Hello all. I've been intermittently working on a rewrite/continuation of an old green I was writing a long, long time ago, and I've decided that now is as good a time as any to start posting what I have. It was originally posted in May of 2018, in response to a prompt posted by another anon. The premise was a HiE scenario, in which Dale Gribble from King of the Hill was isekaied somehow into Equestria. It was fairly popular at the time, and I wound up writing quite a bit. I completed an entire story arc, and had a second arc that I planned on doing eventually. However, I kept putting it off, and well...time makes fools of us all. Eventually the thread 404'd and was forgotten.
I'm not sure how many people from that era are still around who would be interested in reading this, but every now and then I'll get asked about it, and I've been promising this rewrite for years now. A draft of the first few chapters was posted a few months ago in the writing thread, but I'm not sure how many people actually noticed.
In any case, I feel like it's better to give this story its own dedicated thread, as opposed to dumping massive amounts of text into the writing general. This will eventually end up on fimfiction, but since it originated on this site I feel like I would rather give you guys the first shot at reading it.
The current working title for this story is:
A Pocketful of Sand
Here is the archive of the original green:
https://mlpol.net/mlpol/archive/146529
While I feel like I've more or less got it hammered into a form fit for human consumption, this is still basically a work in progress. Comments/notes/criticism is appreciated. Also, as is the case with the rest of my threads, if my endless tripfagging and walls of text start getting annoying, feel free to tell me I'm a faggot, and I will stop posting, or move this to a more appropriate containment thread.
/mlpol/ - My Little Politics
File (): F7B107650444B097CA1EF039C74C2572-63320.jpg (61.8 KB, 600x600, E9A8653B1F5BE17A9FC7FD12002B1ADD-63302.jpg)
>>374307
1: The Grassy Knoll
My head was pounding. There was a smell of wild grass and flowers. Dew was soaking into my jumpsuit. I opened my eyes and squinted into bright sunlight.
Sunlight?
The last thing I could remember was the house I was fumigating. I had been tracking blatella germanica, the German cockroach, one of the most cunning creatures known to man. For hours our game of cat and roach had gone on, until finally I had the bastard cornered in the cellar. We faced off. I remember he'd waved his antennae in defiance, mocking me to the last. I admired his courage. I pulled the trigger of my spray wand and let him have it. Poison spewed forth, a thick miasma of toxic death, slowly filling up the basement. I could remember my head swimming, it had been getting harder to think straight. I'd turned to the side...I remembered seeing my reflection in a mirror...
My head throbbed again. The poison. That had to be it. I must have passed out from the fumes. It's happened before. Damn crafty roaches, always hiding in unventilated basements.
How did I get outside, though?
I sat up groggily. I was alone on a grassy knoll. Gentle hills rolling off in all directions, covered in wild grasses and flowers. There was no sign of the house, or of civilization of any kind. The sky was a deep blue, without the usual haze of pollution. This didn't look like any part of Arlen I'd ever seen.
I must be miles out in the country. Where am I? How did I get here?
I felt a chill run down my spine. What if it hadn't been an accident? What if that basement had been left unventilated on purpose? Whoever did this must have waited until I'd passed out, and then dragged me out to this meadow and left me for dead.
"The question is who," I said aloud. "And why?"
Was the roach behind it? No, that couldn't be. Blatella germanica was crafty to be sure, but not crafty enough to pull off something like this. Plus, there was the size difference. No, whoever did this had to be large enough and strong enough to carry a full-grown man. But what if the cockroach had an accomplice?
"Yes, it all makes sense..." I mused.
The roach's job had been to create a diversion. He would lure me down to the basement, where I would have no choice but to use poison. His partner would have sealed up the windows in advance. Then, when I'd passed out from the fumes--
I rose slowly to my feet, and took a closer look at my surroundings. The terrain was completely unfamiliar; as far as I could tell, I was in the middle of nowhere. I might have left Texas entirely. Somebody had wanted to get me out of the way, that much was certain, and they had gone to a lot of trouble to do it.
"So the real question is: who stands to gain from my disappearance?"
The Federal government was the obvious answer. Maybe a little too obvious. They had to know that I was getting close, but this was a bold move even for them. There had to be other parties involved.
I reached into the pocket of my jumpsuit, and frowned.
That's odd. Where are my smokes?
