//------------------------------// // 12. Easy Money // Story: Buggy and the Beast // by Georg //------------------------------// Buggy and the Beast Easy Money “Evening, Nek. Pull up a chair.” Beet Salad gestured to the kitchenette table, which actually had enough space for two ponies to sit now, as well as two steaming bowls of oatmeal. Well, one and a half. Although it caused unpleasant family memories to drift around in the back of his mind, Beets was relishing the taste of hot oatmeal with brown sugar, just hot enough to sear the tongue without leaving permanent injuries. He shoved the brown sugar bowl over to Nectarine as his batwinged buddy thumped down in the other chair and began shoveling in the oats. “Best bug infestation ever.” Nectarine wiped his muzzle on a paper towel and took a swig of carrot juice before slowing his chewing with a thoughtful frown. “You know, I distinctly remember you promising to turn over your housekeeper to the Baltimare police once she was healthy enough.” “Would you like some haycon and hash browns?” asked the ‘pegasus’ standing on her hind legs and stretching at the stove in order to use the flipper in her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.” Nectarine chewed on the additional breakfast goodies with a thoughtful expression. “What was I saying, Buggy?” “You’re going to be late to work if you don’t waddle off in that direction.” The disguised changeling tucked a paper sack onto Beet Salad’s back and gave him a kiss on the horn. “Hurry home, honey. My hip is feeling a lot better.” Nectarine, to his credit, did manage to withhold comment until the two of them were nearly at work, but promptly spoiled Beets’ well-fed mood by asking, “Did you buy a ring yet?” “No!” Beets spluttered and gave an abbreviated lecture on changeling mating rituals to his friend, which he accepted with his usual grace. Lying on his back and beating his membranous wings against the pavement, Nectarine fairly howled with laughter until Beets stalked off to punch in for work before he yielded to temptation and punched out his best friend. * ♥ * The night passed fairly easily, with no annoying picketers outside the docks and a general lack of incidents. At lunch, Beets unpacked a few bran muffins and a spinach salad with baby carrots, artichoke hearts, and low-fat dressing, giving the meal a long look somewhat mixed in emotions. It was what he should have been eating instead of canned beans and stale burritos from the food wagon lurking around the docks on occasion, and his heart probably would benefit from it, but he could not shake the feeling of being a potted plant, being carefully fertilized and watered in order to be eaten later. After leaving the idea bang around in his head for a while (and regretting the mental imagery), Beets decided it would be better shared, and turned to Nectarine. “In the movies, the poor mare or stallion infected by the monster always looks all strung out and unhealthy. I think I’ve been attacked by a health bug.” Nectarine looked him over and clucked his tongue. “The Beast does look a lot better now. Once she takes off, you want to pick up some mares and go clubbing? Without the club, this time. “He deserved it. The creep made fun of my tail.” Beets swished his pink tail forward and paused, looking at the royal blue bow tied into it without him noticing. “I’m going to kill her.” “Wait until after she makes lunch for tomorrow,” said Nectarine with his mouth full of muffin crumbs. “These are good.” * ♥ * Dawn was threatening the horizon with a rosy glow while Beets strolled almost casually back to the office in order to punch out for the evening. Idiosyncrasy had sent a note to the the Port Authority claiming his violent tendencies were not a danger to anypony at work, and that she had scheduled weekly sessions for the next few months in order to ensure his behavior would remain controlled. It almost felt like a note from the teacher, but as long as it made the Port Authority pretend their vast family of employees was not going to be disturbed by a crazy relative, he could live with it. Besides, the appointments were paid for by the company, and on Saturday mornings, which left him with nearly the whole weekend free. He still wasn’t quite sure why having the weekends free felt so good. Or why it felt acceptable to spill his emotional guts to a bug. The folded up note attached to his timecard would not have worried Beet Salad as much if Supervisor Fits had not been standing next to it and looking at Beet Salad as if he was treading mud into the Moove museum. “Mister Beet Salad!” The administrative earth pony looked Beets up and down without the normal wrinkling of the nose which normally followed. “Well, at least you’re bathed and looking decent, but where is your jacket!” “My jacket?” echoed Beets. “The jacket you need to wear to court this morning! The jacket I told