Myou've Gotta be Kidding Me

by DataPacRat

Higher and Lower Education

With the rumors that were going around, I didn't feel like giving Blueblood a chance to needle me, so the Alicorn would be staying in port. I didn't know of anypony who could cast the cloud-walking spell on me, and the Friendship Express (aka the Pony Express(R)) only went to so many places... and about the only one that contained anypony I actually knew was Ponyville. So I accompanied Cheerilee on her way back, with the official excuse of continuing our collaboration on improving the curriculum. It was even true, in a way, in that I was still trying to remember and write down everything I could about Montessori methods, gifted programs, and everything else I could think of about schools in which the students actually wanted to learn.

On the train ride back, as we talked, Cheerilee gave me the occasional odd glance, before finally saying, "Alright. Out with it."

"Out with what?" She tapped a hoof impatiently, so I sighed. "Fine, fine. I made a... rather significant social faux pas. So I'm taking some time to let it die down."

"How 'significant'?"

I winced and rubbed the back of my head with a hoof, not wanting to explain in too much detail. "Well, er... a rather high-placed figure was making some jokes, and I wanted to find out if there was some underlying truth to them, and I did so... clumsily. Very clumsily."

"Ah. That explains this, then." She reached into a saddlebag, and pulled out a newspaper. My mouth dried even before I saw the headline - "Princess in Cow's Bed" - and the picture, of Luna stretched out rather casually on a couple of hay bales.

I tried banging my forehead into the train-carriage wall, but all that accomplished was getting my horns stuck in the wood.

Cheerilee cheerfully continued, "It's actually a sweet little fluff piece, about how the Princess is taking the time to get to know how all of her subjects live these days. I don't believe you're even mentioned at all. No, wait, there you are - in a list of cows living in the royal dairy."

"Maybe I should just go back to being a hermit. Um..." I tried tugging my head free. "could I get a little help here?"

---

In Ponyville, Cheerilee invited me to her house, where we snacked on some light sandwiches while discussing her current students, and how she tried to encourage each of them to grow and blossom - and some of the problems each one had in doing so. A lot of it could be guessed from the show - trying to give Silver Spoon more and healthier friends than Diamond Tiara, trying to find ways for Diamond Tiara to relate better to the other fillies, Snips and Snails having trouble keeping up and so acting out to get attention, Featherweight growing into his role as student paper editor, the Crusaders tending to turn whatever they focused their attention on into shreds and splinters, Twist wanting to spend more time in the family shop than at school, Pipsqueak trying to make friends after moving in from Trottingham, Dinkey Doo being teased because of her mother... and, to my surprise, close to thirty others. The schoolhouse was only built to hold around a dozen students at a time, so most attended half-day classes, three or four times a week; Cheerilee said this let her spend time with each one, and to adjust the lessons to each group of foals, and gave all of them plenty of time to spend with their families, to play, and to go explore the world on their own. She'd heard of larger, full-day classes, in the big cities, but didn't like them - which is why she stayed in Ponyville.

It also seemed that she mainly covered reading, writing, arithmetic, with a few excursions into other topics - but when a foal had what I considered a grade-school education, they graduated. A few of the more scholastically inclined went off to a higher education in one of the big cities, but for the most part, the only further education in Ponyville was self-study at the local library - and all too few ponies were all that interested.

By the time we started discussing how to fund increased education, and I was trying to think of how to politely broach the subject of adding calves to the student body, my udder was starting to feel painfully tight, and Celestia's sun was getting close to the horizon. "Maybe we should pick this up tomorrow," I said. "I need to go get milked, and I'm sure you have more things to do, now that you're back from your vacation, then spend all your time with just one sloppy ol' cow."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to."

"Well - I kind of do, really; my udder waits for nopony."

"What I meant was - I can milk you right here, myself. If you want."

I blinked, and glanced at her hooves, and thought about them manhandling my udder - and felt just a teensy bit uncomfortable. Other than my couple of trips to the spa, and getting myself hooked up to the milking machines a few times each day, I simply hadn't really let anypony touch me. "Er - I'm not going to say 'no' - but I am going to point out that I have a very bad record at picking up subtext and social cues; so if you have anything in mind more than that..." I trailed off, feeling at least as awkward as that had sounded.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm just happy to help you feel better, and maybe get some free milk." I felt relief, with only a tinge of awkwardness. "While I shop at Quills and Sofas as often as the next filly," aaaand all that awkwardness came rushing back, "and I was quite experimental when I was younger," aaaand there was a stack of mental imagery surprise right there, "I wouldn't do anything like what you're implying," awkwardness receding, "at least not while we were both so tired after the train trip." And a spike of anticipatory awkwardness for any future chats. "I also have a spare bedroom you can use, if you'd like."

