Why'd It Have to be Rats?
“Rarity? Rarity, are you in there? It’s Twilight.” Twilight rapped against the Carousel Boutique’s front door again and again, yet received no response. It was odd. She knew that Rarity was there; if she wasn’t, she would’ve left some type of note. In fact, she saw the fashionista at nearby store not even five minutes ago. Still, knowing Rarity, she could’ve been busy with something else, so Twilight figured that she could just come back at a later time.
But just as she was turning to leave, her ears picked up the faintest of voices coming from inside the boutique. “Please come in.”
Twilight knew for a fact that that was Rarity, but something about her voice seemed off. It sounded tired. Defeated. The poor mare must’ve been having a rough day. Twilight knew all too well what it felt like to have a particularly bad day, but her friends were always there to at least try and alleviate it. She, at the very least, could do the same.
With a flick of magic, Twilight gently eased the door open before poking her head inside. “Rarity, I just thought I’d stop by and—” The purple mare’s face froze into a perpetual gaze equal parts surprised and terrified as she stared inside.
Seeing just one splotch of dirt in the pristine establishment would’ve been cause for worry. Any more than that simply seemed impossible. But to see the floor, the walls, the ceiling, and everything in between covered in filth, it simply left Twilight’s mind racing with questions. But all of that would have to wait. None of the mess in the store held a candle to what Twilight saw in the middle of the room.
Rarity lay sprawled out on the floor, her fine coat and mane left mangy and splotched with dirt. Bags hung under the bags hanging underneath her eyes. And that was to say nothing of the ridiculous number of mousetraps clinging to her skin in a sight that ‘painful’ couldn’t even begin to describe. ‘Confusing’, however, was a better start.
“Rarity!” Twilight cried, rushing over to the mare’s side. “Are you okay?”
A single indigo eye shot open and stared directly into Twilight’s own. A mixed sense of relief and desperation filled Rarity’s face as she shot up, latching around Twilight as though she threatened to disappear at a moment’s notice. “Oh, Twilight! Thank goodness you’re here! It was awful, simply awful!”
Twilight’s mind was racing. Did somepony break into her home? Was Rarity attacked? “What in Equestria happened here?” she asked.
“Desecration!” Rarity shouted, holding Twilight’s head close to her own. The frantic fashionista motioned towards the ruined interior of the boutique. “Look at what became of my beloved shop! Tarnished! Maimed! Destroyed!”
As much as Twilight wanted to offer her sympathies, it was fairly difficult to do so when the target of said sympathies had her in a headlock, a surprisingly tight one, at that. She tried to get herself out of it—politely, of course—but Rarity not only refused to release her, but in her dramatic tangent, completely failed to notice the purple unicorn’s efforts to free herself.
“Um, Rarity?” Twilight called, still trying and failing to free herself. “As much as I want to help you, it’s kind of hard to do that from where I am. So, do you think you could maybe let—” Apparently, Rarity’s theatrics granted her some type of clairvoyance, because she released Twilight right then and there. Unfortunately, without the fargone possibility of a warning, Twilight could do little more than become painfully reacquainted with the hardwood floor.
“My work. Just look at my work!” Rarity cried, ignoring her friend’s small spill. As Twilight picked herself back up, the white unicorn approached the dresses adorning her many mannequins, or rather, the dresses’ remains.
Tattered. Torn. Ripped asunder. Other words synonymous with ‘ruined’. Those words couldn’t even begin to describe the sorry state that her dresses, her pride, were in. The dresses before her had to have been part of one of the most important orders that she ever had to complete. Evening wear for some of Celestia’s highest ranking guards. The suit’s deep shade of blue, a color representing nobility and bravery, was splattered with mud that came from Celestia-knows-where. The neat, sharp creases that would’ve helped to show off the stallion’s fit figure were ruined and ripped to shreds. Though it must’ve been an awe-inspiring sight in the past, now, it was little more than a destroyed shell of its former self. Tearfully, Rarity rubbed a mournful hoof over the destroyed fabric.
Twilight could only stand by with a hoof up to her mouth, struck completely speechless. Those clothes were practically Rarity’s life. They were to her what flying was to Rainbow Dash. What honesty and hard work was to Applejack. What books and studying was to Twilight. They were virtually a part of her, and here they were, completely ruined by some cruel entity of malice.
As tears began streaking down Rarity’s cheeks, Twilight could no longer stand idly by. Wordlessly, she approached the crying unicorn and took her into a hug, one that Rarity was quick to accept. “It’s okay, Rarity. We’ll find who did this.”
“It’s just terrible that he managed to get away with it,” Rarity said between sobs.
Twilight gently patted Rarity’s back in a bid to calm her down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Rarity, still sniffing back more tears, broke away from Twilight’s embrace. “Well, I hadn’t planned on it. But since you asked…” With a flick of magic, Rarity brought over a red leather couch before promptly throwing herself onto it with a loud sigh.
All too familiar with Rarity’s theatrical antics, Twilight was hardly surprised. She merely rolled her eyes as she approached the couch. Taking a seat in front of it, Twilight simply waited for Rarity to regain her composure.
She waited. And she waited. And she waited some more.
After what she felt was a sufficient amount of waiting, Twilight cleared her throat. “So… I guess you’re going to tell me what happened now?”
Rarity’s head snapped up as though the purple unicorn caught her by surprise. “What? Oh, yes, of course. My apologies, Twilight, I was still wracked with shock.”
A small sigh passed through Twilight’s muzzle as she looked back up at her dramatic friend. Funnily enough, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t as terribly tragic as they first appeared.
