Vacation to a Pleasant Country Retreat

by Sixes_And_Sevens

Travel and Light Entertainment Via First-Class Rail Line

It had been such a NICE day, Rarity thought with the sort of vague indignation that tends to come when something wholly unexpected occurs. She had woken up on top of Spike’s side, with one of his arms wrapped around her as though she were some sort of teddy bear. It was a terrifically comfortable position, pleasantly warm and loving. “Mmm,” she had murmured. “Awake?”

“Well, I am now,” Spike sighed, shifting slightly. “Shall I make breakfast, or do you want to stay in bed for another few minutes. Hours? All day?”

Rarity chuckled. “As lovely as that sounds, I have a few errands to run this morning, so it would be for the best if you let go now.”

Spike pouted. It was a technique he had honed to perfection over his long, artificially extended youth, but Rarity had had just as much practice resisting it. “Come on, darling,” she said firmly, squeezing out of his grip. “Time to rise and shine.”

Now, in the back of her mind, she vaguely wished that she had just shut up and snuggled up. She sort of wondered, in a half-present way, whether she would ever return to her dear Spikey-wikey. Absent-mindedly, she worried that she would be late for her appointments later on in the day.

Most of her mind, however, was occupied with screaming. “Where did all these little beasts come from?” she wailed, tossing one of the little silver creatures against its comrades, who were in a semicircle slowly closing in upon her. Two of them grabbed it and hauled it back upright, continuing to advance toward her. She glanced around frantically, but nopony was around to help her. One of the metal crabs leapt for her face at a far greater rate than she would have expected. She flinched, casting a shield spell out of instinct. It wasn’t much of a shield; it had been awhile since she’d last cast one. It was enough, however, to deflect the jumping machine, sending it shooting backwards as though struck by a tennis racket. It hit the ground with a solid smack, shattering.

Rarity smirked, but her satisfaction was short-lived. The other little crabs kept coming, leaping for her face. She screamed as she dodged, unable to focus for long enough to grab the little beasts in her magic. “Stay still, you heathens!”

Her back hoof hit a tree root, and she stumbled. It was just the advantage the crabs needed. They swarmed. The unicorn opened her mouth to scream. “Yoink!”

Rarity stopped. “Yoink?” she echoed. She realized that she could no longer feel the grass beneath her hooves. She glanced up. A pair of crossed golden eyes smiled back at her. “This isn’t my normal pickup time,” Ditzy said. “But I felt it was probably best to make a rush delivery.”

Rarity blinked, glancing back. The small group of miniature robots were scuttling aimlessly, turning slowly around. They weren’t very quick about it. “What are those things?” she asked quietly.

“No clue! They seem kinda aggressive, don’t they? Small, though, and not very coordinated. See how their legs are in rows on either side? That seriously messes with their turning time, which gives us the opportunity to do…”

The ground shook as a big red juggernaut hurtled toward the crab-bots. “Nope!” Mac roared, leaping into the air. The crabs tried to scatter, but they weren’t fast enough. Four unshorn fetlocks smashed down, making the ground quake. A forehoof gently lifted. Pieces of scrap metal fell to the ground. “Ah reckon that’s ‘bout that,” Mac said with a slight smirk.

The ground quivered yet again. Mac blinked once in surprise as there was a sudden rush of wind. Four little metal crabs stood on the ground, one for each hoof. “Ulp— Then again…” And then there was a blur of red hurtling away at a highly improbable speed.

---

There was an ear-splitting scream of steam as the 1:45 from Trottingham screeched into the station. Even that, however, was sliced open by an off key, warbling high-C. The stationmaster, Time Table, checked his watch. The face had cracked from side to side. He groaned and shoved the timepiece back into his pocket as the train finally ground to a halt.

The doors opened, and an absolute stampede of ponies rushed out. One particularly beautiful young mare was beating off an elderly yellow stallion, who was apparently trying to climb up on her back. Finally, she spun about and punched the lustful geriatric in the face. “An’ there’s more where tha’ came fra’ if ye try tha’ again!” she shouted, then turned on a hoof and trotted away.

After the madding crowd had passed, one lone, weary-looking stallion exited the first-class carriage, holding the door open. The station master stared, Nopony else was leaving the train. Cautiously, he cantered over to the stallion. “Excuse me,” he began.

The door-holder sighed. “Give her a minute,” he said in the sort of tone that can only be gained by offering the same explanation over and over again for years on end.

Time Table blinked. “Who?” he asked.

“My wife.” This was said quietly. The stallion’s head hung low, his eyes full of the sorrows of the world.

