//------------------------------// // I Am the Eggmare (Afternoon Three) // Story: Alarm Clock // by Meta Four //------------------------------// Ponyville’s tourism board was not above using the truth creatively to promote their town. They could not, in good conscience, say that Ponyville was safer than the average Equestrian city. They could, however, point to the large percentage of Ponyville’s citizens who never bothered to lock their doors—and simply neglect to clarify that the dangers which did befall Ponyville were rarely the sort that a locked door could deter. Carrot Top was apparently one of the few Ponyville residents who did lock their front door, but Ditzy Doo wasn’t about to let it deter her, either. Ditzy reached into her saddlebag, past a folded parchment, and grabbed the canvas pouch containing her lockpicking tools. She slipped the tension wrench’s hoofhold over her left hoof, and the rake pick’s hoofhold over her right hoof. Finally, she picked up the diamond pick in her mouth. She looked up, and the door was already open. Written Script was standing in the doorway. “Ummm ...” he said. “Hi?” Ditzy answered. The diamond pick fell out of her mouth and clattered on the stone patio until Ditzy brought her hoof down on it. “You know that Carrot and Dinky left for Canterlot earlier today, right?” “Yes! I mean, no. I mean …” Ditzy closed her eyes and sighed before continuing, “I can’t think of any way to say this without sounding weird, so I’m just gonna say it. I need to borrow your fridge.” “Yeah,” Written Script answered, “that is kinda weird. Well, I was just about to grill some carrots, and you’re welcome to join—” “No, not the food,” Ditzy interrupted. She jerked her head back, indicating the contents of the cart behind her. “I brought this red cooler so you can keep your food. I just need the refrigerator itself.” Written Script sighed. “I’m probably going to regret asking, but why do you need our fridge?” “Ummm … That would be telling.” “Uuuurgh.” The stallion closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with a hoof, muttering to himself, “Way to go, Carrot. Figures I’d have to deal with the fallout from one of your weird pranks while you’re out of town.” He lowered his hoof and opened his eyes. “Alright, Ditzy, you said ‘borrow,’ so I’m holding you to it. Carrot gets back in three days, and the fridge needs to be here when she returns. Understood?” “Righto!” Ditzy figured that this was a creative truth rather than a lie. Though she had every intention of returning the refrigerator, there was an alarmingly real possibility that this might prove impossible. But, if that came to pass, a missing fridge simply would not matter. Afternoon Three: I Am the Eggmare “What’s that sigh for?” Written Script asked. He telekinetically moved a bowl of pasta salad, a bottle of milk, and a bundle of carrots from the open fridge to the cooler. “It’s …” Ditzy scanned the fridge’s interior once more, confirming that none of its contents were lit by pink light. “... complicated.” She grabbed a bag of apples and transferred it to the cooler. Figures, she thought, the one time I want a Krasnicker tube, it’s not here. Wouldn’t want to make this easy for me, huh, universe?  She transferred a package of hay bacon into the cooler. Well, on the bright side, now I know these foods won’t work, at least. “Welcome to Carousel Boutique, where every—” “Rarity, I need to borrow your mirror cutter!” One of Rarity's forelegs was raised, her head was held high, her eyebrows were skewed, and her mouth was hanging open. Every strand of her mane was perfectly in place, and her alabaster coat glowed in the late-afternoon light. Rarity boggled at Ditzy’s interruption, but she did it elegantly.  She quickly regained her voice. “Well, I would gladly loan you my glass cutting supplies if I had any in my possession. I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place, Derpy.” “You don’t have a mirror cutter? Why not?” “‘Why not?’ Why would I have one in the first place? Really ...” “Isn’t mirror cutting only, like, a hop and a skip removed from jewel cutting?” “A hop and a skip over the Ghastly Gorge, perhaps.” “Oh.” Rarity placed a hoof on the pegasus’s shoulder. “I wish I could do more to help you, Derpy, but if the proprietor of Mirrors & Sledgehammers wasn’t able to provide you with glass cutters, I don’t know what to tell you.” “Mirrors & Sledgehammers … ?” “Well, I assumed you inquired there before you came to me. Didn’t you?” Ditzy dropped her face into her waiting hoof. “Are you alright, Derpy?” “I’m not as smart as I thought I was,” Ditzy said into her hoof, “but otherwise I’m fine.” Mirrors & Sledgehammers was deserted, aside from Ditzy and the owner. “You want me to cut this mirror in half?” Red Rain scratched his head. “Isn’t it the same one you bought yesterday?” “It sure looks like it, doesn’t it?” “Why do you want two halves of a mirror?” Ditzy raised a hoof to point at her face. “If your eyes looked like this, would you want to see your whole face looking back at you?” “Uuuuummmm …” Red Rain’s eyes darted to every side before settling on the mirror. He grabbed it with his mouth, set it on his back, and turned to the shop’s backroom. “I’ll have this ready for you in ten minutes!” Ditzy glided over the rooftops as quickly as she dared. She didn’t have much time, but she did have an unrestrained refrigerator in the cart she was hauling—the faster she flew, the more she risked dropping it and ruining her entire plan. Just as she drew close enough to town square to make out the holes in Town Hall’s porch, a voice called out from far below. “Ditzy Doo! We need to talk!” It was Twilight Sparkle. Uh-oh, Ditzy thought. Maybe I can just keep going and pretend I didn’t hear her. “I know you can hear me, Ditzy!” Twilight shouted. Ditzy glanced down. From this distance, she could look directly at the unicorn’s purple glow for a few seconds without hurting her eyes. “What?” Ditzy shouted. “No I’m not dizzy, but thanks for asking!” The light below grew slightly brighter. From the center, Twilight’s voice boomed loud enough to rattle Ditzy’s chest: “Alright! Can you hear me now?!” “Ow.” “Okay.” Twilight’s voice had lowered to a slightly less deafening level. “Ditzy, you agreed we’d talk later. And it’s later!” “I’m a little busy!” Ditzy waved a hoof at the cart behind her. “And I can’t afford any distractions! I really don’t want to drop this fridge!” “Are you threatening me?” “Huh? What are you—” Ditzy paused as realization struck her, followed quickly by her forehoof. “No! No, that’s not what I meant at all! I just mean I can’t replace this fridge if anything … happens …” As Ditzy trailed off, the purple light flared, then disappeared entirely. Twilight had teleported away. That could have gone better, Ditzy thought. But it also could have gone a lot worse. Thank Celestia for small favors. Ditzy flew through the hole in the ground from that morning, and she settled on Town Hall’s basement floor. The angling rays of the sun did not reach this far down. Ditzy was glad she had attached a firefly lamp to her cart. She unhitched herself, lifted up, and alighted in the cart. She opened the fridge door, then withdrew half of the mirror from her saddlebag and deposited it on the fridge’s bottom shelf. She then picked up the saddlebag and slipped it onto her back, tightening its strap around her barrel. Ditzy opened the blue cooler and surveyed the bounty within—the entire contents of her own fridge, and numerous food items she had bought at the market just to cover all her bases. She compared it with her mental list of the contents of Carrot Top’s fridge. She grabbed a slice of apple pie and placed it on the fridge’s top shelf. A minute passed, and nothing happened. Back into the cooler the apple pie went. One at a time is inefficient, Ditzy thought. She transferred a bag of caesar salad, an onion, a quart of ice cream, and a pitcher of orange juice into the fridge. A minute later, she transferred them back to the cooler. She sighed, and grabbed a block of cheese, half a grapefruit, and a green bean casserole. No, Ditzy thought, why isn’t it working? I tried every food that wasn't in Carrot Top’s fridge! Twice! At least one of them should have worked ... Ditzy’s gaze darted back and forth, between the open fridge and the open cooler. Maybe I just remembered wrong! Yeah, I’ll try the foods that were in Carrot