Trunk-Or-Treat
Halloween. Nightmare Night. It never ceased to amaze me how similar the traditions on two different worlds could be. Both holidays involved dressing up in costumes and kids going door to door for candy. I was well-past trick-or-treating age, but I was always happy to pass out candy on Halloween.
Or, as the case happened to be, the weekend before the holiday. I sat in my car at the train station and turned the key to the accessory position to check the time yet again. Amtrak is running late? What a surprise.
A few minutes later the train pulled into the station, and it wasn’t long before a trio of equines made their way to my Mustang. I’d been expecting Coconut Cream and her parents, but instead found Cee-Cee escorted by her mother, Whipped Cream, and one of her friends, Petunia Paleo.
I opened the car door and the pair of fillies pounced on me. Earth pony fillies are heavier than they look, especially when they have momentum on their side. With the wind temporarily knocked out of me, Whipped Cream trotted up and put a hoof on my shoulder.
“I was expecting Butter Cream to be with you.”
“We got a last minute order for Halloween cupcakes, so he had to stay behind to bake them. The client’s having a party on Sunday and they waited until yesterday to place the order. It appears that most of the other bakers in town told them to pound sand. For us, it’s an opportunity. Cee-Cee suggested Petunia accompany us. She says she misses you.”
“Her aim will improve with practice.”
Whipped Cream rolled her eyes. “Are you ever serious?”
“Not when I can help it. Life’s too short to take seriously – no one gets out of it alive.”
“I recommend ascending to alicorn. Then you’d have all the time in the world.”
“♫ Is it any wonder I’ve got too much time on my hands? It’s ticking away with my sanity. ♫ Though I guess it would be ‘hooves’ if I was an alicorn.”
She groaned. “You’ve got a song ready to go for any occasion, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Pretty much.”
I helped the ponies into the backseat of my car, and they fit snugly in the nest I’d constructed back there. Standard seatbelts weren’t designed with ponies in mind, and until the day pony-friendly belts became available, it was the safest way for them to travel. Once my passengers were comfortable, I slid behind the wheel of my Mustang.
After I fired up the engine I discreetly reached into the center console and slid my iPod’s playlist down to the Styx section and played the song I’d just quoted from. I caught Whipped Cream flicking her ears when the song reached the chorus.
“You know the difference between you and them? They can carry a tune.” She stuck her tongue out at me.
“They’re also richer, more famous, and on the outs with one another. The talented one isn’t even in the band anymore.” The irony wasn’t lost on me: the song we were listening to was the only one of Styx’s biggest hits that hadn’t been composed and sung by Dennis DeYoung.
They’d arrived at the height of rush hour, so I detoured toward my favorite pizzeria. It wasn’t exactly on the way to our destination, but it wasn’t that far out of the way. ‘Pizzeria’ was a bit of misnomer as they had more than just pizza and pasta – subs were also very popular, and they made cheesesteaks on par with the best ones in Philadelphia. The owner was also quite the baker, and had a wonderful selection of Italian desserts ranging from cannolis to cakes. There was always an incredible variety of offerings on hand, and the seasonal special was pumpkin soup. I took one glance at my company and ordered four soups. I made it a point to temper my carnivorous urges around my equine friends.
As I’d figured, the soup turned out to be popular with my guests. I took satisfaction in seeing Whipped Cream’s reaction to dessert. From her expression of pure bliss, it very obviously met with her approval.
Traffic thinned out while we ate, and the rest our ride was uneventful. We arrived at the car wash Coconut had previously worked at just as they were closing for the night, and Toola Roola galloped over to her friend, tackling her to the ground.
Minty trotted up to us. “Thanks for picking them up for me! I had to save my day off for tomorrow.” She nuzzled me, then galloped off to play with the trio of fillies.
I turned to Whipped Cream. “You’re really trusting Minty to take your kids trick-or-treating?”
“No, we’re trusting our kids to take Minty trick-or-treating.”
“Isn’t she a little old for that?”
“I asked the same question. Her response was, ‘There’s no such thing as being too old for free candy!’”
“I… I really can’t argue that.”
“Besides, you’ll be there.”
“And so will I.” Flitter glided to a landing next to me. “I’m foalsitting Rumble.” Seeing my look of confusion, she clarified, “My sister’s coltfriend’s little brother. His parents are going on vacation, and Cloudy and Thunderlane have a Wonderbolts show.”
I nodded. “Makes sense. You two need a ride over?”