I focused on that latter item, to try to pretend she hadn't said any of what had come before. "I'm afraid that I don't know why, but when I'm by myself, I can't seem to fall asleep."

"Oh, that's alright - you can sleep with me, then."

I rubbed my head with a hoof, trying to think of not only how I should respond to that, but how I wanted to respond to that, when she suddenly burst into girlish giggles. "Oh, if you could just see your face!"

"Ah. Oh, I see. Okay, you got me. Aheh."

"I have to keep up such a perfect facade of respectability when I'm anywhere my students' families might see me, I can never let my hair down - or even pull a small prank like that one."

"That's quite understandable."

"Let alone do anything with another consenting adult that falls outside what they consider 'traditional norms'. But we're all big girls here, and I was telling the truth about my experimental years - so whatever way you want to sleep with me, or don't, that's fine. Just make a choice and let me know what it is, and we can go from there."

I blinked, and blinked again... and tried to seriously consider the options I was now facing. And I made my choice.

---

We just slept, okay? I don't know why some people have to take a perfectly innocent sleepover and start fantasizing about all sorts of razza-frazzin' hossenfeffer...

---

The next morning, she helped me empty my udder again, and then trotted off to the market to buy some groceries, while I went through the Dairy paperwork that had followed me from Canterlot via the first leg of the new Pegasus Express.

I was tempted to go look through Cheerilee's house for wherever she stored her purchases from Quills and Sofas. I resisted that temptation easily.

When Cheerilee came back, we had breakfast outside, at a table and some chairs she had set up behind her house, with a view of Carousel Boutique and the park to our left, and the schoolhouse to our right.

"So," she said, "You've really never...?"

"Let's just say that the rumors of my head being messed up aren't completely exaggerated - and it didn't exactly help that the closest I've come so far was a gang-rape."

"How about kissing?" I shook my head. "Cuddling?"

"Cheerilee - I sleep, and I mean sleep, with other people because I can't sleep if I don't. As far as my memory goes, you're the first person I've even let touch my udder to help with it. And just about everyone I meet, is through my work."

"Well. We can't let that continue."

"Pardon?"

"Whether or not you were insane before, if you keep up like that, you're going to end up completely bonkers within a month."

I sipped at my tea. "I can't say you're wrong. I just don't know what the solution is."

Cheerilee's eyes started twinkling. "I think I know how to help you find out." She held her hoof to her lips and gave a taxi-cab whistle, then shouted, "Oh, girls!"

Around the corner of her house galloped... Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle. My eyes widened and I whispered to Cheerilee, "You can't be serious."

She ignored me, having dropped effortlessly into her role as teacher.

"I'm sure all three of you remember Missy, who helped me teach a few weeks ago."

Apple Bloom piped up, "I do!"

Sweetie Belle added, "Me too!"

Scootaloo, "Kinda, I guess."

Cheerilee kept smiling cheerfully, and continued, "Missy has been having some trouble making new friends, so I thought that the three of you might be able to use your experience at crusading to help her find an activity where she can meet new people she can be friends with."

Three capes appeared out of... somewhere... and the trio slapped hooves. "Let's Go Cutie Mark Crusaders Matchmakers!"

I whispered out of the side of my mouth, "If I survive this, I'm going to kill you."

She whispered back, "Try, and I'll break out the padded hoofcuffs."

I tried to figure out just how serious she might me, which was enough of a distraction for the Crusaders to grab hold of my hooves and start dragging me to my doom. Doom, I say!

---

"Well, that was nice," I said, as I handed the bits to Mrs. Cake, and the rambunctious trio dug into their chosen treats. "I was afraid you were going to start dragging me from one random activity to another."

Apple Bloom pulled her mouth out of her confection long enough to say, "Nuh-uh! We've been at this long enough that we've found all the hard ways to do things, and now we know how to avoid 'em!"

Sweetie Belle piped up, "Almost all of them."

Scootaloo, "Some of 'em, anyway."

Apple Bloom admitted, "At least a few."

Sweetie Belle, "Anyway - it helps a lot if we can narrow down the choices before we start dragging you all around town."

