You Have Ten Seconds

Chapters

A Little Drafty
The Great Phil-Nifico
Very Manly
It's Just A Theory
Great Expectations
A Real Blowhard
You'd Get A Headache Too
Dress For Failure
I Have A Sixth Sense For These Things

A Little Drafty

0-0-0-0-0

I swear to god, it was a surprise fear boner.

Now, that has definitely got to be the weirdest sentence that I’ve ever spoken, and I say some pretty weird crap from time to time. So, in order to make myself sound slightly less… well, completely bonkers, I’m going to try to start from the beginning. Or at least, as close to the beginning as I can, anyway.

My name is Phil, but my friends call me Carrot Top which I friggin’ hate them for. I'm not a brony, which is a term for people who have a weird fascination with talking ponies. See, before I knew about Friendship is Magic, which is apparently what my brony friends were referring to, the only Carrot Top I knew of was the comedian.

And, seriously. That dude creeps me out.

I’m not even as much of a Brony as most of my friends are. I haven’t seen all the shows, I don’t know the names of every character, I’m not even all that enthusiastic about it in general. I sort of like ponies. It’s more of a ‘meh, yeah, it’s all right’ kind of reaction.

Except when it came to ‘clop’.

AND OH, GOD. WHEN I DISCOVERED ‘CLOP’.

I became slightly more enthusiastic, I’m a little ashamed to admit.

I’m a kind of short, wiry guy in high school. Glasses, brand name clothes, boring little life. Nothing out of the ordinary. And, like I said, I’m not even all that much of a Brony in the first place, which makes what happened seem just a little weird.

Actually, scratch that. My whole day has been weird, and a lot more than a little.

Jeez, I haven’t even started yet and my mind is so blown that I’m already getting sidetracked. Right, so… beginning.

It really wasn’t all that exciting.

I was walking home from school.

… No, seriously. That’s it.

Backpack slung over one shoulder, warm breeze while classmates ran past, and I was looking forward to some computer games over the weekend. Run of the mill, normal stuff. I didn’t even have much planned aside from what kind of Pop-Tart I was going to have the next morning.

And then, out of nowhere, everything is just… gone.

Not like just people, or anything; I mean absolutely everything. It was like being dunked into an inkwell. No light, no sound, no feeling; for a few seconds, I thought I’d just suffered a brain hemorrhage or something. Got to admit, I wasn’t really looking forward to passing away at the ripe old age of sixteen.

At first, when everything went dark, I think I was kind of in, like, this state of shock. I mean, if you lost all of your senses all at once, can you really say that you’d have your head on straight?

… And that’s my defense for why I woke up crying like a bitch.

I’d love to say that I handled the whole situation with a level head, that I just took it all in stride and kept my cool. But honestly? I get freaked out if I find a hair in my peanut butter. Seriously, I was not well equipped to deal with a situation like this.

So, there I was, lying on the cool tiling of somebody’s bathroom and huddled up in the fetal position and crying like a little girl when several things occurred to me at once.

First of all, I was clearly not dead. And, dude, I cannot begin to tell you how much that thrills me, right there.

Secondly, I was very, very, very not clothed. I have no idea where my clothes went to, along with my backpack. Stark freakin’ naked as the day I was born, shivering on the floor, even though there was definitely some steam in the air from hot running water nearby.

Thirdly, there was something seriously wrong with my perception. I mean, at first, I thought that maybe that hemorrhage had screwed with my brain more than I thought (like a hemorrhage doesn’t already screw with your brain) because everything came in more… sharply? I guess? Colors were definitely brighter, like the pigments were just stronger all around.

And finally, when I garnered the oh so impressive level of strength to lift my head a few inches, I found myself staring directly into the extremely curvaceous flank of one slightly stunned looking captain of the Wonderbolts. I think about half the blood in my body went straight to my face upon seeing that.

"Duh..."

Fantastic introduction. Genius.

“… You have ten seconds to explain what you are and how you got into my home, and then I’m going to throw you off of this cloud.”

“… Don’t you mean ‘or’?”

Brilliant, brain. I am so glad that I can come up with something so ingenious when under pressure. Really.

God, I’m an idiot.

Spitfire, who I most definitely recognized from a few (er hem) extracurricular image searches, seemed slightly more surprised that I could talk at all.

For a while, the only noise in the bathroom was that of the hot shower water steadily pouring out and pooling in the floor, Spitfire obviously caught just as she was about to enter it. And, I’ll admit, from that particular position, some pretty uncomfortable mental images unwillingly came to mind, regardless of the fact that I was both in a state of shock and terrified out of my wits.

Hence, surprise fear boner.

“Tick tock.”

“I-I don’t know!” I spluttered, doing my best to cover what I could of myself with my hands. Really, maybe I should have taken Dad’s advice on joining some sports teams a little more seriously, putting on some bulk. God, I would have loved to have some bigger hands right then.

You know what I would have loved even more?

Pants.

“Six. Five,” Spitfire deadpanned, the yellow pegasus slowly stepping toward me. And believe me when I say that the surprisingly graceful sashay across the floor, in combination with a level stare and wet mane was really not helping the situation.

“MY NAME IS PHIL AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON, SPITFIRE!”

Maybe shouting in her face like a lunatic wasn’t the best idea.

“I don’t know!” I panicked, scrabbling back against the wall. “I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know anything! I swear!”

She actually froze for a second, glaring down at me with what I’m pretty sure was the fires of hell burning in her eyes.

“You seem to know my name moderately well, creature.”

Awwwwwww, crap.

“… Lucky guess?” I shrugged, grinning weakly. I get the feeling revealing certain aspects of being part of what I'd assumed was merely a show wouldn't be too bright. Also, it’s hard to shrug properly with your hands between your legs. I never knew that.

“Lie to me again,” she poked a damp hoof against my chest, her stare burning a hole in my head. “And you’ll be going off of this cloud at mach two.”

I’m on a cloud?

“Now, feel like saying something truthful, or do I have to throw you against the ground and see if any comes out that way?”

“Uh… you have… very pretty eyes? Er… Spitfire… ma’am?” I struggled.

… What?

It’s true.

Besides, I already said that I don’t perform well under pressure. I’m also going to pretend that it totally wasn’t those caramel colored irises that were making me sweat. In hindsight, I was probably pushing my luck pretty badly, because she did seem about as freaked out as I was. I guess she was just tackling the situation head on, or something.

“… You know, my mother always told me that flattery will get you everywhere,” Spitfire chortled finally, thankfully backing away a step. I hadn’t really realized just how much I was holding my breath, and I exhaled hard when she backed off.

“Heh heh, yeah,” I scratched the back of my head, trying to look casual before realizing that I had stupidly left myself uncovered yet again.

“And that’s Miss Spitfire,” she suddenly gave me a heated look that would have made Medusa cringe. “… ‘Phil’,” Spitfire let the unfamiliar word roll over her tongue as she slowly turned off the water. “Stop cowering already. I hate to see a grown stallion cowering. It’s pathetic.”

“Right, right,” I nodded dimly. “Sure, Sp-uh, Miss Spitfire.”

I must have looked kind of like an idiot, because I just sat there for a few seconds.

“Um… can I have, like… a towel, or... something? Please?” I asked in what I hoped was a pleasant demeanor. She just kept staring at me like I was some kind of alien; although technically, I guess I kind of was. When she looked at me curiously and tilted her head a little, I glanced downward to my lap. Thankfully, she got the hint.

“Oh, I get it,” Spitfire nodded, pulling an unexpectedly soft towel from a rack and tossing it to me. “Not necessarily much to be proud of, eh, stallion?”

I changed my mind. I hate ponies.

0-0-0-0-0

Author's Note

There are too many Human in Equestria stories.
I am so sorry for adding to that list.
Although, from the surprisingly positive reaction this has received, I guess people want me to continue.

The Great Phil-Nifico

0-0-0-0-0

By the time ‘Miss’ Spitfire finally gave me a towel, the novelty of the whole situation had pretty much worn off completely.

And totally not because she just made fun of the size of my junk.

… Shut up.

The towel she gave me was kind of fluffy, but a little small for my waist. And, like I said, I’m not even all that big. She led me down a hallway toward what I guess was her living room, the tiled floor evening out into hardwood flooring. What really threw me off, though, was that the ceiling was composed entirely of clouds.

Meaning that it kind of hit me right then that I really was on a cloud.

And it should have been totally obvious, because she even threatened to throw me off of a cloud.

Also meaning that I started thinking really, really hard about being on a cloud.

Guess who’s deathly afraid of heights?

Don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it don’t think about it!

“Stop twitching, will you?” Spitfire kept her eye on me, guiding me into the wider area of her living room. “That’s really starting to creep me out.”

Apparently, I was kind of hyperventilating a little, and Spitfire was nice enough to lead me to a small couch before my legs stopped working completely.

She began to leave for the front door, and I started up after her before she jabbed a hoof at me.

“No,” she said sternly like I was an unruly puppy. “You stay put. Don’t touch anything, don’t move from that spot.”

“What?” I asked, a little wounded. “What did I do?”

“I’m going to go get a professional,” Spitfire explained. “And maybe get some answers as to what’s going on, what you are, and how you got into my house. Unless you’d like to save me a trip?” she proffered, obviously expecting some kind of answer from me. Unfortunately, all I could offer was a weak shrug.

