//------------------------------// // Scooting Towards Disaster and Raise This Chicken Coop // Story: To Serve Bronies // by Fuzzy Necromancer //------------------------------// "So, nopony's going to notice you tugging along a human-sized cloud?" Reiko whispered. Scootaloo braked her scooter and ducked her head inside the column of mist. "Everypony around here is used to the crusaders doing random things. To be honest, most ponies just keep out of the way, especially since Mayor Mare passed the ordinance forbidding us from coming within three-hundred feet of fireworks and outlawing retro-phrenology." Double Entry galloped to the other side of the road to avoid Scootaloo. She waved at him and grinned sheepishly. Her parents had sent out apologetic fruit baskets and burn cream after the Cutie Mark Crusader Charter Accountants incident. "I wonder why your other adventures didn't make it in to the show," Reiko sighed. "Then again, I guess G-rated television can't show the Cutie Mark Crusader Animal Husbandry or Cutie Mark Crusader Demon Summoners." "Don't you start lecturing me about that," Scootaloo said. "We only used three cups of blood from willing donors, it was only from the second circle of Tartarus, and Pinkie Pie ate it before it did any real damage. My parents grounded me for a week and confiscated all my chalk." Blossomforth spotted her coming and dived up a rain chute. Cheerilee just waved to her. "My parents confiscated my razor cell phone, my recycled paper sketchbook, and the planned parenthood pamphlet," Reiko said. "I still don't know what any of those things are," Scootaloo reminded her. The cloud was silent for a while. Scootaloo blew a raspberry and fanned more moisture into it to keep it firm. "Can't I just drop the disguise for a bit?" "The whole town went into a panic because a black-and-white horse visited town to buy herbs. I don't want to see what the flower trio do when a bipedal omnivore from another world shows up." Scootaloo felt like Reiko was having a conversation with a third person. It was kind of like asking mother what she did in Canterlot during the changeling attack, and how long it had taken her to realize she'd met up with imposters after they'd been separated. Scootaloo turned up the narrow slate path towards New Dream Valley. Magic schools were always set in quiet, out-of-the-way places so the unicorns could concentrate more easily. She sped down identical rows of rowan, ash, and willow trees. Star flowers tilted their faintly glowing buds away from the sun. Aside from the flutter of her wings, the spinning wheels of her scooter and the cloud-covered wagon behind it, and an off-key whippoorwill, nothing disturbed the silence. "Your really cleaned yourself up there at the clubhouse," Scootaloo said. "We could have used somepony, sorry, somebody like you when we tried out for our Farm Equipment Juggling cutie marks, or the seven-eyed crab training cutie marks." "I'm good at treating cuts in hard-to-reach places," Reiko said. Her voice was quieter and rougher. "Anyway, they were just flesh wounds." She chuckled. Scootaloo spotted Rarity trotting up the next gentle slope. She was wearing something fancy-ish with yellow and green. "Just the mare I was looking for. Hey, Rarity!" Scootaloo called. She stopped at the apex of the hill. Rarity turned around. "Scootaloo? Oh, Scootaloo, how are you?" Rarity sounded genuinely pleased to see her. She pulled down her sunglasses. "And, I realize I might regret asking this later, but why are you pulling a cloud in a wagon?" Scootaloo whipped out a set of bongo drums. Diamond Tiara, Silver Spoon, and even her friends had laughed at her for carrying around bongo drums everywhere, but she knew that one day she'd have the perfect reason to perform an improvised drum roll. "Rarity, allow me to introduce," she ramped up the crescendo, "your number one fan!" # Jamal screwed together the base of the coop without incident. There wasn’t any humorous, overly-literal misunderstanding about directions, or slapstick with dropped hammers, or things catching on fire. “You understand the blueprints okay?” Applejack asked, unwilling to trust so much good luck. “Now that you’ve explained the measurements, yeah,” he said. Applejack picked up a post with her mouth and tilted it into place. Jamal steadied it and started hammering it in before she even asked. He was certainly clever with tools. Those blunted claws gripped a nail like unicorn magic. Every time he lifted the hammer she braced for a yelp of pain, but the human had uncanny dexterity and coordination. They were much more agile together than a mouth and tail. “I’m not doing this out of some code of obligations or life-debt. I just feel like lending a hand.” She let go of the post as soon as