“Holy hell, that was a crazy workout, mate.” Pipsqueak said between heavy pants, desperately trying to refill his lungs with precious oxygen, his chest heaving violently.

“Yeah. I’ve never felt so drained in my like.” Spike agreed with his friend before chugging about a half-gallon of water from his workout jug without taking a breath

“Eeyup.” Big Mac chuckled. “No better workout than a 5 mile jog to warm you up.” He said nonchalantly before wiping the sweat from his brow with his removed t-shirt, leaving his toned abs glistening with sweat in the sunlight.

“WARM YOU UP?!” The two younger boys asked loudly in disbelief.

“Wait a second,” Pip chimed in, “you mean to to tell me this isn’t the full workout?!”

“Eenope.” Big Mac started. “C’mon y’all, we ainn’t even been runnin’ for a full hour. Let’s get back inside to yer home gym, Pip. We’re doin’ legs today, so stretch for about ten minutes, and then get ready for squat city.” He chuckled in his deep, yet somehow soft, voice.

Spike and Pip groaned, but obeyed their large friend. They were soon back in the home gym, and were stretching out their legs for today’s brutal workout. Big Mac came in seconds later and began his stretches, which made Spike and Pip’s jaws drop.

“Eeyup.” Mac said quietly to himself before jumping into the air and landing perfectly in the splits, his long legs forming a flawlessly straight line. He then slowly leaned forward until his chest was on the ground, his legs still perfectly straight, his calm demeanor ever-present on his face. He held the stretch for about 30 seconds. He then propped himself up on his knees, and slowly leaned backwards until his head touched the floor. He then slid his knees outwards to his sides until each leg was making a painful-looking v-shape. He allowed more of his backside to touch the ground, until his shoulderblades and rear were also touching the cold floor beneath him. He continued to stretch out his hips and knees in strange, pretzel-like maneuvers.

Spike and Pip were cringing just by watching Mac do these painful-looking stretches. Spike spoke slowly. “How… the hell… is he doing that?!”

“I can’t rightly say that I know, mate.” Pip replied back. “I have trouble touchin’ me own fuckin’ toes, and technically I should be more limber than he is, bein’ the smallest bloke in this room.”

Big Mac chuckled lightly, hearing the younger boys’ comments. “Ah wasn’t always able to do this. Stretchin’ is something you need to work at more than weight training or cardio conditioning. It takes time, commitment, and perseverance. It’s the most painful part of the workout, because to get more flexible, you need t’pass your limit, but it’s also the most essential, because more flexibility means less injuries. Ah reckon if y’all stretch every single day, you’ll have me beat in a year or so.”

Pip leaned over to whisper to Spike, “Did you know he could talk this much?” Spike responded with a stifled laugh and decided to try the stretches that Mac was doing. He couldn’t get as far as the larger boy had, but he was still pretty flexible, all things considered.

After another five or so minutes of stretching, Big Mac stood up. “Alright y’all,” He said, walking over to the board and writing out today’s workout, speaking the regiment as he wrote it. “Today, we’re gonna do a full leg circuit. Calves, quads, hamstrings, and glutes. 5 sets of kettlebell swings and side-to-sides to start out; 30 seconds each set, 10 second rest between each set. Spike, Ah reckon you can use a 20 pound bell, an’ Pip can use a 15. Then, we’ll move onto squats; 10 sets of 15, 60% of yer max weight, a one minute rest between each set. Spike, y’all can probably do 150, countin’ the bar. An’ Pip… Ah’m guessin’ 100 for you. After that is gonna be calf raises with 25 pound dumbbells. These are easy, so we’re gonna do 5 sets of 50. Then, we’re gonna do leg presses. 4 sets of 25 reps, 75% of yer max. We’re gonna end off the circuit with hamstring curls. Trust me, this is the hardest, most dangerous workout in this circuit. Hamstrings are mighty easy to pull an’ tear. 5 sets of 10, 40% of yer max; don’t go any higher’n that. For all workouts besides the kettlebells, we’re gonna go one at a time so that we can spot each other. Ah’ll spot each of you when you lift, an’ you two’ll spot me while I lift. After the circuit, we’re gonna do a 10 minute post-workout cool-down stretch before takin’ a well-deserved rest in the hot tub. Any questions?” He stopped writing and turned to his class of two.

“Oi, I’ve got one, mate.” Pip continued in a tone of disbelief. “How the bloody hell can you do this everyday?!”

“Ah don’t.” Big Mac replied with a smile and a relaxed laugh. “Ah only work legs twice a week. Ah’m sure you can see why. Ah’m resilient, but Ah ain’t suicidal.” He joked.