you to get in the note I stuck on your timecard this morning! That jacket!” “I don’t have a jacket—” Beets thought back to the far too small plastic-wrapped black suit coat in his closet which he had worn only three times “—accessible right now, sir. It’s got a bunch of boxes stacked on top of it, and could take a few hours to dig out. Why do I need to go to court?” “The anarchist you… abused a few nights ago is filing his complaint in civil court this morning. Our attorney says that if we can get a counterclaim to Lord Even Keel at approximately the same time, we stand a good chance of getting the case dismissed right there. Come on, I think one of the employees in the office has a suit about your size.” Beets held onto his timecard and considered his next move. “Will I be paid overtime?” * ♥ * “All rise. The Honorable Judge Lord Even Keel presiding.” The rustling of the half-dozen ponies in the courtroom died away as an elderly unicorn with greying temples and a growing bald spot just behind his horn settled down in the ornate chair at the front of the courtroom. “Be seated. Bailiff will call the first civil request on the docket.” The judge fixed a pair of wire-rimmed glasses to his nose and regarded the thick bundle of papers which the bulky bailiff brought over. “First civil request is from a Mister Fire Brand, regarding an unprovoked assault on his person in regards to a peaceful protest at the site of the Baltimare Airship Port.” “I see.” The judge fanned several papers from the folder out in front of him. “And is the plaintiff present in court this morning?” “We are, Your Honor.” A rough-looking earth pony mare dressed in a crisp suit stood up and nodded towards the judge. “Miss Vigilantibus of the firm Equity, Estoppel and Vigilantibus, and my client, Mister Brand.” The skinny young unicorn next to the lawyer sniffed once, holding a tissue to his nose while sitting on a large cushion. His flame-red mane and tail was not done up in the spiky style he had sported while throwing flaming bottles at the docks, and as much of his coat visible under a long-sleeved sweater and a soft Spainish serepe seemed to have been stained back to his natural mauve coloring. With the nerdish glasses perched on his nose and his generally passive appearance in the light, he looked more like a graduate student than the anarchist Beets had seen in the night encounter. “Very well.” The judge sorted some more papers. “I take it the Port Authority has sent you to quash the charges, Mister Hedges?” The similarly well-dressed stallion to Beets’ side stood up. “Yes, Your Honor. As the plaintiff was engaged in criminal activity at the time of the incident, and our client’s employee was acting in order to protect innocent life—” “Objection, Your Honor.” Vigilantibus stood up. “My client was engaged in a meditative experience where he was expanding his karmic presence in an act of peaceful protest when this beast—” the lawyer glared at Beet Salad “—assaulted him in a clearly unprovoked manner.” “He abused me,” sobbed the skinny mauve unicorn, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweater. “I may never recover from the trauma, and my future career as a physical therapist for orphans is ruined.” “Order in the court.” The judge used his magic to rap the gavel once. “Further outbursts will not be tolerated. Is Mister Beet Salad the only witness for the defense?” “No, Your Honor,” said Hedges. “In the event that testimony from our employee is not enough to have the case dismissed, we have two more witnesses, although I am reluctant to call them to the stand.” The judge favored Hedges with a doubting look. “Who?” “Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Prince Shining Armor, Your Highness. They are currently in discussions with the City Council downstairs this morning.” The judge seemed to consider the idea with a great deal of seriousness and the occasional twitch in his cheek. “As this is an informal hearing, I don’t see a pressing need to involve one of Equestria’s princesses unless she volunteers her assistance. I notice there was no police report in the file.” “Your Honor, if I may?” Vigilantibus stood back up again. “My client encountered vicious prejudice when attempting to file a police report. As a redeemed member of society, his sealed juvenile criminal record is still unfairly used by the police in order to oppress him, so he was unable to find an unbiased member of our constabulary to take his statement. We did compose a statement on our own and put it in the complaint,” she added helpfully. “I see.” The judge took a moment from his paperwork to look at Beet Salad. “Mister Salad, if you can record a statement to the events in question and return it to the court within three days, I’ll schedule another informal hearing for early Friday morning to see if the case should be dismissed or go on to a more formal