//------------------------------// // Dumplings with Ponies and Chocolates Alone // Story: To Serve Bronies // by Fuzzy Necromancer //------------------------------// "--but ya'll definitely don't get to see any of us usin' the lil fillies room, right?" Applejack said. It had been a long, long talk. The human nodded emphatically and polished off the last crumbs of his apple dumpling. “Nothing gross like that. The closest it ever got was a shot of Pinkie Pie going into an outhouse.” Applejack frowned at Jamal the "human". There was a little twitch around his lips, but none of the false heartiness or shiftiness she’d expect from somepony-from somebody shoveling this huge a load of horse apples. Still it was all a lot to take in, and most of it sounded beyond belief. “But ya’ll didn’t see me at the races, or find out why I left ponyville until my friends caught up t’ me?” Twilight Sparkle had told her something about scrying magic during the sleepover with Rarity, but the unicorns got off on a thaumaturgical tangent and she'd lost interest. Either the spell was fixed to a particular place, or fixed to a single person. But from everything he said, humans didn’t really have magic, at least not the predictable, instant-result kind. Trustworthy or not, the whole story didn’t add up. “Pardon me if ah take all this with a lick a’ salt,” Applejack said, “but none of this tall Pinkie tale explains how you got here.” Jamal opened his mouth, frowned, and shook his head. “You’re right. I’ve been trying so hard just to process that I’m here and figure out if it’s real that I haven’t even asked myself how I got here. I just remember everyone rushing around because John De Lancie was missing, and opening something that I thought was the bathroom door, only a second later I realized it wasn’t and then…singing. Like, a sort of star singing in my bones.” He shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.” “Fraid not,” Applejack replied. Maybe whatever happened had fried his noggin good, or maybe it had been a little crispy to start with. She cleared her throat. “Right before this thing happened, did you happen to eat any strange mushrooms, phantasm flowers, or pet medication? Only, I remember one time Big Mac got his back pain pills mixed up with Winona’s deworming tablets, and he started wearing clothes all the time and declared himself the empress of Cloudsdale.” She frowned. “Did ya’ll see that on your color-lantern machine too?” “This is the machine you don’t believe exists, right?” said Jamal. His lip peeled back to show those little fangs. “No offense.” Applejack snorted. “I just want to get your story straight. I can’t help if it’s harder to follow than a drunken displacer beast.” Jamal looked really angry for a moment. “I don’t use illegal drugs of any kind. Ever. I don’t eat mushrooms that aren’t safe for an omelette, or snort or shoot up anything. It’s kind of a sensitive subject with me.” “Whoa there,” Applejack said. “I didn’t say nothin’ bout anything illegal.” That was the frustrating thing about humans. You’d go along talking easy as anything, and then something innocent you say would strike a nerve. “What did you think I was implyin, that you’d steal a little old lady’s glaucoma medicine?” Jamal shook his head and pushed his hay fries around on the plate. They were growing cold but he hadn’t touched them, or the daisy cakes. “They’ve got some different laws in New Jersey.” A silence stretched out a little. She wasn’t good at reading human body language, but something in the smell of his sweat and the weak little motions suggested old fear. She decided not to push the issue. “You’ve uh, hardly touched your hay fries,” Applejack said. Jamal pushed his plate over. Aside from the dumplings and the Welsh Rarebit, he hadn’t touched any of the food. Maybe he felt more upset than he was letting on? “I’m sure you’re cooking’s great,” Jamal said hastily. “I mean, the dumplings were fantastic, and I’ve never had that cheese-toast stuff before, but humans can’t eat most of that pony food.” “Oh yeah?” Applejack said. “You mean ya’ll don’t farm vegetables?” She felt intrigued in spite of herself. “Well we grow most of them,” he said. “Corn, carrots, peas, all the fruits and stuff, but we can’t digest grass. Most of our food is made of grain or me-meal. Oatmeal and things like that. But not raw oats.” He blinked seven times and covered his mouth. Applejack let the evasion pass. Whatever the embarrassing secret was, he’d come clean with it eventually. “Well, it’s been an interesting chat, but the new chicken coop isn’t going to build itself. You can help yourself to some carrots if you’re still hungry, and maybe have a chat with Granny Smith. She’d appreciate the company. Just uh, wait until she’s in a good mood. She still gets a might skittish around Everfree crea-characters.” Applejack nosed open the kitchen door. Wherever that human came from, and however it knew way too many things about her and her friends, practical concerns came first. She’d barely gotten four steps away before