Rarity shifted into a more comfortable position on her couch, lying on her stomach as she faced Twilight. Their eyes interlocked, Rarity’s own still glistening with recent tears. “Oh, it’s all still so clear in my mind. I remember it as though it happened yesterday.”
“But didn’t it happen today?” Twilight flatly asked.
“As though it happened yesterday,” Rarity repeated. “It all goes back to that fateful morning…”
My day began as normally as any other. I lay in the comfort and sanctity of my bed, cozily wrapped up in my satin sheets. You know, it is shocking how so many ponies are quick to dismiss the importance of quality bed sheets. Find the right ones and I assure you, you will be sleeping like a foal within minutes, but now I’m simply going off on a tangent.
It was early morning, and as such, Celestia’s brilliant sun rose over the horizon, its magnificent, golden rays shining through my window. The scene was simply heavenly. Even through my sleeping mask, I could feel the warm light dance across my face, easing my eyes open.
With a small yawn, I sat up in my bed, stretching out the kinks in my legs. What followed next was, more or less, my morning routine. After removing my mask, I gently slid the sheets off of my form, rolled out of bed, and trotted towards my bathroom. However, as I neared it, I cast a glance towards my desk. I barely even heard myself scream as my wide eyes stared at the monstrosity that dared to plague my morning.
Its eyes were of the deepest red, practically bloodshot and chilling to the bone. The skin was a wasteland of wrinkles and cracks. And its mane! Ugh! That disgusting ball of hair atop its head was anything but. Countless strands stuck out in what I could’ve only assumed was once a properly controlled hairdo, but the sight of it at that precise moment in time was appalling! I was certain that I saw a few grey spots as well.
(“Oh, my goodness! What was it?”)
(“Hush, darling. I’m getting to that.”)
Yes, it was never a pleasant sight whenever I saw my reflection in the early morning. Even refined ladies such as myself had their bad mornings every so often, and they never ceased to both surprise and annoy me whenever they reared their ugly heads. Though it was bound to delay my morning plans, I knew that I could not let such a visual travesty see the light of day for a single second further. After all, it wasn’t as though it would take an agonizing amount of time. Why, in fact, I liked to believe that I was capable of taming even the wildest of manes in a timely manner. It would only take some shampoo, a brush, a comb, some mane conditioner would never hurt anypony, and a hint of—
(“Er, Rarity?”)
With her story cut short, Rarity shifted once again on her leather couch, looking back up at her audience of one. “Yes, Twilight?” Her mouth curled into a small frown as she saw Twilight’s dubious expression. “What’s that look for? You seem confused.”
As analytical as Twilight could be at times, even her face scrunched in confusion as she tried to wrap her head around the story thus far. “You were just having a bad mane day?” She motioned to all of the destruction surrounding the two. “That’s what led to all of this?
The fashionista waved a nonchalant hoof, a small smile gracing her face. “Oh, of course not. Don’t be ridiculous, dear.”
Twilight promptly raised an eyebrow. She was all too familiar with Rarity’s relatively slow pace when it came to her stories, and as supportive as she wanted to be, she did have other matters to attend to. Those lists wouldn’t complete themselves. “Well, not to sound rude,” Twilight began, scratching the back of her head, “but do you think that you could skip ahead to what did do this?”
Rarity hardly took the suggestion well, turning her nose up at the unicorn with a huff. “Very well,” she quickly said, not without shooting an impish smirk towards her friend. “But I’ve seen you on a bad mane day. Don’t come crying to me when you find yourself faced with another.”
Twilight only rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind…”
Settling back into her seat, Rarity rubbed a contemplative hoof to her chin. “Now, I suppose skipping ahead would place us a few hours later. What was I doing then? Ah! Yes, now I remember.”
It was sometime in midafternoon when the perpetrator made its way into my home. I was busying myself with putting the final touches on a customer’s dress. With my spectacles resting gently on my face, I peered intently at the work before me as I carefully snipped and stitched where need be. Most others likely would’ve stopped long ago, but I was a firm believer of ensuring that perfection went down to the smallest of details.
You know, Twilight, I sometimes wondered if any of my clients truly appreciated the time and effort that I put into each and every one of my creations. No matter how large the order, no matter how idiotic the requests, I never went through with the intention to simply ‘get it over with’. I would sooner go a week without a bath before doing such a thing. Every snip, every stitch, every thread, was careful, calculated, and deliberate. Yes, it sometimes took time, more so with larger orders, but it was always well worth it in the end.
Case in point, the dress in front of me. It was a wedding dress, an unsurprisingly common request. On this particular occasion, however, it was for a wedding themed around space, a nice, if rather ridiculous, change of pace. Now, the mare in question was a fan of Neighptune in particular. That being the case, I only saw it fitting that I based her dress off of that.
While I may not be as knowledgeable in space as one such as yourself, Twilight, I did know that many admired the planet for its beautiful shade of blue. It was certainly one of Luna’s greatest strokes of creative genius. That being the case, that gorgeous blue was the dress’ dominant color. As an added touch, I arranged the fabric in a way that mimicked the planet’s swirling surface. Such ideas may have seemed ingenious to most other ponies, but for one such as myself, it was only a simple matter of going the extra distance.
(“Rarity, I don’t think that—”)
(“Calm down, dear. These are important details.”)
(“Important? I really don’t see how it’s—”)
(“Twilight, my house was ravaged by a grotesque abomination! Allow a grieving mare to bask in her moments of glory!”)
