Ponies, Please

Since the actions committed by the unknown, would-be assassin three days ago, Equestria has changed. President Twilight Sparkle’s castle was attacked, and a civil war was declared yesterday.

I didn’t know all the information about it, not like we were allowed to know everything anyhow, but from what it looks like humans are involved, as usual. The best description I’ve heard of it thus far is that Red and Blue are spilling in the streets, something about tensions from the human world turning up in ours. As long as the fighting didn’t enter into our city-state, Stalliongrad would remain uninvolved.

The ban on Equestrians was lifted today, and as expected, there was a very long line of humans and ponies alike attempting to escape their warring country. I don’t blame them. Didn’t make my job easier, though.

First up was a shifty eyed unicorn stallion, a few scratches and bruises covering his face as good an indicator as any that the civil war was getting ugly. I caught him trying to smuggle in a gun, the idiot thinking a coat could help conceal it. That isn’t flying here. I called security in instantly, and the stallion was brought back to his own chaotic country. Honestly, a part of me felt bad to bring him back to that hellhole. Yet, that feeling was buried within me, just like the bodies of my wife’s parents two days ago.

Survival of the fittest, as it’s usually said.

Jorji was next, and I was honestly happy to see him again, which was surprising. Even if he was an idiot, his smile was the only one I’ve seen in weeks. He had the same grin on his face, almost as if he didn’t know Equestrians were slaughtering each other. If anyone could be that happy during such hellish times, then they were either the biggest idiot in the world, or one of the most wicked.

Actually, now that I think about it, why the hell was he back? He had already gotten in, what was the point in getting out just to return? Unless… oh yeah, the drug smuggling.

“Papers, please,” I asked, as per our usual conversation whenever he arrived.

“Sure, friend! I come back to Stalliongrad, still best country! The very best!” He handed me his passport from three days ago, and everything seemed to check out fine. Sans his weight. Right away I noticed there was no way someone could gain that much in such a short amount of time when he stepped on the scale.

“Sir, would you mind telling me how you managed to gain over ten pounds from what it says your weight is?”

“Ah!” He seemed ecstatic. “Is drugs! You want?”

“Sir, drugs are illegal in Stalliongrad,” I told him, my hoof already hovering over the security button. “Just like everywhere else in this world.”

“No problem. I understand.” He said as I slammed down on the security button. “It’s okay. You do job. Maybe have some next time, right?”

“I don’t think so, sir.” I contemplated pressing the button. He had obviously admitted to wanting to bring illicit drugs into the city, yet at the same time, it would be like kicking a puppy while its down. Plus, the time for the guards to come and arrest him would cut into my time for inspecting those trying to enter the city. I had a quota to meet after all.

And I definitely didn’t want to bury anymore members of my family for not meeting that quota.

He left in his usual jolly demeanor, calling out over his shoulder, “Goodbye, friend, Stalliongrad still best country, the very best! So long, glory to Stalliongrad!”

And speaking of quotas not being filled, my boss came to meet me at work. Joy oh joy, what a pleasant surprise.

“Hello there, inspector,” my boss said, his bushy mustache covering his upper lip. “We have received a troublesome report from the East. The civil war in Equestria has been getting closer to the borders, as such we’re afraid we will have to cut your work short today.”

“But sir, I need to feed my family,” I said in protest.

“I’m sorry, you will receive pay for the two you submitted. I cannot give you anymore money.” He handed me my pay. A measly four bits. Barely enough afford tonight’s heating, much less food or medicine. “Glory to Stalliongrad.”

I had little food, a dying family, and now only a little pocket change.

“Glory to Stalliongrad,” I replied, saluting. Yes, glory to Stalliongrad indeed.