Posey Becomes Jesus (But Not Actually The Title) - 3k Word Preview

If you're interested in prereading/editing the full 10k word story, send me a message on fimfiction. I'm particularly looking for help in nailing emotional beats involving sadness, suspense, and obscene nonsense. https://www.fimfiction.net/user/556489/Unicycled

Sunny Starscout was a boring pony. Thankfully, A smoothie delivery had brought her out to the museum. The Houvre. A place where there were ponies far more interesting than her. Artists were quite the bunch of freaks—not something that Sunny would think, she was more in awe that each pony was special with interests worth celebrating. How lovely.

The museum's door clicked shut. Another satisfied customer. Sunny reached into her saddlebags and took out her rollerblades. Sunny loved the sunset. It always reminded her of all the friends she had when she was little. She began to to skate down the path, smoothie carriage rattling behind her.

Twilight Sparkle's fervor as a milquetoast mediator resonated with Sunny. You would have thought that Sunny's dorky smile was caused by Twilight's time in the pop star scene. But no. Her shuffling hooves grew faster and faster to the picture in her mind—Twilight waving goodbye to the sun and hello to the moon. I don't mean any ill will towards Sunny but it creeped me out a little.

Dullard thought happens to everypony, but wow. Sunny's sunbeams and moonrays were enough to distract her. She didn't see pony still painting away in the courtyard as she sped forward. Oh wait. Yes, she did—Sunny shifted her weight and slid to a stop. Sunny's mouth popped open—banal praise at the ready—but her carriage hadn't stopped. It ripped free from its harness and knocked the painter off her hooves like a runaway tramcar.

The easel clattered to the ground and the painting landed sunny side down. Sunny stepped backwards as she watched yellow and pink meet red.

"I'm so sorry, Posey." Sunny said.

Ah, Posey. An actual, honest-to-me, interesting pony. A magnet for misfortune but next to Sunny she may as well been the lord and savior of all of pony literature.

"Are you okay?" Sunny trotted over as Posey pulled herself back on her hooves.

"Do you know how long that took me?" Posey's lips crumpled. The skin around her eyes was drawn taught by the green bow that she used to strangle her ponytail.

Sunny leaned down toward the fallen painting. A whiff of air hit her face as Posey ripped it off the ground and set it back back up on its easel.

"How do I get rid of this horn?" Posey said.

Sunny looked at the painting. It was nearly complete—a portrait of a mare against a green, crystal patterned background. There was a chunk of exposed canvas where the forehead intersected the mane.

"What do you mean?" Sunny said.

"It's paint-by-number. It wants me to draw a horn here."

"What's paint-by-number?"

"That unicorn friend of yours told me it would make me an artist—she failed to mention that it would be a unicorn artist."

"So, it tells you how to paint something?"

Posey ran her brush over the portrait and created a smudge across the mane. "I wish."

"It's okay, Posey—you'll get better. I'm sure you'll get a painting into the museum some day."

"Pfft. The curator brought in stuff from Bridlewood and Zephyr Heights. I tried to tell her that the whole point of the Houvre was to show off our art. Now nopony wants to see anything by an earth pony."

"There's a place for everypony in art. Why don't I help you find your inspiration?"

"Hold that thought, Sunny—forever, preferably. It's been a long day and there's no bathroom in there."

"Come on, we could schedule something!" Sunny yelled as Posey skittered off.

We can skip the tedium of Sunny's trip home as well as her hellos to her friends. But speaking of Sunny's friends—I have a craving for chalk—let's do math.

What happens when you put a boring pony next to an interesting pony?

If you said that you get two boring ponies, you would be correct—for Sunny's friends, that was the case. But Posey. Now she was a special pony with interests worth celebrating.

Sunny smashed her hooves against Posey's door and screamed, "I was up the entire night. The entire night." Her forehead was drenched. "I almost threw up—I should have thrown up. What you did to me. I couldn't even tell them because I know they'd blame themselves. You, Posey, are the sickest, most disgusting, awful pony I have ever met. Do you know how much I cried last night?"

