//------------------------------// // 1 - Reporting for Duty // Story: Mayor Beware // by Outlaw Quadrant //------------------------------// Mayor Beware Written By: outlaw4rc Morning? Already? My eyes weren’t ready for Celestia’s gift to attack my rich, blue eyes with such veracity. Neither was my body willing to leave the soft, yet warmth goodness of my plush blanket. Then again, as the Mayor of Ponyville, I had a plateful of important duties, including the one I thought was critical. I had the keys to Town Hall. Somepony’s gotta open it, right? Tossing away the comforter, I rolled off the bed, only that instead of my tan hoof touching floorboard, I crushed something. Fortunately, it didn’t hurt, but by just rubbing my hoof a few times, I had an idea of what I just destroyed. “Not my glasses again,” I mumbled. That was a problem, at least, for a pony that were unprepared. I got my glasses by the gross, and of course, I went to Rich’s Barnyard Bargain for them, as they had the lowest prices, zero. Filthy Rich had given me a mayoral discount although I wasn’t sure why. My assistants had told me it’s because I accidently rubber stamped some documents that allowed him to build a second store without going through the long, and I must add, costly, approval process. I honestly don’t remember doing that, since my stamp can get quite a workout every day. That reminded me, order more rubber stamps next week. I stumbled around the room, blind as a bat, until I bumped into the box with my free glasses, and put one on. Much better. Then again, ponies have told me they look old-fashioned, but I found them to be stylish. Whatever. Now that I could see, I cantered to my phonograph where I had a stack of classical and smooth jazz records. However, on the top was an album that had dollar signs on it. It was something I got back in Hearts Warming Eve when the Town Hall staff played White Elephant. Apparently, everypony in the room collaborated so that I would get this, but I hadn’t gotten to this until now. Curious, I placed it on the turntable, and moved the needle: Don't want no lovin' Don't want no kissin' Don't want no mare to call me honey Don't want my name in the hall of fame Just want a big fat pile of money It was peppy, but I liked it so far. Therefore, I went into the bathroom for a quick shower. Give me that all mighty dollar for that lettuce every hollar Give me bucket full of duckets Let me walk around and waller In Mazuma el donaro, wanna be a millionairo Give me money, money, money, money, money, money! Now I was really shaking my rump, especially every time the song mentioned money. I won’t deny that my mind often revolves around those glistening golden bits, but there was a good reason. Running Ponyville can get expensive, so I’m always on the watch in terms of either bringing more money in, or spending less. For example, early in my term, I cut the treasurer position, and transferred the duties to me, with an appropriate salary bump. After turning off the water, I wrapped a towel around me, and stepped out into a warm, misty air. Using my hooves, I polished the mirror, only to find something I loathed seeing every morning, my mane. It was pink, a wretched color that made me a target for teasing when I was a filly back in Baltimare. I fixed that when I dyed my mane gray, and moved to Ponyville. No pony was the wiser, until those Cutie Mark Crusaders caught me in the act, and became headline number one in that schoolyard rag. I did appreciate their apology, but I did make them work on my small flower garden as punishment. Out the bathroom window, I could still see the fruits of their labor, nothing but wilted plants. Admittedly, they fared no better than my attempts, save for the small fire they somehow started. I learned a lesson that day; giving them chores is asking for trouble. For a few minutes, I squeezed on a bottle, which spewed out a gooey, stinky gray substance. With some firm rubbing, I was ready for the outside world. I left the bathroom, put on my mayoral collar, walked down the stairs, and grabbed my saddleback that had the Town Hall keys inside. Swinging my pink, front door open, I trotted onto a road, immediately running into one of my many duties. I was the most important pony in Ponyville, which made me a celebrity. That’s why I had a small crowd approach me, ready with some questions. First was Mr. Waddle, an older citizen with liver spots on his head, and massive, thick-rimmed glasses. “Mayor,” he said. “That tall hill over there…” With his hoof, he traced the winding road. “…we really need to put some speed bumps.” This wasn’t the first time I’ve heard something along those lines. If only that Mare Do Well didn’t mysteriously disappear. She was doing a fine job taking care of any potential mishaps there, and she did it for free too. Speed bumps cost money, but something else didn’t. “Mr. Waddle,” I placed my hoof on his shoulder. “I promise you that for the next town meeting, I will have a speech about how we should be more careful approaching that hill.” I gave myself an invisible pat on the back for a job well done. Mr. Waddle was so impressed, he was speechless. Next up came Cheerilee, the cheerful Ponyville teacher. Well, she usually was but today, she was wearing a frown. “Excuse me, Mayor? Remember when I brought up the leaking roof in the schoolhouse two weeks ago? Well, we have a thunderstorm scheduled soon, and I was hoping if you’ve hired some ponies to fix that yet.” Drats. I’ve forgotten about that, but I can’t blame myself, though. Cheerilee mentioned that to me right before I went on my vacation. I take one every month, since being mayor can be exhausting work. My brilliant mind conjured up a solution. I did a small cough. “Yes, well, you don’t need to worry. I’ll hire the same ponies that worked on the Bowling Alley’s roof.” Another question answered. I was on a roll, or I thought I was until Cheerilee gave me a half-eyed look. “Didn’t the roof collapse soon after those ponies worked on it?” I rubbed my jaw, recollecting my claim on how I would launch an investigation into the matter. Unfortunately, I forgot about it when the day after, Twilight Sparkle’s assistant, Spike, grew in size, and rampaged through the town. It was nice of the same construction ponies that they offered to rebuild what that dragon destroyed, and fix everything else at a steep discount. Granted, I’ve received complaints about groaning walls, protruding nails, and lazy paint jobs, but it’s surprising how often the town gets struck by disasters. No need for perfect structures if they’ll be destroyed eventually. “Yes, but I’m sure that was just an isolated accident,” I said with a cheerful tone. “Next question, please.” A young, yellow mare wearing a red hat came up. Honestly, I’ve never seen before. From what I could tell, she had a pear as a cutie mark, and had a small change bag around her neck. “Ciao,” she said to me in a radiant accent. “I’m Barlett Pear. I just arrived from Neightaly a few days ago.” Excellent, I thought. Pinkie Pie wasn’t with me to ask for her name, so I saved myself some embarrassment. I shook my hoof and gave the standard five-minute long Welcome to Ponyville greeting, which covered history, locales, and a short biography about myself, of course. Once I finished with my spiel, I asked if she needed something. “Yes, my pear stand, the merchants at the Marketplace have told me I need a permit before I can open it, but—” I already knew where she was going. “Yes, dear. You’ll have to visit Town Hall, and get one from the official there.” Now I was wearing a grin, satisfied that I had completed my immediate responsibilities in an exemplary matter. “Actually, that’s my problem. The sign says they’re open at eight, but already eight thirty, and they’re still closed.” Oops. My first failure of the day, and I’m not even at my desk yet. Brushing some sweat off my brow, I stammered, “I see. Well, let’s get that taken care off, shall we?” I bolted toward Town Hall, with Pear following behind me. With every step, I could hear the jingling keys inside my saddlebag. Good, I thought. At least they were there.