Danger Than Fiction, or, Pony Pony Literature Club, or, Take a Look, You're in a Book, or, Four Nerds and an Alcoholic (Who Is also a Nerd), or, Virtue Rewarded

by insaneponyauthor

Limited Special Collector's Edition Bonus Chapter

Author's Note:

This is a draft for a story segment that was wryten by Writt written by Wryte. She finished a beginning and ending, but personal issues forced her to abandon the draft before she could figure out how to bridge the segments. But I agree with her that even in its incomplete state, this is worth a few chuckles.

This was supposed to be a followup to JapaneseTeeth’s first segment of the story, picking up immediately after Captain Ahab’s introduction. As this fragment is no longer compatible with the story-as-published, clearly this part is 100% canon, and the entire rest of the story is an elaborate fever dream.

“Psst! Moonie!” Minuette said, quite loudly. “Tha’ guy’sh got, godda, godda tooth fer a horn!”

“Yes, he does,” Moondancer agreed. Minuette was very observant like that.

“D’you know what tha’ meansh?” the blue pony said, grinning ear to ear.

Moondancer shook her head, then remembered how to stop. “Uh uh.”

“It meansh, it meansh, it meansh it meanshitmeanshitmeansh…” Minuette said, leaning closer and more heavily on Moondancer with reach rapid repitition, her conspiratorial smile ever-widening. “...what’re we talkin’ ‘bout?”

“What it means that that guy’s got a horn for a tooth. Tooth for a hoof. Horn. He’s got a horn for, no, a horn for a, no, tooth for a… face-point.”

“Ooooooh,” said Minuette, slapping a forehoof to her forehead. “It means he’sh a narwhal!”

“He’s not a narwhal, idiot,” grumbled Lemon Hearts. “‘s got flippers.”

“No, no, I think Minnie’s right,” Moondancer pondered. “I read somewhere that narwhals’ horn is just a tooth. That means, if he’s got a tooth for a horn…”

“Then he’s a narwhal!” Lyra exclaimed. “Narwhals, narwhals, swimming in the ocean, causing a commotion, ‘cause...” Suddenly she gasped and grabbed the grizzled old seapony’s face in her hooves, staring intensely into his eyes. “Thank you for stopping Colthulu eating we.”

“I’m no banacle-blasted narwhal, ye daft bint!” the seapony barked, smacking Lyra’s hooves away.

Moondancer’s train of thought finally arrived in the station. “No, I’m pretty sure Minuette’s right,” she said. “A narwhal’s horn is in actualalalalality a specialized tooth. An’ you’ve got a tooth for a horn. QED. RPG. AB. C. Ooo-tray act-fey.”

“I know ‘bout tooths,” Minuette said happily from her position lying flat on her back on the deck of the ship.

“Well, those are some rather fancy-soundin’ acronyms,” the seapony conceded. “I suppose it’s true what they say,” he said, walking to the railing. “Ye either die the hero, or live to see yourself become a narwhal.”

Solemnly he stared down into the water far below, lost in existential contemplation, until he saw his reflection, and his eyes widened.

“NARWHAL!” he exclaimed, drawing his harpoon and leaping over the side. “FROM TARTARUS’ COLON I STAB AT--”

Splash.

“Guess it’s mine, then,” Minuette giggled, retrieving the doubloon from the mast. “BARTENDER! ‘nother round!”

* * *

“Spiced rum!” Lyra exclaimed, then frowned. “Er, spice something, anyway. I’m suuuuper sorry I didn’t bring you guys any, but the nice stallion in the gimp suit is only giving away the first one for free!”

“Where’ve I heard that before,” Moondancer pondered. “Washn’t… washn’t a good place… Oh my shparkling twilightsh, Lyra, I think that’s drugsh! Whatever you do, don’t-”

“She already drank it,” said Lemon Hearts.