But let's not introduce Jazz to Fillydelphia just yet.

Sunny knocked on Posey's door.

"No, Windy—for the last time, I'm not buying flight insurance." The door swung open. Posey glowered.

Sunny pulled a flier to eye level. "Did you see? The Houvre is having an open art day tomorrow and the best piece gets to be permanently displayed!"

"I work there—I was the one who printed the fliers." Posey closed the door, or at least tried to—Sunny stopped it with her hoof.

"What are you going to show?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, it's your dream."

"My dream is to live in a town without Sunny Starscout."

"What about your paint-by-number? You spent so long on that."

"Twenty minutes?" Posey tilted her head.

"Come on, you just have to try!"

"Can calligraphy be art?" Posey leaned down behind the half-closed door. When she came back up, she had a hoof-written sign in her teeth that read No Solicitors.

"You can't let an opportunity like this pass you by," Sunny said, "let me at least take you out to town to find some inspiration."

"I do like food," Posey said, "free food."

"Aren't you going to eat your fillet?" Sunny looked down at Posey's plate. Salmon breaded and crisped then peppered with tumeric and thyme. A lemon sauce had been dabbled around it to create a smile and a pair of wings.

"The appetizers were enough," Posey said. "Since when did Fishermare's start serving pegasus food?" She twirled the flag she had pulled out of her meal. It bore a print of a familiar pop star princess's face.

"Actually, pegasi live way up in the mountains, I don't think fish are part of their diet. Plum Chum must just want everypony to feel welcome."

The beat of a bongo drum piped up. The lights dimmed and the overhead spotlight moved toward a tiny stage in the corner of the restaurant. A unicorn started to rap to the beat. Fish food. Fish fuel.

Sunny whispered, "Oh my gosh, I thought I saw Onyx come in—Slam Poetry."

"I didn't know unicorns did that," Posey said.

Wasn't our thing; now it's cool.

"Maybe you could do some for the art show?" Sunny said.

"The whole unity thing made me never want to write again." Posey set her fork down on the plate between ten and four o'clock. "'Horns like razors, teeth like tacks.' It's not anything anypony wants to hear anymore."

"No, but pony unity is in style. How about some free verse?"

"Waiter, could you get the bill—and take my plates." Posey dropped the flag next to her fork and yawned.

"You can take mine too." Sunny look down at her last two fish sticks. They had tasted like freezer burn but she knew Plum Chum was just doing her best. She pushed the fish sticks onto one side of the plate and the crumbs to the other.

Plum Chum slid their dishes onto a serving tray and balanced it on her back. When she came back with the bill, Posey stamped her hoof across the other side of the table.

Sunny forced out a chuckle as the receipt unfurled down the side of the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Plum Chum clearing their plates into the trash.

"What's going on Plum Chum." Sunny walked over. "Isn't Roe Flow going to eat the leftovers? I left him my fish sticks—Posey even had the daily special."

"Health code," Plum Chum said.

"Health code? Have fresh fish?"

"That new Pony Unity Life Act."

The Earth Pony, Pegasi, Unicorn Unity for Life Act.

Sunny slumped back down next to the table. The taste of unwashed pen filled her mouth as she wrote thank you on the bill.

“So that's a no for poetry,” Sunny said. “How about yes to sculpture?”

“Sculptures do stand out,” Posey said, “I'd love to have a huge display with my name on it.”

“Izzy is a master at unicycling!” Sunny put her hoof to the door of the Crystal Brighthouse.

“Oh, no. I can do without her schemes.”

“Come on, she doesn't bite.” Sunny pulled Posey through the door.

“Hey, Sunny,” Zipp said. She was sitting on the couch. “Hey, Posey?”

Posey scowled.

“Is Izzy home?” Sunny said.

