Alissa snapped her fingers. "...the storm cellar! That'd be a great place to hide!"
"Well, we're gonna have to get there fast, 'cause look!" Ian pointed into the restaurant: over half of the windows were now gone, with dozens of meaty arms reaching through, grabbing whatever they could of the junk piled in their way and tossing them back outside.
Alissa pushed against the refrigerator. "It's under here! Help me out!"
Ian took Alissa's side and helped her push while Horace yanked on the other end, but the legs of the heavy appliance screeched along the floor only a few inches with each precious second. Outside the kitchen, a brown stallion in a trench coat managed to tumble over the window ledge and roll onto the linoleum floor, and with a huff he wobbled onto his feet, stomping towards the kitchen while sliding aside anything in his path.
"HURRY IT UP, GUYS!!!" Horace yelled.
"KEEP PULLING AND WE'LL GET THERE!!!" Alissa screamed back.
More ponies tumbled into the room, but the determined earth pony shuffled in sideways and still ended up plugging the passageway with his belly, which puffed out a few feet too many to easily squeeze through the double doors. The three huddled closer to the wall, but the refrigerator's stubs only had a few inches to go.
"Come on, you louts, stop wasting our time!" He demanded with a british accent. His free arm waved around to grab at the cowering employees, but his fingers were only a foot of space too far.
"We're the ones wasting your time?"
But the pony's eyes widened as something pounded him on the other side, jutting him a bit of the way through. With the most seething extent of their muscles' stamina the three kept pushing, until the rubber stoppers finally slipped over the door's hinges, and in a flash the three leaped onto the door and arm wrestled to clasp the handle, pulling open the panel into the dark passageway.
It wasn't even a second after Horace pulled down the door and threw down the lock that a clamor of pounding on the door mixed with numerous vicious hollers sang from the other side, but thankfully the door didn't budge in the slightest.
"Alright..." Horace finally spoke. "...who the hell put the refridgerator on the storm cellar's door?"
"Well, we're gonna have to get there fast, 'cause look!" Ian pointed into the restaurant: over half of the windows were now gone, with dozens of meaty arms reaching through, grabbing whatever they could of the junk piled in their way and tossing them back outside.
Alissa pushed against the refrigerator. "It's under here! Help me out!"
Ian took Alissa's side and helped her push while Horace yanked on the other end, but the legs of the heavy appliance screeched along the floor only a few inches with each precious second. Outside the kitchen, a brown stallion in a trench coat managed to tumble over the window ledge and roll onto the linoleum floor, and with a huff he wobbled onto his feet, stomping towards the kitchen while sliding aside anything in his path.
"HURRY IT UP, GUYS!!!" Horace yelled.
"KEEP PULLING AND WE'LL GET THERE!!!" Alissa screamed back.
More ponies tumbled into the room, but the determined earth pony shuffled in sideways and still ended up plugging the passageway with his belly, which puffed out a few feet too many to easily squeeze through the double doors. The three huddled closer to the wall, but the refrigerator's stubs only had a few inches to go.
"Come on, you louts, stop wasting our time!" He demanded with a british accent. His free arm waved around to grab at the cowering employees, but his fingers were only a foot of space too far.
"We're the ones wasting your time?"
But the pony's eyes widened as something pounded him on the other side, jutting him a bit of the way through. With the most seething extent of their muscles' stamina the three kept pushing, until the rubber stoppers finally slipped over the door's hinges, and in a flash the three leaped onto the door and arm wrestled to clasp the handle, pulling open the panel into the dark passageway.
It wasn't even a second after Horace pulled down the door and threw down the lock that a clamor of pounding on the door mixed with numerous vicious hollers sang from the other side, but thankfully the door didn't budge in the slightest.
"Alright..." Horace finally spoke. "...who the hell put the refridgerator on the storm cellar's door?"
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April 19
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