3. Getting Into The Act
Getting Into The Act
A thunderous hammering echoed through the cabin from an energetic and loud stallion repeatedly smashing a hoof against the thick door. “Open up! This is the police!”
The voice continued with several variations on the theme before the changeling stirred from his rest, slowly at first due to the chill which had soaked into his body, but more rapidly once the words soaked through his ears and into his brain. He bolted to his hooves and cursed not having checked the cabin for an alternative exit before shaking the sleeping Trixie.
“Not yet, mom,” she muttered, trying to pull the blankets back over her body.
“It’s the police,” he hissed into her ear just in case she missed the loud bellow from outside the door.
“This is the Trixie,” she murmured, clutching desperately to her pillow while the changeling pulled on it. “Go away and let me sleep.”
“We know you have a changeling in there,” bellowed the police officer, continuing to hammer on the door. “Come out with your hooves in the air.”
“How would Trixie even walk that way?” muttered Trixie face-down into the mattress while the changeling threw the last piece of bedding to the other side of the room. “Be a dear and tell them to go away, would you?”
“Open up this door or I’ll break it down!” bellowed the police pony.
“Hold it right there, Sheriff Overwhelm!” shouted another voice, much higher and as shrill as broken glass. “Get your hooves off my cabin!”
“You told me there was a changeling inside, Miss Prissy,” bellowed the sheriff.
“I don’t want you to break my cabin to get it out!” snapped the other voice, whom the changeling presumed to be the cottage park owner. “Can’t you… lay down traps or something?”
Trixie rolled over and blinked several times, looking up into the changeling’s eyes with a baffled expression. “Why is there a changeling in my room?”
“Because there’s a pony in mine,” snapped the changeling, pointing at the door. “There’s about to be two!”
The sheriff’s voice filtered through the door again. “Now look here, Miss Prissy. You told me there was a changeling in your cabin. A little damage is a small price to pay for your security. Now stand aside and I’ll break down the door.”
“Oh, no you don’t!” snapped Prissy.
“Good,” said the changeling.
Prissy continued, “I’ve got the spare key back in the office. Let me go get it.”
“Fewmets!” cursed the changeling.
“Oh, fudge.” Trixie staggered out of bed and stood spraddle-legged in the middle of the small cabin bedroom for a moment, with her eyes still closed and her tangled mane almost standing on end from being damp when she had gotten under the covers. “Be useful and change into something before you tell him to go away.”
The changeling looked back from where he had peeked out of the cabin’s front window curtains. “He’s a unicorn! He’s probably got that blasted detection spell!”
“Oh.” Trixie opened her eyes and blinked several times. “That changes things. You run out the front door and get captured while I’ll sneak out the back. Just let me pack a few things.” Trixie slapped her hat onto her head and her cloak onto her back before staggering into the bathroom.
As much as the changeling wanted to yell at her, he sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed his forehooves until Trixie darted back out of the bathroom.
“Bathroom window too small for your fat flank?” he asked.
“Yes!” she hissed back, actually seeming awake now. “Change into something smaller that will fit and scram. I’ll distract the sheriff.” Trixie opened the shades just a fraction and peeked out of the front window while the changeling sauntered toward the bathroom, stopping in the doorway and looking back over his shoulder.
“What are you going to do about the bits you owe me?”
“Would you rather be broke or in jail?” she hissed back. The rapid departure of the changeling into the bathroom answered her question quite well, and Trixie arranged her hat while getting ready to open the front door. “Showtime.”
“Wait!” The changeling scurried back into the bedroom in the form of a smaller young filly, looking a little panicked. “The back window’s painted shut and it’s got bars. What are we going to do?”
“We?” Trixie raised one eyebrow and scoffed. “Trixie is going to scream to the sheriff and claim I found a changeling hiding in the room. You can do whatever you want.”
The changeling laid his ears back and glared, which carried considerably less vitriol at his reduced size. “What are you going to do when I tell him we are in this together and he arrests us both?”
“You wouldn’t.” Trixie eyed the changeling. “You wouldn’t?”
The changeling kept wearing his best stern expression while standing by the window curtains.
“Yeah, you would. You’re sure vengeful about a few bits.” She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “All right, all right. Trixie will think of something.”