“Good,” she nodded, tugging open the front door before lifting off. “Don’t fly away while I’m gone.”

Oh, ha, ha, ha.

Hilarious.

I’ll admit, it was kind of cool watching Spitfire take off. The brush of her mane from her face as she prepped herself, the coiling muscles as she prepared to pounce like the world’s most aerodynamic cat, her slowly falling and rising Cutie Mark. The bob of her tail as it sashayed between her legs as she elegantly rose, the fiery –

“ –k.”

“What?” I asked, blinking suddenly as the towel mysteriously became uncomfortably smaller.

“I said, why are you staring at my flank?” Spitfire frowned, glaring daggers at me. I think that I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I couldn’t really get anything intelligible to come out other than a few panicky chuckles as I utterly failed to defend myself.

She stared hard at me for a minute before flaring her nostrils, taking off and kicking the door closed behind her.

Like I was going to chase after her, or something.

Or maybe it was just a matter of principle, I dunno.

“Hey, Soarin! Come take a look at this thing!”

0-0-0-0-0

“Hmmm,” the light blue-grey stallion peered through a magnifying glass at me that he held in one hoof. “Yep. It’s definitely freaky.”

“He,” I corrected him, backing away slightly so as not to be poked in the eye by the pointy-looking mane. “And my name is Phil.”

“You have a name?” Spitfire seemed a little surprised, and cocked an eyebrow. Soarin, as it would seem he was called, tucked away his magnifying glass into a bright blue jumpsuit he wore, giving me an unsatisfied frown.

“Well, I don’t have a clue,” Soarin shrugged. “He’s obviously some kinda monkey, though.”

“What?” I yelped, a little offended. And weirded out that I was still nearly naked with another dude this close to me, too. Seriously, there’s more than one reason I’m not too into sports. I’m just not… good in locker rooms. Too many other guys in close proximity to my junk.

… It has nothing to do with size!

“Whoa, easy there, fella,” Soarin backed away sharply, apparently afraid that I was going to bite him. “Take it easy, take it easy. Don’t have to get all riled up there, boy…”

It took me a minute to realize that the tone he was talking to me in was like that of a person talking to a spooked dog, and considering the fact that it was a pony talking to me, that freaked me out all over again.

“So, basically, you’re telling me that you’re just as useless as he is,” Spitfire nodded toward me.

“Ouch,” I cringed, touching my bare chest. “My ego.”

Soarin snorted, grinning a little.

“Okay, okay,” he nodded. “So, uh… Phil,” he let the word roll off of his tongue. “… Crap, Spit, I don’t even know where to start, to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, prompting Spitfire to pinch the bridge of her nose in agitation.

Which I don’t even know how she did that, with hooves.

Weird.

She sighed heavily, and muttered “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

After a few moments, she cleared her throat, serious look returning. I was beginning to think that was her default face.

“Right,” Spitfire said, suddenly no-nonsense. “Phil. Let’s start at the beginning. First of all, what are you?”

“I come from –”

“I don’t care.” She cut me off promptly, stamping a hoof against the floor. “Try to keep it one word or short answers, as clear and concise as possible. Lie to me and you’re taking a quick drop and a sudden stop. Understood?” Spitfire tilted her head toward the door.

Yikes.

I think my eyes nearly bugged out of my head, and I shook it so hard that my head felt fuzzy for a few seconds.

“What are you?”

“Human,” I answered truthfully. Spitfire turned slightly toward the blue-grey pegasus, who only shrugged again.

“Next question,” she seemed to be satisfied enough with that one. “How did you get into my house?”

“No clue,” I shook my head honestly again.

“Next question,” Spitfire nodded. “How in the blue blazes did you know my name?”

Ohhhhh, crap.

I froze, thinking fast. It was obvious that the panic was on my face, though, because she suddenly gave me this really hard look, eyeing toward the door again.

“Um… uh…!” I stuttered, suddenly feeling very exposed in my towel. “Well, uh, heh heh, funny story-”

“Tick tock,” she pointed toward the door slowly.

“I’m psychic!” I lied quickly, throwing up my hands.

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

Soarin seemed to be a little surprised, but the look of doubt on Spitfire’s face was so heavy I’m surprised it didn’t hurt her chin.

“Psychic,” she repeated dubiously with an unbelieving stare.

“Uh, yeah,” I chuckled weakly. “I have ESPN.”

They both just gaped at me for a couple of seconds, like I’d grown a second head.

“… How do we know you’re not lying?” Spitfire asked suspiciously. And, to be honest, that was a really good point. However, I had one of my better moments, and came up with a brilliant plan. See, I’m not the most attentive Brony out there, but I do pick up some things from time to time.

“Well,” I rolled up imaginary sleeves casually. “I can even read minds,” I bragged, plan unfolding in my head. Spitfire didn’t seem to believe me at all, but she wasn’t who I was trying to impress. I beckoned Soarin forward with one finger, and said “And to prove it, I want you to think of your favorite dessert.”

I don’t perform well under pressure.

I’ll admit, I probably sounded pretty corny.

But after a few seconds, Soarin screwed up his eyes in concentration, his face going blank. I waved my hands in what I hoped looked like a mystical fashion over his head, humming and ‘ohm’ing like the world’s biggest jackass. Or kind of like my uncle, he used to be a magician. He was actually pretty good, what with the sleight of hand tricks. Soarin definitely seemed to be a little creeped out, and his ears laid back flat.

“Your favorite food,” I said slowly, deliberately rolling my eyes back for effect. “That you are thinking of, right now, at this very point in time is…”

I drew it out for a few more seconds, making my hands shake.

“… PIE!” I shouted suddenly, and I had to fight to keep from laughing at the awestruck look on Soarin’s face when he gasped.

“Whoa, no way!” he breathed, mystified.

“Oh, come on,” Spitfire groaned, evidently skeptical. “That had to have been a lucky guess!”

“Behold the powers of the mighty Phil-nifico!” I waved my arms over my head, totally basking in having just blown Soarin’s mind. To be honest, it really wasn’t a smart thing to do, but I still figured my little lie was a lot better than telling them the truth about everything I know of their world coming from a cartoon.

Seriously, I figured that they had a bigger likelihood of believing that I was psychic.

“Right,” Spitfire said eventually, nudging the awestruck Soarin backwards away from me. “Okay. Mister ‘Psychic’,” she said disdainfully.

“You’re not still going to kill me, are you?” I asked in panic, nervously checking toward the door.

Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t you be able to tell if I were?”

“Oh, uh, um…” I tapped my fingers together uncomfortably. “It, uh… it doesn’t always, you know, work like that, and, uh…”

Yeah, I know. It sounded weak.

“Fine, great,” she cut me off, obviously not buying into my ‘psychic’ shtick. “Nopony is throwing you to the ground.”

I almost managed to breathe a sigh of relief before she continued.

“However, we are taking you to get you tested to find out where you came from.”

“Will there be needles?”

Surprisingly enough, the remark came from Soarin. Spitfire just stared at him for a second, running a hoof down her face in exasperation.

“No, Soarin. There aren’t – I mean, you aren’t the-” she let out a burst of agitated air, and ground her teeth. “Just get Phil and get him to ground level.”

“I get to fly with you guys?” I asked, suddenly very, very not-enthusiastic. The thought of hurling through the sky at high speeds, with no safety precautions whatsoever almost made me wish for a diaper instead of a towel.

“Aw, relax!” Soarin chortled. “It’ll be awesome.”

0-0-0-0-0

I barely managed to grip Soarin’s hooves as we plummeted toward the ground the towel long gone as it whipped into the air nearly the moment we took off. The ground rushed up to meet us, and I swear that I heard him laughing at my terrified screaming.

“NOT AWESOME! NOT AWESOME!”

0-0-0-0-0

Very Manly

0-0-0-0-0

“PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN!”

Have I ever mentioned that I have a real problem with heights?

I’m like the anti-Peter Pan. I’ve spent a good deal of my life on the ground, and I’ve got to admit, I’m pretty accustomed to walking around places on solid ground. I like walking without feeling like I’m going to drop to my death.

Thankfully, Soarin heard my totally not pitiful, very manly pleas of terror and oh-so-carefully lowered me to the ground at a gentle pace of about fucking Mach speed.

“For buck’s sake, Soarin,” Spitfire rolled her eyes as she landed gracefully, her wings flittering softly through the air. “Shut that thing up, he’s hurting my ears.”

“I don’t want to die!” I wailed, clinging to Soarin with all the muscles in my arms. He almost had to peel me off of him, I was so freaked out by the time we finally landed.

“Yeesh. Anxious much?” Soarin grinned, obviously taking pleasure in my panic.

And that’s when I finally opened my eyes again, I swear, I saw the face of god.

Well, actually, it was just some dirt.

But I was glad to see it.

“Ground!” I gasped, dropping to the earth and kissing it like my Great Aunt Gertie did everybody at Thanksgiving. “Sweet, sweet ground, how I frickin’ missed you!”

Spitfire picked up one of her hooves away from me, her lips turning in disgust.

“Gross.” She shook her head slowly, staring. “Pull yourself together, Toothpick. Soarin, flank on the right.”

I was a little confused by that one, but the other pegasus took position on my right side.

“Hang on, what?” I blinked, still kneeling on the ground and trying to cover what I could of myself with my arms.

