Tight Fit, the Plumber Pony

>"Tight Fit was a plumber pony who always got called to do the dirtiest, cloggiest, hardest to reach jobs of them all."
>"One day, he got called to a particular house in the neighborhood.  One that was haunted by.....~teenage giiiirls!~"
>"And as such, all their drains were clogged.  Again.  It was the third time that year so far!"
>Tight Fit wasn't having any luck with the snake this time.  No matter how much hair and muck and lost earrings he pulled out,
>there was always more.  He finally threw up his hooves and said 'I'm going to have to go underneath the house!'
>"Now, in this town they didn't have basements like you do here in Ponyville.  Instead, there was a tiny crawlspace between the >ground floor, and the ground itself.  A pony could barely fit inside.  And in this particular crawlspace, even Tight Fit was >having trouble moving through it to reach the pipes he needed to remove and replace.  As he was shimmy-ing through towards his >destination, flashlight in mouth and tools on his belt, he could swear he felt something keep tickling the frog of his back left
>hoof.  He tried to quickly turn his head and catch a glimpse of whatever it was in the dark, but the space was too tight.  He >couldn't turn his head far enough to look back.  It was no big deal either way to, Tight Fit.  He'd been through this before.
>'Don't think about it.' He thought to himself.  'Just get the work done and get out.'
>He turned back to face his original direction, but the pipes were no longer visible there.  He must have turned more than he thought?...
>He looked further towards the right to see where the pipes were.  Not there, either?  Could he have gotten completely turned around?  'No....that's not possible.  The crawlspace is too cramped for it...' he thought to himself.
>Tight Fit kept looking about, thinking on what could be happening.
>'Wait.
>Where was the exit?  The way I came in?' he said, aloud.
>A loud groan of floorboards and support beams above his head startled him.
>Starting to panic, he looked around for the exit, and sunlight beyond.
>He twisted and turned, and even managed to get himself turned 180 degrees from his starting position.  Tight Fit's were his >special talent, after all!
>But there was no exit.  No matter how far his flashlight shone, he could not see it.  He couldn't, for that matter, even find a wall.
>This was just silly.  The house hadn't been *that* large, had it?
>'Well, whatever' he thought, 'If I just keep heading in one direction, following a support beam, I have to reach the wall.  Then I can follow it to the exit.  Simple.'
>The floorboards above him groaned again, this time with hoofsteps, and muffled giggles and shouting.
>'Wait, I'll just get their attention!  They can tell me where I'm at under the house and give directions!'

>Tight Fit carefully flipped himself over and banged loudly on the floorboards.
>'Hey!' he yelled. 'Can you girls hear me up there!?'
...
>Tight Fit waited a bit, then tried again, louder this time.
>'CAN ANYPONY HEAR ME? I GOT A LITTLE TURNED AROUND DOWN HERE! CAN YOU TELL ME WHICH ROOM THIS IS?'
...
>But nopony answered Tight Fit.  He had stopped hearing hoofsteps as well, so gave up and resumed trying to find an outer wall.

"But you know what happened, girls?"

"Wh-wh-what happened to him, Anon?" asked Sweetie Belle.

>"He followed the support beam.  The same one.  He knew it was the same one.  He had never deviated.  And it wouldn't have mattered anyway.
>They all lead to the same place?  The wall!  The wall that had to exist to hold up those beams!  But he never found the wall.
>He never found anything.  Not the pipes he went in that god forsaken place for, not the exit, not even the wall.
>just and endless expanse of nothing but....crawlspace.

>He tried many times to bang on the floor above him, to get anypony's attention.  Heck, he tried to bust through the floor with
>his tools or hooves many times.  But it never worked.  He just couldn't get enough leverage.  Or he didn't have the right tool.
>Eventually tools started to go missing.  Maybe he misplaced them?  No, he would never do that!  Would he?

>And then he remembered.  Something had brushed passed him on his way in.  Maybe something was in here with him?  Maybe IT took his tools!
>Tight Fit didn't know what that thing had been, though.  Or if it was all in his head.  He couldn't be sure of anything anymore.
>Just the crawlspace.  Endless crawlspace.

>Tight Fit couldn't remember how long he'd been down there.  Unable to stand up.  Unable to stretch properly.  It felt like days now.  He was starving.  He was so thirsty.
>But no matter what he did, he couldn't find a way out.  And what was the floor made of!  Ironwood!?
>He kicked at the floor some more.
>He didn't try digging anymore.  The dirt was relatively soft, yes.  But digging in the past, had.......well, he couldn't quite
>remember what, but it scared him when he thought about trying to dig his way out.

>So he just kept kicking at the floor.  His voice had left him at this point.  He was too thirsty and parched to shout anymore.
>So he just kept kicking.  Surely that would save him?  Somepony would hear it and help?

"Right, Girls?"

Suddenly the floorboards in front of you explode outwards from where you knew there was a trapdoor underneath the rug.

The CMC scream and start running for their lives, hiding in another room.

"Thanks for the help.  They really shouldn't have said my storytelling sucked."

"athg'bthnk"

"Shut up."

And with that, you kick the trapdoor shut again, amidst protests and laughter.  She can just come up the stairs like a normal mare, then.