6. Crushin’ It
Buggy and the Beast
Crushin’ It
The sound of the hoof hammering on Beet Salad's apartment door was considerably restrained this evening, raising the possibility of his friend the pest pony being ready for another night of pest patrol with a can of bug spray already prepared, just in case work was going to start early tonight. Beets squinted across the room at the locked door, using his magic to undo the locks and security chain with a tremendous yawn and a call of, “Come on in, Nek. Door’s open.”
The pony stepping into the open doorway was not Nectarine, though. The scruffy earth pony in the night watchpony cap peered into the darkened apartment and squinted, which made the warm changeling under the sheets to Beets’ side shift drowsily in the beam of light shining into the room from outside.
“Beets! The boss wants everypony on deck early this evening. There's been talk about changeling sightings, and the Royal Guard has a chunk of the pallet piles staked out with evidence tape and a bunch of forensic unicorns. The whole town is all riled up like a nest of bees because they said there was a changeling right there a few days ago! We could be invaded next! They could be anywhere!”
As the singular potential upcoming invasion was on hold due to injuries, and ‘anywhere’ just happened to be ‘directly beside’ to Beets, he attempted to withhold comments until his first cup of coffee. He slipped one leg out from under the sheets without exposing any insectile bits of his fellow bed-occupant to Spindle, who was standing in the doorway with a curious expression. After a quick check to make sure the changeling was covered up, Beets managed to put one hoof onto the living room linoleum floor and give a broad yawn.
A yawn which stopped abruptly with a glance at his alarm clock.
“Four o’clock!” It only took a moment for Beets to finish tossing the sheets to one side and roll out onto the apartment floor, after which he began to stalk up to his unwelcome coworker, one deliberate step at a time. “Spindle, there had better be overtime for getting me up at this ungodly hour of the afternoon.”
“Yeah, right,” said Spindle, obviously distracted by something behind Beets, or more properly, someling. “Sorry to break up you and your…” The night watchpony stopped, obviously trying to match ‘marefriend’ to ‘Beet Salad’ and coming up with a null set.
“Oh, lovercolt?” called out a voice made up of half estrogen and half desire, blended with a topping of early morning passion cut short. “You don't mind if I stay here in bed, do you? After all, you paid for all day, and I don't think I can close my legs to walk back home for a few hours.”
The changeling added to her errotic performance by a very cat-like purr from under the covers of the shadowed pull-down bed, which turned the tips of Beets' ears from pink to a near-florescent red, made only worse by the disbelieving look he gathered from Spindle.
“You got a mare?”
He shoved his fellow employee out the apartment door, grabbing his work equipment and locking the door behind him with a growing desire to hit somepony. Hard. Spindle was right at the top of the list, and Beets glowered at him once the door was securely locked. “What!”
“Nothing!” responded Spindle. “It’s just… I noticed you brushed your teeth.”
“So?” Beets fixed his coworker with a vicious glare, which seemed to just roll off with a shrug and a shake of his head.
“If I knew getting you a hooker would get you to brush your teeth, the colts at work would have chipped in and bought you one a long time ago. Being around you during staff meetings sucked, bigtime.”
* ♥ *
As it turned out, Beet Salad and Spindle barely managed to make it back to the docks before the crowds began to gather outside on the streets. Upset mares and stallions carried signs reading ‘Changelings Out of Equestria’ and 'Stomp The Bugs’ while milling around rather aimlessly outside the Port Authority gate, as if waving a sign would somehow cause changelings to flee in terror. There was not a lot of enthusiasm in their protests, which Beets could understand. After all, if they had somehow expected to encounter changelings at the docks, he really doubted the vast majority of the ‘protesters’ would have even showed up, although there was a much rougher crowd starting to appear once the sun went down.
There were Royal Guards on the docks, but they kept to themselves in a small knot of isolated stallions over by the pallet pile. They seemed determined to ignore the growing groups of civilians outside the gates, while watching a few small splatters of old green ichor and some broken pallets to make sure they did not escape and try to overthrow Celestia.
