

“That’s my nickname,” I explain quickly. I guess if I were really called Romana von Colgate, I’d definitely use a nickname.

“So, are we going to stand here, or what?” Cloudchaser asks. “You three are going to Appleloosa, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply. Cloudchaser walks to the trunk in front of their vehicle and opens it. When we’re putting our saddlebags into it, I take a look inside. Better safe than sorry, you know. There are no guns there, but it doesn’t means that the sisters’ luggage is boring.

The trunk is full of toys. Not toys for little fillies – rubber and latex toys for adult ponies, the kind you prefer to have delivered instead of walking to the shop and ask for it. I even noticed some chains and a couple of whips.

I changed my mind about those two. They can screw each other as much as they like and how they like. Hell, maybe we’ll even become friends. B.B.D.S.M.F.F.

“Yeah, we’re into that,” Cloudchaser smiles, noticing my gaze. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “We’re a match made in heaven – I love to dominate, while Flitter loves being my little slave…”

Okay, I definitely have to talk to her and share our experience. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of it. There aren’t many stallions out there who like mares wearing uniforms and whipping them while yelling obscenities in Pferdisch.

“Wait,” Vinyl says. “Are you two really together?” Seems that someone is late to the party.

“Yes,” Flitter replies, stepping on the back of the vehicle while we take seats inside. “Twincest is wincest.”

Vinyl looks at her hopefully. “Would you like to–”

“No,” Flitter deadpans. Vinyl makes puppy eyes, but she doesn’t budge.

“You guys are all perverts,” Trixie says. That’s something new. So far she didn’t mind, but apparently four perverts per square metre is too much for her.

Vinyl is so confused by the rejection that she doesn’t react when I call shotgun. Actually, even if she did, I’m the one who has non-metaphorical shotgun in her saddlebags, so she can kiss my flank. I sit on my seat, next to Cloudchaser. There’s a dry spot on the upholstery, as if something spilled on it. Knowing the sisters, it could be something icky.

Eww! Trixie’s right. There are definitely too many perverts here.

Flitter flaps her wings and the vehicle slowly moves forward. As she gets into the rhythm, the whole thing accelerates. I look at the steering wheel and the mechanisms connecting it to the wheels. Its simplicity and effectiveness is fascinating. I could spend hours looking at it. Wind blows through our manes; the speed is hypnotizing.

“May I try to ride it?” I ask Cloudchaser.

“Only I can ride my sister,” she replies. In the back seat, Trixie groans.

“I meant the vehicle,” I say.

“Nope. You know, when I was a little filly, my father taught me a rule: you never lend anypony your cart, your guitar and your wife. I don’t play guitar, but the rule still applies.”

“I used to play guitar,” Vinyl says. “When I was a filly scout, I was always the one who was singing the songs.”

“Now I know why so many filly scouts are deaf…” Cloudchaser deadpans. “They never hear me yelling that I don’t want cookies…”

Vinyl’s ears droops. If I were Cloudchaser, I would sleep with one eye open at night – Vinyl believes that revenge is the dish best served cold.

“Where are you heading?” Trixie asks, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Hollow Shades,” Cloudchaser replies. She’s completely focused on driving.

“Where’s Hollow Shades?” Vinyl asks. “The name sounds interesting.”

“It’s an enchanted forest a bit northwest from Fillydelphia,” I explain. “There’s a town there, I think.”

“Trixie was there once,” Trixie says. “Some filly threw a mango at her.”

“And what did Trixie do?” Cloudchaser asks.

“Trixie caught it with her magic and threw it back. Then the filly caught it in mid-air with her fangs and ate it.”

“Fangs?” Vinyl asks. “Was she, like, a bat pony?”

Welcome to Equestria, Vinyl. Last time I checked, every kid knew that Hollow Shades is the enclave of bat ponies. Well, every kid that attended school. I tell her that, minus the school part. As much as I don’t like her, I don’t want Cloudchaser to make fun of her more.

“Cool,” Vinyl says. “I love bat ponies. They always party hard.”

“That’s why we’re going there,” Cloudchaser says. “Everything’s better with a small orgy…”

Okay, she had me at “orgy”. A quick look to the back of the vehicle confirms that not only me.

“Maybe we’ll go to Hollow Shades too?” Vinyl asks. “We can go to the Griffon Empire from Fillydelphia or Manehattan.”

I facehoof. There go our secret plans. On the other hoof, you know what they say about bat ponies…

“You’re going to the Griffon Empire?” Cloudchaser asks. “Why?”

