Chapter 1

Author’s Note: Okay, so. Before we begin, let’s get a few tidbits out of the way.

1. If the name didn’t tip you off, this is sort of a ponified take on the N64 game Conker’s Bad Fur Day, with my OC, Lazy Days, as the main character. You don’t need to have played the game to read this, but it would certainly help. The same goes for my first story introducing Lazy Days.

2. I say “sort of” because while the over-arching plotlines and stuff will be more or less the same, liberties will be taken to try and keep things fresh.

3. This is a big one: Only two important ponies will die. Now, don’t take that to mean that absolutely nothing will die, just no important/likeable ponies. I might increase the rating later on, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

4. Oh, on the subject of death, for all fans of the game, don’t worry. Gregg will definitely be making a couple of appearances. It wouldn’t be the same without him, right?

5. There will be no Berri equivalent/love interest, mostly because A, I’m kinda bad at writing female characters, and B, I REALLY don’t want any Mane6XOC going on here. That’s not my style, nor my forte.

6. Like the game on which it’s based, there will be fourth wall breaking. Like, a lot of it. Though, considering this is a story and not a video game, I’ve concocted a few little changes to Conker’s context-sensitive system.

I think that covers everything. If I think of anything else important, I’ll bring it up somewhere down the road. So, without further ado…

LAZY DAYS’ BAD MANE DAY

CHAPTER 1

In the little town of Ponyville, Equestria, the sun was setting and the business district was winding down. All of the ponies were closing up their stands, eager to get home and eat dinner. However, in the humble mattress store of Sleep Sculptors, Lazy Days the unicorn and his best friend Full Charge the pegasus were locked in an epic conflict.

It was a hoof wrestling match for the ages, with the loser having to buy dinner for the winner. Charge had been feeling especially cocky that day, so he told Days that he could use his unicorn magic instead of his hoof if he wanted to. Charge had his hoof firmly placed on the counter, and Days grabbed it with his magic, covering it in a faint red glow.

That was about ten minutes ago. Charge was certainly no earth pony, but for a pegasus, he was rather beefy, giving Days’ magic quite a lot to deal with. For ten whole minutes they were locked in place, Days focusing as hard as he could to floor his friend’s hoof. Both ponies were gradually starting to wear out.

“C’mon, Charge,” Days panted, “That all you got? I can taste that veggie burger already!”

“No way, broski,” Charge countered, “You’re gonna buy me my salad, and you’re going to like it!”

With his magic on the brink, Days had to think of a way to get Charge to drop his focus. It didn’t take very long to think of something.

“Oh my Celestia, Charge, look! A giant robot is attacking Ponyville!” Days shouted, pointing to the window with his hoof.

“Buh? Where?! WHERE?!” Charge quickly glanced out the window, causing his muscles to loosen, followed by his hoof promptly being slammed to the counter by Days’ magic.

“Aw, dammit!” Charge cursed. Days jumped up and started doing a little victory dance, while shouting obnoxiously.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH! What NOW, hater?!” Charge simply grunted and headed towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, just tell me what you want.”

“Veggie burger combo from the diner.” Days replied. Charge gave a reluctant nod and ventured out to retrieve the food, returning a few minutes later with a paper bag in his mouth. He dropped it onto the counter and said his farewells to Days, leaving the store again to go home.

Days grabbed the bag with his magic and took it into the back room of the store. In this room there were usually a variety of tools and other assorted chotchkies to assist Days in his mattress making. Today was different, however. Instead of his usual metallic clutter, the workbench held a medium sized chemistry set, along with several soggy mattress sample squares. In a rather odd turn of events, no one had come into the shop that day to ask for something sleep-related. Days had heard that Twilight Sparkle had a cold that day, so he attributed the unnatural peace to that.

Without any jobs to work on, Days finally had a rare chuck of free time to work on his secret project, something that, if perfected, he theorized could change the face of mattresses as Equestria knew it, not to mention make him a ton of bits.

He set his dinner down to the side and began studying his most recent mixtures and the samples that resulted from them. The long and short of it was this: Days was developing a kind of super-plush mattress that would be able to conform to the body of the pony sleeping in it, resulting in a much more comfortable night’s sleep. He had considered calling it “Tempur-pedic”, but discarded the name because he thought it sounded stupid.

As he checked his chemicals, he took a small bite of his veggie burger. It had been a long day, with his Pinkie Pie-developed energy drink having long since worn off, so he needed some food to keep him going through the night. He lifted the burger up with his teeth; his magic occupied by beakers, and bit a little bit off. This was a rather bad idea, considering he had done that right over his experiments. The burger fell from his mouth and landed right in one of the larger beakers, dissolving in it and turning it a strange blue color. Though thoroughly annoyed by his clumsy act, he stared intently at the beaker as it began to bubble and fizz.

Is it possible? He wondered, have I just discovered the key to my project through sheer accident?

Just as quickly as the mixture changed color, it suddenly turned pitch-black and caught fire.

Nnnnnnope. I think I just accidentally made an explosive.

He was right. He had. A rather volatile one.

BADDA BOOM…

An explosion could be heard for miles around Ponyville. Mind you, it actually wasn’t a particularly powerful explosion. It was just really, really loud. But it did happen to have just enough power to launch a red unicorn stallion careening through the sky and into Ponyville’s outskirts. A mother and her filly had been walking around at the time, and when the filly looked up and saw the flying figure, she turned to her mom and said:

“Look, mamma! A flying unicorn!” To which her mother replied:

“Unicorns can’t fly, sweetie. Only pegasi can.”

“But I saw him, mamma! It was a unicorn flying through the air with his tail on fire!” The mother stopped for a second, a confused look on her face, then continued walking. She turned to her daughter and remarked “Maybe we should stop going to Sugar Cube corner for a while…”

MEANWHILE…

In the aristocratic section of Equestria’s capital, Canterlot, there stood one home that was far more built up than any of the other homes in the neighborhood. There was a reason for it, though any pony you asked probably wouldn’t go as far as to call it a good reason. The reason was that this was the ancestral home of one of Canterlot’s most famous (and infamous) nobles, Prince Blueblood. In the den of his home, the Prince sat atop a homemade throne, while his guards (read: two stallions he pays to stand there and look important) held their posts by the door. A third guard entered the den with a large, extremely ornate mirror in his teeth. He ambled up to the Prince, giving a respectful bow.

“Your mirror, sire.” He said, hoofing the mirror to the Prince.

“Ah, thank you. My favorite part of the day.” The prince took hold of the mirror with his magic and began admiring himself with it. He did this every day at the same time for about a half-hour, lord knows why. When he was finished gawking at his smug face, he gently set the mirror down on a wooden table next to his throne. The table, however, was (rather blatantly) missing a leg, and the imbalance created by the mirror caused it to topple over, shattering the reflective glass. Two of the guards grimaced, knowing what was coming next, while the third simply smirked because he had remembered to wear earplugs that day.

What came next was a roar (to be honest, it was more of a shriek, but no one had the heart to tell the prince how bad he was at roaring) that shook the foundation of the house itself.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT THAT…

Days woke up in a small crater as the sun was rising. His fur and tail were slightly singed, his muscles were aching, and he had a headache that could kill a manticore, but beyond that he was no worse for wear. He managed to sit up and look at his surroundings. He was next to a small, seemingly random patch of farmland, and a little ways in front of him he could see a waterfall. Doing some quick math in his head, based on his trajectory he could determine that he had landed in the Windy territory outside of Ponyville. He gave a low groan at this realization, and pulled himself to his hooves.

Now, before we continue, there’s something you should all know about the Windy territory. The Windy territory, named for the large windmill at the center, was pretty much the last place any pony would ever want to set hoof into. Many years ago, when Equestria’s plumbing system was created, a small zoning error caused all of the sewage pipes from Ponyville and any other nearby towns and cities to deposit their… “payloads” squarely in the Windy territory. This was bad enough, as no pony could stand the smell, but here’s a little known fact: pony fecal matter, especially a unicorn’s, contains weird magical properties. That much magic doody in one spot caused all sorts of strange changes in the Windy territory, both in the landscape and the wildlife. It was basically the Equestrian equivalent of a toxic waste dump. And Lazy Days was smack in the middle of it.

Days glanced over to the patch of farmland, and noticed there was some pony there, with their head in a large bucket of ice cream. He carefully dragged himself over to the pony and cleared his throat.

“Um… excuse me…” He started. The pony whipped its head out of the bucket, revealing it to be an earth pony mare with a poofy pink mane.

“Hey there, Lazy! Took you long enough!” Pinkie Pie shouted. Days gave a startled yelp and fell backwards. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, and then got back on his hooves.

“Pinkie?! What are you doing?!”

“Eating ice cream.” She replied matter-of-factly. Days shook his head.

“No, I mean what are you doing here? You know we’re in the Windy territory, right? This place isn’t safe!” Pinkie gave a small giggle.

“Well, duh! I wouldn’t come here unless I had to! But I had to wait for you here!” Days was confused.

“Wait for me? You knew I was going to get blown up and shot here?” Pinkie nodded.

“Yeppy leppy! Last night I had a big Pinkie-sense combo! Dry mouth, itchy butt, twitchy tail, and ringing in my ears! That means “Lazy Days is going to get blown up, end up in Windy, and go on a big adventure to get back to Ponyville!” Days went from being to confused to being flat-out dumbfounded.

“And your Pinkie-sense told you all of that?” She nodded.

“Ooookay…” Days said, deciding to just dismiss it as Pinkie Pie being Pinkie Pie, “so can you help me? You wouldn’t happen to have any Pink Rush on you, would you?” Pinkie shook her head and put her hoof on her chin in thought.

“Well, there’s not a whole lot I can do, except introduce you to Mister Author!”

“Mister Author…?” Pinkie nodded again and turned around, pointing to a strange pad that was sitting behind her. Oddly enough, the pad had a picture of three balloons on it, the spitting image of Pinkie’s cutie mark.

“Stand on the Pinkie Pad.” Pinkie ordered. Days, still extremely confused, did as he was told and stood on the pad.

“Okay, now what?” Days asked. Pinkie walked up to him and placed her forehooves on his head.

“Now just hold still and try not to freak out on me.” She said, smiling.

“Pinkie I don’t understaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”

I AM INTERFACED! …

Strange and horrifying visions danced in front of Lazy Days’ eyes and in his mind. He saw images of strange, bipedal primates drawing ponies, writing about ponies, creating small sculptures of ponies, and many, many more, each more strange and terrifying than the last. Days started to panic. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even think straight. He thought he was going to go insane, when he suddenly snapped back to reality.

OOH, TRIPPY…

Pinkie Pie was clapping her hooves in front of Days’ face, trying to wake him up. Eventually, he started to snap out of his trance and drew in a long breath.

“I CAN SEE INTO FOREVER…” he uttered. Finally returning to full consciousness, he finished with “and it’s not that interesting, to be honest. Pinkie, what did you just do to me?”

Isn’t it obvious? She’s given you the ability to communicate beyond the fourth wall.

Days gave another yelp and looked around for the source of the disembodied voice. Pinkie gave a small huff.

“That wasn’t nice, Mister Author! You scared him!”

Ah, sorry, Pinkie. Didn’t mean to.

Days stared at Pinkie with panic in his eyes.

“Pinkie. What. Did. You. DO?” Pinkie gave another one of her trademark giggles.

“I broke a little piece of the fourth wall for you so you can talk to the author of your story! He can help you get back to Ponyville!”

“I-I… I don’t…” Days stuttered.

Perhaps it would be better to just give a demonstration.

A small hole in space opened up in front of Days, and a little bottle of pain-killers popped out, with the hole winking out of existence just as quickly as it appeared.