“Nope, she's out swimming through trash”—Zipp flew over then unfolded her phone into a tablet—“but check this out!”

On the screen was a digital painting of hundreds of pegasi soaring through a stormy cloudscape.

“Wow, Zipp did you make that?” Sunny said. She noticed that the leader was none other than Zipp herself. There was even a pink one by her side with a phone in her mouth.

“It's called Stable Hoofusion.”

“That's a weird name,” Posey said.

“No, it's the name of the app I used to make it. Watch this.” Zipp pressed a button on the screen and commanded aloud, “Make it so all of the pegasi are fighting a giant Posey.”

The painting was transformed in a blink. The army of pegasi was now flying against a backdrop of flowers. They frowned in unison, eyes focused on the large pink posy that had blocked their flight path.

“Woah, it did that for you that quick?” Sunny said.

“You can do stuff from scratch too, try it!” Zipp held the tablet out in front of her.

“Uh—A happy pony with a big smile!” Sunny said.

A moment later a portrait of a pegasus smiling appeared on the screen—yes, it was as plain and boring as you're thinking.

“Let me try,” Posey said, “Do a landscape painting in the style of Reinbrandt with a hint of influence from the Apple Golden Age. Utilize underpainting for contrast then cross hatching on the top layer. Make it take place on a hot sunny day with the point of interest being an unbelievably gorgeous earth pony with a delicate yellow coat, flowing pink mane, and green eyes. She should be standing high above the largest flower garden in Equestria which is being tended by unwashed pegasi and unicorns.”

The wiggling bar on the screen chugged then froze. Posey smirked—then the screen changed. She shrieked and stammered backwards.

It was perfect—from the brush techniques to the setting and the imagery, it was even better than what she had seen in her mind's eye. The garden extended beyond the horizon. The peasants were individually detailed and just as thin and underfed as they deserved. And there was one pony above it all, among rolling hills and lotus trees; a self-portrait. There was an itch at the back of Posey’s head. She wanted to undo her bows, drop her necklace, flick up her tail and become the mare on the screen.

But then, she saw it—wings. The Posey had wings. That pony had wings. And the other one and the other one.

“Awful—completely useless.” Posey stuck up her chin.

“Oh,” Zipp said, “I forgot to mention the app is made from older data. It doesn't have a lot of knowledge about earth ponies or unicorns.”

“You should get them to work on that,” Sunny said. “But are you going to show off that cool pegasi drawing tomorrow?”

“What?” Posey said, “She can't enter something that somepony else made.”

Zipp rolled her eyes.

“Alright, out the door.” Hitch walked past with a bunnycorn in tow.

“What'cha up to, Hitch?” Sunny said.

Sunny and Posey stepped outside after Hitch and his fluffy friend.

“I've been trying to get Mr. Marbles to stop ‘going’ in Izzy's craft corner.” Hitch said.

“Eww,” Posey said. She paused then her lips curled into a smirk.

“It's the darndest thing, though,” Hitch said, “Izzy's influence has really rubbed off on him. The marbles he leaves behind are always in these strange patterns, yesterday's was a starburst. He's becoming quite the artist.”

“TMI, Hitch. TMI,” Sunny said, “Speaking of Izzy, do you know which trash heap or dumpster she was looking through? We wanted to see if she would help us make a sculpture.”

A manic laugh rang out behind them. They turned toward the garden—Izzy had a welding torch in her mouth.

Sunny and Posey trotted over. Junk had been arranged vertically—over four ponies high. Within it were parts of bicycles, lantern holders, even a tramcar railing welded into a structure that looked like a hollowed out tree.

“Woah,” Sunny said.

“Like it?” Izzy said, flipping up her welding mask. “It's a unverse fountain.” She hopped down from the top of the pile.

“That doesn't look anything like a fountain,” Posey said.

“Well, of course not!” Izzy said, “It's a unverse fountain. It's not done yet, though. I'm still trying to figure out how to make the water unverse!” Her horn glowed and the end of the garden hose levitated.

