//------------------------------// // Babysitting Sweetie Belle // Story: Living in Equestria // by Blazewing //------------------------------// By about 8 o’clock the following morning, I was walking up to Ponyville Pond. There, I saw a taxi-like wagon sitting outside Magnum and Pearl’s house. The two were just coming out at that moment. “Ah! Morning, Dave,” said Magnum. “How are ya, dear?” asked Pearl. “Pretty good, thanks,” I replied. “Looks like I’m just in time.” “Yep,” said Magnum. “Sweetie Belle’s still asleep, but should be up soon. We told her she’d be having a babysitter, but we left who it is a surprise. Here’s the spare key to the house, since she’s probably gonna wanna spend time with her little friends today.” Magnum handed me a small house key. “We’ll be back later tonight,” he continued, “and just in case we’re not back by 9, make sure Sweetie Belle gets to bed, all right?” “Got it,” I said, saluting. “Anything else I need to know?” “Just a couple things,” said Pearl. “She likes oatmeal with honey for breakfast, real easy to make. Also, if she wants to help, the best thing is to let her assist you a little. She likes helping out with whatever she can.” (Well, that’s pretty sound advice; lets her feel included. Still, what might happen if it goes too far?...) “You can count on me,” I said. “I knew we could, sport,” said Magnum, proudly. “See you tonight!” “Have fun!” I said. “Oh!” Magnum suddenly said, turning back around. “I almost forgot! We’re expecting an important delivery today, sometime between noon and 5. If you’re gonna be out again today, make sure you’re back in the house by then, so somepony can sign for it.” “Package, between noon and 5,” I rattled off for memory’s sake. “Consider it done.” “Swell! See ya later!” The couple got into the taxi, and the stallion at the harness started off at a brisk trot. Using the key, I let myself in, taking care not to let the door slam. The interior of the house was quite nice, though a little leaning towards ‘Sports Authority’ with its memorabilia hanging about: a football in a glass case, hockey sticks crossed together, a plaqued fish hanging on the wall. Magnum was surely an athletics phenom, but I wondered if Pearl was into that too. Kind of a stupid question, actually; she obviously liked bowling. There was also a grand piano in the living room. Did Sweetie Belle practice on that? So far, the only ones out of the Crusaders I had seen performing instruments were Scootaloo on the tribal drums and Apple Bloom on the harmonica. Now, for my part, I loved piano music, but I had never actually gotten around to taking lessons. A rather disastrous attempt at learning an instrument back in grade school made me iffy on the subject. Still, I doubt anyone could deny browsing around a music or electronics store and trying out a piano or keyboard on display, just for kicks. I had almost forgotten Sweetie Belle was still asleep, and sat down at the piano. In what felt like a prerequisite to playing piano, I ran my finger down the keys from one end to the next, then back again. Cautiously, I tested one key, then the next. I tried a simple piece I could hear in my head, but it came out very wrong. I tried again, but it only became slightly better. I now had a feeling that Beethoven had been lucky to be deaf; he didn’t have to hear the kind of sour notes amateurs belted out. My ‘recital’ came to a halt when I heard somepony giggling from somewhere above me. Looking up, I saw Sweetie Belle peeking through the railing of the second floor. “Ah! Sweetie Belle! Good morning.” “Morning! Are you my babysitter?” “I am. Hope you don’t mind.” “Nope!” said Sweetie Belle, coming down the stairs. “Mom and Dad didn’t say who’d be here, but I thought it might be you, so you could earn some more bits.” “Well, that’s one of the reasons,” I consented, “but I also thought it’d be fun to spend some time with you, when it doesn’t involve running all over the place looking for work.” “Aww, thanks,” said Sweetie Belle, rearing up to lean on the piano’s stool. “I didn’t know you played the piano.” “You call that playing?” I asked, incredulously. “I stink! That was all by ear.” “By ear?” asked Sweetie Belle, puzzled. “But you were playing with your hands.” “Nah, nah,” I said, “it means playing by memory alone.” “Ohh. Does that mean you have a bad memory?” “Well, I wouldn’t call it perfect,” I said, “but I guess I just need a little practice. Enough about that, though. Let’s