I wake up, sweating bullets, with Whisk shaking me. “Anon! Anon, are you alright?” She asks.
“W-what? What?” I ask. She stops to look me in the eyes as I look around. I’m in my plain old bedroom, with the blankets off of me and on the floor. The lights are on, allowing me to see that Whisk is lying right next to me, like normal, except panicky.
“What happened? Did you have a nightmare?” Whisk asks worriedly.
“What do you mean?” I say, slurring slightly from exhaustion, not really fully awake. I strain to keep my eyes open as the light assaults me.
“Anon, you were rolling around just a moment ago, mumbling. What happened?” She asks again. I take a moment as I register what she’s said before my mind starts reeling back. Shit. I had another nightmare again. I clear my throat.
“N-nothing-“
“Don’t lie to me,” Whisk says, furrowing her brows. “What. Happened.” I look at her eyes for a few more moments before sighing.
“It’s something Luna’s helping me with, don’t worry about it,” I say. Technically, I’m not lying. Yes, Luna’s helping me, by interrupting the dream here and there, but she’s not always able to come. She’s trying though.
“How can I not worry about it when you sound like someone’s about to murder you!?” She whisper-shouts. “Can you please tell me?”
“... Look, I’m fine,” I say, cracking a smile. “See, I’m fine. No cuts, no scratches. Nothing’s wrong.” Whisk sighs in exasperation.
“I’m not asking if you have scratches,” Whisk says. She inches over to me before laying against me, hugging me. “I’m asking what’s wrong.” I sit up, silent. “... Please, I’ve noticed you haven’t been the same since you woke up from the hospital a few weeks ago. I just want to know what’s wrong.”
“... And I’m telling you,” I softly say. “It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. Luna’s helping me through it, so I’ll be fine.”
“Can I help?” She asks, still hugging.
“You’re already helping,” I reassure.
“...” She pulls away to show that she’s starting to cry. “... I’ve never seen you panic,” she says. “I’ve seen you happy, I’ve seen you frustrated, but I have never seen you afraid.” She looks at me with genuine concern and worry, making my heart break.
“Well, it’ll be fine Whisk. It’ll be fine,” I reassure, patting her head. She kind of leans into my hand, holding it in place with a claw. “Hey, tell you what’ll make me feel better,” I start, making her perk up a little. “I’m kinda hungry for waffles, and it’s a little early. Want to cook breakfast for me?” She continues staring at me with a concerned face before cracking a weak, small smile. She let’s go of my hand to respond.
“Promise you’ll feel better?” She asks.
“For the time it takes to eat the waffles. If you want me to stay happy, I’ll require some coffee,” I say, smirking. She chuckles softly.
“Fine, want some syrup?” She asks. I nod, smiling a little. However, before either of us could move, a scroll pops into existence with a small flash. It plops between Whisk and I, making us blink.
“Dafuq?” I mutter, picking it up. I light up the room and read the scroll.
Dear Anonymous the Human, and Whisk Bacon,
It is my honor to ask the both of you (again) to attend the Grand Galloping Gala. A private carriage will be sent and waiting for you both at the train station in Canterlot on the day of the Gala. Princess Luna specifically requires your presence. Please try to arrive two hours early.
From, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
PS: Don’t worry, you won’t be in the spotlight.
I look at this letter with complete and utter confusion. What is that sunbutt up to? “What’s wrong?” Whisk asks.
“... We’re getting a private carriage to the Gala,” I say. Whisk looks taken aback, but shakes her head.
“Wait, hold on, what?” She asks.
“Princess Luna wants us to meet with her in private, and we’re getting a private ride.”
“... Anon, are you sure you’re going to go?” Whisk asks. “You know that the princesses can’t actually force us to go, right? We can decline.”
“... Well, that’s what I was going to do, but if this is a private meeting, we might actually need to go,” I mutter. “When Luna says ‘private’, she means that no one should know what she doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Oh. Um, so what does that mean for us?” Whisk asks. I process what I know for a few seconds before replying to her question.
“I think it’s her way of telling me that Celestia’s being legit,” I say. “Meaning I won’t be a political move. Good.” I smirk a little. Whisk nods, following my train of thought.
