It was a morning like any other in the city of Danville. All was quiet and peaceful, which the citizens took to mean they had a good few hours before something odd happened. Something odd had happened almost every day since the beginning of summer. The days where nothing happened – or at least nothing that caught the media’s attention – had become their own sort of odd. Record breaking roller coasters would rise up out of nothing, only to be taken down in the blink of an eye. But it wasn’t just theme park rides that seemed to be passing through the otherwise sleepy little city as if on migration. There were bio domes, unidentified flying objects, objects that were identified but had no realistic business flying, the spontaneous reuniting of decades old bands, far too many varieties of robots, the random appearance of holes all over the place, the occasional army of gnomes, unexplained weather, and that one time when gravity seemed to have become optional.
Yes, the citizens of Danville had become quite accustomed to this parade of oddities that beguiled their town. After all, there was no reason to let a procession of tap-dancing giraffes make one late for work, especially when they might be logrolling tomorrow. That was just life in the sleepy little city. The odd had become ordinary; so ordinary that many citizens hardly even noticed the oddities anymore. And, since they didn’t notice them, they didn’t question how or why the same two colts, a platypus, or a crackly voiced pharmacist always seemed to be present at one oddity or another.
Out in the suburbs, specifically at the residents of the Fletcher family, a pair of unassuming colts was laying under a tree in their backyard. It was part of their morning ritual to relax after breakfast and wait for inspiration to strike. To the left was an earth colt named Phineas. He had an orange-yellow coat, a messy and shortcut mane and tail of brilliant vermillion, and wore a striped shirt of orange and soft yellow. His brother, Ferb, was the unicorn that looked to be a bit tall for his age. He had light tan fur, a messy green mane and tail, and wore purple pants.
“Hey Ferb,” Phineas said tiredly. He yawned. “Got any ideas for what we’re gonna do today?”
Slowly Ferb turned his head towards his brother, just enough to make eye contact, and blinked.
“Yeah. Me neither,” Phineas agreed. The two went back to lounging.
“Hey Phineas,” greeted the musical voice of the descending pegasus filly with a neatly trimmed black mane and tail. To any who would have known better, they would have run in terror at the sight of such heavily concentrated pink. The filly had light pink fur, a bright pink top and skirt, a somehow even pinker bow on her head, and the flapping of her pink wings caught the sunlight in just the right way to make her almost glow with the color that has been the doom for countless innocents across the ages and existence. Truly this would be a terrifying sight for any who understood the primordial laws of the universe. However, Phineas and Ferb hadn’t thought to unlock those yet, so they ignorantly treated this affront to the natural order as just another of their close friends.
“Hey Isabella,” Phineas greeted with much more enthusiasm than earlier. Somehow the sight of this particular friend had caused a small surge of energy. “We’re just thinking about what we’re going to do today.”
Perry, the colts’ pet blue green platypus, scuttled by. He wore only his usual dead-eyed stare. Because he was a platypus. As good as a pet he was and as fond as the boys were of him, it was just common sense that a platypus was about the most useless and uninteresting creature in the animal kingdom. That said, the semi-aquatic egg laying mammal did grace his owners with his catchphrase. “Ktktktktktktkt.” He then continued on to parts unseen, no doubt to do something boring that no one would care to see anyway.
“Oh Phineas,” Isabella swooned. “I’m sure whatever you come up with, it’ll be amazing.”
Phineas, as ever, was oblivious to Isabella’s flirtatious eyelash fluttering as he continued to stare out at nothing in particular. “Strange. Usually by this time we’ve either seen something, or someone makes an offhooved comment that inspires us. But so far there’s been nothing.”
“Kinda weird, don’t ya think,” commented another colt that had invited himself into the backyard. Buford was an earth colt who was especially large for his age. He had milky white fur, a greasy black short cut mane and tail, and a near permanent scowl affixed to his face. His shirt was as black as his hair with a skull emblazoned on the front.
“What’s weird?” The question came from the tiny unicorn that Buford had tied up in liquorish earlier that day and had been dragging behind him ever since. Baljeet’ had a Windian accent on top of his squeaky voice, dark brown fur, and blue overalls underneath his candy binds. Despite his predicament, the little unicorn’s tone was rather casual. He, like all of Danville, had become accustomed to certain things that most other sapient beings might consider odd.
“Just this whole thing,” Buford said, waving his hoof about. “Every day it’s the same-old, same-old. We come over-”
“Because we’re friends and friends are supposed to hang out in the summer,” Baljeet cut in, only to wither under Buford’s disapproving glower. “Sorry.”
“Phineas makes some declaration about what supernatural thing he and Ferb are going to do today-”
“Supernatural?” Phineas asked.
“Yeah. Supernatural,” affirmed Buford. “Regular foals don’t spend their days finding dodo birds, painting continents, or driving their sisters insane.” That earned him a blank stare from the assembled party. Even Perry, who had been stealthily sneaking off to parts unseen, turned around and leveled a ‘WTF’ expression at the colt who could probably afford lay off the junk food. “What?”
“You might have had a point with the first two,” Isabella replied. “Buuut…”
“What?” Buford set his hoof to his chest, closed his eyes, and conducted his speech with uncharacteristic sophistication. “I’ll have you know that I am a perfect gentlecolt to my sisters, just as they are well-behaved ladies to me.”