(“…Fine.”)
Now, I was only a few mere stitches away from completing this work of art. In all honesty, I wouldn’t be able to tell you why I hadn’t finished it sooner. It was certainly nothing too complicated, and even if I took my time, I would still have had a rather substantial amount of time to spare. Yet I still wasn’t done yet, and didn’t know why.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders Bungee Jumpers! Yay!”
Oh, dear. Not again.
Of course, however, it didn’t take long before I remembered the reason. With a sigh more out of fatigue than annoyance, I placed my sewing materials back into their respective drawers and went outside. Being the owner of a fairly popular business may not have been easy, but that responsibility paled in comparison to the one that I held as an elder sister, and that paled in comparison to the responsibility that I held as a foal sitter for three fillies bubblier than Pinkie Pie on a good day.
Stepping outside, it did not take me very long at all to find the three ecstatic fillies. Normally, the sight of three young girls atop a building would be cause for panic in any pony’s heart. However, as you already know, Sweetie Belle and her friends have proven to be anything but normal. These were the same fillies that, at one point, had plans to earn their cutie marks in manticore taming. As such, their being on the roof of my boutique was not the most dangerous thing they’d ever done. Unfortunately for them, that did not mean that I was any more tolerant of their antics.
“Sweetie Belle!” I shouted, my face a stern expression of disapproval. “You and your friends get down here this instant!”
Groans of disappointment left the muzzles of all three fillies. “Aww, but Rarity…” Sweetie whined.
I already knew what she was trying to do, and I was having none of it. “No buts, young lady. I will not stand by and allow you three to take part in something so—” My breath hitched in my throat as I noticed something very peculiar about Sweetie’s ‘bungee jumping gear’. “Wait a moment. Is… is that my fabric you’re using?”
She didn’t answer me, but she didn’t need to. I would recognize that silky red fabric from a mile away. It was a material I used primarily for cloaks, capes, and others such items. It was fairly firm material for what it was, but I had my doubts that it would be able to properly serve as a safety cable. It only further cemented the fact that I showed up just in time to prevent another potential disaster.
“Sweetie Belle, I’m waiting,” I called again, tapping an impatient hoof on the ground.
I noticed Sweetie wince at my voice’s tone. Both she and I knew it all too well. It was the same tone that our parents used when either of us was in trouble. Unfortunately for her, however, I went through the trouble of adopting that tone for myself. It had yet to fail me since.
Finally, Sweetie Belle decided that it was time to face the music, so to speak. “Um, yes?” she hesitantly answered. However, she was quick to add something of an addendum to her confession. “But I was going to put it back once we were finished!”
As unladylike as it seemed, I couldn’t keep my hoof from finding its way to my face as a released another sigh, this one out of annoyance. I never did understand what went through that filly’s head, nor do I think I will anytime soon. “I don’t care about the fabric, Sweetie. Just please come down from there and go to your room. We will talk about this later.”
My dear sister slouched over in dejection as she unwrapped herself from my fabric. “Yes, Rarity,” she solemnly answered.
As she and her friends made their way back down into the boutique, I couldn’t help but shake my head. While I never enjoyed seeing my sister sad, I couldn’t just stand idly by while she went on with these ridiculous stunts. I still don’t understand how she can so willingly follow through with things so dangerous. I had no intentions on trying to understand, either. Just the mere thought of it gave me a headache. Still, she was safe again, and that was what mattered.
Heading back into my home, I started directly towards the nearly completed dress. It would only take a few more stitches before I felt it reached proper standards. However, as I grew nearer, I could have sworn that I caught something scurrying across my pristine floor right out of the corner of my eye. With a sharp gasp, I directed my attention towards the source, only to find nothing. I quickly rubbed my eyes as I scanned the floor a second time. I knew that I had seen something. Something small. It couldn’t have been Opal; she was snuggled in her bed off in the corner, enjoying her afternoon nap.
Bringing my gaze up towards the door, I realized that in my haste, I failed to close it. With a single push of magic, I quickly resolved that error. Of course, that still didn’t answer the question pertaining to what I saw, but I merely assumed that I was seeing things. It was a mistake that I would soon regret, but now I’m just getting ahead of myself.
Composure promptly regained, I placed myself back in front of my work. All it would take were a few more well-placed snips. I opened my drawer, my dressing scissors floating out, wrapped in a light blue aura. But just before I could apply the final, teensy, little touches to the dress, my ears twitched ever so slightly as they picked up the faintest of squeaks.
The scissors fell from my grip, clattering against the ground as an admittedly unladylike yelp left my lips. I nearly stumbled backwards from the shock, tearing my eyes across the corners of my boutique. There was nothing there.
(“Oh, so that was you a few hours ago?”)
(“Yes, dear. Now, hush.”)
I didn’t want to think much of the noise. In fact, after my initial shock, I wiped the sound from my mind after a few short seconds. With something of a calming sigh, I retrieved my scissors from the floor and turned to face my creation once again.
It was hardly an intentional reaction, more instinctive than anything, but another embarrassingly uncouth scream left my mouth. At first, I had merely thought that the noise was a figment of my imagination, or, at the very least, was coming from the outside. Oh, how wrong was I. The source of the noise was not a figment of my imagination; it was not coming from the outside. The source was right there, mere inches from my face, perched defiantly upon my unfinished dress.
Stare was all I could do. I had already screamed and could do little else after that. Make no mistake, I wanted to move, but pure shock left my muscles completely unresponsive to my desires.
