Nanobots

by Borg

A Filly is Born

Author's Note:

You're going to want to know that this is why I wrote this story.

Once upon a time, in the distant past when cutie marks had not yet been invented and wub zones were used only for storing food, a filly was born with a magic zapper and a pair of flutter-flappers. Her parents gazed upon her (though the midwife did not, since she had lost her pony peepers to a wolf attack in her youth) and, wrinkling their wiffermuzzles in confusion, asked each other what to make of this. So caught up were they in their debate that they did not notice when their filly made her first attempt to stand. Using her clippity-cloppers (and wiggling her parasprite whip considerably in a foalish show of concentration), she levered herself up onto her tushie, but when she tried to get her tree buckers underneath herself, all she managed was to knock herself over. When she fell, her magic zapper struck the ground, and the still-not-fully-hardened bone chipped. The only possible response to this, of course was to cry, and soon tears were streaming liberally from her pony peepers and the most pitiful of sounds were coming out of her wiffermuzzle. But her parents still had flippity-floppers only for their own debate, so she began to thrash her parasprite whip around and bang on the ground with her clippity-cloppers and her tree buckers. This finally got her mother’s attention, and she instinctually went to comfort her daughter, whose crying slowed as she latched onto her mother’s hug zone.

“Shh, shh, don’t cry, little one,” her mother crooned. “Mommy’s here now, so wipe those tears from your pony peepers.”

“Te-a,” the filly tried to imitate.

“Did you hear that?” her mother excitedly whispered while continuing to soothingly stroke her filly’s back between her flutter-flappers. “Her first word. I think we should call her Tia.”

The End.