Grumpy Goat's Nightmare Night: a Grumpy Goat <tail> #4

by De Writer

Grumpy Goat's Nightmare Night: a Grumpy Goat <tail>

Grumpy Goat's Nightmare Night
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

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“I wants my revenge! You is gotta get me even with 'em!”

I steepled the modified gryphon claws that I was currently using where my forehooves would have been if I had a body as such. Or was alive, for that matter.

I lounged back in the only easy chair in my cave's front chamber and asked, “Really? Why in all of Equestria do I have to help you to get your revenge? To be specific, how much are you planning to pay me? As a secondary consideration, revenge on who and for what?”

The piebald pony, a ghastly (to my admittedly bad taste) mix of pink and yellow, tried to look anywhere but at the goat skull floating in the air where my head should be, and in fact, was. Perhaps it was the big predatory fangs, the glowing, snake-like eyes, or even the everburning candle between the curled goat horns that made him uncomfortable. If it was any or all of those, they were doing their job.

He spat out, “Gotta get even with that dang Caramel Treat! You knows, the Werewolf Pony that runs the sweets shop! She done throw me out and had the Watch on me! Judge Coldheart fine me and make me stay away from her or the shop! That's why you gotta get my revenge for me!”

I cocked my head in curiosity. “Cainbreak, old pony, you forgot the most important part of this deal. The MONEY. My help starts at 100 golden bits. Cash up front.”

“I'll pay you when it's done!”

“No, Cainbreak. Full payment. Cash up front. NO CREDIT!”

“My word is my bond!”

I snapped back, “A Junk Bond!”

“You call me a liar?”

“Yes.

“I saw the story in the Ponville Prancer. You tried to get a meal on your tab. Only problem was, you had no tab. You threatened to break her candy showcase. She turned to her Everfree Ridgeback Wolf form and pinned you down.

“When the Watch came, you tried to have HER arrested for defending her shop from your vandalism. Didn't work.

“You had no work then, and you have none now.”

“I will pay as soon as I gets work!”

“What part of NO credit is hard to understand, Cainbreak? The N or the O?”

For a non-material body, my spirit body is surprisingly strong. Caramel Treat was not the only one to throw him out. The slope below my cave entrance is mostly grassy but pretty steep. Cainbreak tumbled about thirty feet before coming to a stop. He got up swearing. At me. No problem. I am used to it.

It is simply amazing how many deadbeats there are. Cainbreak was far from the worst. The ones that I detest the most are the ones that try to tell me that “All you gotta do is say some mumbo-jumbo shit and wave a wand around.”

When asked why they don't do it themselves, they always say that they wouldn't be caught dead doing junk like that.

My reply is that that if they did try it that way they WOULD BE CAUGHT DEAD -- by the Litch King or one of his many minions.

Necromancy is not for the lazy or faint of heart. It is not safe. I am “living” proof. And I am dead. Sort of. The Litch King has a twisted sense of humor. To be fair, I did bungle the necromantic ritual that called him up. He could have just destroyed me. Instead, we sort of hit it off. As a result, I am still me in most of the important things. Sort of immortal, too.

My copy of the NECRONOMIPONY: Necromancy made Easy: a manual for beginners in the Art (Non-Equine University Press, For academic study only) contained a printer's error. Two important Pentacles (magical circles) were swapped. The mistake was covered in an Errata Sheet in the back of the book. I missed it.

The ritual involved resurrection of a corpse. Due to the swapped pentacles, the Litch King resurrected ME. Right after killing me, of course. He took my old corpse too. It actually has not been a bad deal, all things considered.

Back to Business. After Cainbreak, um . . . left, I got a couple of reasonable clients. Just the usual, want some particular pony to love them. (One was DEAD easy {joke there} because he already DID love her. She simply could not believe it without my “help.”)

Came Shopping day. I glamor spelled my spirit body to look like I used to, before the previously mentioned little fiasco, and wandered down the longish trail to town.

As I came to the outskirts of Ponyville, I was waylaid by Cainbreak who popped out of nowhere to say loudly and self-importantly, “”Member our deal! You gots to take down that Caramel Treat!”

He was figuring that I would not make a public scene out of it. WRONG. I spoke even louder than he did. “Why, Cainbreak! You found the money? WHAT PART OF NO CREDIT is hard to grasp? The part where CARAMEL TREAT says NO or the part where I say NO!?

