Stuff My Sister Says

by Daemon McRae

Chapter Four: "Hey, hike your tail, I can't see my own ass."

Chapter 4: “Hey, hike your tail, I can’t see my own ass.”

So Runway has decided that we both need new outfits for this party. I have mixed feelings about this. I'm no enemy of new clothing, but then again, this would be going someplace public that involves spending money. With my sister.

Shopping with my sister is... an experience. Not only because she knows all of the really good stores in Cloudsdale (and can afford them), but because her fashion sense has always skewed so far to the weird that they’re basically friends with benefits.

I’d elaborate on that analogy, but there’s no interpretation of it that I can think of that isn’t correct.

So we’re walking around this department store who’s name I don’t remember because I have the distinct feeling I will never shop here again. It’s not that I wasn’t paying attention when she told me, when we walked in, and every time I see the store name. I’m actively forgetting it even as we’re here because I don’t want to come back and fawn over all the clothes I probably can’t afford and definitely don’t need.

Runway could pull a sofa into the lobby and sleep here overnight if she wanted. Unless the sofa was tacky.

I’m currently looking through dress shirts and accessories while Project is busy eye-raping every piece of lingerie that actually matches the colors green and orange.

There aren’t very many, so they’re being especially violated.

I’m just about to pull this white button-down shirt off the rack when my tail lifts of its own accord and I hear the following sentence: “Nah, wearing white panties is like begging for your period. Next.” Then my tail drops down. I pause for a few mandatory sanity-restoring seconds before I turn around and yell.

“WHAT?!”

Whoever (I know exactly who said that, don’t lie to me) it was that just hiked my tail is gone, and everypony in eyesight is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

The thought passes that they all might be precognitive for just this moment, cause I’m feeling a little Equestrian Psycho right now.

I trot over to the lingerie section at a measured pace, and find my sister trying to decide between dark, blood red (which I think would be great for mopping up the crime scene, if there were more fabric), and rosy, not-quite-red too-dark-to-be-pink sets of panties. I stand behind her, slowly catching my breath, and see her glance over her shoulder at me. “Oh, great, you’re here. Hey, hike your tail, I can’t see my own ass.”

My breathing stops. Not because I’ve snapped, but because my brain needs all the processing power it possesses to process that sentence. I know exactly what she meant. I’m still having problems making my brain come to the same conclusion.

“What?!” I say in a slightly less yell-y voice than before.

She turns around. “Look, the biggest advantage to your ‘athlete’ shtick is that your ass is just as fabulous as mine. Now turn around so I can see if these will look good.” She holds up the pair of rosy-pink panties.

Now, it should say a lot about how used to my sister I am that my first thought is just to do what she says and get it over with. It should say even more about how not ok I am with this situation that I respond, “Not happening. They’re called mirrors, twinkle-teats.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “You don’t try on lingerie in the store! That’s disgusting!”

I raise an eyebrow even as I give her a half-lidded sarcastic stare. “Oh, sure. and mooning the general public is totally acceptable.”

She seems to think about this for a second. “You’re right,” she says, which I shouldn’t be shocked to hear, but am. Which is probably why I don’t notice her shoving me into a dressing room until the door frame pinches my tail.

“Ow, hey! What the buck?!” I protest as Runway shoves me into a small room with a barely-lockable door and a way-too-bit mirror. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

She turns (with some effort, it’s cramped in here), and locks the door behind her. “You said you didn’t want to hike your tail in public. Now we’re not in public. Now up with it.”

“Wha-no! I’m not hiking my tail for you in a department store!” I bark, trying to scoot my ass against a corner. She’s fighting back, one hoof on my cutie mark while she tries to steer me the other way.

“Oh, and you would in private? You perv,” she teases, trying to get a grip on my tail.

“SHUT UP!” I screech, doing everything except kicking her in the teeth, which to be honest isn’t that far-fetched of an idea right now.

“Oh come on! This would be so much easier if you’d just cooperate! It’s not like I’m trying to violate you or anything! I just wanna see your ass!” she snaps at me like I’m the one doing something wrong.

...and then I remember we’re pegasi. So I flap my wings hard as I can and fly over the door to the changing room. Or try to. I feel a tug on my rear, a hard tug, and turn around to see she has my tail by her teeth. “Oh, what?! Let go!”

“Nrr! Grrt dnn hrr nnn shrr mi drt rss!” she growls through my tail fur.