Its beady, black eyes stared into mine, cold and unblinking, boring into my very being. Mangy, steel grey fur covered nearly its entire body, save for its lengthy, spindly tail, the bare, pink appendage left dangling in the air. And those feet. Ugh! Four disgusting little paws, each sporting five, sharp, clinging toes. That creature used those same four paws to cling to my beautiful dress! Just it being there must have been a blatant crime against fashion!
It was a… a wretched, repulsive, repugnant, revolting, and all-around vile rat!
As though the shocking reveal was simply too much for the fashionista to bear, with a melodramatic sigh, Rarity fainted on her couch, a hoof resting on her forehead.
For an awkwardly lengthy period of time, she lay like that, leaving a justifiably confused Twilight to try and piece things together herself. It wasn’t the theatrical performance that left the purple unicorn lost, goodness no. Twilight had grown used to her friend’s theatrics long, long ago. A speckle of dirt on her coat would throw her into a frenzy. No, what left Twilight confused was the apparent cause of Rarity’s trouble.
The purple unicorn glanced left, then right. She nearly expected some sort of camera crew to burst out of the woodwork shouting ‘pranked’. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. “Er… just a rat, Rarity?”
Her confused statement seemed to be enough to jolt Rarity from her faux unconscious state. She shot right up in her couch, surprise clear in her eyes as she stared back at her friend. “Twilight. It is never just a rat. A rat is a walking symbol of filth. Just having one in your home is a sign that your home is disgusting, which my home most certainly is not!”
Twilight brushed off Rarity’s rather passionate answer and gave the boutique another look over, her eyes scanning across the messy state it was in. Numerous, tiny, muddy animal prints dotted the white floor, trailing all over the building’s interior. They certainly did seem like rat prints, not that she thought that Rarity was lying; it went even further to explain the numerous mouse traps littering the floor. It didn’t come across as very surprising that Rarity would pull out all of the stops to get such an animal out of her home, but it still seemed odd.
Twilight’s eyes switched over to more destructive aftermath. As she laid eyes on the tattered remains of Rarity’s dresses, and the shattered remains of lamps on the floor, Twilight was left very curious.
“Um, Rarity?” she called, looking back at the unicorn. “How did a rat manage to do all of this?”
Rarity, with eyes closed and mouth curled down into a frown, solemnly shook her head, breathing a quiet sigh. “You will know in due time, darling.”
I can’t recall how long I’d been staring at the creature. A few seconds? A few minutes? It hardly matters now, but at that moment, it felt as though I blacked out. My mind must’ve been going through the effort of processing and judging the probability that the sight before me was real. Keep in mind, I go through great lengths to ensure that my establishment is as clean as possible; any speck of dirt, any errant ball of dust never escaped my sight. So, there was only one question racing through my mind. How did this… this thing, this walking symbol of filth, muck, and pestilence, find its way into my home?
Finally, it clicked in my mind. It was clear that the thing before me was there, there was no point in denying that. That being the case, I did what any rational, dignified lady such as myself would do. Looking back, I like to believe that I kept a relatively level head.
(“Somehow, I doubt that.”)
“Ahhhh! Disgusting, wretched, horrid beast! How dare you come into my home? Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout!” Within seconds, I found myself standing atop a nearby chair, my eyes wide with terror as they kept themselves fixated on the furry, little monster. Despite my very clear fear, despite my angered shouts towards it, that rat remained perched upon my work, unmoving, like a giant, grey blemish on otherwise flawless skin.
Those eyes, those black, soulless eyes, just kept staring at me, almost with curiosity. Its small, pink nose twitched ever so slightly as it took a few soft whiffs of the air, no doubt trying to find the scent of food, the parasite.
I couldn’t explain why, but as I stood there, watching that vermin watch me, I grew angry. It had the gall, the audacity, to come into my home, to place its filthy paws on my dresses, and then just stare at me as though nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong! And I was going to ensure that I set things right again.
The broom, wrapped in a blue aura, floated towards me, my eyes still fixed on the animal. “I said get out!” I swung the broom at the intruding creature, not forceful enough to seriously injure it, but certainly enough to scare it off. It must’ve known what I was planning, however, because as soon as I swung at it, the accursed thing decided then to hop down from the mannequin. My broom swung through thin air, thankfully missing my dress by inches.
By the time I tracked down the rat’s whereabouts, it was already scurrying across my clean floor before disappearing into a crack in the wall. I heaved an annoyed sigh as the pest escaped me. If there was something more annoying than a mere disgusting rat, it was a persistent one. With it gone, I brought my attention back to my dress, only to be met by another… displeasing sight, to put it lightly.
Right where the rat was standing, right where it leapt from, was a quadruplet of ragged tears in the blue fabric. I felt my eye twitch ever so slightly as I stared over the damage. It was nothing severe, no, not at all. In fact, it would only take a mere ten minutes to fix, give or take. No, what annoyed me, what got under my skin, was the fact that that blasted rat had caused it, that it had inconvenienced me.
Still, I couldn’t allow that to get to me. You know what they say, ‘Out of sight, out of mind’ and all that. I simply had to push that rat out of my mind. It was gone, and now my dress required even more attention. Taking my seat in front of it, I set out to give it that attention, making efforts to wash that vile thing clean from my mind.
(“I’m guessing it didn’t work?”)
(“Oh, it failed miserably.”)
Not even a few minutes went by before the blasted thing decided to make its presence known again. As I busied myself with repairing the tears that it caused, my ears twitched as they picked up another noise. Not squeaks this time, but scratching. Scratching coming from inside the walls. My mouth curled into a frown, but I kept focus on my work. It was annoying, yes, but I was not going to concern myself with such an insignificant thing. Easier said than done, unfortunately.
