Chapter 16 - Spilled Milk
The last time I had performed on a stage was back in second grade, I believe. Everyone in Ms. Rutherford’s class had to take part in some educational play about the food pyramid, which featured cheap costumes, props, and scenery almost as good as the acting talent.
Production quality aside, the important part was that everyone was highly encouraged to participate, me included. Now, this was my first time in any sort of acting role, so I didn’t know what to expect. We went over a few lessons about the food pyramid and all that. Then, the teacher gave us parts and lines, and later where to go on stage and when to recite them. I went along with it; it didn’t seem so bad.
When I realized we were going to do this in front of a crowd of people, I began to get nervous. I made sure to repeat my lines over and over again at home so I wouldn’t forget them. I didn’t want to mess them up.
The night of the performance, I was terrified. Ms. Rutherford kept telling us to smile and had a very positive attitude about the whole thing. I ignored what she was saying, instead focused on getting out there and getting it over with.
We all shuffled out onto the stage. I followed behind the apple, and I looked out over the crowd as I walked. The stage lights in front of us made it difficult to see the audience, but I could see them. I became fixated on the crowd, looking amongst each darkened pair of eyes.
This was different than standing up in front of the class. These weren’t fellow students—these were parents, two of them mine. They had expectations. I felt every pair of eyes on me and my shabby, cardboard milk carton costume. I had wished that they hadn’t cut a hole out for my face. The light was on us, and only us, and I felt all sorts of pressure. Mainly, pressure to not screw up.
I repeated my lines in my head. The dairy food group includes milk, yogurt, and cheese. You should have three cups of dairy a day. The dairy food group includes milk, yogurt, and—
Then I tripped.
The kid next to me in the cheese costume helped me stand back up. To their credit, the parents did their best not to laugh. However, a few snickers escaped, and that was all the excuse I needed.
As soon as I got up, I rushed off the stage. I stopped before the door to the hallway and cried quietly. Ms. Rutherford said some encouraging words, but I didn’t want to go back out there after that. I was utterly embarrassed.
Throughout all of the next year, I was teased for being the kid who cried over spilled milk. …I know. It was too good of a joke for them to pass up.
As much as I could, I avoided any sort of stage performance, or even public speaking. It was very difficult to do. Needless to say, I wasn’t too excited to do it again. But, I had no choice now, it seemed. We needed food, and for that we needed money. This seemed to be the easiest solution, at least for three of us.
Lucid and I arrived backstage. Well, “backstage” was more of a roped-off area than an actual part of a stage. It was rectangular, bordered by twine hanging on the tops of thin posts. The curtain itself probably cost more than all of the money spent on this show combined, even including the prize money.
Lucid and I found an empty space among the other contestants. Half of the contestants were warming up; two were juggling, one was doing vocal exercises, and another was taking deep breaths in a brown paper bag. The other half were cooling down and waiting for the results of the show to be announced.
Now that we were backstage, it was more real than ever to me that we were going to do this. My heart kept jumping up into my throat, and I had to swallow to push it back down.
“Okay, so,” I began. “What’s our plan?”
“Half a minute.” Lucid opened the flap of his bag with his magic and floated out a scroll, a feather, and one of those ink containers from the 1800s. I had seen a couple of pencils in this world, so maybe the quill thing was traditional or something. He dipped the quill in the ink. “Ever been on a stage before?”
“Yes,” I said. I felt like starting out with a joke to make me feel better. “A couple of days ago. I was booed off, though.”
He didn’t laugh. “Er, yes. The wedding. Right.” His eyes narrowed as he looked me over and rubbed his chin. “But have you ever performed for an audience before? Danced, read poetry, anything?”
“The last time was over fifteen years ago,” I said.
“How old were you then?”
“Number eleven, you’re up!” called a pony with a headset on. I assumed she was some sort of stage manager.
Four contestants to go. I tried to forget about that and continued talking to Lucid. “Seven, just about.”