“See?” Pinkie started, “when you’re standing on one of my Pinkie Pads, you can ask the author for help to get out of all kinds of situations!”

Provided I’m in a good mood. Just so you know, Days, I’m doing this as a favor to Pinkie.

Days grabbed the bottle and popped the top with his magic. He took a couple of the pills and his aches quickly subsided.

“O-okay,” he stuttered defensively, “thanks, I guess.” He turned to Pinkie. “I should probably get going if I want to get back home. Celestia knows I could use a nap.” Pinkie gave a big wave.

“Good luck, Lazy Day-ze! I’m gonna hang around here for a little while and finish my ice cream.”

“You… do that. See ya, Pinkie.” Pinkie returned to pigging out while Days made his way to the waterfall and the rock path inside of the gorge. As he made his way up, he noticed a strange wooden door in the rock wall. Unfortunately, it was shut tight. Ignoring it for now, he continued up the path.

At the top was a large stone bridge, with a giant gargoyle sitting comfortably on it. Days hoped he could just pass by, a hope that was immediately shot down.

“If you think you’re getting past here, you’re wrong.” The gargoyle stated.

“Well, gee, nice to meet you too. Look, you don’t have to get up; I think I can just squeeze by…” Days started, but the gargoyle cut him off.

“Don’t even think about it. I have a comfy little butt groove going here, and I won’t have your gross little hooves messing it up.”

“Look, can’t we talk about this? I really need to get home.” Days pleaded. The gargoyle gave a small snort in response.

“Well, if you come a little closer, we could discuss things of a different nature.” Days lowered his eyelids.

“If I come over there, you’re just going to throw me off of the bridge or something.” The gargoyle gave a nod in response.

“Yes. Yes I will.” Days rolled his eyes and turned around. While the gargoyle returned to lounging, Days noticed a large lever embedded in the wall. Lacking other options, he grabbed it with his magic and yanked it down. He heard a few mechanical clicks, and the sealed door he passed before opened up. He started making his way back down.

MAN, THAT GARGOYLE’S A JERK…

As he ventured inside to explore, the door quickly snapped shut and locked behind him.

“What the…? Aw, dammit. I really don’t need this right now.” Days noticed that the door had a rather large keyhole in it, meaning that there had to be a key around somewhere. Sure enough, in the corner of the small cavern bounced a key. A key with eyes. That bounced.

I wonder if this is what it was like for Charge that one time he tried smoking Poison Joke… Days wondered to himself. Pushing that thought aside, he charged at the key with the intent to grab it with his magic. However, as the red aura surrounded the animate key, it quickly shrugged it off and made a break for it.

(Fun fact: creatures and objects mutated by the Windy territory have a natural resistance to unicorn magic. The more you know~)

After chasing the key around for a few minutes, Days collapsed to the ground, panting.

This isn’t going to work. If only I could stun him somehow.

He looked around for a blunt object to use. Conveniently, there happened to be a rack of blunt objects on a nearby wall. Deciding not to question his good luck, he grabbed a large frying pan off the rack and placed it in his pocket.

Days suddenly realized he had an invisible pocket. This was rather unusual. Suddenly, Pinkie Pie burrowed her way up from the ground, a flower sitting on her head.

“Hey, Lazy! I forgot to mention, I also gave you a free hammerspace pocket you can keep stuff in and take stuff out of!” Days could only manage a confused nod.

“Take care!” Pinkie shouted as she dug her way back underground. Deciding that has sanity was damaged enough as it was, Days didn’t question any of that, instead opting to bring the frying pan back out, brandishing it with his magic. With a precision swing, he slugged the key, knocking it over and leaving it stunned. Not sparring a moment, he ran over and grabbed the key in his mouth and brought it over to the door. He inserted the key into the slot and threw it back into the cavern to return to its wandering as the door slid open.

PINKIE SURE CAN DIG HOLES…

Days returned to the stone bridge, brandishing the frying pan. He faced the gargoyle with rage-filled eyes. He ran up and smacked the stone creature as hard as he could with the frying pan. This, unsurprisingly, did absolutely nothing. The gargoyle stood up and began laughing.

“Ha! A frying pan! I can’t believe it! You stupid bastard!” Days took a few cautionary steps back. In his fervor, the gargoyle shifted his weight too far to the left and promptly fell, screaming, off of the bridge, shattering at the bottom and shaking the entire cavern. The vibrations jostled a few rocks from the ceiling, causing them to land right in front of the exit. Days gave another exasperated sigh, and then noticed a wooden platform near the fallen rocks. With a few well-placed jumps, he made his way up and saw the Pinkie Panel sitting there. He stood on it and collected his thoughts.

“Uh… hello? Author-guy?”

Yes?

“AHH! Oh! Um… hi?”

Make it quick, bro. I’ve got things to do.

“Right, sorry. So, the exit here is blocked by some big-flank rocks. Can you help me?”

No problem. Here.

The hole in space opened again and spat out a demolitions plunger.

“A plunger and TNT. This… will work.” Days smirked and pressed the plunger down. Faster than you can say “Parasprite polka”, the rocks exploded into dust.

“Woah!” Days shouted, impressed. “That certainly did it.”

He jumped from the platform and entered the pathway leading out of the waterfall cavern.

Explosions, gargoyles, and some kinda alien talking to me in my head. Eyup… it’s gonna be one of those days…

Author’s Note: Alright! First chapter done, and in record time for me. Woot-skies. Remember, comments are always appreciated!

Chapter 2

Author’s Note: Okay, I think I figured out how this is going to work. I’m just going to take the simplest route and go on a level by level basis. Now, this of course means that some chapters might be shorter than others unless I decided to throw you guys a curve ball, but we’ll see what happens. So, for this next chapter, we’ll be going through the first arrival in Windy up to the beginning of Barn Boys.

CHAPTER 2

While more interesting things were going on over in the Windy Territory, a scientist riding in a floating chair in one of the many towers of the Blueblood estate was flitting about his laboratory in a panic. He was a splotchy grey unicorn wearing a white lab coat, but more notably he was missing both of his hind legs and had some kind of mechanical casing welded to his head. On his flank was a mark of a brain being sliced up by a scalpel.

Long story short, he was not the kind of pony one would enjoy looking at.

His name was Professor Frontal Lobotomy or Professor Lobe for short. Prince Blueblood, after finishing his little temper tantrum, immediately requested that the Professor be summoned to his chambers. The Professor hovered about, checking all of his readings, as well as his coat pockets, to ensure that he was good and ready to meet with the prince.

“Ah… have I got everything, have I got everything…” he prattled in a Germarenic accent.

“Ah, must hurry, you know vat he’s like, you know vat he’s like…” The Professor finally composed himself, exited his lab, and proceeded to the throne room, pausing outside the door.

“Make a good entrance… zis could be important…!” He pushed open the doors and hovered into the throne room proper. The guards stood at attention like always, although two of them were wincing slightly, their ears still ringing from Blueblood’s outburst. Blueblood stopped staring into space and leveled his gaze at the Professor.

“Ah, Professor. Welcome.” He greeted. The Professor, lacking the ability to bow for obvious reasons, gave a respectful nod of his head.

“I have summoned you to assist me in a task of the HIGHEST importance.” Blueblood stated dramatically.

“Yes, of course, zire! And what is it that I may have the honor of helping you with today?” The Professor asked. Blueblood motioned to the wooden table at his side.

“As you can see… the table.” The Professor looked over and nodded again.

“Ze table, ah yes! So, you’ve broken ze mirror again? Ah, zat’s not gut, not gut.” He shook his head, shaking his chair back and forth at the same time for emphasis.

“Let me have a look for you.” He hovered over to the table and used the monocular strapped to his head to examine it closely.

“Hmm, yes. I think I see the problem.” He retreated back to his previous position.

“I vill see vat I can do. You must give me a moment, though. I will come back later.” The Professor gave a small wave and began to hover back towards the doors.

“Don’t take too long, Professor.” Blueblood suddenly stated. The Professor felt a slight chill at his words and turned back to face him.

“A-ah, I vill be as quick as I can, sire!” He reassured, turning around once again.

“Because you know what happened… last time.” Blueblood said threateningly. The Professor felt a greater chill than before and turned around again.

“O-oh, he, only too well, only too well… I vill go now!” The Prince leaned forward and gave the most threatening stare he could muster, lowering his voice as well.

“I don’t want to have to get the DUCT TAPE out again.” For a split second, The Professor froze in absolute terror as memories of duct tape induced horrors flooded back into his mind.

He quickly snapped back to reality and replied “Yes. I-I mean no. I don’t want you to get the duct tape out again. Uh… good bye.” He turned around for the last time, finally leaving the throne room.

I WONDER IF HE TAPES THEIR BUTT CHEEKS TOGETHER LIKE IN THE BREAKFAST CLUB…

The Professor paced around his lab, (as well as one could pace, lacking hind legs) mumbling angrily to himself.

“Duct tape… I’ll give him a duct tape… bucking flankhole. I’ll come down here; I’ll show him where to stuff it!” He rambled on, flailing his arms around. “Stupid bucker. All I do all day is try to sort his stupid bucking problems out! Flankhole, I bucking hate that bucker…” He sighed and regained his composure.

“Anyway, vat ver ve?” He hovered over to his work table, where his most recent invention, the anti-gravity chocolate, floated in the air.

“Uh… let’s see, ze mirror, ze mirror, ze table, ze table… Vat shall ve do vit dis?!” The Professor rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Uh… okay. Clean slate, clean slate, ja.” He observed his floating confection.

“Anti-gravity chocolate…? Eh, it’s kinda working.” He shrugged.

“Yah, zat’ll do, zat’ll do, out the bucking vindow with zat.” He smacked the hovering chocolate out the open window.

FLYING CHOCOLATE INBOUND…

The Professor must have smacked that chocolate rather hard, because it flew from the laboratory window in Canterlot all the way down to the Windy Territory, landing conveniently right in front of Lazy Days as he emerged from the waterfall grotto. Days, initially startled by the falling confection, approached it slowly.

Well, it came out of nowhere and it’s floating for some reason. But I did skip breakfast… Days thought. He was about to take a bite out of it, when suddenly Pinkie Pie emerged once again from the soil, coming up right under the chocolate and gobbling it up like a hungry shark. She sat down on her haunches and chewed contently.

“Pinkie! I was gonna eat that!” Days complained. Pinkie finished chewing and swallowed, giving a contented sigh.

“Ahh… sorry, Lazy! Mister Author told me to do that. Something about “not wanting to write in a life-bar” or something.” She shrugged.

“What does that even…? Ugh. Never mind. I’ll find something resembling breakfast later.” Days marched down the little hill as Pinkie retracted back into the ground, probably to pop up again sometime later in the story. He glanced around his surroundings to get a sense of what was what and what was where. He saw a large bee hovering around a wooden platform to his right, seemingly crying. Up the hill to his left, he could see a large honeycomb jutting out of a rocky wall.

Not wanting to get involved in local affairs, he crept past the bee and over the bridge, stopping at the bottom of another hill. On this hill were several stumps, upon which rested several large insects curled into balls.

As Days got closer, two of the bugs, clearly beetles of some sort, raised their heads to look at him.

“Alright, who’s dis?” The first one asked the second.

“Looks like one o’ dem ponies. Don’t see those around here too often.”

“Reckon we should get down there and kick the shit outta’ him.”

“Ah, wait till he comes up here, alright.”

“Ok, den, ya.” Both beetles retracted back into their ball-like states. Days looked up at the two of them.

“Guys? I’m standing right here. I could everything you just said.” The beetles ignored him. Days realized that he wasn’t going to get up there with his butt intact without a little help. Conveniently enough, there was a Pinkie Pad at the foot of the hill. He stood on top of it and, like before, gathered his thoughts to contact the Author.

