Flim was feeling pleased with himself. He had made over ninety successful sales since he and his brother had set up a pet store in Canterlot a week ago, and now that Flam had set up another one in Colton, they were sure to be raking in some decent profits. As far as he could tell, no other pet shop could claim to provide quite the variety of animals that they could – cats, dogs, rabbits, ferrets, hamsters, mice, rats, bats, budgies, terrapins, turtles, tortoises, squirrels, teddy bears, lizards, iguanas, geckos, owls, eagles, falcons, rubber chickens, ravens, frogs, toads, newts...not to mention parrots, of which he had just sold one to a particularly haughty unicorn.
The only thing worrying him at that moment was that the same customer was now approaching the shop, with his very purchase held aloft in his magic and an irritated scowl on his face. Not wishing to get into an argument, Flim ducked behind the counter and tried to look busy.
“Hello, I wish to register a complaint.”
Flim rifled deftly through the cartons of animal feed, pretending not to hear.
“Hello, miss?”
That got Flim's attention. He stood up and stared at the customer, almost indignantly. “What do you mean, ‘miss’?” he inquired.
The stallion looked blankly at him for a moment. “Oh, I'm sorry, I have a cold,” he excused himself lamely. “I wish to enter a complaint.”
“Oh, er...sorry, buddy, we're closing for lunch,” said Flim hastily.
“Never mind that, my lad,” interjected the stallion, “I wish to complain about this parrot, whom I purchased not half an hour ago from this very establishment.” He held up the cage containing his new pet, which lay motionless at the bottom.
“Oh, yes, the Høyland Blue – what's wrong with it?” Truth be told, Flim already had an inkling what was wrong, but didn't wish to admit it.
“I'll tell you what's wrong with it, my lad,” replied the stallion bluntly. “It's dead, that's what's wrong with it.”
“Nah, nah, it's resting,” objected Flim, not even bothering to look at the parrot in question.
“Resting?!” spluttered the stallion incredulously.
“Yeah, resting. Remarkable bird, the Høyland Blue,” added Flim, “beautiful plumage.”
But the stallion clearly wasn't buying it. “Look, my lad, the plumage has nothing to do with it,” he retorted. “I know a dead parrot when I see one, and I'm looking at one right now.”
“Nah, I promise you, it's resting. Cross my heart and hope to fly!”
“Alright then,” declared the stallion, “if it's resting, I'll wake it up.” Lifting up the cage so that he and the parrot were face to face, he shouted at the top of his voice; “HELLO, POLLY! I'VE GOT A NICE CUP OF SUNFLOWER SEEDS FOR YOU WHEN YOU WAKE UP, POLLY PARROT!”
The cage suddenly swayed to one side, prompting him to shoot a dirty look at Flim. “There, it moved!” he lied, even as his glowing horn gave away his ploy.
“No it didn't, that was you pushing the cage!” chided the stallion.
“I did not!”
“Yes you did!” Not willing to let Flim play the fool with him a second time, the stallion withdrew the parrot from its cage and shouted into its ear. “HELLO, POLLY! P-O-L-L-Y!!!!” Getting no response, he thumped the parrot against the counter. “RISE AND SHINE, POLLY PARROT!” Another round of thumping. “THIS IS YOUR NINE O'CLOCK ALARM CALL!!” He thumped the bird again, firstly on the counter, then on both his front legs, and finally on his back before shaking it vigorously and tossing it in the air. Again, the parrot didn't react, dropping onto the floor like a stone. He turned and looked daggers at the sleazy yellow unicorn. “Now that's what I call a dead parrot.”
“Nah,” objected Flim, “it's not dead, it's stunned.”
“Stunned?!” Again, the stallion gave him a look of sheer disbelief.
“You stunned it just as it was waking up,” continued Flim. “The Høyland Blue stuns pretty easily. Gotta be careful how...”
“Look, I've had just about enough of this,” interrupted the stallion, his patience wearing thin. “That bird is definitely deceased – and when I bought it earlier, you assured me that its total lack of movement was due to it being tired and out of breath following an extended squawk.”
Flim paused for a moment. He didn't feel like giving this disgruntled stallion a refund just because some parrot had decided to die on him before he had even sold it, but he was running out of excuses. “Well, it's...it's probably pining for the glaciers,” he stammered, trying hard to sound innocent.
