//------------------------------// // "Polite" Pilot // Story: Love In Fame // by Rabbitude101 //------------------------------// As told in the view of Hoity Toity. I opened my eyes and looked around. Wha-What is this place? And oh, how my cheek hurts! Ow, ow, ow, I complained to myself. Huh-this sofa is made of velvet. A wooden table? A shaded lamp? A chandelier?! I got up sharply, though my head really hurt from whatever that was. Ever since I felt the soft, expensive velvet on this couch I knew this must be the house of a fairly wealthy person. Then a varnished wooden table, a lamp which actually had a shade, a bright, shiny, beautiful chandelier! I owned that stuff too, and I, Hoity Toity, was a millionaire! Who else could be as rich as me? Great Barbaloots!!! I studied the furniture in this building-wait-this pony… can’t be… richer than me?! No, it must be a hotel! Nopony else could be so wealthy for such fancy house furniture. “Pah! So you vinally voke up, you veakling?” That mare again? “So, this is your house?” I said impudently, when I suddenly realized that I had asked her a stupid question. How could this heavenly mansion be her house? I already-probably correctly-assumed that this was a hotel. “I mean, why did you bring me to a hotel?” I quickly corrected myself. Nopony could break my pride. Nopony. Ugh, my cheek hurts when I talk. “Vhat?! A… a… HOTEL?!” Photo Finish screamed. It’s not a hotel? “Zell me,” she continued-her voice a bit tamer now-“Is zhere a-vhat do you call zhose-receptionist? Desk-mare? Desk-stallion? Desk-caretaker? Room-booker?...” That stupid mare, I rolled my eyes. “Just… just do “receptionist”.” I replied. “Yes, “receptionist”. Zell me, do you see a receptionist here zo book zhe rooms? Do you see any bellboys avound here zo carry your luggage? Do you see any shelf ov keys? Do you see ANYZHING zhat shows zhat zhis building is a hotel?!” She had slowly walked over to me all the time she was talk-no, screaming at me, and now she was making me deaf in both ears, plus spraying spit all over my-oh, my poor, poor face! “Well, I daresay, your disgusting, absolutely revolting saliva is spraying all over my precious, clea-well, used-to-be-clean main appearance!” I wish I could just tear Photo’s dress apart and use the pieces of cloth to wipe my darling face. But that is out of the question with THIS mare! I angrily grumbled to myself. She totally hates me, and I hate her! She is a doofus, a coconut, a roof-snatcher, a… I mumbled all sorts of things under my breath. While I was grumbling and mumbling, I hadn’t noticed, but I think Photo got absolutely angry. I don’t know exactly what WAS the fuss, but out of nowhere (well, maybe out of her arm socket) Photo’s arm swung up, came closer to my cheek-the one that hurt-and closer, closer, closer… “OOF!!!” My cheek that hurt so much now stung me like a bee-no, a wasp’s sting hurts more, yes-I mean, like a wasp. In fact, it swelled so much, I think I blacked out. When I painfully opened my eyes again, I was lying down on the floor, I think. Yes, the floor. There was no carpet, so my whole body ached from that fall… “EEEEEEEKKKKK!!!!” I screamed. Later Photo would never let me tell other ponies that “it was NOT like a girl’s scream, it was rather a manly scream.” Well, anyway, that scream was not unnecessary because my beautiful shape was covered in a blanket of bruises! If I sat, it hurt. If I stood, it hurt. Even if I mumbled, “Good morning,” it hurt. If I… “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know already! You don’t have zo repeat it each zime I come inzo zhe room!” I realized that I said all that stuff out loud-probably multiple times-and Photo Finish was very annoyed. “Huh!” I scoffed. “That shows how much you DON’T care about the guest in your house!” “Zhen, go home!” “I can’t! You gave me all these horrid bruises!” “Zhen vhat do you vant?!” Well that question was a surprise. “Well, what-what guts!” I choked. I just desperately needed to say something even if it didn’t make sense. “Well… then… what do YOU want from me?” I spluttered. I never acted like this before! I am Hoity Toity! I only live for my pride… right? Well anyways, now it was Photo’s turn to be caught off guard. “M-muh-muh-me?!” She stammered. Aha! She is worse than me! She stammers! “Vell, I uh, I… I… uh… vell, I don’t know.” Then she switched back to Photo Finish… style mode. “Vell, it vould be anyzhing but you staying in my house any longer!” I, Hoity Toity, was taken aback by this horrible statement. How dare this mare try to make me feel so inferior?! “What a despicable mare you are! And, I think I know my “want” now. I want to get out of this garbage dump, and I want to get away from this stinky mare that lives in it!” And with that, I stood up-because I had been sitting down- and, covered in bruises, I slowly, painfully, crawled to the door. Fortunately, Photo Finish doesn’t care much about her house being called a garbage dump. Unfortunately, she cares very much about her own smell. “ME?! A “STINKING MARE”?! I’LL TELL YOU WHO “STINKS” YOU IMBECILE, YOU COCONUT, YOU…!” I think I passed out at the last “you”. When I finally came to, I hoped this would be the last time today that I would be lying down on the floor unconscious. Wait, I’m on my back. How weird. And Photo Finish is standing next to me, looking very worried. No, scared. Anxious? Hold on a minute… “WWAAAHHHHH!!!!!” I yelled. I quickly sat up. Usually a character of high self-esteem would not do that, and I am one of them, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “What are you doing?!” I asked in shock. “Saving your live!” Photo replied. “Vhen you passed out, I saw zhat your heart vasn’t beating, so I did… uh… vhat do zhey call it?” “First-aid.” Deadpan face moment. Wait. If she did that first-aid thingy, that would mean she… “Did you… did you… KISS me?!” I madly shook her by the shoulders while she blushed blood red. “It’s not considered a kiss… it vas vor your live!” She half-mumbled half-spoke. “Why do you care for my life?” Huh. I knew she couldn’t resist me! “Because iv a dead body-Hoity Toity’s at zhat-is vound in here, vhat can I zell zhe Stallion Police Station zo clear myself?!” She shouted. Oh. It was for herself. It was for her life. For… for her own reputation. Why was I feeling sad? Because even a stupid stubborn mare doesn’t care for me, so why should others? That’s why. I let go of Photo’s shoulders and we both sat there on the floor, both feeling pitiful for ourselves, both feeling sympathy for each other, though both had no plans on showing that sympathy. Both acted too proud. Both were too proud.