Okay, improvisation time.

“Do you know how many gay griffons are discriminated because of their orientation?” I ask. “We are going there to support them and make the Griffonian government pass a bill about gay mar–”

“How are you going to protest?” Cloudchaser asks, interested. Seems that I’ll have to go with it.

“I don’t know yet… I think we’ll just write some slogans on our coats and run around the Emperor’s palace naked…”

Cloudchaser almost loses control over the vehicle. I guess she imagined us naked...

“Naked?” She exclaims. “You’re naked anyway…”

Or maybe not.

“Yes, but… We’ll be, like, more naked than usual…” I reply quickly. You know, one of my biggest fantasies is to shave Vinyl and make her run around like that. I’ll have plenty of time for that during the cruise.

Luckily, Cloudchaser doesn’t think about it too hard.

“Maybe we’ll go with you,” she says. “We have the trunk full of bondage gear; I wonder what will the Emperor say when he sees the rocking horse…”

I won’t lie to you: I have a very vivid imagination. When Cloudchaser mentions the rocking horse, it goes wild. If I were a pegasus, Cloudchaser wouldn’t be able to see the road because of my massive wingboner.

“Good idea,” Vinyl says in a voice suggesting that her hormones also went crazy. “In fact, we can all wear it. I can even let Minuette walk me on a leash. She likes it.”

“How do you know I like it?” I ask. I don’t remember telling her that.

“Remember that one time when your brother and I spent a night in your house? I accidentally found your porn stash.”

“You found my…” I turn to her. They’ll never find the body…

“Hey!” Cloudchaser shouts. “No fighting in the cart!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Vinyl exclaims. “I was looking for some duct tape and this friggin’ box fell on my head, so I took a look… Read some articles… Took a discount coupon for leather saddles…”

“I was looking for it later…” I pierce her with my gaze.

“I’m sorry… I don’t use this saddle anyway, so if you want…”

Suddenly Trixie makes a weird sound. Everypony look at her.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie suffers of motion sickness,” she says. “She’s trying not to tarnish the interior of the cart with her vomit, but the mental image of Vinyl clopping to Minuette’s porn isn’t helping her...”

“Hey, I wasn’t clopping!” Vinyl shouts.

“Yeah, right…” I deadpan. “I had to clean the carpet after I got rid of you…”

“I think that you’re missing the point here, girls…” Cloudchaser says when Trixie makes another sound suggesting that something great and powerful is on the way. “Flitter! We need to stop!”

She pushes the brake while Flitter ceases to flap her wings. When the vehicle stops, Trixie quickly opens the door and runs out of it, her body shaken by dry heave. We wait, watching her curiously. Nature is so fascinating.

Trixie also waits, panting heavily. Nothing. Finally, she raises her head, smiling sheepishly. “False alarm,” she says.

“Are you sure?” Cloudchaser asks. “It sometimes likes to come back…”

“I’m not surprised,” I say. “She had to sit next to Vinyl for so long… Everypony’s stomach would get upset.”

“Fuck you.” Vinyl glares at me angrily.

“With pleasure,” I reply, looking at Flitter, who stretches her hooves. After a long time of propelling the vehicle forward, she’s quite sweaty. As I said, I’m not a lesbian, but I like to watch...

“Hey!” she exclaims. “Can you stop looking at me like I’m a sexual object?”

Whoops. Apparently, I’m too obvious. She gives me a nasty look and turns away from me, so I can exactly see her rump. What a bloody tease.

“Sis,” she says. “Can we switch places? I’m tired.”

“Already?” Cloudchaser asks. “Also, last time I let you drive, you scratched the bumper…”

“Please…” Flitter makes puppy eyes. “Or I’m gonna fall asleep at night, unable to play with your bumpers…”

“Don’t you dare, slave,” Cloudchaser mutters through gritted teeth.

“Slave says: go and fuck yourself, sis.” Flitter smiles mischievously.

Cloudchaser thinks for a while. “Okay,” she says. “But tonight we’re doing the rocking horse.”

I think she’s too lenient. If I were Flitter’s mistress, she wouldn’t be able to sit down after snapping back at me like that. Maybe that’s the reason why no one wants to be my slave.

