“So, if what you say is true, we’re quarter of the planet away from there,” Daring Do says, looking at me as if I was indeed brain-damaged. “We’d better get going, then.” She walks down the corridor.

“Wait.” Inkie stands up and looks at the ancient tomb’s ceiling. “How do you know how to get back to the entrance? We’ve been chased by mummies and ended up in the room with that weird geometry-thingy.”

“Spatial intelligence of a pegasus,” Daring Do replies. “Do you know that before pegasi learned to control the weather on a large scale, large flocks of them flown to Zebrica before every winter? They had to navigate somehow.”

“Yeah, but we’re underground,” Inkie mutters.

“Oh, come on.” Ruby rolls her eyes. I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t exactly do that in the way Berry does it. In fact, she’s more similar to me in that matter. “I can feel the way with my snake senses. She’s right.”

“Wait… You’re not a snake…” Vinyl looks at Ruby unsurely, as if she was looking for some snake parts of her.

“But I was for a moment,” Ruby replies and turns to Inkie. “Also, those stones here don’t tell you the way?”

“No,” Inkie replies, patting the nearby wall and listening to the sound it made. “But they do tell the history of this place.” She scratches the surface and licks her hoof. “Somepony leaned against it just before being taken from here and mummified. But that was a long time ago.”

“So we should really go,” I say. “Unless you want to be mummified too and left here to fight the next guys who discover this place.”

“That’d be pretty cool.” Vinyl chuckles. “With the tricks we know, no one would get here. Though I must say that mummifying Trixie would take a while.”

“The Great and Powerful Trixie shall mummify your ass if you don’t shut up,” Trixie deadpans, trotting after Daring Do. We go with them, hoping that Daring really can find the way across those corridors. I don’t feel well here, especially after I learned that I impregnated my two friends. I don’t even have anyone with similar experiences to talk to.

“When Trixie gets out of here, she’ll tell her griffons to make a glorious supper.” Trixie says. “That is, before we get to the South Pole.”

“It may be a breakfast by then,” I say.

“Hey, what if we actually spent a thousand years down there?” Ruby asks. “When we get out, we’ll find out that all our relatives died in a magical war and the planet is now ruled by a group of intelligent pandas living in crystal spires and wearing togas?”

“No shit, kid,” Vinyl says. “Have you ever seen an intelligent panda? They can’t even fuck.”

“When the Great and Powerful Trixie becomes the griffon princess, she’ll build a crystal spire.” Trixie raises her head proudly. “And you will look at it and despair.”

“It seems that the griffons fucked their great and powerful princess over,” Daring Do mutters, pointing at the ceiling. There’s the opening we walked here through there, but now there’s an enormous boulder lying on it, sealing it completely. I guess we’re trapped.

“What the–” Trixie’s eyes light up. “HOW DID THEY DARE TO TRAP THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE?”

“You’d better move a bit,” I mutter to Daring Do. “Last time it happened she nearly tore the rock farm apart.”

“Yeah, and it was my rock farm,” Inkie whispers, running away from Trixie.

Waves of arcane energy flow around Trixie, charging her horn. Finally, she unleashes a monstrous, blinding spell that flows through the air and hits the rock.

A few grains of sand fall on our heads. The rock is still there.

“Fuck!” Trixie yells, foaming at the mouth and stomping her hoof against the floor, cracking it. “How did those fucking curs dare to fucking bring that fucking piece of fucking rock and trap their Great and Fucking Powerful Mistress in this fucking dun–” She’s rather rudely interrupted by Inkie who punches her in the back of the head, knocking her out cold.

“I’m sorry.” Inkie blushes. “I just couldn’t listen to her.”

“Yeah, she was repeating herself too friggin’ much,” Ruby mutters.

I point at the rock. “This doesn’t change the fact that the rock is still there. And if the spell didn’t bring it down, I don’t know what can.”

“You can teleport out of here,” Vinyl says. “Then you’d bring us all with you.”

“You’re right.” I focus my magic, imagining the desert outside. Then I disappear in the vortex of time and space. It feels kinda like being pushed through a narrow pipe, but you can get used to that.

I open my eyes. Unfortunately, this time the pipe is bent and I appear exactly in the place I was before. What the hell? Is this tomb magical? Well, considering all the things that happened to us here, it probably is.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Any other ideas?”

“If I could go up there, maybe I’d be able to crush it,” Inkie says. “It may be magic-proof, but no rock is Pie-proof.”

“I’m afraid you’re too heavy for levitation,” Vinyl replies. “Well, not as heavy as Trixie, but still…”

“The Great and Concussed Trixie heard that remark,” Trixie mutters from the ground.

“Vinyl doesn’t give a fuck about what Trixie hears,” Vinyl replies. A moment later, a magic blast burns off some fur from her hoof. “Okay, I’ll start now.”

“Maybe I could lift you,” Daring Do looks at Inkie. “In fact, why don’t we try. It’s better than sitting here and waiting for the Pale Horse to come.”

“Meanwhile we can tell ghost stories,” Vinyl says, watching as Daring Do grabs Inkie. “Like, Pale Horse. As you know, it’s a pale pony skeleton who has a scythe as his cutie mark–”

“How can he have a cutie mark when he’s a skeleton?” Ruby asks. Behind her, Daring Do takes off, sweating and panting. Inkie looks at the ground unsurely, holding her with all her might. Hmm, maybe even a bit too tight.

“That’s what’s weird about him,” Vinyl says. “He has a cutie mark despite being a skeleton. He’s on the road all the time, sweeping the souls of dead ponies…”

“Mom says dead ponies go across the river in a boat rowed by a silent seapony,” Ruby mutters.

“But someone has to bring them to that river, right?” Vinyl rolls her eyes.

THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I DO.

“Yeah, thanks for support, mate,” Vinyl turns to whoever said that. I didn’t exactly pay attention, watching Inkie and Daring Do. They’re currently just below the ceiling and Inkie is examining the rock, patting it with her hoof.

“Okay,” Inkie says and gives the rock a powerful kick.

Well, she does manage to break some shards of the rock off. Unfortunately, as we all remember from physics, the Neighton’s third law of motion says that to every action there is always an equal reaction. Given the difference in mass between the rock and Inkie, it means that Daring and Inkie are pushed backwards, at the nearby wall.

“My spine!” Daring shouts when they hit the wall. Then they slide down, dropping on the ground in a rather unfabulous manner.

“Few more kicks and I’ll crush it,” Inkie says, standing up and cleaning dust off her coat.

“The rock or my spine?” Daring Do moans.

