A Number of Challenges Pt.4

Chapter Four: A Series of Disappointments

As the three presenters and their tame racing driver approached the brightly colored town, worries were beginning to manifest. How did they get here? Where was here? Could they get back? What about their friends and families? Was it even known that they were missing? As usual, Clarkson was the first to speak up.

"Mates," he said in a serious tone. The others, even the Stig, knew that this tone was a tone Clarkson scarcely used, and that it meant he wanted their input. This tone had only been used a few times in the past. One such time was when Clarkson risked falling to his death on a shoddily-engineered mountain highway, and the others knew that, as well. They all stopped to listen to their friend.

"Yes, Jeremy?" Hammond answered.

"If I'm honest...I'm scared."

"I don't understand," said May, genuinely confused. "Of what?" He resisted the urge to shoot an incredulous look at Clarkson—what exactly was scary about this pastel catastrophy?

Clarkson hesitated, looking from side to side before answering. "I'm scared that we won't be able to get back...or that we're dead. Do our families know...?"

Clarkson had merely said what everypony else was thinking. They all stood silently, the gravity of the situation hindering their usual banter. Perhaps, Clarkson thought, the Stig had lost control of the car—and this was some sort of afterlife.

"I mean, is this even real?" Clarkson asked. May laughed bitterly at that and looked towards the ground, kicking up bits of dirt with a hood. How could you answer such a question? "Did Stig lose control of the car? Was there a problem with it that we didn't know about?"

"We can't be dead, can we?" Hammond asked. "We..we've got families to worry about...more than that, even."

Help often comes from the place you least expect it. The three presenters were so silent and contemplative that Clarkson didn't notice the hoof on his shoulder. The Stig shook Clarkson from his dark thoughts wordlessly. He stood there, his alien nature compromising the comforting gesture he had tried to make. But the others understood. May joined him, and so did Hammond.

"We've been through worse things than this," said Hammond. "We always pull through. We can't do any different this time. Jeremy...I'm scared too. But we aren't doing our loved ones any favors by sitting around worrying. We got into this place together, and we'll get out, or try as hard as we can, otherwise."

Clarkson seemed as if a great burden had been removed from his shoulders. When it came to boasting and bragging, he could talk all day—often times at great volume. When it came to grave matters such as this, he was a lot less glib, but he could always be trusted to speak the truth. "Thanks, mates...I feel a lot better now. I..." He tried to think of something else, but simply said, "Uh...do we have to hug now?"

May looked to Hammond, who nodded in disappointment. May simply sighed. The three of them—The Stig simply stood motionless in the middle, argued about the best way for horses to hug. They finally agreed on all standing up on their rear hooves. This had the result of sending them to the ground in a tangle of hooves, and in Hammond's case, wings.
"Oh, cock." said Clarkson. The other two grunted similar sounds of disappointment.

May got back on his hooves first and helped the other two up. "Listen," he said. "We need to get into town and quit fooling around. There's got to be someone--"

"Some pony," said Hammond, cracking a smile.

"Somepony in town can help us," said May, who took on an irritated tone but couldn't help smiling himself.

With that, they headed into town and started making fools of themselves, as they always did in new places. Though they were apprehensive at first, they eventually settled into their old routines. Old habits were hard to break, even across dimensions.

They decided to split up, each taking different responsibilities. Hammond would watch the Stig and make sure he didn't suck the moisture out of a duck, or do any of the other horrible things he was rumored to do. May would inquire about transportation, and Clarkson would see about lodging and food. They all agreed to meet back at a fountain near the center of town in an hour.

Clarkson was the first to set off, as he saw nearly everything as a competition. So it was that he was the first to be disappointed. He trotted over to the nearest restaraunt, muttering to himself. "I'll be the first to do it, I'll charm the owner with the touching story of how I lost my money saving a bus--no a boat, full of burning lepers...burning leper schoolchildren. Who were orphans. And then the others will see how stupid they are and how great I am," he said. He stopped as he approached an outdoor dining area. At this hour, there weren't many ponies patronizing the restaurant. A few sat at tables, the nearest being a purple...girl pony? She was a unicorn, too, with dark purple hair and little pink stripes in it. Her arse-tattoo was a bunch of stars.

"Greetings, fellow unicorn!" He nearly shouted at her, and with a level of flair and drama unneccesary for a simple greeting. He was already quite loud, and his shouts were so common to his co-presenters that they could almost understand even his unintelligible howls of fear. It was accepted that Jeremy believe shouting could solve anything. This mare, however, didn't have the privilege (or curse) of knowing Jeremy, and nearly choked on her sandwich, falling out of her chair.

Twilight thought about doing lots of things to that jerk. But all of them were unbecoming of Princess Celestia's own student, and she merely narrowed her eyes at him. "Uh, hi," she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Can I...help you?"

Clarkson laughed quietly to himself and got nearer so he wouldn't have to shout. Not that he didn't like shouting. He noted that her accent was distinctly American—he didn't have anything against the Americans, not more than he had against anyone else, anyway. He considered haranguing her about her accent, but instead took the high road...for once. "Me and my mates have just rolled into town. I was wondering what kinds of things there are to eat in...Ponyville," he said, recalling the sign and stifling a laugh.