“In case you decide to try running away,” Spitfire explained blandly.

“… To where?” I asked pointedly. “What, you really think that I’m just going to go running off without getting any pants first?”

Soarin and Spitfire stared at me for a long beat, before she finally replied “Have you considered that it’s not for your safety?”

Ouch.

I guess I hadn’t really thought of it that way. To these guys, I was probably kind of scary. On top of the fact that I just showed up in Spitfire’s home, claiming to be psychic to save my own butt, it wasn’t really any wonder they didn’t trust me. It really got me thinking about the consequences of just walking right into pony civilization, just how badly I’d be freaking everybody out.

That lasted all of about four seconds, because the breeze was starting to pick up again and I was walking around with my tackle out, for god’s sake. Thankfully, we found the towel not too far away; and let me tell you, I was all over that thing like Yogi Bear on a pic-a-nic basket.

“Yes!” I crowed, wrapping the bedraggled towel around my waist again, keeping it tight enough that it wouldn’t fall if I walked.

“… Why do you keep doing that?” Soarin asked in confusion as we neared what I was pretty sure was Ponyville.

“Doing what?” I asked, a little more confident (and faster) now that I wasn’t stark naked.

“That, with the towel,” Soarin nodded toward me. “You act like you can’t go anywhere without it.”

“Actually, I noticed that as well,” Spitfire spoke up, guiding us toward a dirt path. “What is it with that thing? It’s just a towel.”

I thought for a second, and said “I don’t know about you guys, but humans don’t really, uh… go around naked, exactly. I mean, except on nudists beaches and colonies, that kind of thing.”

It was kind of obvious that they had no idea what I was talking about, but Spitfire frowned and asked “You… things live in colonies?”

“Not really. Well, kind of,” I shrugged.

“That was not helpful in the slightest,” her frown deepened.

I only shrugged again, realigning the towel. “I mean, we live in towns and cities and stuff.”

“I’ve never seen a human city in my life,” Soarin said skeptically as we passed a couple of donkeys down the road. They actually stopped and did a double take before hurrying away from us.

“I’m pretty sure that’s because they’re all in another world,” I said casually, rolling my wrist through the air.

“Huh. An alien, then?” Spitfire cocked an eyebrow. “Then how come you speak fluent Eqquish?”

“I don’t,” I replied automatically. “I’m speaking English.”

“… No, no you’re not,” she said a little more firmly, looking at me as if I were being deliberately stupid. “It’s Eqquish, plain as day.”

I thought about arguing with her over it, but bit my tongue. Maybe our languages were just really close? I had never really put a lot of thought into it before. Then again, I hadn’t really had a reason to.

So instead, I just shrugged for the bajillionth time.

“Okay, Eqquish,” I reluctantly agreed, the little town drawing closer and closer with every step. “Don’t ask for an explanation for that either, because I don’t have one.”

Spitfire pretty much ignored me after that. Not as in losing interest, but deliberately giving me the cold shoulder. I think I might have ticked her off, or something. No idea how, though.

It felt like we had been walking for hours, and for the record; have you ever walked on dirt that’s been baking in the sun all day with bare feet? Might feel kind of warm, and comfortable for a few minutes?

Yeah, after a couple of hours of that, I was checking behind me every few minutes for red streaks on the ground because I think my feet were bleeding oh god.

They weren’t bleeding, coincidentally. But it sure as hell felt like they were.

“This is agony,” I moaned, dragging myself forward at a lazy pace. “My legs are going to fall off…!”

“Oh, stop whining,” Spitfire rolled her eyes again. “That’s all you’ve done for the past hour!”

“Fifty-three minutes,” Soarin interjected.

“Whatever!” she snapped at him, obviously tense. “We’re nearly there, don’t get your towel in a twist.”

“You’re right,” I felt a little bad for leaving them on the receiving end of my groaning and moaning, and being the pleasant, fun guy I am, tried to lighten the mood a little. I snapped my fingers, and then threw out my arms in front of me. “Meh, I’m tired. Carry me.”

I slowly found my arms retracting to my sides against my will, because the look that Spitfire gave me just then probably could have curdled milk.

I think that she tried to tell me something, but I couldn’t really make out what it was. In my defense, in all likelihood, it was because the moment we approached Ponyville, somebody clubbed me over the head.

Hard.

0-0-0-0-0

It's Just A Theory

0-0-0-0-0

I’m almost positive that somebody was saying my name, but I was kind of having difficulty hearing it, what with my head being bashed in and all.

The whole world seemed to go loopy for a second, turning sideways really fast. As it turned out, the world wasn’t moving at all, I’d just fallen over and whacked my head again.

Aren’t I so fantastically lucky.

I kind of laid there stunned for a minute, the realization of what had just happened mingling with the god awful pain in the back (and now side) of my head. It was like my hearing had gone all watery, even though I could see Soarin holding someone back and Spitfire saying something I’m pretty sure wasn’t polite. I didn’t catch much of it, though.

“…is th… prehens… incomp…”

“Whuzzat?” I blubbered, my tongue feeling oddly like a heavy chunk of rubber.

“Of all… that nop… demerit… sugar addicted son of a whore!”

I definitely caught that last part, and I was kind of surprised to see Spitfire that angry. She was practically steaming with outrage, and it wasn’t until I sat up fully that I managed to get a good look at my assailant.

Mint colored-

Lyra, definitely Lyra. That was all I needed to know from the flash of color alone, and I had practically forgotten the blinding pain already. Well, sort of. It seriously hurt. Like, a lot.

“Lyra!” I beamed toothily at the stunned unicorn, because it’s clearly a good idea to greet the person who just clubbed you over the head with… was that a rolling pin? Yeah, greet the person who just clubbed you over the head with a rolling pin by name.

Of course, the moment I opened my big fat mouth again, my favorite pony ever suddenly became much less favorable in my opinion. Her eyes widened significantly in fear, and another flash of light from her horn indicated that something was about to go down.

Unfortunately, that thing that went down was me, because she smashed me over the head again.

“For buck’s sake!” Spitfire grabbed the rolling pin from midair, leaning over my nearly unconscious body. And I was in quite a bit of pain by that point, so I was really wishing I could have just gone full sleepy – time mode to save myself the trouble. “I told you the first time, it isn’t dangerous!”

“Stop, you don’t know what you’re doing!” Lyra shrieked in panic, continuously pushed back by Soarin, who was ensuring she didn’t try any magic again. At least, that’s what I think was happening. I was pretty delirious by that point. Repeated blunt force trauma to the head can do that sometimes. “That-that thing is going to be the death of us all!”

“Toothpick – I mean, Phil is no threat at all!” Spitfire glowered at her, and I blearily cracked open one eye to look up at her belly. Kind of fuzzy up close. Looked nice and warm, almost like a cat’s fur, but shorter. I don’t remember properly if I tried to pet it or not, but I’m just gonna say that I didn’t just in case. “It’s not a threat, it can barely walk on its own! Right, Phil? Uh… Phil?”

“I’m a little tea~pot, short and stout~”

“Phil says yes,” Soarin deadpanned.

“That monster will kill everypony it comes into contact with!” Lyra insisted. “I’m telling you, get that thing out of Ponyville and away from-”

"Anthro~polo~gy~"

“That’s enough!” Spitfire jabbed a hoof at her, defensively straddling me when Lyra twitched. “Nopony is listening to your inane ranting, especially after you just assaulted somepony!”

“… Fine. Fine,” Lyra spat, backing away slowly without dropping her gaze. She nearly bumped into a couple of other staring ponies, steadily creeping backwards. “But don’t you come crying to me when that abomination goes on a murder spree. I’m taking the first train out of this place before it becomes a smoking crater!”

I was kind of sad to see Lyra go.

But then I remembered the horrible agony that I was in, and suddenly I didn’t feel quite so sad anymore.

“Yeesh,” Soarin shrugged eventually, shooing off a few passersby. “What’s up with all the crazy in the air today?”

I barely heard Soarin, and if I could have thought straight I might have wondered if I’d been clipped in the ear or something. All I was focused on was the mare hell bent on protecting my scrawny butt, and she was seeming a lot more awesome having prevented my head from getting cracked like an egg. Gorgeous, really, like a kind of shining, fuzzy guardian angel. Spitfire said something to me, but I didn’t really hear it. I was a little more concerned with the fact that she was still standing directly over me, and all I was wearing was the flimsy little towel.

“… Sorry, what?” I cleaned out my ear with my pinkie eventually, shifting uneasily.

“I said, I didn’t know you had such an… attraction to danger.”

“What? I don’t oh my sweet Jesus dear god no!”

I clamped my hands down over the towel, heat flooding into my face as she stared at me.

"It's... not... because of you this time...?" I chuckled weakly.

“So. Tell me, psychic,” Spitfire grinned down at me. “How come you didn’t see that coming?”

A string of words came out of my mouth, and every single one of them was jumbled and mashed together into some pitiful defense about accidental boners.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt your little chat,” Soarin coughed awkwardly into his hoof. “But I think we should probably get the thing to a vet. Like, now? Today, maybe?”

Spitfire patted me on the head, finally stepping away from me so that I could get myself properly covered.

“Pft, now you want to pick up the pace. Come on, Phil; maybe afterwards we’ll go get some ice cream or something. Humans eat ice cream, right?”

Sometimes, life is good.

