[REQUEST] Anonymous - Fear and Loathing in Appleoosa


                                            Originally uploaded to Pastebin: August 5th, 2013

                                            ---


                                            A request I got a while back!

                                            "Braeburn rape"

                                            That's pretty much it. The only problem was that rather than writing it the next day, I put it off for several weeks.


                                            I'm the worst.


                                            ---


                                            >"Ahnon, really. Ah think it would be great for ya! Just you an' me. On holiday!"

                                            >Pick up some apples and place them in the basket.

                                            "I dunno, AJ. I'm not a fan of the wild west."

                                            >She chuckles.

                                            >"Come on, you've never been there! An' Appleoosa is a great little place to visit! Why, my family founded it!"

                                            "Meh. I'd prefer to stay here and help out Big Mac."

                                            >Applejack trots into your view, her face a picture of concern.

                                            >"Look, sugarcube. Ah appreciate all that you're doin' for the farm. But ah'd really like to just repay you, and take you somewhere to relax, okay? I ain't askin' much. Just your company while I check up on things around Appleoosa."

                                            >You sigh and stop picking up apples to look at her.

                                            >She looks genuinely upset about you declining.

                                            >And you've been working non-stop for months now. Every day you wake up at 6:00 and come to the farm, then don't leave until nightfall.

                                            >You could probably do with a break.

                                            >Run your hand through your hair and puff up your cheeks before letting out a long breath.

                                            >Manage a tired smile and look Applejack in the eyes.

                                            "Alright, cowgirl. I'm in."

                                            >She smirks and jabs you in the leg.

                                            >"Who you callin' 'cow'girl?"


                                            >4 days later you're stood at the station next to your bags.

                                            >Not much has been packed. Just the necessities.

                                            >Applejack drags her bag next next to you and beams at you.

                                            >"Ah'm glad you decided to come, Ahnon. Ya needed to break."

                                            >She chuckles, and you can't help but smile as well.

                                            >It had been ages since you'd gone on holiday.

                                            >A few minutes later the train pulls into the station.

                                            >You and AJ leave your bags with the rest and board the carriage.

                                            >Shuffle your way over to some seats.

                                            >These trains are far too small for you.

                                            >Applejack notices your discomfort and pats you reassuringly.

                                            >"It's alright, partner. You'll be able to stretch your legs when we get to Appleoosa."

                                            "When will that be?"

                                            >"Tomorrow. It's a day's journey there."

                                            "Oh for the love of--"

                                            >Applejack guffaws, the joy on her face reflected in her laugh.

                                            >Try as you might, you can't stay annoyed.

                                            >You've sat in more cramped conditions before.

                                            >The train whistle sounds and it begins to pull away from the station.

                                            >You try your best to get comfortable, concentrating on the location awaiting you.

                                            >Applejack begins telling you tales of the place.

                                            >"Hey, Anon. Did ah ever tell you about the time mah friends and ah fought an army of Buffalo at Appleoosa?"


                                            >The beds weren't any better than the seats you were sat in, as when you wake up in the morning to the sound of a train whistle, your back is killing you.

                                            >Groan and get up out of the bed, straightening up and stretching as best you can.

                                            >Feeling a little bit better, you go to find Applejack.

                                            >Only to see that she was in the bunk above you.

                                            >Nudge her and watch as she stirs.

                                            "I think we're here."

                                            >She yawns and blinks, wiping some sleep out of her emerald eyes.

                                            >"Ah hope so. Last time ah was around these parts, we were woken up by train robbers..."

                                            >She looks out the window, a nervous look on her face.

                                            >Thankfully, the train doesn't seem to be under attack.

                                            >Another train whistle resounds, and you exit the bedroom.

                                            >Peering through the windows, you see the barrens of Appleoosa looking back at you.

                                            >Applejack joins you at your side.

                                            >"Eeyup. We're here alright."

                                            >The train pulls into the station and you jump off, stretching your legs and taking in a deep breath.

                                            >Walk over to collect your bags, AJ trotting alongside you.

                                            >"So, whaddya think? Nice little place, isn't it?"

                                            "Well I haven't seen much of it yet, cowgirl. So hold your horses."

                                            >She jabs your leg again and snorts, going on ahead to get the bags.

                                            >Once you leave the station, you look around at the town of--

                                            >"AAAAAAAAAAAPPLEOOSA!"

