Poniocracy

by sunnypack


5 - Sometimes You Just Need A Toothbrush For That

Chapter 5: Sometimes You Just Need A Toothbrush For That

'Unicorns are real. They’re just fat and grey and we call them rhinos' – Anonymous

“How is it that ‘fat chance’ and ‘slim chance’ mean the same thing?” David wondered aloud as he crossed his legs. Almost everyone in the room studiously ignored him. He considered switching it up with his legs but decided against it for the sake of staff sanity. Twilight determined that clothing would be priority one for the newly adjusting human. David would have preferred a cool glass of beer, but he supposed clothes would be a welcome addition to his woefully empty inventory. He glanced down at his feet and wriggled his toes.

Twilight gave him a disgusted look. “Can you stop doing that? It’s weird.”

David shrugged and stopped wriggling his toes. He settled for whistling It’s a Small World instead. What David didn’t know was that this song was voted number one within the inter-galactic council as the song most likely to trigger a psychotic breakdown. One member commented (sic) ‘You’re just jealous that the voices only talk to me.’ It was concluded after an extensive investigation involving a galactic-wide scandal, that listening to the soundtrack, and not premeditated murder, had indeed been the cause of the councillor’s death.

Twilight gritted her teeth and pulled back her ears flat against her head. “Stop whistling! That’s the most annoying tune I’ve ever heard! What is it anyway?”

David paused for a moment, thinking back. “I think it’s a—hmm, I don’t know. I might have brain damage to be honest—not feeling too hot right now.”

Twilight took a deep, calming breath. If what David claimed was true, then he probably wasn’t of sound mind at the moment.

“So…” David began, swinging his legs childishly as he sat naked on the table (there wasn’t any furniture that could accommodate his size). “What’s going to happen now?”

Twilight gave a look as if to warn David that anything flippant would be terminated with extreme prejudice. She cleared her throat, levitating a scroll and quill from her packed saddlebag.

“Putting aside the fact I didn’t see you put that on,” David started, pointing at Twilight’s saddlebags. “How are you making those things float?”

Twilight gave a sidelong glance at David. “It’s magic.”

As if that explained everything.

David buried his face in his hand. “Okay, no need to get snarky with me, I just wanted to know how you’re doing that trick. It’s cool, I must admit, but it’s not worth fighting over.”

Twilight blew out an impatient breath. “How do you think I’m doing it?”

David stared at the parchment floating in front of his face for a moment. He waved his hands around the perimeter of the parchment and studied the gentle glow emanating from Twilight’s horn, the parchment, and the quill.

“Special effects,” he answered confidently.

Twilight tilted her head, confused. “Special...effects?”

David nodded sagely. “Special effects. You know, the stuff they use on television, except here in real life. You’re tricking my eyes somehow—it’s an illusion. There’s no way you could float those things, so it must be a trick.”

“It’s certainly not a trick!” Twilight spluttered. David reached out and patted Twilight on the head in a somewhat patronising manner.

“No need to fake it. I know magic’s not real.”

Twilight looked at the parchment and quill and flapped them both in front of his face frantically. “It’s right in front of you! Magic! See?”

David just shrugged. “Magic is scientifically impossible. That kind of business was around when people thought the Earth was flat and that the Sun revolves around the Earth. Complete garbage.”

“The sun does revolve around the planet!” Twilight shot back. She planted a hoof on David’s knee as she leant in, furious. “What would you know? You were cooped up in that Box for centuries—millennia even!”

David had a condescending smile plastered over his mug. “You have quite the imagination. How old are you anyway?”

Twilight rapped her hoof against David’s head. “And you have a damaged brain!”

One must not underestimate the hardness of pony hooves. For a species that adapted themselves to knocking around hard objects with their heads and hooves, pony skulls were a lot more resilient to your average head knock. For a human, especially one fresh out of cryo-stasis with a brain quite possibly already damaged, concussion was almost inevitable.

Twilight could only gape as David went cross-eyed and collapsed on the ground. He landed with his buttocks sticking embarrassingly up at a sharp angle for all to see.

At first, Twilight thought he was joking. “David? Come on, that’s enough.” Playfulness aside, she began to worry. “Get up now,” she whispered, nudging him with her hoof. David didn’t even groan in response. Twilight quickly bent down and pressed an ear to his chest. She couldn't hear him breathing.

Sweat beaded on Twilight’s brow as she considered all the consequences. She quickly ran through a logical list of consequences:

1. The Princess assigned the human to her.
2. The Princess gave her the responsibility of caring for the human.
3. She hit the human directly.
4. The human is now dead.
5. To the moon. (At the very least.)

She glanced at the castle servants who had all frozen mid-way through stitching some decent new clothing for David.