“If you brake with your wings, it won’t throw us back that much,” Inkie replies.

“Yeah, I’ll break my wings instead.” Daring Do stands up slowly and straightens her wings. “They’re not as good as they used to be. They don’t stand a chance against you. You could probably push a train engine with that kick.”

“Why?” Inkie asks. “A train engine once got broken near our farm. I lifted it and put it next to the tracks so another train would pass.”

Daring Do raises her eyebrows and nods in silence, apparently struck by this image. She doesn’t even protest when Inkie walks to her. They just take off and fly to the rock again.

“Ten bits that Inkie will break her spine now,” Vinyl says.

“Wing,” I reply. “Both of them.”

“Tailbone,” Ruby mutters. Trixie groans something that sounds like “cunt” to me, but I’m not sure if she’s betting or just still pissed.

This time, Inkie punches the rock even stronger, causing a large piece of it to fall and smash on the floor not far away from us. A shard of rock flies next to my face and hits the wall.

“Daring, you okay there?” I ask, trying to see anything through the clouds of dust.

“Me cago en tu puta madre!” Daring Do yells. “I broke my coño!”

Well, that’s not a word I’m familiar with. “You broke what?”

“Cunt,” Ruby says. “Diamante taught me that word.”

“I’ll have to have a talk with Inmundo Rico once I get to Mexicolt again,” I say.

“Of course, daddy.” Ruby rolls her eyes.

“Hey, it means that Trixie won!” Vinyl exclaims. “Trixie, once we get out of here, I’m gonna give you ten bits!”

“Shove them up your ass and fart them out,” Trixie mutters, still not getting up from the ground.

“Does anyone care about the fact that Inkie used my privates as a springboard?” Daring Do asks, moaning in pain. When dust falls, I see her lying on her side while Inkie stands nearby, giving her a worried look.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Inkie whispers, hiding her face behind her mane.

“Not helpful,” Daring Do whispers. “And now I can’t fly.”

“We’ll wait,” I say, looking at the rock. “It won’t last much more. One or two kicks and it’ll be gone. The mummies didn’t show up yet, so I guess we have time before we start getting hungry or thirsty.”

Suddenly, I hear a monstrous hiss coming from the depths of the dungeon. It chills me to the bone and I have a feeling that it’s getting closer.

“Did anyone mention mummies?” Ruby stands up and grabs her BB gun.

“Okay, Daring, you’d better get up faster,” Vinyl mutters. “That, or we’d better all try to levitate Inkie.”

Since Daring Do shows us her middle feather, we all get up to try the levitation thing. Turns out, it’s not that hard; Trixie and I can do that even without the help of Ruby and Vinyl, but the real problem starts when Inkie tries to kick the rock. I immediately feel strain in my horn when my magic has to deal with the reaction. Trixie has it even worse – she screams and cancels her magic, grabbing her temples.

“Aargh!” Inkie screams, hanging upside-down, with my magic holding her hind leg. It takes a while before Vinyl and Ruby rush to help me support her.

“You shouldn’t have hit Trixie,” Trixie mutters, rubbing her head. “Trixie can’t magic now.”

“Fuck,” Ruby mutters, sweating heavily while trying to focus her magic on Inkie and levitate her higher. “This is harder than I thought…”

Before anyone can reply, we suddenly hear a loud thump, as if someone hit a rock with their hoof. I look at Inkie, but there’s no way it was her. She’s far too low.

Another hit and the rock falls apart, debris smashing against the floor below right after we levitate Inkie out of the way. Did the griffons come back or what?

Our questions are answered when first rays of the sun fall into the dungeon. Soon, they’re obscured by a pony’s head.

“Hello, guys,” Hexie says. “You can be heard a mile away with your yelling!”

“Get us out of here!” I shout. “Hungry undead mummies are coming to get us!”

“Interestingly, that’s not the weirdest thing I’ve heard today,” Hexie mutters, retreating from the opening. Soon, she throws a rope to us.

Maybe you’d like to hear a bloodcurdling story about how we’ve barely gotten out, chased by the mummies which started to climb behind us. No chance. We just got out before any of them showed up. In the meantime it turned out that Daring Do still can fly. That cheating bastard.

Finally, we are all out. Hexie closes the opening in the ground with a stone tablet—all that’s left from the rock—and we get out of the hole the griffons had dug. As soon as I’m on the surface, I’m welcomed by an unusual sight – Lale Agha is lying next to the plane, his clothes torn and his beak and wings tied with duct tape.

“What the hell?” I ask.

Hexie chuckles. “Long story… Generally, I spent two weeks repairing the plane–”

“Two weeks?” I ask. “We haven’t been down there for longer than a day…”

“Time flows differently in magical places,” Daring Do says. “I’m pretty sure I lost at least a year from my life in an ancient tomb next to Gelding Grotto…”

“I guess ponies lose not only time there,” Vinyl deadpans.

“Anyway,” Hexie says. “I finally put the plane together and went to find you. I’m like, flying south, enjoying the sun and loneliness… Because you know, Lyra took a ship to Neightaly or somewhere with Bon Bon... “ She clears her throat. “So, you know, a glass of whisky, a cigarette…”

“No smoking in the cockpit,” I mutter. “How many times I have to tell you about that?”

“Sorry, boss…” Hexie smiles sheepishly. “So yeah, I’m flying, enjoying myself and suddenly I see this Trixie’s Flying Brothel heading up north. So I, like, turn on the radio to say those guys ‘hello’ and ask if you’re aboard.” She nods and points at Lale Agha. “There was no reply, but ten tutaj skurwiel, cipa, obezjajec... I mean, this here gentlecolt tried to shoot me with the biggest fucking blunderbuss I’ve ever seen in my life.” She points at the circular hole in the middle of the windshield. “And I just repaired those windows, you know, so I was righteously pissed.”

“So, what did you do?” Trixie asks, her face pale.

“As you know, I’m learning from my experiences,” Hexie says. “Our little adventure in Zebrica taught me that it’s better to have a proper answer ready.” She walks to the plane. Through the windshield I can see how she enters the cockpit and reaches to the ceiling, lowering old-fashioned iron sights – just a set of concentric rings with a cross in the middle. Simultaneously, two small hatches in the nose of the plane open, revealing the barrels of two guns. I look closer at them. Damn. At least two centimetres in diameter. Not bad.

“Where did you get those?” I ask when Hexie gets out of the plane.

“In the bazaar, of course.” Hexie shrugs. “Second gun for half a price and they gave me a good discount on two ammo drums. Though I have only a half of each now, after I issued a five seconds-long warning burst.”