“Ah, okay then,” he said, still rubbing his chin. “So no recent experience at all.”
“Right.”
“And I have no acting experience to share with you, so… Hm. This is going to be tricky.” His eyebrows furrowed. “With your skill level, simply repeating what I tell you will be awkward. Half of comedy is delivery, so they say. I’ll have to get creative.”
He sat down and squinted as he scratched the quill across the scroll in front of him. By the sounds of the scratches, it seemed he was drawing lines in addition to words. I waited for him to talk to me or give me some sort of instruction, but he didn’t. I walked around him so I could look over his shoulder and watch, but he turned the backside of the scroll to me.
“Ah ah ah,” he said. He pushed his glasses up. “I need to focus.”
“But…” I wouldn’t bother you, I’d just be looking over your shoulder. I didn’t argue aloud, though. If the guy needed to focus, then by all means, I’d let him. My life was in his hooves.
I walked a short ways from him and sat down. My jaw started to shiver a little as a result of my nerves. Take it easy, I told myself. Lucid knows what he’s doing. He’s a professor who specializes in trans-dimensional travel. Comedy is second nature to him.
My jaw shivered a little harder.
Lucid levitated out three more scrolls beside the first one, forming an aura-emitting rectangle. The arrangement fully blocking his head, he scribbled furiously. I walked up to it and peeked around the side of it. “One just wasn’t enough, huh?” I let out a worried laugh.
“No,” he muttered, his eyes watching the quill dart around the paper. The scrolls moved in front of my face. “I normally have more space to work with. Less distractions, too.”
I teetered back and forth on my feet. “Any luck so far?”
“Still thinking,” he said. He let out a sigh. “Give me time. Maybe a minute or two.”
“Sure, sure.” I backed away to give him (and me) a little space.
“Number twelve, let’s go!” the manager called.
I quickened my pace and accidentally ran into somepony. I turned around and apologized.
The two ponies I had bumped into were complete opposites, judging by their colour schemes. Where one pony had white, the other had green, and vice versa. Both of them had the same eye colour, though: mint green. Their short, decorative dresses also matched. Each of them spoke excitedly, either from nerves or abnormal joy in meeting someone new.
“Hi!” the mostly white one said. “I’m Gale.”
The mostly green one smiled. “And I’m Kale. Nice to meet ya.” They both offered their hooves and gladly shook my own at the same time. “We’re siblings,” Kale said.
“Twins, actually.”
“Fraternal twins. I’m the prettier one.” Kale fluttered her eyelashes at me.
“She’s got a mole.” Gale pointed to her sister’s face. “Riiight there.”
“Beauty mark! You’re just jealous.” She tipped her nose up in indignation. Kale took the opportunity to press her nose with an accompanying “boop”, and they shared a laugh.
Even though these two were annoying, I had to bite. I was curious about what these two did on stage. “So, what’s your act?”
Kale beamed. “We’re cloppers!”
“We clop,” Gale repeated. “It’s a long-running family tradition.”
“We do it without shoes, too!” Kale lifted her hoof to prove it.
“It’s a stepdance from Sireland. Not many ponies have heard of it.”
“We’re Sirish and proud! Well, we weren’t born there ourselves, but half of our great-great-great-grandparents were.”
Gale raised an eyebrow. “I thought it was two-thirds.”
“Pretty sure it’s half.”
Okay, I had lost interest. I stepped back, indicating I was ready to leave. “Look, ladies, I have to go.”
“It’s closer to five-eighths, really,” Gale said to her sister. “We’re counting Shires McFilligan, yes?”
“Yes, but not her grandfathers. If anything, it’s closer to five-elevenths.”
I turned and walked away as they continued to argue. Part of me was glad that the wheat sisters weren’t anything like that. In fact, they didn’t speak to each other very much at all. Not in trivial conversations, at least.
“Number thirteen? Number thirteen!” Oh, right.
I returned to Lucid. I wasn’t sure if it had been two minutes or not, but I asked him anyway. “Got something?”