stage. Bailiff, take this note to Princess Cadenza and Shining Armor downstairs, please. If they’re willing to give a statement, we can resolve some of the ambiguities in the case today.” * ♥ * Beet Salad decided to stick around for a little while, remaining in one of the courtroom observation area chairs and watching the Port Authority’s lawyer, in particular keeping focused on the expensive mane extension on the back of the lawyer’s neck while keeping the suddenly peace-loving anarchist in his peripheral vision. Whenever he spotted a surreptitious glance in his direction by ‘Mister Brand,’ Beets would maintain his innocent observation of the Port Authority lawyer and just let a little bit of smile leak out around the edges. It was almost as much fun as beating his brainless head in would have been, and with none of the legal consequences, but it still irked him to sit and do nothing while listening. The plaintiff's lawyer spun a candy-cane dream of his innocent client, caught up in the violence which he detested so much and abused by the ‘gender-biased, cisnormal bigot with a history of anger issues’ who had stalked him through the peaceful protesters and singled him out for his perverted bodily violation. Apparently the judge was just as ignorant of the derogatory phrases as Beets, and asked several times for clarification of some of the most flowery ones. Beets was particularly interested in how he could be both a ‘tool of the oppressive patriarchy’ and a ‘bigoted monster’ at the same time, as one was used as a tool and the other used tools, but his musing was disrupted by the sound of the courtroom door opening and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza’s voice whispering, “We’ll just slip in and wait for Judge Keel to take a break.” “Princess Mi Amore!” Judge Even Keel stood up in the middle of the lawyer’s long-winded rant and gestured the Royal Couple forward. “Come in, come in. I didn’t want to interrupt any business you had with the Town Council, but I’ve got this case that just came up, and if you could help out, I’d appreciate it.” “It’s no problem at all, Even. Please, call me Cadence. We were just getting ready to go out for a day’s shopping when we got your note. Oh, Mister Beet Salad!” Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, or Cadence as she wanted to be called now, was a toucher. She brushed a warm hoof across Beet Salad’s shoulder with an even warmer smile behind it. “So nice to see you again. Did you bring your marefriend, or is she at work?” But before Beets could stammer out a reply, the Princess of Love had begun to move forward through the waiting area and the counsel’s tables like a threshing machine through wheat. Every pony in the room seemed to know her and have a new little relative whose picture needed cooing over or a quick word or two of congratulation on her wedding. Shining Armor simply proceeded along behind her, much as a heavy cruiser might follow an icebreaker, although with a certain wary expression that promised polite violence on her behalf should anypony decide to become a threat. He did make a point of exchanging glances with Beet Salad, more as a simple acknowledgment of Beets’ existence and relative category of non-threatening spectator, subject to recategorization on the shortest notice. “So, Prin— I mean, Cadence,” said the judge with obvious reluctance at using her naked name. “Do you remember seeing Mister Fire Brand over there a week ago when you stopped off at the docks during their ‘little incident’ with all of the protesters?” Princess Cadence looked over at the stunned plaintiff and shook her head. “Sorry, Even. I don’t remember seeing… Wait a minute. I almost didn’t recognize him without his spiked manestyle and all the piercings. He’s Smokey Top’s son, right? The fire chief in town last year? He’s gotten so big. Hi, Sparky!” The blushing young unicorn did return her wave, but seemed more interested in something on the floor than actually meeting her eyes. “Anyway,” she continued, “Sparky over there was talking to Mister Salad in the middle of the street when it looked like he pulled a knife—” “Objection, Your Honor,” said Miss Vigilantibus. “My client is a peaceful adherent to non-violent methods. He no longer possesses anything more dangerous than a spoon since his conversion several years ago.” “It was most definitely a knife,” insisted Cadence. “Double-edged, about three or four hooves long, and handled like a professional.” “Objection again, Your Honor. The witness is an alicorn princess, and does not know anything about professional—” The lawyer paused, looking at Shining Armor as if the Captain of the Royal Guard were about to produce a blade of his own and demonstrate its professional use on a not-so-random lawyer in the vicinity. “I withdraw my objection, Your Honor.” “Why did you back down?” hissed Fire Brand once the lawyer had