“I think that’s all of ‘em,” said Apple Bloom, wiping her brow with a hoof.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders had sifted all the loose bits of mail from the leaves, and then organized them by street and address number. It was Sweetie Belle that had suggested the Crusaders divide the letters and packages amongst themselves to save delivery time. After all, it was already well past noon; ponies would be expecting their daily mail at least before sundown. Apple Bloom filled Derpy’s mailbag with the largest of the packages and slung it over her shoulder, while Scootaloo squashed the official postal hat atop her head.
“This is perfect!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle, her eyes shining like sapphires. “We’ll have our mailmares’ cutie marks in no time at all.”
“Well, yeah,” agreed Scootaloo, “but don’t you think we oughta get that ruby tiara from the jerk in 264 first? She pointed at the large house to their right. “I don’t wanna waste a single second getting that package back to it’s rightful owners. That guy deserves what’s coming to him.”
“Scootaloo, I think we need to be a little bit more careful. We need a plan before confronting somepony like him or he could hurt us, or worse!” cautioned a grim Sweetie Belle.
“Well, I agree with Scootaloo,” declared Apple Bloom. “If we don’t act soon, who’s stoppin’ him from hiding the goods or selling ‘em, even?”
Outnumbered, Sweetie Belle could only let the group drag her along. “Fine,” she groaned, “but I still say we give diplomacy a shot first.”
“Of course,” said Scootaloo, adrenalized now that they were finally moving towards a plan of action. “Let’s do this, Crusaders!”
The fillies walked up to the doorstep of 264 Mane. The house was rather large even by Ponyville standards, with two full stories and a roomy balcony which protruded over the front porch. A luxurious silver carriage with plush velvet cushioning was parked in the driveway. This was clearly a prosperous pony who valued the distinguished prestige of such a blatant display of opulence.
“Ugh,” steamed Apple Bloom. “Where does this schmuck get off in stealing other ponies’ mail? He looks like he could afford to buy half of Ponyville!”
“Quiet!” hushed Sweetie Belle as she pounded an ornate door knocker.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The ominous thumps echoed across the empty boulevard, resembling the thundering hoofsteps of death. Anxiously, the Crusaders huddled together in the shade of the balcony, dreading the approach of the pony on the other side. The cheerful rays of the afternoon sun could not penetrate the clouds of fear in Scootaloo’s heart. Shrinking away from the entrance, she imagined a fierce pony with a torn leather jacket and a bandana seizing her and shaking her violently for trying to reclaim the tiara. But before she had time to run, to scream, to do anything, the mahogany door swung wide open.
“Well, hello there!” greeted a cheerful voice.
A young mare the color of egg yolk stood before them, adorned with diamond earrings and an orange bonnet. The curls of her baby blue mane sparkled with glitter, as did the dark shadows of thickly applied eyeliner. Her sleek coat appeared to be well groomed. She beamed at the three fillies like they were old friends.
“Oh,” she cooed, “don’t you three look so cute in your little outfits!” She patted Scootaloo on the head roughly, shoving the hat over her eyes. “Honey, the Foal Scouts are here to sell cookies!” she called back into the house.
“Actually, ma’am...” began Apple Bloom, but was interrupted by the bubbly mare.
“I’m just so pleased that you three girls stopped by. Every year the Scouts came and delivered the most sensational alfalfa cookie dough. And wasn’t it just the cat’s pajamas!” She chuckled. “Everypony was asking me, Shell, where in Equestria did you find such mar-velous cookies? And no one believed me when I told them I just baked them up myself! But then the Scouts stopped coming and I was ever so disappointed.” A shadow crossed her face briefly before lightening up into her usual smile. “But of course you’re here now, aren’t you!”
“But…” Sweetie Belle interjected, but Shell wasn’t finished.
“Anyhow, listen to me ramble!” She flipped her hair back with a hoof. “Do you still have the chocolate maringues? I’ll take at least ten boxes of those, and…”
“EXCUSE ME!” Scootaloo had had enough.
The mare blinked and gave the fillies a disconcerted look. “What?” she asked dumbly.
“We’re not Foal Scouts! Today we’re mailmares,” elucidated Scootaloo, cheeks flamed with annoyance.
“Oh! I…” started the mare.
“What’s going on, Shelly?” came a baritone voice from inside the house.
A short and scruffy stallion clopped up, joining his wife at the entrance. A few tawny chest hairs poked out between the buttons of his satin olive-colored pajamas. He took off a pair of designer sunglasses and squinted at the Cutie Mark Crusaders. Stepping onto the porch, his shiny amber hair flowed like a golden river in the warm afternoon sun. His thick legs contrasted with his short stature, reminding Scootaloo of a walking footstool.
“You,” he said brusquely. “What do you want?”
“As I was about to explain,” responded Scootaloo, tilting her chin and trying to sound official, “we are representatives from the official Post Office of Ponyville, and we are here today to address a mail mix-up that happened at your address about an hour ago.” Scootaloo fidgeted, sweating. “We have reason to believe that you received a package at tw- er... 1400 hours today with mail which was not addressed to your house.” At this point her composure broke completely as she became too nervous to inhale.
