//------------------------------// // G3 Minty Isn’t In Your Bed, But In The Shower Of Your Room At The Motel You’re Staying At Three States Away From Your Apartment (AlwaysDressesInStyle) // Story: Fimfic Authors Are In Your Bed // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// G3 Minty Isn’t In Your Bed, But In The Shower Of Your Room At The Motel You’re Staying At Three States Away From Your Apartment AlwaysDressesInStyle A week later, you’re sitting in a McDonald’s, eyes on the news as you idly poke at your now cold food. Cozy Glow still hasn’t made headlines, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s disappeared back to Equestria, like all the ponies before her, or if her nefarious plot was detected and dealt with swiftly, then covered up because no one’s ever going to believe a magical talking pink pegasus filly from a children’s cartoon show tried to take over the Garden State. It’s been a rough few days. You’re in another state, under an assumed name. You’re burning through your savings because even a motel boasting ‘low weekly rates’ isn’t all that affordable on retail wages. You’re away from home, so that means eating out or microwaveable meals. You’ve had enough frozen TV dinners. By this point, you’re no longer on speaking terms with Marie Callender. So the McDonald’s Dollar Menu it is. And a Shamrock Shake, because even though it isn’t March, the local football team’s primary color is green, and they’ve got the mint-flavored shake on the menu to show team pride. Driving back to the motel, you feel like weeping in joy – it’s Monday, but if there’s a pony in your bed back home, you’ll never know about it. You park, and can’t help but think your old jalopy looks right at home in the rundown motel’s parking lot. You find your room and turn the key in the lock. Stepping in, the room is in complete disarray. Even worse than you’d left it. It looks like it’s been ransacked by the Mob. You facepalm at the muffled sound of hooves clopping in the bathroom. If nothing else, it confirms that the Equestrian Monday magic is tied to you, and not your apartment. Opening the door to the bathroom, you find that the toilet’s overflowing, but there’s no pony in sight. You’re so used to hearing the clip clop of little hooves on Monday, you’re obviously just imagining it. Your bed is hundreds of miles, and three state lines, away from the motel. There’s no way a pony can be here. That’s what you tell yourself, despite the vaguely pony-shaped shadow behind the shower curtain. First things first – you grab the plunger and deal with the toilet. There’s nothing clogging it, which is odd. Once it’s no longer spilling out onto the floor, you think about calling the front desk for a mop, but then think better of it. They might charge your credit card for water damage, even though there’s no damage and you’ve already taken care of the problem. That problem being the small problem. There’s still the shadow behind the shower curtain to deal with, which would no doubt be a much bigger problem. As far as stealthiness goes, this pony has rolled a natural 1. She, and you’re positive it’s a she because you can hear her giggles, can’t sit still. She’s pacing in the shower, the clip clop of her hooves echoing in the cramped bathroom. She keeps whispering to herself that she has to be quiet, and also complimenting herself for how sneaky she is. This is immediately followed by giggling, every single time. Professional spy, she isn’t. Grabbing the hotel’s stained white towels, you sop up the mess. Cheap hotel or not, they’ll bring extra towels upon request, and you haven’t requested any in the previous days, so they might not even charge you for them. You’re not that lucky, and you know it. And for once, neither is the subject of your ire. As the pony reaches the side of the shower with the faucet and turns around, you reach a hand in and turn the cold water on full blast. She whinnies in surprise as the ice cold water pelts her. Taking pity on the poor mare, you move the handle to the warm water. While she showers, you call the front desk to have them tell housekeeping to deliver more towels to your room. The water eventually stops. The pony doesn’t come out of the bathroom though. If she wants to stay in the bathroom all night, you’re fine with that – you’ll get some sleep for once, and she can return to Equestria soaking wet for all you care. You’re so over ponies at this point. “Um…” “Um,” you repeat. “Um, what? I left the clean towels on the shelf above the toilet.” “Um, could you maybe come in here and help me?” “What now?” To be fair, none of your previous guests have ever showered before leaving. “I’m an earth pony. I… I don’t have any of my bathing tools with me and I’m a little impaired at the moment…” “Impaired?” You didn’t have any alcohol in the room for the pony to have sampled, though if things continue in the direction they were heading, you’re probably going to want some before much longer. You open the door to the bathroom and a black hoof waves at you from the shower. Except only the hoof is black. As more of the pony’s leg comes out of the shower, you can see her coat is really mint green, but she’s wearing a black sock. One of your black socks. That certainly explains why the clopping of her hooves had been muffled. You remove the damp sock that's clinging to her hoof, dumping it on top of the towels you’d used to soak up the mess the pony had made. Three more hooves poke out in turn, and three more socks are removed. “Anything else?” you ask, knowing darned well you’re going to regret it. “Would you mind lathering me up?” Yes, I would mind! But you agree nonetheless. The shower