The unfairness of the situation grated on Beets as he stood with the rest of the night watchponies and staff for several hours. There were a few thousand places he would much rather be, but it was far more uncomfortable to think about the ponies shouting and cursing at him. As much as he wanted to just think of most of them as rioters, there was a little thread of sympathy for their position. Changelings were strange, odd creatures who were just alien in ways unlike any other intelligent races of Equestria. Ponies liked the normal, the plain, the expected.
As the night grew darker, the crowd swelled. His careful observations of the legitimate protesters showed their numbers dwindling away as the more rough and tumble elements of the area came out of hiding. Beets really did not expect a riot, because riots were fueled by the prospect of loot, and even the smallest ships at the docks had kept enough sailors on board to make any looter’s life a painful one. Still, the air among the gathered ponies was tense, with chants and shouted insults that really made Beets hope the municipal police would get off their doughnut-fueled flanks and do something.
It was a forlorn hope. Although the average Baltimare police officer during the day appeared to be a stalwart defender of the populace, the night crew around the docks was cut out of considerably rougher cloth. In fact, Beets thought he could recognize a few of the less-reputable cops out in the crowd in what could have been considered an undercover operation to keep an eye on potential rioters but was more likely an attempt to be where the best looting would occur.
All the dockworkers really needed to do was to stand in place and look tough until morning or whenever the shouting ponies decided to go find another source of entertainment, and his blood ran cold at the thought of what would happen if they actually did find an unfortunate changeling somewhere. Particularly one who was injured and could not run away.
Which was just when he noticed the flaming bottle of fuel lofted over the crowd and headed in his direction.
Nearly all of the dockworkers were earth ponies, who scattered in all directions while screaming, but Beet Salad felt a raging fire burst into life in his chest. He reached out with his magic to catch the falling bottle before it could break, held it in front of him, and bellowed out into the suddenly-quiet night.
“Who threw this bottle?!”
He glared at the stunned crowd while striding in their direction, still holding the burning bottle in his magic. Somewhere above his head, he could hear a large pegasus-drawn wagon of some sort coming to a landing in the central dock area, probably full of mealy-mouthed Filleydelphia politicians who would be giving orders to allow the mob ‘breathing space’ and not to ‘antagonize’ anypony. Beets strode forward anyway, glaring out into the startled crowd as he used a voice amplification spell to add, “I said, who threw this BOTTLE?”
Now that he was closer to the crowd, he could see several familiar faces, many of which bore a scar or two from previous meetings with the ugly unicorn bearing a bright pink tail. Words were exchanged between the members of the crowd, and various rough-hewn ponies faded back into the shadows as he walked forward. One mauve unicorn with his mane tied up in little square knots and a series of anarchist symbols written across his coat did not seem to get the message, or even notice as his two companions exchanged glances and backed away from both him and the two bottles of fuel he was busy stuffing wicks into.
“YOU!” bellowed Beets as he strode closer, still carrying the burning bottle even though the wick was guttering and almost extinguished. “What in Tartarus do you think you were doing?”
“Buck off, creep!” The scrawny unicorn looked up with a sneer which slowly faded away as he realized how large the open space around him had grown. “Buck off!” he repeated, his horn glowing as he pulled out a knife and held it in front of him with his magic. “Buck off or I’ll cut—”
Beets did not even break stride as he reached out with his magic and pulled, not at the knife, but at the young punk’s flame-red tail. The unicorn teenager swapped ends abruptly, giving out a sharp cry of alarm as Beets yanked his tail straight up, and a screech of pain as Beets found a place to stick the bottle he had been carrying. The knife clattered to the ground as the teenager fell down, clutching his belly and whimpering, and the clear space around Beet Salad abruptly grew as nearly all of the ponies in his vicinity held their tails tightly down to their rears and took a step or two backwards.
“Who’s next?” he bellowed, picking up a clean bottle from the young punk’s stash and looking for volunteers. There were fewer ponies looking in his direction than he expected, as most of them were actually looking behind Beets, which puzzled him until a loud tenor voice boomed out over the crowd.
“Citizens of Equestria. Please disperse to your homes. There are no changelings on the docks.”