“Here’s the key, Sheriff.” There was a sound of some scuffling outside the door. “I’m going to go lock myself back in the office now. Come get me when you have that evil bug locked away.”
The changeling took a moment to peek through the curtains. “You better hurry up because he’s got the— What are you doing?”
Trixie’s magic surrounded the curtain drawstrings and snipped off a long piece before floating one end over to the changeling’s neck. “Change back to your normal form, shut up, and do whatever I tell you. Maybe we can both get out of this without going to jail.”
Although he really wanted to ask, the changeling did as he was told, shifting back into his normal shape and holding very still when Trixie flung open the cabin door to reveal the frowning sheriff with his horn already lighting up, presumably to cast the changeling detection spell.
Talk about overkill. If he can’t detect me like this, he needs a cane and a guide dog.
“Why have you interrupted the sleep of the Great and Powerful Trrrrrixie?” shouted Trixie at what could only be her full volume. “Don’t you know I have a show to put on this afternoon?”
“Ah-HA!” shouted the sheriff at a somewhat lower volume while pointing at the changeling. “You’ve got a changeling… on a leash?”
“Of course I have him on a leash!” bellowed Trixie, somehow managing to increase her already impressive volume. “You’ve got a leash law in this town, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie always follows the law!” The changeling was not sure if his ears were just growing numb or if Trixie’s volume had actually reduced while she continued, “Trixie is a strong supporter of law enforcement. Why, Trixie has had a close relationship with law enforcement for many years, and has performed at many of their exclusive events.”
As much as the changeling wanted to chime in with his own opinion about what kind of relationship it was and the probability she had been wearing hoofcuffs during most of the events, he stayed shut up while Trixie thundered onward on her presentation and the long list of charitable fundraisers she had performed at.
“…the Singleshoe Policestallion’s Benefit and Scholarship Fund, the Broken Star Fund for the support of widows, and Father Fetlock’s School for Orphans.”
The sheriff looked battered by the torrential flood of words, but he managed to respond with a weak, “Yes, but—”
“And to top it all off, just two months ago, Trixie performed an exclusive show for the Manehattan Police Department that resulted in the capture of the nefarious jewel thief Rough Diamond!”
The policestallion’s face was a study in stunned confusion as he repeated somewhat quieter, “Yes, but—”
With a flip of her hoof to push her freshly laundered and cleaned hat back on her head, Trixie proclaimed, “Trixie has performed before the crowned heads of Equestria, Saddle Arabia, and Maretonia, and for one afternoon only, she will be gracing your tiny little town with her amazing feats of skill.”
The sheriff managed to point one hoof at the changeling and weakly counter, “That’s a changeling.”
The changeling looked up at Trixie who was balancing on her hind legs. He so wanted to say, “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” but restrained himself by thinking about just how cold the prison cells in this small town would probably be.
“Not just a changeling, but a trained feral changeling,” proclaimed Trixie with a flourish of one hoof in his direction. “Behold the fierce and vicious predator of the Badlands. Much less intelligent than a regular changeling, they still can be captured and tamed with great effort by a skilled hunter and trained to perform amazing tricks. Trixie has spent many months training this fierce beast, taking her own life into her hooves by teaching him obedience, thus turning this monster into a loyal pet, totally under my command. At her performance this afternoon, Trixie will be proud to show all of your little town just how amazing a job she has done and all of the tricks he can perform.”
“Tricks?” said the sheriff.
I really need to see this. Oh, wait. That’s me.
“Yes, of course!” Trixie polished a hoof on her cape. “Trixie is still working on teaching it the more advanced tricks such like jumping through flaming hoops and juggling, but the simple tricks were foal’s play. Observe.”
With all of the places the changeling had been and all of the things he had experienced, he had never even once considered being in this position. He sat up, rolled over, jumped on command, begged and started to see a little light at the end of the tunnel once the skeptical emotions from the sheriff thinned, being replaced by just a sweet hint of curiosity.
“Well,” started the sheriff after Trixie had finished putting her ‘pet’ through his paces. “I don't see his tags.”
“Err…” Now it was the sheriff’s turn to interrupt Trixie.
“You can’t use him in a performance until he’s had his tags and shots.”
Shots?
“Trixie will be more than happy to get her amazing feral changeling registered and immunized now that he has been trained enough to perform. Do you have a veterinarian in town?”
