//------------------------------// // Chapter Seven: Bonita At The Boutique // Story: Llamas: A Drama // by SkelePone //------------------------------// LLAMAS a drama CHAPTER SEVEN: BONITA AT THE BOUTIQUE by SkelePone “Bonita, darling, do watch out. That wedding dress simply cannot get dirty at this hour. The bride’s bound to pick it up by the end of the day.” Bonita rolled her eyes at Rarity’s scolding. “Yes, Miss Rarity.” “Bonita, darling, there’s no need to call me ‘Miss’.” “Yes, Miss Rarity.” Bonita was entirely disinterested. She wanted nothing to do with the white unicorn mare. Rarity claimed that she needed some semi-professional assistance with the Carousel Boutique. But Bonita knew better. All Rarity wanted was a swatch of Bonita’s cotton-candy coat of wool. The pink llama was observant enough to notice the hungry look that Rarity gave her whenever she thought Bonita wasn’t paying attention. And Bonita didn’t like it one bit. The llama wouldn’t mind if the pony just asked for some of her wool. She was due for a shearing anyways. But the pony wouldn’t ask, she’d just stare. It was at this moment when Bonita felt sudden anger towards Poncho. The herd’s appointed leader was selected by Abuelo Urcu himself. But Bonita felt that Poncho was the least qualified of them all to lead them. Especially now, when he was forcing her employment to the Carousel Boutique. Poncho had even suggested she befriend some of their customers. He had suggested that she get to know Rarity better. Which was far from what she wanted. Bonita began to consider who would make a better leader. Bronco was her first immediate thought. He was strong, humble, and even a bit handsome. Everything that Poncho wasn’t. He was perfect. But then again… the llama was big and bulky, but he seemed a bit… shy. Unless their lives were in danger, Bronco rarely said a word to any of them. Even if they were in same herd. So maybe another llama. Bonita began to rearrange the bouquets in the shop window as she hummed some random song to herself. Maybe Mama was more qualified. She was experienced in leading, after all. But Mama was frail. Weak. Bonita honestly doubted that the elderly dam would make it past a year. Cha Cha and Macarena were out of the question. Bonita was friends with them, sure. But their heads were practically empty. They knew almost nothing besides how to dance. And even then, they couldn’t sing or make music of their own. Besides their talent with dancing, they were pretty much useless. Bonita wondered what Poncho had forced them to do for work. Bonita smiled to herself as she imagined the twins dancing away in a construction site, wearing hard hats. “What are you smiling at?” Rarity called from over at the cash register. Bonita’s smile melted off her face as she struggled to contain a groan. “Nothing, Miss Rarity.” “Please, darling, really,” Bonita could see the unicorn pouting from behind the sales counter, “you can just call me ‘Rarity’.” Bonita turned away from Rarity, not answering. She recommenced her imagining of various members of the herd playing leader. Rico couldn’t be leader. He was only a cria, and a cripple at that. Nothing wrong with cripples, however. It’s just that Rico was quite possibly the weakest of them all. Pepe Fouchan definitely could not be the leader. That green llama male was insane. Always spouting a wide assortment of nonsense from who knows where. Pepe was one weird llama. Vicuña? The shaman appeared to be wise, like Abuelo Urcu. And equally mysterious. But it was taboo to make a shaman a herd leader. Ever since some long ago tragedy that Bonita couldn’t recall and didn’t care enough to, shamans remained as advisors to the herd leader, instead of as leaders themselves. “Bonita, darling, could you stand by the register? I’m going off to lunch.” “Yes, Miss Rarity.” Bonita followed Rarity’s orders and stood patiently by the counter as the unicorn flitted out of the store. Before she disappeared from view, Bonita saw Rarity make a sad glance through the window towards Bonita. Maybe the mare was finally realizing that Bonita wasn’t interested in selling the greedy white mare any of her wool. Bonita was lost in her la la land when the front door let out a jingle as it swung open. Bonita shook her boredom from her mind and plastered the biggest fake smile she could muster onto her face. “Well to Carousel Boutique! I’m Bonita, and I can help if you ever need anything!” Bonita called to the red-maned mare who had walked in. The Earth pony mare was followed immediately by another Earth pony, a stallion. “Thank you. My, does Rarity have a new employee? I didn’t even know she was hiring.” The mare said to Bonita. The llama shrugged in disinterest. She really didn’t want to have a conversation right now. The mare’s coltfriend (or what Bonita assumed was her coltfriend) stood near the doorway gaping at Bonita. “Cor blimey, Rose. What the hay is that?” “PORTER!” The mare, Rose, shouted. She