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Things were not going well for Meathook.
A pony with a little more self-awareness might have realized that was entirely their own fault, but Meathook was never one for pinning blame, at least on himself. He was more than happy to do so on his lackeys, Shred and Boomer. It was their fault, all of it! They were why he kept getting calls from “Mister Green” about his mounting debt. That last laundromat scheme should have done it. If it wasn’t for that damn cop…
After getting chased out of Sugar Cube Corner for trying to knick a few cupcakes, Meathook sulked down the sidewalk, the two idiots trailing behind him. He was just considering how many bones Mister Green would let him keep unbroken if he didn’t pay up in time, when he spotted two unicorns walking hand in hand, a filly and a young mare. They were dressed all fancy, he thought. They looked good, and upper class, and proper, and hygienic, and stuff. Words like that.
Basically, they looked rich.
He got an idea at that…
A pony with a little more self-awareness might have realized that was entirely their own fault, but Meathook was never one for pinning blame, at least on himself. He was more than happy to do so on his lackeys, Shred and Boomer. It was their fault, all of it! They were why he kept getting calls from “Mister Green” about his mounting debt. That last laundromat scheme should have done it. If it wasn’t for that damn cop…
After getting chased out of Sugar Cube Corner for trying to knick a few cupcakes, Meathook sulked down the sidewalk, the two idiots trailing behind him. He was just considering how many bones Mister Green would let him keep unbroken if he didn’t pay up in time, when he spotted two unicorns walking hand in hand, a filly and a young mare. They were dressed all fancy, he thought. They looked good, and upper class, and proper, and hygienic, and stuff. Words like that.
Basically, they looked rich.
He got an idea at that…
Luring the little twerp in hadn’t been hard. He had been watching her for a few days and learned she was obsessed with her cutie mark, or lack thereof. All it took was to catch her heading into town on some errand and striking up a conversation. He couldn’t believe his luck that this kid was stupid enough to listen to him. In truth, Sweetie had been drilled to never ignore an adult talking to her, as it was terribly rude. Not that Meathook had any appreciation for her sensibilities, mind you.
As she was just about to make an excuse to continue on her errand, Meathook let slip in the most offhand manner he could must that he knew a thing or two about cutie marks. At that, Sweetie’s ears perked up, and she gladly followed him down the alleyway. She barely even struggled as he threw her in the sack he had back there.
As he soon found out, getting the brat was the easy part. Keeping her, however…
”…So then Scootaloo said ‘Hey, why don’t we make our own hanglider! Give me your bedsheets and some duct tape.’ But then Applejack came upstairs and said it was time to go home, so-”
It had been like this for hours. She did not shut up. Ever. The fact that Shred and Boomer had been hanging on to her every word as her captive audience wasn’t helping his headache. That might have had something do to with the beer too, but again, pinning blame.
After he had unceremoniously dumped her out of the sack and onto the floor of the old warehouse they had been squatting in, they had grabbed her and thrown as much rope around her as they could. None of them knew any proper knots, but the bindings seemed to be holding, and she didn’t seem too eager to escape. Shred propped her up on an old stool, and she began blabbering within seconds of being placed on her perch. After the first eight stories about her friends, her school, her sister’s hair, the giant spaceman living in her house, and her last sleepover, Meathook had decided enough was enough and tried to gag the brat. Her audience would have none of it however, and the storyteller continued.
”…But there was this really weird thin guy watching through the window with this creepy clown mask or something. He had glowing eyes and stripes on his arms and-”
She was Hell on his concentration (as was the beer, probably). He was trying to make this ransom note as professional as possible - it was his key to a whole ton of Bits if this worked out. He had almost spelled ‘kidnapped’ with a ‘K’. Everyone knew it was really with a ‘C’. If he had to hear one more word about her friends and their stupid ideas to get themselves killed…
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