The Six of Us

by Online account

The Lunch

The rainbow pony approached Amy and I, full of enthusiasm. I had to play it cool lest I would cause another public scene. Had enough of that for one day.

“Oh hey! How’s it hanging?” I said, trying to be as nondescript as I could.

She knew my name; I didn’t know hers. She had the home field advantage.

“Well, could be better, frankly,” said Rainbow Incognito, her head signaling toward her busted wing.

“Oh no! What happened to your wing?” said Amy in lieu of me.

Rainbow Mare sheepishly rubbed the back of her epilepsy inducing mane. She bit her lip, possibly attacked by hints of regrets. Or was it shame?

“Ah, this ol’ thing? Um, t’was just a small accident, you know? It happens,” she nervously laughed and mumbled something. “I’d rather not get into details, m’kay?”

Agreed. The lesser we interacted, the better we were. Amy and I had no business postponing our human-to-human conversation any longer. Cyan pony over there was merely an inconvenience. Last thing I needed was for us to start chit chatting – especially when I knew squat about the lifestyle of a miniaturized horse. She could easily trap me with personal questions, to which I’d answer incorrectly, exposing my cover. We had to take her out of the equation, pronto. Some of us had a home country and a schedule to return to, you know.

“Well, I hope you recover soon,” I still offered kind words. “But on a different kind of topic... what can I do you for? You said you required my assistance, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I needed to ask you a bunch of- um, well, actually, I’d like to check out some books first?”

“Okay well, why didn’t you just, y’know, go inside the tree and do your thing? It’s a public space, you know. You don’t have to wait for a custodian or anybody to browse,” I said. Did I sound like a dick? I hoped I didn’t sound like a dick.

Something I said seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way. Yeah, maybe I’ve been too abrasive after all.

“Oh! Well, I did come inside, but I thought you were closed since no-, uh, nopony was in. ‘Sides, Twilight, I need a librarian to check stuff out, right? That’s kindaaaa how it works.”

I gulped. Don’t blow my bluff, pony! Though to be fair, if she just stole my merch, I would have been none the wiser. I oughta learn to lock the door next time – lotsa valuables to be robbed inside. The real Twilight Sparkle would be pissed at my carelessness, I presumed.

“Yes! Yes of course! Hah, you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve been pretty bamboozled lately. Right?” I nudged Amy.

“Mmm’yep. He really has.”

“He?” repeated the multicolored pony.

“HahahaHAHAHA!” I laughed like I was overdosing on cocaine. “See? That makes the two of us! Two confused ponies. Too much sun on our noggins, right? Curse you, summertime! Okay let’s go in, yes, in we go, chop chop!”

I went past my client and barged into the tree, with Amy following me whilst shrugging. Decisively, I was pretty terrible at this. Mrs. Rainbow Mane rubbed a hoof on her head, a bit confused by our neurotic behavior. But I had to try and pretend anyway. Last thing I wanted was for me to be lambasted by the local community and crucified on the gallows because I erased a trusted member of Ponyville by my existence alone. That blue pony could’ve easily gone to Ponyville’s equivalent of the FBI and have ponies in black suits snatch me away.

Eventually, she gave up, and she made her way in as well. Good. Stealth 100. Her gaze wandered across the many many books, slightly impressed by how much lecture this tree held. You could almost swear she’d never been in this place before. And maybe it was her first time in the library. I didn’t know her, so I could only speculate. She was just a modest client anyway, right? It’s not like the two of us were well acquainted, or anything. She knew my name, sure, but maybe I was, like, the sole librarian of this town. You get to know the neighborhood at some point.

Now, before anything could happen, I had to beat her to the punch. If she truly was unfamiliar with this place, then she’d logically go to me to help her find what she was looking for, or to fetch recommendations outta me. Since I had a null amount of knowledge about any of the material this library offered, I had to skedaddle out of her sight. And for that, I had a mind numbingly simple plan. I would craft a dumb excuse and kill two birds with one stone.

Sky-blue pony opened her mouth to say something, but I rudely decided to interrupt her.

“Um, I really hope this doesn’t come off as impolite, but would you excuse us for a moment? Feel free to browse, though; I just need to go upstairs and have a little private talk with Applejack.”

“Twilight,” Amy said, a tad disappointed, “how many times do I have to tell you that my name’s A-”

“APPLEJACK, yep, yep, got it, hehehehahaha!” I snorted my second daily line of coke.

I nervously pushed Amy up the stairs with my front hooves, and she complied, albeit not without a smidge of resistance. She was confused by how unhinged I was acting. I couldn’t really blame her, but it highlighted how much we needed to have that talk. It was getting harder and harder to keep everything under control.

Once again, Rainbow gave us that look. Damn, it really felt like she was two seconds away from shouting J’ACCUSE! She was ogling us the entire time we ascended up the stairs. Just before I could slam shut the bedroom door, I spotted her shrugging, and making her way to a random bookshelf. Wheew! Saved by the bell, they said.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. For a moment, I forgot that I was a horned creature, and I nearly stabbed myself. Feeling the pressure off, I greeted the floor with my bum. Amy was still on all fours, looking at me, as confused as ever. She was waiting for me to explain myself. Good kid, raised well. Letting the adults introduce the subject first.

And since I was the adult in question (allegedly), I was going to commence this little debate with rationality, calmness, and tact.

“Holy shit, that was SO FUCKING CLOSE!” I huffed out in panic.

Amy shook her head disapprovingly. I held my hooves up and pushed the air.

“I know, I know. Swear jar. Sorry.”

“Why’d you call me ‘Applejack’ downstairs?” she simply asked.

“Because- Look. I have no idea how to proceed right now. We’re both humans, right?”

Yes, she signaled.

“But they don’t know that,” I added, pointing at the door from whence we came.

No, she signaled.

“Right. So, how do you suppose these strange ponies will react if they find out our secret? Our curse?”

She tapped her chin, pensive. “They’ll probably help us, because they’re nice? Or maybe they’ll just ignore us, like the horsies- the ponies did on the farm.”

Naïve. So, so naïve, these kids. She was still at that age where the Tooth Fairy was the real deal yo. And wars could be solved by hugging it out. Newsflash, Amy: The world wasn’t this colorful paradise you thought it to be; it was a dull shade of brown.

