//------------------------------// // 66 Major Mayoral Stress // Story: Moonie shorts [Filly Nightmare Moon] // by Eighth //------------------------------// It seems like this mayoral job is determined to overwhelm you. With every passing minute comes in a new stack of paperwork to ensure done, and each stack brings news stresses. The budget is getting tighter yet it's almost impossible for a day to go by without someone breaking something. Ponies come to you about trivial matters, like their kids are staying out too late like you're some kind of counsellor and they expect you to put a curfew out or something. And the stress doesn't end there, you go home to your own little terroriser. It doesn't help that she's on school holidays too. "Oh... Yeah," you state aloud in dread as you notice the calendar at your side, "It's nearly the end of the year." And somehow you're washed down with the reminder that this is Moonie's final year of school. Sure, she's got Trixie as a magic tutor but that's a side job for her. And she's been slacking at that too. You grunt loudly in frustration as you grip your face and pull. "Uh, sorry sir, is this a bad time?" Calls the demure mare from your office door. "No, come on in," you gesture as you stare at the unicorn magically carrying a new stack. She pushes her messy blondish mane from her eyes and looks at you over her glasses. "So... These," she says uneasily as she raises the stack, "They're application forms for the Gilded Giraffe." "Thanks, could you put them here please," you reply as you point to the one empty spot on your large desk. She does then gives an awkward nod before taking a few aimless steps to the side. You glance up at her to see her failing to sneakily stare at you. "Yes," the mare suddenly stammers out before leaving hastily. You're now alone and you pause for a while before remarking how odd she was. Then your head falls to the oaken desk with a light this as you resign yourself to your fate of endless work but refuse to muster more energy to do it. "There's too much," you whine as you nudge your head into a more comfortable position and fall asleep from the fatigue. A noise startles you awake. You look around to the darkened and lonely office, figuring you might have just snored too loudly. And a quick glance at the clock tells you that's it's far too late for you to still be hanging around the office. With a quick curse under your breath you behind shovelling everything away and grabbing anything you'll need to take home. "Trixie made dinner," echoes a wry hiss from beyond the door. "Moonie?" "Oh, you do remember me. I thought you might have forgotten," she harshly jests. You feel a bit of guilty, whether she means it or not, and so your spirits falter. "I'm sorry, I--" "Swamped at work? I can tell," a hint of awe lines her voice as she gazes over the mountain upon mountain of paper. "That's still no excuse for dozing off. How was dinner?" "Trixie can't cook. It's any wonder how she has survived for so long. Anyway, what exactly does a mayor do?" Moonie seems to be in disbelief of it all, and seemingly overwhelmed by it. Not that you don't blame her, you figure during her time as a dictator shed shovel this work to some other poor soul. "Funny, come on. Let's go." You flick the rheum from your eyes quickly and Moonie seems to take notice. "Were you actually sleeping on the job? That's hardly fitting of the mayor!" "Yes, well," you cut yourself off with a sigh as you find yourself still lacking any real energy. Even enough to jest, so you squat to speak plainly, "Look. Trixie might need to start cooking dinner a few more times so I can spend a bit more time here." "Couldn't you hire an assistant or something? Like what you did for Minister Mare?" "I've put out an ad, I've yet to get any replies. So until then--" "But Trixie is my tutor, not my nanny," Moonie defiantly interrupts. "And when was the last time you had a lesson? I'm not paying her to eat all our food. If I needed that done I'd just pay you," you jeer, poking her belly softly. You do your best to smile and laugh but the lack of energy makes it a difficult endeavour. It's possible that exhaustion shows on you, either in your expression or your tone, as Moonie eyes you carefully. "Everything okay?" Moonie seriously asks in a rare and shocking expression of consideration for another living creature. "Tired." Again she eyes you carefully, for a moment you think she will press the matter but instead, she leaves it be. "I want dessert. And a lot of it, every night, if I'm eating HER cooking." "No." She gazes up at you, pouting fiercely. Her lower lip entirely engulfs her upper lip with a quivering wobble, a soft whimper hums, and her head rests gently on your leg. "B-But your queen asked nicely." "No, you didn't... And for the record this doesn't work, you're only getting dessert tonight because I wasn't there." "Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Nightmare Moon always gets her way," she gleefully skips ahead with a