“Almost,” he said.
I began to pace, unable to sit still. Two contestants to go, and he still wasn’t ready. That audience was going to eat me alive. A dull ache developed in my right arm. “Anything?”
“Almost,” he repeated, nearly through his teeth.
The jitters in my jaw were more pronounced now. I turned on a dime and approached him. “Can I at least see what you have so far? Something?”
He rubbed his temple with his wrist. “Copper, here’s the thing. I think it’s best if I don’t tell you what I’m going to say.”
Uh, that was moving in the wrong direction. “What are you talking about?”
“With what little time we have, I’m thinking I shouldn’t tell you,” he said. “That way, I’ll be getting your gut response.”
In other words, improvising. Contestant number fourteen was called. Where was that paper bag… “No no, we need a plan. I can’t go on stage unprepared.”
“That’s the point,” Lucid insisted, his eyebrows creasing. “Just react naturally.”
That entailed running off, so if he really wanted that… “Lucid, tell me what you’re going to say, or I won’t do it.”
“Listen,” he said, taking off his glasses. “I’ve got a plan, and that plan involves you not knowing about it. I want us to win. I’m on your side, here.” He pressed a hoof on my shoulder, pushing as he emphasized words. “Go up on stage, repeat what I tell you to, and react however you react. I’ll keep up with you.”
My teeth were sore from clattering against each other. “No, I’m not doing it. This is… there’s gotta be something else.”
“Really, it’s not that hard, Copper.” Lucid held out a hoof in despair. “I’ve done all the work for you already!”
“But… ugh.” I gave up. He had at least told me something less vague. Repeat what he says and react however I react. At the very least, it gave me an excuse if things didn’t turn out well—I would react how I would react, and I wouldn’t be able to change that.
“Number fifteen?”
“Yes,” I said without thinking. I was upset at Lucid for not being direct about this. He’s responsible for this, I told myself. Whatever happens, it’s his fault, not mine.
I closed my eyes, changing into the princess. I almost fell over—she was tall, and her legs were long. However, I’d gotten used to the body of a quadruped before. I regained my balance shortly, and I carefully climbed the stairs onto the wing of the stage. As soon as I saw the audience, I froze.
This is for money and food. I have to suck it up. I took a deep breath in and let it out. This would be easy. Just repeat everything Lucid said and act like a princess. Nothing to it.
I took careful steps further up the stage. As soon as I came into the audience’s view, ponies in the front bowed before me, and a wave of bows travelled back. It scared the living daylights out of me. They were all waiting, expecting, ready to laugh at the kid who cried over spilled milk. I looked nervously among the audience, wanting to flee and hide behind the curtain. However, I didn’t, and stood speechless instead.
I wanted to follow the age-old advice and pretend that everyone in the audience was naked, but they already were. In fact, I was naked too, which didn’t help my nervousness at all. I searched the audience for the wheat sisters, and eventually found them. They were looking back at me, encouraging me to do something.
“Rise, subjects,” Lucid whispered.
Right. We were doing something. I echoed Lucid as he spoke to me. “Rise, subjects… That’s enough grass for now.”
As they straightened back up, a good half of the audience chuckled. I cleared my throat and continued to repeat Lucid. “Is everybody enjoying themselves?”
The crowd cheered in response.
“Good, good… Glad to hear everypony enjoys my annual cute-suh…” I paused as Lucid repeated it back to me, and I tried again. “cute-seen-yera.”
A few laughs at that one, and some coughs. I widened my smile and continued. “Sorry… After a thousand years… your memory goes out the window. And sometimes, an insubordinate or two.”
More laughs this time. I started to sweat from more than just the heat. Lucid had to step something up. Despite my dry throat, I continued. “Just this morning, that happened. I was displeased with my speechwriter. As per termination protocol… I threw him out the window. I was further displeased when I realized he was a pegasus.” Good, hearty laughs from that one.