smiled apologetically at Bonita. The llama wasn’t really all that offended. This same scene had already happened about a dozen times in the last few days. “I’m so sorry, miss.” Rose apologized with a smile, “My-” she kicked at the stallion with one of her hind hooves as she sounded out each word, “coltfriend-” ah, Bonita loved to be right “here doesn’t have any manners.” “Ow.” Porter complained, rubbing his leg where Rose had kicked him. Bonita had a feeling that Rose hadn’t really hurt him, and that the stallion was just pretending to be hurt to please his marefriend. Bonita really had no idea what was going through ponies’ oddly-shaped heads. The llama watched with extreme boredom as the couple made their way around the boutique. Rarity had told her to stay by the cash register. Not help the customers. Which was fine by her. Bonita felt her eyes drift to the ponies’ flanks. Not in a sexual way, but more out of curiosity. She admired the odd symbols on them. These ‘cutie marks’ as they called them. From what Poncho and Princess Twilight had explained, those cutie marks were a way of telling what a pony’s occupation was. Or what their destiny was to be. So apparently the mare had a job that had to do with roses and the stallion had something to do with a mug of some brownish liquid. It made sense with the mare. Her name was Rose. Her flank had a rose on it. Her hair was red, like a rose. It all seemed to fit. Weird. The stallion was harder to understand. Bonita had no idea what his cutie mark was supposed to be. His black, short-cut mane didn’t really have anything at all in common with his cutie mark. Neither did the color of his coat, a light tan-yellowish color. Bonita found herself thinking about pony coats now. Pony coats were weird. Not soft and downy like her own wool. No two llamas had the same wool texture, color, and growth rate. Not even the twins, who had different colors on their coats. But pony coats only varied in color. They all had the same texture and length. It was so odd being in a place where every llama… or everypony, that is was so alike. And yet different at the same time. Bonita now found herself wishing she was a pony. It’d be more preferable to standing around all bored and harassed by white mares. Bonita was shook once more out of the depths of her mind when the couple came to the counter, plopping down several dresses and a tweed cabbie cap. Bonita checked the price tags and lazily counted up the numbers. “That’ll be one hundred seventy-two bits.” The mare hoofed over a large heavy, jingling sack of money. They remained at the counter. Bonita felt a tad bit irritated. “Can I help you?” She finally asked. The mare opened her mouth, but her coltfriend asked his question first. “What tha’ bloody Tartarus are you?” “I’m a llama,” Bonita answered grouchily, “anything else?” Rose gulped and she shot a dirty look at Porter. Porter smiled sheepishly but grabbed the cabbie hat shoving it over his mane. Bonita just looked at them with half-amusement, half-irritation. Didn’t they have anything better to do? “Well,” Rose said, “we’re guessing that you’re new to the neighborhood…” She trailed off, as if asking Bonita a question. Bonita shrugged. “And I figured we’d welcome you to the neighborhood. Do you plan on having an open house anytime soon? Carnegie here can provide the beverages. Right, honey?” “Uhh…” The stallion looked confused for a moment, still ogling at her, “Yeah. Sure. Definitely.” Rose rolled her eyes. Bonita could honestly care less about either of them. But she did wonder if the stallion’s name was Porter or if it was Carnegie. Or maybe it was both. Porter Carnegie? Carnegie Porter? “I dunno,” Bonita grumbled, “I’ll have to ask Poncho.” “Oh!” Rose bubbled, “Is he your husband?” Bonita snorted and almost burst laughing. “Huh. Yeah right. In his dreams. He’s just the leader of my herd. And he’s the one who owns the house and tells every llama what to do.” Bonita informed Rose bitterly. The mare looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding. “Well… if you do have an open house of some kind, be sure to invite us! That’s Miss Roseluck and Mister Carnegie Porter. And you are…?” “Bonita.” “Bonita! Wonderful! How do you like working for Rarity?” “Honestly, she’s a greedy prick.” Rose looked scandalous. “Rarity?! Greedy?!? She’s the Element of Generosity! Well, who would have known?” Bonita felt her ears droop. Element of Generosity? Oh… Rose, meanwhile, had laughed and shook her head in amazement. Then, she and Porter began to make their way from the counter towards the exit. “Well, see you around!” The mare called as she trotted out the door. Her bumbling coltfriend followed close behind, carrying her dresses. Or what Bonita hoped was Rose’s dresses. She wondered if anypony in Ponyville was into cross-dressing. It’d be pretty funny if they were. Then she realized, with horror, that she had inadvertently become acquainted with a pony couple.