A tumbleweed tumbled by as the group continued staring at the gruff colt with incredulity.
“Then…?” Isabella pointed at Baljeet.
“Oh this?” Buford said as if just remembering the smaller unicorn’s predicament and gave the makeshift rope a tug. “I was curious to see if the smell of candy would attract hungry predators that’d carry the little twerp into the sunset, never to be seen again,” he explained with an air of drama. “That way I’d have an excuse to punch something without getting in trouble.”
This explanation was met with a round of relieved sighs from the others. As comfortable as they all were with oddities, there were some lines that even they refused to cross.
“I spent the entire trip here explaining all of the reasons why that sort of thing just can’t happen,” Baljeet added. “First of all-” His words were cut off by another tug on his liquorish rope.
“Yeah, yeah. No one cares,” Buford said, a bit tired of having to go over this issue again. “Point is… Wait. Where was I?” He stroked a hoof under his chin.
“Hmm,” Phineas hummed thoughtfully before sitting up with a start. “That’s it! Ferb. I know what we’re gonna do today.”
“See. Right there!” accused Buford. “Everyday. Like clockwork. So, Phineas,” he said as if conducting an interrogation, sounding as though he doubted that was the colt’s actual name. “What is it this time, huh? Breaking the record for longest liquorish rope? Some sort of elaborate candy factory? Something related to dragging; preferably drag racing?” he added encouragingly, “Or maybe-”
Phineas climbed to all fours to make his trademark declaration of the day’s activities. “We’re going to-”
***
Meanwhile, up in the second story of the Fletcher household, a young earth mare with an unusually long neck was fuming as she stared out the window. Her exceptionally long mane and tail were the same shade of orange as her younger brother Phineas’, although her fur was light beige. She had on a red top with a white skirt that did little to conceal her lack of a cutie mark. At present she was engaging in her favorite pastime/obsession of watching her younger brothers like a creepy stalker.
“I’m telling you, Stacy,” she said into her phone. “Those two are up to something. I can feel it.”
“You sure it’s not indigestion?” asked Stacy over the line. “That’d be an interesting shakeup.”
“This is serious!”
“It always is, Candace,” Stacy replied in exhaustion. “Did you forget what today was?”
“No!” Candace replied defensively, never tearing her eyes from the soon-to-be perpetrators of an egregious and bustable offense. Just the thought of busting those colts to mom – of being vindicated after innumerable attempts of being left the fool after the impossible thing vanished into the void before it could be seen – made her salivate. “Why? What is it?”
Stacy hoped Candace could hear her eye roll over the phone. “We were going out on that date with Jeremy J-”
“Jeremy Johnson!?” Candace exclaimed. She jumped back from the window and began darting her gaze left and right like a spooked prey animal. “Where?”
Stacy snorted. “Right behind you, staring up your skirt,” she said plainly. She laughed when she heard Candace ‘eep’, followed by the sound of tumbling and crashing. Stacy covered her hoof over the bottom of the phone and allowed herself a quiet chuckle at her friend’s expense. “Never fails,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Not funny!” Candace shouted into the phone. She’d spun around so fast that she’d tripped over the rug, knocked over her desk, and fell into an unfortunate series of off-screen pratfalls that resulted in her being tied up in bedsheets and hanging from the ceiling fan. At present she was being spun around in a spin of shame.
“Did you tie yourself to the bed again?” Stacy asked, just a bit too hopefully.
“Ugh. Ceiling fan,” Candace groaned back.
“Then you, my dear Candace,” Stacy explained with the authority of a university professor, “are quite mistaken. This situation, as ever, is hilarious.”
“Why me?” Candace whined.
“It’s probably a karma thing.”
“A what?”
“Karma. You know, the idea that the universe likes to keep itself in balance. I saw a show on it once. Basically what you do always comes back around, so doing good deeds makes good things happen in your life, while doing bad deeds… I think you get the idea.”
Candace hummed thoughtfully, considering Stacy’s words as she worked to free herself from her entanglement. “Karma, huh?”
“Oh Luna’s flank!” Stacy swore. “Please don’t tell me I just inspired some crazy scheme of yours to bust your brothers… again!”
“Actually, kind of the opposite,” Candace conceded.
“Come again?” Stacy asked.
“Maybe later!” Candace and Stacy said in unison and they both shared a laugh. It was one of those inside jokes that the two friends enjoyed.
“But yeah,” Candace continued after the giggles died down. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I’ve done anything all that good all summer.”
“Really?” Stacy asked back. “What about that time you danced for charity?”
“There was a squirrel in my pants,” Candace confessed, groaning at the memory of the rodents tiny claws scratching all over her young and nubile body as she unintentionally executed a series of revolutionary dance moves in an attempt to get it out. “I wouldn’t have even entered that contest otherwise.”
“Reunited those orphans with their families?”
“Does it count if I was being chased by a radioactive bear while wearing those super speed horseshoes I accidentally took from my brothers?”
There was an extended pause as Stacy continued to recall the events of the summer. As Candace was getting at, there always seemed to be some outside force to muddy things up. Karma, she was reasonably certain, was based as much on intent as deed, so doing good by accident probably wasn’t fair to count. “Oh! You foal sat Jeremy’s little sister last week!” Stacy recalled, a hopeful grin on her face. Then the grin faded and her ears folded back as she could practically hear her friend’s deadpan stare over the phone. “Oh, right…” she trailed off uncomfortably. “The… um…”
“The truck war,” Candace reminded flatly.