Repairing the tears did do a fairly good job at keeping me distracted at first, but even that wasn’t enough to block out that confounded scratching for long. I could hear it as it moved all around me, no doubt crawling around the space behind the wall. It was rather embarrassing how difficult it was for me to ignore the noise. In fact, it made me angrier. Its persistence, its scampering around, it all only served to taunt me further, to remind me that the rat was still in my home, and that it had no intention of leaving any time soon.
I didn’t even notice as my sewing grew more and more aggressive, or as my face contorted into something of a vicious snarl. That sound was akin to talons against a blackboard, I simply couldn’t not focus on it. It was a problem that I couldn’t ignore, one that I had to rid myself of.
(“Don’t you think you were overreacting just a bit?”)
(“Nonsense! It was given a chance to leave peacefully and chose to spurn it! It forced my hoof. Therefore, I had to ensure that I saw it out in a nice, calm manner.”)
(“Calm… right.”)
Now, being something of a resourceful mare, I went about dealing with this flea-ridden problem with a simple solution. After rummaging through my closet, sifting through all manner of sewing material, foalhood toys, and restraining orders against various stallions, I trotted towards the crack that the little pest disappeared into, carrying with me what was arguably Equestria’s greatest creation.
(“You have a copy of the Equestrian Constitution too?”)
A mousetrap.
(“Oh. Yeah, I… I guess those are pretty useful.”)
After placing the dandy, little device in front of the crack, I went to retrieve bait. Now, while I may not have been very fond of cheese, I had suitable alternatives. Rats like cantaloupe, right? Never mind, it doesn’t matter.
With a slice of the hardy fruit floating next to me, I made my way out of the kitchen. Now, I’m fairly certain that I wasn’t going crazy just yet, and knew for a fact that I left the mousetrap in front of that little hole in the wall, which was on the opposite end of the boutique. That being the case, imagine my surprise when I stepped out of the kitchen only to be greeted by a sudden, loud crack. As startled as I would’ve been to such an abrupt noise, the shock hardly registered through the sharp, pinching pain shooting through my front right hoof at that very same instant.
Scream was all I could do, and scream I did, bouncing on my three other hooves as that painful pinch refused to go away. I felt the mousetrap clinging to my hoof, and it simply was not going to let go. As though that wasn’t awful enough, I failed to notice my magic disperse, dropping the cantaloupe onto the floor mere inches from me.
Now, I am uncertain if you already know that stepping onto a tiny slice of cantaloupe, or any fruit for that matter, is akin to stepping on oil slick, but let me assure you, it is. I discovered that the hard way when I unwittingly hopped on it during my pain-induced fit. I hardly even had time to cry out in surprise before I made myself acquainted with my considerably hard floor. Not my finest moment.
As I lay there, head throbbing and that aching pain lingering in my hoof, I saw it. That blasted rodent was in the middle of my boutique, its nasty, little body sprawled out across the floor, clutching its stomach as it released a series of hearty, ear-piercing squeaks. I could only surmise that it was laughter. Mocking laughter. And it was directed towards me.
So, to recount, I was just toppled over by a mangy rat, a traitorous mousetrap, and a small slice of fruit, with said rat laughing at my plight as though I were a jester for its amusement. Again, not my finest moment.
With a brief tug of magic, I yanked the worthless contraption from my hoof, having to suffer through one final pinch before it finally released me. Tossing the thing aside, I slowly got back onto my hooves. Of course, the source of my ire still sat in the middle of the room, staring at me with those black, beady eyes, taunting me.
I highly doubt that ‘angry’ would have been sufficient to properly describe how I felt. ‘Completely, utterly, mane-pullingly livid’, on the other hoof, felt much, much more appropriate, but still didn’t succeed in fully describing the feeling. It was odd, though. I can’t recall the slightest frown or furrow of my brow at that moment in time. I can only remember standing in that spot for the longest time, my eyes, cold but fierce, boring into that rat’s being. Have you ever heard of ‘tranquil fury’, Twilight? I believe it was akin to that.
“You unwholesome, disgusting, flea-ridden, walking pile of filth!” I shouted at the intruder. I barely noticed my voice growing louder with each spoken word. “You will rue the day that you came into my home!”
To be perfectly honest, I was hoping that my little threat would be enough to get the accursed thing to leave, but that was foolish, wishful thinking. However, it should have, at the very least, struck fear into its heart. So, imagine my utter offense when that rodent didn’t even bat an eyelash, let alone the deliciously fearful expression I had been hoping for. It wasn’t the least bit scared of me! How was that possible? I can be intimidating, right, Twilight?
(“Uh, y-yeah! You sure can! Heh heh.”)
“That. Is. It!” I shouted. It was one thing to simply have a pest make its way into your home. It was another thing entirely to know that said pest wasn’t even intimidated by you. The fact that something so small and insignificant was not scared of me was nothing short of insulting, and I was not going to stand for it! If it wasn’t going to leave of its own accord, then I simply had to force it out myself.
I lunged towards the wretched beast, poised to pounce on the pesky pest. I didn’t even consider the fact that my pristine, clean fur was going to make contact with the thing; it was nothing that an hour-long bubble bath wouldn’t wash away. I simply wanted it out of my home.
