• Published 25th Jun 2017
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Horseradish - Unwhole Hole



The Cutie Mark Crusaders discover a horseradish. Hi-jinks ensue.

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Chapter 7: Sweetie Belle Doesn’t Live with Rarity

By this point in the day, the Cutie Mark Crusaders were breathing hard and sweating. The activity that they had been performing had been quite rigorous, although all of them- -and as far as they could tell, the horseradish as well- -had enjoyed it.

Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo looked at each other and smiled, and then crossed the Ponyville badminton court to the other side where the horseradish and Applebloom were standing. All had undergone a costume change, and were wearing the proper attire for badmintoning. Sweetie Belle felt like her sister would have fainted at range if they had not.

“Well?” asked Scootaloo. “How’d it go?”

“Not well,” said Sweetie Belle. She looked at the horseradish, and it stared back at her. It was holding a badminton racket in a fold that Sweetie Belle assumed to be something like a mouth. “If it hadn’t been for Scootaloo, it would have been a total wash.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault,” said Scootaloo, pulling at her badminton skirt. “It’s this darn butt-funnel…”

“Yeah,” said Applebloom. “Apparently horseradishes aren’t great at racket sports.” She picked up a clip board. “Actually,” she said, looking through it, “he’s not really good at much. Moderate at swimming, I think, but only because he’s buoyant. Being a root and all.”

“It was still really fun, though,” said Scootaloo. “I mean, he’s doing his best, and he never complains, even when he loses. I mean, when we tried climbing trees? That was hilarious. Seeing a root climbing a tree. I mean, I almost spilled my lemonade.”

“Not to mention that he kind of looks totally adorable in the outfits,” said Sweetie Belle.

The horseradish seemed pleased by these comments. It did not have a face, really, but it did seem to be able to express emotions subtly.

“Well, I’m tired,” said Sweetie Belle. She looked up and saw that the sun was nearing the horizon. They had all had a long and very enjoyable day. “I think maybe we should start heading home.”

“Yeah. I really want to take a nap,” said Scootaloo. “Even if my bed is really just a dirt floor covered in old rags.”

“I wonder what the horseradish should sleep in,” mused Sweetie Belle.

“Well, that would be dirt,” said Applebloom. Her eyes suddenly widened. “Holy alicorn sandwich!” she cried. “I completely forgot about the special dirt! I haven’t even started on it yet!”

“I wonder what would be in an alicorn sandwich,” said Scootaloo.

“Twilight’s the meat. Cadence is the cheese. Luna and Celestia are the buns, but mostly Celestia. Because, you know, buns.” Sweetie Belle turned to Applebloom. “Do you have time to make the dirt tonight?”

“I think so,” said Applebloom. “If I switch around a few of the wood products and stop to get some nettle tea…yeah. I think I can do that.”

“Well, then the horseradish only has to stay with Scootaloo for one more night.”

“No!” cried Applebloom. “She’ll bruise it!”

“I wouldn’t,” said Scootaloo. “But I can’t tonight! Rainbow Dash is having me for dinner!”

“I didn’t know Rainbow Dash was into that sort of thing,” said Applebloom.

“Really?” said Sweetie Belle, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s cool that she lets you stay overnights with her.”

“She doesn’t. I’m going to hide in her closet and watch her sleep. If I’m lucky, I can cut off some hair. I’m making a wig.”

“O…kay? That’s totally normal and not obsessive at all.”

Applebloom turned to Sweetie Belle. “Then what are we going to do with the horseradish? I can’t take him home, not with how close we barely got to getting caught the last time!”

“I’ll do it,” said Sweetie Belle. “It’s not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll just stay at Carousel Boutique.”

“But won’t Rarity find out?”

“Rarity’s not home. She’s in Manehattan visiting Coco Pommel. She won’t be back for almost a week. Plus, my parents don’t know she’s gone because they’re pretty dense.”

“Just like Scootaloo.”

“What?” asked Scootaloo, clearly not understanding what they meant.

“Are you sure, though?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine. You just go work on the soil, and Scootaloo, enjoy your dinner and don’t fall out of Rainbow Dash’s house this time.”

“It’s not my fault the floor is made out of clouds,” muttered Scootaloo.

“Come on,” said Sweetie Belle to the horseradish. “Let’s see if I can’t get you back to my sister’s house without getting arrested.”



By the time Sweetie Belle entered Ponyville, the sun had set and the moon had risen. In part, this was because she knew that most ponies went to bed relatively early to prevent themselves from being eaten by monsters and such. It was also in part because Ponyville could be surprisingly large when it wanted to, and her stubby filly legs were not able to move her terribly quickly through the streets.

She hardly noticed the time, though. On the way back, she had initially been silent, but over time had started speaking to her tuberous companion. This had started out as mostly small talk, but it had quickly involved into things far more personal.

“And sometimes I feel like no one cares,” she said. “Like, right now. Do my parents know where I am? No, of course not. And they don’t care. They just assume I’m at Rarity’s. But they don’t even care enough to, you know, make sure she’s actually here. It’s like they just don’t pay attention. And Rarity is the GOOD daughter!”