“The truck war,” Stacy said at almost the same time.
“The one that leveled Jeremy’s house and half the neighborhood. Still not sure how all that was fixed before our moms got back from their dance lessons,” Candace added curiously. “But you see my point. I don’t think I’ve done anything good all summer. I’ve just been busting my flank trying to bust my brothers, which always turns out to be a giant-”
“Bust?” Stacy finished. “… sorry.”
“So… what do I do?” Candace pled, sounding just a bit hopeless as she curled in on herself, ears folded back and tail tucked between her legs.
“Well, there’s still that date with Jeremy,” Stacy reminded. “I’m pretty sure it counts to hang out with your friends and show them you care.”
“Y-you really think so?” Candace asked, daring to let hope return.
“Couldn’t hurt,” Stacy offered honestly. “Worst case scenario, you spend all day hanging out with Jeremy and I and nothing exciting happens.”
The world around Candace grew hazy, shimmering and fading until nothing was left. In its place was a vision that consumed her thoughts. She, Stacy, and Jeremy were sitting at one of those outdoor cafes, sharing drinks and talking about nothing. Then the scene transitioned to the park. A picnic blanket had been set up that she and Stacy had already been sitting at. Jeremy brought the picnic basket, because neither filly could cook to save their lives, and they would all share a laugh over nothing special. The scene transitioned one more time. It was the Fletcher backyard. Candace was sitting against the lone tree, basking under its shade. She was kept warm by the bodies of Jeremy to her left and Stacy to her right. All three of them were drifting off to dreamland after having the most perfect day anyone had ever had in the history of ever. And her brothers were being shipped off to boarding school to add a nice little cherry on top.
Stacy stared down at her watch while keeping the phone to her ear. “Alright. Forty five seconds,” she said to herself. “Candace! You back yet?”
“Hmm. What?” Candace asked.
Stacy could just imagine her friend’s head jerking around while surveying her immediate surroundings for predators. Candace had always been a little jumpy like that. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered.
“Say what now?” Candace asked, once more on high alert.
“I said you’re lucky you’re cute,” repeated Stacy.
“Aww. Thank you,” Candace cooed.
“Yeah. You’re welcome. Now get that flank in gear before Jeremy and I decide to leave you behind.”
“Oh. Right. Got it.”
“Candace. You up yet?” called a voice from the other side of the door.
“Yeah mom,” Candace replied. “What’s up?”
The door opened and in walked a mare with the same color scheme as Candace, only with a much more mature and curvy figure. Her cutie mark depicted a tray of lasagna, steaming as if fresh from the oven. “Just wanted to make sure you remembered your date today.”
“Mooom!” Candace whined. Didn’t her mom know that it was super embarrassing for moms to get involved in their foals’ love lives.
Linda Fletcher grinned at her daughter’s expense. “Tell your brothers I left snacks in the fridge. I’ve got yoga today, but feel free to phone me if you need anything. Make sure you’re back by six thirty.”
Candace heaved a relenting sigh. Just because she was trusted to watch her brothers while the parents were out – not that they needed a foal sitter – didn’t mean she was trusted to stay out late with a boy. Such was the plight of fillies her age. “Sure thing, mom.”
“Oh. That reminds me.” Linda added. “Where’s Perry?”
***
Perry the platypus’ eyes shifted suspiciously as he gauged his surroundings. No one had seem him scuttle off to the part of the yard where no one ever looked at this time of day. Even so, it never hurt to be extra cautious, especially in his particular profession. The platypus – world recognized as the most boring and unimpressive species for never doing anything of interest – stood up on his hind legs and slipped on a fedora. Where he got this fedora was not important, and it was definitely not a matter of national security.
Anyway, now that he was fully dressed, Agent P. smacked his tail to the unassuming wooden wall, hitting the nearly invisible switch. The wall flipped around, taking the platypus with it. Not a trace was left that he’d ever even been there… except for the footprints, shed fur, and other things that are left by living creatures wherever they go all coming to a rather abrupt end, but that probably wasn’t important.
Agent P. was shot through an elaborate series of tubes built beneath Danville. Measuring the distance in his head, he timed his expulsion from the tube just in time to perform a quadrupole back flip, a spin fit for a professional ice skater, a sexy magazine pose, and one last stunt that defied description before settling down comfortably in his chair. All of this occurred while the boring and uninteresting semi-aquatic egg-laying mammal mentally played the theme song he’d imagined for himself.
The room Agent P. found himself in was fairly standard as far as secret spy facilities went. The volume of the entire room could probably have held the entire Fletcher household twice over. The walls were a mix of stark white and gentle blue. Tubes for transport throughout the facility lined the walls. There were also tubes holding water that, as far as Perry was aware, didn’t actually serve any real purpose, except to add to the ambience of the room. In any case, Agent P. sat before a massive computer screen that flickered on.
Major Monogram, as hinted at by the ‘MM’ initials on his green army fest, was an old stallion. His white mane was cut military regulation short, his gray unibrow looked to be in top form this morning, and his beautifully trimmed moustache – so elegant and full that Perry had to force himself not to look directly at it, lest he lose himself in its radiance – was so big that it covered up the lower half of the Major’s face.