“Nah, we’re gonna fly. I’ve got to make sure he burns off all those candy calories somehow. I wouldn’t mind a ride home though. It’ll be dark by the time we’re done.”
“You got it.” Pegasi tended not to fly at night unless it was absolutely necessary. There were too many aerial hazards on Earth.
Wait a minute. Flitter and I will be there, but… I turned back to Whipped Cream. “Aren’t you going to be there too?”
“Nope. Cee-Cee gets to play with her friends, and I get to be catch up with mine.” She motioned to Toola’s parents. “And everypony else I haven’t seen since we moved to Philly.”
Minty. Three rambunctious fillies. Minty. Copious amounts of sugar. But most of all, Minty, Minty, Minty. Visions of carnage swirled around my brain. “What are my odds of survival?”
“About 50/50. We’re all rooting for you.”
“Thanks.” With no reason to stick around, I went home, promising to meet everypony back at Minty’s house at noon the next day.
I spent the morning decorating my Mustang for the occasion. Window clings decorated the side windows; nothing that would hamper visibility, but small decorations to make the drive there more festive. I’d add the rest to the car once I got there.
I’d grabbed a Halloween-themed Snoopy at the grocery store while shopping for candy, and I put him in the trunk next to a big Scooby Doo plush. I added a candy dish and the massive bag of candy I’d picked up for the occasion. I had a few other decorations to hang up once I arrived at my destination, things that needed to hang from the trunklid. The pièce de résistance was a homemade haunted house my Mom had made years ago. It had been sitting in the closet for so long I’d completely forgotten I even had it until I stumbled across it while looking for my old Halloween decorations.
The last thing that needed to be decorated was me. I donned my costume for the event, transforming myself into Scooby Doo. I chuckled at the thought of Scooby giving out snacks instead of eating them himself.
I got some odd looks from folks on the drive to Minty’s house. I know, I know, Scooby Doo should be in a van, not a Mustang. Somehow Minty had convinced the parents of the three fillies that she could look after them for the night for a sleepover.
Amazingly, Minty’s house was still intact when I pulled up. Well, as intact as it had been since she moved in. She was prone to accidents, and her home showed the scars to prove it. But there was no new damage visible. I knocked and the door opened to reveal Minty and the girls dressed in costumes and ready to go. Expectations subverted.
“Scooby Doo! Oh my gosh, you’re adorable!”
The ponies think I’m cute. This is either an epic win or an epic fail, I’m just not sure which one…
I recognized the fillies’ costumes immediately. Petunia had ditched her normal Ceratosaurus costume for that of a Brontosaurus. With an elongated neck and tail, she was about four times as long as normal. Minty’s garden didn’t stand a chance. Whack! Sunflowers went flying as she twirled around in Minty’s front yard, displaying the costume. I made a mental note to remain at least six feet away from Petunia while she was in costume.
Toola and Coconut, meanwhile, had gone for costumes that almost no one was going to recognize. “Are you dressed up as Hall and Oates?”
“Yup! They’re from Philly, and so am I, so we thought it would be a good tribute!”
My taste in music must have really rubbed off on them – poor kids. “You do realize they haven’t been popular in decades, right? Also, Cee-Cee, you’re sporting more facial hair than John Oates does currently.”
“His mustache is iconic. At least that’s what Toola said.”
I nodded. “That it is.”
Minty, meanwhile, was dressed up as a black cat, with kitty ears, whiskers, tail, and even socks with little paw pads on them. The grown mare actually looks cuter than the fillies. She might just manage to get some candy after all. I scratched her behind the ears. “Who’s a good kitty?”
“Meow!” She headbutted me and licked my hand.
The nest I’d constructed behind the passenger seat of my Mustang wasn’t quite big enough for three fillies and a fully grown mare – so Minty sprawled out on the seat behind me. We had several hours until the trunk-or-treat started, so I surprised them with a stop at a corn maze. With signs claiming it was “A-maize-ing” the corn puns were fast and furious… not to mention corny. But that was all part of the appeal.
I paid for two adults and three kids and then led the way into the maze. At the first intersection I stopped and asked my guests which path we should take. They pointed in four different directions and I facepalmed. Petunia wanted to go straight, Toola wanted to go left, Coconut Cream wanted to go right, and Minty pointed back the way we’d just come. I broke the tie by marching straight ahead. There was no point in heading back to the entrance, and I didn’t want to spark a confrontation between Toola and Cee-Cee by picking one over the other, so Petunia’s choice was the only logical option.
