Twilight Gets Worms
Admiral Biscuit
Nurse Redheart looked at the clipboard she held in her hoof, then back at Twilight. “I’m afraid the test came back positive.”
Twilight sighed and set her head down on the hotel bed. Not that it was a surprise; Twilight knew her body well and, when she remembered, was as obsessive with her health as everything else.
In fact, that was something she’d learned from humans. They’d invented what they called smart watches which could monitor heart rate and such and keep track of it, they could tell when she was sleeping or when she wasn’t, and they could chart it.
They weren’t smart enough to track everything, nor were they really built for equines, but the idea was appealing. It was easy to nip a problem in the bud when it was a small problem, after all.
“It was the Chipotle, wasn’t it?” Twilight had never understood why so many ponies loved Taco Bell when Chipotle existed. Fresher ingredients, more generous portions . . . she was eating more of it than was really healthy, but stuck in a hotel for the duration, what else was there?
Weirdly, despite her skepticism that thousand-calorie burritos were really healthy—despite what Chipotle claimed—she’d actually been losing weight.
Nurse Redheart nodded. “You’re the only one with worms, and you’re the only one who’s been eating Chipotle.”
“Goddammit.”
She’d been blissfully oblivious, until she caught a glance at one of her fewmets, and saw a worm. Twilight hadn’t really needed Nurse Redheart to confirm, but it was always wise to get a professional opinion.
“At least I don’t have any meetings to go to tomorrow,” Twilight muttered. “Did you bring the turpentine? Can you get that on Earth?”
Nurse Redheart shook her head. “There’s no need for a turpentine and linseed oil drench. Unless you really want to, some ponies are old-fashioned when it comes to their medical preferences. No, humans have invented better drugs to take care of them. Although it does still taste nasty.”
“My Mom always said that you know it’s good for you because it tastes bad.”
“So did mine. I’m not going to tell Nursery Rhyme that, because if she’s anything like me she’ll find a spoiled egg in the icebox and think that it must be good for her.”
Twilight frowned. “Did you actually do that? I knew my Mom was lying to make me feel better when she said it.”
“I wasn’t as clever as you when I was a filly,” Nurse Redheart admitted. “Still not a fan of eggs, even if they’re rich in protein. You can make the human dewormer taste better with honey or molasses.”
“Am I going to need a scrip from a human?”
“That’s the best part,” Nurse Redheart said. “You don’t have to go to a pharmacy for it, you can get it at any farm supply store.” She tugged a piece of paper off her clipboard and mouthed it towards Twilight, who took it in her field. “Those are directions to the nearest Tractor Supply Company, there’s a bus stop in the mall next door, and you—”
With a magenta flash, both Twilight and the map disappeared.
“—can just . . . Faust, I wish I could teleport.”
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Teleporting with maps wasn’t easy, especially printouts of a Google-generated one that lacked any thaumic waypoints, leylines, or sidereal notations, but Twilight wasn’t an alicorn for nothing. She aimed high, got close, overshot on her second teleport, and appeared right next to the cart corral on her third.
Human stores tended to have big signs at the ends of the aisles giving a summary of what was down each, so an unfamiliar store was no problem. “Nutritional supplements and medication” the sign said, and that was what she wanted. In fact, since she was already here, there was no harm in getting another mineral block. The one in her hotel room was nearly used up.
They probably didn’t have molasses, though. Luckily, her second teleport had put her almost directly above a Kroger; she could stop there on her way back to the hotel.
She trotted down the aisle. The mineral blocks were familiar, and she grabbed her favorite brand off the shelf as soon as she spotted it, then turned to read the names of medications.
It didn’t take her long to find where Ivermectin should be, but it wasn’t there. Instead, there was simply a note:
Ivermectin will only be sold to horse owners. ⭐MUST SHOW PIC OF YOU AND YOUR HORSE⭐
Really?
Twilight tore the note off the shelf and held it aloft, along with the mineral block, and stomped up to the customer service desk.
💉💉💉
She slammed the mineral block down on the counter, since it made a far more satisfying noise than a slip of paper.
“You can’t own ponies,” she hissed. “That’s slavery.”
“Ah, you’re misunderstanding,” the Guest Services Girl stammered. “See, the thing is that some people have gotten it in their heads that they can treat COVID with horse dewormer and they’re buying all our stock and making themselves sick, it’s like the fish medicine all over again.”
“Or Tide Pods.” Twilight massaged her temple. “That trend somehow made it to Equestria, and I had to issue a Royal Proclamation which inadvertently made it MORE enticing to some ponies. I appreciate you keeping it out of the hooves of—” she almost said ‘idiots’ then reconsidered— “irresponsible people, but what exactly do you mean by horse owners if not slavery? I thought we made ourselves clear with the Budweiser Clydesdales.”
“I remember hearing about that.”
Twilight nodded. “Did you know Baron Realization has authored a book? It was on the New York Times bestseller list. They’re doing fine under our care.”
“Your care, huh?”
Twilight flared her wings. “We don’t make them do anything they don’t want to, they don’t even have to pull wagons any more if they don’t want to but some of them like it and that’s neither here nor there.” She sighed. “I think we got off on the wrong hoof, I know humans have horses and they’re not the same as ponies and I know that most humans love and care for their horses, just like I love and care for Owlowiscious and. . .” what even is the line between a sapient and an animal? How can I be sure?
While Twilight zoned out, the Customer Service Girl set a tube of Ivermectin on the counter, right next to the mineral block.
“. . . and I guess I’m just upset because I got worms from eating too much Chipotle and I’m sorry for getting upset with you and I’m sorry for tearing down your sign.”
“It’s been stressful for all of us. I’ll tell you what, I’ll make a new sign that says ‘horse caretakers.’ Would that make you feel better?”
Twilight nodded.
“Do you need anything besides the mineral block and the Ivermectin?”
Twilight shook her head, then remembered what else she needed. “Do you have molasses?”
The Customer Service Girl tapped her fingers on the counter in thought. “Uh, in the hunting aisle we’ve got Evolved Habitats premium wildlife attractant by the gallon, or if you’re looking for something more as a treat there are the Equus Magnificus German horse treats. I always liked mint to cover the taste of something bitter, though, not something else bitter.”
“What do you suggest?”
“The Equine Edibles candy cane bran mash.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“No, but if you’re not satisfied, bring it back for a full refund.”
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Twilight did drop into Kroger as a backup plan and found both a bottle of Golden Barrel Unsulfured Blackstrap molasses and a variety pack of Celestial Seasonings tea. And a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup as she waited in line, because it had been a stressful afternoon.
She ate the Reese’s in the parking lot, trying not to think about the worms getting one last meal they might like, then was back in the hotel in a flash.
EPILOGUE
The candy cane bran mash was as good as the Customer Service Girl had promised, and the Ivermectin shifted the worms as advertised.