“Author guy? Those beetles are gonna kick my flank. Can you help?”

Eh… Nah.

“Thanks a lot, I-” Days stopped mid-sentence. “What? What do you mean “nah”? You said you’d help me!”

I said I would if I felt like it. And here’s the thing, bro: I’m getting the distinct impression that your heart’s not in this as much as it should be.

“Good impression. If I had a choice, I’d rather not be here. But at the moment, I need to get up there, so how can I convince you to help me?”

Get some money.

“Money? Why? I’m not paying you to help me. And even if I wanted to, I’m not exactly sure how to pay a disembodied voice.”

You don’t need to pay me. But in order to get around this dump, you may need to grease a few palms, if you know what I mean. So, like it or not, you’re gonna need some cash, and it wouldn’t be sporting to just give it to you. Go make some bits, then we’ll talk.

Choking down a series of naughty words, Days broke his connection with the author and crossed the bridge again. Seeing the crying bee thing again, he decided to ask if she needed some help. Help that would, hopefully, garner a reward of some sort.

“Uh, excuse me.” Days greeted, walking up to the crying insect. The bee, who upon closer inspection was wearing a large crown on its head, hovered over to Days, it’s constant stream of tears unpleasantly showering over him.

“Oh, those nasty, nasty wasps. Whatever shall we do? My beautiful hive is gone! And I’ll never see it again now…” The bee, now identifiable as a female, blubbered.

Already not loving where this is going. Days thought to himself.

“That’s a real shame ma’am. Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Oh, Mr. Pony! Could you please go and get it back for us? Otherwise I don’t know what we’re going to do!” She asked, slurring the end slightly from her crying.

“Sure, I think I can do that. Where is it?” Days asked. The bee motioned towards the sign.

“Oh, just follow the signs.” She replied. She then returned to hovering aimlessly around the wooden platform, mumbling to herself. Days quickly backed away from the moving splash zone and proceeded towards the opposite hill with the honeycomb.

This shouldn’t be a problem. Days thought confidently. I’ve seen Fluttershy handle wasps before. How hard could it be?
He reached the top of the hill and saw the bee queen’s hive sitting in the middle of the honeycomb wall.

“Hello?” Days shouted, “is anyone home?” In response, three very large wasps flew out of the hive and glared at him menacingly.

“Yeah? What do you want?” The lead one asked him.

“U-uh,” Days stammered, “I wanted to ask you for the bee’s hive back. They really need it you see, and, uh…” The wasps began to hover towards him, their large stingers glistening dangerously in the sunlight.

“Yeah? That so? And what if we tell you fuck off and get your own hive?” Days was starting to become extremely worried, but stood his ground nonetheless.

“I-I, (gulp) came to take that hive back, and I won’t take no for an answer.” Faster than he could have noticed, the three wasps had surrounded him, their stingers each aimed at his vital points. He was trapped.

“You won’t take “no”, huh? How about you take “die”?”

I really don’t like insects. Was the last thing Days thought.

STAB!

OH, I THINK YOU ALL KNOW WHAT’S COMING NEXT…

In a dark, foreboding chamber, the unconscious form of Lazy Days laid. The chamber was only composed of several pillars holding torches, a floor littered with bones and cobwebs, and a large, dark corridor. Beyond these features, spread a void of infinite blackness, the sounds of pained moaning faint in the distance.

From the total silence suddenly rose a powerful and terrible voice.

“LAZY DAYS… LAZY DAYS… YES, YOU, BOY!” As the voice boomed, a menacing shadow spread across the ground. In response to the high volume, Days began to stir from his sudden unconsciousness.

“YOU ARE DEAD! DEADER THAN A DODO! DEADER THAN A-” A loud static began to interfere with the voice.

“DEADER than a-” The voice suddenly shifted drastically to an extremely high-pitched grumble as a small cloaked humanoid skeleton holding a sickle and a megaphone emerged from the dark passageway. He shook the electric device a few times and threw it over his shoulder.

“I can’t be arsed with this bloody ridiculous contraption. Whose idea was this anyway?” He asked no one in particular as the device’s static whine faded behind him. He quickly made his way over to Days, who snapped to attention, wondering what had happened.

“Right. Hello. My name’s Gregg. The… Grim Reaper. And don’t laugh.”

“Huh. I, uh, guess I assumed you’d be a little more threatening. And taller.”

“Well, how many Grim Reapers have you met before, mate? What am I supposed to look like?” Days raised his hoof to make a counter-point, but quickly lowered it.

“Fair enough.” A large scroll appeared in front of Gregg and he began skimming it.

“Right. Let’s see here. Ah, yes. Lazy Days. Species?”

“Uh, Equestrian unicorn pony?” He replied shakily.

“Equestrian unicorn po-” Gregg stopped mid-sentence and face-palmed.

“Oh, bloody hell; you can’t just be a normal pony or a normal unicorn, can you? You just have to be one of those Equestrians…” Days tilted his head.

“There some kind of problem with that?”

“Well, yes there is, actually. Your one of these “special cases”, and one of the most annoying ones at that! Even worse than those bloody cats and squirrels!” Gregg gave a low sigh and continued. “You see, because you Equestrians have a bloody GOD for a ruler, she gets the say on how death works for you. And do you know what she tells us? You damn ponies are only allowed to truly die at your proper time! No accidents allowed! And if a pony does die by accident, I have to get up off of MY arse and bring you back! Where’s the satisfaction in that?!”

Days, strangely unfazed by this news, gave a small smile.

“Cool. So I’m not dead?” Gregg continued grumbling and shaking his head, hand firmly placed on his face.

“No, you bloody smart-arse, you’re not dead. Not yet anyway.” Gregg looked up. “But if you get any smart ideas about trying to abuse this little loophole, I’ll be sure to bring you back to life with your genitals missing!”

Days cringed at the mere thought and nodded.

“Got it, Mr. Gregg. Message received. I’ll try not to die.” Gregg turned around and began walking back towards the dark corridor.

“Yeah, yeah, just get out of my domain, you little prick. I’m busy.” Right before he vanished into the darkness, he shouted one last time.

“And if you see that bloody god-princess of yours, tell her I called her a bitch!” As Gregg disappeared into the black void, a large skeletal hand reached down and grabbed days by the scruff of his neck, pulling him back to the world of the living.

ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR GREGG, EVERYONE!...

The astral hand dropped days back at the sign between the bee territory and the wasp territory. He quickly remembered his current predicament and returned to the wasp hive. The bee hive still sat where it had before, but instead of shouting out, Days simply walked up and grabbed it with his magic, then proceeded to run as fast as he could back to the queen bee.

Normally, I’m against stealing, but 1: they stole it first, and 2: they KILLED me. I think I’m entitled to a little grab n’ go.

Hearing his footsteps, the three wasps from before flew out of the honeycomb just in time to see Days making off with the bee hive.

“Hey! That guy’s trying to steal our nice new hive!” one shouted.

“Let’s get him!” Another shouted.

“Yeah! Let’s get him!” the third agreed.

They trailed close behind him, trying to impale him with their stingers, but narrowly missing each time. Eventually, Days made it back to the wooden panel and tossed the hive onto it. The queen bee looked at it and smiled as it opened up, revealing a large gun turret. The queen took her place inside it and aimed the guns at the wasps. The wasps, realizing the turning of the tables, froze in place. Days mustered the most evil smirk he could and gave a little wave of his hoof.

“Bye-bye.”

The turret barrels erupted with hot lead, piercing the first wasp, then the second, and finally the third as he tried to escape.

The queen exited the hive. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Pony! None of this would have happened if it weren’t for that no-good husband of mine. He’s gone off with another woman!”

“Ah, that um, sucks.” Days responded, his posture visibly shaky as he wished she would just cut to the chase so he could leave.

“Anyway,” The queen resumed, “as a reward for your good service to the bee community, I present you with this.” She said, turning to the hive. From behind the hive, a small set of eyes peeked out, shortly followed by a small, bouncing sack of bits.

“Somebody call for me?” The sack jingled.

Days normally would have freaked out at the sight of a talking sack of money, but he was exhausted and irritated, so he deemed said freak out for another day, and grabbed the sack in his teeth, placing it in his hammerspace pocket.

Nothing like a little scratch to make a near-death (minus the near) experience sort of kind of a little bit worth it.

The queen returned to her hive and began to scan the area. Having dealt with her enough for now, Days crossed the bridge yet again and stood on the Pinkie Pad.

“Okay, I got the money. I also sort of died, but I’m assuming you don’t particularly care about that part.”

You’re right, I don’t. Nice work. Looks like you know how to make money for yourself after all. Here you go.

The usual hole in space opened up and a large slingshot popped out. Days was dumbfounded.

“A slingshot? I just DIED for a SLINGSHOT?!”

Oh, get over it you big baby.

Days simply grumbled again and grabbed the primitive weapon with his magic. Using a small pile of nearby rocks for an ammo source, he took aim at the beetles. With one shot, he woke one up and pissed it off. With another, he killed it. He repeated this until all of the beetles were no more.

“Ethics can go suck a horn. I’m not in the mood for this.” He mumbled to himself.

He galloped up the hill and took a look at the two passageways, one carved out of a tree, the other carved out of… something brown.

“UGH! WHOA! That is a smell if ever there was one!” He said, backing away from the brown passage. He turned to the tree. Anything was better than the other option after all.

Author’s note: Man, I am just the WORST at fast releases, aren’t I? Though, in my defense, I was legitimately busy with other junk this time. Seriously. Still, I know it’s not a good policy to get something out every two weeks. I’ve been the reader in that situation, and I know it’s annoying. I’ll try to push myself to get stuff done faster.

Oh, and a couple of side notes. In case anyone is wondering, the little death gimmick I introduced here will definitely be used for future jokes. Also, if you didn't notice, non-pony characters are still cursing normally. Only pony characters will use "ponified" curse words. Everyone else is still swearing like sailors.

(Can someone give me a heads up if I need to increase the rating? I'm just a little unsure about that.)

Comments are always appreciated!

Chapter 3

Author’s Note: Okay! Barn Boys, start to finish! Let’s do this like Brutus!

CHAPTER 3

Back in the Blueblood estate, the Professor was mulling over a diagram he created of the Prince’s table, determined to figure out the problem and save himself from a duct-tape-y doom.

Progress had been rather slow, unfortunately.

“What is the key elements in zis experimentation?” the Professor wondered aloud.

“Ze glass in ze mirror, broken. Ah, I see the problem.” He nodded sagely.

“And there seems to be a… hmmm… there seems to be a…” he glared extremely closely at the blue paper, specifically at the large empty space between the floor and the short table leg.

“I must do some experiments, I think.” He said as he backed away from the diagram and took out an extending presentation stick.

“Ja, ja. And we will sort this out.” He turned to a large vat on a nearby table and chuckled darkly. Inside the vat were what appeared to be the boiling, desecrated remains of an old Smarty-Pants doll. On the doll’s head was a large, metal helmet.

“And when my Smartiz are ready…” The Professor began as he retracted his presentation stick, “zen, my liege, we will see who uses the duct tape.” He rubbed his hands together and gave a low, evil laugh.

MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH…

Lazy Days emerged from the wooden hollow into the sunlight, blinking. In front of him was a large construct that looked like some kind of cross between a barn and an ancient ruin. Between the barn thing and Days was a small moat of really gross looking water.

“Eugh. Not going in that stuff if I can help it.” He took a few steps back, then charged forward and jumped, clearing the muck and landing on a stone porch. He trotted up a nearby hill and saw a horrendously large mouse in front of two metal boxes stacked on top of each other, both of which, of course, had faces.