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
“Shots?” whispered the changeling while they walked through town.
“Remember, the sheriff is watching us,” replied Trixie in a quiet whisper without moving her lips.
Instead of responding the way he wanted to since he could still feel the emotional skepticism of the sheriff lurking somewhere behind them, the changeling put his head down and whimpered in submission while tugging at the makeshift leash all the way to the vet’s office.
~ ~ ♠ ~ ~
“He’s on a leash!” Trixie shouted at the screaming pony running out of the veterinarian’s office and down the street. “Look! Right here! He’s perfectly safe! Sheesh,” she added, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Some ponies are terrified idiots.”
“What’s going on out here?” The voice from inside of the building was warm and comforting, much like the warm aura of affection drifting in the changeling’s direction when the veterinarian moved over to the counter and looked in shock at her unique patient. “T-t-that’s a changeling!”
The changeling put a hoof to his forehead.
Trixie sighed.
“You must be the veterinarian,” she snarked. “He’s a feral changeling, tamed by the Great and Powerful Trixie. We’re here to get his tags and his—” Trixie lowered her voice to a conspiring whisper “—shots.”
The changeling whined, which was only about half theatrical. Needles hurt.
“Um… Yes,” said the vet, blinking a lot but still maintaining her position at the counter while radiating a spicy mixture of fascination and terror. “Tags. I can see how… I’ve never had a changeling in here before.”
“He’s a unique breed,” volunteered Trixie. “A Feral Southern Shortear, as Trixie understands. Not very bright, but quite loyal when trained properly. Come here and sit. Sit! Let the nice vet look you over.”
The jail cell was looking better every minute, but the changeling sat where directed and allowed the vet to poke and prod places on his body which had never really been poked or prodded in that way before. The vet seemed to warm during her in-depth examination, even if she did not get to the depths she seemed to want because he kept his tail tightly clamped to his rear every time she moved behind him.
“He’s a lot softer than I thought, but he’s a stubborn one,” said the vet while peering into his mouth. “You do a good job with his teeth, though. What does he eat?”
Nosy veterinarians.
“I’ve kept him to a strict vegetarian diet, mostly grasses and baked goods with lots of pine cones to eat so he stays regular,” explained Trixie, who seemed to be enjoying the changeling’s examination with as much pleasure as could be possibly concealed behind the occasional smirk. “Although on occasion, Trixie likes to give him a little treat to reward good behavior. Behold!”
With a quick gesture of a bare hoof, Trixie made a pass under the changeling’s nose and a sugar cube appeared, seemingly out of thin air.
“Now watch. Trixie will put it on the end of his nose, and he won’t even touch it until I give the— Hey!”
One of the advantages of being in his natural form was he got to use his natural tongue. One quick twitch later, the sugar cube vanished, and he crunched happily along while putting on the most innocent face he could manage.
“That’s… vaguely creepy,” said the vet, still holding onto the forgotten tongue depressor.
“Yeah.” Trixie blinked once before resuming her composure, just as if she had not just been licked across the hoof. “They’re very popular among the female feral changelings.”
“I’ll bet.” The vet finally dropped the tongue depressor into the trash and went to wash her hooves. “He’s a really impressive specimen. Would you like a collar for him? Only twenty bits.”
“Twenty—” started Trixie with an indication of growing ire.
“It would help other ponies not panic when they see him, as well as give a spot to put his tags” said the vet rather cheerfully while picking a collar off the display board. “And a leash for another fifteen.”
Trixie did not say anything out loud, but she grumbled under her breath in a way that made the changeling think of a volcano about ready to erupt.
“Great,” said the vet while putting the items down on the table. “Let me just get his shots out of the way and we’re good.”
“Shots?” grumbled Trixie. “I thought you could just give him one and save some bits.”
“I’m really not sure what to give him for immunizations,” admitted the vet, “but we have a number of general-purpose shots to prevent anything which he might catch from ponies, as well as shots for the usual distemper, rabies and sup.”
“Sup?” Trixie looked up with a sharp frown. “What’s sup?”
“Not much, what’s up with you?” The vet giggled while poking the first needle through the changeling’s thin chitin, and the injector gave out a little chunking noise. It was almost painless, but after three or four of them, Trixie gave out a low groan and clutched her cape where the changeling presumed she kept her empty bit pouch. “Almost done, that’s a good boy. Here you go.”