“You shot a half of each magazine to shoot in the air?” Vinyl exclaims.

“I never said it was the air.” Hexie asks. “I issued a warning shot in their balloon. After they made an emergency landing, I contacted them on the radio and asked them to explain the whole situation.” She walks to Lale Agha and kicks him. “All they gave me was this wanker.”

“Well…” I say. “You know it’s gonna be hard for us to get across any border now? I get shotgun and my rifle, but those cannons…”

“Bramini na wojnie, tylko spokojnie. That’s why they can be hidden,” Hexie replies. “Though getting the ammo may be difficult.” She shrugs. “Anyway, you’d better listen to what this dude has to say.” She walks to Lale Agha and rips the tape off his beak. “Te, bezjajcew! Gadaj cożeś odjebał, albo tak ci piznę, że w powietrzu z głodu umrzesz.”

I’m not sure if Lale Agha understood her words, but he definitely understood the intention, especially since it was supported by a smack to the ear. He clears his throat and shudders before speaking.

“Well, before leaving with you, I got instructions from Sehzade Galip.” He looks at Trixie, but quickly turns his gaze away. “Sehzade thinks getting into a relationship with someone his parents don’t approve wouldn’t be wise, especially since, to quote his words, Sultan is an old prick who’d garrote him for farting in the wrong direction.” He points at Trixie. “So, as you may imagine, she had to go.”

“So, that’s why you left us in this dungeon to starve?” I ask. “Couldn’t you, you know, just ask?”

“I can admit that I may have gotten a little bit carried away…” Lale Agha smiles sheepishly.

Hexie looks at the griffon and sighs. “Mam mu sprzedać gonga w ryj?” Seeing our expressions, she chuckles and says, “Should I sell him a gong to the snout?”

“That’s how it’s called in Ponyland?” Vinyl asks.

“Well, there’s a variety of–”

“Wait.” By Trixie’s calm and collected tone I can tell that someone is about to be murdered. “Are you trying to tell Trixie that this…” She shudders suddenly. “THAT THIS WANKER TRIED TO KILL TRIXIE?!” She fires a blast of magic at the sand in front of Lale Agha, hot enough to change it into glass. She fires another one, but Inkie tackles her, redirecting her horn in such a way that the bolt hits the river, causing steam to rise, along with some dead fish.

“Let Trixie go!” Trixie yells. “Trixie’s gonna buy her own country, train an army, and invade the Trottoman Empire just to lock this bloody prince in a crate and throw him in the river!”

“Hold her,” Daring Do mutters, backpedalling from Trixie, who’s foaming at her mouth, trying to bite Inkie. Someone knows where can I get rabies treatment here? I don’t wanna lose my second pilot.

“Release Trixie!” Trixie yells. “Trixie’s gonna–” Inkie puts her hoof over her mouth, which doesn’t mean that she stops talking. It’s just muffled.

“He already doesn’t have them.” Vinyl walks to Lale Agha and rips the tape off his wings. “We got this, dude,” she says and points at the north. “Trottoman Empire is somewhere there, but you can’t get away with nothing. You have ten seconds before we release Trixie.”

Lale Agha takes off, flapping his wings as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for him, his flying abilities are less than stellar. Maybe it’s a lack of some organs, or maybe the fact that the dude is rather pudgy. Anyway, once Trixie is released, she lets out a powerful roar and charges, firing a spell into the air. It blinds us all for a moment, but I can hear something hitting the ground.

When I open my eyes, I see a figure of a frog, made of jadeite, lying on the dune not far away from us. I levitate it and carry back to us.

“Wow.” Ruby smirks. “What a ribbiting spell.” She looks at the figurine. “The guy was always a bit jaded. Or so I’ve been toad.”

“Ruby, please…” I turn to Trixie. “What the hell did you do?”

“Trixie couldn’t decide whether to turn him into a frog or into stone,” Trixie replies. “This didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“I see. What are we supposed to do with him now?” I ask. “Put him on the dashboard as an ornament?”

“That’d be kinda unethical.” Daring Do looks at the frog. “I mean, I’ve been turned into stone once and it’s not pleasant. Especially if you were about to pee and then you’re stuck with a full bladder for a week.”

“Ask Celestia about Discord,” Vinyl says. “Also, that’s weird. When I get that stoned, I usually wake up covered in–”

“We don’t want to know that detail, thank you.” Inkie shudders. I say nothing, since it’s kinda relevant to my interest. Don’t ask.

“Anyway.” Daring Do turns to the jade frog. “Never pee in abandoned temples, since they may not be as abandoned as you think. Let’s leave it at that. The thing is, what are we gonna do with that guy?”

“Throw him into the river,” Hexie replies. “In a thousand years someone will find him and he’ll tell them stories about our times.”

“Well, if a princess kisses him, he’ll get back to the griffon form,” Trixie says.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, it’s a good thing we travel with a whole motherfucking harem of princesses. On a side note, I think Princess Flurry Heart is gonna be two soon. We can always mail him to her. Kids this age usually put stuff in their mouths.”

“How about the princess of music?” Vinyl asks.

“No, Rara is not here either,” Ruby mutters.

“Nah, she was just the countess,” Vinyl replies. “Guess who made her beats back when she used them.” She levitates the frog and kisses it. A magic blast throws us back, leaving a very confused Lale Agha sitting in the middle of our circle.

“See?” Vinyl chuckles. “I’m a princess, bitches! Where are my wings?”

“There are small ones in your ass,” I reply. “That’s why the shit you do reaches stratosphere.”

“You’re just jealous.” Vinyl smirks, showing off all her teeth. “Also, I played bass guitar on Rara’s new album so that makes me even more awesome.”

“Excuse me,” Lale Agha mutters. “Can I go?”

“Go to hell,” Ruby replies. “Or to the Trottoman Empire, whichever you prefer.”

Lale Agha takes off with only a bit more finesse than before. “Siktir git, sürtükler,” he says before disappearing slowly over the river.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“That we have healthy needs and that we should partake in sexual activities together,” Hexie replies. “I happen to know this part of the phrasebook pretty well.”

“I, for one, agree.” Vinyl stands up and points at the sky. “Especially since it’s getting darker and nights in the desert are cold.” She chuckles, looking at us. “So, who’s into sexual activities with me?”

“I’m straight,” I say.

“Same.” Hexie looks at Vinyl and shudders. “Also, I’m scared of germs.”

“I’m married.” Inkie blushes.

“Trixie suffers from a heartbreak.”