Posey took a step back. “I'm not sticking around for this.”

“Yeah,” Sunny said, “I'm going to stand over here.”

“Aww, come on,” Izzy said as she bit into the end of the hose. The spigot let out a squeak and trickle of water dripped out. “I know!” Izzy's voice was muffled. She looked toward Posey and started running.

“Get away from me!” Posey said.

“I want you to take it,” Izzy said.

“Only if I get to hose you down.” Posey continued to run.

“Okay.” Izzy sat down and her ears turned back.

“Fine—what do you want me to do?” Posey took another glance. It was only a trickle.

Izzy dropped the hose at Posey's hooves. “Make the water unverse in the fountain!”

“What's unverse?” Sunny said.

“Well, it's like when the water goes from the top of the fountain to the bottom then into the hose instead of the other way around.”

“You mean ‘inverse.’” Posey looked down at the hose. “Do you have anything to wipe the nozzle?”

“She doesn't have germs,” Sunny said.

“It's self-cleaning.” Izzy's horn lit up. The spigot made a squeak as the handle glowed and began to spin.

The hose spat water and started snaking around on the ground. Posey hesitated, hooves shivering before breaking away.

“Izzy!” Sunny said as ice water hit her fetlocks.

Whether it was intentional or not—you could never tell when it came to Izzy—the spigot handle continued to turn counterclockwise. Faster and faster. So fast that the handle flew off. Thankfully there was an emergency shutoff button.

Except it wasn't an emergency shutoff button.

A heavy mechanical whirring sounded out from below. Seagulls scattered and racoonicorns fled. The hose swelled, burst, then exploded out. A pressurized beam of water hammered the nearby fence. It collapsed onto the ground with a thump.

The hose shot upwards; airborne, rippling and dancing in a wild wave as it flew across the garden and knocked Mr. Marbles into the dirt.

“Hey!” Hitch yelled.

Sunny and Posey raced around, zipping back and forth. Izzy giggled maniacally and danced to the ladybug jamboree playing in her head.

You would be surprised to hear that Posey had not gotten wet nor would she get wet—with water at least. The nozzle came down hard in front of her, burying itself in the soil under her hooves. Pressure built up for only a moment—pop. The garden vomited clotted slop. It painted Posey; carrot bits, roots, and bunnycorn marbles swept her off her hooves, smiting her down with a chunky splat.

Hitch reached the switch.

“Oops,” Izzy said.

“Now Izzy,” Hitch said. “Did I not tell you to be careful with the pressure washer?”

“I don't recall, Sheriff,” Izzy said.

“It's for cleaning the fence,” Hitch said, “you practically destroyed it!” He looked toward the fallen fence. “And you gave Mr. Marbles quite the scare too.” The bunnycorn snickered. “No, Mr. Marbles, we're not going to do it again.”

“Sorry, Hitch.” Sunny said.

Posey spat brown, tucked under her blanket of mud.

Sunny looked down toward Posey. “Are you okay?”

“It's so weird that the hose didn't even get me,” Izzy said, “I was trying as hard as I could.”

“Are we having a party?” Pipp landed on the garden path and lifted up her phone. “Why didn't anypony invite me?”

“We're making a unverse fountain!” Izzy said.

“A what?” Pipp said.

“Well, we took a break so Posey could spray me with the hose,” Izzy said. “She missed.”

Pipp put her hoof to her nose as she approached Izzy. Izzy had mud around her fetlocks. “You must be freezing, come inside the Brighthouse and let me give you a proper pampered glow up.”

Wet suction gurgled behind Pipp. Her eyes widened—a muddy creature from below. Angry green eyes stared back at her. “Posey?”

“You must be freezing...” Posey muttered and mocked, “...come inside, get a proper pampered glow up.”

“Aw, Posey, are you okay?” Pipp said. “I didn't see you there. Covered in mud.”