Unfortunately, I underestimated the agility of something so small. There couldn’t have been more than a few inches between us when it finally moved. The coward simply leapt out of the way, of course, leaving me to become acquainted to the floor once again. Unfortunately, by the time I scrambled back up to my hooves, the accursed thing already scurried out of sight. No matter where I looked, that rat was nowhere to be seen.
(“Wait. Why didn’t you just use your magic to catch the—?”)
(“Twilight. Shush.”)
I was at my wits’ end, and that rancid rodent was only pushing me even further past the edge. It was strange. I couldn’t tell you exactly how things changed within those few short moments, but this was no longer an issue of getting a pest out of my home. It was an issue of pride. The blasted thing saw me as a source of amusement, a plaything, and I refused to tolerate that! I would not be outsmarted, outwitted, and otherwise humiliated by a filthy rodent!
Of course, my growing agitation was no reason to lose my composure.
(“Can’t lose what’s already been lost.”)
(“What was that, Twilight?”)
(“Nothing! Please, continue.”)
As I was saying, I was not about to allow a rodent to get the best of me. Of our two species, I was the smartest, the most resourceful. I was the master, and so help me, that rat was going to learn that.
“Ahh! Eww! Eww! Eww! That… that’s… Ewwww!”
My blood, running hot with the promise of interspecies warfare, went cold as that shrill voice pierced my eardrums. It was Sweetie Belle. That rat… It didn’t dare have the gall, the audacity, to…
“Ahhhhhhh!”
“Don’t worry, Sweetie! Your sister’s coming!” I hardly even had to think about darting up the stairs as I hurried to Sweetie’s room. Something about saving a loved one from certain doom had a rather curious way of putting one’s body into autopilot.
Moving faster than I ever thought myself capable, I found myself in front of Sweetie’s room in mere seconds. Without so much as a second thought, I spun around and bucked the door open.
(“Wait, you bucked the door open? Isn’t that a little… drastic?”)
(“Hmm. I suppose you have a point. Looking back, it was a tad uncalled for. Especially since the door was already unlocked. Speaking of which, you wouldn’t happen to know any inexpensive ways of fixing a doorframe, would you?”)
(“Ugh…”)
(“Never mind. Now, where was I?”)
Ignoring the self-inflicted property damage, I rushed into my darling sister’s room, prepared to battle whatever diabolic dangers that pestilent pest was prepared to inflict. As expected, I spotted Sweetie and her friends in the middle of the room. Or rather, I spotted Apple Bloom and Scootaloo laughing their hearts out while Sweetie cowered underneath her bed. She was no doubt terrified by that disease-ridden vermin. Granted, that didn’t quite explain why her friends were laughing, but I was still high on adrenaline, so I wasn’t concerning myself with small details like that. I simply wanted to ensure my sister’s safe and immediate safety.
Without so much as uttering a single word, I rushed to my sister’s aid. I snatched her up from under her bed, holding her tight. “Oh, it’s going to be okay, my dearest Sweetie,” I cooed, stroking my sister’s slightly ruffled mane back into place. The poor dear was trembling like a leaf. It was awful. No filly should have to go through such terrors. “Everything will be okay. Your sister is here.”
All the while, her friends merely sat by. Though they tried to stifle them, I was still able to catch the telltale snickers of teasing laughter. At first, I had merely ignored them in favor of protecting my sister, but hearing them now only served to pour more fuel onto the flames that were my agitation. Friends or not, I would not allow anypony to laugh at my kin.
Their laughter came to an immediate halt when I turned a glare towards them. “You two should be ashamed of yourselves,” I chided. “Poking fun at a friend after she was scared out of her wits.”
And then those two felt the need to give me that look. You know what I’m talking about, Twilight. That confused, puppy-dog look that made it seem as though I was in the wrong. “But Ms. Rarity…” Apple Bloom whined.
I will admit, if the situation were like most others, I may have been more forgiving, but I was having none of it. “No buts, young lady. This is nothing to joke about. You may be used to such things back on your farm, but this is a refined establishment. I will not allow for such things here.”
“Aw, come on!” Scootaloo interjected, her tiny wings fluttering about in agitation. “It was just a joke! It’s not our fault Sweetie can’t grow a backbone sometimes.”
Ugh, I could certainly see where the similarities between her and Rainbow Dash came from, and much like Rainbow Dash, I decided that the best way of dealing with her was to simply ignore her.
“R-Rarity?” I heard my dear sister squeak out.
Whatever irritation I felt towards her friends vanished in a second as I looked back at her. “Yes, dear? What is it?”
“S-Slendermane isn’t real, is he?”
I held my sister even closer, hoping to dispel any fears that she may have had. “Oh, of course not, Sweetie. That is simply a—” Whatever sisterly instincts I had been following were promptly crushed under the unforgiving weight of confusion as I registered what she had just said. “E-excuse me, Sweetie, but… What?”
Evidently, Sweetie Belle failed to notice my immense confusion, as she simply looked up at me, staring at me with her tear-filled eyes. “Apple Bloom and Scootaloo told me that if I kept misbehaving, Slendermane would come and snatch me away. That’s not true, right?”
Normally, I would’ve spent the next ten minutes chastising her friends for filling her head with such overhyped nonsense, but that irritation was, again, overridden by the aforementioned confusion. “Er, yes, Sweetie. All of that talk is simply nonsense. But, uh, if you wouldn’t mind, could you answer something for me?”
I could already see Sweetie’s relief at my assurances that the fake scary stallion in the woods was, in fact, fake. She broke away from my hug, the tears in her eyes practically gone, thank goodness. They were beginning to soak my coat. “Um, what is it?” she asked.