Jamal caught up on his improbably agile legs. “There’s something I just have to know. Um, before you leave me alone.” He bit his tongue and took a few deep breaths. Applejack raised an eyebrow and waited. “Why do you have a southern accent?” he spat the question out. “You mean your ‘world’ doesn’t have north and south?” Applejack asked. The sun that stayed still and the moon that whizzed around all on its own were hard enough to swallow. She strained to keep a smile off her face. “Oh, they do. I just,” he frowned. He took out an odd shiny little object, covered in pink paint and glitter, with the intials “C F” painted in wobbly letters of purple. A tiny pin in a water-filled case spun around like a levitating pinwheel before settling on a neat little “N.” He hastily shoved the object back in his pocket and rubbed his eye. “Do you think I could help out? With the building I mean?” There was a note of pleading in his voice. “I mean, I need to repay you for all your hospitality.” “Hospitality don’t need payin,” Applejack said firmly. “I insist,” he said, with an eager smile. Applejack groaned. Sweet Celestia’s saddle, this is gonna be like Spike’s dragon code all over again. # Spike struggled to contain his excitement as he tugged the bell-pull for the third-floor apartment. This would be more romantic than an igloo made of ice cream. This would be better than a fire opal. This would be- An indigo and fuschia-maned earth pony trotted down the stairs. "Can I help you?" "Uh, I'm looking for Ms. Heartstrings?" Spike said. "I'm afraid you just missed her," the earth pony neighed. "She went out with a bunch of books and gem-lined traps. She said she's off to track down 'the most dangerous game' and said something about 'think like the quarry', but something about the way she laughed and rubbed her front legs together makes me think it isn't competitive lava-skating." Spike slumped. "I don't suppose she left any of her library books behind?" "I'm sorry," she said. "Maybe some free cherry liqueurs will cheer you up." She shoved a huge box into his hands and he stumbled out of the building. Spike frowned. "So much for that plan." At least he got some chocolate out of the deal. He popped one of the candies into his mouth before remembering that he hated cherry-flavored things, and one sip of cider on Nightmare Night had been enough to make him gag. Maybe he should give them away to somebody else. Rarity liked chocolates. He turned down the street and headed for the boutique. Yeah, I bet chocolate tastes really great after extra-rare human. He resisted the urge to drop-kick the chocolate box. Maybe Sweetie Belle would like it. She kept doing weird stuff, like asking him to tea parties, baking quartz-cakes for him (he hadn't even known you could burn quartz), and singing beautiful-sounding but badly-written songs about how the morning sunlight glistened off his scales. It was almost like she wanted something from him. Maybe a little chocolate would get her off his back for a while, so he could figure out another way to win over Rarity. What did he have to do to get her to love him? Honestly, why did Rarity have to be such a stupid, ungrateful high horse to him? Spike stopped in his tracks. He rubbed his ears and looked around, but there was nopony near him. "Did I think that?" Spike asked. A passing Pegasus stared at him, but nopony answered his question. He pinched himself and shook his head. He walked a little further. He was the stupid one, to think that he could catch a rare mythical beast and win over her heart. "It wouldn't have worked anyway," he said, stamping along the broad paved road. Even if he had read the books and set up the traps, he'd probably catch his own tongue instead of a two-legged deer. Besides, Rarity could probably track down a wild creature faster in her streamlined whisper-thin camouflage. She'd outsmarted the Diamond Dogs after all. Opal crossed his path, nuzzling up against a grey stray. "What are you so happy about?" Spike yelled. The alley-cat cringed, but Opal just gave him a haughty glare and strode on. He tried not to imagine Rarity nuzzling up to him that way. He tried not to imagine wrapping his arms around her, kissing her smooth lips, rubbing his face against her soft white fur, on top of a mountain, or on the bridge of a dirigible, or in front of an ocean sunset. His imagination faltered there. He felt the vague sense that something else was supposed to happen after that, but couldn't figure out what. Maybe they would kiss a lot and eat ice cream, or bounce on the bed, or build a fort? Spike sighed. In a way, he felt relieved that the decision had been taken out of his hands. He brightened up. Twilight Sparkle would probably need somebody to carry trapping supplies and rations for her while she hunted the two-legged deer. He could still be a number-one assistant, and it would almost be as good as bringing one to her all by himself. He just had to drop off these chocolates first. Maybe Rarity would be impressed by his generosity to her little sister.