It had been three days since your brush with the miniature juggernaut called Lemon Drops and her vile employer Top Brass. Thanks to the rather spirited beating you had received from the former, you were now forced to keep a black eyepatch over your left shiner. Healing magic, it seemed, would cause some unpleasant side-effects to your vision if used at your early age.
Within four days, D-Cell would come back and exact his revenge. That left you four days to get ready.
If your brain could strangle you, it would have by now, seeing as how you had planned to just willow those four days away in a strange place; one that, as it turned out, your parents had heard off before.
You had made up your mind to go to Ponyville and find out what its citizens had done to change your filly friend so.
“Toothbrush?”
“Yeah, Mom.”
“Allowance?”
“Counting the bits right now, Pop.”
“Spare underwear?”
“Trick question, Mom. It won’t be winter any time soon.”
“Phone?”
“I’ve got my gizmos all set up, Pop – phone, GPS, can opener, and… a seltzer bottle? Pop – why’d you sneak this in here?” you say as you hold up the pranking apparatus.
“I filled it with parasprite repellant. I hear the little buggers are roaming that part of Equestria again.”
“I still don’t understand why you want to visit your relatives in Ponyville all of a sudden. We’ve never even had a family reunion there,” your mother wonders aloud. Her horn was glowing a faint salmon as she coiffed your tail into a more presentable shape. Ironically, her own red mane was frazzled into a ball of fuzz and split-ends. Bless this mare, you think. Fresh from counseling a hyperactive ADD colt and she still has the energy to help you on your quest of discovery. And on such short notice to boot.
Mental note: Thank Babs for teaching you how to pull off the googly-eyed puppydog look.
Post mental note note: Give Babs a nice, hard smack for sending you off to Ponyville in the first place.
“He’ll be fine, dear. Our second little man is a toughie. He takes after his great, great grand uncle-“
“ ‘Twice removed’, “ your mother states in perfect timing with your father. “I know, I know – if our cousin-in-law is anypony to go by, then Ponyville is safe as can be. I can’t help worrying, Barrel – he IS our son after all!”
“I was going to say ‘thrice removed,’” your father mockingly bluffs, a hearty smirk etched onto his snout. A big joker he is, but always a family stallion when it mattered most. He had always exuded this warm aura of support whenever he and you and a heart-to-heart. It was his destiny after all – to take the blows so that his friends could stay safe. It was hard to tell from his cutie mark alone, but his career was a shining example of the term “padded for safety.”
“Vaccine, please. I love our kids as much as you do; you know I do. I just think junior here needs to do this. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Mister, I remember those bones. I helped reset those bones when we first met; do not talk to me about those bones.” It was now your mother’s turn to make fun of your father. It was a quirky dynamic – your brother said that they usually did this to calm each other down. The laughter, the barbs, the faux bellyaches – they were all supported by a strong foundation of love. If that pink alicorn princess ever came to Manehatten, she’d have a field day with your folks.
To be honest, it was familiar. Sure, you had seen it from your parents first, but you couldn’t help wondering when else you had felt this feeling of safety.
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Knickknacks, doodads, and all manner of supplies bulging from your packs, you stepped into Grand Central once more. This was no time for happy reunions or spaced out adventures in fictional worlds – it was time for a hard-boiled investigation!
“Don’t forget your thinking cap, son! We love you~!”
Ugh.
This is so much more drawn out than just pressing Start, you muse.
“It’s a fedora, Mom! I need it for investigating!”
Heh heh. Smooth as usual, you devilish cur.
Ticket firmly in mouth, you stride forward to the teller. “One ticket to Ponyville, please.”
“Well, hello there, little feller! That’s a pretty nice hat ya got there – staying over for a convention I take it?”
“No, mister – I’m going on serious business,” you say with the straightest face you can muster. You were serious after all – nopony would have said otherwise.
“Alrighty – one ticket for the private eye! Keep that head on straight ‘fore ya get double-crossed by some shifty dames, ya hear?,” says the teller, punctuating his heavily-peppered Bronx advice with an air of playfulness.
“Thanks, mister. I’ll, um – I’ll just be going to the waiting area now,” you say, deflated.
Most ponies; MOST ponies would not have said otherwise. You always did find difficulty having grown ponies take you seriously.
“Well, that was… not how I wanted this to go, but I’ll take it. The sooner I can get to Ponyville, the sooner I can come back from it, fix Babs, and dig a hundred foot deep ditch to hide from D-Cell in.”