“She and I are in complete agreement. No money, no service!”

He was starting to slink off when I called after him, “Isn't your RENT OVERDUE? There is a nice big wooden packing crate in Backer's Alley! It's FREE!”

Three disreputable ponies perked up their heads and trotted off. In the direction of Backer's Alley. Looked like Cainbreak was going to have competition for that crate.

Glancing about, I noticed that Nightmare Night decorations were going up all over the place. It was over a week away, too.

My first stop was Caramel Treat's Sweets. There was a monster Everfree Ridgeback Wolf rearing up at one end of her outdoor dining plaza. There was another similar wolf, smaller but still huge, at the opposite end of the plaza. A palomino mare was trotting between them, trailing a Nightmare Night streamer for them to put up.

I had to admire Caramel Treat. Born a Werewolf pony due to an attempt to murder her mother with a Poison Joke potion, Caramel had succeeded by making her problem widely known. Her shop was a tourist destination, especially at this time of year.

She and her mate Fangrin had a booming business with a well deserved reputation for top quality sweets and foods of all kinds. I sat at my usual table. The palomino mare saw me and called, “With you in sec, Grumpy! Helping with these decorations first!”

The huge Ridgeback Wolf dropped to all fours and stepped over to my table. Caramel Treat sat and changed slowly into a caramel tan mare. Seriously, she asked, “Did you really take a commission to harm us, Grumpy? Cainbreak has been spreading the story all over that you are, and I quote, Going to bring that werewolf and her mate down hard, end of quote.”

I looked up mildly and replied, “Caramel, how much service did he get from YOU on credit? None. You do know me. When he came to me he was full of I had to bring you down. He wanted his revenge and I had to do it!

“I pointed out that he was not even offering to pay. He then said that he would pay me when he got work. How likely is that, Caramel? No pay, I don't play. Wouldn't have touched my favorite shop in all of Ponyville anyway.”

I took the time to point to a sign that was a favorite for tourists to take pictures of. It read, “If you have a problem with any customer of mine, due to species, race or kind at all, please leave. If you try to cause any difficulty, WE BITE – HARD!” The words were flanked by a very well done portrait of Caramel on one side and Fangrin, her mate, on the other. In Wolf Form.

“Right there is why you are safe from me, Caramel. This is one of only three places in all of Ponyville where I am welcome, due to appearing like a goat. Like you, I am proud of what I am, or was, before that “little incident” with the Litch King.”

Caramel had the courtesy to giggle at that. She knows what I was and what I am.

“Thanks, Grumpy. That is about what I figured, but it is a load off my mind. I am still glad that Fangrin and I sheltered you from the mob, back when they burned your house.”

She snorted, “That was so ironic. You were taking mail order courses from the Non-Equine University in Equine Psychology. Going to be a psychologist.

“The Celestians found out about that one book, what was it?”

“The Necronomipony. It was a textbook for my abnormal psych class.”

“Yes, that was it. They pulled up an antigoat-mob and burned your place and all your books. You only saved that one. Those ponies were going to stone you to death, like too many others, when Fangrin found them attacking you. He called me. We ran them off and sheltered you.”

“Now, BECAUSE of what they did, you really are the Necromancer that they accused you of being.”

The palomino mare came up with a tray and set out a clover-top burger, onion rings and a thick Milkmaid of Trottingham ice-cream milkshake. I did say that I am a regular here.

“Thanks, Peanut Brittle. No, Caramel, I am not going to do anything to any of you guys. Cainbreak wanted me to go after the lot of you. On Credit!”

Peanut nearly dropped the empty tray, she was laughing so hard. “Credit? From YOU? Is he crazy?”

Caramel settled down from the giggles and then said, “Grumpy, the pay is terrible, but it ought to be fun. I have a job for you, if you want it.”

I raised my eyebrows as I looked up from my snack. “Really, Caramel? Who is it? What do you want done to them and what is this terrible pay?”

Caramel pointed a hoof at my snack. “The pay is simple. Open menu from 10 AM opening to 10 PM closing. You and Peanut split a tips box.

“Simply be here as Nightmare Day/Eve/Night cast. Be yourself, skull, candle, fangs and all! We will give you a robe to help define your body, and a big, warty club with a spike through it.

