MachoPoni: A Prance With Death

by Lotus Rose

  Macho stopped the trampoline in front of the wall. He stood up on the trampoline and called out, “Hello! Are you the Chill-Aid Man?”

  The pitcher waved and then, in a creepy, raspy deep voice, replied, “Oh yeahhhhhh!”

  Macho was taken aback but tried to hide it. He hopped onto the ground. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Macho, short for Machoponi.”

  “Nice to meet you too, oh yeahhhh!”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Probably. It’s what I’ve done with all the other ponies who came through here, well at least ever since after the DarkKingdom became dark. But first, I’d like to have a conversation. We can each tell our story! Shall I go first, or shall you? That’s always the hardest part—deciding who goes first and who goes second in things.”

  Macho thought that maybe if he went first, the Chill-Aid Man might simply kill him right afterward, so he said, “Why don’t you go first? So, wow. You’ve been around since the time of the Great Dividing?”

  The Chill-Aid Man frantically shook his arms around. “Oh yeahhhhhh! And I used to be so much happier when things were pastel.”

  “How come?”

  “Well, in the days of yore, I used to be filled with punch and there were human children who, when they became thirsty, I would punch through a wall and pour them punch from my very own head. And I would shout out, ‘oh yeahhhh.’ It was like my catchphrase. But there are no more humans, except for the Princess, and when the DarkKingdom became dark, the punch inside me transformed into blood. And one day, the Princess put a spell on me, so that I can no longer punch through walls! I’ve tried. And besides, there are no more thirsty children around anymore. I think I was happier when I was filled with punch.”

  Then he began sadly singing this song:

  I Used to Have Punch

  “Oh, I used to have punch!

  And I used to get drunk

  By little kids.

  And nothing is better than kids giggling with glee,

  While drinking the red punch right out of me!

  Oh, I used to have punch!

  And I burst through a bunch

  Of flimsy walls.

  And nothing is better than giving kids punch,

  And getting so drunk by the whole happy bunch!”

  Macho nodded and said, “That sucks.”

  “What does?”

  “That there are no more children to serve.”

  “It kinda does. But I do enjoy killing, too,” he said with a smile.

  “It has its appeal.” And Macho meant it. He’d never killed anyone before coming to the DarkKingdom. But he’d kinda killed the cuddlebears—or he’d at least badly maimed them—and being murderous was growing on him. Maybe it had something to do with his coat turning gray. He asked the Chill-Aid Man, “But why not serve the undead ponies with your blood? They’d enjoy drinking blood.”

  “Well, I dunno. I became used to children. Ponies are strange to me. Besides, ever since the DarkKingdom became dark, I’ve been filled with consuming murderous hate.”

  “Ah, I see. Are you still gonna kill me?”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna churn up your bones and add your blood to the other ponies’ blood inside of me.” The smile never left his face.

  Macho nodded forlornly, then thought for a moment. “So what ever happened to the humans?”

  The limbed pitcher shrugged. “I really don’t know. One day, they just disappeared. The Princess is the only one I know of that’s left. If I could only get past this wall, I could go talk to her and maybe convince her to remove her curse—maybe serve her a drink of poni blood. Maybe she’s thirsty. Oh yeahhhh.” His voice sounded sad, but the smile never left his face.

  Macho realized that he hadn’t known the Princess was human until just a few minutes ago. There was so much he was learning about the DarkKingdom. He wanted to ask many more questions, but he was in a hurry, so instead he asked, “Why can’t you get past the wall? Aren’t there tunnels to the west and east?”

  “I’m too big,” the Chill-Aid man said sadly while smiling.

  “Hmmm. Could you maybe go around the wall? My map shows that you can go around it if you go far enough.”

  “I’m scared. There are creatures even more dangerous than me to the east and west—chocolate bunnies and jumbo shrimps!”

  “Oh my!” Macho exclaimed, then he thought some more, swishing his mouth from side to side. “Tell me more about this curse the Princess put on you.”