“So, does that mean you’re okay with going?” She asks. I nod. She smiles and hugs me. “That’s good, and if you want to leave the Gala at any point, we’ll leave, okay?” I nod, hugging back. “Now, let’s make those waffle,” Whisk says, breaking the hug to get up. “I’m sure we’re both hungry,” she says, giggling as she walks out...
I groan as I walk into the office building of the Checkpoint. Clipper is already working on letters at her desk. “Morning Clipper, I got a new task for you,” I say. I can see her deflate a little at the sound of more work. “You see the cabinets behind your desk?” I ask. Clipper quirks an eyebrow and looks behind her to see four different filing cabinets.
“When did we get those?” She asks. I snicker.
“Always had them, but we rarely ever need to pull something from them,” I say. Clipper looks at me in confusion as I walk up.
“Here’s your new task, which is to be done as well as sorting letters,” I say. Clipper gulps and nods, allowing me to continue. “Whenever I write out payments or fines for something that has to do with the Border, we get receipts. Of course, we get a lot of receipts.” I point at the cabinet on the far left. “This cabinet’s for receipts having to do with structural stuff. Stuff like repairs on the wall, repairs on surrounding buildings, repairs for utilities, etcetera,” I explain. I point at the next one. “This cabinet’s for payments towards guards and other personnel.” I move over to the next one. “This cabinet is for files that have records of other ponies paying us for the capture of criminals.”
“That’s oddly specific,” Clipper comments.
“Yeah, it is,” I say. I point at the final cabinet. “This one’s for payments from the government, or from other sources.”
“Wait, what other sources?” Clipper asks in confusion.
“Well, sometimes someone who passes through the Border requires protection, like a royal noble or a merchant with valuable items. They might need protection from our guards, and thus pay the Border for temporary protection in Manehatten,” I elaborate. “This isn’t a widely known service, so you might not see many of those types of payments.” Clipper nods in acknowledgement.
“Okay, I think I understand,” she says.
“Cool. Just remember,” I stop to point at the cabinets in order again. “Building, Ponies, Criminals, and Service.” Clipper nods, smiling a little.
“Okay, that doesn’t seem to hard,” she says. I nod, smiling.
“Great, you should be fine,” I say. I look at the clock and sigh. “Looks like I need to start the day. Good luck Clipper.” With a small wave, I head out to the my normal office. Walking outside, I can certainly feel the sun’s heat already. I groan before pulling out a cigarette. Normally, fall weather would come up around now, this early in September, but it’s scheduled to be a little late this year for some reason. I’m guessing it’s because of the war. I light my cancer stick and start smoking. I sigh and continue to walk. I open the door to my normal office, and step inside, closing it behind me. I meant to smoke earlier, but I forgot about it. I know it’s against the rules to smoke in here, but fuck it. Smoking calms me down, and I kinda want to calm down. I sit in my swivel seat, and lean towards the mic. “Next!” I look up at the clock to see I’m just on time. The first entrant to come in is a red furred griffon with big black spots all over him. His feathers are yellow. His head is covered by a bowl hat. He walks up and hands me his papers wordlessly. “Wow, strong silent type eh?” I ask, opening his papers.
“Look, just let me go through,” he says tiredly, in a Russian accent. I look at his passport and stop. Bullshivic? Where have I heard that name before? I suddenly think to check my pocket. I reach into my pockets and pull out a note I had scribbled on. ‘Bullshivic’. I hum in interest as I remember my promise to the mafia. I glance at the weight scale to see he’s heavier than he’s supposed to be. I grimace.
“Turn to the scanner fuckboi,” I say. He blinks in confusion before a set of curtains closes. A couple of flashes sound out before the curtains open as a picture prints out. I take the photos and look to see a pack of drugs in sitting in his hat. “Well well, looks like someone done fucked up,” I say. His eyes turn to pinpricks as I start to press the detain button.
“Wait!” He calls. I stop and look at him with impatience, puffing smoke out through my nose. “W-what if I have bribe?”
“Try again,” I say.
“Do you want drugs?!”
“Nope.”