In stressful situations, ponies tend to overreact. It’s actually against pony law for any building to be constructed with exits that open inward. In the tragic Manehatten fire of ’89, several hundred ponies were trapped in one such poorly designed building. The crowd was so hysterical that they tightly pressed against the front entrance in their rush to escape. This made opening the inward facing doors impossible. Thankfully, most of them got out after the fire crew smashed the hinges.

Panicking was just what ponies did. It was something they did extremely well.

A servant screamed. “She’s going to eliminate the witnesses! Run!” In a flurry, the ponies darted around aimlessly, like a brood of headless chickens. Among the flying pieces of incomplete undergarments and needles, which were pretty dangerous things to have flying around, Twilight finally unfroze herself and tried to think of a plan that didn’t involve her being sent straight to the moon. She had a brilliant thought.

“Everypony stop! Relax!” Twilight yelled, waving at the panicking servants.

One by one, the servants slowed down. A couple of them tripped over their associates and lay sprawled on the floor. One stallion commented wryly, “Oh, well that’s no fun.” He was immediately smacked by Twilight for his insolence.

Twilight took a deep breath and addressed the servants. “Okay, is everypony calm now?” There were several nods around the room. “All right, now to think.”

“You there!” she pointed to a particularly clueless-looking servant. “What’s your name?”

“Busybody, ma’am.”

Twilight nodded. “Do you realise the gravity of the situation we’re in?”

He nodded. “I’m in a room with a dead body.”

Twilight gave an accepting grunt. “Exactly, and what does that make you?”

“A witness?” Busybody answered uncertainly, as ripples of doubt spread among the staff. They sensed this conversation would be the tipping point in a cascade of events. As the universe would have it, they were right.

Twilight shook her head frantically, “No, it makes you an emergency responder. You have to help me!”

Busybody just looked confused. “With what?”

“With CPR!”

“The Canterlot Prison Rehabilitation program?”

“What? No! It means Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation!”

Busybody gave her a blank look. Twilight stamped a hoof in frustration.

"Mouth to mouth!"

"Oh."

"You take the chest—"

"Thank Celestia!"

"—And I'll take the mouth. After five minutes, we switch. Got that?"

"Oh, Tartarus!"

"I'll take that as a yes."

Twilight stared at the gathered servants looking on with interest.

"This is like a live medical drama," one of them commented to another.

"A what?" the other replied.

"Oh right, I forgot that television hasn't been invented yet."

"Oh well, that's alright then… wait a minute!"

But then the curious stallion was gone.

"Will one of you go get help already?!" Twilight yelled at the mare who had spoken. The panicked servant dashed out of the room.

"Finally," Twilight seethed. She turned back to Busybody, busy stomping away on David's chest.

Busybody was almost at the count. "Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty!" Twilight dove in. Muzzle pressed firmly against David's lips, she pushed out a breath.

Please, oh please, let help arrive soon!

Busybody gasped and said something. Twilight barely heard him—she was fixated on the pulsing artery exposed on David's neck. David's heart was beating… which meant…

Twilight quickly backpedalled.

"My ribs feel like a jackhammer ripped through them… and why do I taste grape?"

"Pony feathers," Twilight swore.

-----

The cross-species doctor listened with his stethoscope for a few moments and nodded.

“Normal heart rate?” he asked curiously.

“Seventy to eighty beats per minute,” David answered calmly.

“Well, apart from a mild concussion, some bruised ribs, and the laceration on his knee from when he hit the ground, as far as I can tell, he’s healthy. I don’t have much of a reference to judge this on, but it all seems to be within normal parameters. You really should have given him a check up as soon as he ‘woke up’, Miss Sparkle.”

Twilight glanced sheepishly at the doctor. “Sorry, Dr. Stable.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to the patient.”

Twilight turned to David. “Sorry, David.”

“I don’t remember you knocking me out.”

Twilight paused. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“I’d probably appreciate the gravity of this talk more if I had some pants on.”

“Oh right, sorry. These might not fit properly, but this was the best we could do. Your physiology is a little… disconcerting.”

David frowned at the undergarments, but as he slipped them on he was surprised at how comfortable they were. Tight fitting, kind of like spandex, but at least they did the job. He caught Twilight staring at his waist.

“Something interesting?” David commented coolly. Twilight blushed and looked away.

“Sorry! Sorry! It’s just strange that it’s so pronounced.”

“Well, don’t get used to it,” David scoffed, he crossed his arms uncomfortably. “So, what were we talking about before?”

“We were talking about what we were going to do after we got you some clothes.” Twilight brought out the checklist again.

“Woah! How are you doing that trick?” He waved his arms around the parchment. “I can’t even see the strings. That’s some pretty fancy special effects!”

Twilight silently face-hoofed.