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Spike laughed.

Mac responded with a calm smile. “Seriously, though, as football players, y’all need strong legs. You can bench press all day, but if you ain’t got no leg strength, ‘taint worth nuthin’.” Pip and Spike nodded at that statement, showing they understood that these hellish workouts are essential for their success in football.. “Now, let’s put on some tunes an’ work our tails off.” Spike nodded again with a smile before picking his favorite workout playlist on his phone and plugging it into Pip’s speaker system.

The three worked hard and diligently, and they finished the workout in about an hour and a half, thankfully with no injuries. They did their cool-down stretches and then walked to the backyard, ready for a warm soak in the hot tub. They all sighed in relaxation as they got in, enjoying the feeling the water gave them, slowly relaxing their muscles. “Ah, that’s the scrummy, right there.” Pip sighed as he felt immediate relief when the jets on the tub’s bench massaged his sore legs.

They soaked and chatted in the hot tub for about 30 minutes; afterwards they got out and dried off and then dressed in some comfortable lounging clothes: Spike in a pair of purple basketball shorts and a long, black t-shirt, Pip in a sleeveless red hoodie and white joggers, and Mac in some baggy grey sweatpants and a red beater. They relaxed in the living room for a while, watching television and chatting over a table scattered with plates, cups, and empty snack food bags.

This cycle continued throughout the week; each day after their workout, the boys would soak in the hot tub and then relax and chat. The three became extremely close as they got to know each other through these workouts. One day, Spike decided to tell Mac and Pip about him and Twilight. He was certain they would understand.

“Hey, guys,” Spike said as the three friends were having a post-workout soak. “Can I ask you guys something?”

Pip smiled and nodded, “Of course, mate. You know we’re your bros, you can ask us anything.”

Mac simply agreed with Pip, smiling softly and offering a hearty, “Eeyup.”

“Alright,” Spike began with a nervous sigh. “As you guys both know, Twilight’s my sister.” He stated in a shaky voice.

They both nodded.

“Well, as Pip already knows, a little over a week ago, I began to develop feelings for her that I shouldn’t really feel towards a family member. I began to love her and look at her as something more than a sister.” Pip stayed calm, while Mac’s eyes widened a small bit. Still, he allowed Spike to continue. “Well, the night that I came home from our first workout together, some stuff happened, I ended up confessing my feelings for her, and she reciprocated my feelings. What I haven’t told you guys is that I’m not her biological brother. I was adopted. Anyways, I’ve been throwing thoughts around in my head ever since that night, and I need to know something, so what I’m asking you guys is is this: does the fact that we’re only related by legality make it ok to be with her?” He looked at his friends with hope in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t see why not, mate.” Pip smiled, “Plus, if anybody has a problem with it, you can explain the situation, and I’m sure they’ll understand. And if not,” Pip shrugged, “tell ‘em to piss off.” He gave Spike a brofist after he was done.

Spike turned to Big Mac as he began to give his opinion. “Eeyup. I agree. If y’all ain’t blood related, then Ah don’t see a problem with it at all. Love has very few boundaries, and y’all ain’t crossing none of ‘em.” He ended with a smile and a pat on Spike’s shoulder.

Spike smiled brightly at the support his friends were showing him. “Thank you for having my back with this, guys.”

“It’s nothin’ mate. We’re ‘ere for you whenever you need us.” Pip said encouragingly.

Spike was put at ease, knowing his friends supported his love for Twilight. “Awesome. You guys are the best friends I could ask for.” He grinned and bro-hugged each of them.As they began to drift back into idle conversation, Big Mac’s phone started to ring. He quickly answered the call.

“Eeyup?” He asked the caller in his southern drawl.

The elderly, croaky voice of Granny Smith answered, loud enough for Spike and Pip to hear her through the phone. “Big Mac, can ya come back t’ the ferm? Me’n Applejack cain’t git this keg o’ cider up in th’pile with th’rest of ‘em.”

“Eeyup.” Mac replied in his unparalleled calm demeanor. He slowly stood up from Pip’s couch. “Ah gotta head back to the farm. Ah’ll see y’all tomorrow. Thanks for lunch, Pip.” The larger boy fist-bumped his friends as they said their goodbyes. He then grabbed his duffle bag, heading out the front door to the Apple family’s paint-chipped, rusty truck. He chucked his workout gear in the bed before starting the truck, it’s engine stuttering before turning over and roaring loudly. He then drove off in the direction of Sweet Apple Acres. This left Spike and Pip with nothing to do.

“What’cha s’pose we do now, mate?” Pip asked in a bored tone, tossing a small toy football in his calloused hands.