We came to another intersection and I waited for my friends to come to a consensus. Coconut Cream finally convinced the rest of us to return to the last intersection and try one of the other paths. We then followed her initial pick right into a dead end. The corner had been decorated with skeletons in a Conestoga wagon.
Toola, unable to restrain her natural curiosity, scrutinized the wagon. “Huh, this really isn’t much of a party. And who’s Donner?”
I don’t think I’m going to be explaining this one to impressionable young fillies… or Minty, for that matter. “They must’ve run out of snacks. Or maybe they’re Philadelphia Flyers fans waiting for their team to win another championship.”
Cee-Cee snickered at that and then explained to the other ponies that her adopted city’s hockey team hadn’t won a championship since the 1970s.
We backtracked to the first intersection, and this time we took Toola’s path. As we wound our way through the maze, it started feeling like an episode of Scooby Doo. People in costumes kept jumping out and chasing us at the dead ends.
After ghosts, Bigfoot, and vampires, the ponies were completely unmoved by the hoard of shuffling zombies. “We’ve ridden in a car with Minty driving. It’s going to take a lot more than that to scare us.”
“If people don’t like the way I drive they should stay off the roads.”
“And the sidewalks…”
“And the first three stories of any building.”
“♫ She drives like crazy… Oooooooh-ooooooooh! Like no one else. She drives like crazy… Oooooooh-ooooooooh! Now I'm afraid for myself. ♫” If Minty had been around in the late ‘80s, I would’ve said Weird Al wrote that song about her.
Minty flicked her tail and I patted her head. “You know we love you.”
She jerked her head away and stomped off down the next corridor of the maze. We caught up to her a few minutes later at yet another dead end.
A chainsaw started up and a guy wearing a hockey mask pushed through the stalks of corn to chase us. The fillies shrieked in surprise and galloped back the way we’d come while Minty just stared at him. “Gimme that chainsaw!”
The hockey mask was obscuring his face, but I’m sure he was as surprised by Minty’s demand as I was. He turned the chainsaw off and retreated back into the corn.
“Oh no you don’t! I’m sick and tired of all these stupid dead ends! I’m cutting my way out of this maze!” Minty chased our would-be pursuer through the corn and I stood there, torn between chasing after Minty or the girls. Responsibility won out and I tracked down the fillies at the intersection.
“Where’s Minty?”
“Did the crazy chainsaw guy get her?” Petunia gasped at the thought.
“Last I saw her, she was chasing him through the corn, trying to steal his chainsaw. I think we should go watch.”
The fillies turned around to go back down the dead end, and the ridiculously long tail of Petunia’s costume whipped the nearest stalks of corn. Whack! Stalks bent and corn went flying. What did she make that costume out of, titanium?
We pushed through the corn at the dead end, following the broken stalks from where the chainsaw ‘murderer’ and Minty had run through before us. When no longer subjected to paths, the corn was limited to the size of the field, which wasn’t nearly as large as the fields used for corn that was actually intended for harvest. We pushed through to the end and found a triumphant Minty celebrating her victory over the maize maze. Much to my relief, she wasn’t in possession of the chainsaw.
“I could be wrong, but I think that’s cheating.”
“The point is to get out, and I got out.” She blew a raspberry at me.
“You want to go back and try to do it again, or shall we just get lunch instead?”
She looked at me like I was stupid for asking that question and tugged on the passenger door handle of my Mustang. Lunch it is. I hit the unlock button on my key fob and the ponies piled into my car.
Since we’d had Italian the night before, I stopped at a Pennsylvania Dutch buffet for a change of pace. They had the best mac and cheese – a dish I knew my traveling companions would enjoy as much as I did. Minty piled her plate high with mac & cheese, buttered noodles, and potato filling and I did the same, reluctantly bypassing the BBQ meatloaf. Then I scooped mac & cheese onto plates for the girls, since they were too short to reach the counter. I also added some carrots and broccoli to their plates just so they could tell their parents they’d had some veggies. For whatever miniscule amount of healthiness caramelized carrots contained.
Minty and I went up for seconds and eventually thirds, while the girls picked at their vegetables, saving room for dessert. I pushed my plate off to the side and stopped at the salad bar to grab bowls – for some reason the restaurant kept the dessert bowls at the salad bar and the miniscule bowls obviously intended for lettuce by the ice cream station.
The soft serve ice cream machine hadn’t been designed with equines in mind, so I started with my own to give the ponies an idea of what was on tap. A heaping bowl of vanilla ice cream was smothered in whipped cream, then drizzled with caramel and chocolate syrup, and covered in rainbow sprinkles. I looked at the ponies and all four of them were drooling at the sight.