Scootaloo, "That way we can focus on the stuff you'll have the most fun with!"

Sweetie Belle, "Or at least save the dull stuff 'til later."

Apple Bloom, "So, what do you like to do?"

The terrible trio looked up at me with their ginormous eyes, hooves holding pencils over notebooks, and I realized it was my turn to say something. "Um. Well. I guess you could say I'm a lot like Twilight Sparkle, with a good part of Fluttershy. I like reading, doing scientific experiments, taking long walks in nature, and cute li'l critters. I'm not really much into fashion or parties... is that a good start?"

They'd been scribbling furiously as I talked, though their notes looked like, well, actual scribbles to me. Apple Bloom asked, "How about making stuff?"

"Hm... I can think of a few things I'd like to try to make, out of copper wires, crystals, and a few other pieces."

"Like jewelry?"

"Not really - there are gadgets like 'spark-gap transmitters' and 'crystal radio receivers' that I almost remember how to build. If I could put together a decent pump, I might manage some form of vacuum tubes, which "

"So - building small, fiddly complicated stuff, not just carving wood or making houses or stuff like that."

"That's about right.

Sweetie Belle, "How about music?"

"I have sung a few songs in the past few weeks. I think I remember once being able to play a few musical instruments, but I don't know if I can actually handle any with my hooves."

She beamed. "We can work with that."

Scootaloo took a turn, "Do you like any sports? How about racing?"

"Sorry, my dear - I don't think I've got a competitive bone in my body. On those rare occasions when somebody stuck me in that sort of thing anyway, I've been known to help out one of my competitors who've been having trouble, instead of going for the win myself."

She frowned. "That's not- that is, you shouldn't... uh, should you?"

I shrugged. "It's one of those complicated, grown-up, you've-gotta-decide-for-yourself sort of things. Besides - I've only just started trying out the daily exercise routine Safe Guard figured out for me, and it's going to be a good long while before I'm in anything like decent physical shape."

They ran through a list of other activities, from gardening to ghosthunting to golfing to hang gliding to board games to pinball to puppets to papermaking to poetry to pony watching. Finally, they seemed to run out, or maybe run down, and confabbed over their notes. I sipped my own, mercifully nearly-sugar-free drink, and waited for the results.

Apple Bloom seemed to be the designated spokespony. "Since you're not trying to get a cutie mark-"

Scootaloo, "Can cows even get cutie marks?"

Apple Bloom bravely soldiered on, "and are trying to make friends instead - we think we've got just the thing for you to try first:"

All three chimed in: "Theater!"

They looked at me expectantly, so I rubbed my chin with a hoof, thoughtfully. "Well, I do remember once being part of a stage lighting crew..." At their looks, I added, "When I was smaller. A lot smaller." That seemed to satisfy them, so I continued, "And if one thing doesn't work, there's a lot of other things I could try, while still getting to know the same people..." And for their benefit, I added, "And I'm pretty sure it's not something I'd have come up with myself, any time soon." They beamed.

"So, what sort of theater group did you have in mind?"

They drooped. "Well, um, er, that is..."

Sweetie Belle broke the mumbling, "They kinda stopped letting us in after the time we tried to be Cutie Mark Crusader Concessionaires."

Scootaloo grumbled, "I still say that could have worked, if somepony hadn't started shouting to offer hot dogs in the middle of that pony's solilielolu... speech."

"Well, if they do let me on stage, I'll be sure that the three of you get in - as part of the audience."

---

As Cheerilee and I entered the practice stage area, I seemed to be just on cue to catch the start of a song.

I am the very pinnacle of Ponyville society,
My dresses have a tendency to live in notoriety,
From cradle to the grave I will live firmly in nobility,
And I feign a British accent to the best of my ability.
It's practically agreed by ev'ryone in the majority,
My many escapades just serve to further my authority,
I'm only speaking to you with the utmost of sincerity...
A gem amongst the rough like me is something of a Rarity.
(A gem amongst the rough like she is something of a Rarity.)
(A gem amongst the rough like she is something of a Rarity.)
(A gem amongst the rough like she is something of a Rari-Rarity.)

Both my clothing and my style are simply beautifully elegant
I'm really rather generous when left inside my element
For as long as I remember I was great for the proprieties
For I am the very pinnacle of Ponyville society.
(For as long as she remembers she was great for the proprieties
She is the very pinnacle of Ponyville society.)