If he thought the stallion couldn't look any more incredulous, he was promptly proven wrong. “Pining for the glaciers?!? What kind of rubbish is that?!” he exclaimed indignantly. “Look, why did it fall flat on its back the moment I brought it home?!”
“Well, the Høyland Blue prefers kipping on its back. Bit unusual, I know,” Flim rambled on, “but it's unusual to find a parrot that enjoys the cold as much as this one does, so what's new? And hey, it's worth it for...”
“Worth it for what? Tiger food?!” snapped the customer. “I took the liberty of examining that parrot, and not only was it stone dead – the only reason it was sitting on its perch in the first place was because it had been nailed there.”
Thank goodness it was a cool day, thought Flim, otherwise he would be sweating profusely by now. “Well, of course it was nailed there,” he tried to defend himself. “If it hadn't been, it would've muscled up to those bars, prised them open with its beak – really strong beak at that – and ZOOM! The bird would've flown,” and he smirked at his own joke.
But the stallion wasn't amused. “Look, mister,” he stated hotly, “this bird wouldn't fly if I put a million volts through it and cast a revival charm on its cadaver! It's bleeding demised!”
“No it's not, it's pining!” insisted Flim.
“It's not pining, it's passed on!” The stallion lost his temper at this point, going into a lengthy rant there and then without letting Flim get a word in edgeways. “This parrot is no more! It has breathed its last and ceased to be! Its metabolic processes are of interest only to taxidermists and historians! It's expired and gone to meet its maker in the great birdcage in the sky! It's a stiff – a late parrot, bereft of life! It rests in peace, extinct in its entirety! If you hadn't nailed it to the perch, it would be lying six hooves underground pushing up the daisies! It's hopped off the twig, kicked the bucket, shuffled off its mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible!” Reaching out with his magic, he picked up the little blue corpse and settled it down in front of Flim. “THIS – IS AN EX-PARROT!!!!”
Flim fought back a defeated sigh. He could see there was no getting around this stallion. “Well, I...I'd better replace it then,” he said lamely, and sidled off to the storeroom.
The stallion rolled his eyes impatiently. “If you want to get anything done here in Canterlot,” he grumbled to the world in general, “you've got to complain till you've no breath left.” He gazed back towards the doorway, only to be further frustrated as Flim came straight out again. How long had he been in there? Five seconds?
“Sorry, pal,” he said, “I've had a look round the back; we're fresh out of parrots.”
“I see, I see,” replied the stallion, visibly hacked off, “I get the picture. So not only do you sell me a dead parrot, you refuse to find me a replacement!”
“I've got a slug,” offered Flim in a more hopeful tone.
“Does it talk?”
“Well...not really, no.” Again, Flim looked defeated.
“Well, it's scarcely a replacement then, is it?!”
“Well, look, I tell you what,” suggested Flim, “if you go over to my brother's shop in Colton, he'll replace your parrot for you.”
Only now did the faintest hint of satisfaction begin to register on the other pony's face. “Now that's more like it. Where can I find this other boutique?” he inquired.
“Well, if you go down the road beyond the station, turn left at the first...”
WE INTERRUPT THIS FANFICTION TO ANNOY YOU AND MAKE THINGS GENERALLY IRRITATING FOR YOU
...with a glowing neon sign above it that read “Similar Pet Shop”. Shaking off the confusion at the unimaginative title, the stallion trotted briskly into the shop – only to perform a double-take as he realised that it was almost identical to the one he had just been to in Canterlot. Even the birdcage in front of the counter looked the same as the one he had left behind, while the only thing setting the pony on the other side of the counter apart from his brother was a moustache. It was almost as if he had walked off a film set and straight back again without realising it.
Flam looked on with an innocent expression as the bewildered stallion picked up the cage and examined it carefully. Yes, it was the same in every single detail, right down to the holes in the perch left by the nails. “Uh...excuse me, this is Colton, am I right?” he asked tentatively.
“No, no, it's Baltimare,” replied Flam, fighting back the sly smirk he could feel tugging at the corners of his lips.
The stallion shook his head wearily; “That's rail travel for you,” he muttered, and strode crossly out of the shop as another stallion, a Pegasus this time, entered.