“Thank goodness you’re here, Agent P.,” said Major Monogram’s moustache. His ears were flipping about as if he was listening for something. “We’ve just been informed that Dr. Doofenshmirtz has bought up all the shaving cream and electric razors in the tristate area. Fortunately, we at OWCA keep plenty of hair care materials in storage for just such an emergency.” The words of Major Monogram’s moustache sounded like he was quite pleased with himself, but the pained squinting of his eyes suggested he was under some sort of duress.
Agent P. paid this oddity no mind. If Major Monogram were actually being held prisoner, or mind controlled, or in any other kind of trouble, he’d have used any of the six hundred and sixty three special warning signals by now. Major Monogram, as Agent P. had been informed of on his very first day working for OWCA (Organization Without a Cool Acronym), was a little eccentric and like to make weird faces while giving orders in his usual level and authoritative voice. This, like so many other things, was just one more oddity that the citizens of Danville had come to accept as ordinary.
“Anyway,” Major Monogram’s moustache continued, “go see what’s going on. Monogram out.”
Agent P. nodded, his expression the very picture of serious professionalism. With all due haste he made for the top secret and experimental OWCA catapult. He took his position on the… the launch thingy. Agent P. was loathe to admit that he was a little rusty on Medieval siege weaponry. The skylight opened and an automatic mechanism triggered the lever, sending Agent P. flying. He flew right into where a backpack had been conveniently placed, slipping right over his back. He pulled the little rope on the side, allowing the backpack to unfold into a hang glider. From there, he trusted that momentum and a convenient updraft would carry him all the way to his destination.
***
A mare in a construction worker’s uniform moseyed on up to the Fletcher house. Her cutie mark was a stack of planks and, despite not being near any union recognized construction sites, had decided to wear her hard hat. After all, she’d been to the Fletcher house before. Although this would be the first time for the young rookie beside her.
“Hey boss. Why you got your hard hat on?” asked the rookie.
“Because we’re delivering several tons of construction materials to the Fletcher house,” she informed plainly.
“Fletcher house? What’s so special about them?” The rookie looked around the unassuming neighborhood as if expecting to find the answer in the cookie cutter architecture or some hedges or something.
“Well, other than this being the fourth delivery we’ve made to them in three weeks, not all that much to be honest. Ah. There they are.” She motioned to a pair of colts just up ahead.
“Hello Lumber Yard,” Phineas greeted politely.
“Hey Phineas.” Lumber offered the clipboard detailing all materials in the truck parked in the front driveway. “This it? Seems kinda light for your usual stuff.”
“Don’t worry. We’re expecting a couple more deliveries,” assured Phineas as he checked his watch. “They should be here in about five minutes.”
Lumber exhaled her relief. “Oh good. I’d hate to think you boys were getting lazy.”
“Us?” Phineas asked, feigning insult. “Madame, you cut us to the quick.”
“Hold on a sec,” the rookie spoke up. The level of familiarity his boss had with these colts was odd enough, but to know that all of those materials were for a pair of blank flanks, and that more was on the way!? Something fishy was going on. “Ain’t you boys a little young to be purchasing this much construction material?” the rookie asked, ready to do whatever it took to get down to the bottom of this.
“Why yes. Yes we are,” Phineas replied evenly.
The rookie narrowed an accusing glare on the colt. He leaned in close, searching the colt’s eyes for some hidden and nefarious scheme. When he found only wide-eyed innocents, he turned his piercing glower on the second colt. The taller foal just stared back up at the rookie, eyes seemingly empty at first glance. However, a few more seconds revealed to the rookie the briefest glimpse of a hidden depth. These were the eyes of an artist, a foal who was surely destined to go on and do great and spectacular things for the world. So moved was the rookie that he felt his reply needed to be just as concise and poetic as this young colt’s soul.
“Eh. Fine by me.” Nailed it!
As Phineas and Ferb signed away for the deliveries, Isabella and her recently summoned Fireside Fillies used the lift equipment to carry the raw materials to the back yard.
“Couple things,” Buford stated flatly as he watched the heavy machinery traveling back and forth from the backyard. “First of all, how come I wasn’t invited to drive the construction equipment?”
“Not enough machines,” Phineas informed sympathetically. “Also, they’re all going for their ‘operating heavy machinery’ badges.” He gestured at the fillies.
“Also-also,” Isabella added as her forklift hummed by, “you never said you wanted to.”
Buford huffed, sitting on his flanks to allow himself to fold his forelegs in a display of harrumph. “Well maybe I was counting on you guys, my so-called friends, to remember all the times I talked about my dream of wanting to drive the big rigs.”
“When have you ever said that?” Baljeet asked. He was no longer bound up in liquorish, but had still chosen to stay by Buford’s side.
“Lots of times,” Buford insisted. “You probably didn’t hear cuz I’d put you in my patented hyper wedgey.”
“If memory serves, that’s still not a lot of times,” Baljeet informed, hoping to educate his friend. “You only wedgey me about once a week, and only for a few minutes at a time. Even allowing for the premise that being in a hyper wedgey somehow compromises my hearing – which it doesn’t – that still does not leave enough opportunities to speak of this so-called dream of driving big rigs without my hearing it. Also, a big rig refers to a delivery truck, not the kind of machinery commonly seen on construction sites.”