he stabilized it. “Beg pardon?” “Sorry, it’s an expression, like lending a hoof.” “So, did you see everythin goin’ on during the Running of the Leaves day?” The back of her neck went cold. She’d hate to ruin the reputation of those three frisky colts from Cloudsdale, especially since one of them was a priest. “I already explained that,” Jamal said. Applejack reached down with her tail and gave him another nail. “Is there something in particular you’re thinking about?” “So, is this what you got your cutie, I mean, is this what you do back in human-land?” Applejack asked, eager to maintain her element of harmony. He paused with the hammer among the nail. “I used to. Still, I have to do something to put bread on the table, so I work at Taco Bell.” Applejack was about to ask why they needed bread, but then remembered the grass comment. If human’s couldn’t digest most weeds, the food supplies would be pretty limited. Any human that wanted to feed a family would have to take a job, and those hairless pelts wouldn’t keep out cold wind or hot sun. There’d be no easy-going vagrants like Flower Child or Sweetstuff. She raised the next post into place. Jamal didn’t talk much during work, and Applejack usually had her mouth full. He didn’t seem to need much instructing, and she learned quickly what his human body language anticipated. He didn’t try do everything for her, like Spike, or need constant direction, like Pinkie Pie. It was as easy and natural as raising a barn with Big Mac or Applebloom. Jamal stretched out the screen across the side of the coop while Applejack positioned the nails. The staple-gun tool he’d talked about sounded pretty useful, and maybe she could get Twilight Sparkle or Violet Tinker to whip one up. Something about the shape of Jamal made her think about Applebloom. Something brought to mind bedtime, tucking in Applebloom, blowing out the candle, something starting with ‘M’. She kicked in the nails and shook her head . It was gone now. They finished up the chicken coop in no time at all. Applejack drew up a list of other things for him to build and mend, and he went off happy as a pig in an herbal mudbath while she took the remaining phantasm flower seeds out to Applebloom in the southern carrot field. She sorted out a few more chores before she saw Jamal striding between the celery stalks towards her, carrying a pitcher of ice water. She unhooked herself from the plow and stuck her head in the pitcher, sucking it down before he even passed it over to her. Applejack panted and belched. “Sorry ah forgot to leave some for you. It’s just the walnut ranchin’ really took it out of me.” Jamal shook his head. “No, I got a drink already. I’ve just run out of things to do.” Applejack goggled. “You’re pullin’ one a’ my legs.” Jamal almost blushed. “I took a little break after I finished the barn repairs, but I’m through it all. It just feels so good to stretch out in the fresh air and get some real work done, you know?” Applejack grinned. “Tell ya’ what, help me milk the cows and then I’ll take you inside for a few sips of my namesake.” Jamal frowned. “What’s that?” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me hard spirits are illegal in New Jersey too.” “Oh no, I’ve just never heard of that drink before.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know ponies got drunk.” Sooner or later we’ll hafta sort out a lot of assumptions, Applejack thought. She couldn’t resist showing off the family farm as they trotted over to the stables. Evidently the lantern-machine didn’t show the rolling fields of barley or the succulent Anjou-pear tree. Jamal almost made her blush when he praised her stalks of heirloom tomatoes. When she plucked a ripe one for him to taste, he actually moaned. “This is the juiciest, tastiest tomato I’ve ever tasted,” Jamal said. “I mean, there’s just not much flavor in the ones I’ve seen, and normally the only kind I can afford are the slices on a McDonald’s h-sandwich.” “There must be a few things I could teach your human gardeners then,” Applejack said, trying and failing to keep the smugness out of her voice. Daisy and Cornflower lifted their heads from the water trough. “Good afternoon ladies! Ah just brought in some, er, new help today. Hope ya’ll don’t mind the change,” Applejack hollered. “Just as long as he doesn’t have cold hooves,” Bluebell called out from inside the stables. “Oh, I can’t wait!” Daisy said, batting her eyes at Jamal. “Now then, Daisy, don’t scare him off,” Applejack chided. That heifer would get downright saucy if she didn’t keep things strictly business. “I’ll start on the left, and you start on the right. Old Nelly won’t give you any trouble, and you’ll get the hang of it fast enough,” Applejack said. She turned to Jamal. Jamal fainted.