//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: M.F.D. // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Soaking in the tub was wonderful. The bathroom, now immaculate, was clean, warm, and filled with fragrant steam. Alfredo had added something to the water, something that smelled a bit like camphor, or mint, Holly wasn’t certain what it was. The tub was long enough to lay down in and there was just enough room for a second pony, if both ponies didn’t mind being pressed together, side by side. As she lay in the water, Holly realised that never once did she ask how much she might get paid for her work. She sighed, filling her lungs with the strange, almost minty steam, and thought to herself that it didn’t matter. She liked adventure and excitement, and she was certain that the pay couldn’t be as bad as Knock Knock and Toot Toot complained about. At least she didn’t have to worry about house payments or rent. She just needed to make enough to feed herself and keep the house in order. She contemplated her need for a maid. She was bound to be busy and having a maid would make things easier, she supposed. It did feel weird having a maid though, as Holly believed that maids were for the wealthy. Holly understood herself a bit too well though, and knew that she hated cleaning. This house was old and dignified. It deserved to be looked after, and Holly knew that if left to her own devices, the house would soon see neglect. She lifted her right hind leg out of the water, reached down, and began to rub her thigh with both of her front hooves, trying to knead away the soreness. She hoped that lunch would be sooner rather than later, and Holly’s stomach let out a loud rumble of protest. She had skipped her midday meal, the meal between breakfast and lunch. It was now well past noon. One of Holly’s front hooves fell away from her hind leg and she clutched her stomach. It felt like she had been suckerpunched right in the gut. She was empty. If she waited any longer, it would no longer be lunch time, but time for the mid-afternoon meal, the meal Holly had to have to hold her over until supper. Holly rubbed the heavy, dense muscles of her stomach. She might have been soft and she might have a little bit of jiggle-wiggle on the surface; Holly liked to think that she was squeezable and cushioned in a pleasant way, but beneath the soft cushioned layer were slabs of rock hard muscles. Muscles that ached after Holly had done her punishing walk up the stairs carrying several hundred pounds upon her back. Holly’s spine was starting to loosen up as she soaked, and whatever Alfredo had poured into the bath made her skin feel tingly and cool even as she soaked in the steaming hot water. It was almost like the cool sensation from eating a cucumber. “Ugh, I have myself a bad case of swamp plot,” Holly said as she wiggled and squirmed in the bath, trying to make certain that the hot bath water got into hard to reach places. She could feel the sting of hot water as it soaked into delicate places that needed a good soaking. “I hope there’s food when I get out…” “Oh dear… madam…” Alfredo cleared his throat as Holly’s damp mane and tail dripped on the floor. “Hmm… madam is no doubt hungry. A lunch has been laid out on the table. I hope it is to your liking.” Alfredo raised an eyebrow as Holly walked through the living room and dining area that was the entirety of the second floor. She was sniffing and moving right for the food in a way that was alarming to witness. The well mannered unicorn hurried to the table, pulled out a well polished chair, allowed Holly to sit down, and then struggled to push her chair in. The mare weighed a ton, heavy and solid even by earth pony standards. It took every bit of magic that Alfredo had to force her chair over the floor. “Grilled cheese!” Holly cried as she pulled the cover off of the stack of sandwiches, of which there were six in total. Using her hoof, she picked one up and crammed the whole thing into her mouth. She began chewing with gusto, slurping and smacking her lips. “Madam is happy. I am pleased,” Alfredo said in a sincere tone. “There is also red wine and a creamy tomato soup, garnished with basil.” As Alfredo watched, another whole sandwich was crammed into Holly’s maw. It was almost fascinating to watch her eat. “How’d you keep it so hot?” Holly asked after she swallowed. “This is great!” “Magic. I used a little magic to keep the food at ideal temperature, and to keep the bread from going soggy as it sat under the cover.” Alfredo felt a private sense of satisfaction. He was good at what he did, domestic magics were his speciality, and it was nice to have somepony appreciate them. Even if she was taking down whole sandwiches in one bite. As Alfredo stood beside the table, he also polished the brass vents where heat came out, as well as polishing the banister rail along the stairs that went down to the bottom floor. “So, Alfredo, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get this job anyway? Did you sign up for it?” Holly asked after she had swallowed one sandwich and was now picking up another. “I was interviewed by Cara Cara herself and chosen by her. There was a long list of candidates. This was just before she died. I was very glad to get the job. I had grown weary of being a temp cleaner and wanted something with permanence,” Alfredo replied. “You’re more like a butler,” Holly said after she swallowed. She lifted up the goblet of wine, stared at it, sniffed, and then gulped down half of the glass. “Madam, if you please, never use that word again. Mind you, this is my own opinion, but I cannot stand butlers, having worked for several. Standing around all day, lollygagging, telling others what to do, how to do it, and doing none of the actual work. I cannot stand them.” “I’m sorry… I didn’t know.” Holly set her glass down. “That’s not bad wine. I like mine a little sweeter though, but this isn’t bad at all.” “Noted, madam. Sweet red it will be from now on.” Alfredo’s eyebrow arched. He grimaced as he tried to remove the crusted on layer of filth from the brass vents. “Also, I have moved your trunks upstairs to your room. I shall unpack them at some point tomorrow, if you would like.” “Thanks, that’d be great. I hate unpacking.” Holly sniffed her bowl of tomato soup. There were