Upon returning home, Sparkler was bone tired. Not only was she tired, but she was covered in grease. As would be expected from a pony who had just worked a double shift at a diner.
Of course, she had mechanisms to mediate this element of her unpleasant job. Namely, the fact that she had absolutely no body hair. She shaved it. With magic. Apart from her mane and tail, she was as hairless as an alicorn. Nopony seemed to notice; her skin was roughly the same color as her coat would have been, and no pony could tell that she was naked unless they physically touched her or got very close. Especially while she was wearing a uniform.
Which was not to say she did not get greasy. She did. In fact, the combination of being a teenager and having no protective fur meant she manufactured a fair amount of her own grease just by default. Because of this, as tired as she was, the first order of business was a shower, if only to get the smell of hay burgers out of her mane and tail.
She entered the kitchen and paused. There had been a two hour break between her night-to-morning shift, which had ended around noon, and her next shift, which had started at two. She had stopped at home to alphabetize and then eat her cereal. When she had come home, Derpy had been aflutter with excitement, preparing muffins as usual.
When Sparkler had left, Derpy was just taking a set of fresh apple muffins out of the oven and putting them on a cooling rack. And they were still there, exactly where Sparkler had seen them eight hours ago. That was extremely unlike her mother, she thought; Derpy would normally lovingly store muffins after the cooling stage.
That was odd, but not necessarily worrisome. Derpy tended to forget things. Sparkler knew that; she had been living with her for seventeen years. Her mother was probably intelligent, but Sparkler suspected that she had experienced severe brain damage at some point. She could not help herself.
Still, she supposed that Derpy had gone out for some reason. So, Sparkler continued on her way, passing the kitchen to the house’s only bathroom. She was greatly looking forward to a shower.
Except that when she opened the door, she was faced with a profoundly discouraging sight.
Derpy was in the bathroom, standing in the center. With her head firmly stuck in the toilet.
“MOM!” cried Sparkler, angrily. “Not AGAIN!”
“Huh?” Derpy’s voice echoed from within the porcelain bowl. “Sparkler? Oh…um…” She struck a pose that would have been casual, save for the fact that her head was inside a toilet. “Everything’s fine! I’m almost- -ugh!- -finished!”
She tried to pull herself out, but her head was clearly quite stuck.
“Stop, STOP!” ordered Sparkler. “Pulling makes it worse!” She face-hooved, and knew that she would get no shower on this night. “Mom…”
“I’m not stuck,” insisted Derpy.
“Really? Mom. Why is your head even in there?”
“Well…I woke up, and Spoiled Rich was there, and I thought she was the boogeymare, and we talked and she said a bunch of stuff, so then I went and made some muffins, and I took them out to cool…”
“I was there for that part.” Sparkler raised an eyebrow. “Wait, Spoiled Rich? The hot older mare? I wasn’t here for that part.”
“…and then I went to the bathroom,” continued Derpy, “because I needed to pee. But I dropped a muffin the toilet, so I reached in to get it and I couldn’t get my head out and- -and I ate the muffin- -and now I don’t have a muffin- -” She was starting to sob. “And I’m pregnant and hormonal and- -SNIFF- -Sparkler, please call the fire department!”
“I can’t,” groaned Sparkler. “They won’t come to our house anymore.” She grabbed her mother and pulled. Derpy squealed and her wings flapped wildly.
“Wow you’re really in there. Hold on, I’ll go get the butter.”
“But I need that butter for muffins!”
“Well it’s not going to do you any good with your head in the pot!” Sparkler groaned. Butter was expensive, but there were few other options. If she herself had gotten her head stuck in the toilet- -which had only happened twice- -the restraint grease on her body would have made getting herself out easy. But Derpy was not greasy, or at least not anticipated to be. She also did not have a horn, which would make this easier. Maybe.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Well my legs are numb. But no. There’s plenty of water, so I’m not thirsty. Just don’t flush, I tried that and I almost drowned. Twice.”
Sparkler raised an eyebrow.
“Okay fine. It was three times. But I was sure it would work the last one!” She sighed. “I just don’t know what went wrong…”
It took the better part of twelve hours to extricate Derpy. By the time they were done, both of them were very greasy- -and Derpy was still not free. Rather, the toilet seat had come loose and hung around her neck.
Both of the mares sat on the floor, leaning against each other and breathing hard.
“Dang, mom,” said Sparkler at last. “Does pregnancy make your head swell up or something?”
Derpy thought for a moment. “Not usually. I think. Just my middle bit. And whatever part of me makes pony-milk. That part swells up too.”