With slow deliberation, Buford turned towards Baljeet. He leveled the flattest, most withering stare he’d ever leveled at anyone in his life, communicating only with his eyes that the little Windian had done goofed. “So, what your saying is…” Buford paused for dramatic effect, “that you don’t think I’ve been wedgeying you hard enough. Is that what I’m hearing?”
Baljeet made a quiet ‘meep’ in the back of his throat and fixed his eyes forward, away from Buford. “I’ll just be quiet now.”
“Yeah. You do that,” Buford growled.
“Nice work ladies,” Phineas said as he took inventory of all the assembled materials. “Looks like that’s everything.”
“That really is a lot of stuff,” commented scout Ginger, Stacy’s younger sister. “What are you building today, anyway?”
“Yeah. I kind of missed that too,” scout Gretchen added. “Isabella just told us to come over for a chance at some merit badges, but was kinda vague on the details.”
“Which brings me to thing two of three,” Buford spoke up.
“I thought it was just two things?” Isabella asked.
“It’s three now,” Buford clarified. “Second of all, where do you guys get the money to buy all this stuff, anyhow? It’s not like you’re rich or anything.” He paused to think it over. “You’re not rich, are you?”
“Us? Of course not,” Phineas replied evenly. “That might be the silliest thing I’ve heard all day.”
“Alright then,” Buford replied, annoyed at the evasion. “So how do you afford all this stuff?”
“Simple,” Phineas began good-naturedly. “We just-”
A herd of llamas stampeded down the street, making a terrible ruckus as they went.
“-which we bury in the-”
A small army of llama wranglers chased the stampeding herd, making a further ruckus.
“-and after we’ve let it soak in gelatin for about five days, we-”
Now both the llamas and llama wranglers were stampeding the other way down the street. Hot on their hooves was the local middle school band. They weren’t chasing the llamas and llama wranglers, but the bagpipes they were playing was enough to terrorize both groups back from whence they came.
“-which isn’t always reliable.” Phineas gestured behind him. “That’s why we stuff the sour cabbage up my-”
A group of banditos charged down the street, hooping and randomly firing their guns in the air.
“-and I can’t stress enough how important it is to run in serpentine when that happens.” This earned nods of quiet understanding from the others. Their summer had been interesting enough for them all to learn this lesson quite well. “So then we take the sacrificial goat’s blood to bed and-”
A group of mariachis on horseback trailed casually down the road, playing a relaxed road trip song on their guitars.
“-in a castle far away where no one can hear you-”
And then, following the same route as the banditos and mariachis, a group of sentient waffles bounced on pogo sticks. Leading them was a teenage colt with brown stripes over maroon fur and wearing brown shorts. “I have no idea how this happened,” he said evenly, not wanting to raise his voice and cause unnecessary damage to his larynx.
“-and then sit on it.” Phineas emphasized his explanation by sitting on a patch of grass, finishing his tale. “And that’s how we pay for all these amazing projects. Did that make sense? I can draw up a flowchart if it helps.”
Isabella was fanning herself with her wing. “I love it when you talk technical.”
Buford scratched his chin in thought. “Huh. Ya know that really does make sense. Thanks for explaining in such simple and universal terms that in no way make me feel patronized.” He then looked out the corner of his eye at Baljeet. “Unlike some ponies I could name.”
Baljeet flinched back.
“Any time, Buford,” replied Phineas. At the sound of a blowtorch being activated, he then turned around to find Ferb already at work on the construction. “No fair, Ferb! Don’t start without me,” he called as he ran up to his brother.
“Sorry, but I didn’t want to interrupt such an elegantly worded explanation,” replied Ferb in his Trottingham accent.
“Glad that’s out of the way,” Buford said. “I’d thought about that question a few weeks ago and it’s been bugging me ever since.”
“It really has,” Baljeet agreed. “He’s lost many hours of sleep contemplating this issue which, in hindsight, seems pretty obvious.”
No one asked how Baljeet knew of Buford’s lost sleep. It was so obvious it wasn’t even worth mentioning.
“Which finally brings me to thing number three,” Buford continued. “How did we get here,” he pointed in the general direction of the construction materials that were now being assembled into something grand, “from liquorish?”
“What do you mean?” Gretchen asked.
“It was before you got here. I was just saying how every day seems to follow the same formula of someone making some offhooved comment that inevitably leads to these two making some super thing. I mentioned liquorish and, like clockwork, Phineas knows what he’s doing today.”
“Yeah,” Gretchen agreed thoughtfully. “That does happen a lot, huh.”
“But this,” Buford again pointed at the raw materials that were being shaped into something much more defined. “How did we get here from liquorish? Someone wanna explain that to me?”
“Oh. I think I know this one,” offered Baljeet. “You see, it starts out with-”
***
“Ah,” Candace sighed in blissful contentment. “Now this is what summer is all about.”
“Amen, sister,” cheered Stacy. She was a pegasus with aqua fur, a long black mane and tail, and wore a blue skirt and bow. Her cutie mark was a pair of hooves holding one another in a show of support.