“Have you seen a… rat recently?” I must admit, the question certainly sounded better in the confines of my mind. But to hear it leave my lips, to see myself ask my sister such an odd question, it simply didn’t seem right. The confused look that my sister gave me wasn’t helping matters either.
“A rat?” she repeated, more to herself than anypony else. “Um, no? Why?”
Before I could simply tell her ‘Oh, nothing,’ like a proper lady, Scootaloo felt the need to answer for me in a notably less proper manner. “Because seeing rats is the first sign that the Slendermane is coming!” she said, waving her front legs in the air.
And with that, Sweetie’s fears resurfaced yet again. “Rarity!” she whined, hoping that I’d make things better again.
I couldn’t keep an annoyed sigh from passing through my lips. I honestly wondered what she saw in those friends of her at times. “First of all, Scootaloo, you simply made that up. Secondly, that isn’t why I asked.”
“Then why did ya ask?” Apple Bloom asked. “Seems like a weird question t’ ask in your ‘refined establishment’.”
First I was outwitted by a rat, and now I found myself being interrogated by three fillies. Again, not my finest moment.
“You know what? Never mind. Just forget that I said anything. Just please, stop terrorizing my sister.” Hoping to escape the madness, I started towards the door.
“Um, Rarity?” I heard Sweetie call.
I stopped, turning back towards her. “Yes, dear?”
“You’re not still mad about earlier, are you?”
I breathed a small sigh as I walked back to my sister. As I said before, I could never stay mad at her, especially over such material, albeit expensive, possessions. I pulled her into another hug. “Of course not, Sweetie. It was simple fabric, nothing that I can’t replace. However, if you’re going to do something so dangerous, at least have the proper supervision.”
“Okay.”
I turned a glare towards her friends. “And as for you two, the next time that you intend to do something as reckless as this, at least have the common sense to… to…” As annoyed as I was at them, even I couldn’t miss the rather perplexed stares that they gave me. Even odder, it didn’t even seem to be directed towards me, at least not my eyes. Rather, it was something just above my eyes. “What? What is it?”
“Er, Rarity?” Apple Bloom quietly said. “Y’know that rat you mentioned?”
I felt my mouth curl into a frown as the slightest hints of worry crept onto my face. “Yes. What about it?”
Scootaloo chose to speak next, her eyes still glued on whatever it was they were glued on. “I think we found it.”
Worry and confusion battled for dominance inside my mind as I tried to piece together what I had just heard. “Wh-wh-what could you possibly mean by—?” Whatever confusion I felt was immediately replaced with gut-wrenching terror when I heard it. That blasted, ear-piercing, high-pitched squeak.
And it was right above me.
As I stood there, frozen in place by the unmistakable sense of terror, I finally noticed a few things that were simply wrong. I felt something—no heavier than a few ounces—resting on my mane. I felt the prickly sensation of small paws on my scalp as they gently scraped against the skin. And that squeak. Oh, that squeak. It was nothing more than a taunt. Its only purpose was to alert me to its presence.
(“Rarity, you’re starting to scare me.”)
Slowly, without moving my head, I looked up. I am fairly certain that one of my eyes twitched with unbridled anger as it laid eyes on the target of my ire. Poking its little head into my vision, staring right back down at me, its tiny mouth curled into what could have only been a devilish grin, was that dreadful, vile, vulgar, obscene, disgusting, putrid, rancid, wretched, contemptible, degenerate—
(“Rarity! Rarity! Calm down! Breathe!”)
—heinous, nefarious, atrocious vermin!
It was resting on my head. All of this time, it was resting its flea-ridden body on my head, turning my beautiful mane into its own personal bed! Do you have any idea where such a creature could’ve been? How many trashcans it perused? How long those paws have been scurrying across the dirt or worse? And it was resting on my head.
I didn’t move. I didn’t remove my eyes from the rodent. I doubt that I even breathed. Those beady, black eyes stared into mine, almost daring me to make a move. Oh, let me assure you, I was going to make a move. It would be the last move that that creature would ever see.
“Sweetie Belle, fetch me the broom,” I quickly said. I kept my eyes glued to the rat. I had learned the hard way how quickly these pests moved. I would not let it out of my sight again.
Unfortunately, Sweetie didn’t seem to see the same dire predicament as I did. “But why do you need the broom?”
“Just get it! Please.” Evidently, it just took a sterner voice earn Sweetie’s compliance. I heard her rummage around in her closet before dragging out her broom by the handle. I made a quick mental note to continue those telekinesis lessons that I promised.
“Here… you… go,” she said through clenched teeth.
After hearing the distinct clink of wood against the floor, I quickly snatched the broom up in my magic. The rat still hadn’t made the slightest move, nor did I. Slowly, I positioned the broom as perfectly as my nerves would allow, ensuring a swift, direct strike. I could feel the sweat trickle down my forehead as I readied myself. The rodent still hadn’t moved, nor did it show any signs that it was aware of my intentions. It was as good as a chance as I was going to get, and I was not going to spurn it.
(“Did it work?”)
(“Take a guess, Twilight.”)
I don’t know who first discovered that ice helps to bring down swelling, but that pony was undoubtedly a genius. They deserved a medal, they did. If they already had one, then they deserved another, or at the very least, a statue erected in their honor. Twilight, remind me to send a letter to the princesses requesting such a thing.
I stood in front of the bathroom sink, holding a bagful of ice firmly to that grotesque bump poking out of my mane. All the while, I had to stare at myself in the mirror, that bump serving as a reminder to never underestimate the speed at which those blasted critters could move. It also served as a reminder to purchase softer brooms, preferably ones made of clouds, pillows, and aspirin.