get some breakfast started. Your mom said you like oatmeal with honey.” “Uh-huh!” I got up from the stool and made for the kitchen, Sweetie Belle trotting by my side. After locating the pantry, I began scouting around for the oatmeal. “Let’s see...oatmeal, oatmeal...Aha!” I grabbed the box and looked over the directions, but was interrupted when I felt Sweetie Belle tug at my pant leg. “Can I help?” she asked, gazing up at me with her big, adorable eyes. “Please?” She needn’t have gone that far. I would have let her assist me anyway, as per Pearl's suggestion. “Of course, Sweetie! You can, hmm…” I glanced at the box again. “Fetch me a saucepan.” Sweetie Belle scampered off, while I rummaged about for some salt and a measuring cup. There was a loud crash from behind, and I turned uneasily around to see Sweetie Belle with a saucepan in her mouth, held by the handle in her teeth, with the rest of the cookery spilled out onto the floor. “Err, thanks, Sweetie,” I said, receiving the saucepan and placing it on the stove. “We’ll get that later. Now we need a little water and salt.” Following the instructions on the box, I poured in about a cup of water and a pinch of salt, turning up the heat as I poured in the oatmeal. “Now this should take a few minutes,” I said. “In the meantime, do you know where the honey is?” “Yep! I’ll get it!” There was the sound of rustling and clattering of boxes and bottles as Sweetie Belle searched around. It sounded like she was just tossing stuff out to find the honey. “Nope. Nope. That’s not it. Eww, what’s that?” “Uh, Sweetie Belle, are you sure you don’t want me to-” “I got it, Dave, don’t worry,” said Sweetie Belle, in an idle tone, still tossing stuff out of the pantry. “Aha!” Finally, she unearthed a bottle of honey and brought it proudly over to me, while I cast a grim look at most of the pantry’s contents sitting on the floor. “Uh, good work, my little sous-chef,” I said, accepting the bottle. “What’s a sous-chef?” Sweetie Belle asked, puzzled. “It’s like a chef’s assistant,” I said. “Their second-in-command.” “Ooh! So that means I’m Mom’s sous-chef!” “You help her cook?” I asked, giving the oatmeal a stir. “She’s been giving me lessons. Well, Rarity has, too. I tried to make her breakfast in bed once.” “Aww, well that was nice of you. How did it turn out?” “She said it was ‘burnt’, but I didn’t think it was that bad. I even made her a hot bowl of toast.” “A...bowl of toast?” I asked, confused. “But, Sweetie Belle, toast is usually served on a plate.” “Is it? I thought it would spill everywhere if I did that.” “Spill? What do you-?” On second thought, maybe it was an Equestrian thing I shouldn’t question. “Well, you at least tried to do something nice for your sister, and I’m sure she appreciated it.” “Uh-huh! I always wanna be a big help to my big sister!” The oatmeal was starting to thicken, so I gave it a few more stirs, then added the honey, mixing it in. “Can I help stir? I’ve done it before.” Well, stirring was easy enough. It couldn’t hurt. “Of course, Sweetie. C’mere.” I lifted her up so she could grasp the spoon between her hooves. Unfortunately, she was a little haphazard, and splashes of hot oatmeal went flying, nearly splattering me in the face. “Nice and steady, Sweetie Belle,” I said, patiently. “Nice and steady.” Sweetie Belle hummed placidly to herself, ignoring the banging of the spoon against the side of the saucepan as she ‘stirred’. Still, it was a thorough job, and the oatmeal was soon ready. Not wanting to take any chances, I set Sweetie Belle down and ladled out two big bowlfuls of the stuff. I set them on the table, and Sweetie Belle set to it eagerly, while I ate at a more moderate pace. It was kind of odd watching her eat, solely for the fact that she was a unicorn. I’d seen Twilight eat by levitating her food or utensils, but Sweetie Belle gripped her spoon in that weird way pony hooves probably shouldn’t work, and ate that way. Come to think of it, I had never seen her display any traces of magic. Dinky had tried when we were helping Berry, but had failed. Were foals at her age even able to use magic? Finally, she was finished, and was already carrying her bowl on her back toward the sink. She was too short to reach it, even on hind hooves, but I had a feeling of what she was gonna attempt, and I sallied forth to stop her. “Up-bup-bup! Hang on, Sweetie, I got it.” Too late; she tried to lean up and put the bowl in the sink