Goosed!

by Estee

The Pregastric Proventriculus Peril

They talked a little, as they made their way back with the readied contents of sacks and saddlebags. (Surprisingly, the taste-test-free cooking process had yielded no nausea, while going into the greenhouse itself had required only an extended bout of breath-holding until Rainbow began channeling fresh air in from the outside -- and in the end, nopony had wanted to think about what Mr. Flankington intended to do with the plant which had been labeled as corpse flower. And everypony had eaten, anything they could identify as safe, and all had agreed to forward any resulting bill to the mayor.) Some of it was about what had happened near the fringe, although such suffered frequent interruptions: every so often, a goose would appear and lunge at one of them, trying for the freshly-made grass and Rainbow, who had far and away the fastest reflexes, would instantly have to go on feed duty. It tended to break up the flow of discussion and after a while, they all found themselves mentally editing out the breaks in order to create something a little more coherent, especially as the lunges were starting to pick up in both intensity and frequency. They were finally approaching the eastern bridge into Ponyville proper.

Rainbow watched her latest meal recipient fall over. She kept looking at it for a few seconds before flying on.

"Did I ever tell you guys about Gilda's family?"

They all shook their heads.

"They're ranchers. I spent two summers visiting her in Protocera, and we went all over the ranch. Her parents even let me try out some of the most basic ranch stuff -- as long as they were watching. And I mean watching close. They had to be right there, and if they found out we'd tried anything without them... well, there was some stuff they didn't find out about, but..."

"Ranchers?" It got Applejack's attention. "They raise food, y'mean? Seriously? That's the kind of family Gilda comes from?"

"Yeah! She wasn't sure she wanted to do it for her whole life, though. I mean, she thinks it's fun, and there's sure enough challenge to it, but she was really looking for something a little -- lower-risk."

"Um..." Pinkie, trotting below Rainbow's resumed flight path, suddenly looked a little uncertain regarding previous events. "...didn't you say she was thinking about being a stunt flyer? Like you?"

"Yeah. Like I said. Lower-risk."

They all thought about it.

"Rainbow," Rarity cautiously said, "I believe we may require a little more in the way of detail?"

"Well, you know griffons eat meat. Mostly. And they honor the Treaty Of Menagerie, plus they like stuff that puts up a fight. So they don't eat anything that can think, and they believe that --" frowning, concentrating with the effort to remember exact words " -- 'the fiercer the struggle, the more worthy the prey?' Anyway, it means they won't eat most normal animals. Pretty much everything at the cottage wouldn't even get a glance."

"So what do they use for meat?" Applejack lightly treaded. "'cause y'jus' closed out most of the possibilities, an' that really jus' leaves --" her skin began to pale beneath the filthy coat. "-- aw, no, y'don't mean..."

Rainbow nodded. With perfect calm, "Monsters."

And now they were all staring at her.

"The ones who don't think," the weather coordinator continued. "The ones you can sort of control -- most of the time. They breed them. It takes a lot of land, and you have to raise some other monsters to feed the bigger ones, and -- anyway, it's the sort of job where you're either really good at it or you don't have to worry about lasting long enough to get good, you know? But that's what they do. They raise monsters. For meat."

"And you spent summers there?" Spike just barely got out.

"Yeah. Vacations. Fun ones."

"An' why," Applejack cautiously continued, "are y'thinkin' 'bout this right now?"

"The geese."

"Once again: a touch more detail, please..."

"Rarity, you heard the name. Ultionum Prandium."

"...Rainbow, I don't understand..."

"Think about it, Fluttershy! They breed monsters. For meat. They've been doing that forever! They work with things which could kill them every day, just so they can have a good meal. And they'll eat some normal animals, if it's something that'll fight. If I wanted to make Gilda do anything, I'd tell her I was gonna go into town and get some shark. Stunts, races, wagers, the dumbest bets... if there was shark waiting at the other end for the winner, she usually went for it. Which kind of made me winning... well, she laughed a lot, and then I'd give her the stuff --"

"Styrofoam," Pinkie autocorrected before saying "Oh, other stuff! Sorry. You were saying?"

Rainbow briefly glared down at her. "Anyway, the geese can fight, really fight! We've all been through that. And just the fact that they've got lunch in their name means someone was eating them. So I was thinking... they're an animal the griffons would normally respect enough to keep around, right? Just for the meals? The ones who got caught outside the Empire... you'd think they would have wound up on ranches, being bred. That sounds right, doesn't it?"

