Title:           Scootaloo and Michael Jordan work at Cluckin' Bell
Author:          Err0rfag
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/zyhpb8gq
First Edit:      Friday 15th of August 2014 06:18:46 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Friday 15th of August 2014 06:18:46 PM CDT

>You are Michael Jordan
>After all of your successes in life, shit hit the fan.
>You were removed from both the Bulls after a tragic accident.
>Said accident was when you were traded to San Andreas.
>They were disbanded after a shootout in the parking lot.
>In the meantime, your wife wanted to stay in SA.
>Multiple times you attempted to persuade her to moving back to Chicago.
>But she just never gave in.
>Years have passed, and you’ve run out of Basketball money months ago.
>Your only option was to get a job.
>Said job involved working with a filly named Scootaloo.
>When you were told that, you thought your boss was on some serious shit.
 
>“Scootaloo, please step into my office.”
>Both amazed and confused, you watch a small orange pegasus entered the room.
“Sir, how is this possible?”
>“Hell if I know, but since she’s started here, sales have grown by 15%!”
>You look dumbfounded at the little filly as she blushes a bit
-------------
>Your first day at Cluckin' Bell isn't so bad.
>If it wasn't for that little filly, you could have quit at any point.
>It was just so monotonous.
>There were barely any people at the place whatsoever.
>Although there was this one guy who ordered the largest thing on the menu and scarfed it down right in front of you.
>That was pretty impressive, yet disgusting.
 
>It’s near the end of the day, and you ask Scootaloo how she got here and why she chose to work here.
>"About a week ago, my friends and I barged into Twilight's house. I guess she was practicing a spell, and she accidentally shot me with her magic and put me here."
"Must have been tough for you."
>"It was, and the boss saw me on the street and offered me this job. I guess it was because of these."
>She nods to her wings.
>"So... what did you do before this?
-------------
>You begin to think back to happier times.
>The Toons, the feeling of a 3-pointer.
>Tears begin to form, and Scootaloo notices
>"Oh, I'm so sorry! Is this a sore subject?"
"No, it was just better than this."
>You start your story with when you joined the Chicago Bulls, and end it when you were traded.
>It's well past the shifts of both you and Scootaloo, and you were just sitting in a booth.
"I bet it doesn't beat your story, huh?"
>"I guess it doesn't."
>She just stares at you as you idly look out the window.
>"I guess I should be going now."
>You watch her wiggle out of the booth and exit out of the restaurant.
>A quick look at your watch says that you should get going too.
>As you enter your car, you put in the Space Jam CD.
 
>You pull up into your driveway and leave the car.
>When you open the front door, a familiar voice calls to you.
>"How was your day honey?"
"It was better than I thought it was going to be."
>You go to bed whilst thinking about how much you hate your wife right now.
>What did she see in this place? It was helluva lot worse than Chicago.
>You drift to sleep.
-----------------------------
>Your dreams include slams and jams.
>The alarm on your nightstand goes off.
>You get off the bed and push the alarm button.
>Getting ready for work is a blur, and you find yourself in the parking lot.
>At least you can get to know more about Scootaloo, right?
>Thankfully, it helps pass the time between customers.
>You learn more about her world, and vice versa.
>You haven't reached the subject on guns and killing yet.
>You begin to tell her about slamjams.
>She's just speechless the entire way through.
>You finish and ask her if she has any questions.
>"Can you teach me how to play basketball?"
>You were expecting this question.
"I don't know, wouldn't flying be cheating?"
>She gets a sad look in her eye.
"You know I'm just kidding, right?"
>She's still looking upset about something.
>"I... can't fly."
>Well fuck.
>How the hell were you supposed to know?
"It's fine, I can't fly either."
>"You’re so much bigger than I am!"
"I'm sure you will grow, and also fly, as you get older."
>She has a hopeful glisten in her eyes.
"We'll play after work, okay?"
>She very quickly nods her head with a smile.
>Why is she so damn cute?
-----------------------------
>Nothing much happens after that.
>When work is over for the day, you hold out the door for Scoots.
>She thanks you with a blush.
>You unlock your door as you’re walking to the car.
>Scootaloo speeds ahead of you.
>Sounds of exasperation come from her as she tries to open the door.
>”Why are these so hard to open?”
“They were made for human hands.”
>You open the door for her once again.
>”I could have done it myself, you know.”
“I sped up the process.”
>She gives you a quick glare, and then giggles.
>”I guess you’re right.”
>She begins to look at all of the buttons and gauges in the car.
>”What does this button do?
>You see an orange hoof turn on the CD player.
>As it turns out, the Space Jam album is still in the CD player.
>You hum along to it, but Scoots is just looking around to find the source of the music.
“There are speakers all in the car, just so you know.”
>After the initial shock, she does a small dance.
>You swear, she’s doing this on purpose.
>While listening to the Album, she asks about everything in the car.
>You are happy to answer.
 