“Who’s next?”
Four ponies raised their hooves simultaneously.
“Who knows what they want?” Three hooves went back down. I looked at Petunia. “Well?”
“Can… Can I have that one? Please?”
I handed it to her and she happily trotted back to our table. “Next?”
“Can I get chocolate?”
“Sure thing, Cee-Cee.” I filled a bowl with chocolate ice cream. “Whipped cream?”
“Mom? Where?” She looked around.
I cringed. Pony names. “Would you like whipped cream on your dessert?” She nodded and I obliged. She wanted nuts and caramel, and I added gratuitous amounts of both to the bowl. Satisfied, she joined Petunia back at the table. “Toola?”
“Twist.”
“The best of both worlds.” I filled a bowl with the chocolate-vanilla twist and added the toppings as she directed. Then it was Minty’s turn.
“Chocolate. Er, no. Vanilla. Definitely vanilla. Maybe chocolate.”
“Twist it is.” I added both flavors into the indecisive mare’s dish. Her topping preferences were more definite, and it wasn’t long before she returned to the table. That left only me, and I repeated what I’d done for the first bowl and grabbed a piece of shoofly pie to share. By the time I made it back to the table, four ponies were muzzle deep in ice cream bowls, spoons neglected on the table next to Cee-Cee’s discarded fake mustache.
If real life had a mute button, it would have been adorable. Instead, the slurping sounds ruined an otherwise cute moment and made it slightly nauseating instead. Despite the fillies having had a head start on her, Minty finished her ice cream first. I cut the piece of shoofly pie into five slices and scooped one of them into Minty’s empty bowl. “This is a local dessert known as shoofly pie. It’s a molasses crumb cake.”
Minty wasted no time, once more digging her muzzle down into the bowl and gulping the mini slice down in one bite. “That was pretty good!” She licked her lips, struggling to reach the whipped cream smeared on her muzzle.
The fillies all interrupted their ice cream consumption to try the shoofly pie. They all liked it, but not nearly as much as they liked the ice cream. The girls all finished their ice cream before I was even a quarter of the way done with my own bowl.
I flagged down our waitress and pulled her aside. “I know this is well beyond the scope of your job duties, but would you mind assisting me with a slight problem?” I motioned to my traveling companions. “Do you think you could help them clean up? I would, but there’s the little problem of using different bathrooms.”
Her eyes lit up. “Sure thing!” She practically yanked Minty from her seat and herded the ponies toward the restroom. I sat at the table eating my ice cream as I waited. I waited some more after I was done with dessert.
Then I waited even longer.
It shouldn’t take this long to wipe ice cream off four muzzles.
When they finally returned from the bathroom, not only were their faces immaculate, their manes and tails had been brushed. If not for their Halloween costumes, they looked ready for a horse show.
I paid and we waddled back to my car. Sometimes there were drawbacks to parking in the farthest reaches of parking lots – like having to hike a quarter mile immediately after overeating. The sun was significantly lower in the sky when we left the restaurant than it had been when we arrived.
A quick glance at the clock told me we still had a little time before we needed to be at our destination, so I cut across the countryside, taking some backroads to really show off the picturesque autumn landscapes. Besides, twisty roads are more fun.
We arrived at our destination with time to spare and I pulled into a parking spot next to a nondescript early ‘90s hatchback. The owner had set off the car’s teal paint with purple rims. I dismissed it as an import tuner wannabe and popped the trunk of my Mustang.
I then rearranged my trunk, setting up the spooky little display I’d spent the morning creating. The centerpiece was the Halloween-themed plush Snoopy I’d picked up at a grocery store the week before, a tribute to the timeless holiday special It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. Then I added the rest of the window clings to the car and wedged a pair of skeletal arms in between the trunk supports.
Once I was satisfied with my display I wandered around the parking lot, checking out the rest. One car was completely covered in cobwebs while a vintage Mini had a skeleton in the passenger seat. As was appropriate for a British car, there was a Union Jack on the roof, and the steering wheel was on the right side of the car instead of the left. “I see they even threw in the original owner when you bought this car.”
The owner chuckled at my joke and I moved on. Time was drawing short – kids would start trick-or-treating at 5:30 on the dot, so I didn’t have time to dawdle too long checking out any one particular car.
As I worked my way back to my Mustang, I finally got a good look at the hatchback I’d parked next to. The door was up. Not just open, but up. Butterfly doors. My first thought was the owner had done an aftermarket conversion to ‘Lambo doors’ but then I saw it was also right-hand drive. My jaw dropped as I realized I was looking at a Japanese domestic market exclusive Toyota Sera. I never thought I’d see one of these in person.