Despite my inclination to get a little too obsessive
(It's gotten to the point where it is actually excessive)
I try my very hardest to improve my generosity
Although many times it's lead up to the birth of a monstrosity
I'd like to think of myself as surprisingly intelligent
Though I'm going to digress here as that thought is quite irrelevant
Ev'ry fibre of my being holds a front of being affable...
Anyone who says otherwise is merely acting laughable.
(Anyone who says otherwise is merely acting laughable.)
(Anyone who says otherwise is merely acting laughable.)
(Anyone who says otherwise is merely acting laugha-laughable.)

My huge amounts of class are very obviously apparent,
So obvious, in fact, it's almost totally transparent,
Despite my nervous bouts and regular fits of anxiety,
I am the very pinnacle of Ponyville society.
(Despite her nervous bouts and regular fits of anxiety,
She is the very pinnacle of Ponyville society.)

As we stomp-applauded, I thought to myself - I might be able to work with this. A Gilbert & Sullivan parody certainly sounds like it'd take more effort, more interaction, and be more sanity-saving than 'Baby Got Flank' or 'Sexy Naughty Bitchy Rarity'.

A gruff pony with a clipboard and a beard (how did that work, anyway?) approached us. "Yes?"

Cheerilee answered for me, "Missy here is here to find out if the theater is for her."

He glanced at me. "Been on stage before?"

"I've sung in front of an audience, if that's what you mean."

"Fine. Go on up, show us what you can do."

"Now?"

Cheerilee nudged me. "Go on - I'm sure you'll do fine! And even if you don't - what have you got to worry about?" I recalled a certain mob in Manehattan, but declined to tell her just what I did have to worry about.

In a few moments, I was in the middle of the small stage, with the local troupe all looking at me. I thought back to Ella Fitzgerald, to They Might Be Giants, to the Animaniacs... but then I looked down at Cheerilee, into her eyes looking back up to me... and - to my best guess - the local magic which prompted bouts of spontaneous musicalism took hold of things, for I found myself starting to sing something else entirely, with the accompaniment appearing on cue from the local strolling players without any prompting from me...

My head is stuck in the clouds
She begs me to come down
Says, "Girl, quit foolin' around"
I told her, "I love the view from up here
Warm sun and wind in my ear
We'll watch the world from above
As it turns to the rhythm of love"

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine
All mine
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love

My heart beats like a drum
A guitar string to the strum
A beautiful song to be sung
She's got blue eyes deep like the sea
That roll back when she's laughing at me
She rises up like the tide
The moment her lips meet mine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine
All mine
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love

When the moon is low
We can dance in slow motion
And all your tears will subside
All your tears will dry

And long after I've gone
You'll still be humming along
And I will keep you in my mind
The way you make love so fine

We may only have tonight
But till the morning sun, you're mine
All mine
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love
Play the music low
And sway to the rhythm of love
Yeah, sway to the rhythm of love

---

The clipboard-toting pony said, "I don't care if she's got three horns and no legs. If she can memorize at least a couple of lines, we'll keep her."

The part of my attention that was paying attention to him said, "Job. Canterlot."

He went on with something about taking what he could get, but I just got down from the stage, and settled into the seat next to Cheerilee's. I said to her, "I think I'm completely out of my depth."

She answered, "Songs don't always pan out. They just... take something that could be, and show it."

"So... there is something that could be?"

"Maybe. But I have ponies to teach, and you have your job in Canterlot - and I don't think either of us want to give those up."

"So... is that why that song was the song that... happened? 'We may only have tonight'?."

"Do you want to have tonight?"

"I don't know. And by that, I really mean that... I don't know. But... I think... I wouldn't mind... finding out."

Comments

[Ledomare]

Those last lines... wut.

[DataPacRat]

885150
It's been previously established that there's some sort of magic involved in public song-making, allowing, at the least, for unrehearsed coordinated dance routines. (And that things can go wrong, which was what led to that mob chasing Missy.)
Missy has been plucked from her home, stuck into a different body, different gender, different world, different set of physics; and has undergone a series of emotionally-charged events; and has been doing her best to deal with them entirely on her own. That day, she's been trying to find some way to emotionally connect to other people; and the previous night, Cheerilee described how her public face as a teacher doesn't describe the real her.
Put that all together, stick it in the blender and hit 'frappe', and whatever-it-is that runs the music is taking those dangling threads of attempted connections and showing how at least a couple of them can, possibly, be tied together.
Missy, who previously mentioned she's somewhat socially inept, tries to talk about it in her tongue-tied way.
And, discreetly, we fade to black.