Both teenage fillies had found a spot on a hill overlooking the Danville Park Lake. The spot had an excellent view, as well as a tree that provided just the right amount of shade, just like Candace’s vision. But the real beauty of the scene came from the radiant hunk with the most beautiful name to ever be bestowed onto undeserving mortal flesh.
“Jeremy Johnson,” Candace swooned as she took in the masterpiece of his form.
The young stallion had peach fur with a ruffled blond mane and tail. His cutie mark was an ice-cream cone; a somewhat deceptive cutie mark as his selling ability wasn’t exclusive to any one food item. He wore his signature green jacket and brown undershirt as he laid out the picnic he’d prepared. Well, maybe ‘prepared’ was too strong a word. What he’d brought consisted primarily of leftovers from his various summer jobs, mostly related to food vending. The vegie dogs and nachos were still good, provided they were properly reheated, but they’d all been rendered visually unappealing, making them unsellable. Jeremy was a diligent enough employee that he was able to talk his various bosses into selling these rejects to him on the cheap. Jeremy was so thoughtful like that, never wanting anything to go to waste. That was just one of the countless qualities Candace loved about him.
“Is, uh, she alright?” Jeremy asked Stacy as he looked into Candace’s distant, unresponsive eyes.
“Oh don’t mind her. She’s just off to la-la land,” Stacy replied evenly.
“She do this a lot?”
Stacy chuckled. “If she got frequent flyer miles, we’d be able to take a world tour for free.”
Jeremy blinked, his usual easy going grin replaced with worry. “Is that healthy?” He waved a hoof in front of Candace’s face. No response. “I don’t think that’s healthy.”
“Well, there is this thing I do to bring her back after she’s gone for too long,” Stacy offered with a mischievous glint in her eye.”
Jeremy blinked. “I find myself both wary of danger, but also compelled to find out more.”
Stacy grinned her approval and motioned Jeremy to come forward. She whispered her plan and had to suppress another giggle when she saw how red his cheeks had gone.
“Seriously?” he whispered.
“Deadly,” she assured. “Now hurry up and do it before she goes too far and we never get her back.” Stacy’s tone was full of mirth as she motioned the young stallion on. Although she considered Jeremy something of a simple stallion, she had to admit that was part of his appeal. What you see is what you get. He didn’t toy with his mares’ emotions or try to leverage his position as a rare male in a sea of females to make outlandish demands. He was just a nice guy who was super fun to hang out with. Also, with the kind of weirdness that went on at Candace’s house, Stacy understood her friend’s longing for a bit of stability in her life. Also-also, as he turned around to follow Stacy’s instructions, she got an eyeful of certain other qualities he possessed.
Note to self, Stacy thought. Start a petition to ban guys from wearing pants.
Jeremy stood over Candace, casting his shadow upon her blissful yet oblivious expression. He turned around one last time to make sure he’d heard Stacy right. When she gave an ear-to-ear grin and motioned him to go on, he understood the depth of his mistake. Stacy wasn’t being serious, but insistent. Jeremy affirmed his commitment to better understanding nomenclature, but that would have to wait for later. For now, he had something important to do. Steadying his breathing, Jeremy decided to treat his girlfriend appointed task like removing a bandage and just get it over with. He bent down and gave Candace’s ear a playful nip.
Candace snapped back to reality immediately, but had not yet realized it. In reality, Jeremy’s face wasn’t usually so close to hers. She could smell the shampoo he’d used, taste his breath, see each individual hair adorning his sun-kissed face, and hear the thudding of his heartbeat… which sounded an awful lot like the drummer of a rock band going off the rails and suddenly trying for a solo. Then again, that was probably her heart.
Regaining a modicum of cognitive ability, Candace pressed her hoof to her chest to double check. Yup. It was her heart that was currently trying to bust its way out of her ribcage.
‘Do it’ Stacy mouthed as she watched the pair initiate the most intense staring contest in recorded history. She knew that Candace had had a thing for Jeremy since grade school. The way the young earth mare would talk the pegasi’s ear off about him was hard to ignore. Unfortunately, Candace always went cotton mouthed whenever it came time to actually talk to the guy. That was why Stacy, thoroughly fed up with her friend stressing out to the point of obsession, had to be the one to broach the subject so the three of them could start dating.
All things considered, now that they were officially together, Candace was actually pretty good around Jeremy most of the time. She could strike up casual conversation, no longer felt the need to laugh awkwardly at everything he said, and most recently had managed not to freeze up like a deer in the headlights whenever they touched tails. This, Stacy realized as she watched the scene before her, would most certainly be the next step in their relationship. And once Candace’s confidence had been built up, the three of them would be able to move on to… other things. Stacy leaned forward, licking her lips in anticipation. If one or both of them could just nut up and find the will to close the distance between their faces…
*BWAAAM* The unearthly sound sent tremors through the ground and air, alerting all to the coming oddity, and snapping any would-be love birds out of any romantic stupors they happened to be in.
“Oh come on!” Stacy exclaimed.
***
Meanwhile, at Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc.
Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz cackled maniacally to himself as he placed the finishing touches on his latest creation. It was tricky business, since he had to do all kinds of fine tuning while under the darkness of the blanket that covered said creation, but he managed just the same. He wore a white lab coat, which frequently got him mistaken for a pharmacist, and had a tiny brown mane that bore a slight resemblance to a weed ready to be plucked.