“I am done with you ponies.” Posey's limbs wobbled as she climbed onto her hooves. She shook herself off. Mud flew in every direction. “Don't talk to me. Don't come to my house. Don't go to my museum. Ever again.”

“No—wait,” Sunny said.

“Yeah, Posey.” Pipp said. “Izzy's repulsive stench can wait—no offense.” She looked toward Izzy.

“Unpulsive stench,” Izzy said.

“I'll give you the royal treatment.” Pipp raised her hoof to Posey's cheek.

“I've changed my mind.” Posey ripped away. “It wasn’t pegasi or unicorns that ruined Maretime Bay. There are plenty of ponies who know how to mind their own business—and honestly, I've grown to like some of them.

“But there is one pony who never minds her own business.

“A little pleasantry here and there, she'd say. But that meddling. That meddling always brings in a tidal wave of pain that leaves the entire town reeling. Especially me.

“Who encouraged Fifi and made her believe that her terrible flying was good enough to deliver a cartload of fruit without dropping it everywhere?

“Who told Dhalia to work on her magic and ended up causing a nation wide sneezedemic?

“Who dragged me around their oh-so-cushy castle to ‘inspire’ me and left me covered in fetid filth?

“Let me tell you, it wasn't Izzy. And I do have many problems with Izzy, yes—I can't stand her. But did she bring me here? No.

“And let me ask you something, Izzy. The last time you chased me across town, why were you doing that?”

Izzy didn't have to think. “To fix the lantern for Su—”

“Exactly,” Posey said, “If there's anything that I've learned through all of this pony unity stuff is that all types of ponies can be awful. And you, Sunny Starscout—the self-proclaimed embodiment of all types of ponies—are every rotten one of them.”

Posey paused for a moment. “I'm sorry, Pipp. Thank you, but I’m going home now.” She turned around. “And Izzy—as much as I hate to admit it—I did like that paint-by-number. Flaws and all.”

Sunny stood silent and looked down at the mud pooling around her hooves.

“Don't listen to her, Sunny.” Hitch said. “It's just Posey being Posey. It was me who installed the pressure washer.”

“I just wanted to encourage her.” Sunny’s voice quivered. “But she's right—I ruined everything.”

“Two sad ponies.” Zipp arrived on the scene. “What happened? Actually—don't answer that.” She glanced at the spigot handle lying on the ground, the metal behemoth, and Posey's new outfit. “Pipp, take Posey to the shower—she's not walking home like that. And Sunny, don’t even think about cacooning up in your bed.”

Zipp frequently thought of herself as the main character. Maybe she should have been. Her voice was authoritative, no nonsense—comforting.

Posey noticed. Suddenly the trot home covered in mud didn't seem so appealing. A suggestion thought up by somepony else. Somepony that wasn't Sunny. She wasn't going to admit it, of course—she continued down the path but as expected, Pipp jumped out in front of her.

“What do you say?” Pipp said.

Posey looked down. “Fine.” She couldn’t keep her lips from turning up into a smile.

Pipp, Posey, and Izzy (to Posey’s dismay) headed to the Brighthouse.

“Thanks, Zipp.” Sunny said. “I really messed up.”

“It's just mud. It'll come out,” Zipp said.

“I know, but she was right to blame me. For everything.”

“Posey's just mean,” Hitch said.

“No,” Sunny said. “Earlier today, we were at Fishermare's. Plum Chum threw away our leftovers—Roe Flow didn't even get to see them,” Sunny said.

“That's outrageous, no way would she do that!” Hitch said, “Roe Flow always gets my leftover fries.”

“You don't get it. They were following the new Earth Pony, Pegasi, Unicorn Unity for Life Act.”

“You didn't write the details,” Zipp said.

“And I did sign off on it,” Hitch said.

“I know, but maybe I shouldn't be meddling in everypony's business.”

I apologize—I was feeling a little pensive. We can skip this part. I'm sure you already guessed what was happening. Doggy bags and platitudes.