Flitter gets behind the wheel and prompts Cloudchaser to flap her wings. I don’t know much about the pegasi, but it seems to me that Cloudchaser is faster and stronger than her sister. Flitter is, on the other hoof, more reckless; the tyres screech when she takes narrow turns. I take a paper bag from my saddlebags and give it to Trixie, just in case. It doesn’t take long before she finds a good use for it. Luckily, Vinyl is sleeping. She can assess one’s health just by looking at their vomit.

“So… Flitter,” I say. Time to make some friends before Vinyl and Trixie will embarrass me forever. “You two are twins, right?”

Dunno if you noticed, but I’m terrible at smalltalk.

“Yup. ‘Chaser is five minutes older.” Flitter replies, still watching the road.

“Where did you get that thing?” I ask.

“Wild Fire’s Awesome Rides. They have a workshop in Vanhoover.”

Too bad Vanhoover is on the other side of Equestria. Now, when I have bits, I’d buy the most pimped-out one I could find. Possibly with a sexy pegasus to propel it forward.

“It must be fun to ride it…” I say.

“Can you stop talking?” Flitter gives me a nasty look. “If I make a scratch on it, my sis will not whip me…”

“Scratch? Somepony called?” Vinyl asks groggily. “Don’t worry, Flitty, I can whip you anytime…”

“Don’t even try…” Flitter says, turning her head to Vinyl. Not a good idea…

One of the wheels hits something. Flitter grabs the steering wheel and turns it violently. Luckily, we don’t roll over; instead, we skid to an abrupt halt. What’s worse, the contents of Trixie’s paper bag land on Vinyl.

“Flitter, what the fuck?” Cloudchaser yells from her stand, trying to be louder than Vinyl who’s currently telling Trixie that she’s a fucking mule. Kinda racist, if you ask me. You know, I’m half-unicorn, half-earth pony, half-Oatstralian, half-Equestrian and among my great-grandparents were a zebra, a bat pony, and a pegasus. It’d be stupid if I was racist or nationalist.

Such family is also a reason why I don’t want to have foals. With such genes I wouldn’t be surprised if I gave birth to a dragon. Which would ruin my cunt forever.

“I hit a motherfucking porcupine or something like that,” Flitter replies, pointing at the little pile of bones, guts and other things that generally should be inside of the body.

“I didn’t know there are porcupines here…” I say. What am I supposed to say in such a situation?

“Not anymore,” Flitter deadpans, giving me a look suggesting that she wouldn’t even flinch if I was in the place of that porcupine. I really prefer Cloudchaser. At least she wasn’t so creepy.

“Do you know that griffons eat porcupines?” Vinyl asks. “They are a delicacy…”

“There’s still some on the tire if you want to try,” I say.

“No, thanks. Who knows what was on that tire before…” Vinyl looks at the remains unsurely.

“Two cats, a pigeon, a snake and three foals. But they actually survived,” Flitter says innocently.

“And that’s why I don’t let you drive…” Cloudchaser sighs and rolls her eyes.

We go back to the car; this time I let Trixie take my seat. I’ve heard once that it’s better for ponies with motion sickness to seat in the front. What’s more, it makes Flitter slow down – she simply doesn’t want to get hit with Trixie’s stomach contents.

It’s evening when we get to Appleloosa. We barely enter the town, when Flitter has to brake hard – there’s some idiot standing in the middle of the road.

I must admit that he looks sexy. He has green eyes, yellow coat and mane like a fire. Yeah, the fact that I just said that shows fully my feelings towards him. He doesn’t even flinch when our vehicle stops inches from him.

“Welcome to Appleloosa!” he yells, waving at us.

“What the fuck?” Flitter mutters under her breath.

“Dunno,” Vinyl says. “Maybe he’s retarded. You know, like ponies from those small villages where they have to marry their cousins and siblings…”

Flitter and Cloudchaser glare daggers at her. If I were Vinyl, I wouldn’t sleep at night.

“Retarded or not, if it was possible, I’d turn straight for him,” Cloudchaser says, eyeing the stallion in front of us. He’s still smiling at us like an idiot. Very, very handsome idiot.

“I’m already turning straight for him,” Vinyl says.

“I am straight for him,” I say. “How about you, Trixie… Trixie?”

Trixie is not in the cart. She’s already next to the stallion, trying to hug him. Sweet Celestia, this isn’t happening!

“Hello, sweetheart…” Trixie purrs. Oh Celestia, it’s happening! “Do you want Trixie to show you some magic?” She smiles at him like a big, blue praying mantis.

“Umm… M-maybe we should… umm… get to know each other better?” he stammers.