I felt in the other pockets. Nothing. I'd bought a whole carton the other day, and I knew for certain I'd had at least half a pack on me when I entered the house.
I felt my stomach tighten. The situation was even more dire than I'd thought. The Federal government, in collaboration with a roach and possibly other unknown parties, had conspired to maroon me in an unknown location without smokes. I could feel the early onset of panic: sweat breaking out on my forehead... heart palpitations... tunnel vision...
Calm down Gribble, you're trained for this...
I began to perform an ancient Indian breathing technique I'd learned from my friend John Redcorn. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. In and out. Over and over again. John Redcorn said he used that technique on my wife all the time, and it always calmed her down. In and out. In and out. Slowly, steadily, I brought myself back from the precipice.
I stared out at the landscape once again. It was a warm, quiet afternoon. A light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and far-off pine trees. It was a nice place here, quiet and tranquil. And yet, somewhere out there lurked a malevolent entity, an entity that had brought me to this place for some foul purpose, and deprived me of my smokes...
"Show yourself, you coward!!" I shouted, shaking my fist at the air.
"Uh...are you talking to me?"
I wheeled around at the sound of a young, feminine voice. I must still have been woozy from the poison, otherwise nobody could have gotten the drop on Dale Alvin Gribble. I looked around in confusion for the source of the voice, but could find no one. Was this some kind of telepathy? Were the government agents speaking directly into my mind?
"Uhhhh...hello?"
The voice came again. This time I looked down. I noticed a tiny white horse standing in the grass, looking up at me with a confused expression.
She was the strangest-looking horse I'd ever seen. On all four legs she barely stood as high as my knee. Her coat was white, but her mane and tail were pink and purple, done up in flowing curls. For some reason, looking at her made me think of a marshmallow. A small white horn protruded from the center of her forehead, possibly of alien origin.
She stared up at me, her enormous green eyes curious but unafraid. I stared back. Several uncomfortable seconds passed.
"Uh, my name's Sweetie Belle," she said finally. "What's yours?"
So, the horse can speak English. Interesting...
The horse was an extraterrestrial; there was no doubt about that much. Could she have been involved in my abduction? Looking at her, it seemed unlikely. But if there's one thing I've learned from my years as a professional bounty hunter, it's that you should never turn your back on a talking horse. Suddenly, I realized that she'd just asked me a question.
1: The Grassy Knoll
My head was pounding. There was a smell of wild grass and flowers. Dew was soaking into my jumpsuit. I opened my eyes and squinted into bright sunlight.
Sunlight?
The last thing I could remember was the house I was fumigating. I had been tracking blatella germanica, the German cockroach, one of the most cunning creatures known to man. For hours our game of cat and roach had gone on, until finally I had the bastard cornered in the cellar. We faced off. I remember he'd waved his antennae in defiance, mocking me to the last. I admired his courage. I pulled the trigger of my spray wand and let him have it. Poison spewed forth, a thick miasma of toxic death, slowly filling up the basement. I could remember my head swimming, it had been getting harder to think straight. I'd turned to the side...I remembered seeing my reflection in a mirror...
My head throbbed again. The poison. That had to be it. I must have passed out from the fumes. It's happened before. Damn crafty roaches, always hiding in unventilated basements.
How did I get outside, though?
I sat up groggily. I was alone on a grassy knoll. Gentle hills rolling off in all directions, covered in wild grasses and flowers. There was no sign of the house, or of civilization of any kind. The sky was a deep blue, without the usual haze of pollution. This didn't look like any part of Arlen I'd ever seen.
I must be miles out in the country. Where am I? How did I get here?
I felt a chill run down my spine. What if it hadn't been an accident? What if that basement had been left unventilated on purpose? Whoever did this must have waited until I'd passed out, and then dragged me out to this meadow and left me for dead.
"The question is who," I said aloud. "And why?"
Was the roach behind it? No, that couldn't be. Blatella germanica was crafty to be sure, but not crafty enough to pull off something like this. Plus, there was the size difference. No, whoever did this had to be large enough and strong enough to carry a full-grown man. But what if the cockroach had an accomplice?
"Yes, it all makes sense..." I mused.
The roach's job had been to create a diversion. He would lure me down to the basement, where I would have no choice but to use poison. His partner would have sealed up the windows in advance. Then, when I'd passed out from the fumes--
I rose slowly to my feet, and took a closer look at my surroundings. The terrain was completely unfamiliar; as far as I could tell, I was in the middle of nowhere. I might have left Texas entirely. Somebody had wanted to get me out of the way, that much was certain, and they had gone to a lot of trouble to do it.