Top’s fridge. Surely one of them will work! One of them has to! “No no no no no!” Ditzy flared her wings and bucked the air behind her. One of these should have worked! Ditzy thought. I’ve got every food I can possibly think of. What went wrong? She slumped to the ground and sighed. Well, I tried. Sometimes you do your best, and that’s just not good enough. Maybe … One of Ditzy’s eyes turned up to look at the rays of light angling through the hole in the porch. Maybe we can evacuate Ponyville. If everypony leaves now, we’ll probably be clear of the blight radius by the time the Eyeless King breaches our plane. And then the Princess or the Elements of Harmony can deal with— She snorted. “Oh yeah, that’ll definitely work. Because clearly Ponyville will evacuate on my say-so. Everypony listens to space cadet Derpy Hooves.” She rose and took to the air, flying through the hole, into the open air. Well, at the very least I can try to convince Written Script to leave. I can never face Carrot Top or Dinky again if he doesn’t get out of this okay. Haha, I wonder which of his needlepoints he’ll insist on taking with him. The space whale? The shark with sunglasses? That koan about the chicken and the … … the egg. Ditzy froze in midair. Eggs! She darted back into the basement and hovered above the open cooler, examining its contents one last time. No eggs in here! I finished off my eggs for breakfast, and the egg seller wasn’t at the market today! No eggs in Carrot Top’s fridge either! Eggs must be the answer! Why, oh why did I eat my last two eggs this morning? Curse my extravagant breakfast! Where am I going to get any more eggs at this hour? Then, she remembered. Ditzy fidgeted her hooves. She tightened the saddlebag straps about her barrel. She glanced to one side, at the front door of her apartment complex. She glanced to the other, and saw the street was mostly deserted. She loosened her saddlebag straps. She confirmed that her lantern was lit and securely fastened to her saddlebags. She glanced up, and found the skies clear of ponies, and darker than it was two minutes ago. The path before Ditzy, shrouded by shadow even in midday, would only grow darker as twilight gave way to night. “Derpy?” Bon Bon’s voice cut through Ditzy’s thoughts of shadowy, forested paths. “You look terrible. Are you feeling alright?” “Hehe, yeah, I’ve seen better days,” Ditzy answered. She tightened the straps on her saddlebag as she turned to the candy pony. “Bon Bon, do you ever find yourself with … something you really gotta do, but you’re really nervous about actually doing it?” Bon Bon raised a hoof to her chin. “Hmmm. Nope. When I find some kinda unpleasant job on my plate, I just do it and get it over with. It’s not like putting it off will make it easier, right?” “Yeah, I guess so.” Ditzy loosened her saddlebag straps. Bon Bon began trotting away, but stopped when Ditzy called after her. “Hey, Bon Bon! Before you go, I need to, um, apologize.” Bon Bon raised an eyebrow, and Ditzy continued, “I … kinda … mentioned your real name to Dr. Hooves. And I accidentally told him you’re a spy. So if he starts getting in your mane about that, I’m sorry.” Bon Bon was scowling. “Told him I’m a spy? Accidentally? How did you …” She lifted a hoof to her face. “Wow. Derpy, you are so weird.” “Oh, my goodness!” Ditzy smiled and threw her forehooves in the air. “Bon Bon, you’re a genius! I am weird! That explains everything! Why didn’t I notice sooner? You’re the best casual acquaintance a pony could ask for!” Bon Bon shook her head. “You know what, Derpy? One of these days, you’re gonna step in something really deep. And no amount of … whatever it is you do … will get you out of it.” She trotted away, calling over her shoulder as she went, “Mark my words!” “Duly noted!” Ditzy smiled as she tightened her saddlebag straps. With one last glance to confirm nopony was watching, she trotted forward on the fia-trail, into the sídhe. A hundred feet in, Ditzy wondered if the plant life had become thicker since her last visit, or if it was just her imagination. Something brushed her flank. “Yaaaaaaaugh!” she screamed, and bucked in the offender’s general direction. Her hooves struck the leaves of a