“Why are you working under a blanket again?” Vanessa Doofenshmirtz was a unicorn, just like her father. Thankfully, genetics is not always a cruel mistress, which allowed the young mare to take more after her mother. Amongst other things, her muzzle was soft and petite, in contrast to the thing on her father’s face that looked more like a beak. She had peach fur, a dark brown mane and tail, and wore her signature black jumpsuit. Knowing that she was going to be spending the day with her father, she’d come prepared with a few magazines to read while waiting for the inevitable to happen.
“Oh Vanessa,” bemoaned Heinz in his gravelly Drusselsteinian accent. “What are they teaching you in schools these days?”
“Well, given that this is summer,” Vanessa began, never looking up from her magazine, “not that much.”
“Even so.” Heinz pulled himself out from under the blanket and stared with forlorn disappointment at his daughter. “First of all, don’t call it a blanket. No, it doesn’t matter that I pulled it off my bed this morning,” he added before his daughter could fling such an irrelevant detail at him. “An-and second of all,” he stammered a moment in befuddlement as he tried to think of a way to explain what, in his profession, was just so painfully obvious. “It’s for the dramatic reveal, you know? See, here’s how it works.”
Vanessa managed to find the willpower to look up from her engaging read, which had absolutely no dirty pictures in it, to see what her father was up to.
“First of all, Perry the Platypus will come in about here,” Heinz said as he gestured at a spot on the floor. “He thinks he’s clever breaking into my office from a different place every time; instead of, you know, doing the civilized thing and coming through the front door.” He motioned as he spoke.
“Someone ought to teach him some manners,” Vanessa replied, pretending to be engaged.
“Tell me about it,” Heinz agreed with a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, Perry the Platypus thinks he’s so clever. But what he doesn’t know is that, after years of being arch enemies, I’ve accumulated a rich, uh,” he paused to think of the right word. “Tapestry? Deposit? Repository? Whatever. I’ve accumulated a vast array – oh, that’s good – of knowledge of his behavior, which I’ve plugged into a formula – also of my own design – that allows me to predict exactly where Perry the Platypus will enter, with a four inch margin for error.” He beamed smugly, ready to bask in the praise for his amazing brilliance.
“Hold on. You’ve created a formula that predicts your enemy’s every move?” Vanessa asked, sounding genuinely impressed.
“I most certainly have,” Heinz beamed.
“Then how come Perry-”
“Perry the Platypus,” Heinz cut in. “Just because we’re mortal enemies who try to kill each other on a daily basis, that’s no excuse to ignore professional courtesy.” Heinz felt quite pleased with himself for being such a good parent and teaching his daughter all of these valuable life lessons.
Vanessa rolled her eyes. “If you’ve got a formula that predicts his movements,” she stressed in a micro fit of teen rebellion, “then how come he keeps beating you? Can’t you just create a more elaborate series of traps that follows what he’s going to do next instead of, you know, just the one?” She pointed up at the ceiling where today’s trap was hidden from view. She then quickly averted her gaze, blushing at just the thought of what was coming for poor Perry.
Heinz shook his head. “Oh Vanessa, Vanessa, Vanessa. You still have so much to learn about the fine art of super villainy.”
“Don’t we all,” she remarked sarcastically.
Just then, a certain platypus in a fedora rode in on a hang glider through the open balcony of Doofenshmirtz’s building. Said platypus then slipped out of his hang glider and fell to the ground in a classic hero pose.
“Ah, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz greeted with a nefarious grin. “How unexpected. And by ‘unexpected’, I of course mean,” surprisingly quick on the draw, the stallion dressed as a pharmacist extracted a remote with two buttons from his coat and pointed it at his enemy, “booby trap!” He pressed the top button.
There was the sound of something metallic and heavy unlocking, followed by a distinct whistle of something falling. It fell, and fell… and fell… Perry, quite confused by this turn of events, relaxed his fighting pose and joined the others in looking up to see what was happening.
“Huh. Did my ceiling get higher?” Heinz asked no one in particular. The whistling continued on. “Do ceilings actually get taller? I’m being serious here.” Both Perry and Vanessa stared in befuddlement at the doctor, uncertain of how to answer. “I mean, if gaudy castles can just spawn spontaneously out of random boxes… all I’m saying is there’s a lot of weirdness in this world to keep account of.”
Then, with a wet *plop*, the trap finally hit. Perry the Platypus had been pinned to the ground by a thing that looked strikingly like a beanbag, but was most certainly not one. Perry tried to wiggle himself free, but whatever the contents of this bag was, it seemed to follow his every movement, affixing itself to him until he was rendered completely immobile. The only part of him that could still move was his fedora wearing head, which had conveniently managed to escape being mushed.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Heinz cackled maniacally. “You-you see what I did there, Perry the Platypus?” he asked, still tittering at the humor of the moment. “I said booby trap. Booby,” he snorted at the juvenile joke. “You know, because this is a modified sand bag, like the kind mares use to get bigger… well you know.”
Perry leveled a stare of merciless disappointment upon his long time enemy. He shook his head, surprising all with his silent confession of having come to expect better from the mad scientist.
Heinz rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. There really was no pretending his way out of this one. “Yeah. I know. But just hear me out on this, Perry the Platypus.”
