Neither Rain, Nor Sleet, Nor Grappleglorp...

by Dash The Stampede

...Will Keep Him From His Duties

Deep in the void between dimensions, a lone creature soared, its fresh catch still squirming in its claws. Deep in the void, a mailpony found his greatest fears taken physical form. Deep in the void, a draconequus gushed over Gala tickets brought by the swift hooves of the Equestrian Postal Service.

As far as days went, it could have been worse, Booko Stamps reasoned. His first week on the job had been rather boring, carting letter after letter around his locale, with the occasional package or oddity crossing his path. Whether it be a runaway baby carriage filled with fireworks, a Princess' peachy intervention, or a rooftop disco flash mob, Stamps found the job had its share of unexpected hazards.

Today, however, would take the cake. And thirty-nine more, Stamps reasoned.

As the merciless void fish-beast carrying him in its pointed claws careened through the endless abyss, his mind flashed through his intriguing, albeit short, career as one of Equestria's finest. From the day he earned his cutie mark delivering a lost bag full of mail in his neighborhood, to completing his shift during the Discord Fiasco in Ponyville, to traveling inter-dimensionally to deliver mail to the Spirit of Chaos himself, Booko had seen enough to put grays into even the toughest of young postal workers' manes: Mailboxes too small for even the standard letter, morning dew charged with electricity from Zap Apples, and inter-dimensional beasts with obscenely large mouths plagued his mind.

And that was before he had even reached his destination.

His mind still struggled to process what he had seen: nothing in any dimension should need that many razor-sharp teeth, nor should anypony be able to walk with their ears and mane, though that was nothing to say of the spiderponies...

And the Grappleglorp... A name truly befitting such a beast, Booko reasoned. Jagged claws jutted from the bottom of its bluish head-body, its elongated mouth reminding Booko of his cousin, Flappy Gums as it flopped about in flight. The beast's mouth drooled worse than an overstuffed raincloud, and its eyes bore into everything it saw, glancing in every direction simultaneously while its tongue probed the void in front of its flight path as though slurping from the endless miasma. Booko wondered briefly what the void tasted like, before the grappleglorp screeched, its namesake gurgling cry filling the mailpony with nervous prickles.

Booko suppressed a shudder, the claws of the Grappleglorp digging into his sides as Eldritch abominations, used soda cans, and that scone he swore he ate for lunch, with the hair right on the top careened past. His mailbag almost emptied, Booko straightened his cap as his captor soared towards an open portal with reckless abandon. Where it would lead, he had no clue. It could lead home, to Fillydelphia, or it could lead to a universe where everything was made of cheese. Would the Grappleglorp become a Muenster? Would he see his quaint front yard once more? And would he finish his shift on time?

Those queries and more filled Booko's head with wild theories, hopes, and fears. Remembering his oath to the mail service, taken in a back room of the city hall, administered by the greasy-faced janitor, Stamps straightened his uniform and held his bag close as the portal encompassed the pair. Swirling colors filled his sight as the empty pull of the void sped further and further away from Booko, his mind racing with the possibilities. Shaking, Booko recited his creed as a light blossomed in the distance, growing larger by the second.

"Neither rain, nor sleet, nor a random beat, will stop the E.P.S. from their duties." Booko recalled. "They'll be adding 'nor inter-dimensional abominations' when - or if - I return."

He was certain his tale would be legendary, talked about through generation and generation of mailpony, all to impart the crucial wisdom to never accept a delivery to the Spirit of Chaos. Discord had a P.O. box in Canterlot, though the carriers usually found it filled with nearly anything but mail—the Sour Cream Incident still burned at the memory of many a mailpony. Discord's ignorance left the lowly workers to draw straws over who would have to deliver dimensionally, and Stamps' time had finally come.

The world stopped spinning around him as the grappleglorp shot out of the portal, bright sunlight piercing his eyes, the duo crashing into a pond shortly after. Water filled his eyes and mouth, but his mailbag's waterproofing enchantment held steady. Catching the shore, Booko crawled to the grass, and breathed in the fresh air. Struggling to his hooves, he saw the grappleglorp struggling to breach, before sinking below the surface with a burble. In the far distance, the skyline of a city loomed through the midday haze. A collection of homes lined the lake Booko found himself near, their pristine lawns reminding him of the yards in suburban Fillydelphia. He straightened his uniform, adjusted his cap, checked the address on his next letter, and set off for the town.

There was but one problem.

Booko had no idea what city it was. At least— as the sign next to the lake had stated—no place in Equestria had the name 'Poughkeepsie' that he could remember. No matter, deliveries awaited, and the dimensional traveler found his duties calling. Mail shuffled around in his bags, the grass crunched under his hooves, and the sky glistened with the evening sun as he put the first address to memory. Certainly, somepony in town could point him in the direction of Canterlot. Its tall spires could be seen from a great distance, and Booko, with new-found strength, resolved to reach the capitol by sundown, lest his letters' recipients be without their daily post. The hardened mailpony would not back down now, and his face, set in steeled determination, reflected his intent.

And so, with bag in tow, Booko Stamps made for his next destination, bearing a new addition to his postal creed, and no regrets.

Though, he reasoned, a desk job sure wouldn't hurt any.

Author's Note:

A modified entry for the May Writeoff: I Regret Nothing, this sat in my list for a while. I finally mustered up the ideas to publish it to-site. I'd have loved to make this the original, but 562 words is too short for Fimfic ;_;

So, enjoy! Two in one day, wow!

Comments

[Protopony350]

I honestly like this version more than the original.

Was "Poughkeepsie" a reference to something? I only know one Poughkeepsie, but I doubt that's what you're referencing.

[Dash The Stampede]

6135637
I was thinking PP would see that and smile. He noted in his review it would have been crackpot awesome to have him end up in a random earth town, quoted " 'Poughkeepsie' or something " and the idea's stuck to me like fresh dough!

The fact that it still makes someone crack a grin is great :D I'm glad you agree with the updates for size, I feared I'd break the thin line the jokes could walk, but the readers' reactions are telling me otherwise! :V

[RustyKat]

his show name is Postage Stamp.

[Dash The Stampede]

6135977
Well, that's not going to catch on :V

Also, I wrote this the day after that one aired. BG characters' names just aren't that big a concern.

[Ri2]

Oh no, that poor grappleglorp! Will it be okay?

[Dash The Stampede]

6136402
Oh, don't worry bout him. He'll live to nip once more at the ankles of E.P.S. carriers.

Maybe.

Let's go with that.

[Ri2]

6137442 That's a relief!

[PresentPerfect]

6135656
Ahaha! :D

[PaulAsaran]

You can has review!

[Dash The Stampede]

10528666
Hey Paul, thanks for the kind review! Mostly surprised that folks are still enjoying my words long after putting down the pen

Hadn’t thought about how I barely touched on the mortal peril of his travels, was mostly in it for the comedic effect. The write-offs seemed to pull a lot of jank and some rare gems outta me and id think this falls in between :)