She looked up at the horseradish, and it looked back. It did not have the capacity to talk, and Sweetie Belle was not sure if it could even understand what she was saying, as it only seemed to understand a few simple words. Still, she continued, though. There was no pony else that she could talk to about these things.

“And that’s kind of the problem too. I mean, Rarity’s a great sister, but where does that leave me? He’s an Element of Harmony, friends with the Princess, she has a successful business…and what do I have? Two real friends and a clubhouse?” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t even get my cutie mark until I was already eleven. And I figured that as soon as I had it, everything would make sense. But it doesn’t. Knowing what you’re supposed to do doesn’t make you good at it, you know? There’s still a lot of hard work. A lifetime of it. It just seems so big, and sometimes…sometimes I don’t feel up to it.”

Sweetie Belle was stopped as she suddenly felt a pair of root-legs around her. As strange as it felt, she immediately realized that she was being hugged. The horseradish may not have understood her- -or maybe it had- -but it seemed to know what she was feeling. Being hugged by bizarre-smelling root was odd, but Sweetie Belle only then realized that it was exactly what she needed. She hugged back, and the horseradish seemed to become warmer and more sweet-smelling, as though it had wanted a hug as well for its own impenetrable reasons.

“Aww,” said Sweetie Belle. “No wonder Scootaloo liked you so much.”

When the hug was completed, Sweetie Belle led the horseradish two more blocks to where Carousel Boutique stood. She entered, taking the somewhat hesitant radish in with her.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I know it smells weird in here, but that’s normal. Like new fabric and marshmallows. Which is weird, because Rarity doesn’t even eat them. She says they go to her hips, which is totally not even true. I eat like four bags a day.”

The horseradish, confused, poked at Sweetie Belle hips. There was some jiggling involved, and Sweetie Belle laughed. “Stop that, it tickles!”

Just then, as Sweetie Belle was secretly hoping that the horseradish went in for another poke, there was a knock on the door. Sweetie Belle and the horseradish immediately froze. They looked at each other.

“Who…who would be there this late?”

There was another knock, this time louder. Then it progressed to pounding. By this time, Sweetie Belle started to panic. They had found her out- -and now they were coming to find her. They would take the horseradish, and they would throw her in the castle dungeon. All color- -not that there was much, she was a white unicorn after all- -drained from her face. They would surely do terrible things to her, like depriver her of cake, spray her with delousing powder, or nail horseshoes to her hooves- -or even worse. They might even use the RACK.

Panicking, Sweetie Belle looked around. She had to hide the evidence of her guilt. They had no doubt already captured Applebloom and Scootaloo, and had likely tortured Scootaloo quite extensively. They had squealed on her. But if she hid the evidence, she thought, she would be okay.

Looking around, she saw a large pot. It did not have dirt or anything of the sort, but in her panic, Sweetie Belle picked up the horseradish and dropped it in. It righted itself immediately, peaking its head out of the top. Sweetie Belle shoved it down so that only its leaves were sticking out of the pot.

“Stay down!” she hissed.

The thudding on the door got louder, and suddenly it burst in with a plume of blue light. Sweetie Belle screamed.

“I’m just a filly!” she cried in an octave so high that somewhere else in Ponyville both Winona and Fluttershy started barking. “I only just got my cutie mark, I’m too young for a rack! I’M TOO YOUNG!”

As she sat terrified and shaking, Rarity walked through the now badly damaged door.

“I really must get Big Macintosh to fix my hinges,” she sighed. Then she paused. “Actually…I wonder if I could make him wear an appropriate costume while he does it…” She grinned, but then noticed Sweetie Belle. “Sweetie Belle!” She cried. “What- -what are you doing in my house? I didn’t say you could be here!”

“R…Rarity?”

“You came in here to touch my things, didn’t you!”

“No, I- -hey, wait a minute! You’re supposed to be in Manehattan all this week!”

“Well, I, yes, but- -” Rarity sputtered for a moment. “Well, I had to leave early!”

“Why?”

“Well, you know. My little Pommel horse has such a fragile constitution, and our…ahem…activities took a toll on her. So I came back.” She paused. “Actually, I should make her something. You’ve been violating my possessions, do I still have that darling sheer fabric and the lace?”

“Yes,” said Sweetie Belle, knowing exactly where it was.

“Oh, splendid” Rarity walked past Sweetie Belle, but as her hooves squished along the carpet she paused. “Um…Sweetie Belle, darling, why is the floor wet here?”

“Because you scared me! I thought you were the 5-O!”

“Darling, they prefer to be called ‘guard-hunks’. And why would you think that?” She leaned in close. “What did you do? Did that Scootaloo put you up to it? She did, didn’t she! Remember, if she asks to touch your horn- -”

“She didn’t ask to touch my horn! Nopony ever asks to touch my horn…”

“Well, if you didn’t eat so many marshmallows, they probably would.”

“Are you…are you saying I’m heavy?”

“No, darling, I’m saying your fat.”

“Well that’s mean.”

“No it isn’t. We’re sisters, so it’s okay.”

“Well, then, at least I don’t smell like apples.”