“Oh, sure… The Great and Powerful Trixie.” She blinks, still trying to glomp him. “And now, tell the sexy Trixie what your name is…”

“Umm… Braeburn,” he replies. Braeburn, run for your life. Like, now.

“Sweet… So, Braeburn… Is there any place here where the Great and Powerful Trixie could have an intercourse with you?”

Way to go, girl! I lean to Flitter. “Can you do something? Like, run her over before she does something stupid?”

“With pleasure,” Flitter replies. “Sis, flap your wings!”

“But you’ll hit him too!” Vinyl shouts.

“Acceptable loses. Sis?”

Cloudchaser doesn’t propel the vehicle forward. Instead, she looks at the scene in front of us, barely containing laughter.

I look at Trixie and see that the situation changed. Poor Braeburn probably never heard the word “intercourse” in his life, so he ran away, leaving our magical friend in the dust. She charges her horn, aiming at him.

Time for intervention. I get out of the cart, run to her and smack her horn. Sometimes I just have to be brutal.

“Bad Trixie!” I yell. “No zapping stallions!”

“Ouch! What the–”

“No, no, no! I’m asking you ‘what the–?’! What were you thinking?”

“Umm… the Great and Powerful Trixie simply didn’t…You know. And your talks made her feel funny...” She blushes heavily.

“But why so aggressive?” I ask. “You wanted to eat him or what?”

“Umm… Too much?” She looks at me unsurely.

I sigh and roll my eyes. Apparently Trixie is used to the fact that what she wants she gets. Including the guys. And we apparently aren’t the best role models.

“Well, I can give you hoof lotion,” I say. “And since tomorrow I’ll give you some lesson how to approach a stallion without scaring him away. They don’t work, but at least you won’t be so creepy.”

Trixie only nods. I guess making her shut up is some kind of an achievement.

“Also, Braeburn is mine,” I say.

“No way in Tartarus! I called dibs on him!” I hear Vinyl’s voice behind me. Geez, girl. Don’t sneak on me like that, I know thirty two ways of putting a pencil through your brain stem.

“You called dibs on him? When?” I’m currently thinking about a way of putting a pencil through her brain stem. In fact, I know thirty three ways of doing that. I made them all up when I was a watchmaker and had annoying clients.

“It’s simple,” Vinyl says. “You called shotgun when we were riding that vehicle, I call dibs on the first sexy guy we meet. You gotta share, you gotta care, girl.”

“Vinyl, you swing both ways, so your list of potential partners is twice as long as mine, can you leave him to me, please?”

“Now that’s discrimination because of my orientation!” Vinyl exclaims.

“Exactly!” Flitter adds. “You’re oppressing us!”

“Shut up, you at least are getting laid tonight…” I say bitterly.

“And now you discriminate me, because I’m in a lasting relationship…”

“That’s not discrimination, she’s just jealous,” Vinyl says. “You’re gonna fuck your sister, I’m gonna fuck Braeburn, and she–”

“Now you discriminate us because we’re siblings,” Cloudchaser interrupts her.

I groan. “Shut up, all of you! No matter of race, gender, sexual orientation, preferences, favourite fetishes and your views on which Princess has better flank! Vinyl, you have a rare talent of turning all your allies against you. Trixie, you were first, you can go and ask Braeburn out. Just don’t scare him, okay? The rest definitely should stop thinking with our cunts. Any questions?”

“You said ‘cunt’...” Flitter says, smiling sheepishly. I really need to sharpen my pencil.

“That’s because I’m half-Oatstralian. Don’t discriminate me,” I reply calmly.

“Which Princess has better flank?” Vinyl asks. Or maybe I’ll just use a blunt pencil? It’ll hurt more.

“Luna. Anyone thinking otherwise can go and fu–”

“I think Cadance’s flank is better. She’s like, a thousand years younger. And I’m in her type,” Vinyl says.

“How do you know you’re in her type?” Cloudchaser asks.

“Have you seen her husband?”

“Okay, point taken. Though I doubt he’s that… umm… eccentric.” Cloudchaser chuckles.

Welcome to my world, girl.

“Trixie thinks Luna’s flank is the best,” Trixie says. “How about you, Flitter?”

“No butt like Sunbutt,” Flitter replies, yanking her tail. “How about you, sis?”

“I’m gonna be original and say Twilight Sparkle,” Cloudchaser replies. “She’s a sexy nerd with issues. I like girls with issues…” She hugs Flitter and kisses her cheek.