“Wrong answer, Amy. The only right answer here is, we don’t know what they’ll do to us. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that they’ll react positively or negatively in the face of us deceiving foreigners. It's a tossup. Will they dismember us limb by limb? Will they ship us to their biolabs to scalp our brains? Will they exile us? Will they tie us to balls and chains? Or will they just scoff at the notion and leave us to our troubles? We have one life to live, Amy, and I will not gamble on it. Being ponified is still a far cry from being dead. At least, I think it is...”

She recoiled in fear at the explicit descriptions I gave. Man, she looked like an adult, it was hard to remember that under that cowgirl persona was a lassie not even in high school yet. Still, that realization raised another supportive point in my favor.

“You’re only nine years-old, soon to be ten. You have a ton of life potential ahead of you. I will not allow these freaks to circumvent it pre-emptively. We all have loved ones that’d rather see us alive than, uh, ‘gone.’ It’s our job for their sake to ensure our self-preservation. This is a tender situation right now, and we need to be extremely cautious about it.”

“W-w-why would they d-do anything l-l-like this?” she trembled under her cowboy hat.

Oops. Maybe I was a tad too alarmist for her tastes.

“Because... because I think we involuntarily stole the bodies of ponies that already existed.”

“W-what?”

“Why do you think people refer to us by names that aren’t ours? Why do total strangers wave at us like they’ve known us for years? Why did Big Mac and Apple Bloom label you as their sister? Why did that rainbow pony downstairs look for me with glee?”

Amy just breathed in and out, letting me steer that ship.

“Amy, I truly do believe that not only these bodies aren’t ours, but they belonged to two other ponies before. What happened to these ponies, I don’t have a single clue. And sadly, I don’t care much about it either. But what if families and friends find out that a pony they immensely care about is being manipulated by an intruder of a different specie? They’ll do their best to set things right, with little regards as to how we might feel about it. If anything, they’re probably part of a hateful and intolerant race running amok in disharmony.”

My interlocutor held two hooves to her mouth. “Oh no...!” she said, gasping in terror.

“Yeah, oh no indeed! And their local authorities, the Equestrian Federal Police Force or whatever, well, it’s safe to assume our wellbeing isn’t on top of their list either. We’re probably parasites to them – enemies of the state. We’re talking about a society that marks their citizens, you know!” I looked at my butt, and so too did Amy. “So until we figure stuff out, we’ll need to be very subtle and play out the fake role that’s been given to us. We cannot risk being found out until we have a clear way out. Our temporary stay in these lands must contain as few speed bumps as possible.”

Sufficiently soaked in my infectious paranoia, her head hung low, titled slightly. A short moment passed. It gave my thoughts a bit of rest to be scrambled back into place.

“S-so we have to lie to them, right?”

I nodded. “A bold way to put it, but in a nutshell? Yes.”

“Isn’t lying... bad?”

“Sometimes, a little lie can be the right thing to do.”

“Mom and dad always told me to be honest... this doesn’t feel right, Twilight.”

Was I going to tell her the Godwin example of the person housing fugitives during WW2 while a member of the SS knocked on their door, asking them if they were harboring any stowaways? The ultimate situation in which lying saved lives, proving that there could be some merit in withholding the truth at times. Then again, Amy probably hasn’t even learned of the global wars humanity went through in the 20^th century, so that was moot. Seriously though. Not being on par with honesty could be used for the greater good, as was the case with our situation. Why did she have so much trouble understanding that? It’s not like I was purposely trying to red pill her.

“None of this situation feels right, Amy,” I concluded. “But we have to do the wrong thing to do the right thing, do you understand?”

“I... I think so,” she mumbled. She still looked conflicted, but that’ll do for me.

“Good. Now, let’s figure out what happened to us. We need to recap the events that have brought us here, if we’re going to make it back to sweet mother USA.”

She acquiesced.

I went first. I retold my impossible tale, from the moment I woke up this morning, to the point where I met her. I even went far and beyond to recount my previous day, to see if the circumstances of my slumber had any worthy data in it. Rubber ducking felt good. I omitted the part where I probed my private parts; no one ever needed to hear this, let alone a child.

Amy described her situation next. She had a normal day in school. A typical Tuesday anyone her age would experience. Her parents picked her up, she was given a ride home, she had mac n’ cheese for diner, she did a bit of homework, she went outside to play with her golden retriever, she filled her coloring book some more, she watched a bit of Teen Titans Go, then she snuggled in bed after cookies and milk.

As she told me her day not without overblowing details (heh, kids, they loved the attention), it made me yearn for the simpler times. I had become so cynical as I aged. I had to; I had expenses and stress. I juggled two careers with conflicts of interest. One paid the bills and the other was a passion project. Who wouldn’t feel beaten down by our fast-paced way of life? Overall, it was a shame how you had to give up a part of yourself when you parted ways with your innocent childhood. Like, accidentally stumbling upon kid cartoons while channel surfing and going “I am arbitrarily not allowed to like this anymore.” Ah well, melancholy was a cruel mistress.

“...and then, and then, that’s when I woke up, Twilight! I woke up, and, and I was sleeping under a tree, outside. But I didn’t fall asleep outside!” continued Amy.

“I know, Amy. Like I told you, I also woke up in a different spot than my apartment. But carry on, please.”

“Okay... so, I woke up, and I was all yucky. Full of sweat, like ew, so gross!” I had the same experience; this checked out. “There were baskets full of apples next to me, and a large cart, also filled with apples, and, oh! I remember seeing a horsie running away from me when I spotted them.”

Intriguing. “Really?”

“Ya-huh! They were on the dirt path where you found me, Twilight. I tried to run after them, because- I... I don’t know. I was soooo confused. When I followed the horsie, that’s when I realized that I was ALSO a horsie, and I had trouble following the horsie, and then, and then-”

“Take it slow, Amy.”

“... then I didn’t know what to do no more. The other horsie had vanished, because I couldn’t walk or run good. It was also super early and I was still tired. So I just waited by the fence on the path – that’s where you found me, by the way. But before that, Apple Bloom came to see me, because I started crying super loud. I was crying for like, hours! It took her some time to find me.”

Memories of me shouting at Amy back in the streets of Ponyville were flowing back. I would be eternally ashamed for what I did. She deserved none of that crap. Were I her age, I would’ve given up completely. I was already weak at 22; I couldn’t imagine how quickly I would’ve abandoned hope in Amy’s shoes.