The vet slipped a small treat into his mouth and went over to the counter where she started to fill out a form. “Looks like it’s going to be one hundred and sixteen bits.”
Now it was Trixie’s turn to whine while looking at the changeling. Since he was supposed to be playing dumb, he imitated her whine right back at her. Once he had finished chewing the last of the peanut butter flavoring out of the little pet treat, of course.
After a period of mutual whining, Trixie rolled her eyes and declared, “One of the advantages of having a trained feral changeling is his utility. Trixie uses him to carry her bits. He has been a very good guardian of Trixie’s money.”
Oh!
The changeling got the bit pouch from around his neck and began to slide bits across the table. A hundred more bits would not break him, but it would bend his cash reserves something fierce. He was about half-way done silently counting out bits when he realized he was supposed to be an animal, so he just kept pushing bits across the table until the vet chuckled. “You can stop now, little fellow.”
Trixie managed a scolding tone while separating out the correct number of bits from the pile on the table plus a five bit tip, then began to push the meager remains of the changeling’s funds back into the small bag.
“Nice ‘pet’ you have there,” said the vet.
Yes, but she’s not very well trained.
“He has been very well trained by Trixie, but unfortunately is unable to count past four.” She pulled the drawstring tight and floated the bit bag over to the changeling, who quickly put it around his neck before she found another way to deplete his cash reserves.
“You’re going to need a name for the tags.” The vet moved over to a niche in the office where an engraving machine lurked and sorted through a number of small aluminum tags. The changeling looked over at Trixie with a raised eyebrow ridge and a questioning expression, which Trixie duplicated in response almost perfectly, as if he was looking into a mirror. The vet managed to catch their mutual expressions when she turned around and chuckled again as they both promptly looked away from each other. “He’s an expressive cutie, ma’am. Looked like he was wanting to ask you a question.”
“He does that a lot,” said Trixie. “I call him… Question because he’s so curious. Quest for short.”
“Catchy.” The vet clipped a little aluminum tag into the machine and engraved for a while before bringing the completed tag back and dropping it on the counter. “That should about do it, unless you want a tracking charm for his collar.”
Trixie narrowed her eyes. “How much?”
“Well, if he’s really a pet, you’d want to be able to track him if he runs away. Twenty bits.”
“Fifteen,” snapped Trixie.
“Twenty,” replied the vet with a wink. “And I won’t say a word about how he’s reading the posters on the wall.”
The changeling twitched in surprise from where he had been reading a gruesome poster about the value of a good worming, then lowered his head and got out his bit pouch.
The vet smiled and added, “Cheer up, little guy. It could be worse.”
The newly-named ‘Question’ put his bit pouch on the table again and looked up into her smiling face. At least the emotions coming off the vet were happy ones, but then again, she was a rather odd pony who dealt with non-ponies every day. She did not feel as if she were just biding her time in order to turn them in, which would make the vet the second pony he had met in as many days who was at least a little acceptive to his true self. Still, he did not want to press his luck by saying anything, so instead, he simply whined a little with an upward chirp at the end to make the sound seem a little questioning.
The vet just grinned and shook her head while counting out the bits for the tracking charm.
“Normally, this is the point where I ask the pet owner if they want their pet spayed or neutered.”
Trixie grunted. “How much would that be?”
Question kicked her in the ankle.
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You know, once you name a stray, you never get rid of it.
Blackmail is such an ugly word
I just love how you write interactions between characters like this. It's just so easy to get caught up in the moment.
Speaking of pets, we adopted a cat yesterday. He's a real cutie.
7494064 And guess how we got 90% of our cats?
Aside, Changeling pet? I'd get one. Perfectly happy with just letting you dote on them, doesn't make a mess and already housebroken.
Thanks for the update!
7494120
Considering the ability to change genders at will, is it even possible to spay/neuter a changeling? A more important question is would you risk life and limb trying to do it?
(I'm sorry! I was watching something and this spilled onto the screen...)
(Ok, I'm not really sorry)
Quest should have kick the veterinarian, no male wants to have their balls chop off.