“I advise against it,” Soarin sniggered as Spitfire helped me to my feet.

“Why?”

“Because he’d probably try to jam his junk in it.”

Spitfire, to the rescue!

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

And sometimes, I really, really hate my life.

0-0-0-0-0

Great Expectations

0-0-0-0-0

“I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Just keep it away from me,” Soarin skipped a little away from me, and I continued to moan and clutch my aching head. It took a little while for it to settle in, but it finally hit – actually, I don’t want to say that it hit me, my head hurt badly enough. Either way, Lyra whacked me with a rolling pin. And not only was it a major pain in the neck (or head, whatever) it also raised quite a few questions.

For example, why exactly was Lyra so freaked out by me? I can’t have been that scary.

“Hey – hey, Spitfire,” I mumbled, rubbing my temples. “Am I scary?”

“Keep on the sidewalk, please,” she nudged me away from the road, where a stallion pulling a cart of beets gave me a long stare, before picking up his pace. “And pick up your feet. Still feeling light headed?”

“Uh… kind of,” I shrugged, trying to stand up a little taller. I mean, I didn’t want to look like a wuss or anything. Instead, I just tightened my towel around my waist and tried to pick up my feet, even though it felt like there were some seriously big knots on the back of my head. I’d be lucky if I didn’t have at least a concussion.

Did I mention that Lyra is totally not my favorite anymore?

“Hang on, where are we going again?” I blinked, drawn out of my haze as we started around a corner. Some of the buildings were strangely familiar, though I couldn’t tell quite why.

“I already told you, we’re taking you to a veterinarian,” Spitfire explained with an exasperated sigh. “I doubt that I’d find anything other than a theoretical xenobiologist, even with insane luck. The best I can do for now is find a vet, and try to find out just what you are.”

“I said human, didn’t I?” I threw up my arms. “What, did you not believe me?”

“I don’t believe half the things that come out of your mouth,” she deadpanned.

“Soarin!” I cast my gaze to him pleadingly. “Come on, help a psychic out.”

“Yeah, nope.” He shook his head fiercely, avoiding her glare. “I’m just goin’ with Spit on this one.”

My shoulders sagged in defeat, and I finally caved in. I guessed that the only thing I had thing I had to look forward to was being stuck with needles.

I shivered, even though it was plenty warm outside.

Needles and me don’t get along so well, because, duh.

I had completely resigned myself to my fate (actually, I was planning on ditching anyway the moment they took their eyes off of me, because I FREAKING HATE NEEDLES,) before I actually found a good reason to take off. Sort of.

I recognized where I was.

“Library!” I blurted out when I saw the Golden Oaks sign hanging out from the massive habitable tree.

“You can read?” Spitfire cocked an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“Yeah! I – why do you sound so surprised?” I frowned suddenly, crossing my arms over my bare chest.

“Oh, no reason.”

“She’s implying that you’re stupid,” Soarin offered helpfully. “Will you move your hooves already?”

“Oh god, I don’t want to get stuck with needles!” I panicked. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s needles!”

“What about heights?” she smirked. “And we’re just going to a v-”

“Forget that!” I grinned wildly, and tucked that away in my head for later. Yeah, like I was going to just forget that just because I found a pony in particular somewhat attractive. Hmph. See if she calls me a coward just because I’m… cowardly. Shut up. “I can prove that I’m psychic!”

“You mean again?” Soarin looked at me in confusion.

“No, it would be a first,” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “I seriously doubt that he’s telling the truth. Come on, let’s just get him-”

“No, wait, hang on!” I held up a hand in desperation. “Just hear me out. Let me check out the library first, and then I swear I’ll go along with whatever needle thingies are going to get poked into me.”

Soarin started to speak, but Spitfire cut him off.

“Okay,” she said with a hint of interest. “You can prove, without a shadow of a doubt, that you really possess psychic powers?”

“Totally!” I nodded, marching right up to the library door and banging on it. “I’ve got oodles of psychic power things.”

“Then why are you knocking?”

“To see if anyone’s home. Duh.”

The words were out of my mouth before I even registered what I was saying.

Which led to a facepalm following it.

I probably shouldn’t have done that, because my head still hurt.

It didn’t take long for a very familiar purple unicorn to cautiously pry open the door.

“H-hello?” none other than Twilight Sparkle stuck her head out the slightly open door. “The li- what in Celestia’s name…?”

I swear, her eyebrows almost came off her face.

“Hi there!” I waved, beaming at her friendlily. At least, I hoped that I looked friendly, what with my goofy too-big grin and over the top waving. Also, the fact that I wasn’t wearing any pants forced itself into my head, making the situation a lot more awkward than it needed to be.

I really should get emergency pants.

“This is Phil,” Spitfire nodded to her without pausing. “Sorry for bothering you, miss.”

“I’m Phil!” I stuck out a hand with the same stupid grin plastered on my face, even though Spitfire had clearly just introduced me. “And you’re Twilight Sparkle!”

“Uh…” she stared at me, which is probably the same reaction I would have had in her situation. All that confusion.

Perfect.

“Careful,” Soarin shifted uneasily. “We’re still not sure if he bites or not.”

I barked out a laugh, which probably didn’t sound anything close to natural or convincing, but I kept up the façade anyway. I needed this to work.

“Ahh, don’t mind my friend here,” I laughed loudly. “He is only jealous of my incredible psychic powers!”

“What?” Soarin sputtered. “I am not! How would you –”

“Psychic,” I tapped the side of my head.

Very subtle.

“What exactly is going on?” Twilight budged a little backward. “I-I have to admit, I really have no idea.”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” I bowed a bit, careful to keep my towel on tight this time. “Why, I just so happen to be attempting to settle a matter between chums!”

“Stop talking like that,” Spitfire groaned. “Look, I’m sorry. He’s not psychic, he’s just something that got inside my house somehow.”

The whole time, Twilight kept right on staring like she was going on a drug trip; which, again, was pretty much what I expected.

“Well then!” I huffed, trying to sound like a displeased English gentleman and instead sounding like a walrus with hiccups. “Miss Twilight Sparkle, would you be so kind as to assist me in proving my psychic powers so that I don’t get prodded with pointy needles?”

“I – what?” she shook her head hard, as if she hadn’t been paying attention. “O-oh! Of course, of course! Come right on in, absolutely!”

I threw a smug look at Spitfire as she greeted us in, which met a bland glare.

Thinking back, I probably should have noticed that Twilight was way too eager to just let us into her home/library/tree/thing.

“Stay right there!” I swear to god, Twilight squeed. She bumped past the little dragon, who stared at me just as much as the unicorn did. “Ooh, I’ll get my thermo-”

“Er, actually,” I stopped her as she started to run into the basement. “This will just take a minute, I just need to prove this.”

“Somepony losing a bet?” Spike asked interestedly, staring me up and down. I think he was more surprised by my talking than my just existing, but he seemed to be taking it a lot better than anyone else at this point. At least he wasn’t trying to club me over the head. “Where’d you find that thing, Twi? Zebrica?”

“No!” I threw out my arm to the side, holding an invisible cape. “Behold! I am the mystical, the amazing, the psychic, the Great Phil-Nifico!”

“Oh, Celestia.” I heard Spitfire moan miserably quietly behind me, and I didn’t even have to turn around to know that her hoof had already hit her face.

“Sounds like Trixie,” Spike snorted. “Hey, can you do tricks at least?”

Even though I knew I wasn’t actually psychic, I found myself kind of offended that he wasn’t even taking me seriously.

Then again, I knew exactly what I looked like, and I wouldn’t have taken me seriously, either.

“Foolish mortal!” I wiggled my invisible cape, and cast out my fingers to wriggle them in what I hoped was a supremely magical manner. “You have no idea of the mental master you oppose! I am the Great Phil-Nifico!”

“Heard you the first time,” Spike snorted.

Straining not to lose face and wind up with a bunch of needles in my arm, I turned instead to the gawking unicorn.

“Twilight Sparkle!” I clasped my temples, and hummed loudly. “Yes, I – I see it now! I can see… see into your mi~ind!”

I think I went a little overboard, because Twilight started frowning really hard at me. She definitely wasn’t an idiot, which I really, really should have taken into account. It also didn’t help that I was losing her already, probably because she was silently comparing me to another certain unicorn.

“Ah-ha!” I said a little more loudly, noting that Soarin and Spitfire were getting a little more restless with the awkward silence that I was making. “Yes, indeed, Twilight Sparkle! I know your deepest secrets, now!”

“Knowing my name does not necessarily imply extrasensory perceptions,” Twilight stated bluntly. “Half of the ponies in this new town know my name already.”

And that little cue helped me to determine what time period I was in in relation to the show, which I also tucked away for later.

“Ahh, but that is incompetent!” I murmured hauntingly, leaning in and wiggling my hands over her head.

“Don't you mean ‘irrelevant’?”

“That, too!”

“I’m experiencing severe skepticism as to the credibility of your psychic powers,” Twilight deadpanned. “Mostly because I’m pretty sure you’re making the whole thing up. I hope you know that I’m not paying for the show.”

I shrugged before returning to my shtick. I was careful to lean in close to her ear so that only she could hear. On that note, Twilight Sparkle smells really nice. Kind of like acorns and honey. Must be the shampoo or something.

“I also know about Smarty Pants.”