>You park near a barren basketball court.
“You ready?”
>”Of course!”
>It feels great to slam and jam with Scootaloo.
>She’s a fast learner.
>Her wings flutter to help her dunk.
>You have to admit, she’s getting good.
>As she’s finishes her final dunk, you head over to a nearby bench.
“I think we’ve played enough for today.”
>”What?  So soon?
“It’s 8:32 at night, Scoots.”
>”Fine, you’re no fun.”
-------------------------------------------
>The ride home is a bit more calm.
>Wait a moment…
>Where does she live?
“So, where do you live at the moment?”
>She looks to the floorboards.
>”I don’t have a home.”
>Why did you expect this cruel town to give her a home?
“Then, where do you go after work?”
>”The alley behind Cluckin’ Bell.
>Fuck.
>She’s slept in that alley for a week?
“Why don’t you stay at my place?”
>You can feel the happiness ooze from her.
>”Yes!  Yes please!”
>You grin back at her.
>”Before we do that, can we go back to Cluckin’ Bell?”
“Why’s that?”
>”Just some things I need to grab, is that okay with you?”
“Of course.”
>She’s brung stuff from her world?
>Hopefully magic things.
 
>You follow Scootaloo to her alley.
>Nobody seems to mind the small filly.
>You guess word about the filly spread fast.
>Facing the alley, it’s everything you expected.
>Well, almost everything.
>It’s dark, damp, and dreary, just like you thought.
>But a small red cape with a pony sewed into it is on the ground.
>What does it mean?
“What’s that cape for?”
>”It’s from a group my friends and I were in.”
“Oh?  And what is this group called?”
>”The Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
>She sadly smiles at the cape.
---------------------------------------------
>You can’t help but feel bad for the filly.
“Should we get going?”
>”Yeah, let’s go.”
 
>Your wife is standing in the driveway.
>”Where the hell have you been, Michael?”
“Playing some B-ball, why do you ask?”
>”And you come back at 9 p.m?”
“Yes, I did.”
>She should know how much you love to slam and jam.
“Yvette, honey, you need to calm down.”
>”Why should I calm down?”
>The orange filly’s hiding behind your legs.
“You’re scaring Scootaloo.”
>”What the hell is a Scootaloo?”
>You motion to the bit of purple hair sticking out behind you.
>The young pegasus steps out and gives a nervous smile.
>”This is what you got me worried for?”
“I guess so.”
>”So you chose this…”
“Pony.”
>”Over me?”
>What the hell is she talking about?
-------------------------------------------------
“What do you mean?”
>”Why didn’t you at least call?”
“I was giving her Basketball lessons.”
>”That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Scootaloo needs somewhere to stay.”
>”Michael, you know we can’t afford another mouth to feed.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
>Yvette gives you a glare.
>”You’re not blaming ME, are you?”
“Yes, why didn’t we just move back to Chicago?”
>”It’s nice here, honey.”
“There’s nothing for us here.”
>”Of course there is! There’s the beach, th-”
“I meant moneywise, there’s no basketball team that I can join, and Clucken’ Bell pays jack shit.”
>In the back of your head, a voice says you shouldn’t swear in front of Scootaloo.
>This’ll be a long night.
 
4 months later…
>You still can’t believe that you had to divorce your wife when you needed money.
>At least Scootaloo kept you company in such a large mansion.
>Life on 2700 Point Dr was getting back to normal.
>Air Jordans were back in business, and the Bulls.
>And Scootaloo was offered a scholarship because of her slams and jams.
>Life was good.
>It was better than good.
>It was the jamminest.