“Yes, that’s right, he survived. And I needed a speech, so… I had no choice but to take him with me. He didn’t have time to prepare a speech. So, instead, I’m being fed this speech… from my speechwriter right now… who is very handsome… and very single as well. For all the single mares out there… he’ll be backstage after the show. Wink wink.”
Laughs and whoops came from the crowd. Lucid had stopped feeding me lines, so I turned around. His blue hoof ducked back behind the curtain, which made the crowd laugh harder.
Then, I started to catch on a little bit to what he was doing. I summoned up a small amount of confidence and turned back to face the audience, clearing my throat.
“I’m lost without my speechwriter. At this point… I’m just mindlessly repeating him. I like bananas. I also like butts.” More laughter. “I’m never sure which I like more. Both are truly natural wonders of the world. I’ve given each of them their own stained-glass windows.”
I didn’t get some of these jokes, but I went with them—the audience seemed to eat them up. If it made them laugh, then I couldn’t complain.
“So, in conclusion, I’m—Oh, you’re here with the pizza. Thanks a bunch, I’m starving—Hey, wait a second. This isn’t what I ordered. …What do you mean, ‘misread the order’? How many Princess Celestias are there in this town?”
The audience laughed. I feigned confusion as I said that line, trying to go along with it. I’ll admit, I was actually having fun. I did have to keep in mind that he was making fun of the princess, not me.
“Anyway, where was I… Oh yes, ahem. In conclusion, I would like to thank you all. Fairflanks is a terribl—excuse me, terrific place. I look forward to the day when Fairflanks… will once again be graced by my own fair flanks.”
Lucid whispered, “Now turn around and shake your rump.”
I whipped my head around and hissed, “What?”
“Turn around and shake your rump,” he repeated. “They love that.”
My face flushed with embarrassment. “I will not ‘shake my rump’.”
I heard some ponies in the first few rows burst out laughing. Lucid nodded through the slit between the curtains. “See?” he said. “It’s hysterical. Oh, and say, ‘Dear subjects, even on this day, let us not forget about the moon’.”
Now, shaking my butt was one thing. Shaking it while I was already naked raised it to a whole new level of uncomfortable. This was far beyond innocently tripping, this was lewd. And degrading.
Regrettably, I complied as convincingly as I could. Lucid was so dead after this. I cleared my throat. “Dear subjects… On this day, let us not forget about the moon.” And I turned around and “shook it”.
The crowd went wild. I got laughs and cheers and applause, but I had lost too much dignity to stay any longer. I smiled and stepped off-stage as quickly as I could, trying not to cry. I almost lost a gold-plated shoe from scurrying down the makeshift stairs of the stage.
“We’re going now,” I said to Lucid when I reached the grass. I felt a headache coming on.
“No, we’re not!” Lucid said, jumping down from the stage. “We have to find out who won. Otherwise, all this would have been for nothing.”
I grunted loudly, to make the point that I still wasn’t enjoying this. “Fine,” I said. I closed my eyes and changed back into Copper Flash.
“Oh, change back,” Lucid said after witnessing the change. “They’ll recognize you better as Celestia than as Copper.”
I grumbled something I’d rather not repeat as I changed back to Celestia. Lucid heard it. “Pardon?” he said.
“I said thanks for making a complete fool out of me,” I said. “You didn’t tell me I was going to shake my butt like that.”
“Well, they liked it, did they not?”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Well, that’s a shame, then, isn’t it? You’re not the only one who wants to return home alive, you know,” Lucid snapped.
I backed off slightly. “There must have been something else we could’ve done. An odd job around town, maybe.”
“Not likely. You would know that from Vanhoover. Given your changeling abilities, this was a wonderful opportunity. And it’s over now, so you have nothing to complain about,” he said.
I sat down and folded my arms, but I reprocessed what he had just said. Something had bothered me. I said, “Wait, you knew I was looking for work in Vanhoover? So, you followed me?”
He looked at me, waiting for me to say what he did wrong. “Yes. And?”