Twilight froze at that, and I grinned before firing off some more trigger words.

“I know what you’re seeking. I know what you’re afraid of, Twilight Sparkle. I know your every secret, I see into your mind and nothing his hidden from my all seeing eyes. I know all about your brother, Shining Armor. And the love of his life. Sunshine, sunshine, lady bugs awake…!”

“That’s enough!” Twilight shrieked in panic, shoving me away. I pulled back, a little shocked. She gave me a look just as angry as the one I had seen on Spitfire before, but… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I felt a little guilty for scaring her, and it was so quiet in the library that you could have heard a pin drop.

“… I think you should leave,” Twilight finally said, shaken.

“I agree with that,” Spitfire grabbed the back of the towel with her teeth. I yelped, scooting backward quickly so as not to lose my towel. Within another couple of moments we were back outside, the sun shining brightly and a cool wind starting to pick up.

I dusted myself off with a pleased smile, trying to forget about the horrified look on Twilight’s face.

Jeez, did I feel like a royal jerk.

“Just what did you say to that mare?” Soarin pried, fascinated. “How come she freaked out like that?”

“Oh,” I lied, a little more confident now that Spitfire seemed convinced that I really was psychic and I had avoided any potential needles. “I just told her about a future relationship that she was going to be in with a muscular farm stallion.”

“Wha- that’s all you said to her?” Spitfire’s eyebrows lowered doubtfully. “Why would the librarian get that upset over that?”

I shrugged again.

“Meh. You know what they say. Once you go Mac, you never go back.”

0-0-0-0-0

A Real Blowhard

0-0-0-0-0

“Whaaaaat?” I gawked at Spitfire, surprise plain on my face.

“You heard me,” she deadpanned, waving me toward the familiar little cottage. “Do your psychic thing again. Soarin, make sure to take notes.”

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” the pegasus asked her, holding the notepad under one arm as Spitfire knocked. “I mean, that last mare got pretty messed up about it.”

“Just being certain,” Spitfire frowned. “Toothpick, stand up straight.”

I cringed, and not just because my still pounding head was killing me. Of all the places I expected them to drag me, I didn’t think that it would be Fluttershy’s cottage. Heck, I didn’t even know how either of them knew Fluttershy, or that she was a veterinarian. Although with as much as she’s shown with animals, I guess I really should have figured that out.

It wasn’t long before Fluttershy cracked open her front door just a tiny bit, peering out at us.

“Uh, hi. Fluttershy, you doing all right?” Spitfire asked the sliver of mare revealed through the crack, and Fluttershy’s eye widened considerably when she saw me. No surprises there. “Hey, I understand if you’re busy and all –”

“Oh, my goodness!” the butter colored pegasus slowly drew open her door, mouth hanging open in shock and a bit of a pleased look. “Spitfire, I haven’t seen you in ages! How is everypony? And… what kind of animal is that, exactly?”

Okay, so, Fluttershy was eager, apparently in a good mood, and already had some kind of history with the sexy one. I could totally live with the fact that she called me an animal, because, let me tell you, it was way more preferable to being clobbered over the head with a rolling pin.

“Good to see ya, Flutters,” Spitfire clapped her on the back cheerfully, and Fluttershy blushed lightly. Soarin looked back and forth between them, and unexpectedly, he seemed just about as surprised as I was about it. Then again, I was making a conscious effort not to actually look surprised. Psychic and all that. “Everypony’s great, thanks for asking.”

“Is… I mean, did something happen to your-your pet?” Fluttershy inspected me curiously, drawing right up close to me.

“I got a concussion!”

Fluttershy yelped in shock, lurching backwards. I resisted the urge to cringe, a pang of guilt hitting me. I mean, come on, it’s Fluttershy. I didn’t even have any special kind of liking for her in the first place, and I still felt like a royal jerk for scaring her. It must be the face. Really cute face, kind of like – nope, not getting into that, nope nope nope.

“Easy, it’s fine,” Spitfire helped the stunned yellow pegasus up, and Soarin motioned me inside after them. “Yeah, Toothpick isn’t my pet.”

“Oh my, oh my, oh my!” she was practically hyperventilating by this point, and I crossed my arms over my chest and shifted uncomfortably. Soarin was glaring at me like I’d punched her or something.

“SO,” the captain of the Wonderbolts coughed inconspicuously into her hoof as Fluttershy shook herself and tried to calm down while I took in the sights. She had a really homely place, and it really felt cozy. The cottage was warm, but not too much so – it almost reminded me of Bag End from The Hobbit, and I grinned at the thought of Fluttershy struggling to stick a little ring on her hoof. “Er, Fluttershy. I kind of figured you might know something about this thing… and judging from your shock, I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’.”

“I’ve never seen an animal like it before,” Fluttershy shook her head furiously. “How did you teach it to talk?”

“Actually, about that,” I tightened my towel around my waist, desperately wishing that I had some pants to put on. I mean, seriously. I’m all for swingin’ free, but this was getting ridiculous. “My mom taught me to talk, not Spitfire. I’m also not Toothpick, it’s Phil, I’m from another world entirely, and also I’m psychic.”

“… Did he hit his head?” Fluttershy turned suddenly in concern to Spitfire, which for some reason made Soarin laugh. Like, way too much. So much that I had to resist the growing itch to punch him in the jaw.

“Still not funny, Soarin,” I grumbled.

“You’re right,” he snickered. “It’s hilarious.”

“Your mom is hilarious.”

“Do you think you can give Toothpick a physical for me?” Spitfire asked the staring pegasus. “I’d do it myself, but I figured that a professional opinion would be better.”

“Professional?” Fluttershy blinked bashfully. “O-oh, my. Um, well, I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint anypony. I – is he writing down everything I say?”

Spitfire facepalmed (facehoofed?) and shot Soarin a dirty look.

“Soarin!” she hissed. “What are you doing?”

“Taking notes,” he replied innocently. Or at least, he tried to, but his mouth was full of pencil.

“… Soarin, these aren’t notes. This is just a picture of a rabbit.”

“I know!” Soarin beamed proudly. “Pretty good, huh?”

Spitfire only stared at him for a moment, and then she let out that same long, slow, tortured, exasperated breath she kept using around me.

“Yes thank you Soarin it is a very nice bunny rabbit,” Spitfire said all in one breath without even looking at it. “I’m beginning to wonder why I didn’t just have Phil take notes.”

“Wait, I’m confused…” Fluttershy began, looking back and forth between us curiously. “Is it ‘Phil’ or ‘Toothpick’?”

“I AM THE GREAT PHIL-NIFI-”

“Yeah, that’s great,” Spitfire deadpanned. “Good luck, Fluttershy. Soarin, you. Me. Talk. Outside. Now.”

I saw Fluttershy mouthing ‘good luck?’ like it was something to be terrified of, and she gave a heavy sigh as Spitfire and Soarin left me alone with the twitchy pegasus.

“… All right, then,” Fluttershy ruffled her wings uneasily, looking around me again. “Um, ‘Phil’. If it’s okay that I call you that,” to which I nodded. “If you’ll come this way, please.”

She led me further into the cottage, through a doorless entryway into her expansive and brightly lit living room, sunlight peeking in through the window.

“Oh, um, just have a seat over there,” she nodded toward the couch. “Sorry I don’t really have much in the way of real veterinarians…”

“Hey, it’s fine by me,” I really was relieved. “I’m just glad you’re not sticking me full of needles. I hate needles.”

Fluttershy smiled at that, slowly shaking her head.

“Oh, I don’t think I would have it in me to poke anypony with needles,” she said conversationally. “It’s just that sometimes I wish Ponyville had an actual veterinarian. It gets to be a little much when everypony in town needs your help with their pets, you know?”

“Nah, I think you’re a great vet,” I grinned at her.

“Oh, um, thank you. Neck please.”

I stared at her, and she just kept holding out her hoof at me.

“Uhh… what?”

Brilliant. Behold my amazing grasp of the English language.

“I need to check your pulse,” Fluttershy motioned with the back of her hoof. “I don’t really know what your pulse should be, but I don’t think it would hurt to check.”

Well, Fluttershy definitely wasn’t a professional, I could agree with that.

She rubbed her hoof over my Adam’s Apple, focusing intently as she tried to count.

“Er,” I cleared my throat. “You might have an easier time with the jugular vein.”

“S-sorry,” she flinched. “Um, would you mind showing me where you have it? Here, right?”

I carefully took hold of her hoof, nudging it over my neck to the right spot. She had astoundingly soft fur, even though the base was a little coarse. It kind of tickled, but I didn’t mention that.

“Hmm…” Fluttershy withdrew eventually, and for some reason her face was a little red. I hate to admit it, but she looked… I want to say adorable, but that’s not the right word. With her leaning over me, her warm touch blocking all the rational thoughts in my head, all I could think was that she was a lot cuter than I would have expected. “That’s so weird.”

“What?” I asked, the paranoia kicking in. “What is it, what?”

“Oh, it’s just your blood pressure,” she shook her head. “It’s either really, really high or really, really low. Um, I can’t really tell.”

I wanted to facepalm at that, but only settled for a grunt/sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy recoiled again, making me feel even worse for making her feel bad. “It-it’s just, I don’t really know what you are, really – I don’t have anything for a frame of reference…”

“It’s cool,” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you have anything for this?” I lightly tapped a single finger against my head.