“Meh.” Daring Do shrugs, looking away from Vinyl.

“Seven more years,” Ruby mutters. “Also, I have my sleeping bag.”

“We didn’t really want to know what you do with it.” I shudder at the memory. “Also, of all the pleasure of this world, I’d rather eat something.”

“True.” Daring Do gets up. “Too bad we have nothing to make fire.”

“We have those empty crates in the plane,” Hexie says. “And I brought food from the town. Just set the camp up and we’ll be good.”

“I’ll help you carry it,” I say. I still don’t feel well after our visit in the ancient tomb and a conversation with Bastet and I could use a moment of loneliness after that.

Well, almost loneliness. On our way to the plane, Hexie just doesn’t shut up.

“So, I went to this house on the other side of the street to say goodbye to Daring’s ex, but I found out that he left soon after you did. I hope he didn’t try to catch you by hoof, but guessing from the speed of Trixie’s airship, he had a chance.”

“He’s not Daring’s ex. And I guess he just went to get his friends,” I reply, kicking the sand. It’s getting colder quickly so I can only think of blankets and sweaters on the plane. “Wonder what kind of plan they’re making now.”

“Oh, come on, there was something between them, I’m sure.” Hexie shrugs and opens the door of the plane. It smells just like when we left it. Some of the crates with our stuff are indeed empty, so we break them down for wood. You can only imagine how fun breaking something is, after all those adventures.

“I’d be more worried about our other friends,” Hexie says, watching my attempts to destroy a particularly hard crate with a hammer. “I thought that they didn’t survive this rozpierdol in Zebrica, but then I found that pale winged moron stuck in the bathroom window.”

The hammer nearly slips from my magic. “Kyrie? What did you do to her?”

“Pulled her out and walked her to the kitchen,” Hexie replies, kicking a crate and sending it flying at the wall. “Poor little shit, was completely covered in bruises, bandages, and band-aids. So I gave her some medicine…” She moves one of the crates to the side, revealing a distillation equipment hidden behind it. Judging by the ringing sound the crate made, the product of Hexie’s experiments is inside.

“You’re making moonshine on the plane?” I slap myself in the forehead. “What do you even make it from?”

“Various things,” Hexie replies. “Anyway, after two glasses she started singing Es zittern die morschen Knochen so I pushed her out of the house through the door. Unfortunately it wasn’t Germaney where they’d arrest her for singing it, or Saddle Arabia where they’d arrest her for being drunk, so she was just wandering around the street for a while, started a fight with a chicken, took off, hit the lamppost, and landed on the pavement in her vomit.”

“Huh.” I chuckle at that scene. “Even Inkie has more grace when she’s drunk. She just throws up on you and apologises a lot.”

“Yeah.” Hexie grabs a hooffull of boards. “I thought she may…” She makes a choking sound and points at her throat.

“Suffocate,” I say.

“Yeah, that.” Hexie rolls her eyes. “I grabbed her and shoved her head into a barrel of water once or twice. After she sobered up a bit, I set her free. I guess Aryanne wasn’t happy to see her.”

“She probably wasn’t.” I shrug and levitate the boards. Hexie smirks and grabs two bottles of moonshine.

When we get back to the camp, two tents are already set up. With our help, soon we have a proper camp by the river, complete with the fire in the middle of it and the pot full of vegetable and oats stew hanging over it. Hexie tells the story of her encounter with Kyrie – even Daring Do smirks at it.

“No, thanks, I’ll pass,” I say when Vinyl offers me moonshine. I already feel slightly dehydrated, not to mention that I probably caught something in Zebrica – either rainbow concentrate poisoning or some other tropical shit. I threw up in the morning once or twice.

Vinyl shrugs. “There’ll be more for me.”

Soon, it turns out that even the stew can’t slow down the effects of Hexie’s moonshine. After a few hours, Trixie is lying on the ground, snoring loudly, Daring stares into the fire with a solemn expression, while Vinyl tries to convince Inkie to cheat on Coco with her.

“Oh come, on, no one will know… Ewww!” Vinyl backs off when Inkie throws up on her. Guess it’s so much for affairs.

“Trzech synów matka miała...” Hexie sings in a slurred tone, ending with a burp. “Dwóch słynęło z mądrości…” She scratches her mane, apparently trying to recall the lyrics, but nothing comes to her mind. She eventually solves her problem by taking a sip from the bottle.

Ruby trots to me and sits by my side, staring at our friends on their way to self-destruction. “Hello, daddy,” she says.

“Shut up,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Believe me or not, I am your father.”

“That’s impossible.” Ruby furrows her eyebrows. “I happen to know how babies are made. Currently, I’m passing that knowledge to Button. In small portions so he doesn’t run away.”

“Watch out,” I say. “I don’t wanna become a granny just yet. Stay with the sleeping bag, it won’t impregnate you.”

“Button won’t either,” Ruby replies. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have enough blood to get that up without passing out.”

“I’d rather not imagine that, thank you.”

“Anyway, I wanted to ask how do you know you’re my father,” Ruby says. “Like, did you make tests or what?”

I tell her about the visions Bastet showed me. Ruby listens to it, nodding from time to time. After I’m done, she sits in silence for a moment.

“Okay…” she finally says . “So, the craziest cat lady of all the cat ladies told you that you magicked yourself a dick and fucked my mom with it and you believed her?”

“She didn’t tell me that,” I reply. “She showed it to me. Also, Dinky is your sister after all.”

“Fuck. I don’t know what’s worse. That or you believing some old shits who sit in the dungeon.” Ruby shrugs. “I think I’m gonna go to sleep before I start overthinking it.”

“Yeah, same,” I mutter, walking to the tent. Soon, I fall asleep, dreaming of cats showing me my life in the cinema. It’s a rather boring movie, unless someone enjoys countless masturbation scenes. I fall asleep halfway through – is it even possible to dream within a dream?

I don’t get the answer. Before I’m able to find it out, I’m woken up rather brutally – with a bucket of water to the face. Immediately, I charge my horn, ready to fry the motherfucker who did it.

“Don’t shoot!” Hexie yells. Her mane is a mess, but aside from that, she completely doesn’t look like she spent a night drinking. “We have to get outta here. Like, now.”

“What the hell?” I ask, blinking. The sun is blinding; somehow the light pierces through the fabric of my tent. “Mummies attacked?”

“Worse.” Hexie’s eye twitches in a way indicating that she ran out of vocabulary. “Die Huren, kurwy niemyte, stulejarze, lecą nam wpierdolić, we’re fucked, hosanna.”