“Shining Armor!” The startled cry of recognition spread across the watching ponies, matched by Beet Salad as he quickly put down the glass bottle he was holding, just in case. The prince was everything Beets expected and more, far more impressive than the pictures in the newspaper articles had made him look. There was a certain air of command in the way he snapped at the cringing crowd, stating in quite specific detail just why they were wrong to be here, at this time of night, and threatening violence to the innocent ponies who worked at the docks. The sound of bottles and bricks falling to the street as he talked filled an attentive silence that only grew as he continued to excoriate the prospective rioters. The prince even used his magic to cast a changeling detection spell over the crowd to prove the absence of any insectile infiltrators, and admonished the avidly watching ponies about their quick rush to judgement and their lack of civil order.
His speech was so fascinating to Beet Salad that it took a while to realize most of the onlooking ponies were paying it no attention at all. Instead, they were looking past the newly-crowned prince at the very familiar Princess of Love sitting quietly in the Royal Chariot behind him. She was not saying anything, or acting in any dramatic fashion at all, but just resting as if she had all the time in the world.
While peeling a banana.
One small slip of yellow peel at a time, the banana was ever so carefully being stripped of its covering as the ponies in the crowd watched. As she peeled, Princess mi Amore Cadenza looked back at the crowd from under hooded eyelids. There was not a single pony in attendance who did not know of her marriage a few days ago to Shining Armor, the handsome unicorn dressed in his shining golden armor with a few bent hairs on the helmet crest and scuff marks indicating it had been put on in a hurry after not being used for the last few days of their honeymoon.
Pony eyes traveled from the handsome unicorn prince, looking justifiably angry at being pried out of his well-deserved honeymoon, to the beautiful alicorn princess, just sitting in the chariot while peeling a banana. Back and forth, with each repetition bringing renewed sincerity among the crowd to maintain a law-abiding lifestyle from now on and a deep and sincere regret for spoiling what must have been an impressive honeymoon evening to have gone on for this many days and still leave a passionate princess wanting more.
The Princess of Love had just finished the banana with slow, sultry bites when Shining Armor ended his diatribe, turned with a distinctive dismissive gesture, and strode back to the chariot, which took off almost immediately afterwards.
There was a very long silence among the watching ponies.
Then the considerably chastised potential rioters began to slip away into the night, with two of the former bottle-throwers actually coming up to Beet Salad to apologize before hefting their friend on their backs and taking him to the hospital. Beets strolled back to the watching watchponies, tossed the bottles and discarded banana skin into a nearby trash can, and stalked into the dark docks to finish his shift.
* ♥ *
The sun had just barely tipped over the horizon by the time Beets and his friend clocked out from work and began walking home, with Nectarine nearly dancing in excitement.
“You gotta admit, that was awesome,” he gushed. “Princess Cadenza, in the pretty pink person.” He lowered his voice, looking around. “I saved the banana peel.”
Beets glared at his friend. “What, you dove into the trash can just because a princess threw away a fruit peel? I'd hate to see what you’d do if she took a dump.”
“Laugh it up, Beets,” sniffed Nectarine, putting his nose in the air. “There were five of us fighting over the peel. I got most of it. And with the weekend coming up, I plan on using it to best advantage.”
Rolling his eyes, Beets asked, “So which one of your conquests gets the peel?”
“All of them, of course.” Nectarine preened a wing briefly, still giving little hops and wriggles of joy which made him look far too much like an excited colt with a comic book. “So, what are your plans for the weekend, Beets?”
“Nothing much. Just sitting around the house, nursing a sick ant.”
Nectarine stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and gave a sideways glance at his friend. “How long have you been saving that one up?”
“Saving what one up?" Beets returned Nectarine’s golden gaze with his own mismatched blue-eyed guileless expression until they both returned to their walk home. The changeling was not in the living room when Beets opened the door, and for a moment he thought it had escaped out into the city, or at least until he heard the sound of water from the bathroom. She was walking in small steps intermixed with winces of pain as she stepped into the living room, looked at the two of them at the door, and hobbled the rest of the way to the pull-down bed, where she collapsed with a groan.
“Hi, honey. I'm home,” caroled Nectarine with a grin. “You’ll never guess who we met at work tonight.”
The changeling sniffed the air and looked back at the exuberant nocturne with one eyebrow ridge raised. “Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Shining Armor? Seriously, you smell like you've been screwing in honeysuckle and rose petals.” She took another sniff. “And bananas?”