maniacal laugh. You just shake your head with a low chortle as you shut out the office lights and lockup. Once you're home, and Moonie has slobbered away some custard before conning ice-cream out of you too, you set down a couple forms on the table. "Are you still working?" Whines Moonie. "Yeah, you're right," you reply as the slide them back into your briefcase and walk away. Moonie follows after you, her little hooves pitter-pattering in little skips to keep up with your long strides. Once you're in your room you fall onto the soft bed, your face swamped by darkness as you bury it into the quilt while Moonie leaps up beside you. If you were hoping for peace, you're quickly reminded of why you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up in the first place as a squishy yet firm hoof prods into your cheek and makes gentle circles. "Anooooon," cheerily chirps Moonie, the relish for your silent anguish drips from her words, "I'm bored." Rotating your head, you gaze up at her with apathetic eyes. She's proud of herself for bothering you. You can hear a muffled cackle behind those pearly white-fanged teeth that have turned upwards into a bright smile. You resign yourself, sigh, and sit up. "What do you want to do?" Moonie plods onto the ground, tucking her hooves under herself as she stares upwards to ponder as if this were some serious philosophical topic. You notice she steals a quick glimpse at you before nodding, to show she has made a decision yet pauses for a moment longer. "Read me to sleep," she finally answers as she invites herself to climb under your bed's covers. "Which book? Or shall I make something up?" You dryly ask as you go to get to your feet. "No, wait," utters Moonie excitedly as she magically grips the corner of your shirt, "I will make up a story for YOU tonight. Yes, your queen shall grace your lowly ears with a tale." Curious, you lie beside her and wait. "What are you doing?" She asks, bewildered. You look around, confused then Moonie suddenly grips the quilt and throws it over you. Awkwardly trying to tuck you in. "We're going to do this right. Understand? So get. Into. Bed," she says, emphasis on each word as she struggles to tuck you in without magic for some reason. Eventually, she succeeds resulting in you laying there like a bit of warming sushi. "So, what tale will you regale me with?" "Hmm, I think a story about a benevolent, night-loving mare who takes over the country for everyone's benefit." "I want something else," you protest in a mocking tone. "Don't interrupt," she giggles, slightly irritated as she jams a hoof into your face in protest. You reply with a slightly mushed voice as Moonie's hoof starts pushing your face so it's difficult to speak or so you make a silly face, or likely both, "You do it all the time when I tell stories." "Do you want a story or not?" You go quiet and patiently wait. Moonie sighs then thinks for a moment more. "Once upon a time, there lived a mare named..." "Sunny. Miss Butts. James," you suggest as you fight back a yawn. Noticing a glare so fierce it might stab a hole in you, you make a serious suggestion with a shrug, "Melody?" "Good enough," Moonie shrugs back, "Melody was a simple mare with a great power. But unfortunately, she lost her memory?" "How?" "She can't remember obviously. Don't interrupt. Melody wandered into this quiet and quaint town aimlessly, unsure where she was, why she was there, or what she should do." "Did anyone come out to help this poor pony?" "Yeah, a stallion, named..." Moonie looks to you, waiting for another suggestion but her sneer suggests she isn't up for a gag so you just mention the first that come to mind. "Smith." "Smith?" "Smith." "But that's such a bland--" "Smith." "Fine, Smith," Moonie groans, "Found her. And the two of them... uh... tried to run a farm? Arg!" Moonie shouts in defeat, though you can tell by the faint smile she is trying to hide that she is amused too, "I give. This is too hard." "Don't worry, I'll tell Miss Cheerilee to up your creative writing homework." "Traitor," she hisses in a hushed voice. You chuckle lightly as you close your eyes, a wash of ease creeps through your body and you begin to untense from some of the day's stresses. It's not something you were aware of until now, but you feel like sleep is actually achievable now. Feeling the grip of dreamland pull you in, you relax, until Moonie speaks up in a low muttering. "I'm far too nice to you, you know," Moonie remarks as she settles down under the blanket next to you. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." "I think I'll step up my evil for a few days. Gotta meet those quotas." "Do, and you're grounded," you chortle once more, giving Moonie a little affectionate pat before rolling onto your side. "You cannot order me," she says with a tired and drawn out yawn, "I am... Your queen." You're not sure if either of you says another word, as fall asleep in a very sudden moment to dream wistfully of a life with more free time to spend like this.