The train was coming in in about fifteen minutes.
“I hope I can find some answers there.”
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Your initial train ride was mostly uneventful; you had just spent the better part of forty minutes getting chatted up by a jovial mare who was on some sort of cross-country vacation of hers. If you remember right, she let slip that she was heading to the Crystal Empire in a few months. She may have been at least twice your age, but she had the same enthusiasm that some schoolponies were chastised for. So much jibbering and jabbering, emphasized with the rather loud “Hoo-WHEE!” made the trip rather memorable to say the least.
If you didn’t know any better (that is, if you weren’t being talked to by this mare face -to-face), you could have sworn that the butter-colored pony was a filly half your age.
Even in a place easily more than a few hundred kilometers away from the Big Apple: some ponies never change.
The second ride was on the saccharine Friendship Express. Laying eyes on it, all you could say for sure was that this train wasn’t built for efficiency or speed. Without the magic imbued into its candy-cut shapes and odd furnishings, this couldn’t possibly make it to any of its destinations in a quick enough time. Then again, the Grand Central trains were built by earth ponies along with unicorns – it’s no wonder that they had a technological edge over other mass transit vehicles.
You descend unto the train station, the crisp country breeze helping to ease some of your tension. The sky was a stark blue with no clouds in sight.
Oh, wait there’s one – no, never mind.
It was bashed away by a rainbow streak before you could get a proper look. Strange.
The Ponyville station echoed its ferries to a tee – a simple platform built around a little cottage, with a single teller. It was for the best, you assumed. Ponyville is surely smaller than Manehattan; it only makes sense that public mass transit weren’t built to handle as much traffic.
Before you can give your surroundings another quick do-over (“A tree with windows in it? How backwards IS this place?”), your view is blocked by a young Pegasus. His round eyes squint as if studying you, sizing you up as friend or foe. The little one obviously chooses the latter as he suddenly latches onto your face with the grip of an iron claw, cooing and babbling in glee as he squeezes into your skull. Before you pass out from the lack of air, he relents. However, his power hug seems to have caused some lasting damage – that housetree was… no – EVERYTHING was upside down!
“GAH! What in the world of Equestria IS this place?!?,” you bellowed as you immediately began to picture how much harder Basic Geography would become.
“Oh my! Pound, Pumpkin – put your cousin down!” says a worried voice. It belonged to a stallion – a rather tired sounding stallion at that. You had half a mind to tell off this stranger for siccing his demon spawn after you… until he addresses you by name.
“Do I… know you?” you ask cautiously. The stallion standing a few feet from you was a yellow, gangly earth pony, dressed up in a white apron, an orange bowtie, and a small orange and white hat. Upside down or not, he didn’t look at all threatening. His green eyes weren’t dull nor did they communicate malice. They held a look of concern, almost as if he were…
“Oh, that’s right! You were too young to remember when we first met. I’m your Uncle Carrot Cake and these two youngsters are your cousins: Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake – now, Pumpkin, be nice and let your cousin down. His face is starting to turn purple.”
Right on cue, you are swerved right side up and plopped quickly back onto the platform. The speed of it all leaves you discombobulated; subsequently leading to a quick floor plant, jaw first. Indignity aside, you were glad to see a friendly face here in stranger lands.
“Uncle” Carrot Cake is a distant cousin of your father, or so the latter recalled; he had phoned ahead to make sure you had a place to stay. You could make out some family resemblances such as his freckles and his walking gait. His cutie mark, a trio of frosted brown cake slices, caught your eye. “Cooking sweets? Never really thought about that,” you muse to yourself. Another thing that stood out was just how much reserve this thin stallion had. He managed to juggle a smack-happy pegasus pony (whom you assumed as Pound Cake) and magical firecracker of a unicorn (Pumpkin Cake, probably) as well as a newly arrived earth pony foal.
The twins were a more familiar site, considering how much each one resembled your siblings. Oddly enough however, the genders were reversed: your big brother Power Chord the unicorn was now in the form of a happy little unicorn filly, yellow coat and all, munching away on a rubber chicken her father had just given her; your tall pegasus sister Palette Swap had now lost all of her artistic grace and traded her long, drooped mane for a brown baby’s pompadour.
Dusting yourself from your fall, you manage to shakily introduce yourself to your uncle. He gives you time to steady yourself before leading you off to your temporary abode. “I take it the train ride went smoothly? We don’t often get visitors from busy cities.”