“Luna’s issues are better,” Trixie says. “Do you know what issues one can have after a thousand years on the Moon?”

“Sorry, I don’t like girls with issues that much…” Cloudchaser replies. “Also, when did it turn from discussion about discrimination to discussion about royal posteriors? You know, I can discuss them all the time, but not when I’m hungry.”

As she says that, I also feel my stomach grumble. Dealing with my companions requires lots of energy.

Luckily for us, Appleloosa isn’t a big town. Just a couple of wooden houses, sheriff’s office and a saloon called The Salt Block. The interior is welcoming. Well, after spending last couple of days on wandering through the desert, everything is welcoming. There are some patrons here, ponies and buffaloes; among them I can see Braeburn who cures himself from shock with large amounts of whisky. I sit next to him before Trixie can react. I guess if he sees her he’ll run away, so I’m gonna spare him this.

“Hello,” I say. Shit, I don’t remember how to pick up guys while sober. Time to improvise. “My name’s Minuette. I think we’ve met before…”

He looks in my general direction – whisky apparently kicked in. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently trying to form a coherent sentence.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “Ya were with that crazy unicorn…”

“Yeah, don’t mind her. She fell off the swaddling table when she was a foal. Since then she’s, like, not entirely normal. I, on the other hoof, am perfectly sane. I don’t try to seduce every guy I met, I don’t have thoughts about murdering everyone around and I certainly didn’t shove a screwdriver up my–”

“Can ya tell her to come here? Ah wanted to apologize for running away like that…”

Fuck. I’m certain I screwed something up. Really, Braeburn? You want to apologize to Trixie when I’m here, ready to be yours?

“Wait a minute…” I say. “Trixie!”

Trixie appears next to us as if she teleported. Maybe she did; her teleportation is like my ex’s boner – somepony, somewhere had seen it.

“Hi,” she says. “The Great and Powerful Trixie wants to apologize for her previous behaviour and she hopes that it won’t influence your decision whether to have sex with her or not.”

Braeburn gives me a panicked look. Sorry, mate, it was your decision. Deal with it.

“I’ll help Vinyl with our baggage,” I say. “Have fun, you two.”

The guest rooms are clean and cosy. As soon as Vinyl and I carry our saddlebags upstairs, I lay on one of the beds, trying to fall asleep before she starts to snore. Cloudchaser passes by, wishing us good night. I desperately try to fall asleep – you know, thin, wooden walls and two sisters in the rooms next to us, fucking like rabbits. Not a good connection. I’d rather be sleeping when it starts.

Not that I have a chance. Vinyl brings me supper – daffodil sandwich and a beer, weak as cat’s piss. I drink it quickly, hoping that it’ll help me go to sleep. Of course it doesn’t work; worse, I have to excuse myself to the toilet. When I’m back, Vinyl is sleeping, snoring like a motherfucking sawmill with hooves. Hooray.

I’m thinking about clopping myself to sleep, but it wouldn’t do. With Vinyl in the room, I can’t focus. What if she wakes up? Or what if Trixie comes back? No way, I’m not gonna embarrass myself like that. I know that it’s normal, even foals do that, but still… Eww. You know, my mom used to say that she’ll start to tie my hooves together for nights if she ever catches me clopping again. It didn’t exactly help, but I got into bondage.

Despite all my ponderings I must’ve fallen asleep, because when Vinyl wakes me up it’s long after midnight.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask groggily. She should be happy it’s dark – I can’t kick her in the face.

“You’ll see yourself,” she replies giggling like a foal who just came up with the best prank in their life.

I get out of bed. From behind the wall I can hear… Well, to put it bluntly, I can hear Flitter and Cloudchaser fucking. Flitter is loud. I never thought she can raise her voice that much. Though anyone who can make that bitch scream like that deserves a medal. Way to go, ‘Chaser.

“Can you hear that?” Vinyl asks.

“Yeah, porn for blind ponies. Did you wake me up to ask me that question?”

“Nope. Look at this.” She points at the window. Behind it there’s a large tree. Its branches reach the window of the neighbouring room… “We can climb there and–”

“No way! We’re not gonna go there and watch them having–” Before I can finish, Vinyl opens the window and jumps on the branch. Then she slowly crawls towards the trunk.

“I’m so gonna regret this…” I mutter, following her. The branches next to the window of Flitter and Cloudchaser’s room are thinner, but Vinyl doesn’t mind. She sits there and stares at the window in awe. Her hoof slowly wanders south.

