//------------------------------// // The Present is Strange 1 // Story: Tales from the Cosmos Eccentric // by RB_ //------------------------------// Pinkie had seen a lot of weird things in her time. Actually, she saw weird things all the time. She had a lot of eyes. As such, she didn’t so much as flinch when the toad in the purple sportcoat and the tophat walked through the doors of Sugarcube Corner and sauntered up to the counter. It was a little weird that everyone else was flinching for once, though. “Hello!” she said, smiling. “Welcome to Sugarcube Corner! Assuming that you are, in fact, actually here.” “Well, where else would I be?” the toad said. He spoke in a high-Canterlot accent, or something like one. Actually, he sounded a bit like Fancy Pants. Leaning over, Pinkie confirmed that, no, he wasn’t wearing any. “Elsewhere!” she replied. “Well, the sign over the door didn’t say ‘Elsewhere’,” the toad said. “It said ‘Sugarcube Corner’. Where is Here?” “Here is here, of course. The one and only Sugarcube Corner!” The toad croaked happily. “Then I must be here! The sign said so!” “Then welcome to here!” Pinkie said back, equally as cheerful. “And since you are here, and not anywhere else, what can I get for you, Mr. Toad?” “I’ll take your finest baklava, if you’d be so kind. You do stock baklava, don’t you?” “Only the best this side of Over There!” She slid over to the display case, which did, in fact, contain a baklava. She’d baked it this morning; she’d had a funny feeling when she’d woken up that someone was going to ask for one. Of course, she’d been expecting a pony, not a toad. Ever the conscientious baker, however, the thought of this newest customer’s dietary requirements was first on her mind. “Do you want flies on that, Mr. Toad? There’s always some big, juicy ones flying around by the trash cans out back!” “Good heavens, no!” the toad exclaimed. “On a baklava? What kind of toad do you take me for?” “A very strange one!” She rung him up. Croaking happily, he took his baklava to one of the tables by the window, to the continued stares of everyone else in the bakery. Well, that was no fun; how was anypony supposed to eat a baklava with an audience? Moving her right front hoof courtwise and her left front hoof in a direction that didn’t actually have a name (she was pretty sure), she mumbled a few words in an ancient language that her mother had taught her as a filly. “Stopio edrych, os gwelwch yn dda.” One by one, the other eaters turned back to their food and their company, and the toad took a big, satisfied bite out of the desert. Pinkie smiled. There were supposed to be things in life that couldn’t be solved with a well-placed perception filter, but it sure didn’t feel that way sometimes. A new customer stepped up to the counter, and thoughts of the toad faded from her mind. After all, weirder things had happened. “Dad, please! Miss Cheerilee is going to be mad if I’m late again!” Winter ‘Bloo’ Bell had had weirder mornings. Actually, this particular routine had become somewhat commonplace over the last few months—but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. “Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady,” Noteworthy said. He was currently standing between his daughter and the front door to their house. “You know the rules.” “Yeah! I do!” Winter Bell retorted. “And one of them is, ‘Get to school on time’!” “And you will get to school on time,” Noteworthy said. “With me walking you there.” “Dad, come on!” “It’s not up for discussion, Winter Bell!” Bell shook her head. “C’mon, dad, it’s embarrassing! None of the other fillies have to have their dad walk them to school!” “Yes, and none of the other fillies have the ability to warp reality, either.” “Right,” Winter Bell said. “So if anything, I’m more prepared to walk to school by myself!” Noteworthy sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his muzzle. “Bell, you know why I’m doing this.” “Yeah, I do,” Winter Bell shot back. “And it’s stupid! I can walk myself to school, dad! I’m not a little filly anymore!” “Bell, you’re thirteen—” Winter Bell cut him off with a stamp of her hoof. “That’s it! We’re done here!” She focused inwards, on the song of her soul, and began to play a chord. A low, lingering note began to build as the air around her distorted. Now her dad looked cross. “Winter Bell, don’t you dare tele—” Space warped, reality bent, and suddenly Winter Bell was gone, leaving Noteworthy alone in the house. “—port.” He sighed. “I am so going to ground her for this.” “He is so going to ground me for that.” What she’d done wasn’t exactly teleporting, really. Teleporting implied moving from one place to another near-instantaneously. Winter Bell hadn’t done that; in fact, she hadn’t moved an inch. The space around her, however… The distinction wasn’t really important, but Bell had always thought that her way was cooler. The place she had not-teleported to was an alley between two houses off Ponyville’s