"So the real question is: who stands to gain from my disappearance?"
The Federal government was the obvious answer. Maybe a little too obvious. They had to know that I was getting close, but this was a bold move even for them. There had to be other parties involved.
I reached into the pocket of my jumpsuit, and frowned.
That's odd. Where are my smokes?
I felt in the other pockets. Nothing. I'd bought a whole carton the other day, and I knew for certain I'd had at least half a pack on me when I entered the house.
I felt my stomach tighten. The situation was even more dire than I'd thought. The Federal government, in collaboration with a roach and possibly other unknown parties, had conspired to maroon me in an unknown location without smokes. I could feel the early onset of panic: sweat breaking out on my forehead... heart palpitations... tunnel vision...
Calm down Gribble, you're trained for this...
I began to perform an ancient Indian breathing technique I'd learned from my friend John Redcorn. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out. In and out. Over and over again. John Redcorn said he used that technique on my wife all the time, and it always calmed her down. In and out. In and out. Slowly, steadily, I brought myself back from the precipice.
I stared out at the landscape once again. It was a warm, quiet afternoon. A light breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and far-off pine trees. It was a nice place here, quiet and tranquil. And yet, somewhere out there lurked a malevolent entity, an entity that had brought me to this place for some foul purpose, and deprived me of my smokes...
"Show yourself, you coward!!" I shouted, shaking my fist at the air.
"Uh...are you talking to me?"
I wheeled around at the sound of a young, feminine voice. I must still have been woozy from the poison, otherwise nobody could have gotten the drop on Dale Alvin Gribble. I looked around in confusion for the source of the voice, but could find no one. Was this some kind of telepathy? Were the government agents speaking directly into my mind?
"Uhhhh...hello?"
The voice came again. This time I looked down. I noticed a tiny white horse standing in the grass, looking up at me with a confused expression.
She was the strangest-looking horse I'd ever seen. On all four legs she barely stood as high as my knee. Her coat was white, but her mane and tail were pink and purple, done up in flowing curls. For some reason, looking at her made me think of a marshmallow. A small white horn protruded from the center of her forehead, possibly of alien origin.
She stared up at me, her enormous green eyes curious but unafraid. I stared back. Several uncomfortable seconds passed.
"Uh, my name's Sweetie Belle," she said finally. "What's yours?"
So, the horse can speak English. Interesting...
The horse was an extraterrestrial; there was no doubt about that much. Could she have been involved in my abduction? Looking at her, it seemed unlikely. But if there's one thing I've learned from my years as a professional bounty hunter, it's that you should never turn your back on a talking horse. Suddenly, I realized that she'd just asked me a question.
>>374308
"My name is--"
I cut myself off. Until I knew more about what was happening, I needed to keep my true identity a secret.
"Shackleford. Rusty."
The little horse raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Shackleford? That's kind of a weird name."
She trotted a small circle around me, looking me up and down. Either she'd never seen an Earth man before, or she was looking for a place to implant a microchip. Or possibly a probe. Until I knew which it was, it was best to be on my guard.
"You don't look like a pony," she continued. "What are you exactly?"
So, she's a pony eh? Interesting...
"The pony is a subspecies of the equine," I mused out loud, stroking my chin. "Known for its diminuitve stature."
"Uh... yeah."
This exchange was followed by a long bit of awkward silence. I continued to stroke my chin and muse. A pony. I was pretty certain that ponies couldn't talk. At least... not on Earth. Could the same type of creature have evolved simultaneously on an alien world, and learned to speak English somehow?
The rabbit hole just keeps getting deeper and deeper...
Instinctively, I reached into my jumpsuit pocket, then remembered that my smokes were gone. I felt that twinge of anxiety creeping up on me again. If I didn't get some nicotine soon, this could go south fast...
I realized the pony was still watching me.
"Say, uh... Sweetie Belle, was it?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you know where I could buy some smokes around here?"
She wrinkled her nose in confusion.
"Smokes?"
"Yeah, you know, puff puff?" I held two fingers to my lips and pantomimed smoking a cigarette.
The horse stared blankly back at me.
"Cigarettes? Manitoba?"
