//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: INSURANCE! a Grumpy Goat >tail< // by De Writer //------------------------------// I was down in the Ponyville Hall of Records, doing one of my most favorite things. I was paying Mol, the somewhat elderly mare who ran the place, seventy bits in contract registration fees. She was happily sorting my most recent contracts and doing all of those clerkly things connected to registering them and making them all into totally legal ruin, bad luck and doom for ponies in and around Ponyville, all paid for in advance by OTHER PONIES from in and around Ponyville! My business is Non Equine magic, conducted by carefully drawn and publicly registered contracts. Mol was looking at the pile as she shook her head. “They certainly are keeping you busy with your Non Equine magic practice, aren’t they, Grumpy, my favorite dead goat?” The glamor spell that lets any other being see my otherwise invisible spirit body smiled as I replied, “They certainly are, Mol, my lovely. Seven contracts yesterday alone and not a one that is a minimum fee job. All from 500 golden bits on up.” Mol smiled as she filed the papers. It always tickles her fancy that I pretend that she is both young and beautiful. It is our game. “I am surprised that any of Ponyville is still standing, Grumpy. Before you started registering your Non Equine magic contracts, I had no idea that so many ponies wished each other such ill will.” Mol sighed and leaned on the polished hardwood of the counter. “There is something that you should know about, Grumpy. One of the agents for Canterlot Casualty and Life got caught trying to sneak a registered policy out of the files here. It was your old Home Owner’s and Life Insurance policy. You know, the policy that they gave you so much trouble settling when your old house here in town got burned down by that anti goat mob.” That captured my attention entire. “Perhaps I should take a look at that policy, Mol, my beauty. I was led to believe that it was over and done with after the court ordered settlement was paid on my house all those years ago.” Grinning like she had just performed a magical trick, Mol reached under the counter and produced a fat envelope. “Somehow, Grumpy, I suspected that you would want to take a look.” Whistling tunelessly, I leafed through the pages of a policy that I had last seen about fifteen years ago while being bullied by a Canterlot Casualty and Life agent. I was younger, less experienced, and recovering from serious burns along with some broken bones at the time, so I was easier to mislead than I am now. I could easily see WHY they wanted to steal the only copy of this little time bomb. When I took out the policy, I was new to Ponyville and had named MYSELF as the beneficiary. At the time, I did not know anybody else well enough to just hoof over the whole 5,000 bits to, should I die. True, though it took suing them to get it, they had paid off on my house and contents after the Celestian Church anti goat mob attacked me and set fire to my home. It was Mol who pointed out to me the deadly part of the policy that was being stolen. Attached to the policy was a Royal Chancery copy of my death certificate with a note of the date that the company was notified that I was formally deceased and must be paid the death benefit of 5000.00 golden bits. Serenely she hoofed over a separate sheet with the interest and penalties calculated on it. Mol said, “Due to the fifteen year delay so far, the wonders of compound interest, not to mention late fees, based on the total amount owing, Grumpy, they owe you just over 1,000,000 Golden Bits!” I looked up in something like shock. Batting the eyelashes that I don’t actually have, I commented, “Mol, my darling sweet pony, I thought that I was the evil one here! What led you to check this out for me?” Gone dead serious and weeping just a little, she leaned heavily on the counter as she replied, “A few months ago, my brother Brownie was killed in a cart accident over on the Falmire Cutoff. He was pulling a two wheel delivery wagon and a big brewery wagon cut too close to him. Their front axle end took out spokes on Brownie’s right wheel. That flipped his cart and dumped him onto his side. The brewery wagon ran over his neck with their rear wheel. It killed him on the spot. “Canterlot Casualty and Life tried to bully poor Vanner, his widow, into taking only half of his standard life insurance value. They tried to tell her that Brownie had set up the accident and that his death was a suicide! They claimed that they did not have to pay anything and were being GENEROUS in offering her HALF of the standard death benefit. “Judge Coldheart listened to the case and ordered them to pay the full double indemnity for accidental death forthwith. Even so, Vanner did not get her check for nearly three weeks.” I looked up (goats like me are little guys) and asked, “Would it be too much trouble to request full copies of this policy and attachments, my lovely mare?” Her smile returning, Mol slid the documents that I had been studying across the polished hardwood of the counter. “I was pretty sure that you would want them, Grumpy. These are official copies. I paid for them myself. If anyone can kick Canterlot Casualty and Life in the rump, it is you!” I neatly folded everything back into its envelope, reached up to take Mol’s hoof in my own glamored ones and gave her a kiss on the hoof. “That my lovely sweet young mare is for your kindness. Adieu, my lovely mare, until I next have business for you. You may be assured that I will keep you informed about this little matter, too.” I took my leave, tail flipping about with pleasure. Nearing the offices of Canterlot Casualty and Life, I thoughtfully let the glamor spell on my invisible spirit body go. I did cast one more small glamor to make my very solid saddlebags turn invisible as well. I waited until some ponies were going in and joined them, thus entering the office without being noticed. Even if nopony could see it, I smiled. This was my idea of fun! The Ponyville branch manager’s door was shut. I did the simplest thing possible. I knocked. At his call of, “Come in!” I did. And shut the door behind me. The dark blue unicorn with a pale purple mane and tail sitting behind the desk looked up after a few moments of determined looking but bogus paper shuffling. Irritated that his act of being terribly busy but managing to find a little time for the client was apparently wasted, he returned to actually doing some sort of paperwork. I let that drag on for a few moments before returning his ‘shot across my bows’ with a broadside of my own! Without bothering to become visible in any way, I stated, “We need to talk. Specifically, we need to discuss the fifteen year delayed payment of the Grumpeter Goat life insurance claim.” He gave away that he knew exactly what I was talking about by his ghastly start and near choking before he managed to snap, “I have no idea what you are talking about!” “Really? Then your agent, or should I say accomplice, was lying to the nice police officers? You know, the ones who arrested him for trying to steal the original registered policy from the Hall of Records. He said that he was just following his boss’ orders. HIS boss. That would be YOU.” Trying to shift the conversation to safer ground, he demanded, “At least have the courtesy to show yourself!” That gave me an idea that was so mean and evil that I just had to do it! I faded slowly into view, my glamor spell taking the form of a maggot and corruption leaking goat zombie! I love glamors. They are such easy spells, once you get the hang of them. And I have had YEARS of practice! From his expression, Mister Stallheart (at least that is what his desk sign said) was not having the best of days! Score another one for the 'evil goat’! I reached into an apparently rotting saddlebag and produced my nice clean papers! I laid them on the desk in front of Stallheart. He recoiled from them as if they were deadly serpents. From his point of view, maybe the serpents would have been preferable. They were the copies of the policy with attached death notice, my death certificate, and the calculation of just how much they owed by trying to be cheapskates and not pay a goat. Stallheart tried to gather them all into one of the files on his desk. I placed a corrupted appearing but sturdy hoof on them. “Those are MY copies. If you need copies, I can make them for you. Only five copper a page. If you already have copies, then simply give mine back.” Stallheart had to open the file to get some of my papers back out. There, right on top, was THEIR copy of my death certificate. There were other papers under it. Considerably more than just the policy. More importantly it proved that the Grumpeter Goat file that he 'knew nothing about’ was right there on his desk! Even worse for him, it was the file that he had tried to sweep my copies into, meaning that he knew EXACTLY where it was. With ill grace, he returned my papers, stating, “I thought that you were giving me those copies.”