“I say, I say little fella,” the lower box shouted, trying to get Days’ attention, “you better get this fat-ass bitch off my back, pronto!” Days tilted his head in confusion.

“Okay, one? Why does everything around here talk and have a face? How do you mutate a BOX? And two? Why the hay should I?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do, I say, I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. You get rid of that freaking mouse critter, and maybe I’ll help you out. Just maybe.” Days looked over at the mouse, then at the upper box, who appeared to be crying and whimpering in fear, then back to the lower box.

“Wait, are you telling me she’s up there because she’s afraid of that mouse?”

“Damn right, she is, boy!” the box shouted in response.

“But she’s a box! Made of metal!” Days shouted. “She’s twice his size! And he doesn’t even look vicious or anything!” The mouse gave a low burp.

“And even if he was vicious, he can’t exactly bite a METAL BOX, now can he?”

“Look, boy, I say, look boy! I don’t care how dumb this bitch is or isn’t, I just want her off my damn back! So you help me out with this, and I’ll return the favor.” Days sighed and turned around to go talk to the mouse.

“Oh! One more thing, I say, just one more thing,” the box started again, “You might run into my friend, Burt. Just mention my name, Jack, and everything will be just dandy.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Days waved him off and turned to the mouse.

“Okay, so… mouse guy? Can you just like, go away please?” The mouse belched again and Days reflexively covered his nose.

“Shucks, Mr. Pony. I’d love to help ya, but I heard there was a cheese ranch around the bend here, and I came all this way just to see it.”

“Okay, so why don’t just go see it if it’s around the bend?” Days asked. The mouse shook his head.

“I’m really hungry, Mr. Pony. Just don’t got the energy. But I’ll tell you what, if you bring me some cheese from the ranch, I can get my energy back and I’ll get out of your hair.” Days decided to forgo his usual sigh in favor of a loud groan.

“Fine, fine. I’ll be back.” Days returned to the front of the structure and made his way around the nearby bend. Along the path, multiple metal boxes jumped around aimlessly, crashing down hard each time. Days walked up to the closest box and tried to engage it in conversation.

“Scuse me, mind if I scoot by here?” He asked. The box replied by jumping forward and crushing him, killing him instantly.

SPLAT!

The disembodied hand of Death dropped Days back in front of the pathway.

“Okay, diplomatic route equals death. I’ll remember that.” He commented sarcastically. Instead of trying to talk to the boxes, he simply waited for each one to jump and then quickly ducked under. With a little timing skill, he found himself at the end of the path, in front of a wooden gate guarded by yet another box.

“You Burt?” Days asked.

“I’m Burt.” The box replied quickly.

“Jack sent me.”

“I’ll open the gate for you here, and you can get on with what it is ever that you’re trying to do.” The wooden gate suddenly opened.

“How’d you do that without any arms?” Days asked. Burt said nothing.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna take some of this cheese here. Is that cool?” Again, Burt said nothing. “Cool…” Days entered the small ranch. Inside, various blocks of living cheese scampered around. Remembering his experiences with the key in the waterfall grotto, Days retrieved his frying pan from his inventory and quickly bonked three of them. Deciding to try a little experiment, Days used his magic to grab all three blocks and suspend them in the air next to him.

Nice! He thought. I can still pick this stuff up as long as I knock em’ out first.

Cheese in tow, Days returned to the mouse and the two boxes. All three blocks of cheese had woken up and began struggling, but Days managed to keep his magical grip on them. As long as he didn’t let them touch the ground, there was no escape.

“Alright, mouse guy, stand still and open your trap, cause’ here comes the cheese!” The mouse did as instructed and Days chucked the first block screaming into the mouse’s mouth. He gave a satisfied belch.

“That was nice! (burp) I’d like another though, if that’s okay,” Said the mouse. Days nodded and primed another block, hurling it to its doom just like the first. Instead of belching, the mouse let loose a long fart.

“Marvelous! One more should just about do it!” Days grasped the final block as it begged for mercy, tuning out its crying voice. With a mighty throw, the last cheese went like its brethren. The mouse simultaneously belched and farted. He was about to thank Days when something strange happened.

A sound not unlike a flushing toilet could be heard from the mouse’s gut as it quickly started to inflate.

“Oh no!” The mouse said, panicked, “I think I ate a bit too much! Oof!” He rolled over onto his backside and continued to inflate. Finally, his mousey body could no longer sustain the pressure. He gave out an agonized scream and exploded in a shower of meat and blood.

Various chunks flew out, leaving the mouse’s ribcage and tail lying lifelessly, while the mouse’s own head plopped down in front of Days, somehow still blinking.

He picked the head up with his magic and hesitantly asked, “Uh, you okay, dude?”

“Eh, I’ve been worse.” The mouse’s disembodied head replied. Days was unconvinced.

“That’s… unlikely. Uh…” Days struggled to find words. “Fluttershy never hears about this, got it?”

“Who’s Fluttershy?” The mouse head asked.

“Oh. Uh. No one. No one at all.” Eager to end the disturbing conversation, Days chucked the head over his shoulder and quickly began suppressing the memory. As he trotted up to Jack, the female box leapt off of his shoulders and landed neatly to his left.

“Ahh…” Jack sighed with relief. “I couldn’t a lasted a moment longer. Thank you very much, Mr. Pony. Now, there’s something real neat inside that barn. You just gotta get in there, sonny.” He finished and scrunched himself down. Days simply stared.

“What? That’s it? You tell me “go look in the barn” and crouch down? Not much of a thank you.” Jack grunted in response.

“I’m tellin’ you to use me and the fat bitch here to climb up to the roof. There’s a door openin’ switch up there. Then you can check out the barn.”

“Why would someone put a door opening button to their barn on the roof?”

“I didn’t build the damn thing, sonny! Just get up there!” Jack shouted.

“Alright, alright, no need to get snippy.” With a couple of quick jumps, Days made his way up to the thatched roof of the barn. As Jack had said, there was a large pressure plate button, but that wasn’t what got Days’ attention. What got his attention was the animate sack of bits jingling about near the button, calling out for someone to come get him. Days walked up to the sack and gave a little wiggle of his eyebrows.

The sack looked up at Days to confirm his approval of his taking possession of him.

“So, you want some gold stuff?” The sack asked. Without a second thought, Days snatched it up in his teeth and stuffed it into his hammerspace pocket.

If I was Berry Punch, I’d so use this to get tanked tonight. But then again, I’m not Berry Punch.

After making a mental note to ask Berry Punch about what it was like to be Berry Punch, Days jumped back down to the ground level. He went around the bend again, this time going past the cheese ranch to the entrance of the barn. Hoping around outside the door was an animate wooden crate, but Days decided he had dealt with crates enough for now and ignored it, entering the barn.

EH, I CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING WITTY TO SAY…

The inside of the barn looked like, well, the inside of a barn. Jumping around the stone floor were various animate piles of hay, each of different shapes and sizes. Days entered the room and left the door slightly open.

He singled out one of the smaller piles and loudly addressed it.

“Oi, you!” The small pile looked around for a second, and then turned back to Days.

“Yeah, you. So, one of those metal box guys, Jack, told me there was something really neat inside this barn. Now, I’ll admit, on any other day, living hay would actually be pretty neat, but unfortunately for you guys, that’s pretty tame compared to some other stuff I’ve seen around here. So, is there anything else in here? ‘Sides the smell of crap?” The small hay pile chuckled darkly, suddenly adopting a sinister look on its face.

“Heh heh heh… this is pretty neat.” It said. Suddenly, the barn door slammed shut, and a large wooden pole flew out of the wall, locking it from the inside. Days looked at the primitive lock, then back at the hay piles, who had resumed jumping around aimlessly.

“Uh, no. That’s decidedly not neat. On a scale of one to ten, that’s a negative three.” He quipped.

As Days continued yelling at hay, several tools woke from their naps, a rake, a paint pot, and a paint brush. They noticed Days in the room and began to converse among themselves.

“Hey, Franky.” The paint pot addressed the rake. “I think there’s a little fella over there, just came in through the door. I think it’s your turn to kick his- I think it’s- is it his turn?” he asked, turning to the brush. The brush bounced its body to turn to the other two, splattering some paint in the process.

“Yeah, I think it’s his turn. Hey Franky, go and kick his ass. Go on, go and kick his ass.”

“I ain’t kicking,” the rake, Franky, complained, “it’s always my turn to kick their asses.” The paint pot turned to Franky with an annoyed look.

“Franky, just get over there and kick his ass, Franky, for fucks sake.”

“Yeah, go over there and kick his ass,” the brush agreed, “somebody’s gotta kick his ass, ain’t gonna be me, I’m a brush. I don’t kick ass.”

The paint pot nodded and turned back to Franky.

“I’m a paint pot. Anyway, I’m a fucking paint pot. Go and kick his ass.” Franky struggled to find words to argue, but quickly lowered his head in defeat.

“Ok, I’ll kick his ass. But I’m not going over there, he can come over here.” The paint pot accepted this and turned once again to look at Days.

“Ok, here he comes, just quick, keep still, keep still.” The three tools quickly returned to their resting places on the wall. Days turned to them and sighed.

What’s up with people around here and thinking that I can’t hear them when they’re five feet away from me?

Days trotted slowly up to the tool trio.

“Uh…” The pitchfork suddenly sprang up, cutting him off.

“What the damn diddly-squat are you doing in my barn?!” he shouted.

“Wait, are you supposed to be pitchfork?” Days asked.

“Not from around here, are ya boy?” Franky continued, ignoring Days’ question.

“Don’t pitchforks usually have four prongs?” Days asked, apparently also oblivious to Franky’s side of the conversation.

“I don’t rightly recollect liking your type. Therefore, I conclude that I is gonna kick your butt around this barn like there’s no tomorrow. I is gonna stick my big fork right into yers.”

“Y’know, if you had four prongs, the other two would be right where your junk would be if you had any.” Days commented with a snicker.

“Boy! You listenin’ to me?!” Franky asked angrily.

“Not really.” Days responded.

“Right! That’s it! I is gonna give you a whupping! Here we go!” Franky began bouncing up and down to build up momentum and charged at Days, who quickly dodged to the side.

Great, now I have a homicidal pitchfork after me. Days thought. This barn already sucks enough with all of this hay jumping around-

Suddenly, the gears in Days’ head began to turn at light speed.

Wait a sec. I’m a pony. I haven’t eaten breakfast. Ponies eat hay. This hay is alive and cannot be eaten as it is. Pitchforks break up hay. Use pitchfork to break up hay to get breakfast!

Days took a combative stance, his eyes trained on Franky. He carefully lead Franky to the center of the barn, where the hay was jumping around. Franky crouched to the ground and slid on his prongs in an attempt to gore Days. Thinking fast, Days positioned himself behind one of the hopping bales. Franky pierced the living hay in his slide, reducing it to messy strands. Carefully, Days repeated this process with each pile until none were left, their remains neatly arranged on the stone floor. Days flashed a happy smile, and then sat down to eat his fresh-clipped breakfast.

“Thanks a lot, pitchfork guy! I missed breakfast this morning, I really needed this.” Days thanked Franky between bites. Franky was extremely confused, having originally set out to kick Days’ ass, he had ended up serving him a fiber-enriched meal.

As Franky returned to the shelf on the wall, the paint pot, who had been watching the whole time along with the brush, shook his head (or rather, his body) in disgust.

“I’ve seen some kicking ass in my time, and that is the shitiest, crapest, crapiest, shitest kick ass I’ve ever seen.” He berated.