main thoroughfare, a few streets over from her house. This wasn’t her first time making use of it—it was hard to find a secluded spot in Ponyville, and ponies might get suspicious if they saw a filly not-teleporting. At least here she could be reasonably certain she’d be alone. Well, as alone as she ever was. I didn’t teach you to warp space just so you could avoid your father, you know. “Then what did you teach me to teleport for?” Bell replied, stepping towards the mouth of the alley. She poked her head out, made sure no one was looking too closely, and slipped onto the thoroughfare. A series of colours and sounds flashed through her mind. “Yeah, I know he’s just worried about me,” Winter Bell said. More colours. “And I was scared, too!” Winter Bell said. “But Hollyleaf is gone now! Lyra sent her packing, like, six months ago!” Yes, but that doesn’t mean that someone else couldn’t try. He just wants to make sure you don’t get hurt, sweetheart. “And what’s he gonna do if someone tries to jump us? Nag them to death?” That’s not fair to your father. “Well, he’s not being very fair to me, either.” Is it really so bad to just let him walk you to school? Bell rolled her eyes. “Yes! Obviously!” I fail to see why. “Yeah, well maybe if you—” Bell’s thought was interrupted, however, as someone galloping the other way down the street clipped her shoulder, sending her staggering to the side. Are you alright? “I’m fine,” Bell muttered, catching herself. She spun around and immediately spotted her assailant. She recognized him; he was one of the colts from her class, and he hadn’t even slowed down. “Hey, Coil Feint!” she yelled after the retreating colt. “Where are you going? School’s this way!” The colt just hurried along. Winter Bell stared after him for a few moments. Do you want to go after him? Bell shook her head. “Nah. He’ll be fine. Besides, we’re already running late.” After all, who cared if some random colt from her class decided to skip that day? She’d had weirder mornings. “Bye mom! I’m off to school!” “Have a great day, Muffin!” Ditzy Doo shouted back from the kitchen. “I will!” She heard the door pull closed. Ditzy sighed. Today was going to be weird. She didn’t usually take days off during the week, but the postmaster had insisted. Some silliness about labor laws. But with Dinky at school, Amethyst currently in Canterlot, and Dezzy not due to reappear for another two weeks, she wasn’t really sure what she was going to do with herself. Maybe she’d visit Time Turner later. The half-mad stallion’s workshop was always a good place to start when one needed a little more ‘electricity’ in their day. First, though, she needed to put away the laundry. She finished stacking up the morning’s breakfast dishes in the sink and headed into their little living room. She’d brought the laundry in off the line earlier in the morning; the small, folded pile waited for her in the basket, which sat beside the green sofa that she sometimes liked to nap on. It wasn’t a very large pile, as one might expect, just her mailmare uniform, a couple of bedsheets, a towel, and one of Dinky’s tiny dresses. Picking the basket up with a wing, she slid it onto her back for easy carrying. Her daughter’s room was the closest, being just off the main hall of their little bungalow. The door was closed; this got her to raise an eyebrow. But she shrugged (not too hard, lest she disturb the basket) and pushed it open with her head. Ditzy rolled her eyes as she stepped carefully over a small pile of Dinky’s toys that had built up on the floor, one of many. How many times had she told her daughter to clean her room, now? She was certain it had to be in the double digits, at least. Treading gently, she made her way over to the closet, a little thing with sliding doors inset into the wall. She reached for the door with a wing, and, in the ghostly parallel she’d so become accustomed to, watched it being pulled open mere seconds from now, revealing… She froze, wingtips just brushing the handle. The basket tumbled off of her back, spilling its contents onto the floor as she stepped back, away from the closet, trying to process what she was seeing. The potential future she’d been watching changed. It now showed the closet door being thrown open, rocking on its sliding track, revealing… Ditzy let this one play out, once she’d confirmed that nothing bad was going to happen if she did. Stepping forward, she threw the closet door open, sending it rocking on its sliding track, revealing… …that the clothes and their hangers that should have been inside had been dumped unceremoniously to the floor, giving her a full view of the tunnel that now sat where the back wall was meant to be. A tunnel, walls a red and black checkerboard that seemed to stretch on forever, that lead straight on at a level altitude from the outside wall of the house. The corners of Ditzy’s mouth turned ever so slightly upwards. Maybe today wasn’t going to be quite so boring after all.