“Slower and in one language, please,” I say. “Preferably one I know.”

Hexie rolls her eyes. “See for yourself.”

I walk out of the tent. “Well, shit.”

“‘Shit’ just doesn’t cut it,” Hexie says. “You need something with a rolling ‘r’. Prench or Ponish works best in that matter since–”

“Shut up and wake everyone up!” I exclaim. “They’re gonna catch us and fucking kill us!”

“That’s what I said.” Hexie shrugs, grabs the bucket and runs to the river.

I look at the sky once again, just in case what I saw was a hallucination. Too bad it isn’t.

Remember Aryanne’s old airship? The one we flew from Prance to Equestria and then I crashed it in the lake near Ponyville? Aryanne paid us a lot of money to pull it out of the water and rebuild it.

In hindsight, we probably shouldn’t have given it to Cherry Berry. Now it has four engines, two big-ass cannons on the lower deck of the gondola, large, bulletproof windows and almost unlimited range due to running on alcohol. Aryanne actually paid us for installing a much bigger gondola with the whole damn lab in the back, capable of turning anything organic into ethanol. To think that we thought she wanted it to evade taxes…

Oh, and of course it’s red. Because that makes it faster.

Anyway, this whole flying armoured distillery is currently over the horizon. I wonder when did they manage to get it?

Our camp currently looks like a brothel on fire. Starring Hexie as the fire: she currently kicks Vinyl out of the tent and drags Trixie to the plane. Luckily, Daring Do sobers up as soon as she sees the airship. Inkie moves on her own, more or less; not always in a good direction, but at least Ruby guides her.

“How long before we can take off?” Ruby asks, watching me as I levitate the tents and throw them into the plane, not caring about folding them properly.

“The sooner the better,” I reply. “Maybe they haven’t noticed us yet, but if they catch us on the ground, we’re fucked.”

“Yeah, sure…” Ruby points at Trixie who sits on the sand, rubbing her temples. It seems that she still hasn’t noticed that big fucking airship coming at us. What the hell? Even Vinyl somehow managed to stagger into the plane and drop on the floor inside.

“Oh, hell…” Hexie rolls her eyes. I wonder if her enthusiasm is caused by guilt – after all our poor form is mostly an effect of her moonshine. She walks to Trixie and smacks her in the ear.

“DON’T RUIN THE GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE’S GREAT HANGOVER!” Trixie yells, pushing Hexie away.

“Save energy for later,” I say, rushing to her and pulling her towards the plane.

Finally, we’re all inside, where Inkie slowly tries to turn on the engines. It doesn’t go well since she moves like a zombie. Hexie moves her aside and pushes all the buttons in the right order. The props start to move, raising a cloud of sand. I push the throttle lever and we dart forward. The dust is everywhere; I can hardly see anything through the windscreen.

“Faster!” Ruby screams, looking behind. “They noticed us.”

We barely take off when a shell hits the nearby dune and explodes, sending sand and shrapnel around. I pull the lever to retract the gear. Another shell goes wide, exploding somewhere in front of us.

“Watch out,” Hexie says. “They may finally hit us.”

We fly low above the desert. I try some sharp turns, just in case the pursuers adjust the aim. The airship is so close that I can actually see Aryanne and Kyrie standing on a balcony in front of the gondola. In uniforms, they look pretty fabulous, despite the bruises and the fact that one of Aryanne’s hooves is in a cast.

“What do we do?” I ask. “They’re slower than us, but they’ll surely get us before we are out of their reach…”

“I can fly out of the plane, get inside and blow them up,” Daring Do says. “I’d get myself killed, but I do believe my legacy will live fo–”

“Roll that legacy and stick it up your arse,” I mutter when another shell flies past us. “I have a better idea. Hexie, hold the stick.” I stand up and grab my rifle. Then I go to the back of the plane, greeted by a sight of Vinyl throwing up.

I couldn’t care less. I open the small hatch in the back of the plane and rest the rifle on the fuselage. Through the sights, I can see Kyrie looking at Aryanne’s windswept mane and blushing. Well, soon she’ll be very traumatised…

My first shot goes wide and no one even notices it. Another one bounces off the window of the lower deck, leaving a small dent in the thick glass. At the third attempt, I manage to knock Aryanne’s hat off her head. I see Kyrie darting to her and tackling her – not sure if to protect her or just to get a hug.

“Are you shooting at them from that peashooter?” Hexie yells to me from the cockpit. “Hold on, I’m gonna show ‘em!”

Shit. I suddenly feel that the plane speeds up, gaining altitude, I barely manage to catch something when we turn upside down. That plane wasn’t made for such stunts, for fuck’s sake! Some loose crates fly past my head, but most of the stuff is firmly attached.

I let go and land on the floor. Through the window, I see that we’re rapidly approaching the airship; the ponies manning the cannons also noticed that and began to run away.

“Hexie, you better have a plan beyond crashing into it!” I yell. My voice drowns in the roar of our machine guns, shaking the whole plane. Smoke and smell of cordite fill the interior; I watch as the bullets fall, poking holes in the balloon and destroying expensive wooden boards on the balcony. Soon, however, we run out of bullets. My stomach makes a somersault when Hexie lowers the flight milimetres from the airship; we slide under it and I get the perfect view at its wheels and the ventral gun turrets somepony added after our renovation. I can even hear a few shots fired from them, but they all seem to miss.

Finally, we emerge from under the airship. Hexie makes a half of a barrel roll, returning to a normal position. With a loud moan, Vinyl falls on the floor, completely wrapped in the tents.

Huh. It’ll take ages before that airship will turn back to us. We’ll have enough time to reach an altitude where thinner air would resist our plane less, making us faster. If we had ammo and bad intentions, we could shoot off their propellers, one by one. Or poke more holes in the balloon, waiting for them to lose gas and land. Or…

“Minuette!” Ruby shouts. “We have another problem!”

What? I look at the airship and see that someone flies out of it. More exactly, about a dozen of armed pegasi, supported by something that looks like three primitive triplanes – guess Aryanne’s friends designed them themselves. Cherry Berry draws better things while taking a shit, but they’re still dangerous. Although slower, they’re more agile than us and a crew of two gives them quite a firepower.

I rush to the cockpit. “We’d better watch out for those pegasi. If some of those idiots ends up as a pile of gore on our prop, they can jam it.”

“I can imagine.” Hexie takes a sharp turn to avoid the pegasi shooting at us.

“There’s no way I’m staying here,” Daring Do mutters and leaves the cockpit.