                                            >Scream in a voice you're not proud of and drop your bag, leaping to AJ's side.

                                            >Applejack laughs heartily, her voice cracking in places.

                                            >"Oooh... That was good. Anon? This is my cousin Braeburn. Braeburn, this is Anon."

                                            >You recover from your shock and extend your hand to the pony.

                                            >He has his own western-esque hat on and what seems to be a self-made jacket.

                                            >Braeburn hesitates before placing his hoof in your hand.

                                            >Close your fingers and shake it gently.

                                            >He seems entirely focused on your fingers.

                                            >"S-so cousin Applejack! It's great to see you again!"

                                            >He embraces his cousin in a big hug, and smiles at you over her shoulder.

                                            >Nod in response.

                                            >Applejack gets right down to business.

                                            >"So! Braeburn. How are things goin'? Is the orchard happy and healthy? How're the relations with those buffalo goin'?"

                                            >His eyes light up

                                            >"Things are goin' great! We're expandin' the town every week, an' the buffalo have taken up tradin' with us!"

                                            >While they talk, you survey the town.

                                            >Sure enough, several huge buffalo that make you look tiny are waddling around, some chatting with ponies, some carrying heavy objects, some running their own shops.

                                            >It's a busy little place, this Appleoosa.

                                            >Someone nudges your leg.

                                            >Turn to see Applejack looking up at you.

                                            >"Hey there, partner. Ah hear a friend o' mine is in town, so ah'm gonna go find her. You'll be alright, won't ya?"

                                            "Sure, sure. You have fun."

                                            >She doesn't move for a moment, she just smiles at you.

                                            >"Ah'm glad you came out, Ahnon."

                                            >Chuckle and scratch behind her ear, followed by readjusting her hat.

                                            "Go on, get out of here, cowgirl."

                                            >She punches your leg and runs off down a street, a huge grin plastered on her face.

                                            >Watch her go and shake your head, your own smile creeping up on you.

                                            >"Well now. Ain't you an odd critter."

                                            >Turning your head, you now see Braeburn.

                                            >"So where you gonna head to, partner?"

                                            "Oh, I don't know. I'll probably just walk around and check out the shops and sights."

                                            >Braeburn nudges his hat up then flashes you a brilliant smile.

                                            >"Come on then, I'll show you around!"

                                            >He nudges your forward and takes off towards the centre of the town.

                                            >Shrug and follow him.

                                            >What's the worst that could happen?


                                            >"So here's where we hold our wild west dances!"

                                            >Watch a group of ponies sperg out to the sound of frantic banjo music.

                                            >Braeburn hurries over to another group of ponies.

                                            >"And here's where we hold our mild west dances!"

                                            >Watch a group of ponies sperg out in a much more reserved fashion to slightly toned down banjo music.

                                            >Braeburn sighs.

                                            >"So, whaddya think? Isn't Appleoosa amazin'?"

                                            "I feel like this whole tour was rehearsed."

                                            >"It uhh... Was."

                                            >Well shit.

                                            >A colt walks past the pair of you.

                                            >He stops and blinks as he stares at you.

                                            >Offer a small wave.

                                            >He looks towards Braeburn and winks, then carries on walking, chuckling while he does so.

                                            "What was that about?"

                                            >"O-oh, uhh, nothn'. Saaay, have I showed you the bar?"

                                            "Yes?"

                                            >"Great! 'Cause that's where we're goin'."

                                            "At this time of the day?"

                                            >"Yep!"

                                            >Braeburn pushes you through the door to the bar.

                                            >A bit odd, but he's probably just enthusiastic to show you around.

                                            >"So uhh, Ahnon. What do ya want to drink?"

                                            >Glance at the clock.

                                            >High noon.

                                            "Isn't it a bit early to be drinking?"

                                            >"Pssh. Not around here! Why, old Free Reign over there is drunk around the clock! Hey there, mister Free Reign!"

                                            >Braeburn waves at a senile pony in the corner.

                                            >He glares at Braeburn and starts trying to speak.

                                            >"AHGUH GUHDURM KWUUH ROOHUUNIN Ahh... tuurnn..."

                                            >He faceplants the table and starts snoring amongst the many bottles that surround him.

                                            >Braeburn clears his throat.

