Under normal circumstances, Derpy tended to dream. Usually her dreams were strange: of strange worlds devoured by crystal, or of chaotic lands filled with clones, or perhaps endless icy wastes populated by unspeakable creatures of perverse flesh and even more perverse machinery. And muffins. She also commonly dreamed of muffins.
On this day, however, she did not dream of those things. Instead, she was standing in a largely blank, unfurnished room. A small gray unicorn filly was standing beside her, staring up with golden eyes.
“Sup,” she said.
Then Derpy awoke with a gasp. Her head ached, and she felt as if she had just been punched hard in the side of the face, probably with a blow that would have knocked her out if she was not already asleep.
She sat up just in time to see a mare backing away from her, shaking her wrist and wincing. A pink mare with violet hair, wearing a teal blouse.
“GAHHHHH!” screamed Derpy, recoiling to the armrest of the plaid couch. “THE BOOGEYMARE!”
“What?” said the mare, looking both insulted and confused. “I’m not- -”
“The boogeymare! THE BOOGEYMARE!” Derpy clapped her hooves over her nose. “Don’t take my bogeys! I need them!”
The mare stared at her agast, now insulted and furious. “How dare you imply- -even the thought of it!”
Derpy stared at her suspiciously, still covering her nose. “Then…are we going to dance?”
“Dance?”
“You are the boogeymare, aren’t you?”
The mare half-closed her eyes and rolled them, seeming to give up. “I wish I could hit you again,” she said. “But your head is, as expected, unnaturally hard. I already ruined the manicure on one hoof, I don’t want to ruin the other.”
“You could just use the first hoof a second time,” suggested Derpy.
The mare looked down at her hoof, and then raised it, preparing to strike the derp sitting before her. She paused, though, when Derpy did not even flinch. Then she shivered, realizing there was a strong possibility that this mare actually enjoyed it.
“Never mind,” she said, lowering her hoof. She sighed. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here, aren’t you?”
“It’s because I don’t have money for door locks.”
“I’m actually here for- -wait, what?”
“Yeah,” sighed Derpy. “The doors don’t close. Last week I almost got carried off by a raccoon. And before that a tiny orange Pegasus with no parents and useless wings snuck in to eat my muffins. Sparkler chased them both off with a broom, but I think they’re living under my porch.”
“Right…” The mare took a step back. “Let’s try this differently. Do you know who I am?”
Derpy looked up at her. “Well, if you’re not the boogeymare, then you’re probably Spoiled Rich.”
Spoiled Rich blinked. “Oh. Of course. Well, I am well known throughout the town- -”
“You’re Spilt’s daughter!”
Spoiled stammered. “Spilt? How- -”
“I was her TA when I was in college! She was so cute. Her horn was MASSIVE!” Derpy spread her hooves as wide as they would go, unconsciously performing the same action as she had when asked to describe a particular portion of griffon anatomy (the tail, of course). “Oh wow…” she sighed. “If she was a boy unicorn, I’d probably be your daddy right now.”
“Of course,” said Spoiled, gritting her teeth. “Because she was a UNICORN.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “But she went to school in the late sixties, so you would have to be- -”
“Late sixties.”
Spoiled Rich stared. Derpy was at least close to her age, but probably at least a decade younger. She was, in fact, infuriatingly adorable, with soft straw-colored hair and exorbitantly fluffy wings that now stood fully erect from her back. Spoiled assumed that Derpy was just confused- -which, with her being a known derp, was likely.
“I also saw your daughter yesterday,” said Derpy. “At my muffin stand.”
“You didn’t give her any, did you?” snapped Spoiled, so suddenly that Derpy jumped back a little bit.
“She didn’t want any.”
“Good! That little porker is on a strict diet. Unlike you, we actually have standards. She’s already ugly, but I can’t have ponies saying that I of all ponies raised a piggish little fatty.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“You don’t get as wealthy as I am by being NICE.”
“Oh.” Derpy looked around. “Um…about that? Why are you in my house?”
“Believe me, I don’t want to be here.” Spoiled winced at the tacky décor and the peeling paint on the walls- -and most of all at the hideous popcorn ceiling. No pony liked a popcorn ceiling. “But I felt I had to come in person.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you ever?”
Derpy shrugged. “Not usually, no.”
“Fine.” Spoiled approached one of the least soiled couches, contemplated it, and then decided that it was best to stand. “I hear your irresponsible behavior has landed you in trouble.”
“Irresponsible behavior?”
“Yes. But I suppose it is to be expected. You Pegasi can’t really control yourselves. You’re like rabbits.”
“Bunnies?” Derpy sat up and gasped. “Do you have bunnies? I love bunnies!” She looked around. “But…you don’t have any. So this isn’t about them.”