“What will it take to not go to jail?” He asks. I take drag out of my cig, and lean back as I breathe it out.
“Got a reason for carrying drugs?” I ask. I already know why, but I’m curious as to what he’ll say.
“I have little babies to feed! Wife is sick!”
“Hm. Cool motive, still illegal,” I say, crossing my arms. His eyes are starting to show that he’s a bit more desperate than he lets on.
“I-I won’t come back! I swear!” He says worriedly.
“Really? You won’t come back to Equestria?” I ask.
“Y-Yes!”
“... Alright. Just realize, I’ll put your face on every wanted poster in Equestria. If you show up at another Checkpoint, they’ll know. Not only will you be prosecuted for illegally dealing and using drugs, but you’ll also be found guilty of escaping the law and resisting arrest.” The griffon is genuinely terrified now. “I hear that something like that would make you go to jail for like...” I stop to count my fingers. “Thirty years max.” I lean in, giving a smirk as I breathe some smoke out onto his face. “Now, what do we say to the nice guy who doesn’t let you rot in jail?”
“T-thank you,” he whimpers. I lean back.
“Good. Now scram, I don’t want to see your ugly ass ever again,” I say, denying his passport. I hand him back his papers before he scrambles to leave. I chuckle as I watch him run out with his tail between his legs. Not gonna lie, it’s satisfying to know that I can be a little scary to ex-mafia members. I could tell he wasn’t exactly lying about having a wife and kids, but if the mafia found out that I just let him off the hook with nothing more than a slap on the wrist, they’d have my neck. Thus, I sent him away. If he doesn’t come back, we won’t have a problem. I wasn’t kidding about having his face plastered on every wanted poster either. Since I’m the manager, I could pull up anyone’s name to be put on the wanted posters everywhere, or even at specific locations. All I’d need to do is pull up a name. I sigh and rub my face face in a vain attempt to massage it. I hope to God that griffon isn’t stupid. I lean towards the mic. “Next!”
The next entrant kind of catches me by surprise. A familiar grey pegasus walks in. “Derpy?” I ask. The pony in question gasps excitedly and rushes up.
“Anon! It’s been a while!” She says excitedly. I almost forgot which eye I was supposed to look at.
“Yeah, long time no see!” I say, smiling a little. Derpy reaches into her saddle and brings out her papers.
“See! I have all my stuff updated! Just like you asked!” She says happily.
“Good! How’s the family?” I ask. She giggles.
“Dinky’s been so good lately! She got a one hundred on a science test recently!” Derpy says excitedly. “I’m so proud of her, I bet she could be a scientist when she grows up!”
“Yeah, she probably could,” I say. I scan over her papers to make sure everything’s fine. A part of me had doubts on Derpy’s claims. Thankfully, her papers are fine. I stamp them green before looking back up. “Welp, have a good day Derpy, tell Dinky I said hi, Alright?” She nods and walks off with her approved papers. I keep a smile as I call in the next entrant. I drop my smile as I see Twilight walk in. I mean, I don’t hate her as much anymore, but it’s kind of... awkward.
“Oh! Anon!” She says, smiling a little as she walks up. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to have our chats recently, a lot of complications have been happening at the school.”
“Eh, it’s fine,” I say, shrugging. “So, what brings you here?” I ask as I take her papers.
“Well, I got a letter from Yakyakistan, and they needed me over there for some filing!” She says excitedly. I shake my head.
“I’ll never understand why you like paperwork,” I say. Twilight rolls her eyes, but keeps her smile.
“Anyway, how have you been recovering?” She asks.
“... Fine,” I answer.
“Um, okay?” She looks at me with uncertainty. “Uh, how’s Whisk?” I start to answer, but I suddenly sneeze. “Blush you,” she says.
“Thanks. Um, Whisk’s been pretty good. She’s kinda excited for the Gala.” Twilight almost flinches at the mention of the Gala.
“Really? Did you two get a ticket?” She asks. I make a ‘sorta’ motion with my hands.
“It’s more like a request Luna made.”
“Really?” Twilight asks, with a little surprise.
“I want to turn it down,” I say bitterly. “I remember the last two times I was there.”