                                            >"Uhh, yeah. Anyway! Let's get you filled up!"

                                            "I'm not sure I should. I don't have too much money on me--"

                                            >"Not to worry, not to worry! Any friend of Applejack's is a friend a' mine!"

                                            >You both take your seats at the bar and he pats you on the back.

                                            >"So what will ya take? I recommend a Rattler. They sure are good at burnin' ya throat!"

                                            >He laughs softly.

                                            >"Perfect for makin' sure you don't even feel any other liquids enterin' ya gullet fer the rest o' ya life!"

                                            "Why the hell would you want to drink something like that?"

                                            >"Ya like hot food, Anon?"

                                            "Sure, I guess."

                                            >"Ya ever get mad when ya swallow and feel like your throat's been set on fire?"

                                            "Sort of."

                                            >"Well a Rattler will sort that out. Damn near purges all sense of feelin' out ya throat. You ain't never gonna worry about anythin' hot giving ya poor old gullet trouble no more!"

                                            >You shrug and nod at the barkeeper.

                                            "One uhh... 'Rattler', please."

                                            >The bartender's eyes widen slightly.

                                            >He then smirks and pours you a glass of highly dangerous looking liquid, as well as one for Braeburn.

                                            >"Thanks a bunch, Bluey."

                                            >"No problem, Brae."

                                            >Braeburn turns to you.

                                            >"Ready Anon? On three! One, two, three!"

                                            >You both down your drinks.

                                            >Holy fucking shit why did you ever think this would be a good idea.

                                            >Your throat feels like every nerve ending in it is being ripped to shreds.

                                            >Try to cough but find you can't.

                                            >Tears stream down your face as the liquid charges through your system straight into your stomach, leaving a trail of what feels like acid in it's wake.

                                            >A taste of bitter so strong your tastebuds all but shut down permeates your mouth, and your entire body feels as though it's on fire.

                                            >You're suddenly aware of laughter.

                                            >Braeburn is laughing harder than he has all day, the bartender joining him.

                                            >"Oooh, Ahnon! That sure was funny to watch! Ah never get bored a' watchin' it!"

                                            "F-fuck you, man... That wasn't... Funny..."

                                            >Braeburn's eyes grow.

                                            >"What was that, partner? Ya wanna do what?"

                                            "I'm not doing anything. Barkeep, can I have some water?"

                                            >The barkeeper shakes his head.

                                            >"No can do, partner. Water won't do ya no good. Ya need yoghurt to soothe that."

                                            >He reaches under the bar and pulls out a pot of thick creamy yoghurt.

                                            >"Eat up, sonny. You'll feel right as rain in no time."

                                            >A spoon lands next to your pot.

                                            >The barkeeper goes off to serve other patrons.

                                            >Dig into your yoghurt, the cool substance massaging your throat all the way down.

                                            "Oooh... That's better..."

                                            >Braeburn's being oddly quiet.

                                            >Look at him out the corner of your eye.

                                            >He's transfixed by you.

                                            >"G-go on, partner. Have some more."

                                            >Shrug and put another spoon full of yoghurt in your mouth.

                                            >Lick some off the corners of your mouth.

                                            >Braeburn's legs are crossed unusually tight.

                                            "You okay? Need the toilet?"

                                            >"Uh. Yeah, s-sure."

                                            >He makes a mad dash to the room next to the bar with a stallion imprinted on the front.

                                            >Huh.

                                            >Odd pony.

                                            >You finish eating your yoghurt and push the pot away from you.

                                            >The bartender comes back and smiles.

                                            >"All done?"

                                            "Yeah. Thanks, by the way."

                                            >"Ain't no problem. Ah'm just glad that Brae has found somep0ny else."

                                            >He moves away again, taking the pot with him.

                                            >Nod thoughtfully.

                                            >Wait.

                                            "What?!"

                                            >"Somethin' wrong, Anon?"

                                            >Braeburn hops back up on his seat, smiling at you.

                                            "Uhh, I don't think so."

                                            >He giggles.

                                            >"Well now, d'ya wanna get outta here? I've got so many other places to show ya!"

                                            >You could do with some fresh air, actually.

                                            "Alright then. Maybe we could find Applejack as well."

                                            >"Heh, I'm sure she'll pop up sometime."

                                            >You both leave, Braeburn covering the costs of the drinks and yoghurt.