Minty, who’d initially been enthralled by my car’s sequential turn signals, was even more fascinated with the butterfly doors on the Sera, asking the car’s owner to open and close them repeatedly for her amusement. Then the fillies asked if they could sit in the car, and the owner obliged.
I grabbed their trick-or-treat buckets from my trunk and handed them over. Next I pulled out my gear for the evening: a folding chair, a Halloween decorated bowl to store candy in, and a 500-piece bag of candy to fill that bowl with. The candy dish went into the trunk of my Mustang, next to Snoopy, and the bag filled with the rest of the candy disappeared back into the passenger compartment, tucked out of sight in the pony’s backseat nest.
I was ready five full minutes before the official start. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than an ‘80s Volkswagen Vanagon pulled into the row directly across from me. Pastel blue paint was adorned with graphics of a similarly-colored unicorn. Big block lettering proclaimed her as ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’. Good! Minty and the girls won’t be the only ponies here.
I needn’t have worried. As it turned out, they weren’t the only ponies around. Fillies and colts mingled with boys and girls as trick-or-treating started in earnest. The owner of the Sera asked me for help hauling a heavy Rubbermaid tote out of his car and I obliged. It was filled with Hot Wheels and Matchbox cars to give to the kids. The cars disappeared faster than the candy he also had on offer. Surprisingly, it was the ponies who were more entranced by the little cars.
“Come one! Come all! Gather around and marvel at the Great and Powerful Trixie!” Fireworks burst around the mare, and it wasn’t long before she attracted a small crowd.
Since she’d pulled all of the trick-or-treaters in the vicinity to her van, there was nothing else for me to do but watch her routine. She lit up her horn like a lightbulb and then levitated a few things, including one of the kids, much to the chagrin of his parents. I only had one other unicorn as a point of reference: Kimono, the manager of the ponies’ car wash. But nothing Trixie had done so far was anything different than things I’d seen Kimono do repeatedly, as if they were mundane chores. Granted, Penn & Teller would probably love to have the ability to levitate things for real. She’s probably saving her best material for a grand finale.
“Trick-or-treat!” Three colts were standing in front of me, candy bags open. One was dressed up like a chimera, a mishmash of animal parts; another had dyed his coat red and had a pair of fake arms and horns that made him look like a centaur; while the last had dyed his fur tan and his mane grayscale. Thanks to Toola’s love of action-adventure novels, I recognized the character he was portraying as Daring Do.
The foals weren’t mesmerized by Trixie and were still trick-or-treating, even if their human counterparts were distracted. I reached into the candy dish in my car’s trunk and distributed three pieces of candy to each of them. There were eight different varieties of candy, so between them I made sure they got one of each, and a different flavor of the duplicate. That way if they don’t like them, they can trade amongst themselves.
They thanked me and dashed off to the next car, which for them was the Sera. They also marveled over the way the doors opened, then each selected a toy car, forsaking the candy entirely.
Kids and foals in costumes ranging from pretty princesses to gruesome zombies continued making their rounds, and I divvied out candy like it was going out of style.
“Trick-or-treat!” A filly dressed like a ladybug and a colt dressed as Peter Pan each held out sacks and I dropped candy inside.
“Thank you!” They were about to dash off when I got a good look at the pony who was with them. Dressed in a black and purple Spandex flight suit that covered everything but her snout, wings, and ears, I wouldn’t have recognized Flitter if not for her hair. She’d forgotten to remove the bow from her mane, and it looked completely out of place with the otherwise spooky ensemble. There was even a pony skull where her dragonfly cutie mark would normally go.
“I had no idea you were going through an emo phase, Flit.”
“I’m a Shadowbolt.”
“What’s that?”
She shrugged. “According to Rainbow Dash it was the name of a fictional organization that was competing with the Wonderbolts. Something Nightmare Moon dreamed up to try and dissuade her from accepting the Element of Loyalty. But she had the costume laying around so I asked if I could borrow it for the night. My sister wouldn’t let me borrow one of her Wonderbolts’ outfits.” She snorted and flicked her tail.
That obviously meant something back in Equestria, so I nodded like I knew what she was talking about.
I didn’t have time to chat, as a filly dressed like a wolf bounded up. “Trunk-or-treat.”
