"Now where in tarnation is that agricultural buildin'?" I have this habit of wisperin' to myself; helps the gears in the head get a'crankin'. Anyway, I was in the middle of Canterlot University, holding a map Twilight drew of the campus. It wasn't the most clearest thing in the world. You know what, let's just say I finally figured out why Spike did all her letter writing. But it was the only thing I had, so I had to use it.
I wandered around, trying to find the spot where the map began, and which of the buildings were represented by the squiggles that tried to be circles and squares. It didn't help none that all the buildings looked like castle with unreasonably high towers. "She didn't even put a compass rose on here," I said. At least with that I could have orient the map correctly.
While I was tryin' to find where the heck I was on this catawampus campus, I spotted three unicorns not too far from her, all looking like they've never seen an honest day's work. The first was a stallion, with a charcoal coat and hair redder than a barn. The second a mare with a gold coat and white hair with pink stains in it. I think Rarity calls 'em highlights, but the only highlighting' that's ever made any sense to me are lampposts, if ya know what I mean.
The last one was a real shy guy, nothing too special about him. Just a blond mane an' blue fur. I tell ya, after the whole thing was over, I wondered why such a gentle colt like him would ever hang around those varmints. Anywho, I'm getting ahead of myself.
So I go up to these three and ask, "Do any of ya'all know where the agricultural buildin' is?" And before I could breath my two-bits, the charcoal one suspends me using his telekinesis. It didn't feel nothing like Twilight's. Instead of there bein' no gravity, it felt like I was bein' hoisted up like hay to a mow of a barn, with all this thick tentacle like thing twisting around me—despite it looking like any regular telekinesis spell.
"Hay! What in Celestia's good name are ya doin'?!" I yell.
"Look here Cat," The grey devil says to her, "looks like one of those so-called country bumpkins lost there way back to the farm." He turns to me an' says, "Are you lost, little bumpkin," like I'm some newborn foal! 'Cat' can sinkers like he's some hot-headed comedian, while the other one just gives a nervous laugh.
"Now see here," I says to them, "I ain't no country bumpkin, and I ain't lookin' for my home."
But this time, 'Cat' interrupts me an' says in a fake, uppidy Mainhatten accent, "We do get a few of these wondering around on campus, and they leave quite a mess, not being domesticated, if you know what I mean. Oh, and did you know bumpkins happen to be our evolutionary ancestors."
"I did not," the grey one said in the same fake accent, playin' with her whatever sick game these university folks play on innocent, hard-workin' ponies. "That would explain why she resembles our species, and why I find her somewhat fetching."
"Oh stop it Electrolyte, you know how I feel about when you joke like that. Even if you're not serious, I still detest even the idea of such brutish attractions." Now I'll tell you, I might not know as many words as Twilight, but it don't take an English professor to tell me what they meant by "brutish attractions."
"Please excuse me, darling," Electrolyte says, "I have yet to recover from the crudeness of my days in the freshcolt's dorms. Isn't that true, Absolute?" He nudged his other stallion buddy.
"Y-Yeah," he whisper out. I swear, that colt was so quiet that he'd make a mouse's squeak seem loud. "You know guys, I don't think-"
"Besides," Electrolyte interrupted, "how could I ever be attracted to such a rough mare? I mean it looks like she takes steroids for crying out loud! Her's is inferior to your petite body, Catalyst.
"And besides," he continued as he yanked my back leg hoof a few feet from his face. "Look at these soft hooves. Obviously she has spent all her days on some backward farm and probably has the mental capacity of the hay she shoves around. If she had been in the city and filling her little cup with any appreciable knowledge, it would be shown by tough, respectable hooves from traversing the cobblestone paths."
"NOW LISTEN HERE!" I shout.
"Oh look Electrolyte, it can talk!" Catalyst says, one hoof pressed against her cheek like she's just seen a blue bolder or something. "Do you think it can understand us?"
"I doubt it," Electrolyte says mater-o-factly. "Early ponies only had the ability to copy the sounds around them, then later developed sentient communication. Her speaking is no more than a parrot."
"Do you think she'll repeat what we say?" Catalyst asks.
"I would not know for sure. She might not be that intelligent, but you can certainly try." Electrolyte then yanked my head over to her's. He got me so close to her I could smell the frilly fru-fru perfume she had dumped over her body. It was worse than the first time I met Rarity!
"Here, lets have her say something fun!" she says. She turns her head at me, looks at me like I was two, an' says, "Polly want a cracker?" To which I just roll my eyes. I didn't want to waist any more words on them two varmints.
Then, out of the blue, she slaps me an' says, "How dare you roll your eyes at me!" She lifts up her hoof again. By the way, she lost her accent. "I'll teach you to-"
"Darling," Electrolyte says, holding back her hoof and dragging me back a few feet into the air. "You have to remember, she doesn't know what she's doing. You'll have to forgive her temper," he says to me, "she does not appreciate ponies rolling her eyes at her."
"It's not like she can understand you," Catalysts scoffed, still keeping up with the charade. I almost felt bad for her, it really looked like I snapped a heartstring or something.
"I know, I just don't want our specimen getting too mad. Here." I feel one of them magic tentacles wrap around my hat. "You can have her... rather crude piece of headwear." He took off my hat. "I know it may not be the prettiest in your collection, but think of how all your other hats will look in comparison to it." He insulted my hat!
Now let me tell you something. There are a few things you don't do to any respectable country folk: spit in their face, burn their crops, or take off their hat. Now I'm embarrassed to say that I sort of lost it at this point, but the way they all were treatin' me like I was some stupid beast, I think they deserved it.
Anyway, next thing I knew I twisted one of those tentacles around my mussel like a lasso with it's other end 'round a bull, and I bit as hard as I could. Electrolyte gave a good yelp and all other twisting, magical appendages immediately retracted, except for the one I held in my maw. I wouldn't let that one go for anything.
Catalyst back up and charged her horn. "Disengage the spell!" the quiet one instinctively shouted at him. "I can't, she's-" but before Electrolyte could say any more, I yanked the stallion into the air, spun him 'round and then sent him flyin' on a one way trip to the other side of Canterlot.
Next his little mare-friend tries to pull the same spell on me, floatin' me high into the air. "You're going to pay for that," she snorts. Her telekinesis felt more like a bowl of gelatin, so I figure if I start kicking something is bound to happen. Sure enough, I saw a few indents in her gut, so I give her one good buck, sending her off sky high. Whoo whee you should have seen it; she flew higher than a hawk off a catapult. Er, don't tell Fluttershy I said that.
So after she's out of sight, I land carefully on the ground, dust off my good-old hat before putting it on, and says to the last of 'em, "Now would ya be so kind—pardon me." Ya see, I didn't get to finish my statement 'cus I had to be polite an' all and step out of the way of Catalyst. Wouldn't want anything impeding her from being implanted in the cobblestone. I doubt those hard hooves of hers helped her none to much.
"If ya would," I says, "could ya please tell me where the ag-grey-cultural buildin' is?" Poor guy, I must of scared the him half to death; he was shakin' harder 'en a fat pig in a message chair. Still, he managed to get his hoof pointed in the right direction. "I thank ya kindly," I says, "and next time, make sure yer friends don't mess with any more of us country folk. Oh," (and here's my favorite part) "if your friends truly desire to emulate the dialect of a true Manehatten, then they need to lengthen their o's more. The way they spoke, even the most brutish of ponies could have told that they were simple imposters."