  “Well, one day she came to see me. She drank some blood and seemed real sweet until I showed her how I could punch through walls, so she got furious and put a curse on me. I think she was jealous. Then she left. I think she left to visit the flying ponies.”

  “Hmmmm. A curse? She put a curse on the flutter-fly ponies too.”

  “Yes, I tried and tried to punch through the wall, but I couldn’t.”

  “Oh, that sucks.”

  “It most certainly does suck a lot! Oh, but that’s enough about me. I’d like to hear your story now.”

  “Well, um, you mean what’s happened to me recently?”

  “Yeah, recent is better. What have you been up to lately?”

  So Macho quickly told the Chill-Aid Man about his adventures with the cuddlebears and the flutter-fly ponies.

  “Ooh, what a great story!” exclaimed the Chill-Aid Man. “Do you have a song about your recent adventures?”

  “Um, well, I can make one up.”

  The Chill-Aid Man almost squealed in delight! “Oooh yeahhh, I love songs! If a person sings a good enough song, I spare their life!”

  So with a quivery voice, Macho began to sing this song (his voice grew steadier as he went on):

  Now listen up!

  Because cuddles are pain!

  They wanna play with your ball,

  And it’ll drive you insane!

  You want someone to hold,

  Because you feel so cold.

  But their touch grows sharp!

  It keeps you far apart!

  Ohhhhh.…

  They’ve got the cuds that kill!

  They’ve got the cuds that kill!

  Now here come more pricks,

  Because there’re ponies that fly,

  And they will put you down,

  And their opinion is high!

  And they’re real real cruel!

  Give you a trampolee-een.

  Treat you like a fool,

  Cuz they’re so so mean!

  Ohhhhh.…

  They’ve got the wings that thrill!

  They’ve got the wings that thrill!

  Chill-Aid Man tried to clap but his arms were too far apart and too short. “Best song ever!” he exclaimed. “You just have to make a third verse about me! Sing it to me when you’re done!”

  “Thank you,” Macho said, then bowed. “So you aren’t gonna kill me?”

  “Oh, I’m still gonna kill you.”

  “But you said if you liked my song you would spare my life.”

  “No I didn’t.”

  “Did too.”

  “No, I said, if a person sings a good enough song, I spare their life! And you aren’t a person!” Then the Chill-Aid Man started chuckling. “I can’t believe you fell for that! You think you’re people!”

  Macho pouted and thought desperately.

  The Chill-Aid Man stared at him for a while before muttering, “Guess I’ll kill you now.”

  “Wait! How can I come up with a third verse if you kill me?”

  “Oh yeah. Well, nevermind that then. I’m gonna pulverize your body and let your red juice fill me!”

  Finally Macho came up with an idea! “Wait! What if I figured out a way that you could punch through the wall?”

  “Oh yeahhhh! I would be so grateful! Then I could go visit the Princess!”

  “Cool! I’m headed in the same direction! We could help each other and travel
together as companions in a great adventure!”

  “Well I don’t see how we can do that after I kill you.”

  “So don’t kill me! It would be my reward for helping you.”

  “Oh nahhhh, I’m still gonna kill you, then I’ll break through the wall. So what’s this idea you’ve come up with for me to do it?”

  Macho blinked twice. “Nevermind. I was thinking about a way to punch through whales.”

  “Oh,” said the Chill-Aid Man in a disappointed voice. “Guess I’ll tear you limb from limb and drain the glorious red gore out of your flaccid body now.”

  “Wait!” Macho shouted. “I have another idea!”

  “Yes?” said the Chill-Aid Man hopefully.

  “You can use the trampoline to go over the wall! That’s why I brought it here, because I was gonna bounce on it to go over the wall myself.”

  “Hey, that’s a great idea! Thank you. Should I kill you now?”

  In a scolding tone, Macho said, “No no no. First we have to decide who goes first and who goes second.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s always the hardest thing to decide isn’t it?”

  Macho didn’t say a word and pretended to think hard. “Oh, I know! I’ll go first!”