They all nodded.

Thoughtfully, "And the ones outside still went extinct in two years."

Again.

"Suspiciously extinct."

Long thoughts slowly made their way across the streamlined body.

"Ultionum Prandium... Hey, there's the bridge! Come on, everypony, home stretch! Let's go feed some geese! A little grass and all our problems are solved! Let's go finish this! A little greenery scatter -- okay, I saw it was sort of sand-colored when it came out -- and we're done! Except for having to move the sick ones, maybe to a zoo or something, but the police can help with that. One more push, everypony! Just pick up the pace a little and we'll -- oh..."

---

"Spike?"

Her voice sounded oddly distant to her own ears, as if she was speaking to herself from several gallops away. But somehow, Spike still heard her.

"Applejack?"

"Take a note for me? Not a letter. A note. Somethin' Ah can look at later, if'fin Ah ever need to. Okay?"

"Sure..."

"Thank y'kindly. Now, write this down exactly as Ah'm sayin' it. 'If'fin Ah ever go up against another creature ' --"

"If I ever go up against another creature..."

"'-- an' Fluttershy tells me that thing's known for havin' the world's, an' Ah quote, 'single least efficient digestive system' --"

" -- and Fluttershy -- Applejack, you didn't know, nopony could have known --"

"'-- Ah will give some really serious thought 'bout what Ah'm gonna feed it."

They stood on the bridge and stared out over Ponyville.

It was autumn. Not too cold yet, as such things went. And certainly on many winter days, the product which Pinkie called styrofoam would steam in chill air after emergence, and continue to do so until it had cooled somewhat. But not in fall, of course. Not for normal styrofoam.

However, when you took a "food" product (and Applejack could feel herself adding the quotes) which was known to wreak havoc on pony biology and put it through, here came the quotes again, the world's "single least effective digestive system..."

The results were steaming.

Also sizzling.

Oozing might have gotten into it somewhere.

The fumes seemed vaguely acidic. They certainly seemed to be having that effect on any nearby paint. Some of the weaker types of wood. And maybe that particular bit of street was naturally potholed, or some sandstone could have slipped in somewhere...

"Oh, Applejack," Rarity sighed. "Spike is right: you had no way of knowing this would happen..."

She wasn't entirely listening. In that same gallops-distant voice, "Pinkie?"

"Yes?"

"Y'remember The Day Of The Baked Bads?"

"Um... yes..."

"Ah jus' realized that Ah'm personally responsible for the two greatest gastronomic disasters in the history of Ponyville."

"Oh, Applejack..."

"An' Ah'm sayin that as a pony who's livin' in the same settled zone as Mr. Flankington."

"Applejack."

"It's really an impressive accomplishment, when y'go an' think 'bout it."

There were stomach-sick geese, here and there. But there were also perfectly healthy ones, and far too many of them. A few might have left in fear, or perhaps just temporarily relocated to other parts of the settled zone. But it wasn't enough.

"Applejack." It was rare to hear Pinkie that insistent. "Listen to me, please. Look at the geese!"

"Ah am lookin'. How long do y'think we'll be looking for until the last of the paint melts? Maybe we should call in Fallout an' the rest of the biohazard team now? An' anypony have any idea how Ryder's fixed for movin' supplies? Actually, y'know that little shrine he keeps t' mah sister an' the other two, the one he thinks nopony knows 'bout, 'cause so many ponies who move in meet the Crusade an' move right back out? Ah think he's gonna need some extra space. An' another picture. Ah think Ah've got one Ah can let him have. For free, 'specially since it's gonna be his goin'-out-of-business sales rush, 'cause after everypony moves away this time, won't be nopony 'round for sellin' t' ever again..."

"APPLEJACK! DUCK!"

"Ah only wish it was ducks --"

And the geese were on top of them.

It was a short fight, as such things went. There were several clear targets, and since the group themselves weren't directly among them, they found themselves having some unexpected difficulty in mounting an effective defense. Their own bodies: those they were used to shielding. Carried items? Not so much.

And then the triumphant geese flew away with the sacks and saddlebags full of freshly-prepared Saddle Arabian Grass Specials, their honking sounding like something very close to laughter, as the rents which had been put in the fabric during the fight dropped styrofoam fuel all over Ponyville.

Hundreds of geese watched that fall. Lunged for the results. Eating commenced.

