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.