  The Chill-Aid Man just looked at him with that creepy grin on his face. Then he shook his head and the blood inside him sloshed. “Ohhh, nahhhhh! I’m not gonna fall for that. Because if you go first, you will just run away before I get the chance to hop over the wall. There is only one alternative, and that is that I go first. See, that way, when you go over the wall, I’ll be waiting for you and I can kill you.”

  Macho nodded solemnly. “It’s all very logical. I guess you’ve figured it out.”

  “Yes, well, I do have some common sense. I’m not an air head, if you know what I mean.” It seems like he would have winked, but his expression remained frozen in a smile.

  “Do you need some encouragement with your trampolining?” Macho asked as the Chill-Aid Man crawled up the trampoline.

  “Why would you want to help me when you’re about to be killed by me?” the Chill-Aid Man asked, sounding genuinely confused.

  “Well, I don’t hold grudges. I know you’re just doing what a formerly-punch-filled-plastic-head-who’s-now-filled-with-blood does.”

  The Chill-Aid Man nodded on top of the trampoline and the blood inside him sloshed. He kicked the blue ball off the trampoline onto the ground, then said, “So encourage, then.” He took a timid hop that was slightly amplified by the elastic material of the trampoline. The blood inside his head slightly-sloshed.

  Macho threw all his effort into encouragement, shouting, “Bouncy bouncy! You can bounce if you want to! You can leave the ground behind!”

  The Chill-Aid Man began bouncing a little more boldly, the elasticizing quality of the trampoline doing its amplifying.

  Macho yelled out, “Are you with me?!?!? Bouncy bouncy!!!!!”

  And the Chill-Aid Man started to take to it, yelling back, “Bouncy bouncy!” as his round, plastic body-head began to rise more and more and more sloshing took place.

  “Higher higher!” Macho yelled. “More bouncy bouncy!”

  And the Chill-Aid Man complied, and the liquid inside him was sloshing up and down the inside edges of his container-body, but he was so excited, because he was almost high enough for his feet to reach the top of the wall.

  “Bounce to this!” shouted Macho. “Bounce like you’ve never bounced before! Superbounce! Do it!”

  And as the Chill-Aid Man descended to contact feet with trampoline, he deep-knee-bended and superbounced, while shouting, “Oh yeahhhhh!!!!”

  And a gush of red flung out the top of his head, which was not only his head, but his whole body. It went beyond its container and spilled and splattered all around as the Chill-Aid Man grinned and screamed in terror.

  He was only half full as he landed. He no longer seemed enthusiastic about bouncing and seemed to be trying to stop it.

  He was wobbly, but somehow, barely, managed to keep his balance as he bounced a few more times. He was no doubt thinking that he might survive if he could just decelerate and get off the trampoline.

  But, “BOUNCY BOUNCY!!” shouted Macho as he initiated a super-move, as he flipped his ball into the air with his hind legs. As the ball descended, he kicked it hard with his hind legs. And the ball flew right into the Chill-Aid Man’s unending grin—and the Chill-Aid Man toppled over, his balance completely gone now as he tipped off the edge of the trampoline with much spillage.

  Macho’s ball came to rest about forty feet away, and it was drenched in red. It was the third time he’d gotten blood on his ball.

  The Chill-Aid Man was lying on his side on the red-drenched grass, unmoving and mostly empty.

  Macho nudged him with his hoof and the Chill-Aid Man tottered a little and continued smiling. His arms and legs were limp. He seemed quite broken.

  Macho stared at him for a little bit, then he began to sing:

  “Oh, he bounced right up!

  Went way too high!

  Oversized plastic head.

  What a goofy guy!

  He’s got a perma-grin,

  And a lust for red.

  Gonna drain the gore in,

  And then you’ll be real dead!

  But he’s got the blood that spills!

  That spillllls!

  He’s got the blood that spills!”

  CHAPTER 9

  Bouncing for Love

  Macho knelt and slipped his head inside the pitcher that lay on its side on the grass. He lapped at the small amount of blood that was still inside. His legs trembled as he did so, because it was now painfully clear that he was one of the undead.