“Does he really have to say the whole thing every time?” Vanessa asked the incapacitated agent.
“Ktktktktktktkt,” was Perry’s concise and eloquent reply.
“Huh. I guess I never thought of it that way before,” Vanessa admitted. Although generally a platypus of few words, she knew that Perry could be quite the convincing orator when he wanted. “Well, carry on, I guess.”
“Thank you, Vanessa,” Heinz said, turning back to his trapped nemesis. “It’s like this, Perry the Platypus. You know how some studios like to sneak in more adult jokes in their programming, so they throw all kinds of, well, questionable content into the script to throw the censors off track?”
Perry continued leveling a disapproving stare at the doctor. He still had not forgiven the old stallion for this particularly egregious humiliation.
Heinz pursed his lips. “Yeah. I guess we’re the only ones doing that,” he admitted. “Anyway, the writers had this really amazing idea for a more adult joke and this,” he gestured at the bag, “was one of those meant to distract the censors. And… I’m not really sure what happened. Maybe someone was asleep when they should have been working? There’s gonna be some kind of investigation, I can tell you that. The point is that, against all odds, this joke managed to slip past the crown sanctioned guardians of morality,” he said with the utmost contempt, “and so now we’re stuck with it. Believe me when I say you have my most sincere apologies, Perry the Platypus.”
After hearing the sincerity of Dr. Doofenshmirtz’s words, Perry eventually relented and gave the stallion a reluctant nod.
Heinz sighed his relief. “Oh thank you, Perry the Platypus. You-you have no idea what a relief that is for me.” He walked on past his hated nemesis to a computer station and began fiddling with the controls. “On the plus side, you’re gonna love the joke the writers actually wanted us to have,” he chuckled. “I don’t-I don’t want to give anything *snort* away, but trust me,” he chortled, “it’s gonna be great.”
“Well, here comes the backstory,” groaned Vanessa. “Think I’ll head to the bathroom for this one.” Walking past Perry, she stretched out as she yawned, accidentally dropping a her hoof filer mere centimeters from Perry’s beak. He gave her a stoic nod of appreciation, which she returned with a wink before leaving the main lab.
“Behold, Perry the Platypus,” Dr. Doofenshmirtz began, throwing a switch that caused the not-blanket to lift from his latest creation, fulfilling its indispensable purpose of adding to the dramatic effect. The device was a giant electric shaver, plus a few extra bells and whistles. “The Shave-Inator,” the doctor continued. “Now I bet your wondering what I’m planning on doing with a giant shaving machine, ay, Perry the Platypus?”
Perry, after hiding the file by pressing his cheek down to the floor, shrugged. He rarely had any idea why Doofenshmirtz did anything. Honestly, he felt Vanessa had the right idea in making herself scarce for this part.
“Well, it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that lawn gnomes made a rather significant portion of my foalhood traumas. I’ve told you about this, right?”
Perry rolled his eyes. He’d been told so many times he was reasonably certain he should sign a petition to make the telling of one’s enemies about lawn gnome based trauma as an unethical form of torture.
“Right. Good. Well, as is well understood in Drusselstein, but less so in the rest of the world, gnomes and similar fae abominations derive their power from their beards. That’s why Drusselstein has very strict shaving laws. If they catch you with so much as peach fuzz, which they think means you’re trying to tap into the gnomes’ evil power, you get tarred, feathered, and… it only gets more gruesome from there. Y-you really don’t want to know what happens next. Thankfully I’ve managed to repress most of those memories,” he rambled. “Unfortunately, while I was out getting my morning coffee, I saw some teenage colt with… with…” Heinz shook in revulsion of the dreaded memory of just a few hours ago. “It was just so… gross!”
Perry blinked. As Heinz had been speaking, the secret agent had been using the file to cut a hole in the bag to drain out its gooey fluid. However, he had to do a double take at this unexpected turn in the backstory.
“Don’t you just hate that?” Heinz continued. “These colts today have no sense of self-respect or personal hygiene. Drusselsteinian punishments might be a little on the harsh side, but at least they taught us how to not look like… like we had cocoanuts on our chins. Nasty.” He shook his head.
“So, that’s where the Shave-Inator comes in, killing two birds with one stone,” Heinz explained matter-of-factly. “I deal a death blow to all peach fuzz in the tristate area, and maybe teach those young punks some manners,” he grumbled out the side of his mouth, “and I deal a crippling blow to the gnomes. Hopefully it’ll be enough for them to hold off on their imminent invasion while I think of a more long term solution to protect the tristate area. You know, so I can take it over myself.”
Perry knew Heinz to be an angry and easily distracted, but he was never mad. As such, the agent made a mental note to inform his superiors to increase surveillance of the tristate area; which was perfectly legal and in no way violated any constitutional rights… as far as the public was aware. If Heinz said that gnomes were invading, the OWCA needed to be ready.
And then Vanessa, in a display of both the best and worst possible timing, came out of the bathroom.
*BWAAAM*
Both stallion and platypus stared at the mare in disbelief. Neither male knew whether or not to be impressed or grossed out as their bones continued to resonate with the aftershocks of the terrible sound.
“That wasn’t me,” Vanessa insisted, but it was clear neither of them believed her. “Not cool, guys,” she grumbled her embarrassment.