//------------------------------// // REJECTED Ask Before Petting // Story: Tales from a Con // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Ask Before Petting You spotted the pony in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. She—you assume, most ponies seem to be female—is studying the neatly-faced ranks of bright-colored cereal boxes. You know that companies pay extra to get the right shelf space, and for breakfast cereal it’s often kid-height. Bright boxes, appealing mascots . . . she tilts her head one way and then the other, her attention focused on a box of Lucky Charms before she decides against it. She’s got a basket beside her filled with the food she’s already selected. A box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch joins it and then her magic twines around the handle and she lifts it onto her back. You’re not sure what she is. She’s got an equine form and can use magic, but after that the differences quickly outweigh the similarities. Her coat’s a boring brown, she’s got scales on her back, cloven hooves; she’s got a leonine tail and mane, and her horn is more like an antler, instead of the neat spiral of a unicorn horn. Whatever she is, she’s adorable and you just want to pet her. Ponies love being petted, or being scritched behind the ears. “Cinder?” Her ears perk, and her head turns. A college-age girl with a cart’s at the end of the aisle, behind you. The pony—Cinder, apparently—picks up her basket in her mouth and trots towards her. “Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” She nods, and starts transferring her selections to the cart. The box of cereal, a value pack of Nature Valley Granola bars, a baggie of Atomic Fireballs. “You want to get dairy products next?” The girl shows the pony the list; she skims over it and nods, then trots down the aisle towards the dairy section. The girl turns her attention to the variety packs of instant oats as you head towards the dairy section. ••• Cinder’s deep in concentration at a cooler door, studying the variety of milk. Skim, two percent, vitamin D, and the brands don’t color-code consistently. You abandon your cart and step up beside her and reach your hand out, intending to run your hand down her back just to see what it feels like. Ponies love that—you don’t have any personal experience, but other people have told you that they’re very touchy. [CHOICE] >pet her (chaos) >ask her first, then pet her anyway (villain) [CHOICE A: Chaos] As she opens the cooler door and lifts up a gallon of milk, you make your move. You come up right behind her, and she’s so lost in concentration she doesn’t realize at all. Your hands settle on her back and it is scales, kind of like a snake but warmer. Out of the corner of your eye you spot her ears pinning back, and you feel her muscles tense as you close in on her tail. She kicks so fast you have no idea what’s happened; you feel a searing pain in your midsection as you’re suddenly launched back into an endcap, sending dozens of jars of Planters peanuts to the floor. The gallon of milk drops to the ground, splitting open as it hits. You’re sliding down the endcap as she turns, flames licking at the corners of her eye and around her horn; she pulls her lips back and reveals fangs. You’ve been lied to; ponies aren’t cute and cuddly at all—ponies are dangerous. [CHOICE B: VIllain] “Hey.” Her ears swivel, and she turns her head to face you. “Can I pet you?” She looks at you and then shakes her head. “Are you sure?” She nods, then turns her attention back to the milk. “I’ve got very soft hands,” you promise. That’s answered with a quiet growl, and for a second you spot a flicker of light on her horn that’s not the same as when she picked up the cereal. In hindsight, a clear warning you shouldn’t have ignored. She might have said no, but she obviously didn’t need it. She’s tense, and an ear-scritch would relax her, so you reach out and touch a velvety ear, trace your fingers down to the base and that’s when things go sideways. There’s no warning at all, just a sudden wash of heat and now you’re not touching a pony, you’re touching a fire—you’re arm deep in a fire. You’ve made a terrible mistake.