"An'," Applejack peacefully said, "Rarity, wherever we wind up next, assumin' anywhere will have us, yer gonna want t' design some stronger saddlebags. 'cause I jus' proved there's a market."

"Applejack," Rarity said with what seemed like an odd urgency, "we all need you to focus. This is a setback, yes, but we are hardly out of resources both external and internal. There are still things we can try --"

"-- hey, everypony, look!"

They looked up at Rainbow, noted the direction her foreleg was pointing it, looked further up.

"It's a Canterlot air carriage!" Rarity gasped.

"It looks just like the one Twilight got here in!" Pinkie nearly cheered. "Exactly like it! That means it's an Emergency Express ride!"

"...is somepony coming to help?" Fluttershy softly asked. "But how would they -- oh! Spike!"

Who gently touched Applejack's right shoulder. "That letter you had me send to the Archives -- do you think...?"

She was watching the carriage approach. "Ain't the Princess," she said from about half a gallop closer to her own body. "Or Luna: Ah'd know those bodies anywhere. Wrong color for Twi. Jaw kinda looks like a stallion from here. Rainbow, y'got the best eyes: what can y'make out?"

"Male, yeah. Sort of -- greenish-grey. Older stallion: a lot of the grey's around his muzzle. And he's a unicorn. He could be an Archivist, I guess: he looks nerdy enough -- wow, they just dodged the geese there! And -- no, they're fine, those are some first-class fliers at the front of that thing, looks like they're going to make it down..."

The carriage landed. The occupant carefully stepped down, and the carriage immediately took over again, heading back to Canterlot at a speed three levels beyond indecent haste.

The unicorn looked around. It was easy for the group to watch him: he was the only pony in sight anywhere. Every last Ponyville resident seemed to have retreated to their homes, or was barricaded up within their workplace, plus there might have been a few kicking their bits in Ryder's specific direction. For street traffic, it was down to just him -- and the geese.

He trotted forward a little. This crossed multiple borders, and two geese hissed at him.

"Magnificent," he breathed. They hissed again. He didn't seem to notice.

A wavering grey field flipped open the lid of his left saddlebag, and a vial was eventually levitated out. The stopper was removed, and another bubble of field surrounded a sample of stuff, deposited it, where it completely coated the interior, exterior, and most of the reapplied stopper.

"Perfectly healthy!" he beamed -- then saw one of the steaming pieces. "...what? What happened to this poor beautiful, magnificent...?"

There were times when everypony took actions while knowing they were going to regret them: Applejack was no different. Every time she opened a letter from Cheerilee, whenever she headed for her own front door after hearing the familiar knock which said the police were having the Juvenile department drop a recently-Crusaded Apple Bloom off again. This was no different, and she felt the distance between pony and voice starting to increase as she casually made her way down the arch of the bridge, kicking out at geese here and there with no conscious effort at all.

At least one of those impacts briefly got the unicorn's attention. "What? What are you doing? You're hurting them! How could anypony go and hurt...!"

"Ain't," Applejack pleasantly said. "Takes a lot more than that t' do it. Ah'm just makin' sure Ah can talk t' you, face t' face." And before his opening mouth could release the fast-approaching protest, "We ain't met before, but Ah'm bettin' y'know me. Ah'm Applejack. Ah believe y'got mah letter?"

Which got the attention from his small black eyes fully focused on her. (This prevented him from noticing the goose who was launching an attack from the right, and he didn't notice Pinkie stopping it either.) "Oh! Yes, I did! How did you send that, by the way? I've never seen anything like it: a burst of green flame, and then the scroll just dropped right onto my desk...!"

"Trade secret," emerged with an oddly peaceful air to it. "So y'know me a little. An' who do Ah have the pleasure of speakin' to?"

"I am Cartier Anserini," the stallion proudly said. "I am Canterlot's foremost avian paleobiologist."

"Ah'm sorry, but Ah don't know the word --"

"-- I study extinct species," he replied. "Or ones which should be extinct!" His left foreleg gestured out, taking in the stuff-littered, steamed, burning, goose-laden Tartarus surrounding them while completely managing to miss Rainbow and Rarity, who were currently the only things keeping him on his hooves within it. "When I wrote the taxonomy publishers and convinced them to send out an early new edition covering what we once knew about the species of the Empire... I have to say, Ms. Applejack, I never thought I'd be looking at these beautiful creatures." His eyes were becoming moist. "I suspected there was a chance some had survived, but -- I couldn't bring myself to hope. And, well... a trip to the Empire is still somewhat on the expensive side, at least for an Archivist in my department. And here they are, having come to me..."