Sparkler winced, but thought for a moment. “Um…do we even have a part like that?”
Derpy and Sparkler looked at each other, and then looked themselves over. Only Sparkler was successful, as Derpy could not look past the toilet seat that surrounded her head. As it turned out, they did not have milk-generating organs of any sort. They were ponies, after all.
“Huh,” said Derpy. “I was sure I had an udder.”
Just then, they both heard a sound. There were, of course, a number of sounds in the old house: namely the fact that it creaked, that the walls were full of mice, rats, and- -so Derpy claimed- -a “muffin-stealing nutria”. There was also, of course, the raccoon under the porch as well as the tiny Pegasus who lived there with it- -but those were all familiar sounds.
This one was familiar too. It was the sound of the front door opening.
Derpy and Sparkler looked at each other.
“What was that?” asked Sparkler, already knowing.
“The…door?”
“I didn’t lock it. Because the lock is broken.”
Derpy gasped. “And…you’re already here. And I’m here. So…” She suddenly clapped her hooves on the sides of her face. “It’s a BURGLER!”
“A burglar? Who the heck would want to rob US?”
“She’s gonna steal my raisins!”
Sparkler stuffed her hoof in her mother’s mouth, silencing her. The hoofsteps were now climbing the stairs. Derpy’s eyes widened and she muttered against Sparkler’s hoof.
“I know,” whispered Sparkler. “We just need to stay quiet. Then she’ll- -”
The door suddenly slammed open, nearly torn from its rusted hinges- -or, in its case, one hinge and two pieces of masking tape.
“GAH!” screamed both Derpy and Sparkler, holding each other tightly. “THE BOOGEYMARE!”
Spoiled Rich stared at them, annoyed as she was confused as to why a mother and her daughter were lying in the center of the bathroom covered in butter and hugging one another- -all while smelling strongly of toilet water. She suspected some manner of perversion was afoot.
“For the last time,” she groaned. “I am NOT the boogeymare!”
Derpy and Sparkler stopped screaming.
“Oh. Hi there,” said Derpy.
Spoiled Rich stared at her. There was a strange look in her eye, beyond the normal reproach and contempt. Sparkler noticed it, but Derpy did not, mainly because one of her eyes was focused firmly on the faucet of the bathtub while the other stared longingly at the sink.
“Derpy,” said Spoiled, her voice totally neutral. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Oh,” said Derpy. She stood up. The toilet seat was still around her neck. “Sure. We can go downstairs. Sparkler needs to take a shower, she’s covered in bubber.”
Sparkler sighed. “I can’t. I’m already late for my next shift. I’ll sleep on Thursday, I guess.” She sighed. “Next Thursday.”
Spoiled stood by the door as Sparkler left. The two eyed each other suspiciously. Spoiled was as neutral toward the girl as she was to anypony, which meant she hated her only slightly…for now. Perhaps it was because although Sparkler was a unicorn, she was known to be virtually illiterate through the town. Nothing more than a lowly, shaved, ignorant eccentric.
When Sparkler was to the end of path leading from the house, Spoiled slammed the door behind her. One of the hinges snapped and it listed sideways. Spoiled found herself wishing she had brought gloves (or boots, as the two were roughly equivalent for ponies), as she had just touched a cheap door. She never touched cheap doors. That was what she had a butler for, after all, but speaking to an assassin was like playing with one’s cutie mark: it was best done alone and in private.
She quickly returned to the kitchen. Derpy was waiting for her.
In fact, Derpy was attending to the apple muffins she had baked earlier. Part of it was stress. She had understood- -if only vaguely- -that Spoiled had asked her to do a job, but it had never come to fruition, whatever it was. After waking up, she had started her muffins, gotten them out of the oven, and then promptly gotten her head stuck in the toilet. For at least twelve hours.
Spoiled approached and sat at one of the lawn chairs at the far end of Derpy’s table. It was the best chair, as it had all four of its legs and a cushion, unlike the other chair. Derpy sensed that Spoiled was disappointed with her, and that made her sad- -or at least thought that was what she was sensing. In fact, Spoiled looked at her with an odd expression of fear and interest, always staying back a considerable distance and never looking away. Her motions were rigid, as if she might bolt at any second.
Derpy had to improve the situation. The only way she knew how to improve a situation was with muffins, so she plated one and held it out to Spoiled.
“Muffin?”
Spoiled looked at it. “What’s in them?”
