Deader than dead? · 9:58pm Jun 4th, 2021
"Pfft, what can you do?" they asked. "Your Invisible Trixie story is dead."
"Oh ho, look who's so smart," Irrespective replied. "Turns out, my little story is only mostly dead, not all dead. I've been working on my necromancy skills, and I have given my odd little story a little shot of life! I'll let you have a peek at the mess below."
Having said that, summer is the worst time for me to get any writing done. With what little and sporadic time that I have, I'm going to work on Harem Bean, Who is Pinkie, and Mail Order Groom, but don't expect much.
“How much longer until we get there?” Trixie whined, and the seat cushion wiggled under Trixie’s unseen rear. “We’ve been on this train for hours.”
“It’s been forty-five minutes,” Bean countered. “Relax.”
The seat undulated more, and Bean assumed that Trixie had laid down, based on the wumph and the groan that came to his ears. “Well, Trixie supposes this is better than walking.”
“So, when you are visible, what do you look like?” Bean asked. “It would help my sanity if I had a mental picture of you, instead of a random voice that’s not attached to anything.”
“Trixie is, by far, the most beautiful unicorn that you could ever imagine. Like, take the most drop-dead gorgeous pony you’ve ever seen, multiply that by a hundred, and then you’re maybe in the neighborhood of how stunning Trixie is.”
“Okay. Now what colors should I put on that indescribably beautiful unicorn?” he said with a scoff.
“Trixie is the most perfect shade of blue that has ever been,” Trixie said in a proud tone. “Really, it is almost a color all unto itself, it’s so brilliantly blue. Trixie would say her mane is best described as cornflower blue, with pale cerulean stripes in perfect streaks throughout. It’s a good thing you cannot see Trixie’s eyes, because if you could, you would be hypnotized by their violet perfection.”
“You’re blue. Got it.” Bean squinted a bit and tried to picture a Trixie in the empty seat. “Hmm. You’re shorter than I expected.”
“Trixie is the perfect height, schlub,” Trixie retorted.
“I’ll just assume that ‘perfect’ means ‘average.’” Bean countered. “May I safely assume you have a long mane and tail?”
“Of course,” Trixie said. “One cannot have the proper gravitas in a performance with a pixie cut.”
Bean rolled his eyes. “Sure. I suppose you had a cape and hat to complete the look?”
“Naturally. But obviously, Trixie could not keep wearing them. Ponies scream and shoot magic at floating hats, and I liked that hat,” she added with a sniffle.
“My sympathies for your loss.” Bean’s gaze went to the window, and he watched the greenery of the landscape pass by as he asked his next question. “So, since you travel around a lot, where’s the best city to live, in your opinion?”
“Why?” Trixie asked. “I thought mommy and daddy wanted you to come right home after your vacation.”
“I’m not going back,” Bean stated firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, but I’m going to make my own way in life, and I’m not going to let my parents tell me what I’m supposed to be. I refuse to waste my life living their dream.”
There was a long silence after this, and Bean wondered if Trixie had decided to really disappear. The thought left when he heard shuffling noises, but it was another long moment before Trixie finally answered.
“Well, when you put it that way, Trixie might be able to give you a few suggestions,” she said softly, but then she cleared her throat and went on in her normal tone. “Vanhoover is nice, but it’s cold in the winter, and it snows a lot. Las Pegasus is too flighty, so don’t even bother. It’s all show and no substance. Appaloosa is decent enough, but Trixie can only take hearing ‘howdy’ so many times before it gets on her nerves. It’s impossible to get the smell out of your cape, too. Baltimare reeks of lobsters, Manehattan is too busy.”
“Okay. So now that you’ve given me a list of everywhere to avoid, what does that leave me with?” Bean asked.
“Applewood,” Trixie said with pride. “Trixie would live in Applewood, if she could.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Because Trixie is a travelling magician, remember?” Trixie snorted. “Honestly, you need to pay attention when Trixie is talking.”
“Right, sorry.” Bean rolled his eyes. “What about Neigh Orleans? I went there once as a kid. It seemed like a nice place. I loved the gumbo there.”
“No,” Trixie snapped sharply. “Do not, under any circumstances, go to Neigh Orleans. That is the worst city in the whole of Equestria.”
“Really? Why’s it so horrible? I thought it was charming, personally.”
Bean heard Trixie’s teeth grinding together. “Trixie has her reasons. Just trust Trixie and don’t ever go there again. Ever.”
“Fine, fine.” Bean made a note to himself to go to Neigh Orleans as soon as he got rid of his annoying invisible tag-along. For his part, he had enjoyed the music, the classic architecture, and the spices, but it had been so long ago that he’d forgotten most of the details.
“Trixie liked Fillydelphia,” Trixie offered after a moment. “Good sandwiches. The crowds are usually pretty large, too.”
Bean glanced to the blank seat, and he tried to imagine where Trixie’s eyes were. “Yeah? What kind of magic did you do in your show?”
“Trixie’s act is one-of-a-kind,” Trixie said with pride. “You’ve never seen anything like it before in your life.”
“That I believe,” Bean cut in.
“Of course, Trixie’s show could hardly be anything less than the best, given how Great and Powerful Trixie is,” Trixie went on without missing a beat. “Ponies come from far and wide to witness Trixie’s impressive skills at prestidigitation, death-defying feats of derring-do, and the most fantastic manipulation of magic ever seen in Equestria. There is none other who can compare to Trixie and her astonishing acts.”
“I take it you did all of the standard stuff, like pulling a rabbit from your hat and picking my card out of a deck?”
“Foal’s play,” Trixie scoffed. “Trixie can perform such mundane tricks, but it’s hardly worth Trixie’s time.”
“Huh,” Bean said. “Seems to me like you’d want to do that kind of stuff all the time.”
“Why? There’s nothing impressive about such common parlor stunts.”
“If you say so,” Bean replied. “But it just seems to me that ponies expect to see that kind of stuff when they go to a magic show, common as it might be. They’re like the free chips we give out to our customers—they bring ponies in, and they entice ponies to stay for more.”
Trixie didn’t reply to that, but somehow, Bean could tell that thought hadn’t ever occurred to her before. But she was the professional, and she apparently knew what she was doing, so he decided to offer no more commentary on the matter.
“So, how much longer until we get there?” Trixie asked after a lengthy pause.
Bean shook his head and chuckled. “I’d get comfortable if I were you, Trixie. It’s going to be a while.”
"... She's dead Jim. She's so damn dead that I wouldn't even bother burying what's left of the corpse."
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not Jim? I'm Bean. Plain old mustard yellow Baked Bean! Your 'Jim' took off three hours ago with my wife!"
"And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm a Doctor! Not a damn county Clerk or Marriage Councilor! Besides, with the look your wife was giving him, he'll be damn lucky to make it out with third degree burns. Now shut up, you're Jim until the real deal makes it back here... Hopefully without making my job anymore difficult."
"Clear!"
"Trixie does not like where you connected those electrodes."
"Shh. Now, clear! Where's the electric switch?"
You've been mostly dead all year. Hey, you just wiggled a chapter, that wonderful!