“Really?” Nectarine looked over at Beet Salad with an evaluating expression. “So—”
“Sauerkraut,” said the changeling with her eyes closed as she bit on her bottom lip. “That and a hint of crushed catnip. Although when he's sleeping, it's more like freshly-mown crabgrass. Oh, eggshells. My hip hurts like heck. I even took an extra pill, and it isn't helping.” She opened one teal eye and glared at the two stallions in the doorway.
“Getting turned over to the police won't help you much there,” said Nectarine. “When I got picked up on my drunk and disorderly, they wouldn't even give me an aspirin. Had a stallion in the drunk tank next cell over with a busted leg, and they didn't even get a doctor until his lawyer threw a fit.”
“Horseapples. I really need to have my hip looked at by somebody who knows what they’re doing.” The changeling took a long, dry look at Beets. “You don't think the vet you were talking about before would notice, do you? I’ll even let you put me in a muzzle and a leash. Arf!”
“I always thought you were a little bitch,” muttered Beets. “No, we need a doctor. You need a doctor. Somepony who won’t throw a fit about treating a changeling and will keep their mouth closed about it later.”
"Somepony who knows what they're doing would help," said the changeling in a tone of voice which had Beets and Nectarine both perking up their ears.
“That sounded suspiciously specific,” said Nectarine.
“Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret this,” said Beets. “Who?”
* ♥ *
“I can't believe this is working,” muttered the heap of blankets in the checker cab behind Beet Salad as he trotted down the street. “Ponies are idiots.”
“Yeah,” agreed Beets, not slowing his pace in the least as the ‘borrowed’ cab clattered down the street behind him. “Mares in particular. I can't believe at least one of Nectarine’s marefriends hasn’t gelded him yet.” He got the distinct feeling the changeling under the blankets behind him agreed, and would even be willing to loan a dull knife or sharp spoon for the project, but no further words were forthcoming until quite a few streets later.
“Right at the next intersection, then right into the underground parking,” said the changeling, still huddled under the blankets. “And try not to hit so many potholes.”
“Can't help it,” said Beets. "Some emotion-sucking insect down in Town Hall probably planted them in the middle of the night.” After making the turn as directed, he slowed and turned into a large underground parking lot of the Midland Medical Center, eventually backing his borrowed cab into a open slot next to a back staircase. “Remember, we need to get the cab back to Nectarine in an hour or two, or he turns back into a pumpkin.”
“You mean before his marefriend the cabby notices it’s gone.” The changeling eased out of the seat and down onto the concrete floor of the quiet parking garage with the blanket still draped over her back. She held a hoof over the touchpad while punching in the access code, but stopped at the bottom of the staircase after they passed through the thick door. “Crap. Stairs. I didn't think this through.”
“Shut up,” muttered Beet Salad, as the echoes in the hollow stairwell mangled his words into near unrecognizability. The soft blue of his magic surrounded the injured changeling, floating her up into the air as Beets started to climb. “What floor?”
“Twelfth. He’s got a balcony landing for our pegasi disguises so we don't have to go through the waiting room.” The changeling wriggled around in Beet Salad’s magic to look back at him. “You don't have to do this, you know. You could have just thrown me to the cops.”
“Shut up.”
Beets climbed without any further commentary as the changeling shifted positions uncomfortably. Around the halfway mark, she flicked her tail back into Beets’ face. “Stop looking up my plot.”
“Can’t help it,” he muttered. “It’s such a huge target.”
She tucked her tail back flat against her rear for another few flights of stairs before lifting it back up again, only higher. “Go ahead and stare. It’ll take my mind off the surroundings.”
“What, you don't like being around sick ponies? They taste bad or something?”
“Something.” She whisked her tail around for a while before tucking it against her rump again. “Sick and injured changelings are just killed when it would take more love to fix them than they’ll be able to contribute afterwards. You should have let me die.”
“Don’t like it when other ponies tell me what to do,” grunted Beets as he climbed, eventually reaching the top floor and a steel door labelled ‘Bonebreaker and Associates - Orthopedic Medicine’ in sharp black letters.
“The door opens up into the clinic,” explained the changeling. "Boney is probably in his office this early, catching up on paperwork. He’s a masochist. Really. Likes being tied up and stuff.” The changeling eyed Beet Salad and held up a purple shellac-painted limb. “The two of you should get along fine.”
