//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Pop of the Tops // Story: Carrot and Stick // by Tumbleweed //------------------------------// The train wound its way through the countryside, wheels clacking rythmically against the rails. I stared out the window and watched the scenery roll by. In the distance, a few pegusai shoved some fluffy clouds into place, and I found myself thankful that I'd never taken up a career at the weather factories. Too much like real work. “Again.” Carrot Top prodded me in the side, snapping me from my daydreaming haze. “How did we meet?” I wracked my brain, dredging up the details from the heavy dossier Carrot Top had foisted on me as soon as we settled into our sleeper cabin. “At ... a gallery opening?” “Fashion expo. The one that designer from Ponyville put on.” “What in the world would I be doing at a fashion expo?” “Meeting me.” “If I wanted to go somewhere to meet a mare, I'd find someplace better than a fashion show.” “That's not important. The important thing is that I would go to a fashion show.” Carrot Top huffed. “It's a plausible place to meet someone.” “But not me.” Carrot Top grit her teeth. “Do you at least remember our anniversary?” “Hell if I know.” I shrugged. “Honestly, it'd probably be more believable if I didn't.” “Nopony will believe we're dating if we keep arguing like this.” “You're right. They'll think we're married.” “You're insufferable.” “I'm being blackmailed.” “Stop complaining. This will be easy if you just pay attention.” “'Easy' usually doesn't involve a file as thick as a phonebook.” A steam whistle shrilled, and the conductor started making her rounds. “Next Stop, Ponyville!” Carrot Top's expression soured (which is saying something). “We're running out of time. We get off on the station after this one, and you're still getting details wrong.” “Look.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “I know you're just trying to make this easy, but you're honestly over complicating things. This isn't one of your 'operations,' thank Celestia. All we've got to do is pretend to like each other for a little while, and then your parents get to believe you're just another normal mare and not Fancy Pants' favorite knee-breaker.” “It's not that simple.” “It is that simple. Take it from me, Miss Top. The best lies aren't the ones you've made up ahead of time. No, the best lies are the ones you never have to lie about in the first place, because somepony's made up their mind about you. You just toss them a few juicy details, and let the other pony figure out the rest. The rest is just smiling and nodding. How else do you think a scoundrel like me became the toast of Canterlot?” “Dumb luck?” “Besides that.” “There it is. Hilltop.” Carrot Top pointed a hoof up at the sprawling country house perched atop a grassy hill. The summer air was thick and warm, but not oppressively so. A regiment's worth of earth ponies frolicked around the big house, the very picture of rural celebration. The older ones chatted in little groups, while the younger colts and fillies chased each other in circles. “They were feeling fairly literal when they named it, weren't they?” I said. “Don't knock it. My family's lived in this house for generations. Now c'mon.” Carrot Top put on a mostly genuine smile and led me up the hill. “Carrot!” An older mare with poofy white mane nearly bowled my companion over. “You made it! I was getting worried!” “Sorry Mom, the train got held up.” Carrot Top said, even as she pulled her mother in for a hug. “It's good to see you, though.” “It's been too long!” “I know, I know. I've just been so busy.” “With work, yes.” Carrot Top scratched at the back of her neck and managed a guilty smile. “But, you know, those insurance rates won't collate themselves, you know? “But not too busy, I see.” Mrs. Top looked over Carrot's shoulder and sized me up, curious. “This is your ... Friend, you told me about?” “Flash Sentry.” I put on my dashing, toothpaste-advertisement-worthy smile. “It's a pleasure, Mrs. Top.” “Please! Cotton Top will do just fine. You're going to make me feel old, otherwise.” “Perish the thought. Why, if I didn't know better, I'd say that Carrot had an older sister.” “Flatterer.” Cotton Top held a hoof to her mouth as she giggled. “IS THAT MY BABY CARROT!?” A deep basso voice bellowed, loud enough to rattle my eardrums even from across the hill. Moments later, one of the biggest stallions I ever saw galloped through the crowd, and scooped Carrot Top up as if she weighed nothing at all. “IT IS!” Carrot Top broke down into bubbly, girlish laughter, and gently pushed at the big pony's arms. “Daaaaad!” “And allow me to introduce my husband, Over the Top.” “WELL!” Over the Top boomed, and I began to wonder if the Top family was somehow distantly related to Princess Luna. “WHO'S YOUR FRIEND, BABY CARROT?” “Dad, this is my ... Boyfriend.” It's a testament to Carrot Top's acting skill that she didn't wince as she said it. “Flash Sentry.” “FLASH! A-HAA!” Over the Top seized my hoof between two of his, and shook it hard enough to rattle my teeth. “THE FLASH SENTRY, OF THE ROYAL GUARD?” “The same, sir.” I said once my eyeballs stopped