I shook my head a little bit to let it sink in. “You followed me? But, why? I mean, I know you followed us on the train, but you followed me all around town?” I was careful not to use the word “stalk”, but that’s what it felt like.
“Yes, yes I did,” he said nonchalantly. “You would’ve done the same in my horseshoes. The day after a dimensional spell goes awry, a stranger comes up to me asking about dimensions. I couldn’t lose sight of you.”
“Then why didn’t you say something from the start? I mean, I was right there, in that classroom. You could’ve said something.”
“Had to think about what I was allowed to say before I said it. That is, what with the princess…” He trailed off as his attention turned to the stage. “You hear that?” he asked.
“Hear what?”
“The crowd just hushed. I’ll bet they’re announcing the winner. Quick, we can’t miss it.”
Just like he said, the hubbub on the other side of the curtain had stopped. Lucid and I moved to the wing, where we could see what was happening on stage. A lemon-coloured pony in the middle of the stage extended his arm to his right and said, “Fillies and gentlecolts, the mayor!”
The mayor stepped onto the stage, and I could already tell why she was a prime candidate for imitation. She was dressed up in frills and doilies and anything else from the eighteenth century that could fit on a dress. Her gait was long and smooth, as if the whole world marveled at her grace.
“Good people of Fairflanks,” she said with a trill British accent. It sounded too comical to be real, but no, that’s how she actually talked. “The judging panel has evaluated all of the contestants, and a winner has been selected. That winner is…”
A drumroll began as a stringy grey horse brought up an envelope in her mouth. The mayor accepted it with her magic and opened the envelope. “Number 15, the Celestia impersonator!”
An excited roar erupted from the audience. I looked at Lucid and raised my eyebrows; he lowered his in reply, pushing me up to accept the reward. As soon as I stepped on the stage, the roar grew higher and hooves waved in the air. I heard some whistles from the back, too.
I smiled politely and shuffled to the centre of the stage. I brushed my flowing hair aside, trying to keep it from waving in the mayor’s face.
She levitated a trophy in front of me, full of gold coins. I thanked her and bit the handle of the trophy, about to drag it off stage. It was surprisingly light. Before I could, though, she motioned for me to stop and the crowd to quiet down.
“Just one moment, if you don’t mind,” she said. “You’re the best impersonator I’ve seen in my entire life. You’re almost an exact likeness,” she said as she pulled some of my hair closer to inspect it. “Please, share with us: what is your secret?”
The surprise and horror on Celery Stalks’ face flashed in my memory. It was best to leave the talent show on a positive note. “No,” I said, the smile on my face still glued on tight. “I really shouldn’t.”
“Oh, to the sun with the ‘magician and her secrets’ nonsense,” she said, putting a hoof to her chest. “We positively must know how you did it.”
I swallowed, though it was hard to with a dry throat. Every pair of eyes was on me, waiting, expecting. I wanted to take the money and run, but everyone wanted it. So badly, in fact, that they were cheering for it.
Fine. I was done with the performance and I had my money. If they wanted to know, then it was their fault. I closed my eyes and turned into my changeling form.
There were lots of immediate “Oh”s, then silence. No one moved, instead staring me and my black insect body over. Ready for the imminent attack, I bit the trophy handle and dragged it away as quickly as I could.
Then someone, somewhere near the back of the crowd, shouted, “Cool!” And everyone cheered.
I’m not sure why. It’s possible they didn’t know what changelings were way out here. Maybe they knew and they didn’t care. For whatever reason they cheered, they did. And it didn’t feel terrible. In fact, it felt pretty good.
I smiled and waved, staying there for a second. Actually doing well on stage was a high for me, so I let it last just a little bit. Then, when I had had my fill of success, I dragged the trophy all the way to behind the left wing. Lucid carried the trophy down with his magic, and lifted out the bits one by one to count them.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, I guess that didn’t turn out so badly,” I said.