“I dunno.” Spike shrugged. “Wanna go downtown or something?”

“Sure, maybe we could call up a few blokes to meet us there.” Pip suggested.

“Button, maybe?”

“Eh, he’s nice enough, but he won’t wanna go anywhere but the arcade. And knowin ‘im, we’ll be stuck there for hours, an’ once he’s broke, he’ll try to mooch cash off both of us.”

Spike chuckled a bit, “Yeah, you’re right about that. Well, what about Snips and Snails?” he offered, to which Pip responded with a look of disbelief.

“Mate.” Pip began, “I’m as tolerant as the next bloke, but I refuse to babysit those knobs all day.”

Spike chuckled again, “Yeah, same here, forget I asked.”

“Oi, mate, how about Twilight an’ her friends?” Pip suggested. “I’ve never met ‘er or the lovelies she hangs ‘round with.” he said before patting Spike on the shoulder. “Heh. ‘Sides you, of course.”

Spike sighed in slight disappointment before explaining, “Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash are doing some ‘girl stuff’ with Fluttershy that apparently can’t be interrupted, Applejack is grounded for starting a fight at school with Rarity, who refuses to leave home because she’s ‘devastated’ about being cut from the fashion club, and Twilight is helping Principal Celestia organize her office for extra credit.”

Pip waited until Spike was finished to speak, but apparently he only heard the first half of Spike’s explanation. “Hold on there, mate. There was a cat fight at school, an’ I didn’t see it?! Oi, tell me you’ve got a video of it!”

“Dude, c’mon, that’s just messed up! I wouldn’t record my friends fighting.” Spike said, a bit angry at Pip for expecting he had done so.

“Sorry if I offended you mate,” Pip apologized, “But I ‘aven’t seen a good throwdown in years! I always miss the school fights, an’ by the time I hear about ‘em, nobody’s got the video anymore. I’m due to see a good beat-down.” he said, attempting to justify himself.

Spike rolled his eyes with a grin. “Bro, you never change.” He chuckled. “Look, if you wanna see the video that badly, talk to Featherweight; he records everything worth seeing that happens at school, and keeps the files on his phone and computer.”

“Thanks, mate.” Pipsqueak smiled. “Oi, speaking of, we should meet up with that bloke today; ‘ave you got his number?”

Spike nodded and tossed Pip his phone. “Here, just copy it onto your cell.”

“Righto.” Pip said, happily entering the digits on his phone’s keyboard before calling the new contact. “Oi, Featherweight. It’s Pip. Me an’ Spike are heading downtown. Meet us in by Sofas & Quills in 15, yeah? Alright mate, see you there.”

------------------------

As the two friends were waiting for Featherweight, Spike looked up at the sign and asked his friend, “Why does that guy still sell quills? It’s not the 18th century anymore. He’d make a lot more business selling pens, or something.”

“I dunno, mate. But I will say, he makes plenty of business off the couches alone. They’re the most comfortable things I’ve ever sat me arse on, they are.”

“Hm.” Spike hummed in response before the duo heard a squeaky, high-pitched voice emanating from across the street.

“Hey guys!” Featherweight called in his obnoxious tone. The buck-toothed boy made his way over to them with a goofy smile, his thin frame jogging awkwardly over to the two friends. “How’s it goin’?”

Pip forced a smile and nod, trying his best to shut out Featherweight’s prepubescent voice so his ears didn’t bleed. “Just waitin’ for you, mate. Not much else.” He said before giving the boy a fist bump. “By the by, Spike told me you got your mitts on a video of that Rarity girl and the cowgirl ‘avin’ a bit of a squab.”

“Oh yeah!” The small boy nearly screamed in excitement. “Rarity got her ass beat man! It was awesome! I’ve got it on my phone, wanna watch?”

“Do I ever, mate! And could you send it to me, as well?”

Featherweight smirked, “Of course I could… For twenty bucks.”

“Oh, you’re a hustler, eh?” Pip flashed a smirk back, “Well, I’ll choke up some cash, but I’m not a fool. Ten bucks.” He looked back at Featherweight expectantly.

“Fifteen.” The skinny teen haggled back.

Pip scoffed, “Mate, don’t be a tosser, I’ve got ten right ‘ere. Take the cash or take a hike.”

“Ugh, fine.” Featherweight groaned. “But don’t show anybody. It’ll be bad for business. I can’t let you take away my customers.”

Pip rolled his eyes, “Mate, ‘ave you lost the plot? You’re not a professional photographer, you’re just some prepubescent airy-fairy with a cheap camera. Your ‘business’ is sticking your nose where it don’t belong and selling the dirt you sniff out at insane prices to any ‘customer’ with the cash and ignorance to cough up a twenty.”