“Vinyl, don’t do that…” I say.

“Why not? You can make yourself comfortable too. It won’t be so awkward if we both clop…” she replies. I thank Luna for the fact that I can’t see her well in the darkness. Such view could scar my poor mind forever.

“I’m not talking about that I wanted to say–”

“Aaargh!”

Thud!

“–that if you don’t hold the branch you can fall off that tree…” I finish in an emotionless tone. Seriously, what did I expect? “Vinyl, are you okay?”

“My hoof!” I hear from the ground. “I broke my fucking hoof! What will I do now?”

“You’re gonna wank yourself with the other one…” I mutter, sliding off a tree. I land on the ground and I see her, cowering next to the trunk, hissing and cursing.

“Can you walk?” I ask. “I guess there’s a doctor somewhere here…”

You know, I once wanted to be a nurse, but I ditched this idea after I realised that it’s less about sexy uniforms and more about dealing with ponies who have problems with going to the toilet. Or dealing with ponies in general. Anyway, my attempts to fix Vinyl’s hoof myself would probably end in getting it amputated.

“I think I’ve seen a doctor’s office when we arrived here,” Vinyl says. She tries to stand and winces.

“Wait for me, I’ll get the money and we’ll find it,” I say. Then I quickly go upstairs, take my saddlebags and go back to her.

It takes us a while before we find a house with a large board saying “Dr. Quinn, Medicine Mare” over the door. I tell Vinyl to sit down and knock on the door. After a few minutes it opens and a mare in her forties with red, braided mane, probably Dr. Quinn herself, appears.

“Something happened?” she asks.

I point at Vinyl. “My friend had an accident,” I explain. The doctor gestures us inside and examines Vinyl’s hoof carefully.

“Do I need to get an injection?” Vinyl asks, watching the doctor unsurely. “I’m scared of injections…”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll be needed…” Doctor Quinn says. “Though, if it’s broken, you’ll have to get heparin injections every day. But it’s easy, you can do it yourself…”

“M-myself? Never…” Vinyl shots panicked looks at the door and the windows. I guess she wouldn’t run away too far on three legs, but still I’d rather warn the doctor.

“You’d better prepare ‘brave patient’ stickers,” I say. “She’s rather difficult when it comes to visiting the doctor…”

Trust me, I know what I’m saying. When she was with my brother, we once partied too hard and ended up on the ER. I took the rabies vaccine with dignity, but Vinyl was making trouble. The doctor who was supposed to sew her forehead got kicked in the nuts and the rest of the staff spent half of the night trying to find Vinyl. Finally, they managed to lure her out of the ventilation duct with candies and ‘brave patient’ stickers.

“Don’t worry, I have lots of experience with foals,” the doctor says. “Even the big ones.” She turns to Vinyl, “If you don’t want to inject heparin yourself, your friend will surely help you.”

Can you hear that sound? It’s my inner sadist cheering upon the news that soon I’ll give subcutaneous injections to Vinyl. Hey, a needle can always slip…

Vinyl probably has similar thoughts. She’s unnaturally silent when the doctor helps her walk to an x-ray machine.

“It seems that it’s just a sprain,” the doctor says after a few minutes. Vinyl sighs with relief. “Still, I’ll have to dress it. And, of course, heparin will be needed.”

“Fuck…” Vinyl mutters.

“If we don’t do that, the blood clots can flow to your lungs or brain and kill you,” I say. You know, I always liked medical textbooks. There are so many things that can go wrong…

“Blood clots?” Vinyl looks at her hoof as if it suddenly got a life on its own. “I don’t wanna die…”

“Don’t worry, I can give those injections to you…” I try to cheer her up. “Of course, there’s a chance that you overdose heparin and bleed out, but–”

Vinyl faints. Maybe it’s good that I didn’t become a nurse. My bedside manners suck.

While Vinyl regains consciousness, the doctor gives me a short lecture about not scarring the patients mentally. Then she finishes bandaging Vinyl’s hoof and tasks me with carrying her home. Just great.

Luckily, Vinyl isn’t heavy. She consists mostly of bones, skin, sorry remains of lungs, cunt, stomach and brain. The last three organs battle constantly for control over her body. Unfortunately, the brain is losing badly.

Finally we get to the saloon. I can’t carry Vinyl upstairs myself, so I walk to our room to get Trixie or, if she’s still with Braeburn, Flitter and Cloudchaser to help me.