She just stared at me for around ten, fifteen seconds before it finally kicked in.

“Oh!” her eyes widened. “Oh Celestia, I’m so sorry! You said you had a concussion, didn’t you, Toothpick…? I mean, of course you did, I wasn’t even paying attention, I’m so so so sorry!”

She took off through the house, scrambling through drawers for something, and I’m pretty sure I saw tears in her eyes.

Congratulations, Phil. You made Fluttershy cry. You are now officially a monster.

“I-I-I can’t find anything…!” she panicked, grabbing her temples as her breathing started to pick up again.

“H-hey,” I cleared my throat for the umpteenth time. “Look, Fluttershy, it’s fine! I’m cool, see?”

I tapped my noggin a couple of times for emphasis, which oh my god I will never ever do that again as long as I live.

My face started twitching really hard, but I think I managed to force it to look like a really weird smile. Either that, or I looked epileptic.

“Um… Toothpick, are you sure you’re okay…?” Fluttershy asked nervously, approaching me once again with caution. Man, I just could not get over how cute she looked up close. I just wanted to pick her up and… actually, hugging her was one of the last things on my mind, and I was one hundred percent grateful that she couldn’t read my thoughts. Maybe it’s because I finally had a chance to let everything cool down for a few minutes, but something about her started getting me hot. Let me just say that when a quiet mare is softly touching you and the only thing you’re wearing is a towel, it’s a lot harder to force yourself to think about anything else.

“Oh, yeah, totally,” I fought with my raging face muscles. “It’s just that I’m having a seizure that’s all contained in my face, the psychic thing does that to me sometimes.”

Much to my pleasure, Fluttershy actually laughed a little at that. It was a quiet, tense little titter, but a laugh nonetheless. The look of relief on her face helped matters quite a bit, too. I was glad that she was finally managing to relax around me, if only because it beat the alternative. Fluttershy started off toward the other room when I was still pulling myself out of my thoughts.

And, being the genius that I am, I decided that now was a good time to press my luck. I leaned around looking for Fluttershy, but she didn’t seem to be too close.

“Say…” I spoke up, hopeful. “You know, I’ve heard that, uh, blowjobs are a great way to get rid of headaches…”

“I don’t care if it gets rid of your headache or not,” Soarin snorted, and my face burned when he and Spitfire marched back inside with a blushing Fluttershy in tow. “I am not letting you blow me.”

0-0-0-0-0

You'd Get A Headache Too

0-0-0-0-0

So, trying to figure out anything from Fluttershy turned out to be a bust.

Shocker.

“My psychic powers are… telling me something…” I rubbed my forehead with two fingers as we walked, earning another long sigh from Spitfire.

“Don’t ask,” she didn’t even bother turning to Soarin. “Don’t even ask, he wants you to ask.”

“Wait…” Soarin frowned, the midday sun glaring down on us. “So, if I don’t ask, then I won’t know what he’s talking about…”

“That’s the point,” Spitfire seethed quietly. “Just keep walking.”

“The ether is telling me something,” I tried to say mystically, nudging my other hand toward my stomach so that they would get the hint.

“Thank you, Toothpick, we know you’re hungry.”

“Hungry?” Soarin blinked. “Oh, dude. Why didn’t you just say so? Hey, Spit!”

Spitfire sighed.

“We should grab lunch,” the pegasus grinned, delighting in Spitfire’s agitation.

“Ah, yes…!” I threw my hands out in front of myself, scrunching up my nose. “I predicted that he would say that!”

“Oh, for Celestia’s sake Phil,” Spitfire groaned. “That’s – Soarin, explain before I get brain damage.”

“I can’t help you there,” Soarin shrugged. “Heck, I didn’t even know you had brain damage. I always thought you were pretty normal.”

“… I’m completely surrounded by idiots,” Spitfire whined into one hoof.

It didn’t take us too much longer to make the trek back to Ponyville. I was just kind of sad that we didn’t stick around Fluttershy’s place for some free food, but in hindsight she probably just had a bunch of carrots or something. And the longer I thought about it as we walked, with me desperately clinging to my towel the whole way, the more a dreadful thought occurred to me.

What if I couldn’t eat anything?

I mean, everything looked real enough, but what if the food tasted like paint or something? Or worse, what if everything was just a hay substitute? I was pretty sure these ponies wouldn’t share my taste palette of McDonalds and barbeque sauce.

“Something is wrong…!” I declared in my ‘psychic’ voice once we reached the few small buildings littering the outskirts of Ponyville again.

“I noticed that when you showed up, Phil.” Spitfire deadpanned, her shoulders slumped. I think she was getting tired of listening to the two of us yammering about lunch the whole way.

“Hmm, no, about our lunch…” putting on my best ‘spooky’ voice and wriggling my fingers in midair. Soarin looked slightly creeped out, but I think Spitfire was only annoyed.

“I’m not asking what it is. If you have something to say then just spit it out.”

My arms collapsed to my sides, and I nearly lost my towel.

“Killjoy,” I harrumphed. “I’m not so sure I’ll be able to eat anything.”

“There, see?” Spitfire smiled at last, which looked kind of odd on her normally serious face. “Was that really so hard?”

“I thought you were hungry?” Soarin shuffled his wings as we approached a small outside diner. Several patrons immediately left upon seeing me, as well as one or two of the staff. I was fine with that, mostly. The ‘awe’ of being in a whole new world had pretty much worn off by that point. I was tired, hungry, and ready to go home.

Preferably with pants on.

“What do you eat, anyway…?” Soarin asked in curiosity as we settled down at one of the wooden tables littering the pavilion. “I don’t think you’ve said anything about it since you got here.”

“Well, this is definitely strange,” I laughed awkwardly as the area was slowly but steadily vacated by nervous ponies throwing glances my way. “Sitting in the middle of an alien café, just chatting away like it’s normal, feels really surreal, you know?”

My voice was getting uncomfortably difficult to control the longer Spitfire stared at me from across the table as she sat.

“You didn’t answer the question,” she narrowed her eyes. “And we’re not in the center, it’s literally by the sidewalk.”

“Figure of speech,” I said flippantly as I picked up a small picture laden menu that was written in a language I’ve never seen before.

“… Oh my Celestia, he eats PONIES!” Soarin shrieked in horror, falling out of his chair and scrambling away backwards in terror.

Neither Spitfire nor I moved.

“No he doesn’t,” she deadpanned at the same time that I denied eating horse meat, although Burger King might have insisted otherwise.

Soarin collected himself after a moment, laughing awkwardly and very thankful that nobody seemed to have noticed that he nearly wet himself.

“Right, right, of course…” he chortled uneasily, sitting much closer to Spitfire this time. “Ha, because that-that would be silly.”

“How could you tell?” I peered over the menu that I was pretending to read at the flame-maned pegasus.

“I’ve seen carnivores,” she shrugged absentmindedly, rifling through a menu herself as one of the confused waiters finally peered out from the café’s kitchen to look at our strange trio. “You don’t really match the description. Toothpick.”

I’ll admit, that one kind of stung a little.

“Humans are mainly omnivores,” I explained a little sheepishly as Spitfire distractedly brushed a lock of mane from her face. “Meat and vegetables. I go both ways.”

“Called it,” Soarin raised a hoof with a smirk.

Spitfire giggled. I have no idea why, but that really set me off for some reason. I mean, it wasn’t like I was jealous of the pegasus for having made her laugh, of course not.

Because that would be silly.

I frowned, crossing my arms across my bare chest.

“Ha ha, har de har har,” I scowled.

“I’m just surprised that you think that the opposite of ‘meat’ is vegetables,” Spitfire rolled her eyes. “Just try not to go on any blood-filled rampages, ‘kay Toothpick?”

“No promises,” I deadpanned.

“Hey!” she raised her hoof at the befuddled waiter lingering by the kitchen door, wondering if he should have made a run for it. “Hey, buddy. We’re ready to order.”

“Oh, uh…” Soarin frowned suddenly, patting himself down. “I, uh… heh, must have left my bits at home…”

He turned to me, and I grinned.

“Yeah, sure. I can cover it for you, I’m loaded.”

He blinked in confusion and started to open his mouth before Spitfire cut him off.

“He thinks he’s being funny by being sarcastic, Soarin,” she clarified in exasperation.

“I am funny!” I said a little too defensively. Her bemused expression said volumes.

“Er…” the waiter cautiously approached, a tan stallion wearing the top half of a tuxedo. What was it with this place and the total lack of pants? “C- I mean, how may I assist, sir? Madam? Uh…” he turned to me.

“Psychic,” I nodded sagely.

Spitfire sighed.

“A couple of hayburgers and some dandelion fries, please,” Spitfire requested flatly.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Soarin perked up.

“Do you have anything with cow in it…?” I leaned forward and balanced on my elbows, putting on a deliberately unsettling smile in hopes of making the poor guy’s day a little more interesting.

“C-c-cow?” the waiter’s voice went up a noticeable couple of octaves.

“Ignore him,” Spitfire deadpanned again. “He’ll have-”

“Anything without hay, grass, or flowers of any kind,” I dropped the menu in mild revulsion. “Have any carrots or something?”

“Hey!” Soarin smacked his hoof against the table delightedly as the waiter scarpered off. “That’s a good one, too!”

“What?” I blinked.

