Chapter 18: No Good Very Bad Morning
Twilight, after my thorough beating, had been kind enough to heal me up afterward. Last night was still a rough night for sleep, though. Which meant I woke up this morning rather grumpy.
Which also means that I’m going to be a righteous pain in the flank today. I start my day by making my way down to the kitchen to help Spike with breakfast. Not being one of the primary causes of my current discomfort, I give my new little dragon buddy a pass. Especially since I remain exceptionally flammable, and probably delicious. The rest of the newly-established kitchen staff, however, is not exempt from my soon-to-be rampage of nasty-not-niceness.
Of course, I’m also too tired to be especially creative, so I settle for switching the labels on the sugar and salt bins. And make a mental note to eat breakfast, and possibly lunch, in town today. While we’re walking up to Twilight’s room, chatting somewhat (I don’t make for great conversation on little sleep), I pause halfway up, and tell Spike I’ll see him later, there’s something else I need to do.
That something, of course, being to find a screwdriver, and altering the hooks on every painting I can find, putting them off-center and leaving them in a permanent tilt. This is much easier to accomplish here than at the Royal Palace, due to the lack of ponies around every corner and the staff’s tendency to get lost. I find one particularly long hallway that leads to a rather important-looking room that’s just lined with all kinds of pictures of Twilight and her friends.
It takes me an hour to alter them all.
Soon enough, it’s time for me to set the dinging room table for lunch. Though there aren’t as many place settings, seeing as how the Princess isn’t expecting all of her friends all at once again. Which means my job is done relatively quickly. Though not without replacing all the salad forks with tiny annoying dessert forks, all the teaspoons with soup spoons, and turning the knives so they face away from the plate.
Also half the fruit in the bowl is plastic. I remind myself to find the pony who crafted the plastic fruit, as it’s terribly well made, and very convincing. The castle could use some.
It’s about noon when I remember that I actually have a date tonight. Thankful that Rarity is not one of the ponies attending lunch, and reminding myself to go find something to eat away from the castle, I make my way to the unicorn’s boutique to possibly find myself a decent suit, or maybe just a proper vest to wear.
The boutique is a rather colorful affair, I find, having not had occasion to visit it in my earlier adventures. There’s a rather pretty ‘We’re Open’ sign on the front door, so I walk in, being greeted by the chime of a small bell, followed shortly by a rather posh, feminine voice saying, “Coming!”
Rarity walks into the front room just as I find an out-of-the-way place to stand, and gives me a hesitant smile. “Oh, hello! Schaden... freude, was it?”
I nod. “Yep. Though I’m not actually Germane.”
“I see. What brings you to my shop today?” she asks politely.
“Well, it seems I have a date tonight,” I explain.
She practically explodes. “Oh, of course dear! Now, what kind of date is it? Are you going to some fabulous restaurant? Have you decided where you are going? Oh, what kind of activities do you have planned?” She rambles on a few more questions that I have trouble following.
“Actually, I’ve been invited over to dinner. At… her house,” I explain. I’m not sure if sharing my date’s name is appropriate, as I don’t know how tightly knit this community is. Also, when I mentioned her to Twilight she got really mad.
“Ooh, a private affair, I see! Well, you’ll certainly need something classy, if a bit understated. You never want to show up at somepony’s house dressed better than they are!” she explains, a tidbit I wasn’t aware of. I’m not sure if that’s just her opinion, or an unspoken rule, but she seems to be rather versed in such things, so I take her advice.
“I was thinking maybe a vest of some kind, a hat… maybe some kind of accessory,” I muse, looking around some of the display racks. Not surprisingly, most of the clothing is for mares, so I don’t find much in the vein of what I’m looking for.
“Well, dear, you’re not going to find anything like that on those racks! It’s rather rare that I have occasion to make clothes for a stallion,” she explains. “Not to mention most of the stallions here are a bit more… robust,” she adds politely.
I’d take offense if I wasn’t such a skinny bitch. Although, given my current mood, I have to remind myself not to mess with anything here. I try to go out of my way not to interfere with a pony’s livelihood. “Well, at least you don’t need to use so much fabric,” I joke half-heartedly.
She looks me up and down, appraising my appearance. “Oh don’t worry, darling. I’ve definitely worked with worse. You might be… more slightly built, but your coloration is wonderful. I think I’ll have just the thing in a few hours. Of course, I’ll need to take your measurements,” she explains, pulling out a measuring tape.
“I don’t know if I have a couple-OOF,” I grunt, as her magic whisks me away to a raised platform, where she begins measuring me from all angles. Some of which I’m pretty sure I need an adult for.
And thus begins my afternoon as the world’s snarkiest mannequin.