Apparently, the little session of sisterly bonding ended up in the corridor because the first thing I notice after climbing up the flight of stairs is a white and blue sock lying on the floor. I want to go to our room, but then I see that the door is open – and I remember locking it.

Well, it can be Trixie. But it can be della Morte’s guys as well. Who knows what he has in store for us. Griffon assassins? Neighponese knife nuts? Psychotic ex-pornstar who suffocates her victims with her teats?

Too bad I didn’t take a shotgun. Though, actually, I’m not a fan of “shoot first, then try to ask questions” tactics. I much prefer “hit ‘em right between the eyes and then ask questions”.

I pick up the sock, trying not to think who was wearing it, and where it could be stuck. Luckily, it’s dry. Then I take some bits from my saddlebags and put them in it, making a provisional baton – also known as “blackjack” or “Detrot Sleeping Pill”.

As quietly as I can, I creep to our room. It’s dark, but I can see the silhouette lurking in the shadows. Luckily, the intruder is looking through the window, so I remain unseen. I can see that it’s an earth pony, so it’s definitely not Trixie. When I’m close to the unknown pony, I stand on my hind legs, swinging the baton.

“Say ‘goodnight’, motherfucker,” I mutter through gritted teeth. With a bling of the coins, my makeshift weapon lands on the pony’s head.

Shit. This fuck’s skull must be made of titanium, because he (or she?) doesn’t even flinch. Worse, he bucks blindly, and since I’m still standing on my hind legs, the kick lands on my stomach.

Fuck! My vision darkens when I roll on the floor. I didn’t lose my supper only because my body couldn’t decide whether I should vomit or shit myself. Holy crap, it hurts! Whoever is here, they kick like a steam hammer. I really hope I don’t have ruptured spleen. Though, if it’s one of della Morte’s thugs, this will soon be the least of my problems.

“Minuette?” The voice is definitely familiar.

“Inkie?” I ask as soon as I regain an ability to breathe. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you,” she replies, blushing. “Are you okay?”

Yes, I’m okay. My guts are still inside, so I’ll live. However, there are still some “What? Why? Did your parents let you…?”

“Well…” She looks down at her hooves. “I… I hoped that you’ll show me the world… and everything… So I ran away from home...”

Just great. Okay, kids, time for a tired movie cliche number 79:

“It’s not a good idea…” I say, trying to sound as dramatic as I can, despite my stomach yelling at me, protesting against mistreating it. “You’ve seen those zebras… The guy who we pissed off will probably send more of them. Being with us is dangerous. It’s practically a death sentence…”

“I’m not afraid,” Inkie replies. “I can defend myself.”

Yeah. My stomach knows something about that. Also, those tired movie cliches never work.

“It’s a bad idea,” I continue. “Who knows where we’ll go? We want to go to the Griffon Empire…”

“Cool…” Inkie smiles.

“Your parents will worry about you…”

“Meh. When Pinkie ran away…”

Seems that my arguments are just as effective as my makeshift baton. I guess even if I tied her and sent her home in a cardboard box, she’d come back.

“Okay…” I say, defeated. “But first, help me carry Vinyl upstairs…”

“Oh! Did something happen to her?” Inkie asks in a worried tone.

“Yeah, she had a sudden attack of stupidity… Nothing serious, she’s used to that.”

When we walk downstairs, first thing we see is Vinyl, running (sic!) to us, her eyes wide in fear.

“Help me!” she yells.

“Mafia?” I ask. Fuck, I left my baton in the room. Shotgun and sniper rifle are there too.

“Worse…” Vinyl replies, pointing somewhere behind. “I only asked her how the date with Braeburn was…”

We don’t have to come closer, we can hear everything perfectly from here. A raspy, lust and alcohol filled voice.

“Don’t even *hic!* mention this… this faggot in The Great and *hic!* P-powerful Trixie’s presence! He *hic!* is not worth *hic!*... not worrrth...”

“Not worth what?” I ask. Once again, life proves that curiosity killed the cat.

“NOT WORTH MENTIONING ON THE CARDS OF HISTORY!!!” Trixie yells, but her voice quickly degrades into sobbing and slurring. “Thith… this son of a skunk and j-jackal hhhassss a *hic!* set of *hic!* moral rules…”

“What?” I’m not sure if I should be angry or amused. If he took advantage of her, it’d be clear, but it seems that the situation is far more complicated.