low-hanging branch. With a quiet laugh, she continued forward. Five hundred feet in, Ditzy glanced up and could not see the sky. She froze. Above, the branches and leaves were a barrier as solid as any ceiling. On every side, the darkness was broken only by the browns and grays of tree trunks, by the silver-green of the underbrush, or by the pale blue of a moss that glowed without illuminating. Below, the packed dirt of the trail was lit by her lamp for about fifteen feet in every direction around her—beyond that lay inky blackness. With her head low and her ears folded back, Ditzy resumed trotting. On all sides, the shadows cast by her lantern shifted as she moved. Her gaze darted to and fro; she scanned for movement and hoped to find none. One thousand feet in, a shrill melody sounded from the canopy. Ditzy froze, her heart pounding almost as loud as the strings and woodwinds above. She lifted her head and sang, her words barely in tune as she belted at the top of her lungs: “Theeeeeeeere will be no hunting season this yeeeeeeaaaar! All the hunters—” A lilting voice interrupted, and Ditzy bolted. Over the pounding of her hooves against the soil, she could still make out the words from above: “An capaillín, an capaillín, go you now and lost your way? An capaillín, an capaillín, with me come and we can play!” The music and the rustling of branches followed Ditzy as she fled. The path narrowed, and low branches scratched her sides as she galloped. She wanted to fly but there was no space, no visibility. She wanted to slip into another dimension, but the sídhe would not permit it. She pumped her wings for extra speed, but it made no difference. This was the fastest Ditzy had ever galloped in her life, but her musical pursuers kept pace all the same. “You serve me tea, you serve me tea, make we both a tasty stew. Stobach faelach, stobach faelach, best to eat of all is you!” Ditzy rounded a curve in the path, and saw a moonlit clearing ahead. In that clearing was a chicken coop. Yes! she thought. If I can just reach— Too late, she noticed the root jutting out of the ground. Her forehoof caught, the world spun about her, and she found herself sprawled in the dirt. She looked up and found the path to the clearing blocked by a silhouette, the height of an average pony but thinner in body and limb. Two more fia sídhe blocked the path behind her. Three sets of antlers glowed—the two behind lifted a bouzouki and a flute, and the one in front raised a horsehead fiddle. They played, and the fiddler sang: “I eat your eyes, I eat your eyes, upon a pike I put your head! I eat your heart, I eat your heart, make cloak of skin when you are dead!” The three fia laughed as they slung the instruments across their withers and stepped towards the pegasus. Ditzy laid in the dirt, trembling, as they approached. No, not like this! she thought. Ponyville needs me! Carrot Top and Dinky Doo and Written Script need me! It can’t end like this! The fia circled Ditzy as they drew closer, until she could notice details by lantern light. Featureless white masks hid their faces. Drab green cloaks were wrapped about their shoulders and barrels. Black brands forming knot patterns interrupted the fur of their exposed limbs and haunches. The one with the horsehead fiddle bore four-point antlers, marking him as the oldest of the trio. “Say-you,” he asked his companions, “pony-serves how, cook-wise? A stew?” “Nay, a roast!” the bouzouki player answered. “Fire below, bay and rosemary above!” “Or bake-wise! A quiche!” said the flautist. “Fie!” the fiddler said. “Foul, thy quiche-serves.” “Verily!” Bouzouki said, laughing. Fiddle paused in front of Ditzy, tilting his head as he looked into her eye. “Cad é this?” He pointed a hoof at her face. “Look-you! It-be wonked, eye-wise! Haha!” Bouzouki and Flute laughed along with him. Sure, make fun of my eyes, Ditzy thought. Real classy, bucks. You’re acting like a bunch of … Of course! That’s exactly what you are! Scrunching her eyes shut, she forced her limbs to stop shaking. The bucks’ laughter died as Ditzy rose to her hooves. Facing the fiddle player, she said, “We weep for your kind.” “We-treats not, speak-wise, with food!” he answered. He leaned