“Sorry you had to go through this. I... If it makes you feel any better, when I realized what happened to me, I also lost my marbles and bawled my eyes out. Just completely broke down for a solid ten minutes. Never felt like this before...”

“Y-you did? Oh, then I’m sorry too...” she lowered her head.

I simply smiled at her candid affection.

“Apple Bloom she... she was sad to see me sad. She was really nice with me. She was patient and kind, even when I told her I didn’t know her name. She reminded me of Corry, my little brother and- are you sure these ponies want to be mean to us, Twilight?”

“I just said that we don’t know for sure. Please, Amy, finish your story. Apple Bloom found you, then what?”

“Well, she asked if I was under some kind of spell, or curse, cuz she said I even sounded weird. She said I had a strange ‘axe scent.’ S-so I said yes, cuz I didn’t know what was happening. When she heard this, she rushed to get her brother Big Mac to watch over me, and she told me she was going to get one of my best friends to help me out: You.”

“Well, I’m flattered, heh,” I said, feeling a little burn in the cheeks. Another body response I didn’t command. Get it together, corpse of Twilight Sparkle!

Alright, seriousness regained, I couldn’t help but think back about that fleeing pony she first encountered.

“The ‘horsie’ that ran away when you woke up, was it either Big Mac or Apple Bloom?”

She shook her head. “Nope! She was a different color. I think she was a girl, at least...”

“How did she look? Did you have enough time to check her out to describe her to me?”

She pondered, pensive like a detective. “Hmmmmm. I think she had cream fur and purple hair.”

“Purple like me?” I pointed at my own fur coat.

“No, no. A little, like, redder, maybe? Oh! Violet: That’s the color!”

“Hmmm. And what else about her? Did you get to see her ass mark?”

“Twilight! It’s called a bum-bum,” she scolded me once more. “And no, I didn’t see it. Oh! But wait; she had wings, like the rainbow pony. Also, she had jewels in her hair and her tail. That’s... that’s all I remember.”

Progress was progress. We had to take crumbs of info as they came.

“Mmmh. I have no idea if it’s worth investigating, but maybe we could try to find that mysterious mare of yours. Don’t know how we’d pull that little number, but if she saw you transition from pony mind to human mind, maybe she knows something? Maybe, like, you physically flashed and your transition just frightened the snot out of her? This could get ugly if the word gets out...”

Amy had trouble parsing my crazy theory. But I was not willing to let go of the only lead we had thus far. It probably meant nothing, and I knew I was reading too far into it, but I was just so enamored with the idea of reconciling with my body... my lifeless, decomposing, soulless human body... Damn, I really hoped this library had some kind of census record with photos or something. Or maybe the townhall I saw earlier could lend a bureaucrat or two to help me identify our enigmatic guest? Having ideas was better than not having ideas.

“So, um, Twilight?”

“Yeah Amy?”

“You still haven’t told me your real name.”

That I have not. Buuuuut...

“You know what? Maybe this is for the best. This could avoid potential slips of tongue. You already said ‘he’ to me in front of that rainbow lass.”

“But Twilight, I said ‘he’ because you’re a guy, no?”

“Born as one, will die as one.” Amy cringed again at how I said ‘die.’ Will avoid the D word in the future. “But as of right now? I’m inside a girl’s body, sooo...”

Ugh. Thank God she was too young and too unaware to pick at the obvious sexual innuendo I just spat. Vince would’ve jumped at the occasion with way too much pleasure for his own good.

“Ah, gotcha! I won’t make it weird,” Amy said confidently.

I was about to thank her for her resolve, but-

Knock knock!

“Twilight?” said an all too familiar draconian voice.

“Okay, so don’t freak out, Amy, but a tiny dragon totally lives here. He’s contracted to serve me or something. He’s chill,” I whispered to my orange friend. She didn’t have time to ask any further questions.

“Come in, Spike!” I said.

The door did its thing and rotated around its hinges. And who should appear but Mr. Spike himself. Amy reacted with surprise, as I fully expected. It wasn’t enough to draw suspicion, however. Good work, Amy! Your composure was thrice mine! I thought Spike was going to suck my blood the first time I saw him, but Amy over there merely recoiled. She really was courageous for her age.

“Hey Twilight! Hey Applejack! Rainbow Dash told me you two were upstairs.”

Ah-hah! Ladies and gentlemen, the plot thickened: We had a name. “Rainbow Dash.” No doubt as to whom this name belonged. Thanks Spike, you truly were a savior. You would make info kiosks proud, my little drake.

“Yup. We were just, uh, taking it easy, you know?” I told Spike. “Taking a load off and stuff.”

“Well, it’s a relief to know you’re relaxing! You had me sooo confused this morning, heh,” he snickered. “But getting your friends over to help you with your reg- rete-” He sighed. “-your memory loss? I think it’s a wonderful idea, Twi! I’m sure Dash and AJ can get you back on your hooves.”

Crap on a stick. More problematics tossed my way! Rainbow Dash was supposed to be yet another friend of mine? Christ, how many friends did this purple drifter had? Friendship is Gonorrhea; you don’t pass that shit around willy-nilly. At some point, collecting too many buddies removes any meaning behind true friendship. Treasure the strong bonds you have instead of stacking them on a display shelf.

I made a terrible impression to ‘Dash’ earlier – probably why she looked at me funny. She saw her friend acting all bizarre. This also implied that Amy – or rather, Applejack – was a friend in this trio of ours. We will have to be doubly cautious from there onward.

“Oh no! You have memory loss?” Amy said to me.

fgsfds! Why did I have to play mediator all the time?

“No no, it’s okay, Applejack. I feel much better since I woke up. That goes for you too Spike. You shouldn’t worry about me anymore, heh. I can take care of myself,” I told him, trying to remain convincing.

“Mmmh, if you say so, Twilight! You still feel a little out of it, but nowhere near as bad as when I found you on the floor after your nightmare. Just don’t be tempted to go back to your work! That’s a job for tomorrow’s Sparkle,” Spike said with amusement. “Now come downstairs! I uh, found the stuff you needed... for some reason. Didn’t exactly get everything. I did what I could with the budget I had!”

Hallelujah! Sweet mother of clothes, here we come! Time to teach these ponies a thing or two about modesty.

