The Happy and Gleeful Trixie
Canterlot is no place for a beggar. Trixie learned this the moment she arrived. Every day she returned to her wagon with her hat nearly empty, spare bits from the generous ponies lining the inside of its tip. Every day she would just sigh and dream of something better. Every night she would dream; of kind ponies giving her more than just a few bits for her performances, of ponies spinning stories of fantastical performances given by the show mare, of a big break that would save her flank. Her dreams were sadistic like that—or so Trixie liked to think.
To Trixie, her dreams only tormented her, showing her visions of grandeur. Trixie would always be very strong with magic and she would have all the bits she ever needed. Trixie hated those dreams. They always teased her, made her think it was all real, only to abruptly dissipate with her alarm clock. Sometimes Trixie wonders if it was Luna giving her those dreams as a sort of payback for messing with her friends and kicking Twilight Sparkle out of Ponyville for a little while. Trixie always dismissed that thought. She was an honest mare now. She didn’t con or steal or even accept charity. She always worked for her bits, however little she got at the end of each day.
It was late afternoon when Trixie stumbled into her wagon. She had learned – from a couple of ruffians calling themselves Canterlot guards – that the spot in which she normally performed feats of magical wonder, was actually a lot, and not just an empty space between two storefronts. In hindsight, Trixie confessed that she should have seen that earlier and made the connection, but she was too focused on her performances and keeping her bits safe from thieves at the same time. Now her wagon was parked near a stationery on the quiet side of town, well away from any heavy traffic, and more importantly, an audience.
Trixie threw off her hat and cloak, letting them fall where they would fall and stay there. She hadn’t the energy to hang them properly. She trotted wearily to a makeshift kitchen, sliding into the chair at a very small table for one. Something furry brushed past her legs and gave a soft meow. She reached into a cabinet above her and felt around, bringing down a small box of cat food and a bowl. Trixie had found the cat on a road to Canterlot, half-starved and visibly ill from its hardships. It had looked much like how she felt at the time – stuck in depression from what she did to Ponyville.
Trixie had stopped in a town along the road and entered a pet store, requesting some medicine and a kit for first-time pet owners. The kit came with a number of samples for different kinds of cat food, and a free food bowl as part of a current sale. She set everything up in her wagon, including a litter box, a small scratching post with a toy attached at its top, and the food bowl. As she set it down, Trixie noticed something scrawled on the side. She picked it back up with her magic to examine it. Amulet. Trixie nearly dropped the bowl. As if by some cruel twist of fate she was assaulted by her mistakes. She became awash with a renewed sense of remorse. She remembered how she had blown all of her hard-earned bits on that... thing. All it got her was more trouble and pain. She could never make up for what she had done to Ponyville; what she had done to Twilight.
Tears formed on the corners of Trixie’s eyes, eventually swelling and sliding down her face. She would name the cat Amulet, to remind her of the mare she used to be; to keep her from becoming that mare again. She would feed it, and love it, and take care of it. Despite her poverty, she would keep the cat as her friend, no matter what.
Hearing another meow, Trixie’s mind drifted back to the present. She lazily picked up the box and tilted it over the bowl with her magic. Placing the box back in the cabinet above her, she felt around with her hoof for something for her to eat. After a few moments of unsuccessful prodding, she rose from her chair to peer inside the cabinet. Trixie found nothing but the box of cat food. In the midst of the day’s insanity, she hadn’t profited any bits, thus, hadn’t any to buy groceries. Horsefeathers.
Glancing back at Amulet munching contentedly on the cat food, Trixie pondered her options. She could go hungry for the night, and just stick it out until she could come across some bits. But on the other hand, she never tried cat food before...
Realizing the unlikelihood of actually getting her hooves on any money right now, Trixie decided she would try the cat food. She retrieved a bowl of her own from the cabinet and brought the box down once more. Tilting over the box, Trixie poured her own bowl of cat food and retrieved a utensil from a drawer in the cabinet. Scooping up a spoonful, she brought it to her mouth and steeled herself. Gack. As she choked down the cereal-for-cats, Trixie became aware of a multitude of tastes; dried tomato, celery, carrots, and something she remembered smelling at a pier. The result was an assault on her taste buds, leaving her mouth dry and her throat screaming for water. The only upside was a hint of broccoli – Trixie’s favorite – and some sugar. Fetching a glass, she forcefully downed the rest of the bowl and chased it with some water.
After spending ten minutes in the alley outside her wagon dry-heaving, Trixie stumbled back inside. It was dark now, the visibility in her wagon so low that she had to feel around in the darkness. After a couple of steps her hoof caught on something furry and she tripped, falling headfirst onto her bed. She remained motionless for a while, allowing the full extent of shame bathe her with humility despite the lack of an audience to see it. She felt tear drops sliding down her face again. She rolled over to lie on her back and tried to calm down.
An unexpected surprise ruined her bliss. Without a sound, something landed on her stomach, abruptly knocking the air from her diaphragm with an audible oomph. As Trixie slowly regained the ability to breathe, her hoof fell to the furry creature that had settled on her exposed underside. She stroked it gently as she fell in and out of consciousness; the creature purring all the while as a makeshift lullaby. When she finally fell asleep, her face was drenched in silent tears, sparkling in the moonlight.
Author's Note
I didn't want to use editors (myself included) or double-check any grammar so if you find something wrong be sure to point it out in the meanest, nastiest way possible. Insults are welcome.