towards Ditzy in a manner that was probably supposed to be menacing. “Quiet-thee!” “Thy face is like unto thy rump, and thou wilt shut both if thou possesseth a mite of sense.” Fiddle looked to his companions and opened his mouth, but Ditzy interrupted him. “We weep for your kind, and for the former might of the sídhe.” She turned towards Flute. “Where is the pride of the Court of Dannan, who won this land from the Fur Bolg?” She turned to Bouzouki, who retreated a step. “Where is the blood of Cú Chulainn, who bested the three-headed hound and set it to guard the gates of Tech Duinn?” She turned back to Fiddle. “Where are the fia sídhe?” Fiddle tilted his head again before answering. “Thou-be wonked, brain-wise and eye-wise! Fia sídhe we-be!” “Nay! The fia sídhe were warriors, stout of limb and strong of heart! But here, we see naught but a trio of brats, threatening an unarmed pony. Where is the honor in that?” Fiddle’s antlers glowed, and from a fold of his cloak he pulled a bladed staff. Bouzouki and Flute brandished similar weapons. “Honor enough, it-be, to shut thy mouth,” Fiddle said. “Oh dear,” Ditzy said, raising an eyebrow. “We had best be cautious. It would appear we are treating with some veritable badflanks.” Fiddle tilted his head again, and Ditzy charged. It’s sky-clearing time, she thought, and here’s a storm cloud just asking for a good bucking. About a ponylength away from Fiddle, she leaped over his swinging blade. She pulled her hind legs, she flapped to spin mid-air, and she bucked. Her right hoof struck his chin with a meaty smack. Ditzy spun the rest of the way to face Fiddle again and remained hovering. His face, now unmasked, was already beginning to swell. His eyes were wide and his jaw hung limply. His legs buckled, first in the rear, then in the front, and he collapsed to the ground. Ditzy snatched his white, wooden mask off the ground and turned to face Bouzouki and Flute. The two bucks raised their weapons, but stepped back as Ditzy continued speaking. “’Tis shameful enough to make sport of waylaying travelers, but we see you are furthermore too craven to show your faces! We would spit upon you, but ’twould be a waste of good phlegm!” She threw Fiddle’s mask to the ground, then dropped herself atop it. The wood splintered under her forehooves. “Now …” Ditzy reached into her saddlebag and withdrew the folded parchment. “Perhaps you nubby-antlered sons-of-wolves can finally accomplish something with your misbegotten lives by answering one question for us.” She unfolded the parchment and brandished Abhean’s letter, making certain that the family crest in the upper corner was visible to the two bucks. “We have business with the Lord and Lady Bec-Felmas. Are they still among the living, or must we pay our respects to the ruins of that once-proud house?” Flute cringed and bolted into the darkness. Bouzouki glanced from Ditzy to the spot his companion had been standing, and back again. He followed Flute. Ditzy returned the letter to her saddlebag as she approached Fiddle. He had risen to his hooves, and he moaned slightly as he massaged his jaw with a forehoof. “Fiddle player, thou wert the leader of this merry band, correct?” Ditzy asked. He nodded. “Thy companions could benefit from a lesson or two in loyalty.” The fia chuckled before answering. “Of loyalty, know-you much? If very, wherefore you-be lacking, friend-wise?” Ditzy furrowed her eyebrows, then smirked. “Verily, that is the wisest word thou hast spoken yet, fiddle player.” “A name, I-have! Éthuran, son of Mac Cuill!” “Well met, Éthuran. We are Ditzy, daughter of Loopy. And now we are curious: does Mac Cuill approve of his son’s hunting trips?” “Bah. The old stag, unconcerned with mine activities he-be. Gathering his army, occupy him it-does.” “Army? So there is to be war between thy kind and the Fur Bolg after all?” “Ha! Conquest, not defense, it-be our armies’ purpose. The Fur Bolg’s gripes, soon-they-be nowt. Coming swiftly, change-is, and big-wise like nowt since the reign of Discord. Hear-you the rustling leaves, feel-you the quaking æther: they-speaks concerning the upheaval.” He smirked at Ditzy. “Oh, pity, hear and feel you-cannot! Dulled you, sense-wise, the