seated herself again. “Common sense,” hissed the lawyer back at her client. “Now shut up.” “You shut up, bitch,” he hissed back just barely loud enough for Beets to hear, and most likely loud enough for the Royal Couple to hear too. “Dad’s paying you enough to get more than a pissy…” The rest of Fire Brand’s conversation with his lawyer was too quiet for Beets to hear, but from the expression on Cadence’s face, the profanity had just begun and she was too polite to react to it. It would have done Beets a lot of good to pick up one of the oak tables with his magic and beat some sense into the pinheaded young twit, but without a sufficient provocation, particularly in the middle of a courtroom, it would only get him in deeper crap than if he were a changeling and dropped his disguise. Oh. That’ll work. “You know, Mister Fire Brand over there looks an awful lot different than when I met him on the street,” mused Beets in a voice just loud enough to be heard by the half of the courtroom which mattered. “I wonder if he could be a changeling.” “A changeling?!” The mauve unicorn teen stood up and pointed a hoof. “Defamation of character! Add it to the charges, Vince.” “Shut up!” hissed his lawyer. “A changeling?” Judge Keel rapped his gavel firmly on the table. “Mister Salad, do you have any proof of your allegation?” “I’m sorry, Your Honor,” said Beets. “I was just thinking out loud. I mean, at work we learned two very useful spells from Prince Shining Armor, one of which can be used to strip away a changeling’s disguise. Not that I think Mister Brand is a changeling, of course. Just that he’s acting… different.” The judge paused with a thoughtful expression, taking in the young unicorn who had begun to sob uncontrollably, his lawyer who seemed about ready to slap some sense into her client, and Shining Armor. “Prince Shining Armor, is this true? Can you detect changelings?” “Yes, Your Honor. Now we can. It’s a fairly easy spell and harmless to the subject. Also,” he continued with a puzzled glance at Beets, “the city council has issued a blanket edict permitting any local or Crown law enforcement agent within the city to use the changeling detection spell on any suspected changeling, regardless of permissions or probable cause.” “It must be harmless then,” said the judge. “Would you care to demonstrate it for the court, Your Highness?” “Certainly.” This time when Shining Armor glanced over at Beets, he was ready and mouthed the word “Two.” Shining Armor’s puzzled expression went away almost immediately, replaced with an impassive face and a set to his jaw which any recruiting officer for the Royal Guard would have photographed and put into their window immediately. After all, Shining Armor had most probably been in or heard tales about other riots, and the aftereffect of a flying bottle of burning fuel was not pretty. Shining Armor arranged the young unicorn in place while lecturing in a stern voice, much like a drill sergeant would use to describe Royal Guard policy to a recruit, and once everything was in place, cast the spell. That is, the second of the two spells which he had taught Beets. The one which would forcefully strip away a changeling’s disguise, along with any other ongoing enhancements such as medical spells on unhealed injuries. Fire Brand had been standing in place with a sly smirk, most probably counting the number of bits he could get from his ongoing lawsuit, until the spell swept over his hindquarters. Even though Beets knew what the spell felt like from his limited experience with his extracted teeth, he still winced as the young unicorn shot almost straight up in the air, apparently propelled by an endless stream of profanity which would have shocked a sailor. Second degree anal burns must take a while to heal. The young unicorn hit the floor of the courtroom rump-first, scooting around like a pug dog trying to wipe his ass on the grass and howling loud enough to wake the dead. It was both intensely funny and horribly not-funny at the same time, although the funny went away the instant the young unicorn produced a foreleg-long knife from under his sweater and launched himself at Prince Shining Armor with a scream of rage. “You bucking bastard! I’ll kill you for this!” Beets was still reaching out with his magic when Shining Armor took a casual step backwards, and the oak table he was standing next to took several non-casual ‘steps’ forward, catching the magic-held knife first, and then crashing into the back wall of the courtroom. It all happened in such a short period of time that Beets had barely managed to lift the chair he was sitting in before it was all over. The judge, who was holding his gavel as if he had been getting ready to throw it, gave Miss Vigilantibus a long, dry look. “Your client is a peaceful adherent to non-violent methods, right?” “Pillar of the community,” she managed to croak. The