“It was fine, Uncle Carrot. Certainly made some interesting conversation,” you recall, slightly amused.
“I still can’t believe your parents let you go on two train rides and stay here in Ponyville all by yourself. I thought Padd would be more… I don’t know – bothered that his youngest son would travel so far! And what about Vaccine Booster? She couldn’t have liked this.” Uncle Carrot’s voice betrayed worry and wistfulness. You could hear his concern for you as well as his desire to see his cousin, your father, Padded Barrel, again.
“I really needed this break, Uncle Carrot. Besides, Pop said that you were great with kids and that four days wouldn’t be enough to make you start pulling out you hair,” you joke. The stallion looked like he needed to lighten up.
“If it makes you feel any better, Mom and Pop really did worry about me. I had to split a few hairs and make some bargains to even get them to consider my trip. They both have their own outings right now too and I managed to convince them that I’d be safer here than in Manehattan.”
You promised to take on a few extra chores and to get your grades up, but in the end, Babs’ patented puppydog stare was what got them to crumble. The small advantages that came with youth – you usually forgot about them, but at the time, you couldn’t be more thankful.
“Ha ha – that sounds about right.. All right, son. Cupcake, that’s your aunt, and I will take care of you while you’re here. We hope you get that rest you’ve been looking for. And if you’re in need of company, school will be out while you’re here – nothing says rounds out a vacation like making some local friends!,” he concludes warmly. You certainly didn’t feel averse to making some new friends, but they weren’t the priority here. As cold as it was, all Uncle Carrot and Aunt Cupcake were here for was to provide you a place to stay while you did your investigation. New friends could wait – an old friend needed you more than she ever did.
Eventually, you arrived at a large house made to look like a confectioner’s ice cream dream. Its large chocolate and icing-laden roof loomed over your small head. It filled you with a sense of marvel, a sense of awe, and an even greater sense of…
*grumble~*
Hunger. Those donuts didn’t last as long as you’d hoped.
“Ha ha. Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, son. This is where you’ll be staying for the next couple of days. Let me bring your things up to your room and you can go ahead and help yourself to some pretzels.” Uncle Carrot winks at you and pulls of your saddlebags. As he ascends the stairs, you take in the heavenly scene about you. Small tables held assortments of delectable confections and a glass display showed even more tasty treats for a hungry pony to eat. Shelves in the adjoining rooms were lined to the brim with wrapped candies and toffees. The lobby itself felt welcoming and, as fate would have it, sweet. Candy cane pillars held up the roof and buttresses with candies etched into them completed the “at home” feeling. It’s magnificent to behold; truly a candy paradise.
A single plate of large pretzels was placed on the glass display. Helping yourself to a morsel, you plan your approach. “I should start with the library. That could help me get some vital clues around this joint.” You could try city hall as well, but there was little to no chance that big political ponies would make time for a kid visitor. Nope – you are all alone in this caper.
Something makes you stop your thinking and your enjoyment of your sumptuous treat. That same feeling that you were being…
Oh, right – Pound and Pumpkin Cake were still here with you.
The little ones had grown enamored with you after your wobbly performance back at the station. You look at them and flash a quick smile; they respond in kind, beaming you large, toothless grins. Although they continue to busy themselves by roughhousing and play, they would occasionally saunter back to you, point and make unintelligible noises and then go back to their usual affairs.
They still reminded you greatly of your own siblings back in Manehattan.
You take a mighty gulp and shout to the pony upstairs, “Thanks, Uncle! I hope I’ll enjoy my stay here!” You pause and add, “The pretzels were delicious!”
Carrot Cake steps down from the flight of stairs and gives you a big smile. “It’s no problem at all, son. I left your things in the employee guest room at the top. I brought out the spare bed near the window. Now, business hours start back in five. You should probably go out and catch some sun while I get the counter ready.”
“All right. I think I should do that. Um, any idea where the town library is?”
“I didn’t think you’d want to coop yourself up so soon after I’d told you to go,” Carrot Cake chides. “It’s that big oak tree from across the station – you can’t miss it. It’s called Golden Oaks Library.”
“Oh,” you say. “Okay. I’ll be back in a couple o’ hours. Thanks again!”
Adjusting your eyepatch and fedora, you step out into the afternoon sun.
“First day in Ponyville. So far, so good.”