She managed a nod while very carefully not looking too closely over the stallion's shoulder, where Spike had just come out on top of an impromptu tail-talon-claw contest. "Well, Ah'm glad yer here. Ah asked for the expert on 'em, and clearly you're it, right? Since nopony sent a book an' you came instead?"

He puffed out his narrow rib cage. "As much as anypony can be without ever having had the honor of direct observation -- until today, of course."

"So," Applejack carefully said, "as the expert... how would y'say we go 'bout gettin' rid of 'em?"

The Archivist's little black eyes locked onto her.

"Get -- rid of them?"

"Yeah. 'cause if'fin y'wanna do somethin' like, Ah dunno, really look 'round for a minute --"

"-- why would anypony want to get rid of them?"

"Again, kinda have t' ask if y'wanna try the whole lookin' 'round thing. Or maybe just lookin' down. Ah know y'already did down."

It got her an enthusiastic nod. "YES! Did you see it?"

Applejack could have taken a long, pointed glance back over the foulness which encrusted most of her body and hat. She did not. "Yeah."

"The -- well, the academic term is --"

"Styrofoam!" Pinkie shouted at the exact instant before she double-hind-kicked a goose halfway across the bridge.

The Archivist didn't even turn. "...no, that's not it... but actually, given the age of the actual word and how easy it is to confuse with the term for manticore droppings, which are of course a completely separate category... Anyway, we've only had fossils to study up until now! Of the styrofoam, I mean. Well --not quite fossils, actually."

"Really?"

"Some of them are still semi-solid."

"Y'don't say."

"We're still not entirely sure of how long it takes the styrofoam to completely break down. Well, 'we' as in 'I.' I've been trying to come up with a term for that process, at least once which hasn't been used before. I thought something along the lines of half-life --"

"-- uh-huh. Mr. Anserini, y'can study the geese an' the stuff -- sorry, Pinkie -- styrofoam all y'like: Ah don't mind. Ah'm jus' askin' you t' do it later. They're all over Ponyville, they've claimed it as their territory --"

"-- really? So the stories about their being the most territorial species to ever try and claim the entire world as their own are true? Fascinating!"

"-- an' they're leavin' feathers an' styrofoam everywhere, stealin' food, attackin' ponies, gettin' everything dirty -- so we kinda need 'em t' leave. That's why Ah wrote. So somepony who knows 'em could help make that happen. And wherever they go to, y'can study 'em there. So is it a noise, or another critter, maybe a spell somepony wrote down a long time ago --"

The unicorn's little dark stare felt extremely familiar.

"But this is their natural habitat."

"...no, it's not," came from Fluttershy, who had been slowly approaching. "...not after this much time..."

And somehow, the caretaker became the first other pony he was willing to see. "Oh, really. And what would you know about animals, young lady?"

"...just that --"

"I am an academic. I have a degree."

"...I didn't go to college, but I've read your update, and I --"

"So you can read. Your parents are very proud, I'm sure."

Fluttershy took three slow hoofsteps back, displacing a mere six geese along the way.

"I have no intention of removing them," the stallion told the air, with Applejack as, at best, incidental audience. "More than a thousand years extinct, and now we're lucky enough to have them again? I am of a mind to speak with Princess Celestia personally. Declare this area a protected zone. Let them have the run of it, just as they did so long ago. For any attempt to change their habits might cost us their presence a second time, and that is not a risk I would ever take."

"But... what 'bout the ponies who live here?"

"What about them? They can move. I believe I saw a supply store during the flight in, and several rather conscientious ponies discussing the division of its contents. Your local environmentalists, obviously: those with their priorities in order."

Her voice was currently approaching the western coast and planning a nice long vacation before scouting for a new residence. "It's our settled zone."

And in the declarative tones of a pony who believed he was ending the argument, "There can always be more settled zones. There will certainly always be more ponies. But unless we are very careful, we may not get any more geese. Do you understand me now?"

"Well, Ah'd like t' think that even after the things Ah've been through today, Ah'm still a little bit sane, so t' answer your question --"

"I will speak to Princess Celestia about this. I am certain she will respect my position on the matter."

"You know the Princess?"

"Do you?