Rarity suddenly looked nervous. “I don’t either,” she said. “And if I do, it’s only because before I left I had Big Macintosh here to model some frilly pant…” Rarity trailed off as she sniffed the air. “Actually, that’s not apples at all…it smells…odd.” She sniffed again. “Sweetie Belle, are you wearing perfume?”

“Um…yes?” Sweetie Belle replied nervously, because she knew the smell that Rarity was detecting. She had grown used to it, but Rarity had not. Rarity was smelling the scent of horseradish.

“Well, it’s a poor choice. Two few undertones. If you want to impress that little Apple girl, you need to go with something more fruity with a strong spice element and hints of musk. Trust me, it works AMAZING on the Apples.” Her face scrunched and she cleared her throat. “On Big Macintosh, I mean. Certainly. Not Applejack at all, I wouldn’t know ANYTHING about that.”

“I’m- -I’m not that kind of pony!” cried Sweetie Belle, blushing.

“Darling, our population is eighty six percent female. We are ALL that kind of pony. Except Rainbow Dash, oddly enough.”

“Oh,” said Sweetie Belle, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. “Well, Scootaloo will be disappointed.”

“Half of Equestria will be disappointed,” sighed Rarity. “Oh, the dresses I could make with her as a model…” She paused, and her eyes went to the pot in which the horseradish was sitting. “That’s odd,” she said. “I don’t recall putting a plant here.”

“You don’t? Oh, well, you did. It’s always been there! Definitely!”

“It is?” Rarity seemed confused. “It doesn’t look like something I would add. It doesn’t match the décor at all…although a plant probably would be welcome near the outer perimeter. Although these leaves…” She touched one with her magic, and the whole plant shook in response. Sweetie Belle bit her lower lip, knowing that if Rarity found out, it was a one-way trip to the dungeon. “But these leaves are just so…coarse.”

Her eyes lit up, and she released the plant. Sweetie Belle gave a huge sigh of relief- -until Rarity came back with a pair of scissors.

“It just needs to be pruned a little bit,” she said.

“NO!” cried Sweetie Belle, pulling the scissors out of her magic just as she started to close them around one of the stems.

“SWEETIE BELLE!” cried Rarity. “What has gotten into you? We do not grab in this house! We ask, and say ‘please’. I will never have nieces if you keep acting so rude!”

“Well- -it’s just- -you could get grass stains!”

“Grass stains?” A look of realization crossed Rarity’s face, and she jumped back from the plant. “Sweet Celestia in a velour corset!” she cried, “you’re right! I almost STAINED myself! I- -I could have had GREEN on my immaculate, white coat!” She patted all over her body, trying to find if she really had stained herself. “And they’re so hard to get out!” She then started to trot away. “I’m going to take a baking soda bath, just to make sure!” She paused. “You can join me, if you want.”

“Um, no.”

“Fine. But do something to wash that perfume off. You stink. Also, you’re sweating like an earth-pony. Do something about that. ”

Sweetie Belle just continued to smile and watched Rarity leave. Then, when she was finally gone, she collapsed into the pool of sweat that had been forming below her. “Gahhh,” she said, watching the horseradish poke its head out of the pot it was sitting in. “The things I do for friends…”



That night, long after Sweetie Belle had gone to bed and after Rarity had fallen asleep in the bathtub- -inadvertently assuring that she would be slightly shrunken and highly pruned when she woke up in the morning- -the horseradish crept downstairs.

As a plant, it did not sleep, nor did it understand what sleep even was. In fact, it did not really have the capacity to understand anything, at least not in any way that that would even be comprehensible to a pony. It was devoid of true thought, but capable of volition on some level. Knowing what it was thinking- -or IF it was thinking- -was impossible.

Despite not being alive in an animal sense, though, the horseradish was empirically curious. It wandered down to Rarity’s kitchen, where it immediately came face-to-face with a dark colored stallion who was pinching a loaf right in the middle of the room.

“Um, you didn’t see this,” said the stallion, jumping down off the table and picking up the loaf of pumpernickel in his mouth. He then leapt out an open window into the night.

The horseradish had no conception of whether this was normal or not, and continued on its way. It stopped in front of Rarity’s Frigidmare brand refrigerator. It was new and shiny, and this greatly attracted the horseradish’s attention. It stared at the shiny surface for at least five minutes before reaching for the handle.

When it opened it, a bright light spilled out into the darkened kitchen. The horseradish was momentarily dazzled, but its eyes adapted after a few seconds and it looked up at the contents of the icebox.

If the horseradish truly had the capacity for horror, this emotion immediately swept over it at the sight that greeted it on the other side. There, before it, were numerous plates of food: it saw plates of carrots, their skin peeled away and their taproots sliced into little circles, as well as to large glass jars of pickled beets, each containing what seemed like tens of roots immersed in deep red fluid.

The worst, though, was at the bottom. The horseradish was only inches away from a box that contained potato salad. It shook as it stared into the box, seeing potatoes that had been dismembered and slathered in white colored liquid. This entire refrigerator was filled with filled with murdered and chopped roots.

It took a step back, shaking, not understanding how its friends could have done this- -and afraid that it was next. Then, with tears in its potato-like eyes, it ran out of Carousel Boutique and into the night.




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