Title: THE BIG BLUEBLOODSKI Chapter 3 Author: KmScMT Pastebin link: http://pastebin.com/v5hKAK7i First Edit: Wednesday 5th of February 2014 11:35:12 PM CDT Last Edit: Wednesday 5th of February 2014 11:35:12 PM CDT THE BIG BLUEBLOODSKI A Crossover Fic by ObscureBrony   Chapter 3: Over the Line   Dude sat at the scorers table as Donnie stepped up to the line.  This was a big game for the entire group, the winner of this enters the next round robin, after which is the finals.  Donnie was in his zone tonight, he has gotten 5 strikes in 6 frames already, and he was going for another one.  There was always something with the way Donnie bowls.  The smirk he gives off as soon as his hoof releases the ball, it’s a look that says it all.  It screams “Yeah, I got this.”  And sure enough, as soon as he released the ball down the lane, it hit dead center of the pins, knocking all ten down.  A picture perfect strike.   “I’m slamming them tonight!  You guys are dead in the water!” Donnie casually pointed over to the group they were facing, one of the ponies, Smokey, going up to the line for his turn.   “ALL RIGHT!  WAY TO GO DONNIE!” Walter bellowed as he went down to sit next to Dude, ball in one saddlebag and a dog carrier in his hoof.  He set both down, a baffled look on the Dude’s face.   “If you will it, Dude, there is no dream.” Walter said.   “You’re twenty minutes late man, what the fuck is that?” Dude kept his eyes fixated on the carrier.   “State of Cloudsdale, Dude.  If you will it, there is no dream.” Walter repeated his quote   “No man I mean what’s that?  What’s in the fucking carrier?”   “Huh?  Oh, this is Cynthia’s dog, I’m watching it for her while she’s on honeymoon in Canterlot with her fiancé.  I can’t leave it at home or else it will eat the furniture.  I think it’s a Pomeranean.” Walter opened the carrier and let the dog run a little free in the space near their alley.   “You brought the fucking pomeranean bowling?” The Dude asked as he looked at Walter, still trying to believe if this was really happening.   “Bring it bowling?  I didn’t bring it bowling.  I’m not renting it a ball.  I’m not buying it a fucking cider.  It’s not taking your fucking turn Dude.”   “Walter if my ex told me to watch her dog while she went to Canterlot with her new boyfriend I’d tell her to go fuck herself.  Why can’t you board it?”   “First off Dude, you don’t have an ex.  Second, this is a fucking show dog with fucking papers.  You can’t board it or else it will get upset.  It’s hair will fall out.  Fucking dog has fucking papers.” As Walter looked back and forth between Dude and the other team, Smokey took his turn letting the ball go down the alley.  However, Walter notice that his hoof slipped ever so slightly over the black line, indicating where to release the ball.  As soon as he saw this, he jumped on it.   “OVER THE LINE!”   Smokey turned around in confusion, previously pleased of knocking down 8 pins, he looked at Walter as if he had done something completely wrong.   “I’m sorry Smokey, you were over the line that’s a foul.” Walter flatly said as he resumed lacing up his shoes.   “Horseapples, mark it eight Dude.” Smokey said, pointing over to Dude.   “Uh, excuse me.  Mark it zero, next frame.” Walter turned to Dude to give him the order.   “Bullshit Walter!  Mark it eight, Dude!” Smokey’s use of language suddenly garnered Walter’s full attention.  Nobody outside the three of them ever used language like that, and coming from a pony like Smokey, he knew something was up.   “Smokey this is not ‘Bex this is bowling, there are rules.” Walter said.   “Hey Walter, man, it’s Smokey.  So his hoof slipped over the line a little, it’s just a game man.” Dude interjected, hoping to keep it civil with Walter and Smokey.   “This is a league game.  This determines who enters the next round robin.  Am I wrong?” Walter first asked Dude, or seems to have asked Dude before turning to Smokey. “Am I wrong?”   “Yeah but I wasn’t over!” Smokey decided that enough was enough. “Give me the marker Dude, I’m marking an eight.”   Walter snorted out an annoyed breath out of his nostrils.  He opened his bowling bag reaching into the side pocket and pulled out something Dude did not want to see.  