“Well, I mean, I don’t blame you,” Twilight admits. “But, if Luna’s asking, it might be important.”
“Hm,” I respond distastefully. I stamp her papers green and hand them back. “Well, try to-“ I stop to sneeze again.
“Blush you, you’re not sick are you?” Twilight asks worriedly. I shake my head.
“No, I’m not sick, just chilly.” I say. Twilight gives me an uncertain look before walking out. I sigh as I rub my temples. I don’t know why, but I don’t really feel good now...
I sigh as I work on paperwork. It’s the afternoon, and I’m not as frustrated as usual. The line was somehow quicker today, after the little mafia debacle, and I just got much more free time for paperwork. Whisk’s waffles certainly helped me through today so far. It’s a wonder what waffles can do. I can hear the guards outside marching to their posts, switching shifts. I look at the clock to see it’s twelve thirty. I look out the window into the other room as I simply sigh out of boredom. I go back to my work. Suddenly, my office door flies open, scaring the shit out of me. Clipper walks in, looking panicked. “M-mister Anon!” She calls.
“What the- what!?” I ask loudly before sneezing.
“O-oh, blush you, sorry, um,” Clipper stops to recompose herself. “W-we have someone who wants to see you,” she says hurriedly. “H-he’s kind of important...” I groan out loud and re-organize my papers. I stack them, pick them up, and hold them with one arm as I get up.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say tiredly. I walk out with Clipper leading me to the office building. We walk in, and Clipper points to my manager-office.
“He’s in there,” she says, quickly going back to her desk and continuing her work. I sigh and walk over.
“A’ight,” I say, opening the door. “Who’s the guy that wanted to talk to-“ I stop to sneeze. I look up to see two griffons in my office. One of them is Featherbird, who perks up upon seeing me. The other is someone I kind of recognize. He’s a bit bigger than the average griffon. He has dark green feathers, a black beak, and black fur. “... Who the hell are you?” I ask, failing to remember him. Featherbird coughs nervously into his claw as the other griffon narrows his eyes.
“Anonymous, this is my King, Lord Windfall,” he says, emphasizing the ‘king’ bit.
“... Right, so he’s someone I don’t give a fuck about, of course,” I mutter, walking to my chair. Featherbird clears his throat nervously. I get the feeling that he’s not so happy anymore.
“U-um, right, uh-“
“What an... interesting candidate,” Windfall says slowly. “Featherbird, you’re one of my most trusted advisors and ambassador,” he stops to turn to his feathery companion. “What has prompted you to choose this creature to be a candidate?”
“Hold up, what do you mean?” I ask, sorting my papers. As he answers, I make a mental debate on whether or not I want to smoke right now.
“Well, Anonymous,” Featherbird starts. “Princess Celestia-“ he stops as I interrupt him by sneezing.”... Princess Celestia and my King have made a temporary agreement. We agreed to have a show of trust, and thus we had both agreed to exchange certain creatures to be given a tour over the course of half a month, starting in December. We will give that creature a tour of the capital of our country, with paid-for meals and entertainment.” I decide not to smoke, Clipper would get mad. I’d rather keep the most competent secretary on my side.
“... And you’re here because...?” I trail off. Windfall clears his throat.
“We were given a list of citizens to choose from. These citizens were chosen by Celestia and Luna. We’re checking on these citizens to make sure they’re qualified to go. You were one of them.” He turns to look at Featherbird. “Featherbird has strongly encouraged me to check on you first.” He turns to me. “I’m here to see why he would do so, out of curiosity.” I shrug.
“Fuck if I know,” I say, before sneezing.
“Clearly,” the King says, raising an eyebrow,
“W-well, you see, Anonymous has showed to be truly... notable,” Featherbird says, hesitating to find a word to describe me. “He’s rather exceptional in his abilities, and-“
“Look, the only thing I give a fuck about right now, is why am I here?” I ask impatiently. Featherbird looks at me with a horrified expression, but the King remains neutral. I mean, it’s not like there’s gonna be a group of ponies showing up at my booth, the civilian-entrant-limit was already passed, but I don’t know for certain if any military entrants will show up. I remember the last time I had to do paperwork for late military entrants, and it was not fun.
