I approach the house, the neglected front porch greets me. Paint layers peeling off, windows look like they haven’t been cleaned in 9 years. One of the front steps is broken. I carefully make my way up to the front door. As I am about to knock on the door I notice the mailbox. A small spider has made it's home inside, along with numerous abandoned letters. I knock on the door. A few moments later a coarse voice beyond the door yells in slurred speech “ Come in it's open.”.

I nervously crack open the door. The smell of old tobacco, whiskey and mildew fill my nose. Inside I see piles of old tv dinners and beer cans scattered around. Cobwebs and small bugs dot the ceiling and walls. As I creep down the hallway a mouse scampers by. I continue walking each step accompanied by the creak of a floorboard until I find a room to my left.

Inside the room I see him. A husk of his former self. There sitting, slouched over in an armchair. A crystal glass is in his hand containing a brown clear liquid, most probably whiskey. He's wearing a stained wife beater and plaid pajama bottoms.

A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes begin to turn glossy. I try my best to hold back any tears. “Oh, my god... Look at you.” my voice trembles. “Oh leave me alone.” the man retorts, speech slightly slurred. “ You used to be someone,” I say. “Those days are long over, “ he replies, then takes a sip of his drink. “ The townsfolk need you! The city isn’t the same without you.” I reply, my voice has a slight tremble, as I hold back tears. The man takes another sip of his drink, then puts his drink down on the table next to him. “ They don’t need me anymore, I’m washed up, they have a better superhero anyways.” He appears very tense, god knows what demons he’s fighting on the inside.

I open my leather satchel and rummage around it until I find a jar of mayo. I pull out the jar and hold it in front of him. “ I need you Ponyman, I need you,” I answer. Tears begin to run down my face, my lips quiver and my nose turns a rosy hue. Ponyman’ s expression begins to change. His scorn begins to change to a slight smile. Tears begin to well in his eyes. He stands up from his chair. “ Alright Mrs. Jenkins, get me some hot water, pliers, and a crowbar.”  His voice has a new feeling of confidence as he speaks. “ At the speed of a pony sir.”

PONY MAN WILL RETURN NEW STORIES EVERY WEEK