---

Shopping bags and shopping bags and shopping bags. How many clothes did we now have? A “yes” amount. We must’ve tripled our current inventory. Rainbow Dash was still book spelunking, though her attention was halved toward what we were doing. The bags were piled on the middle table of the main room. As I was digging my hooves in to collect my goods, I lost Amy from my vision. I knew she didn’t go outside, so I didn’t need to babysit her that thoroughly. Anyway, my attention was elsewhere.

“Unfortunately, Twilight, I had to go to the general store to get the articles of clothing you asked for, because Rarity wasn’t home,” justified Spike.

Then, he kept on going, scratching his scaly head. “... Which is weird, when I think about it. She’s usually working double in the middle of the week.” He drooped, disappointed. “Ah well, that’s too bad... was really looking forward to see her.”

“That’s okay, Spike. You did your best and that’s all that matters. You’re a good assistant,” I tossed a bone his way.

It worked, because he perked up. Good, still got it, dude.

I pulled out a pair of jeans out of the bag, by holding them awkwardly between two stumpy hooves. Neat, that was one of the most important pieces I requested. I should’ve expected it, but they were shaped rather differently than human pants. The pockets were angled differently, for instance. It even had a backward strip band with a cavity underneath, most surely to let the tail through. Tche, tails. With the right bend in a spine, who needed stupid tails for balance? Humans had it so right. Anyway, the material wasn’t exactly your typical North American denim (didn’t have the classic diagonal stitches inside), but it wasn’t a fashion trainwreck nonetheless. I could make due.

Next, I pulled out a generic belt. Wasn’t made of leather. Why? Dunno. Some kind of sturdy polyester, perhaps? Well, no matter the case, at least, it meant that I could walk without my pants falling off like a dumbass.

Up next in the magical bag of surprises, the shirt, and the jacket. Dark gray and chestnut respectively. The latter having the squared pattern I wished for. As Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys would say: “Deeeecent!” I also found the sunnies, albeit not aviator-shaped. Instead, they were huge and diva-like. Insert sad game show chime here.

Missing pieces were the cane, the boxer, the socks, the shoes. Okay, I could live without those, sure, whatever. My feet weren’t exactly suffering, as I found out, walking on the paths and stuff. I will admit that there were some perks to having sturdy hooves, but that didn’t mean I was ready to abandon picking linen out of my toe creases.

The rest of the shopping bags were grocery related, as far as I could tell. So little Spike over there got busy, it seemed. Wait- How the heck did he even transport all of that? I hoped he lifted with his legs and not his back.

But hang on, over there, in this other bag-

“Hum, what’s this, Spike?”

He turned to look. “Oh that? That was a hundred and fifty bits, that’s what! Gee Twilight, I didn’t know you were into collector items! That one was rare, and the broker I bought it from only had a few copies left. That was a hard catch!”

I didn’t know what the exchange rate between USD and BITS were, but I could take a hint that this item was rather overpriced. I could hardly believe that a baseball cap of all things could send you straight to welfare.

“But I don’t understand? That’s not what I... What’s with the logo here?”

It was the black silhouette of three flying ponies in the middle of striking a pose, a bit reminiscent of the Powerpuff Girls. One in the middle looking up, two by his side curved outwards. All three of them pumping one hoof out. They were encompassed in a bright red shield. Under, two big bold letters in white: FF.

“That’s the Fillydelphia Flyers, Twilight. They’re a pretty talented unit performing shows airborne. That’s what you asked for, remember?”

...

“T-thanks, Spike,” I said, fighting back tears of frustration.

Rainbow Dash took this opportunity to approach me.

“Hey, cool hat, Twilight!” she said, maybe to make me feel better? I dunno.

“Appreciated, my comrade in friendship. You’re into that stuff, air stunts and such?” I put the hat on my head, my horn still poking out under the sole.

Rainbow Dash froze at my question a bit, her eyes going from Spike to I. Shit, did I ask something stupid? God dammit, I really needed to learn to keep my mouth shut. I was there to find my way home, not to endanger my position via needless chatter. The more I talked, the more I risked.

Rainbow Dash, looking oddly nervous, raised a hoof, about to say something, but Spike nudged me on the ribs with his elbow.

“Twilight, ha! You’re seriously asking this to Rainbow flippin’ Dash? The biggest Wonderbolts fan out there?”

“Yeah Twilight, what’s up with you?” immediately jumped back Dash with that chalkboard voice of hers.

Tension: Building. Heart rate: Increasing. Protocol suggestion: Abort! Abort!

“Gotcha both! Ha, your faces: Priceless!” I smiled perhaps a little too widely. “Of course Dash is numbero uno Wonderbolts fan; who doesn’t know that? Because, I, Twilight Sparkle, certainly did.”

...

I wished I could go back to writing music already. I missed venting by cranking up the treble, tuning down to drop C, and strumming aggressive power chords.

Spike was still giving me a funny look and Rainbow Dash tried to make it even. Suddenly, blessed be that incredible timing that yanked me out of this supremely awkward moment, a loud and muffled thud made us three turn toward the source of the sound. Turns out, the perpetrator was Amy. She carried a large jug she found from God knows where (hypothetically the kitchen; Spike DID get some grub) and deposited it on a reading table near a couple of shelves.

“AJ? What’s that for?” curious Spike asked.

Amy leaned next to the jug, satisfied with her deed. “That there is the swear jar!”

Next objective: Crawling into a blackhole and disappearing forever.

“A swear jar?” asked Spike and Dash together.

Amy nodded with fervor. “Ya-huh. Twilight over there? He- She wouldn’t stop saying meanie words on our way back from the farm. So now, her punishment is to put money in there every time she says an oopsie.”

“Oh, I love this!” Spike said a bit too cheerfully, clapping his claws. “Didya know Twilight ALSO said a no-no in front of me this morning? So that’s an extra bit just for that!”

“Roooh nooooo you didn’t, Twilight!” turned Amy to me.

Ok, stop. Pause. Halt. CEASE and DESIST!

“Alright, that was cute at first, but aren’t we going a liiiittle bit overboard with this whole ‘no swearing’ policy? I thought it was more of a figurative thing than actually having a real-life mother fucking jar.”

“TWILIGHT!” shouted Rainbow Dash, Spike, and Amy in unison.

“Ugh, tough crowd,” I exhaled. “Spike, just drop them bits.”