“What, not interested in your achievements?” The griffon king asks.
“Not really in the mood to hear that I have competence,” I deadpan.
“... Why did the princesses put your name down?” He asks in amusement. Featherbird is silently panicking about what’s going on through the king’s head, if the eyes darting between me and his king are anything to go by..
“I don’t know, I’m not the princesses,” I say, crossing my arms. “I know for fact that I wouldn’t put my name down though.”
“Mhmm.” Windfall stares at me for a few seconds before smiling ever so slightly. “I have all I need to know. Come along Featherbird.” He turns to me as he gets up. “We will notify you if you are chosen. Good day Mr Human,” he says, nodding. I only respond with a confused-as-fuck look. I look at Featherbird, who’s also a little confused as well, but follows his king out the door. He quickly waves bye to me before continuing. I simply sit in my chair for a few more seconds before throwing my hands in the air in frustration.
“The fuck was the point of me being here!?” I yell at no one in particular, before sneezing again. “Fuck!”
Much Later...
I sneeze as Whisk and I browse through clothes in an elegant store. It’s been a few days since the king’s visit. It’s Sunday, September twelfth. Whisk and I are browsing for clothes for her to wear to the Gala. I already have what I want to wear, a black jacket with a white shirt underneath. I’ll wear khakis just to see if I can piss anybody off. I had the khakis for a long time, courtesy of Rarity, but I’d only wear it to formal events. I know, pure evil. Khakis were normally made by Minotaurs, strangely enough. “... Anon, are you sure you aren’t sick?” She asks me, turning to look at me. My face probably looks like shit.
“I’m fine, let’s just get this over with.”
“Um, okay,” Whisk responds with uncertainty. She goes back to looking at dresses. “What kind of colors go with my feathers?” She asks.
“Well, I mean, we’re only meeting Luna, so I’m sure it won’t matter,” I say. “Luna’s not really a dressy-type mare.”
“It kind of does Anon, you can’t just-“ I cut her off by stepping into her field of vision. I have a deadpan expression.
“Whisk, I’m going to the Gala wearing a white regular shirt, a black jacket, and khakis,” I say. “And you’re asking me what to wear?” Whisk sighs.
“I know, but I still want to look pretty, just in case.” I simply sigh in defeat.
“Alright. Um...” I look at the wide range of colors, racking my brain for what could looks good on purple. “... Try black.” Whisk looks at me in confusion.
“Black? Really?” She asks. “Are you sure that’d look good on me?” I shrug.
“It’s worth a try,” I say. Whisk looks down in thought.
“... I guess,” she relents. She looks at the various black dresses hanging on racks throughout the store. I just kinda stare off into space. I’m not entirely too excited for the Gala, but if Luna wants a private meeting, I’m willing to go. I don’t particularly like it, but it’s better than hanging out by the food table all night. Suddenly, I feel a tug on my shirt. I snap back to reality as Whisk holds up a plastic bag. We’re at a checkout.
“Ready to go?” She asks, smiling. I nod.
“Sure, what’d you pick out?” I ask out of curiosity. She giggles.
“Did you space out again?” She asks. I shrug. “In that case, it’s a secret.” I roll my eyes, smiling a little.
“Alright,” I say, before sneezing and coughing. “God dammit.” Whisk frowns as she sees my frustrated expression.
“Anon, I know you well enough to know you’re not fine. Let’s go home, you’re sick,” she says. Whisk takes a wing bs my hand with it. I contemplate how fucking weird that is as she drags me out the store. As we walk down the street, a familiar purple pegasus stops us by turning around the corner.
“Mr Anon,” he states loudly as Whisk and I come up. “We were just wondering when we’d find ya. We need to chat.” Whisk stops to look at the pony before looking at me in confusion.
“Anon, who is he?” She asks.
“Someone from the-“ I sneeze, making me mutter some explicits. “He’s from the mafia or some shit.” As Whisk looks at me in horror, the pony cackles.
“That’s the best description I’ve heard!” He says. He gets back to being serious quickly though. “However, I’m not here for small talk. I’m here to ask you about a certain predicament.”