sun, it-has-done. Ha ha—” “Ha ha ha!” As soon as Ditzy joined in, Étheran stopped laughing and scowled. She continued, “Oh, thou art so cute when thou doth endeavor to lecture us about senses. Please, doth continue. We wish to hear about this upheaval.” The buck lowered his head, angling his antlers at Ditzy. He snorted, then said, “The Morrígan, soon-she-comes. Verily, almost here, she-is. Black the sky-will-be with her feathers, and blighted the land-will-be with her shadow. And the ponies of Equestria, dead or gone forever soon-they-be. When satisfied, the Morrígan-be, rulers of the land we-will-be.” “And then thy senses can be dulled from living under the sun, eh?” “In this hour, you-jest?” “We jest because we know of the one you call the Morrígan. The same one who the sheep of the east called Czernobaa, who the llamas of the south called Xollotll, and who the Saddle Arabians called Angra Maneyu. Of old, the earth ponies called it the Void Treader, the pegasi called it the Eyeless King, and the unicorns called it Tha ... Th’cluh … a stupid name with too few vowels!” “So you-know what she-holds, power-wise.” “And we know how to waylay it so it sets neither claw nor jointed appendage nor feather on Equestrian soil.” “Waylay? The Morrígan? Many mad words you-did-say tonight, but the maddest by far those-be.” “And thou hast no idea who we are. Tell us, art thou familiar with the title, ‘mare of the blessed eyes’? Nay, speakest not. The look in thine eyes is answer enough. Verily, there are some in King Nuada’s court who think us a soothsayer. And we would speak sooth for thou, if thou wilt hear it.” Éthuran shifted on his hooves, but he met Ditzy’s gaze. She continued, “Thy father and the other generals of the fia sídhe will gather their armies. They will then marvel as the Morrígan fails to arrive and ponykind remains in Equestria. Thou wilt remember this conversation—the madpony with wonked eyes who said she would stop the Morrígan—and thou wilt realize that she was true to her word. Thou wilt share the tale with thy father.” Ditzy prodded Éthuran’s chest and continued. “Then, thou and the rest of the fia will learn a very important lesson: Leave our little ponies alone.” Ditzy extinguished her lantern as she entered the moonlit clearing. She moved as silently as possible. Fluttershy’s back yard was not quiet; the nocturnal members of her menagerie made certain of that. But the noise could not be relied on to completely mask Ditzy’s approach, either. Her target, the chicken coop, was silent, its residents having apparently settled down for the evening. Ditzy poked her head into the doorway, and her eyes went wide. Not a single chicken was in sight. She scanned the nest boxes, the floor, and every corner. Then she looked up and saw them. All of the hens roosted on a shelf directly above the door. This actually makes things easier, Ditzy thought. I was afraid I’d have to steal an egg right from underneath a sleeping hen. She crept to the left wall and inspected the nest boxes. The first two were empty. The third had something white which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be some feathers. The fourth had a white rock which Ditzy mistook for an egg until she picked it up in her mouth. Stupid rock, what the hay are you doing here?! she thought as she spat it back into the nest. The rock bounced out and landed on the floor. Ditzy closed her eyes and cringed at the clunk of stone on wood, then opened one eye to look at the roost. A single hen raised her head and blinked at Ditzy. “Shhhhhhhhhhh,” Ditzy whispered. “I’m not really here ... This is but a dream … Goooooo back to sleeeeeeeeep …” The hen stood up. Ditzy sang in a slightly louder whisper: “Hush now! Quiet now! It’s time to lay your sleepy head! Hush now! Quiet now! It’s …” The hen turned to face the wall, then settled back down. Ditzy sighed and returned to the nests. The next five were empty. Nest number eleven had two white, round objects. The first was another rock, which Ditzy placed back in the nest carefully. The second was a real egg. Haha! Victory! Ditzy thought. She wrapped the egg with Abhean’s letter, then placed the bundle in her saddlebag. She crept towards the