I’ve seen this episode of every cartoon ever like a dozen times. I cup a hoof behind my ear and say, “Sorry? What was that?”

She lets go of my tail, and repeats herself: “No! Get down her and show me- oh you sneaky little wafflewasher!”

I’m halfway through flying through the store when I stop and turn around in mid-air. “...What in Equestria is a wafflewasher?”

She rounds the corner to the hall of dressing rooms that I somehow missed her shoving me through, panties on one ear, and barks, across nearly the entire store: “It’s an uncooperative cloudgrinding meanie who won’t show me her ass!”

I don’t yell back. I don’t even retort. I just gently float back to the ground, cross my front hooves, and stare at her with a smile.

While the entire department store stares at her like she’s lost her head. After a few savory moments of awkward (for her) silence, a stallion in a uniform trots up to her, and coughs. “Um, miss. We’re going to have to ask you to take the panties off your head, and leave the store.”

She looks at him, and looks at me, and somehow it takes till just then for the entire absurd scenario to piece itself together. She blushes so brilliantly the underwear could double as camouflage, take them off slowly, and puts them on the counter. “O-ok,” she squeaks, and trots away. She walks past me, not saying a word, and leaves the store.

I shouldn’t feel bad. It doesn’t make sense to feel bad about this. She’s the psycho sister-molesting public nuisance.

...dammit.

So I trot outside after her, and look around the storefront for her. Runway’s currently standing off to the side of the building, slowly pawing some cloudstone. I mosey up behind her, and tap her on the shoulder. “Hey, sis, you ok?”

She sniffs, not looking at me. “That was... really embarrassing.”

I try not to smile. “Yes, well. These things happen.”

Another sniffle. She silently plops down on her haunches. “Yeah, but... it always happens to me. I’m always running my mouth or saying the first thing that pops into my gigantic weirdo head. I can’t even buy clothes like a normal pony.”

I feel a sigh escape me, and wrap a forelimb around her. “Look, just because you say the first thing that comes to mind doesn’t make you a bad mare. I’ve heard some of those unrestrained thoughts. Sure they’re a little weird, but they aren’t bad or mean. If everyone said exactly what they thought when they thought it we’d all sound like you.”

She looks up at me quietly. “You think so?”

“Of course,” I tell her. “I mean, it doesn’t help that I could end all your sentences with ‘That’s what she said’, but you aren’t bad. Just... impulsive.”

She smiles at me. “I’m sorry I yelled at you and tried to molest you.”

“I’m sorry I wouldn’t hike my tail for you. Come on, let’s go back inside, and I’ll explain everything. Then I’ll be your underwear model, ok?”

She rights herself, and wipes a tear from her eye. “Ok.”

---------------

“In hindsight, you probably could have explained that better.”

“In hindsight, shut up.”

“I mean, you could have just said ‘modeled some underwear’.”

“I said shut up, Runway.”

“Look at the bright side, there are plenty of stores we haven’t been kicked out of that you can model your ass for me in.”

“I’m never, ever going clothes shopping with you again,” I growl, as we walk through downtown. The doors to the ‘Whatever-the-hell-store’ are firmly closed behind us.

“I’ll buy you ice cream.”

“...”

“Lightning Dust?”

“Just take us to the next damn store.”

Comments

[Skeeter The Lurker]

Pfffttttt...

Oh to have been in that store...

~Skeeter The Lurker

[The Grey Pegasus]

God I love this story.

[Seether00]

HAHAHAHHAHHAHA!

That was awesome! So much sisterly love here.

[blindbronyinblack]

[thasbrony]

that was freaking funny

[Thunder Quill]

[Techno Flare]

Wow, nice little development point for Runway. It really shows her true colors.
All that aside... this has to be one of the funniest chapters on FimFic.

[Lag Incarnate]

ONLY a twin...

[The Princess Rarity]

These two are your classic tv sitcom sisters - and I love it!

[Breaking News]

That was both laugh out loud funny and slightly heartwarming. Seems funny they'd even need panties in a society where everyone trots around nude.

I guess the store guard is also there to stop any peeping tom pegasi also hanging out by the changing rooms? ...Why did my mind go there?

[Eclipse LunarSol]

I'm glad I followed you. You're stories are just fantastic! I'll make sure to request something from you in the future via PM for one of my stories.

[Blast]

Runway Project is a whacked-out loon. Lightning Dust is a straight-laced workhorse.

[AyanamiRei]

Wow....just..wow o.o;