spinning. “WHY, BABY CARROT, WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE DATING A WAR HERO?” “I wouldn't go that far, sir.” I said, mostly by reflex. The key to a proper heroic reputation is to deny it at every opportunity. “I'm was just doing my job.” “BAH! I HEARD WHAT YOU DID DURING THE BATTLE OF CANTERLOT, FLASH! BEATING DOWN CHANGELINGS WITH NOTHING BUT YOUR BARE HOOVES! DAMN IT ALL, I WISH I COULD HAVE BEEN THERE! I USED TO SERVE IN THE 5th IMPERIAL SAPPERS, YOU KNOW! WHY, I HAVEN'T BEEN IN A PROPER SCRAP SINCE GALLOPOLI! I'M SURE YOU GAVE THE BUGS A GOOD DRUBBING, WHAT?” “What?” I said, well on my way to deafness. “GOOD LAD!” Over the Top smacked me across the shoulders. He turned to Carrot Top, beaming. “TAKE CARE OF THIS ONE, BABY CARROT! HE'S A KEEPER! WHY, WE MIGHT EVEN NEED HIS HELP LATER! THAT VALLEY TRASH IS ACTING UP AGAIN-- WE COULD USE ANOTHER SET OF HOOVES TO KEEP THEM IN LINE!” “Valley trash?” I said. “It's complicated.” Carrot Top said with a wince. “And unimportant.” Before I could ask any more inconvenient questions, a plump little filly trotted over and flung her hooves around Carrot Top's neck. “Hey sis!” The girl looked like a slightly younger, slightly shorter, far less murderous version of her sister, and had some kind of pastry as her cutie mark. “Hey Muffin.” Carrot Top pulled her sister into a friendly sibling headlock, and ruffled her orange frizz of a mane. “Been keeping out of trouble?” “Nope!” “That's what I like to hear.” Carrot Top laughed. “I guess you should meet—” “Flash Sentry.” Muffin said, nodding. “I heard dad. From inside.” “You get used to it.” Cotton Top said with a little shrug. “Now come on, dear,” she tugged lightly at Over the Top's leg. “You're going to overwhelm the poor boy.” “ME? OVERWHELMING?” “Oh, hush.” Cotton Top smiled. “Now come on, I'm going to need your help in the kitchen.” “YES DEAR!” Over the Top nuzzled his wife in one of those nauseatingly sweet moments typically reserved for greeting cards, and then the two of them trotted off to the kitchen. “Is he ... Always like that?” I asked Carrot Top, even as I rubbed at one of my aching ears. “Not really, no.” Carrot Top shrugged. “Sometimes he's louder.” “You could have warned me.” “You would've known ahead of time, if you had bothered to read--” Carrot Top snapped, and then reined herself in as she realized her sister Muffin was still there. “--the letters my family sent. That you said you didn't want to read because you said they were private.” “Ah, yes. Those.” I nodded. Muffin glanced between the two of us, puzzled. “Oh kaaaay?” To throw off any further suspicion, I opted for a change in subject. “Are you hungry? I'm starving.” I said, actually telling the truth for once. “You don't think your parents will be long in fixing dinner, will they?” “We've got plenty of food!” Muffin said, suspicion forgotten at the prospect. “C'mon, follow me!” And with that, she led us on towards a long table piled high with baked goods. “I even made my special blueberry scones!” “Good save.” Carrot Top murmured to me. “I told you I'd be good at this.” I muttered back. “We've already gotten past the hard part-- just relax and enjoy the party.” The next few hours went by in a blur. The Tops seemed to have a nigh endless supply of delicious pastries and distant relatives, both of which they were intent on shoving at me. There was High Top, a basketball prodigy, Black Top, a civil engineer, a bearded old codger by the name of Uncle ZeeZee, and a dozen more besides. Somewhere along the line a large barrel of cider was tapped, and soon enough I was swapping war stories and singing old barracks songs with Carrot's father. This, of course, embarrassed her to no end, which I figured made our cover story all the more convincing. Not that there was much convincing to be done-- I made pleasant small talk for the most part, neatly deflecting any inquiries that probed too deep. But even the legendary stamina of the earth pony gives out eventually, and bit by bit, the party began to die down. “Tired?” Carrot Top materialized at my side-- I wasn't sure if it was due to her ninja like stealthiness or just my own fatigue that I didn't hear her coming. “Very.” I stretched my wings out and rolled my neck. “Where've you been?” “Catching up with my sister, mostly.” “Sounds pleasant.” “It was ... nice.” Carrot Top smiled, and then shook her head. “But now, we'd both better get some sleep. C'mon. We're staying in my old room.” “Oh.” I said, blinking. “That's ... logical. But your family won't, er, mind?” “I'm a grown pony.” Golden Harvest tilted her nose upwards. “Not to mention that every other couch, day bed, and guest room is already occupied. A lot of stretches of the floor, too. It's the only place the two of us can sleep. Just don't get any ideas, alright?” “Perish the thought.” Carrot Top guided me through the sprawling house, and past her various relatives sprawled out within it. On more than one occasion I took to the air, silently gliding over a distant uncle or cousin who had settled in someplace inconvenient. Finally, Carrot Top opened up the door, and I gasped. Even in the scant light available in the mostly dormant