The Daily Show presents: Equestrian Interviews

by Daily Show Ponies


Episode 14 [Queen Chrysalis]: A bad day to be Jon Stewart.

Some people wake up and can immediately know if they will have a good or a bad day. For Jon, this day was in the latter category. A day where everything that could have gone wrong did, and for him it started the literal moment he woke up.

As a parent of two very young children, Jon's mornings usually started off with him waking up to the sound of something breaking or a fight brought about by some petty disagreement. This meant that he'd get up when they did, which was usually very early and indeed on this day he did just that. It wasn't because of any direct cause from Nathan and Maggie, but from his own body deciding that it would be best for him to wake him up almost two hours ahead of schedule.

Opening his eyes caused Jon to tilt his body to the side in order to avoid the ray of light that was beaming through a space in the window and directly onto his face. It was only when he did this that he realized he was alone in his comfy king-sized mattress. Tracey was nowhere to be found.

For Jon this wasn't too unheard of, since she usually got up to get things started before anyone else; himself especially. But nevertheless, he was never opposed to the idea waking up to the sight of his lovely wife's face, or indeed the warmth of her body against his.

That being said, Jon felt absolutely terrible. His body ached all over and his throat felt dry and uncomfortable like someone had been sliding a piece of sandpaper in and out of his esophagus while he slept. In addition, he felt weak, like his bones might break, and he was starting to get a headache. All this wasn't too uncommon for someone of his age, but even so, Jon already knew what all this meant; he was catching a cold.

Since he was up earlier than expected, Jon tried his hardest to go back to sleep. He still felt tired but his body was determined to stay awake. He tried closing his eyes, hiding under the covers, and placing a pillow over his head, but no degree of darkness could convince his body to hibernate.

The thought of laying around being unproductive may have guilted a lesser man to get up and do something worthwhile with their free time, but for a man as evolved as Jon the fact that he wasn't doing anything at this hour meant he was winning. That is, until his bladder told him that if he didn't leave for the nearest bathroom anytime soon he would regret it.

With a long, drawn out sigh, Jon flipped the covers from atop his body and in one motion leapt from his bed and stood straight up. In fact he did this in such a full motion that he got a head rush so powerful he almost fell back down on his pillowy mound.

He took a couple of steps forward and his joints creaked and popped appropriately in rhythm with a loose floorboard or two in his room. Most mornings started off like this to the point where it felt routine to him.

His head still felt as if it was filled with helium as he exited his room and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He figured since he was already up he might as well take a shower; if nothing else it would help him fully wake up. As Jon continued shambling down the hallway he kept one hand against the wall for balance since his ailment had left him somewhat lopsided, which didn't help any when found himself now plummeting to the ground.

If Jon wasn't fully awake before, he was now. Even in his delirious state he could tell he was just a couple feet away from the bathroom, but before he actually had the chance to enter he had tripped over something and landed flat on his stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. There was only one person in the area that could have checked to see if he was alright, but unfortunately that same person was the thing he tripped over.

"HEY!" It screamed. "Get off of me you blundering oaf!" Instead of getting up, Jon painfully rolled over to his back to see what he had tripped over. To his surprise, it was of course, Trixie, who had been waiting just outside the bathroom door.

"Ugh! Watch where you're going next time!" she demanded. Part of Jon's leg was still on her so she used her magic to fling it away. "I know you’re old and aren't as agile as you used to be but that's no excuse for such...clumsy behavior."

As much as Jon loved Trixie, he was not in the mood for this at moment.

"I'm fine by the way," Jon said, picking himself up. "Thanks for asking." As if to distance himself from her, he leaned against the wall opposite of the mare, the bathroom door placed in between them.

"Ahem!" Trixie said, making a motion to her flank. "The line starts here!" Jon didn't move, he instead looked to the side and cocked an ear to see if he could hear who was occupying the room.

"Who's in there?" Jon asked.

"Nathan," Trixie answered bluntly. "Tracey told him to wash his hands before he could eat breakfast." This time Jon looked ahead, off to where the railings were. He didn't hear the sound of cooking, nor could be smell anything; though, that may have been because of his congested nose.

"What are we having?" he asked.

"Waffles, ham, and jam toast for us," she answered, "and an apple with some granola for you...and maybe some cereal if Tracey says it's okay."

"Sounds yummy," Jon said in a placid tone. Throughout their little small talk, Trixie never made eye contact with Jon, as she was staring at the bathroom door with Zen-like focus. She then slowly moved her head to get a good look at him. He was rubbing his eyes and making noises like he was auditioning to voice a zombie in a movie.

