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// Those sprinkles again... 
// Story: Sugar, Spice, and some other things I've probably forgotten... 
// by The Blue EM2 
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Jimmy was Jimmy. This much was true. He was also a person, as much as this was true too. And on the third count of such a fact, he definitely qualified for being a citizen of the United States, on the grounds that his parents were American and he was born in the United States (and remained very proud of it despite being less than satisfied with certain political arrangements). Such as the fact that the virus had, tragically, arrived in his own county of Dare, which had resulted in one death at time of writing, which was quite the tragic thing. Still, some places had already begun to lift their lockdowns when the peak of the curve was yet to hit, and campaigners were campaigning for the lockdowns to be lifted and for masks to be banned as they violated the Constitution.

"Why do Trumpers have such a problem with wearing face masks and hoods?" Jimmy grumbled, to nobody in particular as he lived alone. After his adventure in Nottingham as Honey Lemon, he had warped back to Manteo, and was once more living on his own, with his computer and his TV the only windows to the outside world. "It's not as if it bothered them in the past." He got up from his desk, the AC kicking in as the temperatures were increasing outdoors. It was hellish, with such lovely weather and yet they had to stay indoors and be very hot or cold indeed, depending on where you were in the house. Anyhow, Jimmy walked over to another window and began to come up with a cunning plan. A plan so cunning, you could attach a tale to it and call it a weasel.

In order to ensure that social distancing could be truly and properly and properly and truly enforced, the local administration had introduced a requirement that only one person could be permitted into a place at one time. This could be used for purchasing stuff, as well as an excuse for exercise. And one thing he was running short of was cake and other baked goods, which had been adding onto his wasteline for a while now. Luckily, if he was truly in need of baked goods, he knew there was a place he could go to get it, and get a walk in to get there in the process. And this he could pass off as his daily exercise, a fact that was extremely handy indeed as he headed for his door.

"Here we go! To the south of the island!" He said, as he went outdoors and into the world.

"Who are you talking to?" asked a disembodied voice.





Wanchese is a small settlement on the Southern tip of Roanoke Island. The town is named after the last chief of the Roanoke tribe, who assisted the early colonists on Roanoke Island, which is not a big place, and vanished alongside them in 1585 (see The Lost Colony for more details on that). However, there was something of an advantage to the way the island was set up. Although, on paper, two separate towns (rather like Pawnee and Eagleton), the two settlements ran into each other, which technically meant you could cross from one to the other without having broken quarantine laws prohibiting you from travelling considerable differences. This was something Jimmy intended to take full advantage of then and there. And so, he set off for Wanchese, with a confident spring in his step, as there was some place he needed to go. And onwards he went, as the streets of low rise buildings and empty spaces, occupied by trees and the occasional alligator waiting for somebody stupid enough to walk over to them, eventually faded away and gave way to rolling hills, before changing yet again into a town with very similar architecture to that of Manteo. Onwards Jimmy, went, as he knew where he wanted to go.

The streets were empty, but there was one establishment that remained popular despite all that was going on. Some stores were still permitted to operate despite the ongoing crisis, and this place to whence Jimmy was going was one of them. This place was, of course, the local bakery, where people went to see to their carbohydrate and sugary needs and ensure they were properly sated. But the rules regarding the virus prevented the number of people getting too high. The maximum permitted number of people in the store at any one time was one, and as such Jimmy had to stand outside (six feet away from anybody else, or else he risked catching the virus) until the previous person was done. It seemed to be hours before anybody left the building, but at long last the person in front left. The door opened and they went out, and Jimmy entered with a smile, keen to get his hands on some freshly baked bread.

Unfortunately for him, the worker on duty today was rather clumsy, and she had something of a problem with bottles filled with things. There was a bottle of sprinkles that was causing her especial trouble at the moment, and just as Jimmy entered, she through- no, she threw the bottle at him (second time was right). Sprinkles flew everywhere through the air and covered the floor and ground in sprinkles, and some of them, by the nature of course, hit Jimmy. All of the ones upon him lit up, and there was an intense white flash. Once it cleared, Jimmy was gone.

The worker leaned over the counter in confusion. Standing below counter height, at no more than three feet of height, was a pink unicorn with purple eyes and a purple mane and tail. The mane and tail were both curly, and braded, held in place with hairbands with a light blue and dark blue bead to hold them closed.

"Hello!" she said. "I'm Sugar Belle! Can I help?"

"Erm, sure," the worker replied. "But the rules don't allow two people behind the counter at once."

"It doesn't exempt ponies." Sugar Belle hopped over the counter and began moving stuff with her horn.

Could this day get any wierder?