I made the pantomime smoking gesture again. Sweetie Belle cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
"You're really weird," she said.
She glanced over her shoulder. For the first time, I noticed the outline of a few buildings in the distance. There must be some kind of civilization nearby.
"Somepony in town might know what you're talking about," Sweetie Belle continued. "Do you live near Ponyville?"
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Ponyville?"
I couldn't say I'd ever heard of the place. I knew there was a petting zoo in McMaynerbury called Ponyland, but somehow I didn't think that's what she was talking about.
"Is that anywhere near Arlen?" I asked carefully.
"Arlen? Um, I'm not sure. I don't think I know where that is."
"Arlen, Texas?"
"Texas? Is that in Equestria?"
"Equestria?"
Slowly, it began to dawn on me that I might be even further from home than I'd first thought. Maybe even as far as Oklahoma.
"I think... I may be lost," I said, slowly and carefully.
Sweetie Belle's face brightened.
"Oh, well, that's okay! I didn't think you looked like you were from around here. I can show you the way to Ponyville, if you want."
I gave the little pony one last suspicious appraisal, and decided to trust her for the time being.
"Alright," I said.
"Come on," she continued. "We'll go back to my clubhouse first. My friends might know about... what was that thing you wanted again?"
"Smokes?" I asked hopefully.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, my friends might know where you could find some."
"Okey dokey."
The little pony turned and trotted off through the grass, and I fell into step behind her.
"My name is--"
I cut myself off. Until I knew more about what was happening, I needed to keep my true identity a secret.
"Shackleford. Rusty."
The little horse raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Shackleford? That's kind of a weird name."
She trotted a small circle around me, looking me up and down. Either she'd never seen an Earth man before, or she was looking for a place to implant a microchip. Or possibly a probe. Until I knew which it was, it was best to be on my guard.
"You don't look like a pony," she continued. "What are you exactly?"
So, she's a pony eh? Interesting...
"The pony is a subspecies of the equine," I mused out loud, stroking my chin. "Known for its diminuitve stature."
"Uh... yeah."
This exchange was followed by a long bit of awkward silence. I continued to stroke my chin and muse. A pony. I was pretty certain that ponies couldn't talk. At least... not on Earth. Could the same type of creature have evolved simultaneously on an alien world, and learned to speak English somehow?
The rabbit hole just keeps getting deeper and deeper...
Instinctively, I reached into my jumpsuit pocket, then remembered that my smokes were gone. I felt that twinge of anxiety creeping up on me again. If I didn't get some nicotine soon, this could go south fast...
I realized the pony was still watching me.
"Say, uh... Sweetie Belle, was it?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you know where I could buy some smokes around here?"
She wrinkled her nose in confusion.
"Smokes?"
"Yeah, you know, puff puff?" I held two fingers to my lips and pantomimed smoking a cigarette.
The horse stared blankly back at me.
"Cigarettes? Manitoba?"
I made the pantomime smoking gesture again. Sweetie Belle cocked her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
"You're really weird," she said.
She glanced over her shoulder. For the first time, I noticed the outline of a few buildings in the distance. There must be some kind of civilization nearby.
"Somepony in town might know what you're talking about," Sweetie Belle continued. "Do you live near Ponyville?"
Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
"Ponyville?"
I couldn't say I'd ever heard of the place. I knew there was a petting zoo in McMaynerbury called Ponyland, but somehow I didn't think that's what she was talking about.
"Is that anywhere near Arlen?" I asked carefully.
"Arlen? Um, I'm not sure. I don't think I know where that is."
"Arlen, Texas?"
"Texas? Is that in Equestria?"
"Equestria?"
Slowly, it began to dawn on me that I might be even further from home than I'd first thought. Maybe even as far as Oklahoma.
"I think... I may be lost," I said, slowly and carefully.
Sweetie Belle's face brightened.
"Oh, well, that's okay! I didn't think you looked like you were from around here. I can show you the way to Ponyville, if you want."
I gave the little pony one last suspicious appraisal, and decided to trust her for the time being.
"Alright," I said.
"Come on," she continued. "We'll go back to my clubhouse first. My friends might know about... what was that thing you wanted again?"
"Smokes?" I asked hopefully.
"Yeah, that. Anyway, my friends might know where you could find some."
"Okey dokey."
The little pony turned and trotted off through the grass, and I fell into step behind her.
/ 10