"You look terrible, by the way," Trixie said. She didn't particularly care to see how he'd react, so she looked back at the door.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," Jon said in a tone of voice that was halfway between tired and annoyed. "I'd say the same about you but—"

"But the Great and Powerful Trixie looks great?" she said, flipping her mane to the side. "Why yes…Trixie already knows this."

"...I was going to see, but that would be mean." Jon continued. As much as he'd hate to admit it, she did have a point. By pony standards (a concept that Jon still didn't fully grasp) Trixie was still very youthful and vivacious. Even now, with the exception of slightly messy hair, she looked great for someone having just woken up not too long ago.

"Anyway, come back when you’re my age and see if you're still looking that good every morning," he added.

"Trust me I will!" Trixie argued. "A few decades from now when I'm an elder pony I’ll still be doing a better job of running this place than you. Then I'll have proved once and for all who the better one is." Jon seemed surprised about her confidence in that she'd still be here long after his departure.

"You really think you'll still be here by that time?" Jon asked. His somewhat poorly-worded question caused Trixie to give him a dirty look. "Not that I'm saying I wouldn't want you here for that long...believe you me when I say you're a part of this family I mean it, but...I mean don't you ever get homesick? Don't you ever miss your own world or want to go back to every now and again?"

Her dirty look didn't go away, instead she swung her head to the side and gave an audible snort as if she was a bull ready to charge.

"Hmph! Go back to that ungrateful world? I think not!" she snapped. "Why waste my time in a place that obviously doesn't want me...getting rejected everywhere I go by ponies who don't understand me...so no I don't miss my world...besides without me hanging around this place would fall apart."

Jon felt somewhat guilty for unintentionally bringing up her past. He remembered the interview he had with her which ultimately resulted in her being trapped in the human world. In it, he recalled how hard her life was growing up and how difficult it was trying to make it on her own. Ultimately, it worked out since she now had permanent residents in the Stewart house.

But even still, Jon knew her past wasn’t her favorite conversation topic, so to help make this less tense, Jon got down on one knee to match her eye level.

"Well, Trixie...always remember that...no matter what, you are a valued member of this family," Jon said. "And no matter what you do or where you go, you'll always have a home and a family here."

Jon's kind words felt as warm and inviting to Trixie as a blanket straight out of the dryer. Had it been any other person they would have respectively given the time to express their gratitude, but this was Trixie and her ego wouldn't allow it.

"Please, Stewart, do not act like I want to be here. My world may not be perfect but still..." she said in a smug tone. "If it weren't for those kids and the fact that I still haven't recovered all my magic, I probably would have left this dump a long time ago."

"Oh don't say that, Trixie," Jon said with a smile and forced sad tone. "You keep saying such things and you'll hurt my feelings!"

"Is that so?" she said. "Well, well, well! Had I known you were such a sensitive crybaby perhaps I would've gone easy on you...seriously though, such weakness if unbecoming of a man of your position."

Trixie was an expert at belittling people, but even her crass insults couldn't penetrate Jon's leather-thick skin; decades of dealing with hecklers at comedy clubs made sure of that. With her insult yielding no results, she trotted over to meet him face to face in one last ditch effort to get a rise out of him.

"Also," she said, jabbing her hoof into his stomach. "You’re fat." But again nothing. Jon just responded by petting Trixie on the head with a smile like what he'd give to his children whenever they presented him a crayon drawing. Clearly annoyed, Trixie walked back over to her original spot and sat down as if she was tired.

"You really don't fight back much, do you?" she asked.

"No. I'm more of a turn the other cheek kind of guy," Jon answered. "Also I'm Jewish."

"I still don't know what that means," she said.

"It means we take things in stride," he answered.

A moment of silence followed with Jon stretching his muscles, then addressing his reluctant friend.

"You know, not to sound like a therapist, cause lord knows that's what my mother wanted me to be...but anyway, you can insult me all you want but you can't fool me. Your little defense mechanism thing you got going on here...tissue thin." Jon said with a chuckle.

"Oh what do you know!" Trixie barked.

"I know that you may act like a total bi—...ahem, like a total bully..." Jon said, remembering that his son was still within earshot and lowered his voice appropriately. "But deep down you and I know that you love it here. You love being part of this family...you love having a place to call home...and even though you'd never admit it I know you—"

"Silence!" Trixie ordered with a blush. "I demand you stop saying such foolish things."