I snickered at that and dropped candy into her basket. She hoofed the basket to the filly standing next to her and then pounced on top of the filly in the ladybug costume. The ladybug shrieked and they tussled on the ground. “Grrr! The big bad wolf is going to eat you!” She pinned the other filly and booped her snout. “Tag! You’re it!” She leapt off the bewildered ladybug and dashed away.
“It is so on!” The ladybug galloped after her, bag of candy completely forgotten.
Flitter and Rumble scooped her sweets back into the bag. “I think somepony’s had too much sugar.” I turned to the filly the wolf had been standing next to and dropped some candy in her bag.
As the foals moved on to other cars I noticed that the Great and Powerful Trixie had lost her audience. Kids started swarming me and I doled out candy as quickly as possible. I realized just how out of touch I was with pop culture – I didn’t recognize most of the costumes. Superheroes, cartoon characters, video game stars… they were lost on me. Some of the children were even dressed up as ponies. I wonder how the ponies feel about that?
The kids seemed to come and go in waves, and as things settled down I started chatting with the owners of the cars parked near me – the butterfly-doored Toyota and a red Chevy Cobalt SS. Common ground wasn’t hard to find – it was a car show, after all. We talked about cars while we passed out candy, and we all cringed every time Trixie once more proclaimed herself to be both ‘Great’ and ‘Powerful’.
“Are all ponies like that?”
“No. I’ll introduce you to some normal ones later. Most of them are actually super nice. But, like people, there are some you just want to whack upside the head with a rolled-up newspaper. Someone ought to tell her there’s a fine line between being a show-off and being arrogant.”
They snickered at that and we sat back down in our folding chairs to watch the parade of miniature witches, superheroes, and vampires. I had to refill my candy basket thrice – far and away a better turnout than my neighborhood ever got. The more kids there, the less candy I’d be stuck eating after the fact. They’ve got the metabolism to burn it off.
“Trick-or-treat!”
I recognized that voice. “Hi Minty.” I dropped some candy in her bucket, and followed suit for Toola, Cee-Cee, and Petunia. “Flitter and Rumble are around.”
“We caught up to them over by that cobweb car. This is our last row and then we’re done. I’ll pass out candy for you and you can go look at all the cars.”
I pointed to what little was left in the 500-piece bag of candy. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago it had been filled to the bursting with Nerds, Bottle Caps, SweeTarts, Laffy Taffy, and the like. “By the time you get back there might not be any candy left to pass out.”
She giggled. “And that’s why we’re not stopping to chat. You’re not the only one running low on candy. Onward, fillies, to victory!”
I could see why the fillies had opted to go trick-or-treating with Minty instead of their parents. She was really into it. Makes sense, she’s just a big filly at heart. Their next stops were the cars adjacent to mine, and I took note of the reactions of those cars’ owners to interacting with the pastel ponies.
Once Minty and the girls had moved on I spoke up. “And those would be the ponies I promised I’d introduce you to later. And I will, just as soon as they finish getting candy.”
“They seem nice.”
“They are.”
Across from us, more trick-or-treaters had been drawn in by Trixie’s spiel.
“Trick-or-treat!”
“If it’s a trick you want, prepare to be amazed!” The great and powerful Trixie lit her horn, and it glowed as bright as it could in a well-lit parking lot.
A couple of kids oohed in appreciation, but a pegasus filly stomped a hoof in frustration. She’d dyed her coat a soft pink, but I couldn’t tell if her pastel blue hair was natural or not. It had been done up in curls, like Shirley Temple’s hair. A crudely drawn rook had been taped onto her flank. “Any unicorn can do that. We want candy!”
“Well you did specify ‘trick’ or ‘treat’ and the Great and Powerful Trixie has provided a trick as asked. Now do be a good little pony and wander off. For the rest of you, I shall offer another trick! Prepare to be dazzled!”
Trixie was unlike any other pony I’d met previously. I found her as fascinating as I did appalling. Loud, obnoxious, egomaniacal, and boastful, she reminded me more of a human politician. If I had to sum her up in one word, it would be arrogant. While she was performing some simple parlor tricks and sleights of hoof, what bothered me most of all was her claims that only ‘powerful wizards’ could pull off feats like lighting up their horn or levitating small objects. I knew that to be a complete fabrication.
Yet she was amusing the kids, most of whom probably hadn’t seen a unicorn before, so it was mostly harmless. There was no denying that her flair for the dramatic had stage presence. If it had been my first time seeing a unicorn I would’ve been impressed, too. Instead, I was a bit disappointed.