“Instead of Toothpick, you know?” he threw a look back to Spitfire, who did not seem to share in his enthusiasm. “We could call you-”

“Don’t say it!” I yelped, but far too late.

“Carrot Top!”

Something inside of me died, almost audibly.

My head hit the table with a groan and a clatter. I then let out a bloodcurdling shriek of agony, because maybe I really am an idiot that forgot about the concussion.

“I think I liked Toothpick better,” I heard Spitfire say, and I could have kissed her then and there.

“Yes, that sounds better!” I yanked my sore head up with a crick of my neck to look at her and smile. “Or, hey, here’s a crazy idea; why not just call me by my freaking name?”

“Let’s just finish lunch and get going, alright?” Spitfire grumbled as platters were served by the uneasy waiter, who trotted off when one or two brave customers began venturing back. “We’ve still got to find something to do with Phil if we can’t get him back to where he came from.”

I held up the shaved carrot placed before me and wriggled it in her direction with a sly cock of my eyebrows.

“Hey, wanna see what I can do with my incredible human tongue…?” I grinned folding it over to show her between my teeth. I expected her to tell me in a flat voice that it was a nice little trick and that I should shut up and eat already, but much to my surprise, Spitfire did something that actually surprised me.

She blushed.

“Dude,” Soarin rolled his eyes. “Nopony wants to see you lick yourself, save it for bath time.”

I was literally too stunned to do anything more than gawk at him as he stuffed his face with a steaming hayburger, ketchup dripping from between the buns.

“Do-do you think I’m – that I’m some kind of cat?” I stared. “I can’t do that, what do you take me for, a contortionist?”

“No, I took you for a psychic,” Soarin said with a straight face. There came a point when I was seriously confused as to whether or not he was a blithering idiot or some kind of evil mastermind. Nobody could have said that with a straight face, not a chance in hell.

Spitfire laughed again, and I found myself growing to dislike Soarin more and more. I grumbled quietly to myself as I munched on a few of the surprisingly flavorful carrots, the crunching filling my ears. I had no idea how Spitfire even planned on getting me home, if she was even able. And because of my stupid little stunt with Twilight Sparkle, I seriously doubted that she was going to be willing to help me out. I mentally kicked myself for that a few times, thinking hard. Aside from Twilight I didn’t really know many other ways that I might get back, or even find out how I got into this mess in the first place.

Like I said, I don’t know a whole lot, but from what I do know I doubted that this would be over quickly. I reminded myself to take things one step at a time, if only to keep from going nuts when it finally sank it that I might never get home. Never see my mom and dad again, never know what my friends thought when I vanished out of thin air. Never get to see Germany or places like that. That was a sobering thought.

And the lack of pants was making me feel weird again.

Spitfire waved a dandelion fry in my direction, getting my attention.

“What’s the matter now?” she frowned.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You just got this weird look on your face all of a sudden,” Spitfire shrugged.

“Nah,” I forced a grin. “Just thinking about pants.”

I clapped my hands together suddenly, surprising them both.

“Hey!” I said probably too eagerly, but I was already working on a new plan and didn’t want to give too much away. “Rarity!”

“What?” Soarin and Spitfire blinked simultaneously in confusion.

“She’s a dressmaker, I think,” I said offhandedly, tapping the side of my head. “She can make me some pants, for sure!”

“How do you know?” Spitfire swallowed, levelling her gaze at me as I touched my forehead with m finger.

“Uh,psychic. Duh.”

“You used your psychic powers to detect a tailor…” she said sternly and slowly. “Where, exactly?”

“Carousel Boutique,” I recited from memory with a hint of pride. I couldn’t even remember the name of the tree slash library thing at the moment, but I definitely remembered Carousel Boutique.

Partially from some images that I’ve seen that probably would lead to a really confusing and awkward conversation, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I know that place,” Spitfire frowned.

“You do?” Soarin blinked, finishing off his fries noisily. “Wha’ for?”

She turned her venomous gaze toward him for a moment.

“I have dinner wear, you know,” Spitfire seethed. “If I like an evening gown now and then, I’ll buy a damned evening gown!”

“Whoa, where did that come from?” I asked, because I’m stupid and my guard was down to prevent me from catching myself in time.

“Is it really anypony else’s business if I like to feel pretty now and then?” she glared a hole in me, and I shook my head nervously.

“Oh, uh… n-no, no, of course not…” I chuckled uneasily, pulling at an invisible collar to lessen the mysterious sweat that seemed to be overcoming me the longer she scowled at me. “So, hey, uh… I’m just gonna go there, ‘kay? ‘kay.”

“There’s a tailor’s literally across the street,” Spitfire pointed out a little shop across from us with a hanging sign outside labeled Bits & Bobs. “If you’re that desperate for clothes, I’m sure they can-”

“No, no,” I held up my hand quickly, putting my other to the side of my head. “My psychic powers are telling me that I absolutely must go to this ‘Rarity’, whom I have never heard of nor met in my entire life.”

“Whoa, no way!” Soarin grinned, eyeing me closely to watch the ‘magic phenomenon’. “Is it, like, a vision?”

“Yes!” I rolled my eyes back in my head as Spitfire quietly sighed again. “Ah ha, a vision is what I see! Very clearly, I must go at once!” I finished dramatically.

“The place next to us has a better selection of whatever you need, I’m sure,” Spitfire deadpanned for the billionth time that day. I was beginning to wonder if maybe that was her default expression. “There’s no need to walk all the way across town just for that.”

“It is determined by fate!” I threw out my arms dramatically as I stood, awing half of the pegasi that accompanied me. “The very universe has-”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Spitfire threw up her hooves in exasperation. “Fine, fine! Just quit feeding me this line of minotaur manure! Soarin!”

The pegasus cringed when she jerked her head toward him, and then back to me.

“You take Toothpick, I’m going to take care of the bill and grab some supplies while I’m in town,” she said with an air of authority, to which he rose and saluted.

“You got it,” he grinned eagerly. “What’ve you gotta get, anyway?”

“Painkillers,” she moaned. “You idiots are giving me a headache.”

Soarin and I left shortly afterwards, leading me one step closer to finishing my almost dastardly plan.

And if all went well, I might even be able to make my stay here a little more… enjoyable.

Unless I screwed it up, in which case, Spitfire is probably going to kick me to death.

0-0-0-0-0

Dress For Failure

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I have a few, uh… favorites when it comes to certain ponies.

Thanks to the internet, I have developed a rather extensive list of favorite ponies for differing reasons.

Reasons probably impolite to mention publicly, but still. I have my reasons. And I have a lot of lists.

Rarity happens to be pretty high up on my lists of, er… on the list. She has it all; she’s pretty, witty, and looks friggin’ hot with a wet mane. So if I wanted to have things go my way in the future, I’d have to pull this one off without a hitch.

Which is probably why I should have ditched Soarin first.

“Alright,” I rolled my shoulders nervously, making sure to keep the towel tight around my waist as we stood on the steps of Carousel Boutique. “You be my wingman. Let’s make some magic.”

“I don’t follow,” Soarin eyed me in mild confusion. “You can do magic?”

“Sort of,” I shrugged as I knocked loudly on the door. “I’ll show you later. First, pants. Second, date.”

“Date?” he tilted his head in disbelief. “Here?”

“You know it,” I stretched out a pair of invisible suspenders smugly. “Just one of the perks of being a psychic.”

After a long pause the door was finally answered. A stunned cream white filly stood in the doorway, staring (understandably) in shock at me.

“… You’re probably going to jail for being psychic,” Soarin immediately turned to me with a deep set frown.

“That’s not her,” I blurted. “I meant Rarity.”

The filly gawking up at me seemed to snap out of her daze momentarily upon mention of her sister’s name, eyes flickering back and forth between me and Soarin.

“Are-are you looking for my sister?” she asked with a voice like a broken squeaky toy.

“I think so,” Soarin nodded. “His two-bit psychic powers told us that she was here.”

“My incredible psychic powers of clairvoyance are not two-bit!”

“Uh… huh,” Sweetie Belle continued staring at me, eyes as wide as saucers. I think she was more confused than frightened, which I guess was a good thing. “A psychic what, exactly?”

“Hey, kiddo!” I tried to sound as friendly as possible, carefully kneeling down in front of her. “I’m here to talk to your sis about grown up stuff, so how’s about you go get her for us, ‘kay?”

The filly didn’t seem to take too kindly to that, oddly enough. Which I found strange, considering that I turned my charm level up to, like, eleven.

The edges of her lips twitched hard as her brows furrowed, her hooves set into the floor.

“I am mostly grown up!” she insisted, her shrill voice indicating that such was not so. “And she’s not even here right now, so-”

“Sweetie Belle?” I heard a familiar voice from somewhere above. “If they’re here early, tell them that the dress isn’t ready!”

“You wear dresses, too?” Soarin cocked an eyebrow and gave me a mocking look, which I ignored.

“Told you,” I said with an air of confidence that bordered on overdoing it as I tapped my bandaged temple. “Psychic.”

“… A psychic is here to see you, Rarity…!” Sweetie Belle backed away a little nervously, never taking her eyes off of us.

“A what? Tell them I’m not here!”

“My psychic powers tell me that you’re here!” I shouted back up the stairs, to which I was met with silence.

“… She’s not here,” Sweetie Belle reiterated.