“If you have a spell that can spot prankers and other troublemakers, I would appreciate it.”

I leaned back, thinking through my repertoire of spells. “I accept, Caramel. I may invite a fiend, er, friend, if it is alright with you. He would be far better at spotting possible problems and dealing with them.”

“Who, Grumpy?”

I gestured at myself, “The same one that did this to me. Once he realized that I LIKED what he did to me, we have become friends, as much as any creature can be friends with him.”

“The Litch King!? Are you serious, Grumpy?”

It was Peanut Brittle who said thoughtfully, “Who better for Nightmare Night, Boss? We for sure can't get Nightmare Moon. I don't know about you, but I trust Grumpy. If he says that the Litch King will behave, I would bet that he will.

“What do you and the Litch King do, Grumpy?”

“Right now, Peanut? We are about half way through Daring Do and the Green Sapphire. He is coming to visit tomorrow. We plan to finish Green Sapphire and go on to The Darkling's Tomb. He loves Daring Do stories.”

I turned my most winning goat smile, with glamored in fangs, to Caramel. “Want me to ask?”

She reached across the table and booped my nose. She knows me and what she can get away with, which is a lot. She and Fangrin could have looked the other way and let me be murdered.

“Sure, Grumpy. If he will behave, I can't think of anything better for our Nightmare Night.”

I went on about my shopping. The stores don't like me but they love my gold. And silver. And don't even mind my copper.

Cainbreak waylaid me again as I was about to go up the mountain to my cave with its Iron front and door. You only have to have one mob burning your house and trying to murder you before you begin taking sensible precautions.

“You owes me a place to stay! That there crate was took!”

“Cainbreak, ol' homeless pony, if you had gone for it when I let you know about it, you'd have it now. You hung about. They did not. It is that simple. Almost as simple as you.”

“That ain't fair! You done shout it out! That mean you gotta put me up!”

“No. Cainbreak, if you don't go away, I shall do something for free. I will charge you to undo it, if you are still alive to ask.”

“I dares you! Do your worst! You doesn't really do nothing anyway! They just gots to believe that you done something for it can happen! Priest Sunshine done say so!”

“Oh, indeed? Tell me, have they ever got the poison ivy to stop growing up their church and rectory walls? They must believe in me!”

We came to the foot of the mountain. “Cainbreak, this is where we part company. Go away. If you need shelter, there is a work house. Oh, that's right. Work. You don't want to. Not my problem.”

I turned to my normal self, the invisible spirit body, minus the floating goat skull. I glamored invisibility on my saddlebags of supplies too. I trotted on up the trail. Cainbreak made a halfhearted attempt to follow. That was when he sorted out that parts of the trail's drop off were deadly steep and I was invisible.

He got. I had not waited. I went in and barred the door behind me. I picked my skull up off its stand and put it on. The everburning candle between the horns gave me a nice light to put away my week's supplies.

I was not alone. I knew that but did not mind at all. It sounds wrong but the Litch King is always a considerate guest.

He said, “Did I hear it right, Grumpy? I was sort of keeping tabs on you because I really do not have many friends. I thought that I heard an invitation to a Nightmare Night celebration.”

I grinned at his obvious eagerness. Truthfully, the Litch King did not have much of a social life. Can't imagine why! I replied, “You heard right, L.K. I told Caramel Treat and Fangrin that I would ask you if you wanted to come along. No real sorcery in this at all. We do want to help them to spot and stop pranksters and other disruptive sorts but that is it.

“We will be acting cast for the amusement of foals and, likely, some tourists. It is a near certainty that the Celestian Priests will show up but we are not supposed to do anything serious to them.“

“We get an open food and drink tab. We are supposed to share a tip box with Peanut Brittle, who will be in costume as a witch-pony. I won't take any though.

“Thanks to you, I am pretty well off. Peanut works hard for her bits and she nursed me after that mob tried to stone me.”

Seriously, the Litch King replied, “These are true friends of yours, are they not?”

“They are indeed. The best that I have. I do want to help them.”

He nodded his skull. “Then I will do it for you. My word on it to behave properly as ponies understand such things.”

I nodded agreeably. “Good enough for me, LK. Shall we get back the the Green Sapphire?