                                            >The bartender winks at you as you leave.

                                            >You're starting to get pretty rustled from all these odd looks.

                                            >Stepping out in the midday sun, you shield your eyes from the sun.

                                            >Feel a nudge on your leg.

                                            >Braeburn has his hat on his hoof.

                                            >"Here ya go. But I wan' it back later, ya hear?"

                                            >Pop it on your head.

                                            >Much better.

                                            >"My my my, you don't half suit that thing!"

                                            "Will you be okay without it?"

                                            >"Pssh. Livin out here gets you used to the sun, Anon. Don't they have wastelands where you're from?"

                                            "Kinda. But most people stay indoors and out of the heat"

                                            >"Sounds nice! So where d'ya fancy on goin' next?"

                                            "No idea. Know any good spots where the drinks -don't- remove the lining of your throat?"

                                            >Braeburn grins.

                                            >"I might know a place. Come on!"

                                            >He trots ahead of you, his tail swishing from side to side as he walks.

                                            >Sometimes there are things you just don't want to see.

                                            >Braeburn waits for you to catch up, the sweat on his brow apparent.

                                            "You sure you don't want your hat back? I could do without it."

                                            >"Nah. You hold onto it. Ya cute with it on."

                                            "What?"

                                            >"Over there! That's the place. Come on, Anon. I'm dyin' for a real drink o' water."

                                            >The building in question is on the outskirts of the town, away from all the hubbub of Appleoosa

                                            >Throwing caution to the wind, you follow Braeburn.

                                            >He pushes open the front door and shows you inside, closing the door behind you.

                                            >You're hit with a wave of... Musk.

                                            >The air is still, and smells of smoke, among other things.

                                            >"Hey Braeburn! Ya'll okay?"

                                            >"Doin' just dandy, Crammy!"

                                            >You follow Braeburn up to the bar, the caution you had just thrown to the wind having boomeranged back and hit you straight in the stomach like a fist made of regret and unease.

                                            >The fact that your inner monologues are getting increasingly more in-depth and poetic means that something sinister is lurking on the horizon, but you're not quite sure what.

                                            >Rather than dwell on the matter, you decide to order a drink in order to keep up appearances.

                                            "I'll take a water, thanks."

                                            >The bartender, a cream coloured pony with a light blue mane slides a fancy looking glass over to you, filled to the brim with crystal clear water.

                                            >He winks as he does it, a gesture that you've come to expect with this town.

                                            >You gulp the liquid down in one go, gently resting the glass on the bar again once you're done.

                                            >Braeburn whistles.

                                            >"Wow! You sure can down a lot of liquids, huh?"

                                            "That's one way of putting it."

                                            >"Who knows, it might serve ya well in the future."

                                            >By now your inner dialogue is going haywire. Images of down town Chicago and Private Eyes in trench coats with gravelly voices flashing through your mind like a perverted photo-reel.

                                            >This place's air is noxious, and your senses are on edge as you seem to start picking up every noise around you the same way an attentive and wary cat might do.

                                            >Your stalwart and oddly enthusiastic companion to your left pokes you with his soft hooves.

                                            >Now why would a stallion who works in a western town out in the middle of nowhere have such soft hooves--

                                            >"Anon? You okay?"

                                            "Huh? What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. So what now?"

                                            >The stallion's eyes go half lidded. A more naive version of yourself might suggest squinting in this dimly lit place. But his sudden relaxed demeanour upon entering this place has alerted you to something that might be amiss.

                                            >You take note of his hoof, now rubbing your leg slowly. Your eyes drift over to the corner of the watering hole, stallions of all shapes and sizes are sat in pairs or alone, melded into the shadows as if they've got something to hide.

                                            >Watching closely, a stallion in the far corner of the room moves his muzzle to the ear of his friend, lingering longer than his should before--

                                            >Your eyes widen and your heart rate increases two-fold as the stallion slowly licks the edge of his companion's ear.

                                            >Looking back to Braeburn, you see him sat closer to you, his teeth ever so slightly biting his lower lip.

                                            >Throughout all this, your muscles have been getting tenser by the minute, your primal instincts kicking in as all you can seem to hear is your heart beat.

                                            >Your vision seems to focus to perfect clarity, and the fight or flight instinct that is present in all of humanity is starting to take control.

