After the signing of a few documents (which was not quite a difficult job for two literate unicorns), Michael and Night Shade officially owned the building. Night Shade’s mouth dropped at the sight of all those zeros, and it dropped even more with how little hesitation Michael gave in the signing of a check. Of course, for he had little money on him; like any notable salesman, he kept the majority of his funds in the hooves of the Bank of Equestria.
The number on the check would only come to grow as they began evaluating the condition of the architecture. It seemed so much prettier and stable on the outside than it did on the inside. There was a room which appeared to have been used as a dinner theatre: plenty of run-down, empty space within the barren, wooden walls of the crass wallpaper which once lined the walls, and a stage at the far end which had seen better days. Half the lights which rested on the perimeter were either missing or broken beyond repair, and what was left intact was covered in a layer of thick dust, as if they had not been handled in ages.
“How much would restoring this room alone cost?” Night Shade asked as he surveyed it from the center, his meek voice echoing through the hollow hall. Michael stood nearby in observation.
“A pretty penny,” he replied. “Quite a pretty penny. Perhaps a few pretty pennies.”
“As if we even use pennies as currency,” Night Shade remarked, approaching the stage. He climbed aboard from the ground since the few stairs were too damaged to safely ascend. He cupped his hooves over his mouth. “Echo!” he exclaimed into the shadows. His voice reverberated off the walls and reflected back to him and Michael. “Wow,” more echo. “It sure does echo a lot in here…”
“That I think we can control,” Michael replied, stepping closer to the stage. “Although this room is quite spacious, I take it if we buy some tables and chairs – or find some – the extra matter will minimize the reverbs.”
A look of astonishment suddenly came upon Night Shade’s face. “You mean we’re going to invest more money into here?”
Michael eyed Night Shade. “Of course. You have to spend money to make money. That’s the first thing they teach in business school…the second being about supply and demand. But you don’t have to have taken business school to know that a dump like this will attract nopony except maybe a few wandering hobos looking for a shelter. But our intention is not to set up a shelter for hobos: we are intending to establish an Equestrian hotel. And hotels look formidable.”
“But, the money-”
“Stop worrying about the money!” Michael exclaimed. “I am the salesman. Let me worry about the money. You worry about your side of the hotel, okay? Let the pony with the money worry about the money, and the pony with the social skills worry about the atmosphere. I want this place looking attractive and pleasing to the eye. I don’t doubt you will be able to provide a pleasant décor.”
Night Shade seemed disheartened. “What makes you think I’m capable of decorating this place?”
Michael answered with zero hesitation, “You’re from Canterlot. You’ve spent your life around high-end ponies and architecture. Sure, there is no hotel in Canterlot, nor in all of Equestria for that matter, but I firmly believe anypony who has spent their life in Canterlot has inherited its high-end classiness from simple prolonged exposure. As an entrepreneur, I don’t exactly have that kind of exposure.”
Night Shade did not reply.
“I hate to stereotype like that, but-”
“No, it’s okay,” Night Shade interjected. “I…many important ponies are from Canterlot. Twilight is from Canterlot. As is Hoity Toity. Your stereotype is…rude, but accurate. I’ve not seen many ponies from Canterlot who end up like the hobos this building would house.”
Silence.
“Very well,” said Michael, breaking the silence. “C’mon, let’s take a look around, see what else there is to see. Try to get an estimate on our total renovation cost, or our TRC. Keep that in your head, boy.”
Michael began to exit the theatre, Night Shade hopping down from the stage and joining him. They approached an elevator at the entrance to the vacant building. Michael confidently pressed the button to activate it. Nothing happened.
“Dead lift system, I see,” he mumbled. “That’s going to cost some.” He continued his walk. “C’mon, we’ll take the stairs.” He was referring to the grand staircase which, unfortunately, did not look so grand. Nearly every step was broken, trashed, or just plain absent, and the two unicorns had to watch their hoofing with every step they took.
“Where are we going?” Night Shade inquired.
“Anywhere,” Michael replied. “Anywhere with storage space. I’m hoping we can save a few bits by salvaging some old furniture that lousy owner forgot to take with him. At least temporarily.”
It was a painless, but definitely time-consuming search, as the ponies were unfamiliar with the layout of the hotel. But Michael and Night Shade finally saw their shadows be casted onto a door labeled STORAGE ROOM. Using his magic alone, Michael opened it promptly.
Inside there was indeed some dusty, old furniture: worn-out tables and chairs and unlabeled crates stacked against the back wall. Michael used the magic of his horn to utilize his prowess into a portable lantern, which he thus used to navigate the room until he found a switch that lit up the room from a single bulb which flickered once it was activated.
A groaning sound came from afar.
“What the heck was that?” inquired Night Shade.
“It sounds like somepony’s here,” Michael replied. He cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on the darkness. “Hello…is somepony there?...Please come forth…we mean you no harm.”
Among the shadows rose a strange-looking earth pony: pale-red, gaunt, and unpleasant to the eyes. He emerged from a large pile of crates cast away from the shadows of the dimly lit environment, and presented himself in the light. And he spoke like a mental patient.
“You are who?” asked he.