---

I changed clothes. And by changed, I meant, I ACTUALLY put some clothes on.

Yeah, that was quite the challenge. I managed to slide into my new jeans. They were a bit loose, but they did provide the necessary cover I yearned for. My shirt was not too tough to manage as well. The belt, however. Oh boy. I heard boss music.

Hooves, man, hooves! These things had the agility of hollowed-out sledgehammers. And my torso was perpendicular to gravity; the belt was nowhere near where my arms used to dangle. I tried to put the belt on: I faceplanted. I tried to put it on while seated: I reverse faceplanted. Backplanted? Impatience building up, I yelled for Spike’s backup. He obliged, strapping the back flap thingy of my jeans correctly, and passing the belt through the hoops with dexterity I should’ve had.

“You know you could just use your magic for that,” he said.

“I don’t need your sass right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously you’re not used to wear anything but dresses.”

“You’re pushing it buddy,” I said, shuddering at the thought.

Spike sighed. “You sure you need all that stuff? It is pretty hot outside. With your fur, well...”

“Yes, Spike. We’ve been over this already. Look, let me just have this, please? I’m not budging on the matter.”

I hated how he put my ‘fur’ in the limelight. Unnghhh. Fur was supposed to be macho, not cutesy-cuddly. I used to have sideburns, thick eyebrows, and a goatee. Just the right amount of manly facial hairiness.

“Your funeral,” he simply said, hooking the buckle tightly. “Just make sure Rarity doesn’t see you like this... wherever she might be.”

A little awkward having someone else do something I’ve done every day since I started wearing adult clothes. But less awkward than not being civilized. It felt like my dad tying my ties all over again.

Spike left the bathroom for me to tend to my own. Cool. I looked at the jacket, and saw the array of buttons. Then, I looked back at my fingers on vacation. You know what? Fuck the jacket. Shirt, pants, belt: The three bastions of sanity. S’all I really needed. The hat was a nifty bonus.

Coming back to the hub, I just had to grunt. You know what Spike did to Amy’s artifact of doom (i.e., the jug)? He inked “SWEAR JAR >:(” on it. To baptize it, to make it official. Yes, he even did that little frowning emoticon next to it. He also added a line near the rim of the jug, where it read: “To the moon.” I had no idea what this inside joke meant, but I swore to myself to never reach that threshold.

Rainbow Dash was still there, grrrr. She had a mountain of books by her side. She looked a little lost, like she was trying to find something specific and not succeeding at it. It was any moment now that she’d require my help, and I was going to buckle under the pressure.

Fate had its way, because Rainbow turned her concentrated head toward me. She looked at my clothes with a bit of stupor, but then, she returned to her mission at hand: To throw me an uncatchable curveball.

It’s at this point that my stomach told fate to go take a hike.

Grrbbllmmblll...

“Looks like somepony’s hungry,” laughed Spike.

“Ha ha ha,” I said, annoyed he heard that.

Look, it was true. I didn’t eat anything yesterday evening in my old human body. I didn’t know if it accounted for anything, but fact was, this pony didn’t ingest squat since she woke up screaming and coughing. Tea was hardly sustenance. And it was what, 3 PM now? A guy was entitled to get his daily dose of calories.

“Oh, I’m hungry too, Spike!” Amy kindly added. Her stomach soon confirmed it.

“Good thing I just refurbished the ice box, eh Twilight?” winked Spike.

The ice box? As in fridge? Oh no no no. Ain’t happenin’, buddy. I needed an excuse to interrupt Dash’s quest to pester me. I certainly wasn’t going to stand idle in here, chomping away whilst she had me all for herself, more than ready to probe the book expertise I didn’t have.

Time. I needed more time. I needed to at least familiarize myself a teensy bit with my work place before I could let other ponies walk all over me. Just, you know, until I could figure out this whole human-to-pony situation. But right now? I was unprepared beyond unprepared. Rainbow would sooner or later realize I was only playing with a 2’s and 7’s while everyone else was drowning in full houses.

“Y-you know what?” I clopped my hooves.

All turned to listen to my impromptu seminar.

“It’s a beautiful day, I’ve got these cool new clothes to show off, and... Howzabout we go out and have lunch somewhere, han? My treat!”

“Yay!” Amy bounced.

“Mmmmh, well I do feel a bit peckish myself, Twilight,” hesitantly said Dash.

Spike, meanwhile, merely smiled at us, ugh, “ladies,” getting giddy about our daytrip. How many times had I wished to be struck by lightning in one day? Could I get an estimate to the nearest dozen?

“Ah, you girls go ahead,” Spike brushed off the offer. “Twilight had a rough day. I’m sure she’ll enjoy a little moment with her friends. I’ll tend to the library in the meantime, no biggie. Besides, I already snacked on a couple of topazes on my way here.”

Excuse the bejeezus out of me: He what!? Did he just imply he swallowed a bunch of geodes? Was that some kind of insane dare? I knew we all needed minerals to balance a healthy diet, but come on now, that was a little bit too literal of him.

“You ate what now?” I aimed confusion at him.

And it struck true. He held his claws in front of his mouth, as if he’d been caught red handed.

“Uh, uh... I m-meant, um...” His forehead became red and sweaty. “I-I’m s-sorry Twilight! I know I’m n-not supposed to snack before supper, but, uh...”

Alright. He danced for long enough. Next time, I’ll teach him to eat actual food instead of stocking rocks in his tummy like a child. Last thing I needed was to deal with the epic misadventures of Spike and his stomach clog.

“Sure bud. Your sins are forgiven.” I nudged with this elastic neck of mine toward my jeans. “Pocket me some cash and your debt shall be erased. Oh, and go fetch my shades too; gotta get the look right.”

---

We were once again among the quadestrians of Ponyville. The activity hadn’t died down. We could easily blend in with Equestria’s crowd. Except,

“Uh, Twilight, are the clothes that necessary?” asked Rainbow Dash.

This was some Spike shit all over again. “Ugh. Yes, Rainbow. It is.”

“But e-everypony else is staring at us,” Dash lowered her head, slightly ashamed.

“They’re just jelly because they haven’t advanced to the next age as I have.”