Derpy smiled broadly and chuckled. She loved talking about muffin ingredients, especially since- -and this was something she was very proud of- -these muffins had been made just in time, saving their ingredients from the verge of expiry. “Apples,” she said, still smiling. “Cut into little, tiny pieces. Sorry they’re a little cold. I had to work quickly. You know, while the ingredients were still fresh.”
Spoiled seemed to become very pale, and her sapphire eyes widened.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh.” Derpy stared at the muffins. Perhaps there was something wrong. She picked one up and unwrapped it, then took a large bite from it. She chewed. It tasted fine. Appley. Unfortunately, she was so enthralled by its deliciousness that she inhaled part of it and began coughing.
“Derpy?”
Derpy held up a hoof. “Eh…it’s not a problem.” She grabbed a glass of water and laughed softly. “Just some bones in the muffin…”
Spoiled grew very still. Derpy wondered what was wrong, but decided not to ask. It was probably a rich-pony problem that she would not understand. Instead, she waited until she stopped coughing.
“About the job,” she said. “I wanted to apologize, I just don’t know what- -”
Spoiled raised a hoof. “No apologies are necessary. I never specified the technique, and although excessive I have to say I’m impressed. After all, they deserved it. No story with star-crossed lovers should have a happy ending.” She produced a sack. It was made of brown cloth and had a money sign on the front. “I was so impressed, in fact, that I gave you a bonus. And that is something I very rarely do. Here is your fee. Twelve bits.”
Derpy gasped and, with a shaking hoof, took the bag. She opened it and saw more gleaming gold coins inside that she had since her childhood. “Oh wow!” she said. “That’s almost halfway enough to by one whole CHERRY!”
Spoiled continued to stare at her, wondering if Derpy was being sarcastic. Internally, though, she already knew that Derpy had no such capacity- -unless every joyous little thing she said was, in fact, sarcasm. That would change everything.
“Well. Don’t expect so much next time. Unless you’re as efficient as you were yesterday.”
“Efficient?” Derpy paused. “Next time?”
Spoiled stood up and walked across the table. “Don’t move.” She reached her hooves into the toilet seat surrounding Derpy’s neck and with one quick motion snapped it half. Derpy squeaked. Spoiled, as an earth-pony, was terrifyingly strong.
“There.” Spoiled went back to her chair. As she did, she set a folder on the table, allowing it to fall open. Pictures of a khaki-colored earth-pony with a gray mane spilled out.
“Wait a second,” said Derpy, trying to look at the picture but in fact having one eye focus through her whole house and on Carrot Top as she walked by, humming to herself and probably reeking of orange taproots. “I know that mare! That mare’s the mayor!”
Spoiled sat in the four-legged chair and nodded. “She is. I’m surprised you remember. I hope you didn’t vote for her.”
“Wait,” said Derpy, her eyes going wide. “We VOTE? And wow, those sure are some fresh carrots!”
“Of course we vote,” said Spoiled. Then she paused. Not only because she had no idea what carrots Derpy was talking about- -although had by this time realized that the mare was far more likely to be outright insane rather than stupid, as evidenced by what had once been Pear Butter and Bright Macintosh Apple. It occurred to her that she herself had never voted, or heard of a vote being called.
“I just thought we made her the mayor because it was her name. Like how Doctor Hooves isn’t really a doctor.” She leaned closer. “Don’t tell him I said that, it’s a secret!”
“That couldn’t be…”
“I know! He’s so smart too!”
“No. I mean the election…”
“Oh. It’s hard to tell, you know? We definitly don’t live in a democracy. Because Celestia. I think it’s more of one of those potato-ships.”
Spoiled paused, raising an eyebrow. “You mean a dictatorship.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
Spoiled thought for a moment again. She supposed it was. Except with an immortal goddess-queen. She supposed that meant it was a kind of autocracy.
“Regardless.” Spoiled put her hoof on the photograph. “The mayor needs to go. I want her gone. ASAP.”
“Gone?”
Spoiled nodded. “However you want. Whatever method, but don’t go overboard this time. You already impressed me, keep this one neat. Otherwise, I don’t care. Just put her on ice by the end of tomorrow before the next town council meeting.”
Derpy’s gaze hardened for a moment. Then, suddenly, she giggled. That sound made Spoiled nearly ruin the cushion of the chair she was sitting on. How she had even managed to even enter this house was beyond her, and being alone with this madmare- -this mare with a perverse talent for murder, who seemed to take so much joy in it- -now terrified her. She felt bad for Sparkler. It was the first time she had felt bad for anypony at all.
“Sure,” said Derpy. “I can do that.”