with her hooves, but it slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter, sending oatmeal splashes everywhere. I hoped to God the bowl didn’t break or crack. “Oops,” said Sweetie Belle, guiltily. “Sorry.” “Never mind, Sweetie, I’ll get it.” I scooped up the bowl and placed it in the sink, then went to grab some paper towel to wipe up the splatters. I even handed a paper towel to Sweetie Belle so that she could feel like she was helping. After that, I went to right the pans that had been upset in her search for a saucepan, then went to restock the pantry. Hopefully Magnum and Pearl weren’t the types who kept a super-accurate account of what went where in there, because I just tried to put in what went with each other. “Thanks for making breakfast, Dave,” Sweetie Belle said, once we were done. “You’re almost as good a cook as Mom!” “Well, I wasn’t born to cook, but thanks for the compliment.” “Come to think of it,” said Sweetie Belle, “I don’t think you said anything about getting a cutie mark yet. Did you, and you just haven’t been saying anything?” I froze. Had I ever told the girls humans didn’t get cutie marks? I didn’t remember doing so. “Er, no,” I said, putting my bowl in the sink. “I suppose I still haven’t found my own calling yet. I don’t really even have a job back at home. Well, not technically.” “But you’re old,” said Sweetie Belle, before correcting herself by adding, “Well, older. Aren’t you worried about being a blank flank all your life?” I hesitated. Should I really tell her humans weren’t able to get cutie marks? Wasn’t the whole point of me being a Cutie Mark Crusader the fact that I didn’t have one and was still ‘crusading’ for it? Besides, the only way I wouldn’t be a ‘blank flank’ would be to get a tattoo back home, and I was not doing that for any reason. I picked her up so that we were looking each other in the eye. “It doesn't bother me, Sweetie Belle,” I said. “Humans are capable of several talents, ones they don’t need a cutie mark to express. Besides, I’m just happy to be able to hang out with you kids and help you find yours. You’re all great friends.” Sweetie Belle smiled and put her little forelegs around my neck. “I like hanging out with you too, Dave. You’re a fun guy.” I smiled and patted her fluffy mane. “Well, now that we’ve got some fuel in the tank, what do you say we attack another Saturday? Well, at least before noon, that is.” “All right!” *** As it turned out, once the five of us were assembled again, we did come across another promising job: helping out Pinkie’s friend, Cranky. He lived in a quiet, humble little house not too far from where the Hooves family lived, though the house itself was full of memorabilia from all the places he had visited in his travels. In fact, it was his travels that had brought about what we were tasked to help him with. He had decided, in order to occupy his time and to make some money besides, to design his own travel brochures for the cities and towns he had visited. He had already made them, and we were given the job of folding them up and packing them into boxes. Contrary to his name, Cranky was actually a pretty pleasant guy. As Pinkie had told me, he had gone through several years trying to find his lost love, Matilda, and had come to Ponyville after giving up, not realizing that Matilda had been living in Ponyville the entire time. He had seen much in his travels, having ventured far and wide to find Matilda without success, and was willing to share his knowledge with the world. As we worked (I folded and the Crusaders packed), Cranky and I struck up a conversation. He told me about some of the places he had been to, like Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Baltimare, and Vanhoover. He had seen Foal Mountain, the little town of Tall Tale, the village of Hollow Shades, and Neighagra Falls. Obviously, one of the only places he hadn’t been able to visit was Cloudsdale, and he had doubted that Matilda would have somehow ended up there. While his primary goal had been to search for her, he still had the sense to take in the sights around him, and he had made a lot of friends in his wanderings. I had no idea how old Cranky was, but here was a guy who had been literally everywhere. Hearing about all these places made me realize even more just how huge Equestria really was, and I’d hardly seen a quarter of it, having stuck to Ponyville, with visits to Canterlot and the rock farm area. It gave