Whatever. I felt a million times better this way. Sure, it chaffed a bit on my forsaken pelt. Sure, I felt a bit hot and sweaty under the cloth. Sure, my movements were a tad more restricted. Bah! That little voice in my head telling me I was buns out piped down. And that, that was worth everything. I would never again venture to the outside world like a damn nudist. Amy was just too young to understand what “flashing” meant, that's what it was.

“Where should we go eat, Twilight?” Amy interrupted the pointless debate between me, Dash, and my mind.

Mmmh, good question, my friend. I wondered if this city had any fast food. I wasn’t in the mood for something too lavish. I woke up feeling like shit, and usually, an effective remedy for me was to gobble down greasy diabetes type 2 trash. Comfort food was a good fallback option in dire times. You didn’t have to choose between the seafood or the duck risotto; no, you just dove in your salty fries without second guessing your life. Look, I was American. Ronald McDonald practically raised me. Unfortunately, however, I spotted no familiar joints thus far. No Subways, no Five Guys, no Wendy’s, no Chick-fil-A, etc...

“I dunno, Applejack. What do you feel for?”

“Oh, oh! I want chicken nuggies!”

“Nice. I could go for a good quarter pound beef burger myself,” I rubbed my chin. “And a metric ton of beer, heyooo!”

We turned to Rainbow Dash. “What about you Rain- uh...”

Why was she looking at us with flabbergasted eyes?

“Um, Dash?” I nervously said.

“Huh? Oh! I was just- sorry. You blindsided me a bit,” she blinked. “Y-you can eat that sort of stuff? I just, I had no idea. It’s just weird to me, is all.”

“What are you on about?”

“Meat-derived products. I didn’t know ponies were built to digest that stuff. Aren’t we supposed to be herbivorous?”

“Choice of diet is in the eyes of the beholder, pal. We’re free to consume as we please. I sincerely doubt being served a healthy protein is parallel to giving a dog chocolate,” I said with confidence. I was going to hold my ground for that one. “I take you’re not one to enjoy a succulent rack of prime ribs every now and then?”

She stuck her tongue out. “Uh yeah, no thanks. I’m a vegetarian.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. Right. One of those people. I respected her choice; we were who we chose to be. I just hoped she wasn’t one to shove down that style of life down our throat. She seemed nice enough in any case, so maybe my concern was unwarranted. The internet made me so jaded.

Once again, I suppose this was a piece of trivia from Dash’s life I should’ve known already. She was a friend of mine, and I didn’t even remember an important detail about her. So, Dash: Liked the Wonderbolts, got into wing accidents, and was a veggie eater. Okay, we were starting to draw a comprehensive portrait.

I cleared my throat. “Y-yeah we know that, I was just pulling your leg, heh. Anyway, no biggie, I’m sure we’ll find a place that caters to us all.”

She added nothing and fell behind Amy and I. She looked deep in thoughts. Amy gave her a concerned look, then edged closer to me. She started to talk lowly, so that Dash wouldn’t eavesdrop what she had to say.

“Hum, Twilight?”

“Yeah Amy?” I mumbled back, keeping our conversation sufficiently secluded.

“S-something seems off with Rainbow Dash...” she said, turning to her and smiling, making sure our private chat didn’t look too off putting.

“What do you mean? You think she found us out?”

“No, it’s... no. At least, I don’t think? But I feel like she’s hiding something. Like, she’s not being entirely honest with us,” Amy hesitantly said.

“You think so?”

She thought for two seconds... “Yes.”

“How can you tell?”

“I... I don’t know. I just, I just can. I just feel it.”

“That seems like a strong leap of faith from where I stand, Amy.”

“It’s not though! Twilight, I swear, she’s lying about something. You hafta believe me! Something tells me so!”

“Well, your ‘something’ definitely wouldn’t hold in cou-”

Dash reappeared to my left.

“What are you girls talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked.

“Oh, uh, food stuff. We didn’t want to disgust you with our barbaric meat talk.”

She nodded, cashing in the lie. 10 points for Twilight.

---

Turns out, we did not find a place that catered to us all.

I thought for a moment that we’d have difficulty finding a restaurant that came with a vegetarian menu, but in a sick reversal, it’s the opposite we couldn’t find! Seriously, everything offered was naught BUT vegetarian stuff, and meat main courses were the oddity! And by oddity, what I meant was, we didn’t find a single establishment that offered the measliest morsel of meat. Lamb was inexistent, chicken was nowhere to be seen, and beef was unheard of. Even shrimp appetizers went extinct.

We flocked from place to place, looking at the A-frame sidewalk menus, disappointed to find nothing but burgers filled with “hay.” My allergies practically made my eyes water at the thought of deep throating grass.

Stupid city. Stupid country. Stupid society. This was an insult to every steakhouse I’ve ever been to. If eating – eating well – was that much of a struggle, then I wouldn’t last days here. I was too cocooned in my comfortable life, and I was rendered weak in the face of adversity. Good times create weak men, etc. An unquenched grumbling tummy just made things 100% worse. Being “hangry” was a science of its own.

Giving up our quest for something medium-rare, Amy and I had to resign ourselves to settle down at the next place we’d find. Our hunger could hardly tolerate our pickiness anymore. I was seriously considering shoveling sand in my mouth just to subside the growls. At least Dash wasn’t sharing our burden, lucky her.

And here we were, seated at a terrasse under a cozy parasol. And thank heavens for that, for my armpits were turning to swamp pits. I was to keep my clothes on, though! I was as stubborn as a muuuu-nope. Wasn’t gonna finish that expression. Amy and I sat on our bottoms, tail casted to the side, legs dangling off the chair. Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash preferred to sit on her haunches, just like the magnet pony we saw earlier. I wondered if we were supposed to adapt this position ourselves to blend in better. Food for thoughts.

There weren’t too many other patrons around us. Given our odd time to eat, halfway between lunchtime and dinnertime, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Once again, I was okay with this. The lesser the number of ponies around me, the more at ease I felt.

Checking out the menu gave me a second wave of disappointment. My perfectly imagined Swiss cheese chipotle mushroom burger did not materialize itself on the pages. Instead, they had... they had-

“Daffodil sandwiches?” Amy queried. “What’re daffodils?”

“They’re flowers with yellow petals, AJ,” said knowledgeable Rainbow Dash.

“Ewww! Flowers in a sandwich?” she exclaimed.