“My name is Michael and this is Night Shade. We are the new owners of this building. Better question is, who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I am Yuri,” he answered with a rather gay look on his face, as if he had just been to a party hosted by Pinkie Pie. “I have home here.”
“Home?...You call this rust bucket your home?”
Yuri nodded. “I am not welcome by manager. For he feel I am trespasser. But is not so. I am home here – indeed, indeed – here I am home.”
Night Shade and Michael glanced at each other, both of them sharing the same facial expression of total amazement. They could barely understand what this crazy pony was attempting to say. It was here they noticed that the earth pony who claimed his name was Yuri had a cutie mark which was only a block. A single, yellow block on his flank.
“Listen here, good stranger-”
“Strange is right,” Night Shade interrupted.
“Shh!” hissed Michael. He turned back to Yuri. “You are welcomed here. We intend to convert this…this wasteland into a hotel for Ponyville and the rest of Equestria…would you be interested in having the honor of being our first tenant?”
“Is tenant I am to be!” Yuri exclaimed. He began jumping excitedly around the room for a few moment and then ducked behind his little shelter of crates and retrieved a rubber turtle, which he set in front of the unicorns and pointed to it enthusiastically. “It is turtle! He knows too much!”
The expression of perplextion shared between Michael and Night Shade grew all the more so that moment.
“He say his name is Frog. And he knows all of the things. For he is wisest. And he say I am to be rich and most famous.”
“Ah-huh…” Night Shade muttered.
“And he say I must find the Weevil.”
“The…Weevil?”
Yuri nodded with great enthusiasm. “Yes! The Weevil!”
“There are no bugs in Equestria, you blockhead!” Michael exclaimed. “Especially no weevils. The only destructive bug in Equestria are those parapsrites.”
“But – Weevil!”
It was clear that Michael and Night Shade were not going to make any conversational progress to the one called Yuri. He was clearly not listening, and was too deluded to coherently respond to whatever they said.
“Weevil! I must find!” Yuri ran past the two unicorns and disappeared into the ruins of the hotel.
“Well…I’ve had better first impressions, what about you?” Michael inquired his friend.
“I think a conversation with the biggest narcissist in Equestria would have gone better.”
They stared in silence as the earth pony exited the hotel. The sound of banging metal and the rustling of garbage was heard. A few moments later, Yuri returned with a large, strange creature, which did not look native to the Equestrian world. He set it on the ground at the entrance to the building and pointed to it.
“Weevil!” he hollered, his voice echoing through the empty halls to the ears of the owners.
Michael and Night Shade joined him downstairs. There they got a better look at the creature Yuri had retrieved from a rotting dumpster outside. It had two large, droopy eyes which looked like it had not slept in months, enormous ears, and two long, paper-thin arms with disproportionately massive hands and legs so deprived of minerals you could practically see bone. It was round, stout, and had no neck; rather its head looked completely and utterly glued to the rest of its body. Its skin looked unhealthy. And the clothing it wore was ugly and torn. It was nearly bald, and the few strands of hair remaining on its head were frail and disheveled.
“What the hell is that thing?” Night Shade whispered to Michael.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Michael mumbled in response. “I think it’s that Weevil thing he keeps blabbering about.”
“He clearly won’t listen to reason.”
“To heck with listening to reason – this guy won’t listen to English.”
“I think it is best we keep an eye on him.”
“How?”
“The turtle. Go get the turtle. And store it in an architecturally sound room. We’ll lock him in his room with the turtle.”
“What about the Weevil?”
“Fine. The Weevil and the turtle if he wants. Just as long as he gets in the room and stays there.”
“What if he tries to escape?”
“I doubt he will.”
Michael left for a few minutes and returned empty-hooved.
“Mister Yuri,” he began. “I placed your precious turtle in a suite where you can stay. We are in the process of remodeling, and we would very much appreciate it if you stayed out of our way. Your presence here will only impede on our effort. Would you like us to move your…Weevil there, too?”
“Weevil!” the stranger exclaimed.
“Yes, yes, Weevil.” Michael picked it up with his magic and began to carry the disgusting creature to the room he found for the strange pony.
“Weevil!” Yuri started following Michael. And Night Shade followed them both. Michael threw the Weevil into the room. Yuri ran in after it. Michael slammed the door shut and locked it. He swept his hoof across his forehead.
“The window’s boarded up. He won’t be getting out of there anytime soon.”
“What are we gonna do about him?” Night Shade inquired. “We can’t just lock him in that room for the rest of his life.”
Michael pondered that. “Or can we-”
“No, we can’t! Look, I know he may seem crazy and, well, insane. But he looks like a nice guy. Once we get a solid roster in here, we can let him out and socialize. Maybe being around many others who live here will kick him out of this insanity.”
“You realize that’s psychologically impossible, right?”
“I know; I’m trying to give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt.”
Michael sighed. “Look, whether or not he is insane, we can’t let him prowl the building. This is a rather dangerous place to be, and on top of that, we have work to do. He’ll just get in the way, and probably get himself killed in the process.”
Michael started off.
“Where are you going?”
“Where else? To the storage room where we found that blockhead. We still have furniture to move, you know.”
“Wait for me.”