“Yeh,” the paint brush agreed, “that was pretty crap. As kicking ass goes, it was abysmal, and you is a shit bastard, stupid bastard. Isn’t he?” he asked the paint pot.

“Yeah, he sure is. So what you gonna do now, kill yourself? Cause that’s what I’d recommend.”

“Yeh, you should kill yourself!” The paint brush cheered in agreement, “In fact we got a rope right here.” He motioned up at the noose hanging on the barn’s ceiling. Franky hung his head in shame, whimpering slightly.

“What kind of friends are you? Oh… in that case, I is gonna kill myself! I’m gonna kill myself right now! That’s all there is to it.” He began to bounce away, before quickly turning back to add in a “fuck you!”

MAN, WRITING THE DIALOGUE FOR THESE GUYS IS A PAIN…

From the nose, Franky’s body hung, his mouth slightly agape. Down below, the paint pot and brush were laughing at him.

“What are you doing? Eh he he he he, you stupid bastard! He hasn’t even got a neck.” The paint pot jeered.

“Yeh! Look at him! Stupid bastard hasn’t even got a neck! He hasn’t got a neck, has he?” The brush asked the paint pot.

“I already said that! Shut up!” The paint pot scolded.

“Oh, ok.” The brush replied, head hung in shame.

Franky’s eyes snapped open and he resumed his whining. “I don’t believe it! I don’t appear to have a neck of any description! In fact, I ain’t got an esophagus! Oh, diddle di damn, I is gonna be up here for some time…”
Meanwhile, Days had finally polished off his hay, and looked up to see Franky flailing about.

“Well, geez. That’s kinda harsh. I should probably get him down from there. In a cosmic way, this is sort of my fault.” He mumbled to himself. Looking around, he noticed a large lever in the corner of the room. He gave it a tug with his magic to see what would happen. The only thing that did happen was the front door to the barn opening, as well as the sound of another door opening above him along with a muffled shout.

Sounds like some kind of hatch opened upstairs. Maybe if I get closer, I can get that guy down.

Resolute, Days ran out of the barn to try to get higher up. However, as soon as he left, the door slamming behind him, a barbaric hay stack jumped down to the stone floor from the rafters, startling the paint pot and brush. The hay stack took a cautionary look around.

“So, my nemesis is defeated…” He monologued to himself. He turned to the paint pot and brush, who cowered before his gaze.

“Yes! It’s me again.” He said to them.

“Right. Time to wander around… AIMLESSLY.”

He did just that.

WOW. THREATENING ISN’T HE…

Outside, Days began to climb up a nearby wooden path when he was distracted by a somewhat grubby looking bee.

“Hey, buddy! Spare some bits?”

Days stood still for a moment and looked at the run-down insect.

Oversized, smelly bee asking me for handouts…

He immediately resumed walking. A small “uh-uh” could be heard escaping his mouth.

At the top of the path, the wooden crate Days had noticed before was still bouncing around in a circle. Noticing a smaller, surprisingly inanimate box laying nearby, Days waited until the crate was close, and then used the small box as a stepping stone to jump on top of it. He rode the wooden creature until he was close to the small door on the barn’s wall, and quickly jumped back inside.

WELL, THAT WAS A SHORT PART…

The rafters of the barn were composed of various square panels, all of which formed a convenient path to Franky’s location. With a few quick jumps, Days made his way to the platform facing the hanging farming implement, complete with a Pinkie Pad.

“Author guy?” Days asked after stepping on the panel.

Do you really need to call me Author “guy” every time? Isn’t just Author okay?

“Not important right now. There’s some guy hanging by his neck on a rope, and it’s sorta my fault. How do I get him down?”

Ain’t you a unicorn? Can’t you just undo the rope with your magic?

“What do I look like, a colt scout? I don’t know anything about knots.”

Keep your nonexistent pants on. If you can’t untie the rope, then go for the next best method.

The usual hole in space opened up and a small pile of knives clanged to the floor.

“Good idea! But why are there so many? I only need one.”

What if you miss the throw, though?

“Throw?! Are you out of your mind?! I’ll just levitate it!”

Oh… alright then… you’re no fun…

Breaking contact with the author, Days grabbed the sharpest knife from the pile and levitated it near the rope holding Franky, who began to squirm, frightened.

“Hey! Careful! I’m gonna fall!” he shouted.

“That’s the idea.” Days commented simply. With a few quick slices, he severed the rope from its suspension. Franky hung in the air for a moment in a cartoony fashion.

“This is gonna hurt!” he shouted. He finally fell to the ground with a soft thud, with Days jumping down after him, bracing himself for the impact.

“What’d you do that for, dumb shit?” The paint pot complained.

“Yeah. Ya dumb shit.” The brush echoed.

“Why is it you have to repeat everything I say?” The paint pot asked the brush with an angry look.

“I-I don’t repeat everything you say. Do I?”

“Yes you do, actually.”

“Oh, sorry.” The brush apologized.

Franky pulled himself up to his prongs and bounced over to Days.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Pony! I was hanging up there by my pretty little neck. It was like one of them executions you hear about!” As Franky spoke, Days’ eyes wandered to the paint pot and brush. For a split second, he thought he saw them both wearing executioner’s hoods and holding bloody axes, but they returned to normal when he blinked.

“Uh, right. So, I’ve gathered your name is Franky?”

“Yessir!” Franky responded, “Franky Pitchfork.” Days gave a polite nod.

“Well, it’s a pleasure, Franky. I’m Lazy Days. Nice to meet someone who isn’t trying to kill me or con me around here. Now then,” Days motioned towards the monstrous hay stack jumping around the middle of the barn, “Who’s this guy?”

“That there’s the Haystackinator, my eternal rival. He’s usually too scared to come down here long as I’m around. Guess he thought that with me all tied up, he could jump in and take the whole place over!” Franky explained.

“Well that’s no good. What do you wanna do about him?” Days asked.

“Well, what do you wanna do about him? I’ll do anything for you, Mr. Days. After you helped me down from there, you is my bestest buddy in the whole wide world.”

The paint pot and brush promptly burst out laughing at the two of them.

“Hold that thought.” Days said. He trotted over to the shelf and, with a quick motion of his teeth, shoved the brush into the paint pot’s mouth, shutting both of them up.

“Alright. If you’ll permit me, Franky, I’ve got an idea.” Days resumed.

“What’s the plan, bestest buddy?”

“Well, as you can see, I’m a unicorn. But stuff around here has weird properties that makes it hard for me to lift it with my magic. I just need you to stay completely still so I can lift you and use you to fight that guy.”
Franky was understandably nervous about this.

“E-eh, I don’t know, Mr. Days.”

“It’ll be fine, trust me. Sides’, you’re a pitchfork, aren’t you? I’m just helping you do what you do best.” Days reassured.

“Well, alright. If you say so. I’ll try to stay still.” True to his word, Franky adopted a ridged pose and remained completely motionless, save for his eyes blinking and his mouth opening to breath. With his horn, Days enveloped Franky in his pale red magic field, and began to brandish him in the air like a weapon. He charged at the Haystackinator, dragged Franky along the stone floor to create a spark, and drove his metal prongs into the Haystackinator’s loosely defined butt.

The spark from Franky’s prongs caused the Haystackinator’s body to erupt in flames. Strangely, this had almost no effect on him beyond making him angry.

“Franky? Last time I checked, hay was extremely flammable. Did I miss something here?” Days asked.

“I don’t rightly know, Mr. Days. Try hitting him again!” Franky encouraged. Keeping a safe distance from the flames, Days slashed at the Haystackinator’s eyes and face with Franky. The behemoth reared back in pain, covering the right side of his face in pain. When he removed his hands, Days was shocked to see a glowing red cybernetic eye and a jagged metal panel where he slashed his face. The Haystackinator’s red eye scanned Days for a moment, as if in thought, before it said in a monotone voice,

“BUFF YOU, ASSHOLE.”

Buff you? Days thought. Where did this guy learn how to curse?

The Haystackinator pounded the floor in rage, cracking it. Days stabbed him one more time with Franky, hoping to finally finish him off. Once again, he howled in pain, and began to bounce up and down, cracking the floor further until it could no longer sustain his weight. The floor finally gave way and crumbled into multiple segments, dropping Days, Franky, and the Haystackinator into the dark abyss below.

NO, SERIOUSLY. WHAT IS “BUFF YOU”? I’VE NEVER HEARD THAT PHRASE BEFORE…

At the bottom of the cavern was a large, cylindrical chamber. Several metal pipes extended from the bottom, and various broken wires flailed about from the ceiling, sparking dangerously.

The Haystackinator was lying in a burning heap in one corner of the chamber. Days hit the ground hard, landing on his stomach, and bruising it slightly. Franky landed soon after, burying himself slightly in the ground. He pulled himself out and bounced over to Days as he was pulling himself together.

“You okay, Mr. Days?” Franky asked.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. Trust me, I’ve been through worse.” They both looked to the dying flames.

“Well, we showed him, didn’t we! That was a piece of cake!” Franky cheered.

“Well it could’ve gone…” Days heard a loud clanking noise from the fire and turned to see what it was.

“…worse.” He finished lamely.

From the fire, the Haystackinator emerged, radically different. All of the hay that had once covered him had been burned off, revealing a completely robotic form. Once again, his red eye focused on Days, a large crosshair appearing over him in the Haystackinator’s vision.

“Suzie 9MM.” He called in his monotone voice. Two large missiles, both with faces, emerged from his shoulders.

“I’m right here, sweety pie. Just tell me where to shoot!” One of the missiles told him.

Without a second thought, Days snatched up Franky with his magic and galloped to one of the corners of the chamber, ducking behind a metal pipe. The Haystackinator launched both of his missiles in their general direction, causing both to impact on the pipe, breaking it open and letting loose a large waterfall of dirty water. Needing time to re-arm his weapons, the Haystackinator began to bounce towards the pipe Days and Franky were behind, only to receive a hearty splash of the water to his face, causing him to produce various electrical sparks and knocking him back. He began to spin around on his bouncing plate, clutching his head in agony. As he spun, Days noticed a large red button on his back marked DO NOT PUSH. Naturally, his first inclination was to push it.

“Franky! Hold still!” Days shouted. He grabbed Franky once again and dashed at the robot. When he got close, he dug Franky into the ground and used him to pole vault into the air. Priming his hind legs, Days bucked the red button as hard as he could.

The Haystackinator began to vibrate dangerously. First, his left arm exploded, and then his right arm. Finally, with a loud metallic groan, his head detonated, leaving only his bouncing plate, which attempted to bounce towards Days one last time before finally shutting down. Days gathered himself and laughed heartily.

“Ha! Showed you a thing or twelve! Hey, Franky did you… Franky?” Days looked around for his new friend and spotted him nearby on the floor, neatly snapped in half.

“Oh, no…” He carefully trotted up to the injured pitchfork.

“Mr. Days,” he moaned, “I think I’m a goner. I’m nothing but firewood and toothpicks now…”

“Nonsense. That’s one of the benefits to having a unicorn for a friend, Franky.” With his magic, Days grabbed Franky’s two halves and neatly lined them up. With some extra mental effort, he repaired the splintered wood with a basic spell. Just like that, Franky was back to normal, and Days collapsed, panting, on the ground.

“Ha… see? No (huff) problem.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Days! You saved my bacon! I think that of all the creatures in the world that I’ve ever met, you is got to be the most generous, kindest, nicest, nicest there is.”

“Heh, then clearly you don’t know the same ponies I do. But I digress, we should probably find a way out of here.”

“Yeah, you could be right.” Franky agreed.

Suddenly, the punctured pipe from before began to spit out dirty water at an incredible rate, and the chamber began to flood.