“H-he *hic!* t-talked to The Great and Powerful Trixie a-and it w-was *hic!* fun and all, t-then we, like, went to h-his home and T-trixie was *hic!* all h-horny and stuff, b-but… *hic!* he said that he c-can’t… *hic!* he can’t…”

“Fuck?” Vinyl prompts. Inkie’s face turns red faster than the traffic lights in Manehattan.

“YES!” Trixie runs to us and grabs Vinyl, shaking her rather brutally. “HE DIDN’T WANT TO FUCK TRIXIE BECAUSE HE SAID THAT HE’D HAVE TO MARRY THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE FIRST!”

Suddenly, everything goes quiet. The only sound now is chirping of the crickets and the sound of three hooves slamming into their respective owners’ foreheads.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, trying my best to contain laughter. “Teleport him to Las Pegasus, marry him and let him enter the Great and Powerful Cu–” I take a quick look at Inkie. We’re not gonna spoil the girl. “–marehood.”

“Trixie *hic!* tried…” Her tone suggests that she’ll soon conjure a guitar and sing a blues song. “Trixie even used *hic!* her magic to… umm…”

Oh yeah. Unicorns can generally be divided into two groups: those who used their magic to pleasure themselves or their partners and those who say that they didn’t.

“And what did he do?” Inkie asks. Seems that before we “show her the world”, she wants to take some notes.

“He… *hic!* ran away… So T-trixie decided to have a drink… then *hic!* two… ”

“Then seven…” Vinyl deadpans.

“Ten,” Trixie replies. She staggers a bit and rests herself against the wall.

“Okay, Inkie,” I say. “Help Trixie with the stairs, I’ll carry Vinyl.”

Together, we manage to get to our room. Vinyl and Trixie fall asleep almost immediately afterwards – not surprising since one of them is drunk and the other survived a triathlon consisting of climbing up a tree, masturbation and running on three hooves.

This leaves one problem: there’s now four of us, and we have only three beds in our room. The floor is hard and cold and I can’t let Inkie sleep in Trixie’s or Vinyl’s bed; Vinyl needs place to stretch her sprained hoof, and drunk Trixie is like a ticking pipe bomb.

“So… May I sleep with you tonight?” Inkie asks, smiling sheepishly.

I sigh heavily. “Okay,” I say. “But you know what they say about sleeping with unicorns?”

“What?”

“You may wake up with an unwanted piercing…” I laugh.

“Cool! I always wanted to have a piercing…” Inkie smiles. Damn it, she doesn’t even know those old jokes… Really, living on the rock farm must be awful.

“Nevermind,” I say. “Unicorns’ horns aren’t that sharp anyway…” Yeah, unless someone sharpens them on purpose. I used to do that when I was young and edgy. Berry Punch still has a scar, but I’m not gonna tell you where.

“Too bad,” Inkie mutters while we try to fit ourselves in my bed. “Goodnight, Minuette.”

“Goodnight, Inkie…”

“It seems that you had a fun night.” Cloudchaser laughs when she sees us. I can barely walk. Two ponies sleeping together in one bed might be cute, but it’s horribly uncomfortable. Especially when the bed is small and Inkie is a cuddler. Vinyl limps with her bandaged hoof, and Trixie has a terrible hangover.

“Well, it was kinda hard to fall asleep with you two behind the wall…” I mutter. Unlike us, both sister look fresh like a morning breeze.

“Are they… like me?” Inkie whispers into my ear. Welcome to the world, girl.

“Yes,” I reply as quietly as I can. “But they’re also sisters, which isn’t widely accepted.”

Inkie nods and gets lost in her thoughts, probably pondering which of her sisters she should ask out. When you think about it, Maud could be hell of a dominatrix…

“Who is she?” Flitter asks, pointing at Inkie with her wing.

“An old friend of mine,” I reply. “She wants to protest in the Griffon Empire too.”

“I’m not gonna power the vehicle with five ponies inside,” Flitter says, frowning.

“But you will...” Cloudchaser grins at her. “You should definitely work on your wingpower, sis…” She pats Flitter’s wings and kisses her.

“And if you don’t, ‘Chaser will make you squeal more than yesterday…” Vinyl adds. Flitter shots her a nasty glare, but she can’t do anything else – judging by the spark in Cloudchaser’s eyes, she likes Vinyl’s idea.

“Okay, girls, time to go,” Cloudchaser says. “Next stop: Hollow Shades!”

Author's Notes:

A piece of inspiration for the rocking horse...