“I can calculate the gravitronical trajectory of the sun for the next hundred seasons using only fifleventy percent of my brain,” Lyra said, staring blankly ahead. At least, everypony thought she was staring blankly ahead. It was hard to tell now that her eyes had turned a solid blue.

“Lyra,” said Minuette, whispering so the whole street could hear again, “Your eyesh are bluuuuuuuue.”

“Nuhthey’renah,” Lyra scoffed. “M’eyes’re yellow. Bonnie say’re like her own pers’nal sunrise when I open ‘em inna morning an’ omigosh I jus’ love her so much an’ I miss her an I don’ even care ‘bout the stupid towels anyway an’ I gotta let her know how much I care which is all the way, except about the towels, ‘cause I don’ care if they’re floral or faunal or chocolate chip cookie pattern but maybe not that last one ‘cause then I’ll be hungry every time I get outta the shower.

“SPIKE! Take a letter!” she demanded, clapping a hoof on Lemon Heart’s shoulder.

“I ain’ no Spike,” Lemon Hearts sneered. “I look like I got alla purple on me, an’ spikes ‘n’ shit? I look like I’m three-hands nothin’ followin’ a hoity-toity diva with stupid hair around with hearts in my eyes? Huh? Huh?!”

Lyra blinked her all-blue eyes and turned to Moondancer without taking her hoof off of Lemon Hearts. “Twilight, Spike’sh bein’ a little dick..”

“I’m not Twilight,” Moondancer said. “I’m Moondancer.”

“Ooooh, I wondered who dyed your mane. Lemony, why didn’t you say something? Now I gotta invent phones with my superbrain so I can call Bonnie and tell her ‘bout the towels!”

Towels. What an odd thing to keep going on about, Moondancer thought while Lemon Hearts started thwacking Lyra with her saddlebag. Why in the world would Lyra keep going on about towels? Unless of course… it was a hidden message! But what could it mean? Towels, towels… this world seemed to be a massive desert. There would be little use for towels here. Not like the world they had come from. By announcing that she didn’t care about the towels, was Lyra declaring her satisfaction with the desert? But she had kept trying to talk to Spike, too. Towels and Spike, what was the connection?

Of course! If the “L” in “towels” was changed to an “R,” and the “S” moved to the end of “Spike,” you were left with towers and pikes! A siege, perhaps? But hse had wanted Spike to send a message. Spike used his fire to transmit scrolls. His fire came from his mouth, which was in his head.

Heads on pikes atop the tower! Just like the infamous villain, Vlad the Impala, the fiendish gazelle who betrayed his country to become a vampon! Gasp! Moondancer thought. Lyra is warning that one of us is a vampony! It must be Lemon Hearts! But no, Lyra confirmed that she wasn’t Spike. Therefore…

Moondancer looked warily between Minuette and Twinkleshine. It has to be one of them. But how to catch a monster?

“Hey, Moonie?” Couldja hold my compact for a shecond?” Minuette said. “I gotta look inna mirror, I feel like I got shomethin’ in my perfectly flat teeth.”

“Ooooomigosh you guys, all this sunshine is soooooooo nice,” Twinkleshine moaned. “All this sun beating on my fur is soooo relaxing, like warm garlic bread. Omigosh, we should go to Olive Garden and get unlimited breadsticks, you guys! And also more wine!”

Indeed, it could be either of them! Moondancer had to consult with Lyra.

“They way kumquats were invented in Denmarek,” she said, hoping her code wasn’t too obvious.

Lyra just kept holding Minuette’s compact in her teeth. Moondancer gasped. Lyra’s silence said it all. But of course, how better to hide as a vampony than to pit your pursuers against themselves to keep them too busy suspecting each other instead of you, the one who alerted them to the possibility of your presence in the first place! It was fiendishly brilliant!

Comments

[Sollace]

Lyra the Vampone!

That was great. It's a shame it couldn't be included in the fic proper.

[FanOfMostEverything]

A deep shame this couldn't be included. Lyra the Fremen (Frepon?) would've been amazing. Thanks for the look at the cutting room floor.