me a slight hope that someday, Ironmane would have an assignment for me that would allow me to see one of these places. The pictures and descriptions Cranky posted in his brochures were all amazing. No tourist would complain about lack of info with these things. We wrapped up our work around lunchtime, and Cranky paid us 10 bits for our efforts. He even allowed me to keep one of the brochures I had folded. “Just in case,” he said. “You never know when wanderlust might strike. And tell Pinkie I said ‘hi’.” “I will. Thanks, Cranky.” The five of us took our leave of the donkey, and, since we still had some time left, I decided to walk Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Dinky back home. It turned out Apple Bloom had chores she needed to take care of (which Applejack turned into a game to ease the workload), and Scootaloo was having flying practice with Rainbow Dash in the park, which Dinky wanted to watch. As we walked, the conversation turned to the race. “It’s gonna feel awful weird to not have to go around lookin’ for jobs once this derby’s over," said Apple Bloom. “Tell me about it. It might even be before then, since we need time to actually build the cart.” “Do you think we’ll win?” asked Scootaloo. “Hmm. It’s kind of tough to say at this point, since we haven’t actually started building the cart yet. However, if we’re as diligent with it as we were in raising the money, I don’t see how we can fail.” “Ah just don’t want Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon to have another excuse for bullyin’ us," said Apple Bloom. “You’re not still letting them bother you, are you?” “We try not to, but they keep talkin’ about the cart Diamond Tiara had specially built, and the new racin’ outfit she’s gonna wear.” “Sounds like Diamond Tiara’s most of the focus right there. What about Silver Spoon?” “She’s not as bad as Diamond Tiara, but she’s still kinda rude sometimes.” It sounded like Diamond Tiara was something like an influence on Silver Spoon, like a lackey following a leader just so they wouldn’t get picked on themselves. But then, why would she have that worry? They had started teasing the Crusaders for being blank flanks, but Silver Spoon had hers, albeit one I couldn’t even begin to fathom the meaning of. Call it sappy, but I was the kind of guy who liked to imagine there being good in everyone. Somewhere, deep down, even those two couldn’t be as bad as all that. I was jerked out of my thoughts when I saw that we had reached Sweet Apple Acres. Apple Bloom bid us goodbye and scampered off to meet up with Applejack, while we made for the Hooves house, where Rainbow would meet the aspiring young flier. I had to learn to stop spacing out like that. It was starting to become a frequent issue. *** Thankfully, it was not yet noon by the time we got back to the house. “Ok, Sweetie Belle, while we play the ‘Waiting Game’ for the package, I’ll get some lunch started.” “I could help-” “No!” I said, before I could stop myself. Sweetie Belle’s ears lowered sadly, and I knew I’d goofed. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, Sweetie Belle. What I meant was, it’ll be easier if one of us is sitting around listening for the door while the other gets lunch ready. With all the noise you can make while cooking, you’d be hard-pressed to hear the door and be able to get there in time. See what I mean?” Sweetie Belle perked back up. “Uh-huh! I get what you mean. I’ll sit here, but on one condition.” “What’s that?” I asked, uneasily. “You let me make us both dinner!” “Huh?!” “It’ll be amazing! I promise!” What was I supposed to say? If I said no again, she might have a fit or start crying. That’s the problem with watching kids: they can be so volatile, yet we often forget we were once like that, too. “Ok,” I finally said. “I’ll let you cook dinner for us.” Sweetie Belle’s face lit up like Celestia’s sun. She zipped to the sofa and plunked her little hindquarters down, sitting in an attentive stance, one ear aimed at the door. I, for my part, went to the kitchen to get things started. (Ohh, why did I agree to something like that?...Well, we’ve all got to make compromises, I guess.) I righted the pantry stock and set up a pot for some mac and cheese, one of my specialties back home. All the while, I kept my ears strained for any sound of the door, just in case. But there was no knock, no doorbell, nothing. With my luck, the package would probably be here at 5, right on