It is always amusing to watch the Litch King getting ready to listen to the story. I mean, he is a skeleton Alicorn. All bones, but he sort of curls up, settling his bones and wing bones for best comfort on my carpet. I picked up the book from my reading stand and settled into my easy chair and opened the Green Sapphire at our marked place.

“Daring Do hid in the shadow of a pillar as the Temple guards trooped past. She waited a little longer to be sure that her way was clear. She was just entering the colonnade when . . .”

We were interrupted by a pounding on my Iron clad door. “Open up, Goat! We know that you are in there!”

Celestian Priests. Had to be. Only they were so arrogant and with so little cause. Celestia herself has denounced them. Must be rough being a priest when your “Goddess” writes and publishes articles calling your beliefs a worthless cult.

I set forged iron stop-latches before cracking the door open. It bounced hard against the latches.

A voice belonging to one of the three priests out there demanded, “Let us in! You must remove your evil curse on our church grounds!”

I retorted, “No to both! I let you in, when I lived down in Ponyville! You returned my courtesy by burning my house down and trying to murder me!

“As for any curse, I could not lift one. According to both your counseling and PUBLISHED statements, NO CURSE OF MINE HAS ANY REALITY. No reality, nothing to remove!

“What, in particular, is the problem?” In the back chamber of the cave, I could hear the Litch King chuckling.

There was another shoulder impact on the door.

“Rude. And useless. That door was designed by a reputable firm of Military Engineers. It is made to withstand a standard Equestrian Military battering ram. You are not going to force it.”

“You have to take the curse off of our church and grounds!”

Whistling cheerfully, I paused and asked, “What curse? If your religion was real, there could be no curse on your holy place. Therefore, there is no curse or Celestia herself is right and you are a pack of frauds.” This was just getting better and better. “Want to see her latest broadside at you? I have the latest Prancer right here. Lovely article!”

I heard a nearly strangled yell of “Blasphemy!”

After I stopped laughing, I pointed out, ”You just accused CELESTIA of Blasphemy! I thought that you ponies worshiped her as a Goddess.

“Just admit, in writing that YOU, AS PRIESTS, are hiring ME, A NECROMANCER, to remove the curse on your church and grounds. Specifically, all that itch causing poison oak and poison ivy.

“The fee will be five hundred golden bits. Cash paid in advance.”

The priest snapped, “You only charge a hundred golden bits for a working!”

“Not true. My fees START at one hundred. This is obviously a very difficult thing to do. You should have simply hired a professional gardener to cut and remove the offending plants. Alternatively, you should simply exorcise the curse yourselves.”

Unwisely, he snarled in return, “We have tried both. Neither one worked.”

“Oh dear! You couldn't? The gardeners couldn't? That is a five hundred golden bit job for sure!”

I heard an unctuous voice replace the other one. “We will be happy to pay the full amount. We will then give you a receipt for your donation to our worthy church for the sum.”

“I am afraid that you did not hear clearly, Mister Local High Priest Hortimer. Cash. Up front. One payment. NO REFUNDS unless the terms of the agreement are not met. NO DONATION TO THE VILE FANATICS WHO DESTROYED MY HOME, MY SCHOOLING, AND TRIED TO MURDER ME!

“All clear? I do not care one tiny bit whether you like it. Those are the terms and the only terms.”

I started to push the door shut. One, with an amazing lack of wisdom, tried to insert a hoof. The iron door was designed for sieges. The forged stop-catches had a lever to close the door without releasing it at all. It was a long lever.

As I leaned into the lever the last thing that I heard, while the door was closing, was the sweet sound of Priestly swearing.

The Litch King and I got back into the Daring Do book.

We were interrupted in our Daring Do reading fest a few times by clients wanting me to do particular workings. Lust. Injury. Ruin. Gain. Routine. And profitable.

We decided to simply walk down to Ponyville on the big day. I was wearing my skull, complete with candle, fangs, glowing snake type eyes and horns.

The Litch King ambled alongside me, bare bones gleaming in the the brilliant light of Celestia's sun. If there was any truth at all to the Celestian Church teachings, he should have simply fallen apart and been totally dispelled, a mere pile of moldering bones. He wasn't.

In fact, we had a bird watcher's guide out and were pointing out the assorted birds along the trail. Our watching list was actually going well.