Twilight raised her eyebrow. It was an odd question to ask when you were right near a restaurant, but aside from his boorish shouting, this unicorn had done nothing to earn scorn or snark from her. She couldn't place where his accent was from, which was odd. She prided herself on being cultured, even if others saw it as being overly bookish. "Well, I eat here all the time. It's a great restaurant. I normally order a daisy sandwich, but I hear the salads are really good, too. If you like sweets, there's always Sugarcube Corner—that's where my friend Pinkie Pie works. She can be a little...much, but she's a good pony at heart." She tapped her hoof thoughtfully to her chin, thinking some more on what other suggestions she could give this newcomer. "Oh, and how could I forget Applejack?"

"The drink?" Clarkson was working overtime to stifle his laughter. Imagining one of these cutesy little things getting piss-drunk wasn't helping.

Twilight didn't seem to realize she was being laughed at—or perhaps she didn't mind, or thought Clarkson was simply a happy pony like Pinkie. She answered his question with a chuckle. "No, I've never heard of a drink by that name. There's an earth pony named Applejack whose family, the Apple family, owns a farm. They're all really honest ponies, especially Applejack, and if you like apples or apple products...well, you know." She smiled at him, leaning back in her seat. Though she hadn't expected Clarkson to show up, it was nice chatting with somepony new for a change—even if he had poor volume control. He may have been worse than Pinkie—not that she wanted to find out.

Clarkson frowned slightly as his laughter finally decided to go away quietly. Something wasn't right here. "Uhm, miss..."

"Twilight Sparkle," she said.

"Right," said Clarkson. Could there be a girlier name? Though Pinkie Pie was pushing it, he thought. "Twilight, is there say...a place to get meat...related foods?"

"Meat? What's meat?"

"You're joking." She had to be joking. Please, let her be joking.

"I'm afraid not," she said, frowning.

"You know. Bacon?"

She shook her head.

"Salami? Pepperoni? Fish? Ham? Pork?....burgers?"

She shook her head to all of that, seeming to become more and more confused. "Is it a foreign delicacy or something?"

Clarkson snorted at that, which earned him a suspicious look. But despite the subdued laugh, he was feeling quite deflated. "...do you eat anything that doesn't come from a plant?"

Twilight smiled brightly. Finally, a question she could answer! "Of course! Milk and cheese. We always make sure to ask our friends the cows for permission, though," she said matter-of-factly.

Clarkson must have had the usual look on his face when these sorts of situations occur. A look of dulled but ever-present disbelief.

"Is something wrong?"
"No! ...No. Uh, I just need to go meet back up with my mates."

"Your...mates." It was more of a statement than a question, yet she adopted a quizzocal expression at that last word. Was he some sort of polygamist? Shaking off her curiosity once more, she noticed that he had turned around and was about to leave. "Wait! I didn't catch your name..." She wasn't sure why she asked for his name, given that he'd interrupted her lunch and secretly laughed at her mannerisms. But she definitely did find something interesting in him, perhaps something odd. His cutie mark, a burning husk with some sort of contraption near it, certainly raised some questions.

Jeremy stopped in his tracks. Just when he thought he'd be able to slip away! He'd need to give her a name...it was obvious human names didn't work, but he was no good at coming up with some kind of girly name. He swore to himself, cursing his luck.

"Did you just say your name was...?" Twilight turned her head, not comprehending. Hadn't she read that word somewhere before? Maybe, she thought with a blush, in something from the library's restricted reading section?

"No!" Jeremy almost shouted, somewhere inbetween a laugh and a confused noise. He definitely didn't want all the ponies here thinking his name was, well, that—but then again, what was he supposed to say? An idea sparked in his brain, which was almost always a bad thing. He grinned mischievously, but that grin was gone when he turned around to face Twilight. "My name is Jezza. Me mates—friends," he added, to clarify for her, "are Stig, Hamster, and Captain Slow." Inside his mind, laughter burned, threatening to explode forth. But he had to keep a straight face. He did.

"Oh," she said, smiling. "Alright then, Jezza. Have a nice stay in Ponyville! And if you need any books, I'm the town librarian."

"Thanks, Twilight," he said as he turned around and headed for the fountain. He knew the others wouldn't be pleased—especially Hammond. Clarkson often wondered how a man lived to be that age and could still be such a picky eater. Every place they went, it was, "I don't like this," and "I don't like that." Clarkson figured he knew children with more open minds when it came to food. He sighed and headed towards the fountain they'd agreed to meet at. Curiously, Hammond and the Stig were gone. Clarkson hoped the rumors about Stig punching a horse to the ground weren't true—there would be a lot of that going on if it was, and it would explain why they weren't there. After visualizing several other reasons why the Stig and Hammond might not be there, he simply sat down on a bench....how the bloody hell did those ponies sit on these benches?

Once more, he sighed, sitting weirdly in the bench. He figured the vegetarianism was just the beginning of a series of disappointments.