“Funny bug,” grunted Beets. “Wait here.”
The hallways of the doctor's office were quiet, but brightly lit, making Beets feel a little like a misplaced burglar as he walked along, looking for the right door. The scent of antiseptic and sterile floor wax brought uncomfortable thoughts to mind and a crushing sense of dread to his chest, but he put the thoughts of his departed family behind him as he walked with quiet steps until he found what he was looking for. Tapping gently on a door labelled ‘Dr. Bonebreaker M.D.’ Beets peeked inside and addressed the stocky unicorn inside as politely as he was able. "Excuse me, doctor."
“We're not open ye—” The doctor looked up and his green eyes behind a set of thick glasses got considerably larger. "Good heavens! You should have come to me sooner, sir. My schedule this morning is fairly light, so I think we can get you in for an appointment and set up for treatments, but—”
“Not me, doctor. I've got… Well, she’s… out in the back hallway,” Beets finished weakly.
Following the doctor as he strode away, Beets chewed on his bottom lip and fumed. It really was not his fault his face looked the way it did. It was the fault of a whole lot of other ponies, each of whom had collected a somewhat larger dose of the violence he had absorbed. There was really no reason to spend the bits on making his outsides any prettier since his insides were a pretty vile place, and all it would be doing is gilding a rotten flower.
His musing was cut off as the doctor opened the back stairwell door, paused…
And turned around, firing a stun spell right into Beet Salad's face.
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And there goes Shining Armor and Princess Mi Amore Cadenza's cameo. Gee, it's too bad we won't see them again in the story, but at least Nek got the banana peel.
FYI: The scene with Fire Brand is a direct result of my frustration at watching news footage about 'protesters' that invariably includes one or more of his ilk, and my opinion on what really needs to happen with the bottle full of gasoline they are throwing.
Oh, and the throwaway line about her having Beets take her to the vet in a leash prompted another story idea, Trixie and her Amazing Pet Changeling, where Trixie and a changeling wind up forming a trained animal act to keep out of jail (He's a Northern Shortear feral changeling. Quite dumb, but trainable. Honest.) and the end result works out for the both of them (love and bits). Expect it in about six months, which is fairly average for me.)
why the cliff hangers whyyyyyy
Whyyyyy?!?!?!
My worst enemy, cliffhangers.
6969959 Oh Trixie trying to treat a changeling? Oh poor sod. :D
Also, I forgot to ask this before, but your jolly changeling lady have a tendency to refer our brave hero as someone who came out of a soft shell. So changelings lay hard-shelled eggs? Aren't bug eggs kinda soft?
I have a feeling that the stun spell won't work as well as the doctor might expect.
6970012 Cause there are 14 chapters left. Just maybe.
awesome.
thats all to say
OK holy Jesus man. I was kidding xD
6969959
Feral changeling? Awesome. Wonder if changelings can transform into those two headed dogs . . .
6969959
Something along those general lines has been done, and done quite well --> The Braggart and the Bug
6970487 And the sequel, Back To The Swarm. Who could forget Leech, the bearer of bad karma and single digit IQ paired with our favorite egomaniac. Love both of those stories.
The foreseeable future, as far as I can see:
"That was a poor idea."
"Oh. I envisioned that going better."
"I'm sure you did."
And cue 'oh I just panicked because even though you specifically brought an injured changeling to me I thought you somehow didn't realize she was a changeling so I tried to stun you and got my ass beat'
...too late...
...if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go vomit everything anything has ever eaten since the dawn of time.
Okay I'm loving this story can't wait for the next chapter. And good news I'm putting this story into my favs as well. have a good day and I will read you tomorrow
-BFBL
"How about a magic trick? I'm gonna make this molotov disappear! *SQUISH* TAADAA!!! It's...it's gone!"
You know how certain maimings and mutilations have proper names (cf. Glasgow Smile, Columbian Necktie)? I wonder if this little stunt should be called a "Lyra Cupholder"?
Gotta wonder whether this doctor is actually a changeling. Might explain why he tried to stun Beets.
6969959
I'm confused. Did the wannabe-Molotov get shoved up Fire Brand's ass or not?
