//------------------------------//
// Mike: Sharp Dressed Man 
// Story: Fastest Fall in Equestria 
// by Parchment_Scroll 
//------------------------------//

Mike: Quick recap.  I had just learned what flying can be like when you're not crashing into arboreal libraries.  I had also just offered to go flying with a pegasus filly that, as it happens, pretty much worships the clouds Rainbow Dash trots on. (Hey, I'm getting the hang of talking like a pony!)  The reaction wasn't what I expected, though.


Fastest Fall in Equestria
Sharp Dressed Man


After Scootaloo had mounted her scooter and rolled forlornly down the hillside, I turned to Fluttershy to express my confusion.  "Um...  Fluttershy?"

"Yes?"

"What did I do wrong just now?"  I pointed at the retreating filly with a hoof.  "Did I violate some sort of pony taboo?"

Fluttershy smiled reassuringly.  "Oh no," she said.  "It's just...  well, Scootaloo... can't fly."

I blinked.  "Like, at all?"

She shook her head.  "And she very much wants to grow up to be just like y-- I mean just like Rainbow Dash."

I frowned.  "So what's the problem?  We can still go flying together, right?"

Fluttershy frowned.  "Um, I'm very sorry, Mike," she said, "but Scootaloo really can't fly.  She can use her wings to make her scooter go faster, and she can jump higher with them, but she can't stay off the ground.  She's probably got another year or two of growing to do before she can reliably get off the ground...  It's normal for a pegasus her age, but she's very sensitive about it."

I sighed.  "Nothing a little creative thinking can't resolve," I said.  "So she can't fly on her own.  Well, as I think we just demonstrated, flying is pretty easy for me as long as I don't start trying to figure it out and just let Rainbow Dash's muscle memory do the work."

Fluttershy nodded.

"So what I need is...  well, what do grown-up pegasus ponies use to take their children out with them?"

Fluttershy frowned.  "Um... a perambulator?"

I grinned.  "I think Scootaloo's a bit old for a stroller, Fluttershy."

She grinned bashfully back at me.  "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I dunno," I said.  "Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way.  When in doubt, do research!"


* * * * *


"Mike!"

I grunted, not really noticing that I was being addressed.  Or poked repeatedly in the ribs by a small, blunt-clawed, purple finger.  (Really, Spike's claws aren't quite as sharp as they look, thank goodness.)  "Come on, Mike, snap out of it!"

Grunting again, I shoved aside the useless copy of Foal and Child Rearing Across Equestria, which fell to the floor with a thud.  "Eh," I said in my best (horrible) attempt at a Brooklyn accent, "what's up, doc?"

Spike frowned.  "Um, no, it's Spike, remember?  Not Doc."

I rolled my eyes.  "I cannot wait to get back home," I said, "where, among many other virtues too numerous to mention, people get my jokes."

"That was a joke?"

"Well, a cultural reference to something humorous."  I looked at him.  "Wow, kid, I don't envy you, growing up without Bugs Bunny."

"Who?"  Spike shook his head rapidly, as though clearing his head.  "Nevermind that," he continued.  "I got a letter from Twilight!"

"Oh?"  I perked up.  Maybe things were about to take a turn for the better.  "Let me see."

Spike handed me the scroll, then nobly refrained from laughing at my attempts to unroll it for a whole eight seconds before giving in.

"Here," he said, snagging the scroll just when I was about to get it open despite Rainbow Dash's lack of digits.  Seriously, folks, how do earth and pegasus ponies do anything?  I protested that I had it, but he ignored me.  I'm not sure if he just needs to feel useful, or if he was actively trying to make me look like an idiot.  Frankly, I suspect both.  It's like I was in Misery, and Spike was playing Cathy Bates' character.

"Dear Mike," he began reading.

"I can read, you know," I protested, "even if I have problems with these hooves."

"So can Twilight," Spike argued, "and she lets me read her mail to her.  Now hush, I'm reading."

I blinked.  Did he just tell me to shut up so he could read my mail?  My personal, addressed to me, mail?

Dear Mike,

I've found a way to figure out what world you come from, and maybe even establish communications with it.  I'll need more information from you, and I'll need to do some scientific studies of the area you appeared in.  Princess Celestia and I will be back shortly after sunset with the necessary equipment.

Please let my friends know we're coming, and that Princess Celestia says, quote, please don't make a fuss, end quote.

Your new friend,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S.:  Please let Rarity know first - she'll never forgive us if we don't give her time to dress up for the occasion.
P.P.S.:  Princess Celestia says that the not making a fuss thing goes double for Rarity.  I don't think it'll help, but go ahead and tell her that.

Spike grinned.  "Well, you heard the mare," he said.  "Let's get going!"