“Oh! Uh, anyway, Mr. Days. I gotta go! See ya!” Franky quickly shouted as he bounced off into a dark corner of the chamber. Days grunted.

“Well, geez. Thanks a lot for leaving me, you bucking farm implement… Well, no getting around it. Time to start swimming.” He looked up at the various flailing wires.

“Actually, on second thought, maybe swimming is a bad idea.” Days quickly galloped to one of the other pipes and began to climb a ladder hidden behind it.

Celestia bless the inventor of the hoof-friendly ladder.

At the top of the pipe sat a lone Pinkie Pad. Panicking slightly, Days contacted the Author.

“NEED HELP! WIRES! WATER! ELECTROCUTION!”

You don’t need to shout. Want me to send more knives so you can cut the wires down?

“Knives aren’t going to help here! I need to get up to that exit before the water touches me AND the wires!”

Hmmm. Well, we’re going a little off script here, but I think I have something you can use.

“Off script? What do you-” Before Days could finish, the hole in space opened and a pogo stick fell out.

“A pogo stick? Is this a joke?”

Get bouncing, Q-Bert.

The Author broke contact, leaving Days with two threats and one pogo stick. Obviously lacking other options, he mounted the device and bounced a few times to get it going. With a mighty leap, he bounced over to the next pipe across the room. With a few more bounces, he made it to the stone exit at the top just as the water stopped rising, inches away from the platform. Sighing with relief, Days chucked the silly toy into the electrified water and went through the exit.

IF YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING A POGO STICK, DON’T WORRY. NEITHER WAS I…

Days had ended up in a back room in the barn. In the corners were the usual piles of hay, but more notably, a yellow earth pony wearing a red robe was standing in the middle of the room, reading scripture from a large stone tome. Days was ecstatic to see another pony.

“Hey, buddy!” He shouted, dashing to the monk pony’s side, “what are you doing here?” The monk said nothing.

“Dude?” Still nothing.

“Hey!” Nnnnnothing.

“PAY ATTENTION TO ME.” Days shouted, jumping onto the monk’s tome. The monk let out a low hiss and flicked the tome upward with surprising strength, launching Days onto an upper floor.

He glanced down at the monk from his higher perch and shook his head.

“Looks like somepony needs to work on his social skills.” Turning around, Days noticed another animate sack of bits bouncing around on the floor.

“Here I am, you greedy bastard!” The sack shouted. Ignoring the random insult, Days snatched the sack with his teeth and stored it in his hammerspace pocket.

A few more these and I’ll have more money than Cereal Velocity’s weekly salary. And that guy makes a lot of bits.

Having secured his impromptu reward, Days jumped through a nearby open window.

WHO KNEW MONEY WAS SO RUDE…

Outside, Days had ended up on a small wooden ledge with a ladder leading up. Curious as to what might be up there, he began climbing. There were some wasps buzzing around the ladders, but a little crafty timing was all it took to avoid them. At the very top of the ladder was a single metal plank, positioned much like a diving board over a large empty vat below.

In a normal situation, only a complete idiot would do something like jump off a metal board with no water to cushion the impact, but for some reason, Days felt almost mesmerized by the extreme height. Something about compelled him to jump, like a little voice in the back of his head saying he would be okay. Enthralled by the little voice, Days threw caution to the wind and swan dove from the perch, suddenly, Days transformed in a rather cartoony fashion into a large, metal anvil. He flew to the bottom of the vat and pounded the ground with extreme force, changing back to normal when he did. Nearby, Days could hear the sound of a metal gate sliding open.

There’s another one for the “repressing” folder. He quipped mentally.

He exited the vat via another ladder and made his way towards the front of the barn again, in the direction he heard the gate open. Jumping over the dirty water, he entered a small cavern, at the end of which was another sack of bits.

“So, another wise guy? C’mon, then!” It taunted.

Once again, Days grabbed and stored the money.

When I get home, I’m seriously gonna throw all of these bits into a little pool and swim in it. That’s what rich ponies do with their money, right?

Exiting the cavern, Days skimmed the area for any details he might have missed. Up on a ledge above a large sunflower, he spotted one last sack of bits bouncing about. He trotted up the small path to the large sunflower in the hopes that he could use it to get a little boost. As he got near, the sunflower awoke, clearly a woman judging by its face, as well as its… exceptionally large assets.

“Scuse me, uh, miss. Would you mind giving me a little boost up to that ledge there?” He asked as politely as he could.

“Go away,” she replied, strangely seductively, “get that long, pointy horn of yours away from me.”

“Uh… sure…?” Days backed away slowly. He was going to need some help with this one. He remembered passing a bee outside the barn, so he returned to see him still wallowing in the same manner he was before.

“Oh, look who’s back! Mister selfish pony! What? Finally find it in your heart to give some bits to a poor ex-king?” The bee complained.

“No, actually. Though I can certainly guess why you aren’t a king anymore. Anyway, you know anything about that sunflower chick over there?” Days motioned towards her.

“Oh, her? Oh, she’s lovely. Whole reason my wife threw me out, actually. I’d really love to pollinate her. She’s got stigmas like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Don’t need to know that, bro. So why don’t you go over and, uh, pollinate?”

“She’s shy. Won’t let me anywhere near those big knockers of hers. Keeps on covering them up.”

“Okay,” Days said, becoming progressively more disgusted by the conversation, “so if I help you get at this lady, what’s in it for me?”

“I’ll get her to help you get up to my stash of cash there.” The bee replied.

“Just what I wanted to hear. Alright, hang tight.” Days began to walk away, but quickly stopped and turned back to the bee.

“Wait, if you have a stash of cash, why were you asking for handouts before?”

“Oh, that’s… uh…”

Damn. He’s sussed me. The bee thought.

Ha! Sussed him. Days thought.

Days decided it might be a good idea to get a second opinion, so he turned to a nearby swarm of smaller bees.

“Hey, guys. Got a sec?” He asked them.
The bees gave a small buzz in response and flew over to Days. He instinctively braced himself for a barrage of stings, but instead got a barrage of tickles.

“Ah! Ha ha aha! Stop! Stop!” The bees stopped.

“You guys are tickling bees? Well, that’s unexpected, but certainly pleasant.” The bees gave an affirmative buzz.

“Hmm… actually, that gives me an idea. You guys got any friends?” The bees gave another affirmative buzz.

“Can you round them up for me and go tickle that sunflower over there?” The bees seemed reluctant to go to the trouble of gathering the others.

“Would it persuade you if I said I was a personal friend of Fluttershy’s?” As soon as he said the legendary name, every nearby tickle bee gathered in one spot.

Fluttershy and me are really more “acquaintances” than “friends”, but they don’t really need to know that.

“Alright! There’s your target!” Days shouted, pointing to the sunflower, “Get tickling!” The bees gave their usual affirmative and began to swarm the sunflower. In the surge of tickles, she finally raised her leaves away from her chest, revealing her exceptionally large… stigmas.

The king bee, noticing this, took his opportunity and pounced like a wolf.

I’d go into more detail, but I’d really rather not.

After the bee and sunflower finished their business, Days trotted over to discuss payment.

“Cheers, little fella,” the bee said, “I feel like a new man.”

“So do I.” The sunflower agreed. “Mister pony, care for a bounce?”

Days was… well he was certainly feeling something, but I can’t think of a name for it. Awkward probably describes it the closest.

“Sure…?” Suddenly, the flower tossed him into the air. He landed on her assets and bounced all the way up to the small alcove where the money resided.

“Hey! I’m here! Hurry up! Pick me up, shithead!” the money complained. Days did just that.

Half of me wants to brag about what just happened to Charge when I get home, and half of me sorely wishes that I never remember that for the rest of my life. Not sure who to trust here.

Jumping down from the alcove, Days decided he had been near the barn for FAR too long and promptly left the area the way he first arrived, grumbling some more.

Author’s Note: THAT. Took forever. Seriously. I think this might be the longest chapter of any story I’ve ever typed. Not sure when the next one will be, midterms and such are coming up. I’d say I’ll try to get it out sooner, but I said that last time and, well…
Oh, and for fans of the game, you probably noticed that I cut a few corners here and there. I just trimmed out the unimportant stuff or stuff I didn't have jokes for. Just an FYI.

Chapter 4

Author’s Note: Alright, I said I’m going to get two chapters out this week, and by god, I WILL. You know. Probably. Anyways, technically I think you’re supposed to do Bat’s Tower and then Sloprano, but I always did Sloprano first, so that’s what we’re going with.

CHAPTER 4

Having returned to Windy central, Days ventured to the right of the wooden hollow, rather reluctantly towards the poop-covered zone. However, as soon as he passed under the brown archway, the foulest stench imaginable filled his lungs. The scent was so incredibly thick, that no oxygen could find its way in. Days began to panic inside his head, since speaking was clearly out of the question at the moment.

Oh dear Celestia. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna-

Suddenly, a thick material completely covered Days’ face from behind, his vision becoming clouded by small eyepieces.

“AH! THING! ON MY FACE! GET IT OFF!” He screamed. He then realized that he was screaming and, by extension, breathing normally. Days cautiously ran his hooves over his covered face and realized that he had been fitted with a gas mask. Looking behind himself, he saw Pinkie Pie, fitted with a similar gas mask, giving him a happy look. (Or at least he assumed she was giving him a happy look, what with the mask and all. There aren’t a lot of other looks Pinkie Pie can give somepony.)

“Oh. Thanks… Pinkie.” Days said, his voice muffled by the filter. She gave a happy nod.

“No problem! You can keep that if you like!” Pinkie replied. Before Days could respond, she turned around, exited the poop zone, and disappeared back into the dirt. Days stood in stunned silence as his mind tried to catch up, before deciding to forgo the process and just move on.

To his left, there stood a large spiral mountain, the contents of which should be rather obvious. Flying around it were more of the Dung Beetles Days had met earlier, some shooting him dirty looks but otherwise remaining indifferent to his presence. In front of him was a small hut with a lantern hanging next to the door. Seeing that the poop caked ground receded in favor of a small stone pathway in front of the hut, Days decided that any opportunity to not be standing in fecal matter was one best taken, and made a break for the hut’s front door.

SOMEPONY’S GOING TO NEED A BATH AFTER THIS ONE…

Meanwhile, up in the Blueblood estate, the Prince himself paced anxiously around his throne, eager for the Professor to return with a solution.

“He better hurry up…” The Prince groaned. He shot a passing glance to his guards, who were both staring at him.

“What are you looking at?!” He sneered.

“N-nothing, sire.” The taller guard reassured. The Prince sat down on his throne.

“Good…!” The Prince held a hoof up to his ear.

“Aahh, I think I can hear him.” True to the Prince’s words, the excited shouts of the Professor could be heard nearby.
The Professor’s floating chair burst in flying up to the center of the room.

“Eureka! Eureka! I’ve found it, I’ve found it! Ja, ja, eureka!” The Professor composed himself and gave a small bow.

“Ah, my lord. Ha ha, you’ll never guess what? I zink I have found ze problem.” The Prince gave a small motion with his hoof for the Professor to continue. The Professor levitated his blueprint easel next to him and extended his pointing stick.

“Now, ve have here, if you look… ze table.” He motioned to the drawing of the table.

“If you analyze ze table closely, as I have done most particularly, you vill see, zat zere is a gap!” The Professor turned his chair to face the Prince. “And ve’re not talking any old gap here, my lord. It is a sizeable one.” He turned his chair back to the easel.

“Now, mirror goes here,” he said, motioning to the drawing of the mirror, “Vat happens? Ve have ze fulcrum here, ze mirror here,” he turned to the Prince once again, “Veight problem, not good. Mirror falls off because of a gap. Ja, zat is vat is ze problem… ze gap!” the Professor finally finished, retracting his pointing stick. The Prince rubbed his chin in thought.