I had to echo Amy’s thoughts there. I was once dared to eat a mouthful of dandelions when I was young and stupid. Naturally, I did it, and I got my twenty dollars. My puke was a lovely shade of Spring green.

Dash tilted her head at another nearby client consuming a copy of the sandwich pictured in our menus. When I saw the flower stem poking out of the bread slices, I suppressed a gag. The masochists, the lot of them!

“That stallion seems to be eating it just fine...” Rainbow said, a bit confused at Amy’s outburst.

“His side dish... is it a bowl full of weeds?” I added.

“... that’s orchard hay, I think,” Rainbow continued. She was seriously getting weirded out by Amy and I’s reactions.

“That’s just stupid,” I nonchalantly retorted. “The FDA would have a field day here.”

Deciding that it was rude to stare, us three flicked our attention toward another pony who didn’t learn that lesson yet. He was standing next to our table, a dickey and a red bowtie around his neck. He somehow managed to balance a pad in that hoof of his. His mane was coiffed nicely, his brown fur was groomed to perfection, and his blue eyes screamed customer service. Right now, them eyes were staring at my garments – more precisely, my dark shirt. I understood I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst preachers of nudity, but come on my guy, try to be at least a little bit subtle about it.

“I’m taking that black isn’t your favorite color?”

He shook his head. “Buh? Oh, uh, sorry madam. I mean um,” he coughed, “m-my name is Quick Service and I’ll be your waiter this afternoon. May I take your order, ladies?” he said, regaining his professionalism.

It took me some restraint to not yell “who’re you calling ‘lady,’ lady?” Fortunately, my easily provoked anger was currently on probation, substituted with starvation. Also, I thought that with a name like his, the poor stallion had suffered enough.

“Yeah, gimme uhhhhhhhh-”

I droned out, my eyes scanning the menu line by line. I didn’t know what to take. Something flowerless, that much was obvious. But nothing really screamed eye candy for me. Truth was, I was still undecided. No sirloin steak to make me drool, not smoked meat poutine to remind me of hockey nights, no duck breast to make my bits bleed. I hated being put on the spot like this.

As I tried to jumpstart my brain with imaginary booster cables, it occurred to me that Amy and Dash both placed their order. Amy took their “jumbolicious” grilled cheese with a bowl of onion horseshoes (???) while Dash opted for something a little classier with her deluxe garden salad and buckwheat wafers. The waiter turned to me, hoping to finally be relieved of duty from us nutjobs.

“-uuuuuuuuuh-”

“Madam?” asked Quick Service.

“-uuuuh yeah I’ll take your minestrone soup with cheese bread and deep-fried cauliflowers on the side.”

Why did I just order soup in the middle of a hot day, again? Going back on my choice was poor etiquette, so I dropped the idea. Instead,

“Wait. Toss in an ice coffee too.”

Didn’t see it on the menu, but-

“Oh, I’m sorry miss, we do not serve coffee at The Fifth Corner. We do have tea, though.”

“Pass.”

No coffee? Blasphemy! How did they keep their citizens indoctrinated without overcaffeinated beverages? The promise of some sweet wake-up-in-a-bottle was usually an efficient way to turn people into mindless obedient slaves. “Work you shift, earn your Starbucks latte, and ask no questions.”

Quick Service left, scribbling on his pad with a quill. That he was holding in his mouth. I’m sure that was a completely OSHA-approved sanitary work practice that wasn’t prone to bacterial infections at all. I just had to wonder though: Why did everyone stroll around with some ye ol’ quills? H2 lead pencils anyone? No? Was it too inconceivable that there were better alternatives than carrying a stupid ink pot everywhere? God dammit, whatever man. This backward city kept finding new ways to irrationally aggravate me to no end.

I simmered down. Amy, Dash, and I talked for a bit, waiting for our order. We weren’t asking anything too personal to each other, which worked just fine by me. We maintained decorum and kept it on the safe side. Our subjects of conversation were sooo generic and uninteresting, anyone in the world could’ve had them. Blabbing about this restaurant, the demeanor of the waiter, our favorite meals, my new clothes, and of course, the king of all unsubstantial talking points: The weather. Eventually, the food arrived, and not a moment too soon. We stared at our plates and smiled at the butchered “Bon appétit” Quick Service was contractually obliged to utter.

So.

Alright.

Heh.

...

How the fuck do I eat this?

Why did I order soo-oo-ooup! I should’ve taken a note in Amy’s book and asked for something that could be held between those hydraulic presses we called hooves. She was already nibbling on her sandwich, while I was stuck staring at the maroon liquid in my bowl. Maybe I could dunk the cheese breads and let them soak the minestrone via osmosis? Then grab the sponged-up results and munch in peace?

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, had taken a fork, impossibly holding it in her hoof. As if an invisible fist squeezed it tight. How? That didn’t make a lick of sense! There was nothing to vice-grip cutlery in a pony’s hoof. No creases, no protuberances, no suction cups, no adhesive slime, no nothing to handle any object that needed to be held. The utensil should’ve found its way to the floor, but somehow, it remained perfectly balanced in her “palm.” Peristalsis, gravity, and friction all collectively gave up that day.

“H-how?” I asked her, as she dragged a mouthful of lettuce to her mouth.

“Hmmm?” she looked up from her plate.

“How are you grabbing that fork?”

She looked at the fork, then back to me, frowning. Then, it was Amy’s turn to be impressed by the feat.

“Oh wow, that’s cool! Look Twilight, it’s holding super steadily!” She looked at her own unused fork. “I gotta try too!”

And try she did. It took two or three attempts, but she ended up handling the fork the same way Dash did. As if this was a totally normal thing to do.

“Yes! I get it! It’s super duper easy! Now you try, Twilight,” said Amy to me.

“Oh alright...” I reluctantly agreed, not all too convinced.

And there were reasons for that. Because after my eighth attempt at handling these utensils? Still couldn’t grasp zip diddly. I was just about to throw them in the street. I couldn’t even stab anyone with my butter knife to blow some steam! Seriously, how were these girls doing it so casually? Did they secretly fetch the roll of adhesive tape while I was blinking? Did they have a better build than my own? I tried as I might and still nothing would yield. My spoon was just sliding off my useless hoof. It even fell into the soup after a particularly bad maneuver, making a mess. Would it be socially unacceptable to flip the table? Asking for a friend. My eyes were making a sharply angled V, and my sweat multiplied tenfold. I was at the point of giving up.