Flitter and Rumble had finished their rounds and landed next to me, so I took the opportunity to enquire after Equestrian magicians. My only points of reference for human counterparts were Siegfried & Roy and Penn & Teller, and it was hardly fair to compare illusionists who had no magic of their own to unicorn magicians who did.
“I was under the impression that any unicorn could do magic.”
“They can. There are a few things any unicorn can do, like levitation and lighting their horns, but a unicorn’s most powerful magic is related to their special talent.”
“So if a unicorn’s special talent is magic, for example?”
“Then they can do a variety of things. Like Trixie, for example. As unicorns go, she’s got a fairly broad repertoire of tricks at her disposal.”
“So she really is great and powerful?”
Flitter laughed. “No. Don’t get me wrong, she’s good, but it’s hard to be impressed when you know Starlight Glimmer and Twilight Sparkle. The first time Trixie came to Ponyville she started lashing out at the audience when some ponies started heckling her. If she asks for volunteers, don’t do it. Starlight and Trixie are friends, and Trixie’s act has improved immensely with Starlight’s tutorage. But Trixie’s never going to have her raw magical talent.”
“Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something sweet to bite!” I wasn’t the only one underwhelmed by the ‘Great and Powerful’ Trixie. Kids talk. Adults don’t always listen, but other kids often will. Toola, Cee-Cee, and Petunia had caught onto her and forced her into a situation she couldn’t get out of. “Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something sweet to bite!”
Trixie was caught completely by surprise. “But Trixie is here for trick-or-treating. Trixie only has tricks.”
“Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something sweet to bite!”
“Trixie does not have candy. Now go away.”
“Nightmare Night, what a fright. Give me something sweet to bite!”
“If you’re that unimpressed with the Great and Powerful Trixie, prove yourselves Trixie’s superior. Anything you can do, I can do better. Guaranteed.”
Flitter’s hoof struck her forehead. “Please tell me they’re not falling for it.”
“They fell for it. Toola’s drawing a picture on the parking lot. Does she always keep chalk in her saddlebags?”
“Yes.”
It was like watching a filly Bob Ross. The drab gray of the tarmac transformed as Toola drew a portrait of Trixie. Ponies and kids alike cheered her on.
“Oh! Now add a T. rex chasing her!”
I didn’t even have to look to know who’d suggested that one.
“Not bad. Of course, even an amateur can make a masterpiece when the Great and Powerful Trixie is their muse! Now watch how a pro does it.” She conjured paints from nowhere… and then dumped them on top of Toola Roola.
I handed Flitter a twenty. “There’s a Target in the next shopping complex. Get some shampoo and anything else you can think of.” She nodded and took off, Rumble following.
Trixie wasn’t done yet; opting to use Toola’s tail as a horsehair brush, she levitated the filly, smearing paint across the parking lot to guffaws from the audience. “Now this is a masterpiece.” She dropped Toola to the ground with a thud.
I strolled over, the Cobalt’s owner right behind me. “That was completely uncalled for. They’re kids, they just want some candy.”
She looked us over, unimpressed. A lot of people made the mistake of thinking ponies were weak and helpless, but that wasn’t the case. All ponies had the ability to buck, and a direct hit could do serious damage to a human. Unicorns like Trixie, meanwhile, could potentially have powerful spells at their command. I hadn’t been overly impressed with her, but I couldn’t completely dismiss her, either.
“At the very least, give them a trick worthy of replacing a treat.” An out. All she has to do is put up or shut up.
“Very well then. Trixie shall turn you into a toad.”
Whack!
Trixie lost her balance upon being struck with the whiptail of Petunia’s costume. Thrown off balance, the blast of magic she’d intended for me instead scorched to my left. The magic beam hit the Toyota Sera instead, and the car took flight after the butterfly doors morphed into butterfly wings.
“Trixie can cast Transmogrify?” She paused briefly. “Trixie means of course the Great and Powerful Trixie can cast Transmogrify. Trixie might not be able to ascend to alicorn through the magic of friendship, but the Great and Powerful Trixie will cast it again and make Trixie an alicorn!” She nodded, satisfied with herself. “You’d do well to back down before the Soon-to-be-Alicorn Trixie casts it on you too. Trixie thinks you’d make a nice kumquat.”
The owner of the Toyota that had flown the coop joined us in facing down the obnoxious unicorn. She soon found herself surrounded by parents who’d realized she’d pulled a fast one on their kids. Trixie tried to get into her van, but was dismayed to discover Coconut Cream smugly sitting in the driver seat. “Leaving so soon?” Cee-Cee dangled the VW’s keys. “You really shouldn’t leave these in the ignition.”