“Is it about Bullshivic?” I ask.
“Yes. You see, when we asked you to take care of him, we meant something along the lines of, you know, throwing him in jail,” he says. “We’re not entirely upset at your choice, but we’d like to hear the reasoning.”
“I actually did you one better,” I say, drawing a confused look from him. “If he was actually doing business with another mob, then he would have something to trade with. However, if he came back to show that he had nothing, he would be in a worse predicament then simply being in jail.” The pegasus’ eyes widen slightly as I can see the gears turning in his head. “Now, one of a few things can happen. He could try to show up again, which will throw him in jail. He could try to return to the mob who will be very upset to see he failed. The other mob could hunt him down themselves. Or, finally, he could disappear from the world, taking on a new identity and just-“ I stop to sneeze, ruining the cool moment I was having. “He could just live a normal life.” The pony simply stands in front of Whisk and I, thinking.
“... Okay, I guess that’ll count for the boss,” he mutters. “Would’ve been nice if it was just simply done and over with.”
“The best results are mostly never ‘done simply’,” I voice my opinion. “But who am I to say that, I got a job by being an asshole.” The pegasus chuckles, light a cig.
“Alright, I’ll give you that.” The pegasus turns to go back into the alley. “Well, pleasure doing business with ya. You ever need a favor, just call.” With a sinister smirk, he walks into the dark alley, disappearing into the shadows. Whisk turns to me, looking pissed.
“Are you seriously doing business with the Mafia!?” She yells.
“For a favor, yes. They know me well enough to know I won’t do anything they specifically want, but if they needed someone to be gone...” I trail off, leaving it up to interpretation as I start pulling out a cigarette to smoke. When I pull one out, Whisk slaps it out of my hand.
“No, you’re sick, you’re not smoking,” she says. I grumble, but I put my pack away before coughing.
“I’m not that sick,” I say.
“Bullshit,” Whisk says, continuing our trek home. “You’re sick. I don’t care if you think you’ll be fine, you’re staying home tomorrow.”
“Okay, let’s not-“ I stop as Whisk leaps into the air, hovers with her wings, and puts a talon on my head.
“Oh crap, you’re burning up!” Whisk almost yells. “We’re getting you home, quick!” With that, we now start to hurry home as I try to fruitlessly protest.
Whisk rinses a rag with cold water and slightly rings it before hurrying towards me with it. “Anon, how have you been doing anything for the past few days!?” She asks me as I lay in bed. When we got home, she took my temperature. Apparently, according to the thermometer, I’m two or three degrees higher in Fahrenheit. “If I had known you were this sick, I would’ve-“ she stops as I interrupt her with a sneeze and a coughing fit. “I would’ve forced you to stay home earlier.”
“Whisk, I’m not about to die,” I say, keeping still as I admittedly like laying in place. The cold, wet rag put on my head almost makes the headache go away instantly.
“No, but you’re damn close to,” she mutters. “I don’t even think we can go to the Gala.”
“... You know, I suddenly feel like I’m on the brink of death, waiting for the inevitable to-“
“Okay Neighspeare, I get it, you feel sick,” Whisk giggles, rolling her eyes. She drops her smile as she looks at me. “Seriously though, don’t go to work tomorrow. You need rest.”
“It’ll be fine Mom,” I sarcastically say. Whisk rolls her eyes at me and turns to walk out of the bedroom.
“I’m going to cook some dinner, do you want anything specific?” She asks,
“Food,” I reply.
“Hm, alright, I guess that’s simple enough,” she jokes, giggling as she walks out. I lay in bed silently as Whisk does her culinary magic in the kitchen. I think of how I’m going to go about tomorrow. I’ll be out tomorrow, and possibly the day after if I’m unlucky enough. I’ll need to go to my office anyway and make a note for Clipper to bring me work around her lunch time. She normally either chats with a guard or continues working, so a break from an office space would probably be okay with her. For a sub, I’ll have to make a few calls in my office. The Border will start up late, but I’m sure it’ll be fine for the most part. I just have to get there early enough to call someone in. My thoughts are interrupted by the bedroom door opening. Walking in, Whisk carries a bowl of spaghetti. I smile as I sit up, looking at the food and graciously take it. “Careful, it’s-“ She doesn’t get to finish as I hungrily start chowing down. I suck up the noodles and sauce like a vacuum cleaner, and the meatballs never even stood a chance. After I finish, I give a satisfied sigh as I put down the bowl. However, I frown,
“... Is there more?” I quietly ask. Whisk stares at the empty bowl for another minute before quickly nodding.
