“Mondays are always the worst,” Lyra groaned as she rubbed her nose. Mondays were usually the time she met new, or one-time-only patients who had minor human-related problems. Or pony-related problems stemming from human-related problems, and various mixes in between. Either way, Mondays sucked, and this one was no different.
Such was the life of an Anthropologist.
Today’s problem was a young human male, approximately twenty-one years old, who had been given a court order by Mayor Mare to visit Lyra after a major complaint was filed against him.
“Ricky, this has to stop,” Lyra said flatly, looking at the cause of the complaint included in the man’s folder. “I mean… really… stop now, don’t ever do it again.”
“It was just a joke,” the young man, Ricky, stated with a pout.
Lyra scowled and lifted up one of the items, marked with a date so she knew which one was which. “This one, the first one you made, could have been seen as a joke. But, proceeding to make eighty-seven more is crossing the line like an illegal immigrant on steroids and crack.”
“Hey, that stupid portal yanked me here, I didn’t have a choice,” Ricky pointed out.
Lyra groaned. “Don’t try and twist my metaphors, kid. I already had one particularly difficult appointment this morning, don’t make it worse.”
Ricky looked at her desk. “Is that Mein Kompf?”
“Don’t touch that,” Lyra cried out, taking up the curtain rod and swinging it defensively. “It’s being returned… by… me… of course. Paying a fine is a great way to start the week.” She grabbed the book in her magic and shoved it firmly into her saddlebags, which hung by a hook near the door. “Stupid Lyra.”
“Oookaayy,” Ricky said with a slow nod, beginning to stand up. “Are we done now? I just stop doing it and everything goes back to normal.”
Lyra forced him back down with her magic. “Nope. If that was all it took, you wouldn’t be here.”
Ricky muttered something under his breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Milky Way happens to be a good friend of mine,” Lyra said as she splayed out the multitude of rather inappropriate drawings in front of her. “I am taking it upon myself to help resolve this issue between you two. Starting with why you thought it would be ‘funny’ to draw these.”
Ricky looked at the picture and then cleared his throat nervously. “Okay, maybe I did get a little carried away.”
Lyra’s eyebrows tabled. “There’s nothing little about any of this. Speaking as a mare, I can tell you that just looking at this picture makes my lower back cry in pain. For crying out loud, you’re lucky she’s concerned about you, this could easily have been used as evidence of you defaming her business if she had decided to take it to court.”
Ricky was taken aback. “She’s concerned about me?”
Incredibly, Lyra managed to make her eyebrows table even further. “Was that all you got out of everything I just said? Ugh, yes, she’s concerned. This is not normal, or even acceptable, behavior.”
“No one would have ever known if Rainbow Dash hadn’t stolen my binder and decided to play keep-away.”
“It never would have landed on Milky’s head if you hadn’t decided to throw snowballs in an attempt to make Dash drop it.”
“Milky would never have opened the binder if Rainbow Dash hadn’t retaliated with a snow storm.”
“And none of this would have ever happened if you had just not drawn these pictures in the first place,” Lyra stated, depositing the whole collection into the man’s lap. “We’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible, Ricky for your own good. If she had decided to go tell her husband, we’d be having a scavenger hunt just to take you to the hospital… most likely the morgue.”
“She’s married?” Ricky cried out in shock.
Lyra’s twisted her face into an odd expression and nodded. “Yeeessss.”
“Since when?”
“Since about eight years ago,” Lyra spoke slowly and carefully.
“I guess I never paid that much attention.”
“She’s had three foals,” Lyra pointed, gesturing with her hoof. “Surely you must have seen her playing with them at least once.”
A light seemed to come on inside his head. “Ooooh. So that’s who they were, I just thought she was really friendly.”
Resisting the urge to face hoof, Lyra picked up her clipboard and crossed out a small section. “So you weren’t stalking her?”
Ricky almost jumped in his seat. “What? Why would you think I was doing that?”
Lyra justed turned her attention to the pictures that had fallen to the floor. Ricky grinned sheepishly and blushed.
“Okay, maybe I can see where you got that idea,” he attempted a laugh, but it sounded like a strangled goat. “No, I was doing no such thing, I found out she was a milkmare, looked up what that was, and… well…”
“And that adolescent portion of your post-teenage brain just kicked into high gear?” Lyra suggested. Ricky cringed and nodded. “Okay. I can tell Milky that she doesn’t need to carry a shotgun with her around town anymore. After I do that, you are going to give her a written apology, and a verbal apology, hand delivered.”
“Are you sure she’ll even want to see?” Ricky asked, worriedly.
Lyra nodded. “We were all at that point at one time, Ricky. We’re all fallen creatures, and if we cannot forgive each other’s shortcomings, than what good are we?”
Ricky began to gather up the pictures. Lyra helped him, sweeping them up in her magic and thrusting them into his hands. He paused a moment, and looked at her, she just stared back, waiting for what he would do. He dumped them into her wastebasket.
Lyra beamed him a smile. “I’m proud of you Ricky. To think, it was only a year or so ago that the portal spat out your frightened body and the citizens of Ponyville brought you to my office.”
Ricky turned a little red in the cheeks, and ran his fingers through his hair. “So… are we done?”
Lyra looked at the clock. “We still got another forty-five minutes.”
“What’ll we do in that time?” Ricky asked.
Lyra levitated her quill and a piece of paper over to him and cleared her throat. “Help you write that apology letter of course.”
Ricky shrugged. “Sure. How do I start?”
Lyra took up a matter-of-fact attitude and quickly began. “Dear Mrs. Way…”
Ricky wrote what he was told. “Okay, standard opening, got it.”
Lyra continued. “I’m sorry for comparing your bozangas to a bloated cow’s udder.”
The quill snapped in half and Ricky stared at the smirking mare. “What?”
Lyra narrows her eyes above the fiendish grin. “You want out of this, right?” Ricky nodded. “Then you will write what I say.” A fresh quill was quickly placed into the young man’s shaking hand. “It’s for the best, Ricky. Trust me.”
Lyra was about to begin another sentence, when a thought crossed her mind. “Hold on… no, don’t write that… I’m just curious. You said you didn’t know Milky had children, right?”
Ricky nodded.
“Then… how did you think she gave milk?”
Sometimes humans were just weird. Also, Lyra would never again be able to look at a tuba the way.