Well, good to see a few ponies outside of Ponyville are willing to be open-minded about changelings. The performance may do a lot for improving relations between the two species... if Trixie can keep the audience from stampeding the moment they see her fellow performer. This con will be tricky, but well worth it if it pays off.
Of course, that raises the question of whether Trixie well ever be able to pay off that loan...
7494064
But what happens if she comes with a name already?
You wanted her to be roaming around town with a Manticore that can eat her whole accidentally, instead?
7494064
Especially cats and dogs. They're just too adorable to let go.
Okay now this chapter was funny.
Makes sense.
This veterinarian knows how to make a bit, it seems.
Oh, and she's also no fool. Heh.
Quest should get Trixies shape to get more love XD
She seems to have forgotten the fourth shot: rim.
reactiongifs.com/r/animal.gif
I love when I think of something incriminating before I even finish the sentence, and then the character thinks of it right afterward and does something perfect to defuse it.
Please kiss now.
Ooh, so the vet's in on it now. This can only go hilarious places.
This is why I love Trixie. She is FULL of jokes.
Quest is gonna hate life now. Are you sure there won't be a domination tag later? XD
I put this into tracking earlier. But with this chapter and especially the very last part.
Insta fav!
-BFBL
I'm not certain if this is implying that she's been arrested or if this is a joke about her having another occupation. But that might be my own dirty mind at work.
Doesn't have a closing quotation mark.
7495752 It does now.
7495501 I wasn't going to get *that* specific with what Trixie was supposedly arrested for.
7494896 She makes a perfect straight mare. Because she likes stallions. But not in that way. Next question, please.
7494879 You have no idea how many years I've worked to get that gag into a fic.
7494694 Trixie is in shape. Round is a shape.
7494273 If the pet comes with a name, it belongs to somepony else. Send it back. Oh, we have six kittens if you want a couple. Or six.
7494229 They can just change shape, not regenerate.
7494120 7494086 Would you two like another couple of kittens?
i love it
End of the chapter had me chuckling for quite some time!
7495822 I actually meant that I thought she'd been invited as an exotic dancer to an after-hours cop party. But in retrospect that was just silly.
7495822
Huh. I wonder who Trixie belongs to.
EVERYBODY!
7496242 And for those who didn't get that:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XNtTEibFvlQ
7496190 If Trixie had a charisma stat it'd be maxed out PLUS 10.
She just rolls 1's on all her saves. 
7495822
Will Trixie use Question to troll anyone? Maybe Twilight? Rainbow? A random royal guard?
I was laughing hard, especially at the end, Quest sure is in an adventure, but i'm sure our Trix will have her fair share too
7495822 Afraid my living situation doesn't really allow for pets at the moment, otherwise I'd be more than happy to take one.
Trixie leaves the office to go to the little fillies' room.
Vet: "So, Question, is she actually spending your money?"
He nods hesitantly.
"Does she walk you around on a leash?"
Another nod.
"Make you do her laundry?"
A nod.
"Drag you Celestia knows where all over Equestria?"
Nods again.
"Does she make you... sleep on the ground?"
He nods emphatically.
She grins slyly and shakes her head.
"What a pity!"
She licks her lips and leans close.
"Wouldn't you rather have a secure home and a... mistress that treats you... better?"
Question scratches his head, then shakes it vehemently, looking perplexed.
"What,"he says,"and quit Show Business?"
Woot, comics reference.
7494086 Agreed. The rich characterisation in the dialogue reminds me of Buggy and the Beast, which isn’t surprising considering its author.
7496587
Welcome to married life.
To mangle an old saying: If Trixie owes a changeling 10 bits, that's Trixie's problem. If Trixie owes a changeling 200 bits, that's the changeling's problem.
7496764 GG.
And he dies in 10 seconds flat from the fatal anaphylactic reaction resulting from getting serums meant for mammalian species.
Worst... vet... ever!
Should have gone to a BIOLOGIST, like me!
Well... ok, not me. I'd have squished the cherngelerng and sprayed him with DDT.
You just know that's the vet's favourite joke that she uses at every opportunity.
Dangit Trixie.
Does she know..?
7495966 Sethisto.
7505347
Biology in Equestria makes no sense. Like, how the buck did bird-horses evolve?
Sigh. I like a good pun, but that was just sad.
Lol