“Don’t!” I shout, but it’s too late – she opens the door and flies out of the plane.

“Watch this scene closely,” Hexie mutters. “Daring Do gets herself killed.”

Well, not yet. Daring rushes to the closest pegasus and welcomes him with a kick to the stomach. Then she grabs his weapon and smacks him in the head with it. As he falls, she uses it to shoot a few holes in the wing of the incoming triplane. The pilot and rear gunner look at it, paying completely no attention Daring who flies to them and kicks the pilot out of the plane. Good thing the guy had a parachute, though at their low altitude it didn’t help much – that landing on the dune probably hurt.

Meanwhile Daring smacks the rear gunner, knocking him unconscious and thus claiming the triplane. Which she then uses to shoot down the other triplane.

“No matter what you do, you’ll never be as awesome as her.” Inkie sighs.

“Bullshit,” Hexie mutters, slowing down sharply. Judging by the shaking, at least two pegasi rammed into our tail. “I’d rather have her here, dealing with those wankers.” She points at the airship: another dozen of pegasi leaves it to attack us.

The door of the cockpit opens and Trixie walks in. Her previous grogginess disappeared; her expression is completely deadpan. “Trixie has a plan,” she says.

“What plan?” I ask. “I hope it’s better than Daring’s.”

“Come with me,” Trixie replies.

I shrug and walk with her to the back of the plane. Trixie trots to one of the crates she’d taken with her from Maneaus and opens it.

“I swear, I’m gonna start checking what you bring here,” I say, looking inside. “The first customs officer that’d look here would arrest us on sight.”

“What?” Trixie levitates a few dozens of small fireworks. She walks with them to the door of the plane and opens it. “Tell Trixie where they’re approaching from.”

I look around. Six pegasi are coming from our left while the rest are from our right. Daring Do tries to chase them, but she doesn’t seem to understand exactly how her new triplane works.

Trixie only smirks when I tell her the situation. She lights up the fuses of the fireworks and tosses them out of the plane, using her magic to roughly direct them at the incoming ponies.

The fireworks dart forward out of control like a colourful mass of incoming pain. The pegasi try to split up, but the explosions blind them. I see some burning feathers flying around. One of the stray fireworks hits Daring’s triplane, setting it on fire. She ditches it, gesturing towards us wildly, probably questioning our sanity.

“Nice,” I say, seeing the pegasi and the sole remaining triplane running away; some of them try to put out their burning tails. “Do you have something else?”

Trixie chuckles. “Funny you ask…” She walks to another crate and brings some big-ass red firework. It looks kinda scary, with a large gem in its tip and like, a shitton of gunpowder inside. “Trixie calls it ‘Grand Slam’.”

“What does it do?”

“The best part of the show.” Trixie lights up the fuse and throws the firework out of the plane. As soon as it starts flying, she lights up her horn, aiming it at the airship, which managed to turn and is now facing us.

“I already feel for you, Aryanne,” I mutter.

The firework lands exactly in the barrel of one of the cannons, abandoned after our previous attacks. For a moment, nothing happens. Then I see as the explosion rips the breech of the cannon apart, followed by loud “boom!” as the sound reaches us. I look at it, disappointed. It wasn’t as big as I expected.

Then, the ammo explodes. Good thing the gunners ran away before, because all that shrapnel would change them into minced meat. The cannon falls out of its mount, breaking the windows of the lower deck and tearing large holes in the walls. Boards on the floor catch fire. This sight probably brought some sense into the crew, as some guys with fire extinguishers rush to it.

“Not enough to blow up the whole thing,” Trixie mutters. “But nice anyway.”

“I wonder if they come to us to repair it,” I say. “We technically give thirty years warranty for every aircraft we sell, but the fine print says that the warranty will be voided if the user makes unauthorised modifications or when the damage occurs because the aircraft was used in warfare. I guess that counts.”

“Yeah. Trixie almost gave a fuck.”

We are about to close the door and go to the cockpit, when I notice something. A sole pegasus starts from the upper deck of the airship and flies to us, accompanied by the only remaining triplane. I guess in case of the triplane it’s not exactly the crew’s motivation to get us, but rather the only option: those things usually hang under the gondola and now there was no one to moor them back to it.

“Is that Kyrie?” I ask.

“It seems so,” Trixie replies. I take a closer look at the pegasus and I notice that it’s indeed Kyrie. She changed her uniform to a leather aviator hat and orange-tinted goggles, as well as a leather jacket. She also carries a submachine gun.

“Some guys just don’t know when to stop,” I mutter. Meanwhile, Kyrie starts shooting at Daring Do who dives towards the ground to avoid the bullets. Kyrie apparently isn’t fixated on finishing her off, as she turns towards us, speeding up.

“I guess it’s my turn to do something awesome,” I say, my eyes focused on the triplane which tries desperately to catch up with us. The distance should be fine…

I close my eyes and teleport onto the triplane. The rear gunner looks at me unsurely when I appear in front of him. I hit the machine gun in front of him; it spins, the barrel hitting him in the face.

“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, pulling the ripcord of his parachute. It opens, blowing the guy out of his seat. I dodge him and watch as he falls slowly with a dumbfounded expression.

I crawl to the pilot. He gives me a quick glance and turns the triplane upside-down. I clutch to the tailgunner’s seat, hanging from it. It doesn’t stop me from undoing the pilot’s seatbelt with my magic, though. Those earth ponies never learn.

Well, at least I open his parachute too. He’ll thank me later.

I reach the stick and turn the triplane back in the normal position. Now, where’s Kyrie? I look around and see that she’s shooting at our plane. She poked a few small holes in it, though it’s made harder by Trixie firing spells at her. Daring Do tries to catch up with us, but she’s still further away than me.

I look at the triplane. It’s small, it has a rotary engine that makes weird sounds, and, above all, it has two machine guns. I decide to test them, firing at Kyrie’s general direction.

Huh. The sights are probably nothing more than really expensive paperweights, because all the bullets go wide. What’s worse, Kyrie notices me and turns into my direction, firing four times. Each bullet hits one interplane strut; I hear something ripping off and notice the upper wing falling apart and disappearing behind the plane. That’s some shoddy crap if you ask me.

Meanwhile, I have worse problem. The rest of the triplane takes a steep nosedive, losing some more wing parts on the way. Seeing the sand approaching me much faster than I’d like to, I do the only thing that makes sense to me right now.

I teleport out of the plane, straight into Kyrie’s hooves.

“Was ist–” She is interrupted as I headbutt her, knocking the gun out of her hooves. Then I jam my knee in her crotch. After all, I always pay my debts.