“Good morning,” said the Pegasus, “I would like to buy a cat.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Flam with an ingratiating smile. “I've got a lovely little terrier,” and he pointed to a box on the counter.
“No thanks, I'd rather have a cat if you don't mind.”
“Fine, fine,” murmured Flam. He picked up the box, but no sooner had he brought it down behind the counter than he placed it on top again. “Here you go, sir – how about that?”
The stallion gave him a deadpan look. “That's the terrier you just offered me.”
“Well, it's as near as makes no difference.”
“What do you mean? I was after a cat, not a dog.”
“I tell you what – I'll file its legs down a bit...”
WE INTERRUPT THIS FANFICTION AGAIN, A) TO IRRITATE YOU, AND B) TO POINT OUT THAT THE EQUESTRIAN ANIMAL WELFARE ORGANISATION HAS BANNED ANY AND ALL DISPLAYS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY IN THIS STORY. THEREFORE WE SHALL BE TAKING YOU STRAIGHT TO COLTON STATION
While all this was going on, the unicorn stallion was just entering the Customer Service Desk at Colton Trinity Street Station. If he had taken the time to actually read the station signs, he might not have been so hasty as to immediately walk up to the desk and say, “I wish to complain.”
“I don't have to do this, you know,” grumbled the Earth stallion behind the desk.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I'm a qualified brain surgeon! I only took this job because I like being my own boss,” continued the Earth pony huffily.
The unicorn gave him an odd look. “I...I'm sorry, but isn't this irrelevant?”
“Yeah, well...” The Earth pony shrugged, dropping his disgruntled facade. “...it's not easy to pad these out to six Word Document pages. And it's not irrelevant anyway – it's a hippopotamus.”
“Yes, quite,” muttered the unicorn, unamused. “Anyway, I wish to register a complaint.”
“Hadn't you done that already with the pet shop?”
“This is different, my good sir. I got on the Colton train, and was deposited here in Baltimare – whether by poor labelling of the trains or a mistake on the part of the conductor, I know not, but...”
The Earth pony stared at him as if he were a complete idiot. “What the hay are you talking about?! This is Colton!” he spluttered.
“It's what?!?”
“Yeah, look out there!” The Earth pony pointed outside; and sure enough, the sign clearly read “COLTON TRINITY PARK”.
A look of barely suppressed anger crossed the unicorn's face as he realised... “The pet shop owner's brother was lying to me!” he seethed.
“Well, you can't blame Equestrian National Railways for that,” stated the Earth pony firmly.
“In that case, I shall return to the shop forthwith and give that stallion a piece of my mind!” Not bothering to apologise for his misdemeanour, the unicorn stormed out of the station and back to the shop. It only took a few minutes, but it might as well have been an hour or so because of the time-skip that most stories require. “I understand this is Colton!” he said to Flam accusingly.
“Uh...yes?” Blast it, thought Flam, he's cottoned on already!
“But you told me it was Baltimare!”
Flam fell silent for a few seconds, trying to come up with a suitable explanation. “It was a pun,” he said at last.
“A pun?” repeated the stallion disbelievingly.
“Uh...no, not that,” stuttered Flam, “it was a, er...what the word for something that reads the same backwards as forwards?”
“What, a palindrome?”
“Yes, that!”
“It's not a palindrome!” protested the stallion. “The palindrome of Colton would be ‘Notloc’!”
“Look, what do you want?” Flam fought back a groan of defeat. He could see he wasn't going to be able to weasel his way out of this one, and had all but resigned himself to his fate.
“Well, look, I'm sorry – I'm not prepared to pursue my line of inquiry any further! I come in here to request a replacement for this stiff, and all you can...”
“Who are you calling a stiff?”
The stallion jumped as the “dead” parrot suddenly came to life.
“And why did you thump me against the counter at the last place? That hurt!”
“But...you were dead! You'd snuffed it! You'd given up the ghost and left the waking world behind! You'd...”
Finally satisfied that he had no further complaint to deal with, Flam winked broadly at nopony in particular. “Just as Flim said,” he chortled, “the Høyland Blue is a remarkable bird. It can play dead, and you wouldn't know it was ever alive to begin with!”