“Oh, didn’t it?” Lucid said, distracted by counting, and I think still annoyed by me.
I changed back into Copper Flash. As soon as I did, I got a little light-headed, and kneeled on the ground to keep from fainting. I set my head on the soft grass and relaxed for a moment. Within a few seconds, I had recovered, so I straightened back up. I figured I must’ve been weak from not eating since breakfast.
“Good job! That was entertaining,” Wheat Flour said, smiling. She walked up to us, followed by her sister. “Congratulations on winning.”
“Yeah, good work.” Whole Grain smiled. I thanked them both.
Lucid mumbled something. I said, “Sorry, couldn’t quite hear that.”
He deadpanned. “I’m leaving.”
“What?” No, he couldn’t. He was the expert on dreams, and possibly our ticket to see the princess. If there was any pony that had to be with us, it was him. “Why?”
“That’s fifty,” Lucid mumbled, pouring the bits back into the trophy cup. “We’ll split it, fifty-fifty.”
Besides the money, I needed to keep him from leaving. “Woah woah, hold on,” I said.
“Yeah.” Whole Grain put her hoof on the trophy. “Fifty-fifty isn’t fair.”
“Half the work, half the bits.” He began to float out bits from the trophy one by one and put them in his bag.
“Hey!” I said, trying to stop the flow. Whole Grain jumped in and helped me as I tried to reason with Lucid. “That’s not fair at all. There’s three of us, and only one of you.”
His upper lip raised a little, baring his teeth. “Two of you did nothing. You get two-thirds. Take it or leave it.”
“Gentlecolts.” Kale and Gale appeared between us. Kale cleared her throat, tipping her nose up as she spoke. “Please, let the experts handle this.”
Gale eyed all of us. “You have fifty bits, and four ponies to split them amongst.”
“Fifty does not divide evenly into four.”
“It comes out to twelve point five, in fact.”
“The closest number to fifty such that four divides evenly into it is forty-eight.” Kale reached down and grabbed a bit with her mouth.
“The solution is simple. Twelve bits per pony.” Gale also bent down and grabbed a bit. With her magic, she lifted all of the remaining bits into the air, split them into four even groups, and set them in neat little piles in front of each of us.
I stared at the pile of bits in front of me, then did a quick count. There were indeed twelve. “Thanks,” I said.
Kale smiled. “Don’t mention it. And way to go with that impression.”
“Top notch. That was some impressive magic,” Gale added. They both clopped hooves with me in a fist-bump fashion and walked away.
Lucid gathered his pile and stuffed it in his bag, avoiding eye contact with us. “Good day,” he said with a scowl, turning and trotting away. He ducked under the bordering twine and disappeared into the crowd beyond.
“Later,” Whole Grain said, waving her hoof in one circular motion.
“Wait a minute,” I said, running to catch up with him. “Wait up!”
I went under the twine and stepped into the crowd. I scanned the multitude of colour for a pony with blue fur, white hair, glasses... but I couldn’t find him. “Lucid!” I walked further into the crowd. “Professor Lucid!”
I was flabbergasted. One of the only two ponies who knew anything about how I got here, and seemingly one of the only two ponies who had any interest in—or even any knowledge of—trans-dimensional travel, and he just left.
“Copper.”
I turned around at the mention of my name. Whole Grain stood there, along with her sister. She gave me a reassuring smirk. “Don’t worry about him. C’mon, let’s go.”
No. He couldn’t just leave like that. He was the first pony here that I had told the truth. And he believed me, so easily. He was… my friend.
The world suddenly expanded, and I felt so small, so… lost. One little human in a world full of ponies, with no chance of going back home. Stuck in this world forever. I felt helpless, and alone. I couldn’t let him leave.
“Lucid!” I shouted. I ran to find something, anything to stand on. A barrel next to me was lying on its side. It would do. I pushed it up on its end and climbed it, trying to balance on it.