old house, I could tell Carrot Top's cozy little bedroom was pink. Very pink. Conspicuously pink. Pink enough to make the frilliest of Canterlot fashions seem subtle and subdued in comparison. Carrot Top must have seen my bewildered expression, as she shot me an annoyed glare as she pushed me into the room. “The room hasn't been redecorated ever since I was a little filly.” “I see.” I looked over the irregular row of pictures and martial-arts trophies perched atop a dresser. “Though it's somewhat hard to believe you were ever a little filly.” “Ha. Ha.” Carrot Top rolled her eyes, and pulled a pillow off the bed. “Go on and make yourself comfortable.” “Right, right.” The mattress creaked slightly as I flopped down onto it. I stretched out-- only to pause a moment later as I noticed something. “Wait. What are you doing?” “I'm going to sleep on the floor.” Carrot Top set her pillow down and began to curl up in the corner. “Hold on now, you can't do that.” I rolled off the bed. “Look, it's your bedroom, you should get the bed.” “You're the guest.” “I'm half drunk. I'll barely even notice the floor. I've passed out in worse places.” “I believe that.” Carrot Top grumbled. “But I'm telling you, I'm going to sleep on the floor. Why do you even care?” “I ... I'm not exactly sure, but I bet I could give you a good reason if your father hadn't foisted a couple gallons of cider on me.” I blinked, bleary-eyed, and fought down the sudden urge to belch. “I'm sorry about my dad, he's a little ... much.” “He's actually fairly good company, so long as you're on the other side of the room.” Carrot Top actually laughed at that one. “Get to sleep, Sentry. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” She was righter than she knew, but neither of us was aware of the fact just yet. “Right, right.” I pulled my wings in against my sides, curled my legs in beneath myself, and tried to get as comfortable as I could on the hard floorboards. “I'll just settle in here, and you can sleep on the bed like a civilized pony.” Carrot Top just glared stubbornly at me from across the room, and then flopped down on the floor in the opposite corner, leaving the bed untouched. At least I tried, I thought, as I let myself lapse into a well-deserved slumber. It wasn't my fault the mare was as stubborn as she was. “So that's how it is, then?” I asked. “Yep.” “We're both going to sleep on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed just waiting to be used.” “Yep.” “Alright then. Just making this clear. But don't cry to me when you wake up with your muscles all in knots.” “Goodnight, Sentry.” “Goodnight, Top.” We slept. As the first few rays of sun streamed in through the window, I groaned. I was about to pull a pillow over my head when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. More paranoid parts of my psyche kicked into gear, and I immediately tensed, bracing myself for whatever horribleness that was about to come my way. A few seconds passed without anything trying to kill me, and I braved opening my eyes all the way. Carrot Top stood in the center of her childhood bedroom, slowly but deliberately working her body through some kind of stretching exercise. She'd draw one hoof across her body, extend it outwards, then pivot her weight, put that hoof down, and then repeat the process with another. After a few moments of observation, I realized she was working through hoof-to-hoof combat maneuvers, albeit slowed down a hundredfold. So abstracted (and without the intended effect of someone getting punched), her movements were elegant and artistic, like the motions of a ballet dancer. I couldn't help but watch the subtle shift of muscle beneath Carrot's coat as she moved. The sunlight glinting off her coat only added to the strange beauty of the sight; I could see why they put “Golden” in her code name. With one last release of breath, Carrot Top set all four hooves on the floor. She opened her eyes-- and immediately looked over at me, suspicious. “What're you looking at?” “Nothing!” I blurted, perhaps a little too loud. As I stood up, a few of my joints popped and cracked, and I found myself wishing I'd bothered with the damn bed. “Just wasn't expecting you to put on a little show, that's all.” “It wasn't for you.” Carrot Top huffed. “It's just ... relaxing. Not to mention this is the only place in the house where I can get some privacy.” “I see. I can go, if that helps?” “Too late now. It's not like you haven't seen me in action before.” She put one hoof to her chin and pushed on it, causing her neck to crack slightly. At least I wasn't the only one suffering from an uncomfortable night's sleep. “Unfortunately.” I fought down an urge to shudder. “Are you hungry?” Carrot Top tilted her head the other way, eliciting another faint pop. “My mom makes the best--” “Carrot!” Cotton Top barged though the door, eyes wide and teary. I fluffed my wings out in surprise, and wondered if it was a good or bad thing Cotton Top hadn't stumbled across us in a more compromising situation. It didn't matter in the end, however, as she soon flung herself at her daughter, sobbing in panic. “It's terrible!” “What's wrong, mom?” “Muffin is missing!”