It was a military pistol, held in Walter’s hoof, and Walter was shooting daggers out of his eyes at Smokey.   “Smokey, my friend.  You’re entering a world of pain.” Walter said with the utmost calmness in his voice.   Dude almost hesitated to get involved. “Walter, man…”   “You mark that frame an eight you’re entering a world of pain.”   “B-But..” Smokey backed up a little, still trying to defend his stance.   “A world of pain.”   “Look…it’s just…”   “Has the whole world gone CRAZY?!” Walter shouted as he slowly got up onto his hoofs, pistol still in hand.  “AM I THE ONLY ONE AROUND HERE WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT THE RULES?!  MARK IT ZERO!”   “They’re calling the guards man, put the piece away.” Dude said noting the several diving ponies hiding underneath pool tables and bar stools, the Pomeranean jumping up and down at Walter’s leg barking like crazy, and Donnie cowering behind Dude.   “MARK IT ZERO!” Walter now pointed the pistol right at Smokey, looking to hit him dead in between the eyes.   “Walter put the piece away.” Dude tried another attempt to talk some sense into his crazed friend, but to no avail.   “Walter?” Smokey shakily said, trying his best not to flee in fear of what might happen if he even moves.   “DO YOU THINK I’M FUCKING AROUND HERE, MARK IT ZERO!” Walter pulled his pistol back and gave it an enthusiastic cock back, chambering a round and pointing it back at Smokey.  Dude decided enough was enough.  He hastily and quickly guided Smokey’s hoofs over to the scoring table, giving him a marker.  Smokey in reaction reached down and marked a zero on the frame, dropping the marker like it was a hot iron once he was done.   “Alright, it’s fucking zero!  Are you happy now you crazy fuck?” Smokey said as he shakily walked back to his lane and to his team. Walter was seated back down in his seat next to Dude, casually expelling the magazine and disarming the gun.  The booming rage that was expelled earlier is seemingly subdued as he casually put his handgun back in his bag, acting as if nothing happened.   “It’s a league game, Smokey.”           “You can’t do that man.” Dude said to Walter.  Both of them were walking out of the Ponyville Bowl and on their way to Dude’s cart.  “These people, they’re like me, they’re pacifists.  Smokey was a conscientious objector.”   “You know Dude, I myself dabbled in pacifism at one point.  Not in ‘Bex of course.” Walter said as he put his carrier and his saddlebags in the back of Dude’s cart.   “And you know that he’s got emotional problems man!” Dude scoffed at Walter as he loaded his stuff into the back of the cart.   “What, you mean beyond pacifism?” Walter asked as if unaware of his surroundings.   Dude rolled his eyes and facehoofed, it was clear that Walter wasn’t getting the point.   “He’s fragile man!  Very fragile!” Dude said as he hooked up to his cart.   “Oh.  I did not know that.” Walter hooked himself up to the other side of Dude’s cart.  “Well it’s all water under the bridge now.  And we do enter the next round robin, am I wrong?” Walter said with optimism.   “No, you’re not wrong.” Dude said flatly.   “Am I wrong?”   “You’re not wrong, you’re just an asshole!”   “Well ok then.  We play Quintana and O’Brien next week.  Should be pushovers.” Walter said as a guard chariot pulled up to the front of the Bowl, a few guards getting out and entering the premises.   “Look man…will you just take it easy, man?” Dude asked, clearly trying to level with Walter.   “You know that’s your answer for everything Dude.  And let me tell you something, pacifism is nothing to hide behind!” Walter said.   “Just take it easy man!” Dude said, wondering if he might have to spell it out for Walter.   “I’m perfectly calm Dude.” Walter said, giving a shrug as he did.  Dude’s jaw dropped slightly baffled at hearing that from the pony who moments ago was holding someone at gunpoint.   “Yeah waving the fucking GUN around?!” Dude yelled at Walter.   “Calmer than you are.” Walter said in a low calm voice, occasionally looking back at the situation unfolding inside the Bowl.   “Would you just take it easy?!” Dude said, his voice still raised.   “Calmer than you are.” Walter whispered as the two of them started to pull the cart back towards Dude’s home.