Kyrie groans and slaps me with her wing. I nearly lose my grip, but I manage to catch her jacket and get on her back, squishing and twisting one of her wings in process. Then I put her in a chokehold. She struggles to catch a breath, but soon her hooves move slower and her face turns purple.

The speed at which we’re losing altitude tells me that it probably wasn’t the best idea. I let go of her, but then we slam at the top of the dune. The world spins around me as I roll down in the sand.

I must’ve hit something with my head, because when I wake up, I find myself lying in the sand, with a vulture poking me with its beak.

“Fuck off,” I mutter. The vulture gives me a nasty look and flies off. Not too far away – it lands by another pony-shaped lump lying in the sand and rips a feather from its twisted wing.

“Get out!” I exclaim, trotting to Kyrie. The vulture jumps away and stares at us from the safe distance, tilting its head.

“Kyrie, you okay?” I ask, poking her with my hoof. She doesn’t look well – the bruises she got in Zebrica are barely visible, but there’s a large hoof-shaped one on her cheek too, not to mention that I gave her a bad nosebleed with my headbutt. I lift her wing, but it falls limply.

“Seems that she’ll be your dinner,” I mutter to the vulture and back off.

“Gah!” Kyrie yells, jumping to her hooves. She produces a long, narrow dagger from under her jacket and charges at me, staggering.

I dodge her, levitating the knife out of her hoof. I kick her in the side, only to hear a metallic sound. Kyrie turns to me, barring her teeth. Enough of that. My spell throws her back, sending her tumbling on the sand.

“Chill out, you rabid idiot, will you?” I ask, flipping her dagger in my levitation.

“Mein Kopf…” Kyrie rubs her temples.

“Yeah,” I say. “Given that you look like your head is regularly used as a baseball ball, you probably shouldn’t overexert yourself, especially on hot days…”

“Was?”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “No. Fighting,” I say slowly and clearly. “Peace. Do you even have such a word in your dictionary? I bet it sounds like you’re about to shoot a class of foals.”

“Was?” Kyrie repeats, raising her injured wing. She then points at the knife I’m still playing with. “Mein Kampfmesser.”

“Your mother’s name was was,” I mutter. “Also, Mr. Kampfmesser stays with me. We may be all like Freundschaft and kissu-kissu, but I don’t trust you that much.”

Kyrie tilts her head. “Fokk off und die,” she says finally.

“So you do speak Equine,” I mutter. “Not much, but that’s a good start. Also, we may indeed die if our respective friends don’t find us quickly.” I look at the sky, but it seems that the whole fight moved away from us and we just got lost in the ensuing chaos. “Can you fly? Fliegen?”

“Nein,” Kyrie replies. “Du sprichst zu viel.”

“What?” I ask. “On a side note, do you have water?” I think for a while. “Wasser?”

“Ja.” Kyrie unzips her jacket and produces a metal container from under it. It has a perfect print of my hoof on its side. I think I know what made that metallic sound when I punched her.

“Not too much,” I mutter. “What do we do when we run out of it?”

Kyrie just looks at me unsurely. I roll my eyes. “Wasser,” I say. “When. No. Wasser. Was we are going to do?”

“Ah.” Kyrie nods. She lifts her hoof to her temple and says, “Boom!”

I shake my head. “No, we can’t make boom, because for starters, you have nothing to make boom, get it?”

“Ich weiß nicht,” Kyrie replies.

“Okay,” I say, wiping sweat from my forehead. “This conversation is not getting us anywhere. I guess we die before we learn each other’s languages, but I can as well try.”

“Was?”

“Das,” I reply and point at her aviator hat. “Was ist das?”

“Eine Fliegermütze.” Kyrie takes the hat off.

“Put it back on!” I exclaim. “Proper headgear is very important in high temperatures…” As I speak, it occurs to me that I have nothing on my head. “Actually, give me that.” I yank her jacket.

“Möchtest du hier ficken?” Kyrie asks. “Bist du verrückt?”

“Just give me your jacket.” I mutter, pointing at my head and her clothes. It takes a while before Kyrie finally gets what I mean. As soon as she gives me her jacket, I wrap it around my head.

“See?” I ask. “Ich habe eine neue Mütze, or whatever you say on such occasions. We can go back to learning. What is that?” I point at the desert around us.

Kyrie looks at me as if I was insane. “Die Wüste?”

“Voeste?” I ask.

“Wüste,” Kyrie replies, rolling her eyes.

“We call it ‘desert’,” I say. “Desert.”

“Dezerht,” Kyrie mutters. From her expression I can say that she assumed that I got crazy from all the sun, but decided to play along. She points at the sun. “Die Sonne.”

“Nice,” I mutter. “Though it shines too bright.”

It is indeed almost midday and if we don’t do anything about that, we’ll soon fry. Kyrie has it even worse – her pale coat gives her no protection against the sun whatsoever. Even if we survive, she’ll definitely get a nasty sunburn. Eventually, we hide in the shadow of the dune. It’s not much, but still better than sitting in the open.

“Is there something else you wanna know?” I ask.

“Ich liebe dich.”

“What?” I exclaim.

“Ich liebe dich,” Kyrie repeats. “Für Aryanne.”

“Uh huh,” I mutter. “Hard to be the only gay… whatever you guys call yourselves.”

“Ja.” Kyrie nods. “Und sie ist so weise, während ich bin ein Idiot.”

“Out of my well-learned politeness, I won’t deny that,” I say. “Anyway, it’s ‘I love you’.”

“Ju?” Kyrie asks. “Junkers?” She makes a sound of a diving pegasus, ready to drop a bomb on my ass.

I smack my forehead with my hoof. “You’re hopeless. On a side note, Aryanne may find ‘I love you’ a little lame.”

“Was?”

Damn. It was much easier when I was teaching Hexie Equine. After three months, she couldn’t order a hamburger, but she could curse everyone in the HayDonald’s to hell. In three languages.

“Try ‘I’m a huge lesbo, fuck me in the face’.” I stiff a chuckle, hoping that Kyrie doesn’t notice that. Luckily, she’s more busy with rubbing her quickly-reddening skin, not to mention that she’s not very good in getting other ponies’ feelings in the first place.

“Ei am a h–” Kyrie furrows her eyebrows. “hu– huge lesbo, fokk me in ze feiss… Gut?”

“Good,” I mutter. “Practice some more.”

