Pony technology. Somehow they had bowling alleys but not internal combustion engines. I shook my head. Where was Henry Ford when you needed him?
The Cutie Mark Crusaders had dragged me along on their little outing. I think their friends and relatives were glad to see someone supervising them, but even I knew I was a terrible role model.
A pony named Kingpin ran the place. I drifted over to the concession stand where he was working. Somehow, the other bowlers managed to do their thing, but I couldn’t seem to manage it with my hooves.
I ordered a lemonade. Kingpin pushed a bowl of mixed nuts forward. “Free with a drink.”
“I’m allergic to nuts.”
“Good thing you’re straight.”
“Shut up. You play with balls all day.”
“That was a cheap shot.”
“Sorry, I’m just getting tired of that joke. You’re probably the only pony in town with an occupation that lets me come up with a good retort.”
He looked over my shoulder. “Did you come here with those three fillies?”
“Maybe.”
“They suck at bowling.”
I nodded. “Yup.” I turned around. The three of them looked like they were just about ready to leave.
Outside, the fillies parted ways. “Sweetie Belle, a word?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“Since when did you take to cavorting around in the shadows like a ninja?”
“I’m not like a ninja,” she said seriously. “I am one, and if you tell anypony, I’ll slit your throat.”
“Well, I’ve kept my mouth shut so far. How long have you known about the vampire hunting?”
“Not very. That was the first time I followed you and Rarity. How did you two even get started doing something like that?”
“Long story.” I guessed that she didn’t know about her sister’s condition. “How did you get started being a ninja?”
“Long story.”
I nodded. “Well then. I’ve got some stuff to do.”
“Remember, don’t tell anyone!” she sang, skipping away.
I went back to the library to fetch the helicopter. I had to see a man about a horse. Well, actually a pony about a horse. Well, actually a pony about a robot pony that looked like another pony. Or something like that.
Hidden deep inside the Twi-minator was a small metal tag that identified it as a product of Hoofnmouth Industries, 16 Forelock Way, Las Pegasus. I had no idea who or what they might be, but I wanted to get to the bottom of the mystery.
I thought it odd that the tag looked old and battered while the rest of the robot was nice and new. It had been floating in the stomach area. I decided to take it with me.
“Hey Spike,” I said. “Want to go to Las Pegasus?”
“The city of sin?”
“Maybe.”
“The den of deceit?”
“Perhaps.”
“The host of harems?”
“I have no idea.”
He smiled. “Sure, let’s go.”
A long CHOPA ride later, and we were there. I figured that it would be the pony equivalent of Las Vegas, and based on Spike’s descriptions, it seemed to be. He wandered off to do something, probably not too legal. I picked up a map and went looking for a particular address.
There was no record of Hoofnmouth Industries. Further, there was no number 16 on Forelock Way. The street only went to 14.
There was, however, construction going on next door. I stared at the building that would become number 16.
I spotted a small metal plate affixed to a post in front of the construction. It was an exact copy of the tag I had found, but much newer. I wondered if Hoofnmouth Industries had something to do with things, or if the robot had simply eaten the tag and then traveled back in time. At this point, nothing made sense.
Spike was not easy to find. Too many gems eaten and far too many bits spent had changed his attitude considerably. I managed to drag him back to the CHOPA.
“Where were you all afternoon?” asked Twilight.
“What happens in Las Las Pegasus stays in Las Pegasus,” said Spike.
“Does that mean something happened?”
“Um,” said Spike, clearly guilty of something.
I felt charitable, so I helped him out by changing the subject. “Twilight, have you ever heard of Hoofnmouth Industries?”
“No, not that I can think of.”
I was still operating under the assumption that she was simply a replacement robot. I made a mental note to get a big magnet and check her.
A couple members of the Apple family came in. Apple Bloom was spinning a hoop, balancing plates and tap dancing all at the same time. Applejack looked worried. The filly had gotten her cutie mark, no, three cutie marks.
“I’ve never seen anything like this!” said Twilight as Applejack explained her sister’s situation.
A fourth cutie mark suddenly appeared.
Applebloom gasped. “Sacrebleu! Plus de marques de cutie! Qu'est-ce c'est? Je parle Français!”
“Être calme,” I replied. “Écouter le nerd. Elle va les aider à.” I looked at Twilight. “You’d better do something. I told her you would. Also, you’re a nerd.”
“You speak French?”
I sighed. “I once dated a girl from eastern Canada, okay? Can we talk about something else?”
It turned out that Apple Bloom had screwed up a potion while visiting Zecora. By the time the zebra got to town to help out, cutie marks were spreading all over the filly’s body. She was pumping iron and sweeping chimneys, taming lions and playing chess. I thought it was hilarious to watch.
Zecora had to be a buzzkill and made her eat a flower to get cured or something. A large group of ponies had come to watch Apple Bloom get cutiefied. Apparently, they thought it was contaigous. I wandered away, somewhat surprised to see ponies wearing hazard suits with the radioactive symbol thingy on them. I shook my head. Somehow the ponies had radiation protection but no telephones. Where was Alexander Graham Bell when you needed him?
I walked back to the library thinking about stuff. Cutie mark overdoses, ninjas, my Québécois ex, freaking robots from the future… You know, just stuff.
I happened across Kingpin. “Hey there,” he said. “Why so glum? You look like you could use a game of bowling.”
“I can’t figure out how to hold the balls.”
“Good thing you’re straight.”
I glared at him. He laughed. “Just kidding. I’ve got to get back now. The Hoofnmouth Company just sent us some new stock.”
I tackled him. “Tell me what you know!”
“They make bowling balls.” he said.
“No robots?”
“No. “ He thought for a moment. “Now, Hoofnmouth Industries makes robots. Nice company. They’re right here in Ponyville, as a matter of fact.”
I let him up. “Sorry. Sometimes I get a little nuts.”
“Good thing you—” His sentence got cut off in the middle. Funny how a bloody nose can do that to a guy.
Author Note:
Want something a little more serious? Try my story, As the Sun Rises, So Do We. It's got ponies in outer space.