When we arrived in Ponyville, it got amusing. Several ponies complimented us on our disguises. To which, with real grins, we always responded with the truth.

“What disguises?”

Caramel Treat greeted us with delight. “Grumpy! Clarence! I am so glad that you could make it. Clarence, do you like the kinds of things on our menu? Grumpy forgot to tell us that.”

I had briefed both LK and Caramel about calling LK Clarence for the duration of the gig. They had my robe and big club with a huge spike through it. It was delightful.

Peanut Brittle's witch costume, pointy hat and all, was seriously cute. Especially with Peanut inside it.

Caramel and Fangrin were themselves. As wolves.

We all made a great looking cast.

Peanut brought me a Clover top burger, shake and onion rings to start things off. She made a show of taking Clarence's order, calling him, “Your Majesty, the Litch King!” There were already tourists making pictures.

Livening things up, we had a stringer from the Ponyville Prancer who was going to cover the whole Nightmare Night festivity at Caramel Treat's Sweets. They had heard that the cast was going to be unusual.

“Clarence” thoughtfully asked Caramel, “As you wish some security work, may I assume that the treat bowl there for the foals is presently safe and not already contaminated by pranksters?”

Caramel, before answering, slunk over to the Foal Bowl and took a large, drawn out sniff of the contents. Then she turned a big, shaggy head towards the Litch King. “Yes, Clarence, it is presently safe.”

She turned to Peanut and said, “Hon, would you please get Clarence one each of the Foal Bowl treats? He is setting up security for us and wants comparison samples.”

Peanut tipped her Witch's hat as she passed the Litch King. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

She returned in moments with the neatly wrapped candies. Clarence first examined each candy for how it was wrapped and then carefully unwrapped each one and sampled it. Should have fallen out of his bare bones. It did not. It did vanish.

The Prancer's reporter got some pictures. Clarence's bones showed just fine. So did things behind him.

She came over to me and asked, “Um, not asking for some sort of necromantic secret, but how did you manage to make that costume for Clarence, the Litch King, there?”

I nodded cheerfully and replied, “What costume? That is Clarence.” Then I gave her a cheerful smile and added, “Technically, that is not a costume. It is called a Glamor Spell. They are mostly pretty simple to do and create an appearance that IS real, even though what it is cast on remains what it was and is not actually affected by it.

“A spell like that one will only last as long as I set it for. It can be as short as an hour or last a lifetime.”

I saw her taking notes and was pleased. I was surprised by her request, though. “I am a cub reporter paid by published story inches in the Prancer. I am so handsomely paid that I could not afford a costume for Nightmare Night. What would you charge to give me one that will go away at the end of the celebration? I would like to fit in better.”

I nodded at that. “Tell you what. Clarence and I are doing this as a gift to good friends. Our pay is an open tab on their excellent goodies. I always get paid for my spells. That is a hard rule. The AMOUNT is up to me. Got a copper bit?”

She had to fish in her saddle bag to find one, but she did. She sort of sadly said to it, “Good bye, little friend.” Looking around at the rest of us, she happily asked, “What will this copper buy me in the way of an appearance?”

“Who or what would you like to be?”

Sort of giggling at the thought, she replied, “What about one of those Celestian Serpent Pony demons?”

Proving just how sharp her hearing is, Caramel Treat replied, “For that one, I will pay your copper! Join our cast, here and get your story from the Inside! Pay is an Open Tab and a share of the tip box with Peanut, Grumpy and Clarence! We already have over a hundred in silver and copper in it!”

Eyes lighting, the scaly half unicorn half serpent horror with fangs and claws,ready to rend the souls of the damned, exclaimed, “I am so in! Inside scoop! When are you going to do it, Grumpy?”

A delighted Peanut brought her an alfalfa steak and a mirror. “Welcome to our Nightmare Night, Romaine! This is the first installment of your pay!”

Just as Romaine was sitting to eat, a voice from the street called out, “Blasphemy! This whole place is an abomination!”

Beating me to the punch, Romaine got up and sauntered over to the Celestian Priest. She was grinning. Big fangs. She said, “May I quote you, Hortimer? I mean, technically you are committing a criminal act just being here at all. Judge Coldheart did issue that Order of Protection against your church and all of its personnel. Cainbreak's attempt at vandalism here was proved to be as a result of promises to pay him for it.”