"Awwww c’mon now, don't be that way," Jon teased. "We're friends. You can tell me anything."

"Do not flatter yourself, Stewart!" She scoffed. "There are very few creatures that I, the Great and Powerful Trixie regard in life as a 'friend' and you are not one of them."

"Yeah right, which is why you always hang around me and plan on staying here with no plans of ever leaving," Jon quipped.

"I already told you I don't have a choice," she said. "If you're senile mind could keep up you'd know I'm stuck here...remember."

"Yeah about that...I call bullshit," Jon said. "Don't think I don't know what you do at night when you're you’re upstairs 'practicing your magic'...I've seen you in your room, using massive amounts of magic till you almost pass out…at first I thought you were just trying and failing to get back home. You can pretend this is a desert island but you're the one stranding yourself here. Why, I'll bet you've had numerous opportunities to get back home, but you don’t use them, and you use your lack of energy as an excuse to stick around."

Trixie didn't say anything because of the implications. If she agreed with Jon she proved his point and thus he wins, but if she disagreed with him then she'd have to explain herself. So instead she just listened.

"You could leave but you don't...you stay here and act as if you don't want to and you know what...that's fine. I don't mind...as long as you're happy; that's all I care about," he said. "Look, Trixie...I'm not asking you to open up to me or express how you feel or any of that Dr. Phill stuff...what I want is for you to know that everyone here loves and appreciates you. And we will do everything we can to make you feel like one of us. And I know I'm not your favorite person in the world, but trust me when I say I'll look after and protect as if you were my child."

Trixie was left not knowing what to say once again. A part of her wanted to remain steadfast in her thin veneer of indifference, while another part of her just wanted to show some level of gratitude. She wanted to give him a smile, she wanted to say "thank you", she wanted to embrace him like the father she never knew, but before she could even make up her mind, a loud noise awkwardly seized the moment.

The sound of the toilet flushing from the other side of the door immediately broke up any assemblance of a touching moment between the two like a cellphone going off in the middle of a wedding ceremony. Soon after the sound of the faucet being turned on lead both Trixie and Jon to believe that Nathan, who they’d forgot was even present, was finished with his business.

On the off chance that he heard anything they were talking about, Jon braced himself for the questions and comments that his son would undoubtedly have upon his exit.

The door swung open and to his surprise his son burst forward out and immediately ran down the hallway to the stairs without even a second glance.

"Breakfast time!" he shrieked, running downstairs before anyone could say anything to him and leaving Jon to wonder if he even noticed the line of people just outside the bathroom. Before he could call out to him, Trixie ran to the top of the stairs to shout out orders.

"Nathan Thomas Stewart, you stop that! How many times have I told you no running in the house!?" she yelled out. "Especially down the stairs. You could have hurt yourself!"

The sound of a door slamming caused Trixie to turn around and see that Jon was now nowhere to be seen. While she had been distracted with scolding the already long gone Nathan, Jon stealthy took a few steps to the side whereupon he quickly entered the now vacant bathroom. For added security he shut the door behind him and locked it so no one could get in.

"HEY!" Trixie complained as she ran up to the door. "I was next in line!" She tried opening the door but when that didn't work, she began to bang on it with her hoof.

"Heh, heh, heh," Jon said from the other side. "...sucker."

"The Great and Powerful Trixie commands you to open this door at once!" she continued.

"Sorry, can't hear ya’," Jon said.

Eventually, the banging did stop, which to Jon, meant she had given up. From the other side, things went suspiciously quiet, but Jon paid it no mind and went about his business.

First thing was first though, so he promptly positioned himself in front of the toilet and began to undo the front of his pants. After he was done he pulled the curtains to the shower aside and began to adjust the hot and cold faucets. But before he could even undress, a strange feeling took over his body. At first, everything went blurry like he was underwater, then some strange and unfamiliar force surrounded him. He then felt like someone had thrown him across the room only to yank him back like a dog on a leash.

Eventually his vision did return and he soon found himself back in the hallway.

"What the hell!" Jon exclaimed.

"Ha, ha, ha." Trixie said from inside the bathroom. "Sucker."

Soon after he made the correct assumption that she must have used some kind of spell to switch places.

"HEY!" Jon yelled. "Whatever happened to 'not enough magic' or whatever?"

"Well it would seem I had some left over," she said smugly. "Now then...wait your turn!"

Defeated, Jon slumped down next to the door and waited for his turn. Much like how the day had started, things were still not going his way, and it wasn't going to get any better from here.