Kyrie nods and takes a sip from her water can. She then gives it to me. I nearly choke, hearing her attempts to repeat the phrase I taught her. She really should shut up when I drink – wasting water wouldn’t be wise, especially since we have almost none of it. After all, we didn’t plan to be stranded in the desert, right?

The sun shines even brighter than before. I can’t lie in the sand anymore – even in the shadow, it’s still hot as fuck. Kyrie’s words become more and more slurred and eventually she goes silent, panting heavily.

What’s worse, the vulture comes back. For a while, until Kyrie tries to tackle it with an intent to suck its blood. Unfortunately for her, the vulture flies away, leaving her lying on the ground lifelessly. If someone is to find us, they better do it quickly.

“They won’t find you. And I’m very patient,” the vulture says.

“Shut up,” I mutter. “Vultures don’t talk. Or any animals for that matter.”

“Of course they don’t. That’s just your central nervous system shutting down due to lack of water.” The vulture chuckles. “You know, unless you’re a camel, you can survive three days without water, although given the weather, I give you one. Alternatively, you may freeze to death at night.”

“Go fuck yourself, you overgrown chicken,” I mutter.

“I can’t do that,” the vulture replies. “It’s not that easy with those wings.”

“Love will always find a way,” I say, trying to look at the vulture. Given that everything changed into a blurry haze, it’s kinda difficult. I’m pretty sure it went a bit darker… So maybe the night is coming? Fuck me if I know.

“So much food…” the vulture mutters. “What will I do with that?”

“Touch me and I’ll snap your neck.”

“Not for long.” The vulture chuckles. “Soon you’ll fall in a deep sleep from which–” The bird is rudely interrupted by a sound resembling Ruby’s BB gun.

“Fuck!” Ruby yells. “I missed that fucking bird!”

“That ‘fucking bird’ may go extinct.” This voice belongs to Daring Do. I can hear the plane circling somewhere above us. “I’ll carry her back up, you take care of that one until I’m back.”

“I’d give her a gun with one bullet,” Ruby mutters.

“She’d use it to shoot you.”

“Okay.” Ruby sounds pretty disappointed.

I feel like someone’s lifting me. Am I flying? Is it dying? It’s hard to tell.

The next thing I hear are the engines of the plane. I feel a pin prick and that wonderful feeling when my brain cells slowly fill with water. Of course I can’t die. I saw myself as an old mare…

Wait. It’s better not to think about it that way. That may have been just a vision. If I believe that I’m immortal, I may get myself killed.

“Minuette?” That’s definitely Inkie. “What’s up with her?”

“We need to get her to some hospital,” Daring Do replies. “Or a shaman, whatever. Stay with her, I need to pick up Ruby and that pegasus who was with her.”

I try to raise my head to see how is Kyrie, but suddenly I feel a headrush. A moment later, I fall asleep.

When I wake up, I hear distant pings of some medical equipment and a quiet echo of some conversation. Good. Daring Do didn’t bring me to a shaman after all. On the other hoof, the conversation sounds vaguely Pferdisch-like. Did we get caught by Aryanne and her friends?

I hear some hoofsteps, so I open my eyes. More good signs. I’m lying in some hospital bed. There’s another one here, on the opposite side of the room. Kyrie is in it and for some reason her hooves are tied to it with leather belt. I take a look at the card hanging from her bed’s frame. There’s a large, red “SENUWEEAGTIG!” scribbled across it for some reason.

Hmm, weird.

The trotting stops. I turn my head to the left and see a zebra wearing a nurse hat. That’s not typical, either. Like, I’ve seen pony nurses, bat pony nurses (known to accidentally give old patients heart attacks from seeing two fetishes at once), griffon nurses… but never a zebra nurse.

“Jy is wakker,” the zebra says. “Goeie more. Is jy okay?”

Ah, that explains a lot. The conversation wasn’t in Pferdisch. We are apparently in Republic of South Zebrica. Not to be confused with Southern Zebrica, currently a site of intense gorilla warfare.

“I don’t speak Zebrikaans,” I say.

“No one does, these days,” the zebra mutters. “You’re currently being hydrated and quarantined. The rest of your friends are quarantined too after that weird one mentioned that you were in Zebrica. We examined you thoroughly and it seems to me that you were in pretty bad shape recently. Same goes for your friend.” She points at Kyrie. “She’s also fine, though for some reason she bit two nurses and tried to strangle a doctor with a catheter.”

“Yeah. She does that, sometimes,” I mutter.

“You should watch out for yourself, especially in your current state,” the zebra says.

My current state? Do I have cancer or what?

“Really, no more getting kicked in the crotch for you, I’m afraid.” The zebra smirks.

“That was actually her.” I point at Kyrie. “And I paid her back.”

“I see,” the nurse replies. “Anyway, I’d like to tell you that, despite all your adventures, your baby is doing well…”

Ah, that’s good. I couldn’t live, knowing that I accidentally harmed my–

Wait, what?

Author's Notes:

Dictionary:
ten tutaj skurwiel, cipa, obezjajec - this here fucker, cunt, eunuch
Bramini na wojnie, tylko spokojnie - brahmins at war, so just keep calm (apparently comes from the prison slang)
Te, bezjajcew! Gadaj cożeś odjebał, albo tak ci piznę, że w powietrzu z głodu umrzesz. (regional/slang): Eh, ball-less! Tell 'em what a fucking stunt you pulled or I'll punch you so hard that you'll starve while flying.
Siktir git, sürtükler - go fuck yourself, whores.
rozpierdol - a really big mess; clusterfuck
Es zittern die morschen Knochen - The Rotten Bones are Trembling (due to slight changes in musical tastes since the 1930s, currently one can earn up to three years in prison for singing it in Germany).
Trzech synów matka miała... dwóch słynęło z mądrości... - A mother had three sons, two were known for their wisdom (the first two lines of a song called The Signaller's Anthem. The rest of the verse goes like, "and the third one who was dumb became a signaller")
Die Huren, kurwy niemyte, stulejarze, lecą nam wpierdolić - "unwashed whores with phimosis are flying to fuck us" (short version)
Mein Kopf… - my head... (she also says "was?" repeatedly, meaning "what?")
Du sprichst zu viel. - you talk too much.
Möchtest du hier ficken? Bist du verrückt? - Do you want to fuck here? Are you crazy?
Ich habe eine neue Mütze - I have a new hat.
Und sie ist so weise, während ich bin ein Idiot. - And she's so wise while I'm an idiot.
Senuweeagtig - nervous (I guess someone was so nervous that they held the "e" key for too long.
Jy is wakker. Goeie more. Is jy okay? - You're awake. Good morning. Are you okay?"