Broken Cookie Cutters

by Jake Witt

Booty-ful 2/2

Author's Note:

It occurred to me that I wrote her smaller than planned.

My situation is getting worse and worse.

I agreed to attach my head to the open part of my lower back and I was forced to have a new job since I could never get back into acting. The job is simple: run as fast as my two can run, move a conveyor belt, and watch as ponies start wrapping chocolate bars.

When my shift is over, I don’t hail a taxi. Nopony can see me and those who do treat me like a freak of nature. I guess I would, too, if I saw a pony with only two legs... TWO LEGS THAT CAN OUTRUN EVERYONE.

I don’t know if it’s my constant forward lean or my decrease in weight; I can out run anypony on the ground, especially animal control. Why do they keep calling animal control on me?!

I actually found fun in this hopeless situation; speeding ahead of animal control, bouncing off walls and carriages, and just being an overall speed freak.

Today I returned to my apartment but stopped when I saw Scribble Script. I climbed up the tiny stairs I commissioned, startling the poor guy.

“Center Stage?! What happened to you?!” He cried, holding me up.

“Please put me down. Like, now. On the stairs or in front of my door. Just put me down.” I said quickly, kicking my hooves. He put me down on my steps where I jumped into the pot that once held a plant, unlocking the door. I ran down the steps and into the apartment, signaling Scribble to enter.

“What happened to you?” He asked again, turning on the lights.

We sat on my couch and I pulled out a box of cookies from my coffee table, “I pulled myself back together.”

“I’m serious... your a head on your rear! I think the doctors messed you up worse than you were!”

I looked up at Scribble, “I’m undergoing a gem growth program and this was the fastest option.”

“But you look like a freak!”

“Wow. Rude much? I think I look booty-ful... provided I don’t question how I breathe or where these cookies go.” I hopped onto the table, pulled out a lemon square, and returned to the couch with my prize. “The only thing wrong about this is that I’m a legal little pony, I have little pony needs, and everyone is a butt because I’m a literal butt with a head and legs.”

“S-sorry. Ugh. This wouldn’t have happened if I never got that role!”

“Actually I’m pretty sure another pony would break me. It was the fault of the safety manager not checking the mat for tampering. In fact, it could be anyone’s fault but it wasn’t yours.”

“Are you sure?” Looking up at his face, I couldn’t take the image seriously. He looked like some big foal.

“Positive. Besides, my only problem is how much I can hold.” I picked up the other half of my lemon square and let it fall again. “I can’t hold any dishes, hold anything hot, nor anything bigger than what I’ve stuffed in drawers around my apartment. If you want, I would like a helping hoof?”

“Sure.”

“Good, because I can’t wash my dishes.” He made a guilty face like he wanted to say no but felt obligated to stay. I rolled my eyes, “How about this: you wash my dishes and I can show you what else I can do.”

“Umm...”

“Parkour. I mean parkour.”

Scribble’s brow rose, “How does ‘I can show you what else I can do’ translate to parkour?”

“How does it not? I’m half the pony I used to be and-“ Suddenly my door burst open as Animal Control got out their stun prongs. I got up, tossed my lemon quarter at the first guy, front flipped off my couch, slid across my coffee table, and out the window. I ran down the fire escape, leaping off the railing with a clothes line in my mouth, and rolling down a set of stairs at the other fire escape, and ran deeper into the alley.

Animal Control positioned outside were hot on my hooves, flying low with nets to catch me. My night was getting better and better as I made myself glow bright enough to daze them long enough to climb on a dumpster and onto one of the Pegasus. I held tight on his left wing, allowing him to crash into his buddy.

I rolled off the other guy, bouncing off the nearest wall and bracing for a landing with my head between my hooves. I then rolled down the alley before reorienting myself and continued my sprint where I made a left down the sidewalk. The Animal Control carriage came out of nowhere, the small monsters and animals removing the element of surprise as I dodged the first net and bit down on the second sticking out behind it. I kicked my hooves back then forward as I let go... AND I STICK THE LANDING!

I begin to run but I forgot about the other two Animal Control Pegasi, who caught me in a dark cage. “Wow. I have to give you guys credit for how well you hid that!”

“The buck?!”

“Did that thing just talk?”

I pressed my face against the cage, “And this thing can sue for attemptive kidnapping, harassment, and assault. I’m not an expert on law but I assume there’s something against attacking a cripple.”

“Well shoot, Pound Puppy!” One guy said, worried.

Pound Puppy pushed his partner, “You just said my name, Rover Wrangler! Now I’ll be targeted!”

I fidgeted in place, “You could let me go and tell your friends to fix my door... Okay, I’ll sue for those damages no matter how we work things out.”

I was startled from the sound of metal bashing pony bodies out of the way. Scribble Script put down his metal pipe, opening my cage to set me free. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” I said, crystallizing... pink? I’m blue! Where’s the- okay I shouldn’t deny it. He’s hot.

He lowed down and I got on his back, “If it’s alright; I’m taking you home tonight. I just cannot let you sleep in that apartment.”

“Okay,” I muttered. He began his galloping as I rode, not towards the sunset but down a street lit path.

---

Update: Broken Heart was caught and sentenced life in prison.

Update: Manehattan Animal Control were sued ten thousand bits in damages among other charges.