the dot. Well, no big deal. Sweetie Belle and I could still have fun while we waited. When I called for Sweetie Belle, she came trotting in and saluted. “Package has not yet arrived, sir,” she said, briskly. “At ease, cadet,” I said, grinning. Sweetie Belle then eagerly turned to look at her flank, which was unchanged. “Er, what are you looking for?” “A package-expector cutie mark! ...Aw, shoot.” (What would that even look like? A pony sitting on their rump and a box?) *** For such a little kid, Sweetie Belle had a sizeable room, but appropriately decorated for a little girl: pink wallpaper bedecked with hearts, wood floor with a flower-shaped rug in the middle, and a cozy bed with two pillows. On her bedside dresser was a framed photo of the entire family on what looked like a lake-side golf course, Magnum and Pearl together, and Rarity with a foreleg around Sweetie Belle, who was beaming. Sweetie Belle dug out some paper and crayons, and that brightened me up quite a bit. I wasn’t an expert when it came to drawing, but it was still a hobby of mine. So the two of us set ourselves on the floor, drawing and coloring, making several pictures between us. I actually managed to pull off a decent depiction of the four filly Crusaders together, with the logo above their heads. Sweetie Belle thought it was incredible, and asked if she could keep it for the fridge, which I said yes to. She then showed me her best piece: a crayon drawing of me and the four of them. It was pretty good, and even had our basic colors down right. I was towering like a giant over them, with my stick figure arms and big feet, but it still looked nice. This time, Sweetie Belle actually gave it to me as a gift, a gift I graciously accepted. From there, we played a couple board games, like that Battleship game that came up at the slumber party. Sweetie Belle beat me twice out of three games. I guess pegasi weren’t the only ones who were skilled at this thing. I had just barely glanced over the rules about cloud and sky sections, and the proper terms for losing game pieces, so maybe that contributed to my failure. I wondered if Rainbow Dash could give me any tips on how to play it right, because it must have had to do with predictable piece placement. The hours were snailing by, but there was still no sign of the package. It was getting closer and closer to 5, and the two of us were now whiling away the time with a game of Go Fish. “Got any 3s?” I asked. “Go fish!” said Sweetie Belle. “Is that package ever gonna come?” I asked, drawing a card from the deck. “I hope so. Mom and Dad are giving me 3 bits for waiting for it!” “3 bits, plus whatever I’m making tonight?” I asked, incredulously. “Sweetie Belle, I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but we’re gonna be at 500 bits in no time!” “I know, right? I’m so excited! Any 8s?” “Dang it, how are you beating me?” I asked, handing over my 8. “Just lucky, I guess,” said Sweetie Belle, grinning cutely. After the game, I packed up the cards. “Does Rarity do stuff like this with you?” I asked. “Sometimes,” said Sweetie Belle. “She moved out when I was really young, and I only really got to see her when I visited the boutique. She used to always be really busy, though.” “Well, I can understand that, I suppose. Running an independent fashion store can’t be easy.” “Yeah, but she used to play with me a lot before she moved out. Mom and Dad would take us to the park, and we’d play tag or hide and seek, or just watch the butterflies.” “Rarity? Playing tag or hide and seek? You sure about that?” “She wasn’t as fussy when she was younger. I kinda miss those days.” “Well, you two still get along now, though, right?” “Yeah. It’s gotten a lot better recently. One time, I was out catching frogs after it rained. Rarity came outside, and I thought she was gonna get really mad at me, because I was so muddy and wet, but instead, she just said, ‘I think you forgot something’, and she gave me a raincoat she designed.” “Really? That was nice of her.” “Yep! She only got mad when I tripped after catching a really big frog, and it hit her in the face. I thought it was funny,” she added, with a shrug. “Probably for you, but not for her, I imagine,” I said. “But that was nothing compared to…” From there, the two of us just chatted the day away, until it wore on into evening. *** I couldn’t remember feeling as tense as I did right now, and it wasn’t from waiting for the package. 