6971098
He picked up a fresh, unlit bottle afterwards:
"“Who’s next?” he bellowed, picking up a clean bottle from the young punk’s stash and looking for volunteers."
Y'all need Sam Vimes.
6971098 Read again, he picked up another bottle afterwards.
Well, that's an effective suppository.
6970731
...
....oh my gosh.
I just.
......it just clicked.
NO.
NONONO
6971314 6970731 Oh, come on, you two. I write Nek's dialogue, and even I'm not that perverted. He's going to use the peel to gain nookie points with his collection of romantic interests, much like having something that once belonged to Elvis. After all, Cadence is the Princess of Luuuuve.
6971226 I have to share a paraphrased quote from the editors:
Judge: You rammed a bottle up his bum!
Beets: It was a kerosene enema. They're supposed to be good for the digestion.
Judge: It was on FIRE!
Beets: It was heated.
6971186 Unfortunately, they have a bunch of Nobbies.
6971160 Well, he's not going to re-use the first one. Ick.
6971081 Tomorrow.
6970432 It takes two of them, and a certain amount of contortion...
6970981 Oooo, not going to touch that. Literally.
6970095 Depends on how long you cook 'em.
6970091 6970012 Cliffhangers? Would I do that?
You went there.
6971374
.....just saying. Of ALL the fruits it had to be.......
well don't I feel like a trash-mind now =P
6971395 well, it could have been a kumquat.
6971387 could have been worse (see above)
6971226
6971160
Ah. Thanks.
You know, the future version of that doctor will look back upon that moment, as he's sitting in a bed hooked up to all sorts of different monitors and equipment, and think, 'Yep... that's when I fucked up.'
6969959 Came in here to ask whether the riot scene was political commentary, but got my question answered here.
Small note: the primary motivation of rioting is not usually the looting, but the expression of anger about things like religion or food prices. A riot starts when someone does something violent (or breaks something, more likely) and then the rest of the crowd follows suit--cramming a flaming bottle up someone's fundament might kick things off nicely, for instance, not that the guy didn't earn it.
e: I read up on some things and I'm leaving out the detail that riots are often planned and organized.
That total bitch
Ohh, wow
Heehee. Dilligent protectors of Equestria
Oh, ouch!
Oh no
Pfff
Hah. An infiltrated changeling?
Heh. Called that.
I didn't realize he did cosmetic surgery as well
Well, whoops.
Jesus Christ, I just can't continue this anymore. This fanfic is like one giant cringe-fest.
After coming here from reading "The One Who Got Away", which was a fun and unique story, I am right now wondering only one thing: WTF?
"Buggy and the Beast" is like a kid who just learned about the differences between boys and girls, and now won't shut up about it. Characters in this story are made to look like adults by "casually" referencing what is "under the tail"* in just about every conversation, while at the same time being capable of only producing the most childish insults like "screw you". Basically, if it wasn't for the constant mentions of the "lifting the tail"*, this fanfic would easily pass into the E rating - its tone and setting is extremely mild, free from any mature themes (at least for those first few chapters), making all those sexual references completely jarring and inappropriate.
[* quoting from the fanfic]
If "distasteful" was a tag, "Buggy and the Beast" would be a perfect fit for it. Which is a shame, because the main characters make quite an interesting duo, and seeing what happens to them next could be quite fun, but as it stands right now, I really can't get past the immature writing.
Also, one more thing: Georg, do you actually know what the word "plot" means? It doesn't mean what you think (judging by how you used it) it means; nowhere in English language does the word "plot", in any way, relate to the word "ass", or "flank", or anything remotely similar.
Which means the sentence "Stop looking up my plot" is completely nonsensical.
Of course, I know what you are trying to do, you are obviously referencing the "I Watch It For The Plot" meme, but it just doesn't work this way. Not only is the meaning of "plot" different in different fandoms, but also, more importantly, will characters in Equestria even know about it? And know about it so well, that it would work in normal conversations? Why not throw in some "LOLs" or "awkward seals" into the conversations while you are at it too? They are far more popular than "watch it for the plot", so it would only make sense, right? Of course not, it would as nonsensical as the "plot" is right now.
7648679
If you enjoyed "The One Who Got Away" you might like to know that there's another story, Drifting Down The Lazy River with many of the same characters.
heh, saw that coming.