                                            >As the time of action is rapidly drawing near, you take into careful consideration the exits, possible weapons and the weakest looking stallions in the room should anything terrible come to pa--

                                            "Braeburn, are you gay?"

                                            >"Yeah, why?"

                                            "Ah. Mystery solved. Sorry, I don't swing that way."

                                            >He sits back, dejection in his eyes.

                                            >"Aww shoot. Ah'm real sorry, Anon."

                                            "Hey, hey, no need for that."

                                            >Pat him on the back as he sighs.

                                            >"I just wanted to find somep0ny new... It's been so long, ya know?"

                                            "Stallions in here aren't very good?"

                                            >You smile and nod at the bartender as he slides you another water.

                                            >Gulp it down while Braeburn talks.

                                            >"It's not that... It's me. Folks say ah'm too... Feminine."

                                            "I thought that was an attractive trait in the gay community?"

                                            >"Not around these parts..."

                                            >Rub his back as he rests his chin on the counter.

                                            "It's alright, pal. Cheer up. We'll find you someone."

                                            >"Really?"

                                            "Sure, why not?"

                                            >Raise a hand so that the bartender can see you.

                                            "But first, I have the perfect solution for fixing heartache."

                                            >"Ya do?"

                                            "Eeyup."

                                            >The bartender slides over two ciders.

                                            "We're gonna get blitzed. Drink up, pony boy!"


                                            >"Leets finish our hooooolidaaaaaaaaay cheeeeeeer!"

                                            "Maaan, you're talkin' utter shit right now..."

                                            >Braeburn giggles and stumbles into your legs.

                                            >"You... Yooooou ain't so bad, Ahnon. Ah woulda liked to have been..."

                                            >He hiccups.

                                            >"Ffffffu-HIC-t by you."

                                            >Snicker as the drunk horse collapses to the floor.

                                            >Slog over and nudge him.

                                            "Brae. You had less than me. Hooow are you even drunk right now? How does that make sense?"

                                            >"Ahnon... -hic- I want you to fuck me..."

                                            >Start laughing.

                                            >It's not really funny, but the booze likes terrible jokes.

                                            >Grab the pony off the floor and swing him over your shoulder.

                                            "W-we gotta get you hooome Braeburn... Cummon. Where's it at."

                                            >Braeburn just groans in response.

                                            >"Ah think it's... That way."

                                            "Brae are you pointin' towards the bar again?"

                                            >He's silent for a moment.

                                            >"Maaaaybe."

                                            "Man, we're half way to Appleoosa, we can't be goin' back over there. It's like Niel Armstrong said, man. A bird in the blind makes the whole step a bush."

                                            >"Wow..."

                                            >He goes quiet again.

                                            >"That's so deep!"

                                            "I know, right."

                                            >After much drunken slurring and staggering around, you somehow manage to make it back to Appleoosa.

                                            >The moon hovers overhead.

                                            >Stop still and look up at it.

                                            "Maaaan, how long was we drinkin' for?"

                                            >"Hours, ah think..."

                                            "How is that even possible?"

                                            >"Time goes all funny like in the g-gay bathhouse, Ahnon... -hic-"

                                            "Gay whatnow?"

                                            >Snoring answers you.

                                            >Well fuck.

                                            >Now what.

                                            >Stumble towards a building marked "INN".

                                            >Push through the front door.

                                            >The mare behind the counter smiles up at you as you stumble in.

                                            >"Why, ya'll must be Ahnon! Applejack said you was comin'. Your room's ready an' bags are waitin' fer ya, anythin' else I can do fer ya'?"

                                            "...Nope..."

                                            >She giggles.

                                            >"Well alrighty then. You have a nice night, mister Ahnon!... But one question first."

                                            "Buh?"

                                            >"Who's uhh... Who's that over your shoulder?"

                                            "Fuggen... Braeburn, I think. I'm reeeally drunk right now, love. I can't be doin' with this Mastermind bullshit."

                                            >"Braebu... Oh. Oh my!"

                                            >She goes deep crimson.

                                            >"Right away, mister Ahnon."

                                            >She winks.

                                            >"Enjoy ya night"

                                            "Why you gotta be winkin' at a nigga..."

                                            >Stumble towards the stairs.

                                            "Why am I even sayin' nigga? I ain't black... God I wish I was black... You ever wish you was black, Brae?"