table had passed right next to her on the way to making a client sandwich out of itself, her client and the back wall of the courtroom. “And I suppose that is a spoon,” he said, regarding the long blade which had fallen to the floor. “I think we can safely say Mister Fire Brand is not a changeling. He is about to need the services of a good criminal defense lawyer, though.” He eyed the way the oak table had embedded itself into the courtroom wall, leaving none of the young unicorn visible except the end of his tail. “And possibly some medical treatment.” “Your Honor, if I may approach the bench.” Shining Armor stepped forward, somehow also managing to place one steel-clad hoof on the knife during his motion and breaking the blade in half. “The discipline of Royal Guard has always been an option for misguided youth with a history of violence.” “You would have him protect the Princesses?” Shining Armor shrugged. “There have been far worse. Some of the finest members of the force had a criminal record before they went through training and put on the armor. The current Commander of the Day Guard still has an open warrant in Baltimare, if I remember correctly. Something about a statue in the town square, several taxicabs, and the harbor. I’m certain Mister Fire Brand would make a excellent cadet.” He spared the young unicorn a sympathetic glance as the bailiff was attempting to pry him out from the wall. “We may want to wait until he has recovered before we put the proposal to him, though.” * ♥ * Missus Spitonoikokýris was getting more difficult to dodge. If Beets had an exterior window in his apartment, he might have considered slipping in that way, but a few pebbles tossed in one direction while Beet Salad slipped in the door behind her worked perfectly. The apartment was a disaster area. It smelled of paint and plaster with plastic sheets thrown over everything he could see, like some strange ghostly hauntings made out of his possessions. Despite it being almost noon, any desire he had to get horizontal and unconscious was drowned out by a paint-splattered pegasus who came out of the bathroom with a brush between her teeth. “Just a minute,” called out the disguised changeling, taking the time to wash out the brush in the kitchenette sink. “What did you do?” whispered Beets. “I rent. I can’t even put a nail in the wall without Missus Spitonoikokýris throwing a fit. She’s going to charge me enough to renovate the whole city block.” The unlocked door at his back creaked open and his griffon landlady poked her beak into the room, looking somewhat cowed and timid compared to her normal meaner demeanor. “Ah, Mister Salad. Um…” The disguised changeling squealed with glee and threaded her way through the maze of plastic-draped boxes to throw her forehooves around the old griffon’s neck. “Spivy! I was just telling Beetsie here how generous you were tonight, what with the lead paint and such.” “Lead paint?” Beets tried to keep a straight face, which was easier when he considered just how much money he was out from the household renovations. “Oh, I just thought it was lead paint, because I’m such a ditz, but I told Spivy about it last night and how it really wasn’t a problem because I know this really handsome unicorn at City Hall who could strip the whole apartment in one night. He works in Code Enforcement, but he’s got this night job doing lead paint cleanup and I told her he could even deal with those holes we had in the ceiling from the—” the changeling winked “—recreational equipment. Well, Spivy here knows a pony who knows a pony and they came over just an hour after you left for work, Beetsie and stripped the whole apartment right down to the base. Of course it didn’t test positive for lead like I thought, so I offered to cover the expense and have my friend from Codes do all of the repainting, and she said to just repaint the apartment myself and save the bits. So she bought the paint and I’ve been painting all night, can you believe it, Beetsie?” From the gloss on the walls and the splatters of Off White Interior Gloss across the changeling’s disguise, she had indeed been hard at work with paintbrush and roller the whole night, but he could not resist one last poke at his landlady. After walking through the living room and taking a moment to remember the changeling’s assumed name, he nodded. “It looks good, Sultry. Are you sure you don’t want your friend in Code Enforcement to come over and fix the…” Beets looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember where the badly-patched holes were, because he could not see even the slightest hint of damage. “Do you like it, Beetsie?” The disguised changeling sashayed through the piles of boxes with a sinuous gait and slipped up besides Beets. “Spivy brought along some plaster and patched the holes just like it said in the how-to book. She even said she was going to refund