... or, at least, that's what I was aiming for. I expect that I didn't do as well on that as I'd hoped, but I gave it a try.

[nemryn]

So, it appears that Quills & Sofas sells... other things as well. Huh.

[Minalkra]

oh my ... uhm, is this going to be notched up into 'mature' territory? not that i mind or anything but, uhm, some people might want forewarning. i'm sorry, i don't mean to be ... mean. or anything.

[DataPacRat]

885209
As previously mentioned in chapter 6.

885215
I have no plans on anything more mature than what's been written here; while references may be made that adult events happened, I'm not going to describe them, any more than when Griffin the Griffin and Gilda hooked up anything explicit was described, even though the fact that they did hook-up was.

[nemryn]

885240
Ah yes. I had forgotten about that, and/or assumed that Q&S was merely being used as a landmark.

Sheesh, that was twenty chapters ago! This thing is moving ridiculously fast. How much time has passed for Missy?

[Forevermore]

Bwa-hahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahhaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahhaahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahahahahahaha

[Multiversity]

I think somepony has a word-of-the-day calendar or something...

Hossenfeffer?...

[JadeCriminal]

NIce.

Not something I'd think to write bun then again I'm too lazy to be a rationalist and am not afraid of fading away.

Anything I write is usually fueled by audacity, cool or wish-fulfillment. Tho it has been proven that my definition of word can differ.

[DataPacRat]

885414
As of this chapter, Missy's been in Equestria for something on the order of four weeks.

885598
I was trying to channel Yosemite Sam's g-rated profanity.

[nemryn]

884072
Or, if you trace the roots a little further back, you get 'bowl-making'. Which means that Starswirl the Bearded was, in fact, a hairy potter.

[DataPacRat]

887295
Ow. Just... Ow.

[FormNalvoid]

887464 Poor missy stuck in a cows body surrounded by ponies.

[AppleTank]

A month. Missy did all this, in a month. What the hell. You're also badass in you own way. Griffin makes explosions in life, you make subtle explosions inside the government. I CALL OP
(jk)

[DataPacRat]

889166
If it helps - she's started a lot of things in that month, but most of 'em aren't in a usable state yet, or otherwise haven't finished being implemented. She hasn't even had a chance to re-invent wireless telegraphy yet - and Canterlot itself forms a vulnerable single-point-of-failure of the Dairy network. (Some of this has been mentioned in my current draft of the next chapter, which is why it's on my mind...)

[nemryn]

889166
In her own way, Missy is probably the most dangerous of all the 'chess pieces'.

[AppleTank]

889759
Dude, they're all crazy powerful in their element. Its like saying a singer is better than a athlete.

[nemryn]

889780
Well, maybe so. I haven't actually read any of the other CGotG stories.

[DataPacRat]

890160
You haven't? Wow, I'm flattered.
May I ask what drew you to start reading this fic, rather than any of the others?

[nemryn]

890180
'Aspiring rationalist'. I'm a fan of rationalism, so when I saw a pony equivalent of HPatMoR, I jumped on it.

[AppleTank]

890160
At the very least, you should read the 'core' stories:
The Ballad of Echo the Diamond Dog
Griffin the Griffin
The Bounty Catching, Freedom Dreaming, Winged Wolf Phenomenon
From Nobody to Knightmare
Dancing Flames, Cooling Ember
Through Feline Eyes
The Blue Stranger, The Red Curtain
The rest are of varying quality, of varying atmospheres, of varying themes, varying locations. Few authors do try to make their story match up perfectly with the other 50?, a daunting task to be sure. (JJ Malcom (Knightmare) is attempting to do so)
Also, we have a seriously diverse group of species. Here, have a LINK TO THE GAME

[Thardoc]

Chapta 28, the link takes you to a terminated youtube account D:

[DataPacRat]

1232830
Thanks for catching that - I found another copy of that video, and replaced the link.
(I expected a certain amount of link rot over time, just not quite so soon...)

[Themaskedferret]

885197 It fit perfectly for me. I've been in that sort of situation (not exactly thankfully) but close enough to know how people tend to act and for me it connected beautifully.

[coandco]

"That's about right.

You're missing an end-quote for this paragraph.