                                            >"zzzzzzz"

                                            "Fuggun 'orse."

                                            >Mange to find your room and push open the door.

                                            >Swing the inebriated pony off you and onto the bed.

                                            >He bounces and stirs.

                                            >"Huh, whaa? Oh... Hi, Ahnon."

                                            "Sssssup."

                                            >Collapse on the bed next to him.

                                            >He starts stammerin'.

                                            >"O-oh. Is this really happenin'?"

                                            >You don't answer. Too drunk and tired.

                                            >Braeburn hoof pumps the air and lets out a quiet "yes!"

                                            >While you're completely smashed, he starts trying to work a way around your pants.

                                            >"This is gonna be so much fun!"

                                            "Uuuuuuuuugh..."

                                            >"Ah know! Oh, it's been so long! ...You'll be gentle, right?"

                                            "I can't even... The fug is a Higgs Boson s'posed to be?"

                                            >Braeburn, unperturbed by your question of quantum particles, manages to unbuckle your pants, the adrenaline rushing through him sobering him up somewhat.

                                            >Pulling your pants down slightly, he reveals his prize.

                                            >His eyes light up and he repressed the urge to squeal like a foal on Hearth's Warming morn.

                                            >He licks his lips, tries to remember what to do, since the last time he did it he was in the high school colt's locker room, and drags his lips across the tip of your utterly flaccid dick.

                                            >When nothing happens, his ears go flat.

                                            >"Uhh... Oh... Um. Maybe if I..."

                                            >He gently takes your dick in his mouth and suckles it.

                                            >Sure enough, blood starts pumping into your cock, and Braeburn is rewarded with a rock hard dick.

                                            >You, on the other hand, are on the verge of falling asleep.

                                            >"Alright, here we go!"

                                            >Braeburn, being the devilishly adventurous stallion that he is, raises himself over you, placing the tip of your dick at his rarely used entrance.

                                            >"I hope it still feels as good as it did last time!"

                                            "Muons are a loada shit..."

                                            >"I love you too, Ahnon!"

                                            >And with that, he slams himself down on you.


                                            >Morning.

                                            >Sunlight hits you in the eyes like a baseball bat covered in photons.

                                            "Ugh..."

                                            >You're hungover, and still suffering from leftover quantum hatred.

                                            >Roll over.

                                            >A sleeping, smiling yellow face looks back.

                                            >Aww fuck it's Fluttershy again--

                                            >Wait, no, it's Braeburn. False alarm.

                                            >Sniff.

                                            >...

                                            >Sniff again.

                                            >Why does it smell like joy and pent up emotion in here?

                                            >Look down under the covers.

                                            >Your pants are off.

                                            >And your dick is hanging out.

                                            >Look back at your bedmate. Who you now realise -- Is in your bed.

                                            >Your eyes widen.

                                            >Launch yourself out of bed.

                                            "WOAH!"

                                            >"AAH! WHAT?!"

                                            >Braeburn panics and falls out of the other side of bed.

                                            >The two of you freeze.

                                            >Slowly, you both look at the bed, then back at each other.

                                            "We didn't."

                                            >He smiles sheepishly.

                                            >"Ah, uh..."

                                            >Your heart is now in your mouth. Figuratively speaking.

                                            "Oh god I fucked a horse. A male horse."

                                            >"In your defence, you were really good at it!"

                                            "OH FUCKING HELL!"

                                            >"I-it's alright, Ahnon! It's normal round these parts!"

                                            >Your screaming has alerted Applejack, who must have been staying in the other room.

                                            >She bursts through the door.

                                            >"What's goin' on?... AHNON! WHY ARE YOU HALF NAKED?"

                                            "I FUCKED YOUR COUSIN!"

                                            >"WHY DID YOU FUCK MY COUSIN?!"

                                            "I WAS SO DRUNK!"

                                            >Applejack smacks Braeburn

                                            >"WHY DID YOU SLEEP WITH MY EMPLOYEE! AND FRIEND!"

                                            >"He came on to me!"

                                            >Applejack glares at you

                                            >"Is this true?!"

                                            "Fuck no!"

                                            >You both look back to Braeburn.

                                            >"W-well... He didn't come on to me... He came -into- me...

                                            "FUCKING BRAEBURN."


                                            The End