“No. Do you have the mental capacity to close your mouth and let me finish?”
Derpy contemplated for a moment. “Probably not?”
Spoiled sighed. “Then I’ll lay it out quickly. You are pregnant.”
“I am?”
“Yes. And you barely have enough money to support yourself…oh, why bother kidding? You don’t have enough money to support yourself. If it weren’t for you other daughter, you would have starved already, or be living in the street with the other trash.”
Derpy felt a pang of sadness.
“Now you have another one on the way. You can’t pay for this. You know that, right?”
Derpy nodded slowly.
“In other words, you’re in dire financial straits. Your only hope would be to get a better job, but seeing as you likely never even graduated kindergarten, I don’t think that’s likely.”
“I actually have two PhDs.”
Spoiled blinked. “Excuse me?”
“The first one’s in inorganic chemistry, the other in synthetic.”
“But then how- -why- -what?”
“How do you think I make the muffins so darn tasty?”
“But if that’s true, you could get a job- -” Spoiled stifled herself. That was counterproductive. Most likely, Derpy had just never thought of it, and she was not about to give her the idea. “Never mind. My point still stands. You have one daughter on her way to remedial school, and another on the way. You can’t pay for either.”
“I know…”
“So I’m willing to give you a way out.”
“Out?”
“Yes. I’m willing to offer you a job.”
Derpy blinked. She hoped that Spoiled had not yet noticed that she had morning-wings. Or, perhaps, her wings thought that Spoiled Rich was kind of hot. Derpy hoped that was not the case, as she did not agree. Mares were not her favorite.
“What kind of job?”
Spoiled smiled, and actually did sit down on a couch. The dingy olive one, the same one Sparkler had sat on the night before. “Well, something quite specific.”
“How specific?”
Spoiled thought for a moment. “How to put it delicately…” she paused again, and then spoke. “When you’re as rich as I am,” she began, “you need certain things done. Certain things that ponies sometimes frown upon. For the sake of advancing business, of course.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m looking for a pony to do my dirtywork.”
Derpy blinked. “Like…a maid?” She pointed at her closet. “Because I have a maid outfit ready to go.”
“Not a maid!” snapped Spoiled Rich. “The OTHER kind!”
“Ohhhhhh,” said Derpy, seeming to understand. “I haven’t done THAT kind of dirty work since college.” She paused. “Actually, that’s why I got the maid outfit in the first place…”
Spoiled blushed heartily. “Not THAT kind of dirty deeds!”
“Then what kind? “
“Do I need to spell it out?”
“Probably, yeah.”
“I need an assassin.”
“But I’m not a donkey.”
“What the- -no! NO! A hit mare! A triggermare, a wetworker, a contractor, my backdoor-mare!”
Derpy raised a yellow eyebrow. “All of those things sound an awful lot like the second kind of dirty deeds you wanted me to do.”
Spoiled sighed, and chucked a folder into Derpy’s face. It hit her in the nose, and then fell open, revealing a number of pictures of naked ponies.
“Oh my!” cried Derpy. She picked one up. “Oh wait, this one’s not naked! He has a hat!”
“Exactly. This is your first job. Consider it a test. See those ponies in the pictures?”
Derpy stared at the photographs hard, and both her eyes went out to either side. “No.”
“They’re apple farmers from outside of town. They are the only known producers of zap-apple jam in all of Equestria. My husband’s father made a fortune marketing that jam, and it’s still one of our chief products.”
“It tastes like rainbows,” said Derpy. She shivered. Rainbows tasted bad.
“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had it. It’s bad for my complexion, but that’s not the point. The point is, the pair in charge of producing it have insisted on raising the price. Which will cut into our profit margins greatly. And if we refuse the contract, they’re going to open exports to a unicorn company out in Canterlot.”
“So?”
“So? SO? So my idiot of a husband is going to go along with the high prices, even if we’re going to be taking a loss! He says ‘it’s the customers that matter’. Blah. Stupid. It’s the MONEY that matters. When I finally manage to pump out a son, I don’t want him inheriting some fading hick storefront! I want a corporate empire!” She leaned forward. “And you don’t get an empire if you let ponies stand up to you.”
“So…what do I need to do?”
“Make them go away. Permanently. Their eldest daughter is their heir, and she’s barely fifteen. She’ll be easier to control.”
“Um…”
“If you pull it off? I’ll give you a hundred- -I mean ten bits.”
Derpy’s eyes widened. “TEN? That’s more than I make in a month!”
A strange expression crossed Spoiled’s face. As if she had no idea that there were ponies that poor. It was a look of grave disgust.