Sweetie Belle picked up on this and said, “So basically, we would like you to return the package that was wrongly to delivered to you. Sir.” She gave him her best innocent smile.
The stallion was taken aback. “Do you three work for the post office? Cripes, I’m getting old. And like I told that gray pegasus earlier, the package I received had the item I ordered just a day ago from Canterlot. Hold on, I kept the paperwork.”
As the stallion disappeared, Shelly brushed down her bonnet. “Well,” she huffed. “I still think it’s rather discourteous to jump right to business without even getting your names! Why don’t you introduce yourselves.”
Scootaloo gulped. The Crusaders hadn’t discussed whether they would disclose their real names. What the situation got hairy and they needed to scram? “I’m… Suave Shoes!” she blurted out quickly.
Catching on, Sweetie Belle said, “Yeah, and I’m Curly Tail!” Her voice squeaked at the end.
Apple Bloom panicked. “Well, I’m… I’m…”
Scootaloo said quickly, “And she’s Zappy Boots!”
Charmed, Shell replied, “And I’m Shell. Shelly Fuse. Nice to meet you.” She gave the Crusaders each an enthusiastic hoofshake which left them with sore forelegs. “And you all met my wonderful husband, Shorty!”
At this, Apple Bloom snickered.
“Short, if you don’t mind!” The stallion returned with an order form in his mouth. “Or Mr. Fuse, if you please.” His voice was slightly muffled by the papers. He spat them out onto the porch for the Crusaders to look. “There! This proves that I mail-ordered the item in question just yesterday from Canterlot. Happy?”
“He’s telling the truth,” confirmed Apple Bloom in a shocked voice after giving the form a glance. “But then why…”
“Because it was a typo, like I said to that idiot pegasus who tried to steal my package earlier. Now you tell the Postal Service that they’re the ones with the mail mix-up!” Shorty’s mane bristled, his face flustered.
“Hold on a minute!” said Sweetie Belle. “You need to give us that package right now! Even if you did order the item, it will be returned once we confirm the mistake back at HQ.”
It was the wrong thing to say. “There is no way you are getting your grimy hooves on that package!” Shorty yelled. “I bet you don’t even work for the Postal Service. I bet that stupid grey pegasus put you up to this!”
“That’s sort of true,” Scootaloo let slip, then covered her mouth with a hoof hurriedly.
“AHA! You’re all fakes. I can’t believe this.” Shorty practically had smoke coming out of his ears, but he also looked nervous to Scootaloo, like he was eager for the fillies to be gone and not investigate the matter further. “This is my mail 100%, and I will not tolerate thieves of any sort. Now get off my property! I have half a mind to call the cops on you three,” he threatened.
“Short Fuse! Calm yourself! This is exactly what that doctor was talking about.” Shelly looked apologetic. To the girls, she assured, “He’s not usually like this.”
Not mollified, Shorty breathed, “You have exactly three seconds to get off my property before I throw you out. One, two…”
The Crusaders needed no further prompting. They scrambled off the porch and ran down the boulevard. Behind them, Shelli and Short Fuse went inside, the latter muttering to himself obstinately. “Tell me I got the wrong package. Fah!” The door was slammed shut.
Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle galloped for three blocks before dropping to the ground, panting.
“Now I know,” Scootaloo wheezed, “how Derpy felt.”
“What do we do, y’all?” Apple Bloom moaned. “We ain’t got no proof that that ain’t his ruby tiara, an’ furthermore, if we don’t fix this up by sundown, then Derpy’s gonna be in for it big time.”
“Something felt wrong,” expressed Sweetie Belle. “When Rarity orders her cloths and gems from Canterlot, they take about a week to arrive. The order’s shipped by train to the store, then the Office in Canterlot needs to process the mail and get the order to the right shop. And Rarity always gets her deliveries by express mail, which is the fastest mail delivery system in Equestria, besides dragon, of course.” She giggled. “So there’s no way that guy is telling the truth. It must not be his package!”
Apple Bloom shrugged. “All that may be, but that feller wasn’t no liar either. I got the feeling he was hiding somthin’ but not fibbin’ outright.”
Scootaloo concurred. “Ok, so we all agree there’s something off about that guy. I don’t know how, but he must have somehow forged that order form. We’ve got to recover that package and get it to the right address, stat.”
“Don’t forget about all the other letters!” Sweetie Belle chimed in. “We owe it to Derpy and the rest of Ponyville to complete our rounds, in either rain or sunshine.” She hopped up and brushed the grit out of her mane. “Let’s break for now, Crusaders.”
Scootaloo lifted herself from the grimy road and stretched her wings. “And then, we get that package back by any means necessary.”
The Crusaders shared a meaningful glance at the implications of this statement. The time for negotiation was over. They would have to resort to more drastic measures.
“Any means necessary,” the three fillies vowed doggedly, sharing a steely glance.