Any follow-up questions died on the stationmaster’s lips as he heard a faint noise echoing down the train, a sort of continuing chatter. “What’s that?”

The stout stallion glanced up. “I told you. My wife. Just… just be glad she’s stopped singing.”

As Time Table watched, a magenta hoof passed over the threshold and onto the platform. This was promptly followed by the rest of the body. The stationmaster could only stand in mild astonishment. She carried a sort of… je ne sais quoi, as the Prench might say. There was a sort of gravitas to her, like an ingrained belief that of all the surrounding ponies, she was the greatest of them all. “Thank you, Civil,” she said to the door-holder. “Now, where has Daddy run off to?”

“I believe he, ah, decided to have a bit of a rest on that bench,” the short stallion (Civil? Presumably) replied, waving a hoof over to where the mare-molester from earlier had passed out.

“Oh, yes, of course,” the mare said, beaming. “Poor Daddy.” She leaned over to Time Table. “He does get so easily exhausted these days, you know. Used to be in the Guard, you see. I always thought that took up so very much of his energy in his youth that he hasn’t any left to spare now!”

“He looked rather energetic getting off the train,” Time Table said diplomatically.

“Oh?” said Civil, wincing. “Not… too energetic?”

“I… no.” This was a stallion who needed a break. And possibly a few drinks. “No, not too energetic.”

Civil breathed out a sigh of relief. The mare didn’t seem to notice, as she was busily scanning the platform for other signs of life. “Now, where can they be?” she sighed in exasperation. She turned back to Time Table. “Have you seen a group of mares? My sisters were meant to be here to pick us up, you see…”

“Rose?” Civil added helpfully. “Daisy, Lily? Carrot Top, perhaps?” Civil quite liked Carrot Top. She was eminently sensible, which probably went a long ways toward explaining why his wife didn’t much care for her. Hyacinth was not usually a sensible mare.

Time Table started to shake his head, then stopped. “Wait. Your sisters are Lily, Daisy, and Rose?”

“Oh, yes. Our mother, Poppy, named us, you see. Daisy, Lily, Rose, Hyacinth, and then there’s Violet. Violet lives up in Canterlot. She’s married into nobility, you know.”

“I see.”

“Lovely mansion she has these days. Swimming pool, sauna, room for a— for a—” she frowned, thinking deeply about what exactly her sister’s mansion had room for. “For an elephant,” she concluded at length, nodding her head firmly.

“I see,” Time Table repeated, nodding slowly. He was increasingly sure that he did see; this mare was just as crazy as all three of the Flower Shop Mares put together.

“Are you certain you told them when our train would arrive, Hyacinth?” Civil asked.

“I—” The mare’s neck straightened. “I— of course I did,” she snapped. “They’re just late. Now, come along, Civil. We’ll have to unpack our luggage ourselves.”

The shorter stallion sighed, trotting along after his wife. Time Table watched them go with a mixture of pity and resignation. Four Bouquet sisters in one town? And their father? He sighed, wishing (not for the first time) that he could just leap on one of the trains running through town, escape the events of whatever this latest arrival would doubtless bring. But he had a responsibility to Ponyville and to the railway system, and Tartarus if he was going to let either of them down.

Time Table turned away from the departing couple and started back toward his office. Suddenly, something silvery-bright flashed in the very corner of his vision. “Hm?”

He glanced to the side. Something metallic and tiny was scuttling out of sight into the washroom. The stationmaster frowned, turning to trot after it.

Pulling the door open, Time Table glanced inside the room. Nothing here, nothing there— what was that? Oh. Just toilet paper. Okay. Well, maybe his mind had just been play$h46*)bR# 5

---

Some ten minutes later, Hyacinth, Civil, and Daddy exited the train station with baggage in tow. Time Table watched them go, a strangely vacant expression on his face as he waved them on. The thing in Time Table’s body glanced quickly under the desk, where the little metal creature it had been in moments before struggled against its bindings. The Time Table-thing smiled far too wide. It stopped, wincing and feeling at the sides of its face. This new body was going to take some getting used to…

Comments

[Xanderfox]

No don't tell me.. Civil Service right? Yea certinaly fits Richard perfectly, and the additude of "I love her but she's exhausting" and "I'm sorry my wife was inflicted on you"

[Sixes_And_Sevens]

9981144
I couldn't have put it better myself. I love Hyacinth's antics so much, but I'd hate to meet her in real life.

[Prince Leviathan]

Poor Richard...

Gotta love Hyacinth tho.