//------------------------------// // Friday, 6/29/18 // Story: The New... Pony? // by thatoneguyisbestpony //------------------------------// “I’m gonna need some more sealer sometime soon. By the way, where are we going for lunch today?” Mike asked. “Wherever. I don’t give a crap.” I dug through the pile of materials to find a bucket of pookie, then said, “Dusty, I forgot to tell you that we get an hour for lunch on Fridays. Usually we all go to the same place. Do you want to come with us?” “I haven’t been here long enough to know what human restaurants are like,” Dusty answered from up in the lift. “I know you guys eat a lot of meat, is that what most restaurants serve?” “So alien horses are still vegetarians, huh? And here I was starting to think that ponies weren’t all that different from us. You ready for the next piece of pipe?” “Give me a minute; I’ve got to set this hanger.” She marked the correct height on the hanger strap, cut it, and fastened it in a loop. “Yeah, pass it up.” I handed her ten feet of eight inch spiral pipe, which she slid through the loop and started to connect to the rest of the run. “Most ponies are vegetarians, but a few of us eat some types of meat occasionally,” she explained. “A lot of pegasi will eat fish, crustaceans, and small birds because… Get. The hell. In there. Bitch!” She was having a bit of difficultly sliding the pipe onto the coupler. “I could give you a hand with that if you need it,” I suggested in my most condescending tone. Mike laughed. “Oh fuck off,” Dusty snapped as she hit the duct with her horseshoe, freeing it to slide into place. “Anyways, we eat those because flying requires lots of energy and protein and historically many pegasi have lived along coasts or in cloud cities over the sea so that was the most accessible food. Personally, I like the idea that pegasi have some eagle or griffon blood way back in the family tree.” “There’s a Cajun place up on Sooner and they’ve got catfish and shrimp,” Mike said. “Otherwise she’s probably stuck with a Subway sandwich without meat.” “I don’t feel like Subway anyways,” I replied. “Cajun it is.” *** “Umm, Tree Branch? Is she okay?” Mike waved his hand in front of Dusty’s face while she sat, wide eyed and frozen in place. I reached out and patted her on the cheek a few times to get her attention. “Sweet Celestia,” she breathed, “is all human food this good? It’s hot and crispy and a bit spicy and mmmmm…” Words turned to an almost sexual moan of pleasure and her eyes closed halfway as she stuffed a hush puppy into her mouth. "No, only the unhealthy stuff is this good." My own catfish basket was proof that humans were not designed to be fueled by leaves, tree bark, and rainbows. "Any food can be improved by breading and frying it. Don't they cook that way in Equestria?" It took her a few seconds to swallow enough of her food to speak. "We have a plethora of sweets: cakes, pies, donuts, candy, and on and on. But most of our actual meals tend to be healthy and kinda bland. Don't get me wrong, I like a good daffodil sandwich or hayburger, but they're kinda boring. Really flavorful meals tend to be from cultures on the outer edges of Equestria. My favorites are sushi and Manipuri food." "Manifoor foo?" Mike mumbled through his mouthful of po' boy. "It's a type of food from a region off to the west. Lots of spicy curries," she explained before finishing her shrimp. Mike swallowed, "Sounds kinda like Indian food. We've got some restaurants that may be similar and they always have lots of vegetarian options. Wanna go to one this weekend?" I snorted. "Smooth, Mike." "Shut up, jackass." He kicked my shin. "Ow, you son of a bitch!" I laughed Dusty interrupted our "fight" by throwing a fry at both of our faces. "Sounds good; I'll text you tomorrow. You guys ready to leave?" "Yeah," I sighed as I stood up. "If we have to. You're riding in the bed of the truck though, Dusty." "What, why?" she asked indignantly. I raised my eyebrows. "Well, it might have something to do with you shooting your wings out and blocking my view when that car pulled out in front of us on the way here." We'd taken the job truck to lunch, so we'd been sitting three across on the bench seat with her in the middle at the time. "It was instinct," she blushed. "I tried to slow myself down so I wouldn't hit the car." "And that's why my instincts are telling me that it'd be safer for the mobile blindfold to sit in the back where she isn't as dangerous. Besides, there's more room there." "Ok, that's fair." She flapped a couple times and dropped into the bed.