Trixie’s horn lit up and she tried to take the keys from Coconut, but before she could levitate them away from the filly, Petunia whacked her with the tail of her costume yet again. Trixie stumbled, and instead of grabbing the keys, her magic grasped the van’s door and pulled it off its hinges.
To her credit, she knew when to quit. She threw some smoke bombs, and by the time visibility was restored she was galloping off into the distance. I could’ve caught up to her pretty easily in my Mustang, but I decided it wasn’t worth it. The ponies knew her, and more importantly, they knew where I could have her van towed. Wait ‘til she gets the bill for a tow all the way to the School of Friendship in Ponyville.
Toola was more important, and I crouched down next to her. “You okay?”
“My pride hurts.”
I nodded. “That all that hurts?”
“Yeah. And my Daryl Hall costume is wrecked.”
I helped her out of her ruined costume, depositing the remains in a trash can, then led her across the parking lot to the self-service car wash. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of the car washes that also offered pet washes. “You’re not a car, but at least we can get you washed up.”
I dropped some quarters in the machine and started spraying water on her. I stood a few feet away from her and used the lowest setting, not wanting to pressure wash her.
It wasn’t long before Flitter landed next to me. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo out of the bag and started lathering it into Toola’s coat, mane, and tail. She grabbed a washcloth and started scrubbing the poor filly. I continued rinsing her when indicated, and dropped quarters into the machine as needed.
Once Toola was as clean as we could get her, Flitter toweled her dry while I returned to the crowd still gathered around Trixie’s van. The Toyota Sera’s owner was dejectedly looking at the Chinese restaurant. I followed his gaze to find his car perched on the roof, looking down on all of us. It slowly flapped its newfound wings, like a bird shifting positions.
The few unicorns present conferred amongst themselves, and managed to levitate the car off the roof and restrain it so it couldn’t fly away again. Unfortunately, none of them knew how to cast Transmogrify, so they couldn’t turn the flying car back into a normal one. All they could do was tie it to the mall’s sign and wait until a more powerful unicorn could be brought in.
The crowd started thinning out, and most of those gathered took the opportunity to pack up and leave for the night.
Minty was sitting next to my car, her pumpkin-shaped candy bucket filled to capacity. I chuckled. “At least somepony had fun.”
She nodded, as her mouth was too full of Laffy Taffy to speak.
“Flitter mentioned that Trixie is friends with some powerful unicorn. What’s her name?”
Minty swallowed the candy. “Starlight Glimmer.”
I quickly scrawled a note to Starlight and taped it to the inside of the front window of the van. There was no way she could miss it. At that point a police officer stepped up. I guess someone called the cops. He slapped a parking boot on the van, rendering it immobile.
Once the cars had been dealt with, I picked Petunia up and hugged her. “You saved me this time. Thank you.” I set her down and booped her nose. “You’re awesome.”
She nuzzled me. “You would’ve done the same for me. And you did!”
In her mind we were even, but in mine I felt I owed her. Her close encounter was more theoretical. I’d seen what would’ve happened to me if I’d been hit. Best case scenario: I’d have some new wings. Worst case scenario… I didn’t want to think about it. Even though I know better than to underestimate a unicorn, I underestimated a unicorn. She’d underestimated herself, too, if her shock at having pulling off the spell was anything to go by. I wonder what she actually expected to happen? More smoke and mirrors intended to mask what she was really doing?
I stopped thinking about it. Close calls are just that – nothing more, and nothing less. I reached down and scratched Petunia behind the ears. She wagged her tail, and the ridiculously long tail of her costume wagged with it.
“Nice move using your costume's tail to whack Trixie.”
“That’s what paleontologists think sauropods used as a defense mechanism.” She turned around and I jumped out of the way as the tail whizzed by.
“Easy there. Let’s not wreck any of the cars. Or me, for that matter.” I grabbed hold of the costume’s head, which was several feet in front of her, and used it as a leash to walk her back to my car. “Is this costume scale accurate?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I measured myself and then calculated how long the neck and tail would have to be to compensate for the size of my legs and barrel. Diplodocids had the most flexible necks and tails of all sauropods, so I made the costume really flexible. Especially since I need to move around in it. I want to see if I can crack the tail like a whip and make a sonic boom!”
“Please wait until you’re safely at home, in your backyard, before attempting to do so.”
She huffed. “Fine.”
“Now let’s find the others and go get some ice cream. I think we’ve all earned a treat after tonight.”