little green leaves sprinkled over the top, which was weird. It smelled good though. She grabbed the bowl between her front hooves, lifted it, and then began to pour it down her throat. Watching as Holly gulped down the soup, Alfredo lamented the effort he had spent in making certain that the spoon had been polished to an immaculate, mirror finish. Holly was unburdened by sophistication or complication. At least she would be easy to please. The stallion heaved an internal sigh that did not show on the outside. After letting lunch sit for a while, Holly became rather antsy. There wasn’t much to do in the house and she didn’t want to be in the way. Even though she was sore, she felt as though she needed her some exercise; or at least she needed some fun exercise after the death march up the stairs this morning. In her room, she rummaged around in her trunk, found her skates, slung them over her back, went down stairs, and then began strapping her skates on to her hooves. In no time at all, she was out the front door, down the steps, and zipping off down the sidewalk to have a bit of fun. Weaving in and out of traffic, Holly decided that skating was the best way to get around Manehatten. She was faster than the cabs and the wagons. She could weave in and out from in between them with ease. The paved roads were smooth and ideal for skating. She moved with what appeared to be effortless ease. She did have a roller skate as a cutie mark, even if it could not be seen at the moment because of her heavy woollen coat. Speed was Holly’s friend; even only average roller derby skaters were faster than the fastest race runners. And Holly was considered fast. Holly was one of the few that could move along at a mile a minute on her skates. She was no pegasus, but flying was cheating. Holly’s muscles ached in a good way. She was feeling the burn now, that deep ache that went down into the bone. She lived for this feeling, knowing that she was pushing her body to its very limits. It spoke to something deep inside of her, some great earth pony ideal that Holly could not express in words. Zipping through the shopping district, Holly saw an athletic store, a modern building made of glass, steel, and concrete. It was large, eye catching, and one corner of the building was a smoothie bar. Already, Holly was feeling peckish. She slowed to a slow roll and checked the place out. She hopped the curb, maneuvered over the sidewalk at sane speeds, mindful of other ponies, and went inside the temple dedicated to athletic excess. Coasting along the smooth tile floor, Holly found herself amongst familiar gear. There were pads for roller polo, hockey, and the roller derby. There were helmets, new helmets, helmets of a design she had never seen before. Intriguing designs. New ultra-light pads and body armor. As she rolled along, she admired the new designs, how sleek they were, how light they appeared, and some of the new designs looked like they could absorb quite an impact. Canvas filled with fluff was giving away to shaped foam and sleek plastics. And then, Holly saw something that made her stop. There was a strange pair of skates on display. The wheels were all in a straight line, making them almost like ice skates. Holly eyed the skates, almost mesmerised. The wheels were larger than her roller skate wheels and appeared to be made out of a different material. “Inline skates,” a salespony said as he approached Holly. “You look familiar…” Holly peeled her eyes away from the newfangled skates to look at the salespony, a young pegasus stallion. “Roller derby fan?” “Yes.” The pegasus nodded his head. “I’m Holly Homewrecker—” “OH MY GOSH I KNEW IT!” The stallion’s voice rose an octave, turning into an excited coltish squeal. He bounced up and down, his eyes wide with excitement. “Do you like the skates? My father, he owns this store, and a lot of the gear we sell is his own design!” “Are they fast?” Holly asked. The pegasus looked at Holly, his glee almost uncontained. “Are they fast?” The young stallion blinked. “Nopony has ever been brave enough to push these skates to their limits. Dad is still trying to convince ponies that these are a better design.” The pegasus’ face went from gleeful to shrewd in the span of a single second. “You’re a mile per minute skater and you are considered one of the most graceful skaters on the circuit.” “Was. I was. I’ve quit. Time to settle down and get a real job.” Holly looked at the skates again, her green eyes wide with lust. “Was eh?” The stallion’s eyes narrowed. “Holly Homewrecker, how would you like to make some money?” “Hey, if you are asking what I think you’re asking, you’re about to lose a whole lotta teeth, Bucko.” Holly glanced at the stallion. She had been propositioned many times before. She wondered how many things she would have to break before this one understood that ‘no’ meant ‘no,’ as in ‘never.’ “Oh no no… you misunderstand…” The young pegasus blinked. “My name is Polo, yes, my dad named me after his favourite sport. How would you feel about endorsing these skates? You will be paid… and we’ll even give you a set of skates.” The pegasus pointed at the wall and gestured at the large posters of ponies wearing various types of sports gear. “I’m retired though,” Holly said as she looked at the different posters. “Doesn’t matter. You’re a household name. You’ve been on a cereal box!” Polo replied. “I have?” Holly shook her head. She didn’t remember being on a cereal box. It must have happened without Holly’s knowledge or consent. “Yes… I still have that cereal box.” Polo looked away, embarrassed. He reached up and smoothed back his mane. “If you endorse these skates and let us take pictures of you wearing them, we can pay you and we’ll give you a set of skates. My dad is very fair in his contracts and doesn’t believe in small print. He might ask you to pose in some pads or body armor too.” “Hmm.” Holly needed money. She hadn’t counted on this happening. She looked over on the wall and saw some familiar faces. Spitfire and Soarin from the Wonderbolts stared down at her. Both were wearing sleek, streamlined goggles. “Is your dad here?” “He’s in the back. I can go get him,” Polo offered. “You go and you get him. I can’t promise nothing, but we can talk,” Holly said. “Neat!” Polo, grinning, took off at a run.