your bits, since she didn’t have to hire a repairpony.” “Half the bits,” said the crotchety old griffoness with a distinct bob to her neck as she looked around the cluttered apartment. “Well, I better get going. Third floor has a faucet out, and I need to… Goodbye.” Beets managed to maintain his impassive face until he had latched and locked his apartment door securely, but when he turned to the disguised changeling, she had already vanished. Her voice did filter back from the bathroom. “I’m grouting the tub and the instructions say to leave it set for five hours before getting it wet, so you’re going to have to skip your bath tonight.” “What has gotten into you, crazy bug?” Beets poked his nose into the bathroom and watched the short changeling holding the squeegee full of goop in her mouth with intent concentration as she worked it across the tiles. “Nesting,” she muttered from the side of her mouth. “It’s part of the moulting process. I started by running down to the bodega on the other side of the block and renting a carpet shampooer, but Missus Spitonoikokýris poked her nose in when I was hitting the chorus and the rest of the night just kinda… happened. If you go grab a roller out in the living room, you should be able to put a second coat on now.” “Have you eaten anything?” The changeling was somewhat smaller than a normal pony anyway, but the furry sides of the pegasus disguise looked almost concave, and a sympathetic growling echoed to his words. “Can’t eat. Too busy. I made your lunches for the next few days and stuck them in the icebox. They’re labelled. I got the kale and the artichokes when I took the carpet shampooer back after ripping your thin carpet almost in half. I hope you like thousand island because that’s the only salad dressing they had in the little plastic packages. And there’s a dozen oranges in a bag in the kitchen. Eat one every night.” “I don’t like—” Beets glared at his busy roommate and rolled his eyes. “Do you have any food allergies or preferences other than artichokes?” “No allergies, but I love anchovies,” said the changeling with a heartfelt sigh which almost made her drop the container full of grout. “Yummy little fishies. Clams and oysters too. Anything but mushrooms. I got sick of mushrooms back at the hive. Beets?” The changeling looked up only to find the bathroom empty. Giving a shrug, she went back to her task. It was close to an hour later when Beets slipped back into the bathroom with a steaming slice of pizza in his magic. “There was a line. Open up.” “I don’t need — Ummmm…” The changeling chewed and used a sponge on the grouted tiles for a while. Everytime she swallowed, Beets inserted another piece of pizza until she finally gave off a stentorian belch. “Enough. I didn’t even know they put clams on pizza.” “Missus Spitonoikokýris has a grandchild who works at this pizza joint a few blocks away,” admitted Beets. “We get a discount, and it’s run by griffons, so they’ll spike a pie with just about anything.” He took a bite out of his own mushroom and garlic pizza slice before emitting a matching belch. “So, how much longer are you going to nest before you fall asleep on your hooves?” “The grouting looks good, so all that’s left is caulking the tub, sink, toilet, and any other holes I can find to put calk in. An hour, if you want it done right,” declared the changeling with an evaluating look at the rest of drying tile in the bathroom. “You’ve got the freaky magic for the tricky corners, so go paint the kitchen cabinets. I promise to quit then and get some sleep. I can feel your tasty concern all the way over here.” She wriggled her tail and giggled. “Yummy.” Beets scoffed, nearly snorting a mushroom up his nose. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m just a pizza to you.” “Yeah, right.” The changeling continued caulking while Beets stayed put, eating his pizza. Eventually he grunted and dropped the dry crust back into the pizza box with one final quip. “Naa, I’m not a pizza to you. You can love pizza.” “What?” The changeling nearly dropped her calking compound tube into the bathtub and turned to glare at Beets. “I broke into song while cleaning your rotten apartment! Right there with the carpet cleaner and suds all over the place! I tore a hole in the carpet and it took forever to clean up the mess! Dancing around, singing about how I wasn’t going to say I was in…” After waiting for the changeling to continue, Beets wrinkled up his nose. “You broke into song? Are we talking a solo or something that I’ll have to apologize to the whole apartment building for you dragging them into a full production with synchronized dancing and a chorus line?” The changeling slumped, her disguise burning away in green fire until she looked like her shabby violet self again. “Solo,” she muttered, picking up the tube of calk and returning to her work. “Just like your love life.”