“Hmmm, I think I see. And the solution?” He asked, motioning for the Professor to continue again.

“Ah, now zis is where it gets complicated. I was mulling over vat would fit in ze gap. I tried many zings.” As the Professor rattled off a quick list of the things he tried, the two nearby guards had both fallen asleep.

“But! Ze one thing, and I vas sure of it at ze time, I vas sure it vas a pony. And sure enough, it vas.” The Prince held up his hoof to stop the Professor.

“Say no more, Professor. I shall call for a peasant pony to fill this gap immediately.” The Professor shook his head.

“Apologies, my lord, but it is not zat simple. Ve need a very, very, VERY particular pony in order to fill zis gap exactly.” The Professor motioned to a drawing of a pony near the bottom of the easel.

“It needs to be a unicorn stallion, with a short black mane, red fur, and a cutie mark of three z’s.”

“Why does his fur and cutie mark matter?” The Prince asked.

“Vell, you vant your table to be aesthetically pleasing, do you not, my lord?” The Professor asked back. The Prince gave an enthusiastic nod.

“But, of course! What kind of Canterlot noble has no sense of style? So, we find this pony. And then…?”

“Zen, my liege, we put him here.” The Professor pointed to the gap in the Prince’s table.

“You no break your mirror, ve don’t get duct tape.” The Prince gave a small nod and turned to his snoozing guards.

“Gentlecolts.” The two guards snapped to attention.

“Yes, my liege?” The taller one asked.

“Get me this red pony. Search wherever you can.”

“Yes, my liege.” The tall guard replied with a bow.

I WOULDN’T THINK RED WOULD GO WELL WITH BROWN, BUT I’M NOT AN INTERIOR DECORATOR, SO WHATEVER…

Although the smell of poo was much tamer inside the wooden hut, Days decided to just leave his gas mask on; since he had a feeling he’d need it later. The hut itself was rather sparse, with only a Dung Beetle sitting behind a desk with a glowing lamp on it, and a large trap door in the corner.

“Hey, alright there. How ya doing?” The Beetle greeted, surprisingly pleasant in its demeanor.

“Yeah, hi. How are ya.” Days returned the greeting.

“Would you like to come in now? Yeah, sit down. Wa d’ya want?” The Beetle asked. Days trotted into the center of the room.

“How the hay do you guys stand this smell?”

“Ah, well, yeah, we’re like fucking dung beetles. And we roll the poo around, fuck knows what for.”

“That’s… interesting. So, listen, I-” Days began, but was quickly cut off.

“Do you want some poo?” The Beetle offered.

“I-I, I don’t… what would I do with crap?” Days stammered, trying to think of any logical reason he would want some brown stuff.

“Hey, get your fucking arse in there,” The Beetle instructed, suddenly dropping its pleasant demeanor, “there’s these fucking cows. Get ‘em in there, get ‘em to crap, and I’ll make you a ball of poo. And you can do what the hell you like with it.” The Beetle gave a dismissive motion with one of its arms.

“Go on, on your bike. Are you still here? Fuck off!” Days, as was becoming the norm for him, was dumbfounded, but decided against arguing with the giant mutant dung beetle and leapt down the nearby trap door, landing in, what else, more poo.

So that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a one-sided conversation. Food for thought.

At the end of the long hallway was a tall, cylindrical chamber with ropes dangling from wooden poles and another doorway near the top. Feeling brave, Days threw caution to the wind, jumped from his perch to grab the nearest rope, missed completely, and fell into the smelly abyss below.

SPLAT!

After being dropped back on his perch by Death’s hand, Days decided to hold very tightly onto his caution, and pulled the rope over to him with his magic. In a few minutes time, Days climbed to the top and leapt to open passageway, landing safely. After a short trudge up another crap-caked incline, Days entered a small, light filled door at the top.

TIMES LIKE THIS MAKE YOU WONDER WHY THERE ARE SO MANY DIFFERENT NAMES FOR POOP…

In front of Days was something somewhat surprising. Instead of the usual poop-scape, he saw a fairly normal looking farm-like area. Around the perimeter, there were multiple wooden pens, where the sounds of mooing could be heard. To the far left was a large drink dispenser hooked up to a tankard of prune juice, all positioned over a feeding trough on a wooden stand. Finally, in the center was a fair-sized patch of plains and grass, with a large, black bull stomping around it.

“Hey, you!” Days called to the bull, hoping it would be like the polite bovines in Ponyville. The bull turned its head and shot him an extremely dirty look.

“Okay, so, that beetle upstairs told me to come here to get some poo. Something to do with cows or something. Was he talking about you?” In response, the bull took on a fighting stance and began snarling angrily.

“GRR. RED! RED! I DON’T LIKE RED! GRRRR! I HATE RED! GO AWAY!” he drawled, head shaking in rage. Days looked around for the offending red article, his eyes eventually falling to his red fur.

“Hey, pal. I’ll have you know that I’m not red. I’m crimson. Big difference.” Oblivious to Days’ scolding, the bull continued charging around the plain, possibly in an even angrier fashion than before.

Well, angry or not, I apparently need poo, and I need a cow, or at least something close to a cow, to give it to me. As Days calculated his plan, he glanced over at the tankard of prune juice and smirked. And I think I know how to get it.

Jumping over to the small pathway to his left, Days scaled the large tower/drink dispenser, carefully dodging some random rolling poo balls, and ended on the large metal tap on top. With some controlled galloping, he turned the nozzle, and sure enough a large stream of purple dynamite flowed down into the trough. As the demonic drink poured, three release latches marked with bulls-eyes extended from the wooden pens.

Oh. Am I supposed to let those cows I heard out so they can drink this stuff? Well, I just assumed I had to let the bull tire himself out so he’d drink it, but that sounds way faster. Let’s go with that.

After carefully climbing down, Days positioned himself near the three targets and called out to the irate bovine.

“Hey, bull! Think those horns of yours are sharp? They don’t look like they could pop a balloon, much less gore me!” he teased. The bull snorted and charged at Days, who lead him around the edge of the pen as he smacked the three targets.
Three pens opened up and three female cows moseyed out.

“Ah, Mavis, Olive, how are ye this fine day?” The first cow asked the other two.

“Pretty hungry, if I may say, Betsy.” Mavis replied.

“Couldn’t agree with you more, Mavis,” Olive agreed, “what’s say the three of us enjoy a nice patch of grass?” Betsy and Mavis nodded and they all trotted over to a large patch. Days tapped his chin.

Well, they’re out, but they ain’t drinking. Perhaps a little persuasion is in order.

Positioning the cows between himself and the bull, Days began shouting taunts again.

“Why so cranky, bull?! Got some sand where the sun don’t shine?!” Again, the bull snarled and charged, oblivious to the innocent cows in front of him. He struck the first cow, who struck the other two like dominoes, luckily missing with his horns but still shoving them rather hard.

“Goodness! What a ruffian!” Betsy exclaimed.

“Quite right, I do believe I’ve lost my appetite.” Mavis complained.

“Indeed. Let’s go have a drink instead.” Olive suggested. The three cows marched up the wooden stand and stood in a line in front of the trough.

“Oh, my. Looks to be cranberry flavor. Haven’t had that in quite a while, have we girls?” Betsy asked. Mavis and Olive shook their heads and the three of them began to drink. After about a minute, a loud rumbling could be heard from all three of their stomachs, and tiny dribbles of poo began to leak out.

“Oh my!” Betsy shouted.

“Oh dear!” Mavis cried.

“Oh no!” Olive screamed.

“It’s the screaming shits!” All three exclaimed at once. Without missing a beat, all three dashed down the ramp to the center of the pen and sat down on the large grate to relieve themselves.

“Well, this is hardly dignified.” Betsy complained.

“I won’t tell the other cows if you girls won’t.” Mavis pleaded.

“My lips are sealed, dearie.” Olive reassured.

Days watched as they emptied their bowels (which is something he never thought he’d have to do in his life), and when he was sure there was more than enough crap in the hole, decided to put an end to this in the fastest, albeit least ethical way, possible. One last time he positioned the cows between himself and the bull and called out a final insult.

“Hey bull! Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?! ‘Cause I kissed her with this one!”

“GRRRRAAAAAGGHHH!” The bull shouted in pure, unbridled hatred and rage, and charged forward with all of his might. This time, the cows were unfortunate enough to be met with his horns, the force behind them so great that all three exploded into a shower of gore and bones. The bull stopped and panted on top of the grate. A faint snapping noise could be heard from it, and instantly the bull knew he had made a mistake.

“WHY AM I SUCH A FAT BAST-” Before he could finish, the grate gave way, and the bull plummeted into the unknown depths, screaming all the way.

Wish I had a video camera. I could’ve sent that in to “Equestria’s Strangest Bathroom Experiences.” Oh well.

Days took a glance down the hole to check the level of poop, only to slip on a small patch of blood and fall in after the bull.

SO MUCH POOP, SO LITTLE TIME…

Expecting what he was about to land in, Days quickly pulled his gas mask down over his neck and held his breath mid-air. Upon landing in the liquid unpleasantness, Days’ mind went into overdrive, and he paddled with all of his might to a nearby hole in the wall, which dropped him right next to a Pinkie Pad and, unfortunately, above the flooded exit back to the Beetle’s hut. Grunting, Days stood on the pad and called the Author.

“I’m really not in the mood for a conversation right now, so just help me and we can both get on with things.”

Hmmm…

“HEY!”

What? Huh? Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. There were a few things back there that didn’t go according to the script.

“Again with this script thing. Look, when I get a second, you and me are going to sit down and have a little chat about this, but right now I need a way out of here.”

The exit's right there, just swim down. I mean, I get that it’s poop and all, but…

“I… can’t.”

What?

“I don’t know how to swim underwater. I can paddle, that’s about it.”

Pfft, are you serious?

“Just shut up and help me.”

Alright, alright, hang on.

The portal in space opened, but instead of the usual helpful chotchky, Pinkie Pie stuck her head out and grabbed Days’ head with her hooves. Once again, large chunks of knowledge, this time about swimming, were forcefully downloaded into his brain. With a little salute, Pinkie ducked back into the hole and it closed up.

Good?

“I think I just lost my entire memory of kindergarten.”

You’re welcome.

Days dived down into the liquid whatsit, and with his newly acquired swimming expertise, navigated back towards the trap door he first dropped in from. On the way though, he was distracted by the nearby sounds of jingling bits and pleas for grabbing. He surfaced to take a look around, and sure enough, a bag of bits was bouncing around on a nearby ledge.

Days jumped out of the muck and approached the bag, who greeted him in the usual bag of bits fashion.

“Here I am, ya greedy bastard!” it taunted. Days snatched the bag and stored it away.

Good. Maybe I can put this towards the THOUSAND BATHS I’m going to need when this is all over. Aloe and Lotus are going to be retiring early.

Days jumped back into the stuff and swam a little more until he finally popped back out of the trap door. The Beetle was nowhere to be found, so he decided to go check outside.

NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU SCRUB, YOU’LL NEVER BE CLEAN…

As Days quickly cantered outside (taking a moment to re-secure his gas mask), the Beetle flew up to him.

“Yeah, there it is, over there. A big ball of poo.” He motioned to the ball of poo next to the hut.

“Wow. Thank you, SO bucking much.” Days replied dryly.

“You’re welcome to it, mate.” The Beetle flew away, leaving Days with his newly acquired “prize.”

Okay, ball of crap. Now what the flying buck am I supposed to do with this thing?