“Tell her that a Wonderbolt is here too,” Soarin puffed up his chest proudly.

“A-a Wonderbolt?” Sweetie Belle’s eyes widened significantly, and I got the odd feeling that the pegasus was somehow stealing my thunder. Then again, if it worked…

“Gen-you-ine Wonderbolt,” he polished one hoof on his chest smartly. “And we’re kind of in a hurry, so if it’s not too much trouble…”

“I’ll get her – just wait over there, okay?” Sweetie nodded toward a plush sofa by one wall. There were too many hues of blue and purple for my tastes, but Soarin seemed oblivious. “Hey! Hey, Rarity – there’s a celebrity here, too! He says he’s a Wonderbolt!”

That seemed to get the unicorn in a mood to move, and I heard quite a bit of rustling around on the second floor as we tried to make ourselves comfortable guests on the weirdly squishy couch.

“See?” Soarin smirked. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“Pfft,” I blew a weak raspberry. “Not everyone is a Wonderbolts fan, y’know.”

“Of course they are,” he remarked matter of factly. “We’re irresistible.”

“Wouldn’t be if you weren’t a Wonderbolt,” I snapped back, and I sounded a bit testy even to myself.

“Can’t help it if I am.” Soarin shrugged. “My mom was a Wonderbolt, and so was my dad.”

“So?” I blinked. “Just because your parents were Wonderbolts doesn’t mean that you have to be one, too. What if your mom had made a living by, like, selling drugs to kids? Or your dad was a cheap gay hooker?”

“Well,” Soarin said with a straight face as a set of hooves eagerly clopped down the stairs. “I’d probably be a two-bit psychic.”

Quite a slew of very ungentlemanly words might have put off the shop’s owner just a wee bit.

0-0-0-0-0

I Have A Sixth Sense For These Things

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“... And you were born in Ponyville, which you fear you’ll never get out of, you named the rock Discord tricked you into thinking was a Diamond ‘Tom’,” I blathered on to the astonishment and shock of Rarity. “And you found out what your special talent was because of Rainbow Dash’s ‘sonic rainboom’, your cat’s name is Opalescence, and you used to have daydreams about Prince Blueblood until you found out that he was a humongous douche nozzle, and you went on a camping trip with your sister and Applejack along with Apple Bloom, who was there with Dash and Scootaloo, and-”

“Alright!” Rarity threw up her hooves, her already white face somehow even chalkier and paler than before. “Alright, okay! I give, I believe you now!”

“See?” I crossed my arms smartly, smirking over at the stunned Soarin. “Do I know how to psychic it up in ‘dis bitch or what?”

“This is insane,” Rarity paced back and forth in front of us, clearly distressed. I felt a little bit guilty about making her so uncomfortable, but on the other hand she did look pretty cute when she was freaking out. “This isn’t even remotely –”

I started to speak again only for her to cut me off.

“No!” she waved her hoof sharply. “No, no. No need for that again. No.”

“She makes it sound like you’re a puppy that peed on the carpet,” Soarin sniggered into his hoof. I ignored that.

“So… can you help me out, or what?” I asked at last.

“Are you mad?” she gawked at me as if I were an alien. Uh, I take that last one back.

“He looks pretty calm to me,” Soarin blinked. “Toothpick here-hng!” I elbowed him in the rib ‘subtly’. “I mean, Phil here has been pretty hung up on clothes ever since he showed up. Not literally, obviously,” he chuckled. “Otherwise we wouldn’t actually… y’know. Need clothes n’ stuff. It’s… it’s a joke. Toothpick gets it.”

“Yeah, hilarious,” I deadpanned, not bothering to look his way. “So, Miss Rarity, would you kindly help me get some pants?

“… Sure,” she said slowly, eyes never leaving me. “I’ll just need to, er…”

“Take some measurements?” I hopped up eagerly, careful not to lose my towel in the process as I marched toward the stairs. “Why, what a fantastic notion! After you, madam!

I was quick to snap my fingers, pointing at Soarin.

“Hey!” I said with as much conviction as I could muster. “Spitfire just finished with her… uh, whatever she was doing. My psychic powers told me so,” I tried my best to look serious. “You should go get her, then we can meet up later.”

“Oh. Uh, ‘kay,” Soarin nodded and rose to leave.

Yessss…

All according to plan.

“Sweetie?” I heard Rarity call as I ascended, and my heart sank into my stomach. I wasn’t going to be able to woo Rarity properly if some munchkin was breathing down my neck the whole time, but thankfully she only seemed to be giving her some instructions, which was a relief. Rarity followed alone, whistling a surprisingly cheerful tune as she did so.

The sewing room I entered held few surprises for me; I had seen it enough times. That didn’t stop me from really taking in the sight though, breathing deeply of the scent of fabric. I got a little chill up my spine from a cool breeze, and Rarity was swift behind me to magically close the open window.

“There we are, darling!” she said stiffly, nudging the door shut behind herself. “Right-o then, why don’t you, er, tell me a bit about yourself?”

Alright, that part threw me off.

I had been expecting her to say a lot of things. Things like ‘what exactly do you wear’ or ‘my, what a fascinating hair color you must be the prince of your kind’ or ‘will you bang me now?’ I wasn’t expecting her to start asking about me, and it was kind of difficult masking the surprise. Psychic and all.

“Uh, m-me?” I blurted, quickly losing my cool that I had been struggling to collect. “Oh, uh, you-you know. I’m just, uh… just me,” I laughed weakly. She didn’t.

“Right…”

“So… uh,” I tapped my fingers together nervously the longer she stared at me. “… How about those clothes?”

“What?” she blinked eventually. “Right – right, of course,” she gave a blatantly false laugh, magically snagging the first random fabric that she saw. Which very clearly was not a tape measure. For measuring things.

I’m no nincompoop. I could tell what was going on almost right away.

“Uh huh,” I grinned, rubbing my chin between my thumb and forefinger, drawing a little closer to the distracted unicorn. She froze, watching carefully as I closed the distance between us. “You must think I’m pretty dumb, huh?”

“What-what-whatever are you, er, talking about?” Rarity was practically sweating bullets; so was I, actually, I almost wished that she’d open the window up again.

“Don’t think I don’t know what game you’re playing,” I circled around her slowly, giving her my best ‘coy and all-knowing’ look I could muster. I pictured Sean Connery. He practically oozes that look. I’m pretty sure I looked absolutely nothing like a redheaded Sean Connery, but still. Points for trying.

“And-and w-what game might that be?” she chuckled nervously, eyes never leaving me as I came so close that I could have whispered.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” I said assuredly. “That doesn’t look like a tape measure to me. You know… for measuring things. Which you were obviously not planning on doing,” I finally stopped in front of her, leaning down a bit. Not too much, still wanted to keep the height difference. Besides, it’s nice being taller than someone else every now and then.

“I guess you could almost say I have a… sixth sense for this kind of thing?” I crossed my arms smartly across my chest.

“I-I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rarity suddenly had difficulty meeting my gaze.

“Rarity Belle, puh-lease,” I put one arm against the wall, reclining. “Are you telling me – me, the psychic – that you went and made sure we were alone and isolated for nothing? When somebody like me just walks in, and you want me by myself?”

If Rarity got any more nervous her heart probably would have stopped.

“I-I-I-”

“Come on,” I grinned widely. “If you wanted me that badly, you could have just said so.”

A realization seemed to strike Rarity, and pretty hard, too. I guess it was just my charisma rubbing off on her or something.

“That’s the stu- I mean, my goodness dearie me!” she fanned herself, taking a few deep breaths. “Oh goodness, you’ve just seen right through me!”

Aww, yeah.

She digs me.

“Sweetie,” Rarity muttered through clenched teeth, watching the abominable pale thing clamber noisily up her stairs. “I don’t care what she says, just get her here now!”

“But what if Twilight Sparkle isn’t there?” Sweetie Belle asked in a hushed tone, watching as their ‘houseguest’ scratched its bum on the way up.

“I don’t have contingency plans for that!” Rarity hissed. “Find somepony – anypony else then! Just get to Twilight, tell her exactly what I told you, and then tell mom and dad that I love them! Now go!”

Sweetie Belle saluted the brave unicorn, dashing off as swiftly as her little legs would allow.

Her sister’s sacrifice to distract the beast would not be forgotten.

0-0-0-0-0

“… Hey,” Soarin said suddenly, finishing off his ice cream cone. “Can I have his if he doesn’t eat it?”

“I already told you no, Soarin,” Spitfire stated flatly as they drifted, her left hoof carrying the load. “Besides, you need to go on a diet anyway.”

“Aww, I do not,” he rolled his eyes, patting his belly. “My cousin, though – now, that guy needs a diet.”

“Nothing coming to mind,” Spitfire flapped a little harder, staying ahead of him as they neared their destination. “I don’t think I’ve met your cousin.”

“My cousin’s a total bum,” he shrugged. “Does little to nothing all day except eat, sleep, and make fart jokes.”

“Sounds like a real charmer.” Spitfire frowned.

“Yeah,” Soarin sighed wistfully. “I wish I could have gotten a government job too.”

“My father works in the Equestrian government!”

“Er… sorry for your loss?”

“… You make me furious with you sometimes, Soarin. So much it almost makes my stomach churn.”

“Does that mean I can have your ice cream?”

“DAMMIT, Soarin!”

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