Rubbing salt into the wound, nice and deep, she added, “You never paid him, either.”

I just had to join the fun. “So, Horty, old pony, how are you GOOD PONIES managing with that infestation of poison ivy on your buildings and the poison oak sprouting all through your grounds and hedges? Got enough itches to go around?”

He drew himself up to his full height and tried to glare down his nose at me. I looked right back. With a big giggle.

“Vile Necromancer! You must lift your evil spell on us!”

Pretending total puzzlement, I replied, “How could I? My magics are all lies, delusion, and falsehood. Here, just in case you have forgotten it, I have one of your street corner salvation tracts right here and it says so in black and white.” I proffered the tract.

Local High Priest Hortimer nearly blew a gasket. It is totally unfair to use their own propaganda pieces against them, apparently.

I serenely went on, “Of course, if you wish, we can make a contract for the de-infestation of your buildings and grounds of the PERFECTLY NATURAL but unpleasant growths. It will be the same results oriented contract that you have had followers of yours challenge in court.

“Judge Coldheart has upheld my contract all nine times, so far. If you sign, and the results specified happen, regardless of cause, you pay. More precisely, I keep the cash that you have paid in advance.”

Hortimer snarled, “You brought about our misfortune! You must undo it!”

I giggled. “You really don't believe anything, do you? I mean, you tell ponies all around here that I have managed to curse your holy place with poison ivy and poison oak. At the same time, you are saying that I can not possibly curse anything or place at all. It is all lies, delusion, and falsehood. Just wave the Holy Truth at it! It should all wither away!

“Or sign my contract, pay me my five hundred golden bits and let something happen to it. That could easily happen.”

Actually, it couldn't. While we were talking, three of Ponyville's finest, in their best uniforms, bracketed Hortimer.

“Sir, we must inform you that you are under arrest for the violation of Judge Coldheart's Protective Order.” Ignoring his protests, they efficiently manacled him and took him away.

Peanut Brittle was standing near the MagicNet communication mirror, looking all innocent.

Romaine noticed it too. And made notes for her story. The scaly horror that she appeared to be, now asked me quietly, “Was that bit about the Celestian Church being infested with poison ivy and poison oak on the level?”

“Yep!”

“Did you do it?”

In a voice of hurt innocence, I replied, “I couldn't have had anything to do with it. Here is their own literature that says so absolutely.” I hoofed her the tract.

With a delighted grin that was all teeth, Romaine almost sprinted for the MagicNet mirror. She spent about ten minutes going over details, including Hortimer's arrest.

She returned to find that Peanut was guarding her steak for her. Romaine exclaimed delightedly, “Scoop! They were keeping that business a secret! Really embarrassing. And I got the byline! I still get this story too! Inches galore!” I remembered that she was paid by the published story inches in the Prancer.

I heard a small altercation near the Foal Bowl of candies. The Litch King was blocking a grown pony from it. Silent as ghosts, both Caramel and Fangrin were closing in. I pointed it out to Romaine. She started getting pictures.

I saw Peanut back by the mirror, making a call. That grown pony, not being allowed to leave, was Cainbreak. He was another pony listed in Judge Coldheart's Protective Order. As I watched the police remove him, I was wondering if or how the night could get any better.

Moonrise answered that. Nice and dark. A rising orange glow. Centered on my mountain, the moon came to view, not even diminished by the veils of thin clouds that caught the light and made a glory of the eastern sky.

Caramel and Fangrin leading, we the cast, and many other ponies who came to the shop for Nightmare Night fun joined into a wondrous howling. The Litch King's howl was a lovely baritone.

Romaine and Peanut had beautiful sopranos.

Clarence, the Litch King, had a great time too. Who would have expected that he would enjoy handing out candies so?

Peanut and Roamine's expressions of delight when the Litch King and I left them the entire tip box was a great capper. They got almost a thousand bits

It was as close to perfect as a night could get.

--THE END--

Author's Note:

The Grumpy Goat <tails> and stories of the Rom, all deal with the underside of the sweet pony society that we see in the shows.

Every society has bottom rungs. In my canon, those bottom rungs are goats, donkeys, and the Rom who are almost all unicorns the size and conformation of the horses that they are descended from.

Many of my stories are told from that viewpoint.