I nodded, then bent down to pick up the book and froze.  I am ashamed to say that I nearly swore - Spike's just a baby dragon, though, so I managed to keep it in.  What I did say was "Holy Shhhhh... ooot.  There it is!"

Spike glanced at the book.  "You were looking for buffalo?"

I grinned.  "Well, I didn't know I was looking for buffalo.  I was looking for that."

Spike read over my shoulder.  "What in the hay is a papoose?"

My grin widened.  "The beginnings," I said, "of something awesome.  Now all I need is somebo-- er, somepony who can work with me to turn this into a flight suit."

Spike got a sly look on his face.  "Like a fashion designer?"

I narrowed my eyes.  "You," I said, "are scheming something."

"No way!  It's just, well, Twilight said we should let her friends know she and the Princess are coming, and she said to tell Rarity first, and Rarity just happens to be the premiere up-and-coming fashion designer in Ponyville!"

"You seem awfully eager to go see her."

Spike shrugged.  "Nah," he said.  "I'm cool."

I nodded.  "Uh-huh.  And the T-shirt?"

He tugged at the T-shirt he had apparently put on when I wasn't looking, which featured a white unicorn pony's head inside a large red heart.  "What, this old thing?"

"Whatever," I said.  "Let's go meet this fashion diva pony friend of yours."


* * * * *


Meeting Rarity is an event.  Seriously, not only is she every bit the drama queen, she has this way of dragging you into her world that is just unreal.  The introduction had gone more smoothly than I'd expected, at first.  Then things got...  intense.

No, not that kind of intense, you deviants.  See, apparently, Pinkie Pie had been running all over town passing out invitations to a party, and, well...  The invitations were something to behold, but apparently, they were nothing on her presentation.  There had apparently been a huge song-and-dance routine, "complete with top hat, tails, and spats, if you can believe it, darling!" in which she had done her utmost to explain the situation.

I don't know where she got her information - she certainly hadn't stuck around while we pieced it together back at the library - but it was pretty darn accurate.  I was grateful I wouldn't have to explain the situation again, but...

"This does not bode well," I said.

"Oh come on, darling, Pinkie Pie throws the absolute best parties, they're simply to die for."

"Yeah," I said, "that's what I'm worried about."  I looked at Spike.  "Any idea how many ponies she's told about the mind-switch thing?"

Spike shrugged.  "Probably all of Ponyville by now," he said.

"Great," I muttered.  "Keep an eye out for torches and pitchforks, would you?"

Rarity smiled and batted her eyelashes in what I'm sure would have been a disarming manner had I been (a) still male, (2) normally a pony, and (III) not in fear of my life.  "Aren't you overreacting just a bit, dear?"

"Hey," I said defensively.  "Twilight Sparkle said Ponyville is prone to panic," (great, now I was doing it).  "Fear leads to anger.  Anger leads to hate.  And hate leads to the Dark Side."

Rarity blinked, looking around for a way away from the crazy pony.  "The dark side of what, dear?"

I frowned.  "And another cultural reference bombs," I muttered.  "It means when people -- er, ponies -- get frightened, they can do things they normally wouldn't.  Mob mentality.  Ponies are herd animals, after all.  Get a whole town riled up, convinced that alien invaders are going to steal their precious bodily fluids...  I'm a goner."

"Precious... bodily..."  Spike frowned, trying to piece together what I was saying.

"Nevermind," I said.  "Another cultural reference.  The actual quote is 'sap and impurify our precious bodily fluids' and it's an example of paranoia in action, from....  I don't suppose you've got movies here?"

"What, like training films?"  Spike recovered gracefully.

"Sort of, yeah.  Except for entertainment, not education."

Spike frowned.  "What's so entertaining about sitting still and watching a movie?"

And we have disconnect.  "Well, see, the idea is you take a story, a work of fiction, and you get people -- er, ponies -- to act out the story on camera."

"Why not just read?"

"Because..."  I was stymied.  "I dunno.  Movies based on books usually aren't as good anyway.  Except when they are.  Hey, a few are even better."

Rarity raised a hoof.  "Aren't we getting a bit off-topic, dears?"

"Always," I said.  "It's a curse.  Anyway, yeah.  So...  I was supposed to tell you something..."

"The letter."

"Right!  Thanks, Spike."

Spike held the letter out to Rarity, who floated it out of his grip with her magic and unrolled it.  I stifled a sharp pang of jealousy.  I couldn't have switched bodies with a unicorn, no, I had to get a pegasus.  Don't get me wrong, flying is awesome, but magic would have made so many things easier.  She scanned it briefly, then let out the most incredible sound.  I shall attempt to render it in text form.

"WA-HA-HAAAAA!"

Yeah, mere letters do not do that sound justice, but I'm sure you bronies out there know the exact sound I'm talking about.