“Uh, yeah, just uh, give me a sec,” she says. She takes my bowl and walks out to refill it. After a moment, she comes back, and the bowl has more spaghetti and sauce than last time.
“Hell yes,” I mutter, quickly starting to eat. I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly really hungry.
“Wow, uh, didn’t know you liked my cooking that much,” Whisk mutters. She looks at me in concern as I finish up the bowl again. “Anon, have you been eating anything for lunch recently?” I kind of freeze at the question and cough nervously.
“I mean... It’s not like I don’t eat on purpose,” I say.
“Anon,” Whisk warns.
“...Alright, I haven’t been eating a lot recently,” I admit.
“Anon,” Whisk says. “You can’t just skip lunch.”
“Well, I kinda did,” I say. Whisk gives me a stern glare. “It was a joke.”
“And it’s not funny,” she says.
“Sorry,” I apologize.
“... Anon, promise me you won’t do anything tomorrow,” Whisk says. I turn my head to deadpan at her.
“Whisk, I’m not a kid.”
“But you are sick,” she says. I simply sigh at her accurate reasoning and lay back down. Whisk grabs my bowl and smiles at me. "Now, stay in bed, you need to rest." With that, Whisk leaves the room with my empty bowl in her talon. I stare at the ceiling of the bedroom in boredom. At least there isn't any jazz. However, the moment I think of that, jazz starts playing in the living room. "Hey sweetie! There's a jazz festival going on! I'll turn it up so you can hear, okay?" A muffled call says. I groan out loud and cover my ears. This is going to be a long couple of days...
I feel Whisk's eyes boring into me as I walk to work this morning. "Look, I'm not going to stay, I'll leave once Clipper gets my note," I explain, before sneezing and going into a coughing fit. I almost feel like there's nothing but gunk in my chest.
"I'll believe it when you leave the Checkpoint. After that, you're going back to bed," Whisk says. I chuckle at her over protecting attitude as we walk up to the Checkpoint. I walk into my office building with Whisk in tow. She kind of looks around in curiosity as I go to Clipper. Clipper's busy sorting through a mess of paperwork.
"Hey Clipper," I say, walking up. She looks up and visibly cringes as she sees me. I sneeze and cough a bit as she greets me.
"Uh, sir? You don't look too good." I kind of nod.
"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot. Look, I'll be gone for today, so can you file for a sub for my post?" I ask.
"Of course! I'll be happy to!" Clipper says. "You go home sir, get well soon!" I chuckled as I turn to leave.
"I'll try." With that, Whisk and I leave, going home.
I sit on the couch, keeping an ice pack to my head as I watch the television. I find it funny how ponies have tv and telephones, but they haven't made cellphones. "-But wait! There's more!" The goat onscreen says.
"There always is, Billy Neighs," I say to myself. I've been sick for three days now. Nothing much really happened, other than Luna complaining to me about how I didn't show up. I told her about how I was sick, and she understood. She said I didn't have to go anymore and that I should get well soon. Ever since this morning, I've been eating some tomato soup Whisk made for me this morning. I take another sip from a spoon of red blandness and continue watching Trotsi-Clean ads. So many memories.
Suddenly, the channel gets interrupted as the screen changes to breaking news. A panicked pony on screen shows up. "Breaking news! An attack was launched on the Grand Galloping Gala last night!" He says.
"Somehow, I'm not surprised," I mutter to myself. Every year, something bad happens at the Gala. It's always a disaster.
"No one is reported dead, but a bombing took place in the very throne room of Princess Celestia!" The pony continues. "A-and, and-" he stops to recompose himself. "Celestia had been directly hit!"