“God dammit, I can’t do it! It’s just not possible!” I moaned in defeat.

“Keep trying, Twilight!” encouraged Amy. “You just gotta flex that weird muscle near the tip of your hoof. It’s like, uh, like ah uuuuhhhh, a m-membrane? A weird muscly membrane. When it’s pushed out, it just clasps to stuff.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t feel it at all, Am- Applejack.” I threw my arms up. “How am I supposed to feed myself if I can’t even grab anything? Huh? I’m going to starve!”

I looked at Rainbow Dash for some moral support, but ah. Well. I wasn’t exactly acting all-pony like, wasn’t I? I didn’t know how old this body of mine was, but it was fair to assume it survived a good number of years before my apparition at least. Twilight must’ve been able to feed somehow for her to have persisted for this long. So there must’ve been a trick to spoon-feed oneself. But what was it?

Dash was looking elsewhere, so I followed her glance. Her eyes were glued to another stick-head pony at a neighboring table. She was in the middle of lifehacking a cracker from her plate to her mouth. Her horn was doing the same inexplicable show of colors the pony at the café did. What the heck, were they in cahoots? They were both using the esoteric magnet strategy I couldn’t quite comprehend. The cracker was also surrounded by a matching aura. Horn and food: Both acting like an emitter and a receiver. As if they were both conveniently communicating via some kind of WIFI signal. How unfair was that? It’s almost as if she could will the food to her cakehole. Boooo! You weren’t impressing anyone, show-off!

Grmblblbl...

Rainbow Dash craned her neck back to me. She became in trance with my forehead, analyzing it with intensity. For some reason. Then her thoroughly unimpressed magenta eyes went back to pierce my soul. Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was horizontal. She had the look of a parent who caught their kid doing something incredibly stupid and forcing them to admit it.

“Hum, something on my face?” I cautiously asked.

She remained absolutely nonplussed. Top eyelids semi closed, like she was the queen of ennui.

“Look I- I’m just having a bit of trouble with my hooves, hehehe! You know, cramps?” I said, wobbling my front leg as if to relieve invisible pain. “Can’t grab stuff without hooves, right?”

She still didn’t talk. Instead, she crossed her “arms,” an eye cocked.

“C-cramps?” I squeaked out.

Out of nowhere, she slammed the table. My soup splashed.

“Alright, you two clowns can drop the act,” she said calmly, but firmly.

...

I could’ve heard a penny drop. Amy stopped waving her fork in the air like it was an airplane. She froze solid, as I did. We both exchanged a worried look, and then back at Dash.

“Errr... what do you mean by that, good ol’ buddy bud Dashie?” was my godawful defense. “W-what act?”

“I said drop it, ‘Twilight!’ I know something’s up with the two of you. You’re going to tell me what it is, okay? No tricks, no shenanigans, just...” she sighed. “... just tell me what’s going on.”

“But we’re not-”

“Twilight!” she boldly cut me off. “Explanations. Now!”

That was it, wasn’t it?

I didn’t see an easy way out of this. One day- ONE day in Ponyville, and that’s all it took for me to act like a fool. Multiple times. A fool that just wouldn’t know when to quit. I didn’t even last a single Earth rotation before my secret identity was put on trial. I didn’t even make it to dinner, for crying out loud! Wow that felt like a freaking blow to my fragile self-confidence. What did that say about me, really? That even during critical times, I was still the poster child of failure? And so quick at tossing the towel too? Was I that unreliable, that incapable? Better not to trust me with your life, everybody, because I was the antithesis of success incarnate. Ask for my hand and I was going to find a way to let you fall.

I was not trained to act like a secret agent, okay? I was emotive, ill-tempered, and just so tired. So, so tired. I hadn’t made it to boy scouts, boot camp, or even so much as taken yoga classes. I wasn’t one to be in touch with his placidity. I didn’t learn to keep my chill. Why would I EVER suspect that this was a requirement to living the good human life? School didn’t say shit about this!

I had an alternative, mind you. When I felt like there was too much bottled up inside this milquetoast body of mine, I took that repression to local show floors, blasting my Fender amp. That’s all I needed. Me, my Stratocaster, a microphone, and a good sound system. Ingredients to get in the zone. Here though? Couldn’t even so much as to practice my pentatonic scales. I was as instrumentless as a bloke stranded on a desert island. I was deprived from my token of sanity.

In the matter of hours, I had panicked, bawled my eyes out, made people around me feel like shit, and leaked my alter-ego with maximum transparency. I didn’t have my bandmates, I didn’t have Vince, I didn’t have my parents, I didn’t have my supportive coworkers, I didn’t have my internet buddies, no. My music, my Camaro, my games, my career, my projects, my life: All of it walked the plank. All I had was my loss of control. All alone, incapable of funneling that sense of being played with toward something more productive. I was on my knees, and mischievous Gods still found the need to kick me down.

I fumbled the one and only objective I relayed to Amy, and I was going to pay the price for it. Yes, there was no sense in denying it: I’ve been found out. Exposed, busted, and off with my head! My acting was so poor, that I even made Amy suffer collateral damage. The poor girl was going to be pilloried by proxy, and it was all my fault. I finally understood why I lost my wiener: To prevent me from becoming a terrible dad...

Dash was waiting impatiently for my next move. But there was no next move. Just resignation.

“Sigh... I guess we should come clean. But first, I oughta ask: What gave it away?”

Comments

[That One Strange Fellow]

I could’ve heard a penny drop. Amy stopped waving her fork in the air like it was an airplane. She froze solid, as I did. We both exchanged a worried look, and then back at Dash.

Gosh, Amy is just precious.

Loving the story! Keep it up!

[vectorVll]

How did this guy survive 25 years? I understand this has a unique situation, but he is the kind of guy you know that would freak out if there's a new barista at his favorite coffee place. The kind of guy who was Miley inconvenience and never went back to that place ever again. I could not live in this person's mind. I would drive myself up the wall.

[Online account]

11703547

Heh, the same way Peter Griffin made it to adulthood: Rule of funny and a pinch of cartoon physics. That lovable (hateable?) oaf sure has a mind of his own.

I miss my old barista. :C

[vectorVll]

11703791
He is a character and I do like him. But his survival skills are very close to zero. Don't worry, she's probably living a happy life. And there's always a new barista.