curtain draws back to reveal a mint green pony that looks quite different from any of those you’ve encountered before her. Her eyes are smaller, and her features are more equine than those of the ponies you’ve gotten used to seeing. You start soaping her back, but once you realize that her coat is made up of hairs, not fur, you reconsider that and start lathering her entirely with shampoo. The motel you were staying at hadn’t provided a complimentary bottle, so you’d purchased some at Target. Mane ‘n Tail, of course, because somehow you had a hunch you hadn’t seen the last of your equine visitors and it never hurts to be prepared. Once she’s fully lathered, you shut the curtain and turn the water on again, letting her rinse off. The shower soon stops, and she shakes herself out, pelting the shower curtain and the wall with water droplets. You’re still in the restroom, the concept of privacy having gone out the window the instant she’d asked you to lather her up. You grab a towel and help her dry off. Then you grab another towel, because ponies have a lot of hair. You spread out the last towel the motel has given you on the bed, and the still damp pony lays on top of it. Now that all crises have been solved, it’s time to get some answers. “What’s your name?” “Minty.” “Why does my room look it’s been raided by the FBI?” Minty blushes. “I was looking for socks.” “Which you found.” She nods. “But you only have the boring black kind. I was hoping you had some of the colorful kind, or the sparkly kind, or even the glow-in-the-dark kind. Or the ones with cute little kitty pawprints on the bottom.” “Sorry for being a guy.” “A guy?” “Male. You know, like a stallion.” Minty looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Stallion?” “You’re a mare, right?” Minty nods. “Mares are female.” “Okay?” She looks at you, quizzically. “Do you have no concept of gender?” You rub your temples, deep in thought. “When you go potty…” “Go what?” You point to the toilet bowl in the other room. “When you use that.” “I’ve never seen one of those in my life until today. Why does the water go down the hole, only to come back? And why does it flood if you jiggle the handle five times?” Well, that explains how she’d flooded the toilet – one less thing to ask her. “You eat, right?” Minty nods. “I’m starved, actually!” “How do you excrete waste?” “Do what now?” “How do I put this… what goes in has to come back out.” “That’s silly. Why would you waste food?” “For the love of… Lift your tail.” Minty does so. You’d gone out of your way not to look under there while lathering her earlier, but now you can plainly see it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing there except a butt crack. “How do you reproduce? Where do foals come from?” Minty shrugs. “The foals have always been there, same as the rest of us.” A strange thought hits you. “Does the word ‘death’ mean anything to you?” Minty shakes her head. She’s found your Shamrock Shake, and she slurps up the last of it. “Oh, it’s minty, just like me!” She tilts her head and looks at you. Minty’s dry now, so there’s only one correct response. It also allows the conversation to shift away from her disturbing lack of anatomy. “Let’s go for a ride.” It doesn’t matter that your car’s best days are long behind it – Minty’s fascinated by it. She’s never seen a car before, and she quickly discovers that windows can be rolled down. It’s chilly, but that doesn’t matter to the pony, who sticks her head out the window like a dog. The first stop is Target, which is where you learn Minty is easily distractible. So much so, she could be the poster pony for ADHD. For a pony who claimed to be famished, your ‘Target run and done’ takes nearly two hours, and multiple trips to the toy section. Your wallet is lighter when you finally leave, but Minty now has adorable socks…and sundry other toys and sweets. The next stop is McDonald’s, where Minty gets a mint-flavored milkshake. She doesn’t seem keen on trying anything else on their menu, instead preferring the candy and snacks you’d bought her at the department store, so you drive back to the motel that’s been your home for the last week. With ponies, you’ve long since learned to filter out what they watch on TV, but Minty has proven to be even more innocent than the other ponies you’ve met. The motel doesn’t get many channels, and primetime network TV is right out. News? Absolutely not. The television set stays off. Minty is too pure for this world, and you have no intention of changing that. Instead, the two of you play with the toys she picked out at Target, and you discover she’s very creative. She gets so caught up in playing that she falls off the bed. Twice. She’s clumsy, but adorable. She starts yawning, and even though it’s a little early for you to feel tired, you’re not used to getting sleep on Monday nights. The thought of turning in early is appealing. The room is no frills – the furniture can be counted on one hand: bed, chair, nightstand, and the dresser that doubles as a TV stand. You take the chair, but Minty asks why. Ponies share beds all the time where she’s from. Your excuses die on your tongue. You climb back into the bed, this time getting under the covers. Minty wiggles backwards until she bumps against you, and you wrap an arm around her barrel. She’s cuddly. That's your only thought before blissful sleep overtakes you. You wake the next morning to an empty bed that smells like peppermint. Most importantly, you can't remember the last time you slept that well. With Minty’s appearance and disappearance, you think it’s finally time to head home to check on your own apartment. Cozy Glow must be gone by now.