Days took a glance around for possible uses. At the base of the pooey mountain, there was a large, boarded up entrance. Up at the top, there was another entrance, that presumably connected to the first somehow. Finally, in the middle, there was a particularly large dung beetle snoozing away, blocking the path.

Okay, plan time. Step 1: Get rid of big beetle. Step 2: Roll poo into hole at the top to, hopefully, bust open the hole at the bottom. Step 3: See what’s in there.

Leaving the ball of poo for a moment, Days climbed the path around the mountain until he ended up on a ledge directly above the big beetle. Grabbing a chunk of poo from the mountain wall with his magic, Days tried to remember something he learned in chemistry class back in high school.

If I remember correctly, fecal matter has a high concentration of methane, which can be explosive with the right adjustments. So, just add a little spark…

Days focused his magic at the center of the chunk until he could hear a slight fizzle coming from it.

And bombs away.

He dropped the sizzling poo chunk into the sleeping beetle’s mouth. Just as it woke up, confused, the chunk detonated in his stomach, blowing him to pieces.

Step 1 complete. Now for step 2.

Returning to the hut, Days grabbed the poo ball with his magic and rolled it up the hill, causing it to gather more poo and grow in size. At the top, he was about to shove it into the hole, when he once again heard the tell-tale sound of jingling bits. Using the poo ball as a stepping stone, Days jumped up to the very peak of the mountain to find another sack of bits.

“Hey, where the fuck you been, you ginger bastard?” Ignoring yet another misinterpretation of his color, Days grabbed the sack and stashed it away.

I think this is one mountain climbing experience I won’t be bragging about anytime soon.

Stepping down from the peak, Days grabbed the poo ball and tossed it into the opening. Various clunking and smashing sounds could be heard, before the ball finally burst out of the hole at the base, completely shattering the makeshift barricade.

Step 2, all done. Now let’s go see what’s in there. Hopefully not more evil hay.

Days climbed back down to the base of the mountain and entered the stinky passage.

FILLIES AND GENTLECOLTS, THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR…

The poo cavern inside was lit up with various torches (which seems like a bad idea, what with all of the potential explosive gasses), and a poo pathway zigzagged around the center.

As Days entered the cavern, he was suddenly blindsided by a backwards flying dung beetle.

“Ow!” Days shouted, “hey buddy, you don’t have eyes in the back of your head! Try facing forward when you’re flying!” The beetle turned around. There was an extremely panicked look on his face as he attempted to explain himself.

“Eh! Alright there, take my advice and get outta here, there’s something really bad in there! You just don’t want to go in there.” He babbled. Days shook his hooves, trying to calm the insect down.

“Slow down there, dude. Take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.” The beetle took a breath and sat down on the ground.

“Right, ok, it all started about two days ago. It was me and the lads, we were havin’ a cuppa tea, and next thing we know, Tezza’s gone! We couldn’t find him! We thought ‘ah maybe he’s gone off, you know like, do a bit a shoppin’ or summat.’ He never came back! Bazza was next, he was just walkin’ along, mindin’ his own business. So I stood there and I said ‘Bazza, how’re ya doin’ there, like, mate?’ And he waved over… and that was it! This thing came outta the shite! And I thought to myself, ‘oh no. Oh! I’m getting’ outta heres! So I ‘ad ta hide first. And when I came out, ‘cause I thought it was all clear, the lads had gone! The bastards had nailed me in!” The beetle finished his story with a few pants, then continued talking.
“I’m outta here, you can do what you like. There’s some money up there,” he pointed to the clear glass at the back of the cavern, “if you can be arsed to get it. Seeya’s.” He gave a short wave and flew out of the cavern the way Days had come in.

Well, I’m not a fan of monsters living in poo, but on the other hoof, cash.

Days trotted down the pathway and saw some animate pieces of sweet corn hopping about.

“Cool, sweet corn. How’s it going?” he greeted. The sweet corn did pretty much nothing. Suddenly, a booming, slightly rhythmic voice erupted from the pool of doody in the center.

“BRRRING ME SOME SWEET CORN!” It demanded. Days looked around for the source of the voice.

“Hello? Anypony there? I really don’t need any more disembodied voices in my life right now!” He gave a quick shrug and started gathering sweet corn, in the same fashion as the cheese before it. As he did, various strange poo-related happenings, such as poo from the ceiling or a giant poo hand attempting to slap him, tried to impede his progress, but he paid them no mind and continued chucking the screaming sweet corn into the pool.

When he tossed the last piece in, he looked over the edge to see what had happened to it. As he did, a loud rumbling, akin to sewage pipes overflowing, shook the cavern.

“Uh oh.”

Somewhere in the cavern, a loud score of orchestral music began to play. Slowly, a large mound of feces with eyes and a mouth rose from the pool, clutching the crying sweet corn between its fingers. When it reached the top of its ascension, it jammed the sweet corn into its mouth, turning it into a makeshift yellow tooth. The creature cleared it’s throat, checked its voice with a “mi mi mi mi mi”, and began to sing.

(Everypony sing along, now!)

I~ AM!

THE GRRREAT MIGHTY POO,

AND I’M GOING TO THROW MY SHIT AT YOU!

A HUGE SUPPLY OF TISH,

COME FROM MY CHOCOLATE STARFISH,

HOW ABOUT SOME SCAT YOU LITTLE TWAT?

Before Days could think, scream, vomit, or any other completely understandable action, the large mound of animate poo began ripping chunks off of itself and throwing them at him. Dodging backwards, Days spotted a Pinkie Pad nearby. After dodging another pooey projectile, Days stood on the pad and quickly contacted the Author.

“GIANT TALKING CRAP!”

Already prepared.

The hole in space opened up and a very large roll of two-ply toilet paper, the eternal enemy of poo, fell out. Grabbing it with his magic, Days waited for an opportunity to toss it into the monster’s mouth. Sure enough, one came when the monster paused its ass-tastic assault to let loose a loud, long note.

AAAAAAAAA~

Quickly, Days dunked the TP right down the monster’s throat, causing it to gag and choke. The monster retracted into the pool, then popped up again back in the center to continue its song.

DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU’LL SURVIVE IN HERE?

YOU DON’T SEEM TO KNOW WHICH CRRREAK YOU’RE IN~!

SWEET CORN IS THE ONLY THING THAT MAKES IT THOUGH MY REAR,

HOW DO YOU THINK I KEEP THIS LOVELY GRRRIN?

The monster took a second to show off its sweet corn teeth.

HAVE SOME MORE CAVIAR.

It chucked a particularly large chunk at the Pinkie Pad Days was standing on. Days managed to dodge out of the way, but the pad was completely destroyed. With some more jumping and dodging, Days found another pad down the path.

“Need more TP!”

With pleasure.

Another roll appeared, and again Days brandished it. The monster, despite the fact that it was starting to wise up to Days’ tactics, could not resist the need for musical punctuality, and let out another mouth exposing long note.

AAAAAAAAA~

And for its punctuality, it received another roll of TP in the throat. After coughing it up, it once again returned to the center pool, the tempo of the music rising with its anger.

NOW I’M RRREALLY GETTING RRATHER MAD,

YOU’RE LIKE A NIGGLY TICKLY SHITTY LITTLE TAG NUT.

WHEN I’VE KNOCKED YOU OUT WITH ALL MY BAB,

I’M GOING TO TAKE YOUR HEAD

AND RRAM IT UP MY BUTT!

“Your butt?”

MY BUTT!

“Your butt?”

THAT’S RIGHT, MY BUTT!

“Ugh…”

MY BUTT!

“UGH…!”

MY BUUUUUUUUUTT!

The loud note from the monster cracked the glass in the back of the cavern, but Days had bigger things to worry about. The note had also shaken a loose chunk of crap from the ceiling, which crushed the pad Days had been using. Again, he had to dodge the onslaught of oh-no, and find another pad.

“One more!”

Have fun.

The final roll of the giant TP was dispensed to Days. However, the monster had anticipated this, and began shortening its notes to match the tempo, firing them off in rapid succession while ducking between the various pools of crap around the cavern.

AAAAAA~!

AAAAAA~!

AAAAAA~!

AAAAAAAAA~!

He had held the last one a little bit longer, allowing Days just enough time to cram the roll down his throat. The monster realized that it was losing, and decided it needed to finish Days off with one last bout of musical astonishment. Once again, it returned to the center pool, and let out the longest, loudest note it could.

aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

The sheer volume of the monster’s note did absolutely nothing to Days, but it did finally shatter the glass in the back of the cavern, revealing the cash the beetle had mentioned, but more notably, a toilet flushing lever. In his heart, Days knew exactly what needed to be done. With one last bout of acrobatics, he made his way up to the emergency flush, grabbed it with his magic, and pulled it down with all of his psychic might. The ancient pipes obliged his request, as the monster began to sink and spin rapidly.

“AH! YOU CURSED PONY, LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE! I’M FLUSHING, I’M FLUSHING! OH, WHAT A WORLD, WHAT A WORLD! WHO’D HAVE THOUGHT A GOOD LITTLE PONY LIKE YOU COULD HAVE DESTROYED MY BEAUTIFUL CLAGGINESS! OH, I’M GOING! AGGHH! NO…!”

The monster finally vanished into the depths, leaving behind only a loud fart as the mysterious music finally ended.
Shaking his head, Days turned to see the money he had earned.

“Here I am, you greedy bastard!” Days stored it away.

I’ll be surprised if I ever set hoof in a bathroom ever again.

Returning to the now empty center pool, Days glanced down and saw that a metal door had opened up near the bottom. Jumping down onto a few platforms, he reached the metal door to explore the unknown depths.

ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE GREAT MIGHTY POO, EVERYPONY…

The room Days found himself in could be described as “part metal, part crap.” The walls and floor were made of a simple grey metal, but they were all caked with feces. The only other way out was a flooded passage in the center. Lacking other options, Days dived down and swam to the other side. What he didn’t expect were several very sharp fan blades spinning around the tunnel, the first of which cleanly bisected him.

SLICE!

Taking special care to avoid the fans this time, Days eventually managed to make it to the other side and emerged from the water surface in a small pipe. At the end was a rope and ladder, both of which Days climbed, finally ending up at the top of a large metal cylinder, free of poo-stained air. He removed the gas mask and breathed easy, keeping it around his neck just in case. Crossing a metal bridge suspended over a pool of lava, Days came to a small rock platform being guarded by Prince Blueblood’s two guards.

“You’ll have to pay the toll.” The taller guard said. Days gave a small grunt.

“A toll? In the Windy territory? I shouldn’t even be here, why are you guys?”

“We don’t make the rules, sir. We just enforce them. Now pay up.”

“Ugh, fine. How much?” Days asked.

“One thousand bits.” The taller guard said. Days checked the funds he had managed to amass. Though he had quite a bit, sadly he still came up short. Days’ face scrunched into a vision of pure rage.

“I, EGH, GRAGH, ARGH..!” He babbled angrily until finally composing himself.

“(SIGH) I’ll be back later…” He hung his head and turned around to return to Windy central to look for some extra cash. As he exited the area via a nearby ledge, the short guard turned to the small guard.

“Say, wasn’t he that pony the prince wanted?” The taller guard shrugged.

“Didn’t get a good look at him. He said he’d be back later, we’ll check then.”

Author’s note: And there we have Sloprano, everyone’s favorite part of Conker. And I will try, try, TRY to get another chapter out sometime this week. I owe it to you guys.

Also, as a side note, Lazy Days has an ask tumblr now! Yeah, I know what you’re thinking; the character’s barely been in anything. Well, I had a tumblr made for following other pony tumblrs, I had a character to use, so I figured “why the hell not?” and here we are. The link’s on my profile page, questions will be answered either in text or with Pony-maker made pictures. (I can’t draw to save my life.)