"Well --"

"-- but until then, I have to study!" His gaze swept over the area, once again missing every other pony occupying it -- which, when it came to Rarity, really took some work, and Applejack briefly admired his ability to ignore a unicorn who had just figured out how to create a living three-way knot. "I know these geese, better than anypony does. Yes, I might have never seen them until today, never had that honor. But study is enough. Acquaintance through books teaches all anypony might need to know. And so I will move among them, see their ways for the first time, and then I will have the stories necessary to truly convince the thrones of where their real priorities must be. My thanks for the alert, Ms. Applejack. I will of course credit you as the pony of first sighting when I publish my paper. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He happily trotted off, completely failing to notice the eight geese who snapped at him as he went by. Applejack watched him go.

Fluttershy slowly approached. "...aren't we going to..."

"Naw."

"...but somepony should really..."

"Naw."

"...we can't just leave him."

"Can't save somepony who don't wanna be saved, neither." The west coast? The ocean might be better. There were islands out there, right? "Ain't no savin' a fool from themselves. No point in even --"

The explosion of honking hit all their ears at the same moment, a sound loud enough to pause the current battles-in-progress and make even the geese stop to look. And what they all saw was this:

Initially, there was one goose, flying at low altitude, straining against the lasso which had inexpertly caught its feet, a loop which was threatening to slip off at any moment. Right behind that came a trio of fillies, one with the rope desperately clutched between her teeth, the other two being dragged by the loops which had somehow managed to catch their legs in a more certain and inextricable lock than any actual casting of a rope made by that lead pony had ever managed. And behind them was no less than four hundred geese, honking and hissing and in full pursuit with something close to murder in the myriad black eyes, something none of the fillies could be bothered to notice or understand.

The orange one, tumbling along at the back, oblivious to any and all witnesses, took a deep, rallying breath.

"Cutie Mark Crusaders Goose Removal Services! Yay!"

The rushing flock momentarily blocked off Applejack's view. And then there was a cloud of feathers and fury heading for the center of town.

She wasn't aware of having broken into a gallop, found herself chasing purely on that instinct which was so precious to Rainbow, and certainly had no idea how Rarity was managing to keep up with her. She didn't even understand where she was finding the breath for words in the middle of the pursuit. And yet, words there were, and every last one originated from Ponyville.

"Rarity?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Y'know, Ah still ain't sure 'bout this whole leader thing."

"I know."

"Ah'm screwin' up. Made things worse. Could maybe make things worse than that before this ends, if'fin it even does."

"In the worst-case scenario, perhaps..."

"But there's still somethin' Ah know Ah can do. Maybe jus' you an' me who can do it now, in all of Equestria."

Rarity grimly nodded, and with their friends close behind, the ponies raced on, sharing (but for internal accents) the exact same thought as they rushed off to try and save a trio of fools from themselves.

'cause you an' me might jus' be the only ponies left in the whole world who can catch up t' that mess an' not try t' kill our sisters.

Comments

[Talon and Thorn]

You're really not all that keen on the crusaders are you?

[raven618]

I know exactly how to deal with Cartier Anserini.
Manacles + hoof cuffs + rolling pin + flock of pigeons

[MitchellTF]

7214442

I think it's a side effect of the way he's doing realism. He's deconstructing them, along with deconstructing the town's opinion of the Mane Cast. So, kids who cause as much trouble as they are...are treated realisticly. IE, as "OH CRAP THEY'RE COMING."

That said, he does lack the reconstruction. It'd be interesting to compare Estee to Pony POV, because both are VERY well written works.

[Mythic Night]

You know, when you referenced the juvenile division, I got to thinking; as much trouble as the CMC have gotten up to, they’ve apparently been too young to actually arrest and charge, so what happens when they turn 13? Would that be old enough for them to actually go to juvenile hall?

And what would Scootaloo do if she were forced to stew in a cell for a while, WITHOUT her cutie mark?

[4rtemis]

9210890
Cutie Mark Crusaders Jailbreakers! Yay!

[The Great Scribbly One]

"The ones who don't think," the weather coordinator continued. "The ones you can sort of control -- most of the time. They breed them. It takes a lot of land, and you have to raise some other monsters to feed the bigger ones, and -- anyway, it's the sort of job where you're either really good at it or you don't have to worry about lasting long enough to get good, you know? But that's what they do. They raise monsters. For meat."

Can't help but be reminded of the Demoman:
"What makes me a good demoman? If I were a bad demoman, I wouldn't be sittin' here, discussin' it with ye, now would I?!"