White hair, blue fur, glasses. Had to be somewhere. White hair, red fur—nope. White hair, blue fur, no glasses—nope. Glasses were probably a better thing to look for. Glasses, glasses, glasses. Glasses! No, too round.
The barrel under me wobbled. I had to keep searching. Glasses, glasses. No, nowhere. Glasses, white hair, glasses, blue fur…
The barrel gave out from under me. I toppled and fell, landing upside-down in something soft. I rolled upright to face Wheat Flour as she set me down.
She gave a small smile, tiny creases forming at the corners of her eyes. “He wanted to go. Just let him.”
“But we need him,” I said, panting a bit.
“He doesn’t want us.” Wheat Flour put a hoof on my shoulder. “He has his reasons, I’m certain. It’s his choice.”
I sighed and took a glance at the surrounding ponies. He was my connection to this world. With him, I didn’t feel like this was some farfetched quest in a cartoon world. He made abstract things like magic and dreams sound like science, something that could be explained without too many hand-wavy motions. He was the reason this whole ordeal made any sense.
But, he had a choice, just as much as Whole Grain or Wheat Flour did. Even though his absence made me feel a little more lost, I couldn’t do much but respect his freedom to choose. And besides, I wasn’t entirely alone.
Down to three: the wheat sisters and I. It was kind of disheartening how fast we were losing group members. I was at least thankful our member count was more than one.
I followed Wheat Flour through the crowd and back to the backstage area. Whole Grain had gathered our bit piles into one big heap. It looked like a lot of money, however much it was worth. Surely, it was enough to buy us a few days’ worth of meals. Whole Grain must have thought so as well, for she was smiling. “So? Ready to grab some lunch?”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Wheat Flour said. She flicked a stray bit into the pile. “Though, I think we should find a way to carry these.”
They each looked at me, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize what they were thinking. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. If the small bag of six bits was now encased in my arm, what was to stop any more money from disappearing?
Maybe the one hole I had put the bag into was an anomaly. Yeah, the other holes in my arm should stay open. I nodded.
We scooped up all of the bits and stuffed them into my arms. They weighed down my arms and made it a little hard to walk, but once I was Copper Flash again, the weight disappeared. I changed back once more, just to make sure the money was still visible. It was.
Wheat Flour picked up some bits from my arm hole, blushing as she did. I shrugged in response. Whole Grain said, “Okay, then. Let’s get some food.”
I nodded as I became Copper Flash. At that moment, I felt that while we had some choice in meals, I’d try for something that reminded me of home. “I could go for a hamburger, I think.”
Wheat Flour giggled. “A what?”
Well, they at least knew what sandwiches were, right? “It’s like a sandwich with meat in the middle.”
“What kind of meat?” Whole Grain asked.
I began to answer, but stopped. Cow meat. Since cows were sentient beings here, I thought it best to withhold that information for the time being. I went with a safer bet. “Chicken. Chicken meat.”
Whole Grain raised an eyebrow, but Wheat Flour nodded. “Maybe we can get daisy sandwiches instead. Chickens are not common pony food, really.”
Daisy sandwiches. They put flowers in their sandwiches. Wonderful.
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My reaction was something between a facehoof and raucous laughter.
5470405 And then
I was like wtf is going on here!
So Sawyer became a dick for next to no reason... And the professor decided to leave because reasons.
This is very promising so far.
At that moment:
Now back to the story.
Very odd for Lucid to just split like that, quite uncharacteristic...
Somehow I feel this unflattering impersonation of Celly is going to bite him in the ass come their meeting g in Canterlot.
... and no, I will not point out the obvious joke. Everyone else is already all over that one.
As much as I dread the incoming disaster, this made the chapter worth it.
. . .
WAT
I... does he still not realize that equines are herbivores?
7509495
I'm thinking, 'its a dream' or something, and every member that leaves is him dealing with something.
or something...
idk, im tired, and ive been marathoning this, and ive got work soon, and its 2am OH BOY
love life.
BUT HEY, These stories are well worth it