door. I’ve got everything I need now! I can do this, no prob— She stepped on the first white rock and fell, smashing her head through the floor. After the crunch of breaking wood, there was a brief silence, then an explosion of furious squawks from over a dozen rudely awakened hens. “Uuuugh. Stop the henhouse, I wanna get— Ow!” Ditzy pulled her head out of the new hole in the floor and found herself in a tornado of white feathers, beaks, and claws. “Come on, knock it off! That stings!” Another voice cut through the cacophony—a voice that was the subject of fearful whispers across Ponyville, a voice Ditzy thought she would never hear with her own ears. “Who is messing with my chickens?!” Ditzy had doubted that Fluttershy was capable of such rage. She doubted no more. Ditzy dashed out the door and made straight for the Everfree Forest. She knew if she could just reach the treeline, she could slip into another dimension and evade the shy one’s wrath. She didn’t make it. Something landed on Ditzy’s back, and she suddenly found herself pinned to the ground, with her right wing twisted behind her back. “Ow! Ow!” she said. “Uncle! Uncle!” Fluttershy approached from the side. “I swear to Celestia, if you’ve hurt one feather on their heads, I will make you wish oh, it’s you, Ditzy.” The sudden switch from enraged to demure made Ditzy wish to look at Fluttershy’s face, but she couldn’t move her head. All she could see was grass and a pair of yellow hooves. “Angel Bunny!” Fluttershy scolded. “You let her go this instant, mister! You know Ditzy Doo! She may be a little odd, but she would never hurt the chickens.” The pressure disappeared from Ditzy’s wing and back, and a white rabbit hopped away from her, towards Fluttershy’s side. He gave Ditzy a look which could be classified a war crime in twelve different nations. Death glare aside, Ditzy had to admit the little monster was still pretty cute. “Are you alright, Ditzy? I’m so sorry about Angel. You know how he can be sometimes.” Ditzy stretched her right wing. “Eh, all that’s hurt is my pride.” Fluttershy scanned the surroundings before turning back to Ditzy. “I don’t mean to be a nuisance, Ditzy, but did you happen see what was was bothering the chickens so much?” “Aaaaaaaaaaugh!” Ditzy covered her face with her forelegs. “Please, mercy! Please don’t use your evil eye on me, or let the devil-bunny break my wings!” “Um, what? Why would—” “I scared the chickens! I didn’t mean to do it and I swear I didn’t hurt any of them! I just needed an egg! Just one egg!” “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhhhh.” Fluttershy wrapped her forelegs around Ditzy’s shoulders and squeezed. The embrace was gentle, but firm. “You’re okay, I’m okay, and the chickens are okay. No one’s going to get hurt.” Ditzy smiled and wrapped her own forelegs around Fluttershy. Glancing over Fluttershy’s shoulder, she met Angel’s gaze. He had amplified his glare—now it could be classified a war crime in twenty-three nations. Fluttershy ended the hug and stepped back. “This isn’t going to become a regular thing, is it?” Ditzy shook her head, and Fluttershy continued, “Good. And now that this misunderstanding is cleared up, let’s step inside and get that egg for you.” “Oh, that’s okay.” Ditzy rose to her hooves. “I already found one.” “Really? That shouldn’t … um … If you found one, I must have missed it when I collected the eggs at sunset. The ones in my icebox are probably much fresher.” “It doesn’t matter! I’m sure this one will be fine.” “Doesn’t matter?” Fluttershy cocked her eyebrows. “Ditzy, um, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you, um, need this egg for?” “Ummm … That would be telling.” “And why did you sneak into my back yard to steal an egg from the henhouse, rather than just knocking on my door and asking for one?” “That would be ... I’m wondering that, myself, actually.” “You’re acting stranger than usual, Ditzy. Um, no offense. What’s going on?” “That would be running a punchline into the ground.” Fluttershy’s expression grew even more confused. She turned to Angel, who stamped the ground and gestured wildly. Ditzy was in no mood to find out what these gestures meant. “Um, bye,” she said and darted away.