Thirty Minute Pony Stories

Air streamed passed the patient’s hair and hospital gown. Doctors and nurses howled at the security guards. Some of the nurses chased after her but could not keep up. The patient did not look back; the dwindling sounds of the doctors crying for help was all the assurance she needed.

The patient forced her way through the crowded hallway of busy nurses and students performing their nightly rounds. She charged at ponies holding clipboards in hopes of sending the papers bound by the clipboards skyward and falling down in a slow descent of brightly colored forms. The ponies in her way were caught by surprise. The ponies behind her cursed and chased after her.

The patient had to trust her talent in order to survive. She had to rely on confusing tactics, as she always had. She threw screwballs at the doctors and security guards by darting down a flight of stairs, rushing through the eastern wing, climbing up the stairs again, and then running down the stairs on the north wing. She hoped that some of the pursuing ponies would stand guard at every exit she passed.

She ran through the first floor. The most dangerous floor. If her nightly study of the hospital maps she collected were true, then she would have to run through the Operation and Immediate Care corridor. While the patient did not have to worry about the burly security guards that patrolled the higher floors, the corridors were always populated by nurses and doctors.

The patient considered running back to the second floor and exiting from the southern wing, but she heard echoes of guards ordering a team to stand by all the exits upstairs. 

The patient growled in frustration. She slammed the door leading to the stairs and ran down the Operation and Immediate Care corridor.

The nurses and doctors inside the hallway called for guards, just like the ponies upstairs. She knew that there were no guards in this corridor, but that did not stop the ponies from blocking her path to freedom.

Ponies lined up and formed a line. Some raised up their clipboards and steeled their hooves,  as if they had formed a battalion to defend the doors leading to a castle’s throne room.

The patient ran faster. She slammed her hooves at the floor and leaped above the ponies. Her hair brushed against the ceiling of the corridor as her hospital gown flapped freely against the air.

A quick strike of thick cardstock slapped the patient’s hind legs. She instinctively curled inwardly to dull the pain, causing her to maladroitly crash to the floor. The nurses and doctors tried to surround her, but she skittered towards the glass door in her vision.

From the other side of the glass door, guards lined up and prepared another wall of ponies. She looked to her left. Guards. To her right. Guards.

The patient stood still as the group of ponies closed in on her. She lowered her posture, as if to charge at anypony who had gotten too close to her. She growled fearfully as her eyes widened.

She felt a breeze of cold air brush past her face. She looked at the glass doors anxiously. She stared blankly at the doors, hoping that she could feel the blast of cool air against her face.

But the ponies around her denied her freedom. Even a moment’s reprieve outside this white-walled prison was cause for all of the guards and doctors to gather and trap the patient.

She glanced at her flank. She knew that she had to invent another screwball plan if she wanted to escape.

Obselescence ses: Noooo! Freedom so close, and yet so far! D:

Poor Screwball. Perhaps it’s for the best that she doesn’t escape. It could be disastrous if a pony as clever and screwball as she is were set loose on Equestria.