  But it lessened his hunger.

  With a sickly feeling, he kicked his blue ball up and watched it go over the wall. He heard it bounce on the other side. He was committed now. He didn’t know what was on the other side of the wall, but it sounded like it might only be grass.

  He hopped onto the trampoline. Then he took a deep breath and began to bounce.

  Bounce.

  He bounced because he wanted to look into her eyes again. There had always been a sadness to her, as if the world had always been too much for her. Her pendant of half a broken heart had always been a fitting piece of jewelry.

  Bounce!

  He bounced for her mischievous, beautiful eyes and her sweet voice. And also for her scar—she was a flawed beauty, with her scar as a symbol of the ugliness that hides beneath pastel exteriors.

  Bounce!!

  For her love of potpies and dancing. And all the parts of their lives they had shared together—having fun and growing up and dealing with peers and crappy parents—and the time she’d told him her father had bitten her one day in a drunken rage—she’d told Macho he could never reveal the secret—and the bite had become her scar.

  BOUNCE!!!

  For all her rebukes and cruelty, which only kept his yearning alive for all these years. He had been chasing her ever since they were little, and here he was chasing her again. And even though he didn’t know how he would ever be able to bring her back to the pastel side, he had to do this, because he loved her.

  For a moment, he feared he might not to be able to make it, but he gritted his teeth and strained, putting all he could into one final, massive superbounce and he just barely cleared the wall and went over.

  He landed on the grassy ground on the other side then dropped and rolled. He felt pain in his right front leg and the right side of his body, but he didn’t think he was injured. He stood up and looked around, and as he stared at the rope bridge about thirty feet away with the goat standing in front of it, he couldn’t stop thinking about Dust. He was remembering one night when he and Dust were twelve years old and they had stolen a potpie off of a windowsill. They’d shared it together and that night they’d kissed. It had been Macho’s first kiss. And they didn’t get caught.
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  CHAPTER 10

  Praise the Infurnal Goat

  Machoponi retrieved his ball then began walking toward the bridge. He could see a gray, horned, four-legged goat standing in front of it. The bridge was made up of wooden planks connected to ropes which held the bridge up. The ropes were tied to stakes driven into the ground on each side of the chasm. The yellow brick road went from the wall to the bridge, then continued on the other side of a chasm to a gray castle a short distance away.

  Macho walked closer. The goat was wearing a black sweater with a turtleneck. He had a scraggly dirty silver beard. And there was something strange on his forehead—some kind of symbol.

  As Macho walked up, the goat shouted, “Hail!”

  Macho looked up into the sky, but there was no rain or hail or anything.

  “No no,” said the goat. “I meant ‘hello.’”

  “Oh, um, hey, how’s it going? I’m Machoponi, Macho for short.”

  “Dark greetings! It’s nice to infurnally meet you, fellow undead abomination! I am known as…Billphomet!”

  “Billphomet? Nice to meet you. What does ‘infurnally’ mean?”

  The goat rolled his eyes, then answered, “It means I’m in fur. I’m wearing a cashmere sweater!”

  “Ohhhh,” Macho said while nodding. “And what does ‘abomination’ mean?”

  “Ummmmm…I’m not quite sure. I think it means ‘undead.’”

  “Ohhhh, well why not just say ‘undead’?”

  The goat rolled his eyes. “Well it just doesn’t sound as cool, does it?”

  Macho thought about it for a moment, then agreed. He found himself staring at the black symbol on the goat’s forehead. It was a broken heart inside a circle with two horns on top.

  “So,” said the goat. “Do you want to cross the bridge?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, if you want to cross, you must answer my riddle.”

  “So if I get it wrong, you will kill me?”

  “Oh, nahhh, I wouldn’t do that. I just want you to answer, that’s all. It doesn’t even have to be the right answer. Come on, you’ll like my riddle. Wanna hear it?”

  “Well, I’m not sure if I want to cross the bridge yet.”