5 o’clock had come and gone, and there was still no sign of it. There must have been a delay or a mix-up with the order. Nothing was impossible, I suppose. No, my agitation was for something much worse: Sweetie Belle was cooking, and didn’t want me in the kitchen so she could surprise me. All the time, I was waiting for some kind of disaster to happen: something to break, the smoke alarm to go off, anything that told me that letting Sweetie Belle cook by herself was a horrible idea. But none of that came, and that was what worried me. The smell of something baked was wafting from the kitchen, but I couldn’t place what it was. Wait, that meant Sweetie Belle was using the oven! What kind of babysitter was I, letting her use the oven all by herself?! I had to stop her before she hurt herself! I was just rushing to the kitchen door when it swung open. There stood Sweetie Belle, besmirched with flour but looking happy. “All done!” she said, in a singsong voice. Bracing myself, I stepped inside, expecting to see some blackened, burned, indefinable blob at the table. Instead, to my surprise, there stood a normal-looking pie, steaming placidly on the table. “Sweetie Belle!” I gasped. “You made that yourself?” “Uh-huh! Now come on, get a slice while it’s still warm!” My interest getting the upper hand, I cut some big slices of the pie and set one for each of us. I took a forkful and bit right into it, though I had to consider what I was chewing on. It was both chewy and crunchy, with an almost suffocatingly sweet mixture of flavors, like fruit and candy. I swallowed the mouthful I had and asked, “What kind of pie is this?” “My own special recipe!” said Sweetie Belle, proudly. “Sweetie Belle’s Sweet-tastic Smorgasbord Pie! I used apples, bananas, cherries, raspberries, jelly beans, chocolate chips, lemon drops, peanut butter, aaaand,” she added, for emphasis, before plopping a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, “it’s a la mode!” I wasn’t sure what to say. It was weird, sure, but it wasn’t horrible. The worst she could have done, besides burning it, was probably making a pie of cherries and carrots, or strawberries and mushrooms. Compared to those possibilities, this was delicious. Overly sugary, yes, but delicious. My hesitation seemed to deliver the wrong message to Sweetie Belle, as her face fell. “You don’t like it?” she asked, softly. “What? Oh, no-no-no, Sweetie, I do like it! It’s just so...unexpected. I’m amazed you did this all by yourself. I was worried that something might happen if I wasn’t supervising.” “Well, I wanted it to be a surprise,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s something I wanted to try for a while, but couldn’t find the right time.” “Well, I think you did an excellent job, Sweetie, and I appreciate the thought. Who knows? You might get a cutie mark in fancy cooking.” “That’s what Mom said, but I haven’t seen one yet. Maybe I need to try harder. I’ve gotta make bigger, better stuff!” “Er, let’s take it a step at a time, Sweetie Belle,” I said, “and just enjoy this, er, Sweet-tastic Smorgasbord.” Sweetie Belle beamed, and we dug in. I’d probably have to see Minuette about this if this pie was as cavity-inducing as it was sweet. *** “This is getting ridiculous. Where is that package?” It was 7:30, and there was still no sign of that delivery. I had taken Sweetie Belle with me into the living room, after we cleaned up the kitchen and put away what was left of the pie (we both ended up having two slices), and were feeling full and lethargic. Sweetie Belle sat beside me, half-asleep, hooves resting on her little tummy. It probably wasn’t a good idea for her to fall asleep now, since it’d probably have to be her who signed for the package, as she was the mare of the house today. It was so quiet and still that the clock’s ticking seemed louder than it should be. All of a sudden, there came a rapid knocking at the door, and the two of us jolted awake. We sped for the door together, and I swung it open, revealing a tired-looking Derpy, her mailbag slung at her side and a postal cap on her head. “Dave? What are you doing here?” she asked, blinking rapidly, as if she were blaming her eyes for seeing me in a place that wasn’t my own home. “I’m babysitting Sweetie Belle,” I said. “Oh. Hi, Sweetie Belle!” she added, sweetly. “Hi, Miss Hooves!” said Sweetie Belle. “I’m really sorry about this,” said Derpy, to me. “The courier who was supposed to bring the package got