"Oh dear, oh my, I wonder if...  no, too pale.  Too frilly.  Too simple."  Dresses began flying past, stopping briefly to arrange themselves between Rarity and the nearest mirror as she, let's face it, panicked.

"Rarity," I said.

"Not now, dear, I simply must get ready!"

"Rarity!"

"Hmm... perhaps the plum sun dress?"

"Rarity!"

"Oh, fine, what is it?"

"The Princess said not to make a fuss," Spike put in vainly.

"Oh, but that simply isn't done, dears.  A visit from Royalty is a visit from Royalty, no matter the circumstances."

"But--!"

"NO MATTER THE CIRCUMSTANCES."  She turned her attention back to the dresses, fussing with one after another.  This one was too glitzy.  That one too over-the-top.  (They were all over the top as far as I was concerned.)  "What are you trying to do, Rarity, overshadow the Princess?  No no no, that simply is too gauche."

"We are never talking sense into her, are we, Spike?"

"Not likely," he agreed.  "Oh well, let's go get the others."

"Dressed like that?!"  Rarity was suddenly between us and the door to her boutique.  I came to the horrifying realization that I was not getting out of there without a makeover.


* * * * *


If I said in the end it wasn't too terrible, do I lose man points?  Because once I convinced Rarity that, temporary biology notwithstanding, I was male, things started looking up.  In the end, I suppose Spike and I did look rather dapper in our matching tuxedos.  Even if the darn thing made me stand out even more than being a cyan pony with a rainbow mane did.

In any case, we got Rarity's promise to meet up at Twilight's library by sunset, and headed off to pass the word to the next ponies on our list: Applejack and Fluttershy.  Since I'd already met Fluttershy, Spike suggested we go meet Applejack first, to which I had no objections.

Sweet Apple Acres lies outside of Ponyville proper, as a farm should.  It looked not so much like a farm as like, well, what a child's idea of a farm might be.  It had all of the appropriate buildings - a big house, a barn, a couple of silos.  It had a great deal of land dedicated to apple orchards, organized by varieties of apple.  It featured a lot more pink and hearts than most farms I've seen.

Also, for some inexplicable reason, one of the orchards was populated entirely by barren trees.  No apples, no flowers, not a single leaf.  Just trunks and branches, as though winter had struck in just one field.  "Zap Apples," explained Spike, which enlightened me not at all, thank you very much.  "They're not in season just now."

"They look dead," I said.

"That's what Zap Apple trees look like out o' season, pardner," a third voice piped up.  I looked over at the speaker.  Applejack is something else, y'all.  I've since seen the cartoon, and while there isn't anything wrong with it, there are subtle differences between the various ponies that aren't apparent in it.  Applejack is a bit stockier in person than she looks.  I can understand an artistic choice not to draw her that way - stocky doesn't always equate to graceful, after all, and...

Okay, you just take off those shipping goggles.  It is not going to happen.  Nothing of the sort is ever going to happen, all right?  I just happen to respect her, and the fact that she is a physically active mare makes her, well, rather fit.  I admire her, I do not want to...  engage in biological processes with a pony.  She is a pony.  I am not.  (Temporary biology notwithstanding.)

"Well, howdy, pardner," she said.  "Ah'm Applejack.  An' Ah understand y'all ain't Rainbow Dash 't'all..."

I grinned.  "I see Pinkie Pie's been here."

"Eeeyup."  Let me clarify something here.  Applejack doesn't have a Southern drawl.  She has a Texas Hill Country twang, and it is a much more welcoming accent than your average Southern accent.  Much.

"I don't know if that girl's making my life easier or harder, I tell you what," I said.

"Speakin o' makin' things rough," Applejack said, and began to lose that welcoming friendliness I was already coming to rely on.  "Ah reckon y'all might know why one o' mah little sister's best friends is in their treehouse bawlin' her little eyes out?"

I blinked.  "I might know," I said.  "It all depends on who you're talking about."

Spike glared at me.  "You haven't even been here one day and you're making fillies cry?  What kind of monster are you?"

I backed up defensively.  "It's not my fault!  I didn't know she couldn't fly, all right?"

Applejack narrowed her eyes.  "All right, that's it.  Now I know y'all had somethin' ta do with it.  What'd ya do, throw 'er off a cliff?"

I shook my head.  "No, no.  She knocked us off the cliff.  It wasn't until after I brought her back up that I stuck my hoof in my mouth."  I frowned, hanging my head.  "I thought it'd be neat, after that, if we could, y'know, go flying together.  She seemed to enjoy it so much, I just...  I didn't know it'd upset her, all right?"

"Aww, that's all right, Sugarcube," Applejack said.  "Ah figured it maht be somethin' like that.  Well, come on, let's go talk ta the little filly."

I cringed.  I do not deal well with upset children.