Featherweight shrugged. “Whatever, limey boy. You wanna see the fight or not?”

Pip glared at the buck-toothed boy, “Actually, you can keep the bloody video, ya gormless ligger. I’m not doin’ ‘business’ with some plug-ugly plonker who’s not even gone through puberty yet. Seriously, you skiver, you sound like a bloody 5-year-old girl! Take your slag-faced screenshots somewhere else, and bugger off, ya barmy fuckin’ mingebag!”

At this point, Spike was laughing so hard that his ribs hurt. When Pip gets mad, he makes the most hilarious insults. In all honesty, Spike had no idea what half the insults meant, but they were damn funny, and he couldn’t deny it.

Featherweight stood straight up and attempted a rebuttal, though his insults were much weaker. “Your insults don’t make any sense, you stupid tea-drinker! The queen of Trottingham must be one ugly bitch to have peasants like you.” Featherweight continued, thinking his petty insults stung Pip in the slightest.,“Tell me, how badly were you paid as a chimneysweep in ‘ye olde Trottingham’?” Though the lanky teen’s words didn’t offend Pip, the fact that Featherweight thought he stood a chance only seemed to make him angrier.

“Listen, you fuckin’ pikey, the only reason my insults don’t make any sense to you is because you’re as thick as me mum’s mingehairs. Not only that, you’re shitty ligger. A half-dead sewer rat could bootleg rum better than you could sell a video. You called me a tea-drinker? Well, I’d much rather drink tea than the urine that you willingly guzzle down every time you take a picture, seeing as how you’re a piss-poor cameraman. I don’t think you could get a decent shot even if you didn’t have your knob in your hand all the time, plus, you look like a nutter when you use flash photography at high fuckin’ noon. Are you blind, mate? a dyslexic bat with two black eyes could see better than you, you swot. You’re like a dog with two dongers about sellin’ these videos, but you don’t even know how to hold the damn camera in one spot. You’re mad as a bag of ferrets if you think these videos are worth any money. I swear on me grandmum’s grave, mate, you’re not battin’ on a full wicket if you think this shit is gonna make you rich! You’re callin’ me a fuckin’ peasant chimneysweep, but you’re dad must’ve been one naffy chav when he cleaned you’re mums maggot-chuffin’ chimney to pop out an ugly fucker like you! While I'm at it, I should also mention that the only reason you flash that cheap piece of plastic and glass is because you're a lazy sod who doesn't want to put in the effort to get a real job, and you’ve got no confidence to go to an interview anyway, because the Cake’s babies sound manlier than you, and your knob’s probably shorter than me baby toe. Not that anyone would even think to hire you anyway, with that spotty face you walk around with, on top of the fact that I’d rather stick my dick in a hornet’s nest than hear you utter one more word, since your voice sounds worse than a two-bit slag suckin’ on a thousand stiffies. When you speak it sounds like an uphill gardener got kicked in the nuts one too many times, and then he choked on the flowers he was waterin’. Not to mention you’ve got no meat on you. You couldn’t lift a piece of paper even if Ms. Cheerilee was danglin’ her twat above it! You’re weaker than a tart’s minge after a busy weekend! Seriously, even I’ve got more muscle than you do, and I’m called ‘Pipsqueak’ for a reason. Off yourself, you barmy git!” when Pipsqueak finally finished his rant, he spat on the ground in front of Featherweight.

“W-well… I… you’re a....” Featherweight desperately searched for a response, but was unable to choke out more than a fraction of a reply before falling silent, only to repeat the process with a new phrase. Tears began to well up in his eyes as Pip stood in front of him, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with an intimidating anger. He looked into the eyes of the angry Trottingham teen before his last wall of defense came crumbling down. “WAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!” The small boy ran away in defeat, his wails drawing the tears from his eyes. Spike and Pipsqueak watched the space he previously occupied wordlessly until the cries were silenced by the growing distance between them and the now emotionally crushed Featherweight.

Spike looked at Pip, and was so amazed at the verbal ass-kickery he had just laid down that he could only utter three words to describe his friend’s accomplishment.

“Savage as fuck."

Author's Notes:

Yup. Pipsqueak is a savage. This chapter was so fun to write. British slang and insults are so funny!

Thank you guys for reading this chapter of You Thought You Knew Canterlot High! As always if you enjoyed I'd appreciate a big thumbs up, and don't forget to drop a comment on Ringmaster1336's page for being an awesome co-author.

The next chapter is coming soon, so stay tuned.

Deuces!