sick with the feather flu, and we didn’t know about it until after the time frame for the package had expired, so they first had to find him, then find a replacement to get the package and bring it over, so here I am.” “Ooh, that’s pretty rough,” I said, sympathetically. “Tell me about it. Anyway, I just need one of you to sign for it.” She brought out a clipboard and pen, both held in one of her wings. “Sweetie Belle?” I asked. “Okey-doke!” Sweetie Belle took the pen in her teeth and scribbled her name on the signature line, rather neatly, I had to say. “Thank you!” said Derpy. She handed over a medium-sized box. It was kind of heavy as I took it from her, making me wonder what it was. “I’d better be off. Sparkler’s watching the kids, so they should be fine until I get back.” “How’s flying lessons for Scootaloo going, by the way?” “Great!” said Derpy. “She’s not quite airborne, yet, but she’s close. Rainbow Dash is really pleased with her results so far. She even said she’s a fast learner, just like when she was her age.” That made me smile. Sweetie Belle looked excited at the thought of her best friend being able to fly soon. “Well, good night, you two.” “Good night, Derpy.” “Good night, Miss Hooves!” Derpy flew off, and I lugged the package over to the living room’s coffee table. “What is this thing, anyway?” “Must be Mom’s new blender. She and Dad are always active, so she got interested in making smoothies for their workout days.” “Really? Sounds like something else you could learn to make with her help.” “Hey, yeah! Maybe that’s what’s making me miss a cooking cutie mark: smoothie-making!” “Could be,” I said, though I inwardly wondered if it was wise to trust Sweetie Belle near a blender, supervised or not. *** Finally having the package delivered did little to assuage the lethargy that being full of pie brought. I did what I could to pass the time by telling jokes or funny stories (appropriate for her age, of course), which did entertain her and make her laugh, but as it was drawing close to 8:30, she was having more and more trouble keeping her eyes open. “Guess it’s about that time, huh?” I asked. “Come here, sleepy-bones.” I picked her up lightly and carried her upstairs, but she made no resistance to it. I made sure she brushed her teeth, then tucked her into her bed. She looked very comfy between those two pillows. “Cozy?” I asked. “Mm-hmm,” she said, sleepily. After a pause, she said, “Dave?” “Mm?” “Thanks for watching me. I had lots of fun today.” “You’re welcome, Sweetie Belle.” She raised her forelegs up, and I perceived what she was about. Smiling gently, I bent down so she could give me a hug. “Good night, Sweetie Belle,” I said. “Good night…” She released her hold and settled back onto her pillows. Her eyes slowly closed, and she was soon snoring gently. Softly, I exited the room and made my way downstairs. No sooner had I done so than the front door opened, and Magnum and Pearl stepped inside. “Shh!” I urged them, before they could say anything, then pointed upstairs. “She’s asleep already?” whispered Magnum. “Good job, Dave. How did it go?” “Really well,” I whispered. “She was well-behaved the whole time.” “Wonderful,” whispered Pearl. “We knew you were the right man for the job.” “We’re kinda in the middle of an hour here,” said Magnum, “but we’ll compromise and say 33 bits. How does that sound?” “If that’s all right with you.” “Of course. You’ve earned it, son.” Magnum handed over another bag of bits, this one jingling profusely. I had to take care not to move it too much, or I’d wake Sweetie Belle. “Thanks a lot,” I said. “You’re welcome, dear,” said Pearl. “and thank you for watching her. Did our package arrive?’ “Yeah, a little late, but it was no big deal. Just excuse us if there’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen. We kinda went all-out in making dinner tonight. Sweetie Belle wanted to surprise me.” “Aww, the sweet little darling,” said Pearl. “Well, it’s no trouble. We’re just thankful you could keep an eye on her. Good night.” “Good night.” I handed Magnum back the spare key and made my way out as quietly as I could. Today had certainly been profitable and eventful. In all honesty, I would have watched over Sweetie Belle even without pay. It was a bit of a hassle to make sure she didn’t make a mess, but she was a sweet kid, just like all of the Crusaders, and friends like that were always worth the trouble. Saturday, November 17: 383 bits.