As for the three girls? Well, I believe it went without saying that my small war with a pest left them equal parts confused and worried, Sweetie Belle most of all. “Um, Rari—?”
I quickly help up a hoof, signaling for her silence. “Not now, Sweetie. Just… give me a moment longer.” It wasn’t out of irritation towards her, oh, no, no, no. It’s just… Well, when you’ve hit yourself over the head with something that’s essentially a block of cement on a stick, you’ll quickly come to learn that anything louder than a whisper is akin to red-hot needles piercing your skull.
Thankfully, the feeling didn’t linger for very long. Again, bless whoever discovered that ice was a headache’s worse enemy. Once it was properly suppressed and I threw the ice bag away, I turned towards the three fillies, all of whom were apparently waiting for a status report.
“Now, I don’t know what you’ve all seen,” I calmly said, “but it is best that you forget it.”
If their confused expressions were anything to go off of, I think it was reasonable to say that they didn’t quite catch my drift. “But Ah don’t get it,” Apple Bloom said, proving my point. “Why didn’t ya just tell us ya had a rat runnin’ ‘round here in the first place?”
“Now, now. I understand that you may not have liked being kept in the dark about this, but I assure you, it’s for your own safety. I simply couldn’t allow you all to get wrapped up in all of this.”
“Why not? Ah help mah sis catch rats around the farm all the time.”
“It’s a simple matter of preserving cleanli—” Now, while I’m fairly certain that I hadn’t struck myself quite hard enough to cause delirium, I still had trouble believing what I had just heard. “Er, beg your pardon, Apple Bloom? You actually have experience in capturing these filthy abominations?”
“Hey now. They may not be the prettiest, but Ah don’t think Ah’d call ‘em abubba… abominiba… what you just called ‘em! They’re probably more scared o’ us than we are ‘o them. ‘Specially if we go after ‘em with brooms.”
‘Scared of us’. Hmph. I was tempted to show little Apple Bloom the reddish bump on my head that the ‘scared’ rodent was so kind to leave me with. I wish that blasted thing was scared of me. It certainly would’ve made this ridiculous affair significantly easier. However, annoyed as I was, I still didn’t allow the little one’s words to go by unnoticed. In fact, if her words rung true, then they just introduced a new solution.
(“Rarity, you didn’t…”)
(“You don’t even know what I’m about to say. Patience, darling. Patience.”)
“Apple Bloom, would you consider yourself skilled at capturing these rodents?” I asked.
The young filly took up a more confident posture. “O’ course!” she answered with certainty. “Applejack always gives me an extra slice o’ Granny Smith’s apple pie for every one Ah catch, so Ah got good at it real quick.”
Very interesting, I had to admit. By myself, that rodent proved time and time again that it was capable of escaping my attempts at capturing it. That in no way meant that it was smarter than me! I simply needed assistance, was all. That assistance just happened to come in tiny packages. It wasn’t desperation, it was simple planning.
(“Rarity, I can’t believe you! You actually had Apple Bloom capture a rat for you?”)
(“Of course not, Twilight! Having little Apple Bloom do that all by her lonesome? Honestly, what kind of mare do you take me for? Perhaps if you simply listened, you wouldn’t jump to such outlandish conclusions.”)
(“Okay. Okay. Sorry.”)
“Um, Sweetie Belle? Your sister’s starting to creep me out.” The confused, slightly scared tone behind Scootaloo’s voice did do well complementing the equally confused, slightly scared expressions of her two friends.
In hindsight, perhaps I should have offered proper context before throwing myself down at their hooves in a pleading wreck. Oh, well. The past is the past.
“Oh, pleasepleaseplease! Sweet, precious Apple Bloom, you must aid me in ridding myself of this bothersome rodent! I have tried, and I have failed. Oh, have I failed. No matter what I do, it manages to evade my grasp. You have seen its dastardly handiwork with your own eyes. You have seen what it is capable of. It taunts me! But you… You may just be that single shimmer of light in this dark time of mine. In layman’s terms, please help me!”
(“Not your finest moment?”)
(“Excuse the harshness, Twilight, but please… Shut up.”)
While I was unable to actually see how the child reacted due to the tears trickling from my eyes (On cue, no less. Very proud of that), I could only assume that she spent the next few seconds sharing nervous glances between her friends. Yes, I may not have been at my most composed, but it was hardly my fault. I was suffering from a stress-induced breakdown, for goodness’ sake.
Finally, I heard Apple Bloom give her answer. “Um… A-alright.”
“Oh, I’m begging you! You simply need to—What?”
Now, I am not saying that I was ecstatic to know that I had just enlisted a filly’s help in an embarrassingly simple matter. However, I will say that if there was a law against making a filly uncomfortable with your gaze, I would have been going straight to the dungeon because I am certain that my gaze was nothing short of perverted. So to speak.
It was certainly easy to see that the young filly was questioning whether it was best to help a poor mare in need of assistance or to inch her way towards the nearest exit. “Ah mean, if it’s just a rat, Ah can probably get it outta here pretty quick.”
I will admit, I likely could have convinced her more easily if I had gone for a less frightening approach. Still, I had a fairly tight grip on her legs, so it wasn’t as though she had much choice to begin with. My elation at her words was all the same, however.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! If this all works out, I’ll take back everything I said about Applejack. A-and the farm!”
“Hang on. What’d ya say about Applejack and the farm?”
“What? Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. I was simply… lost in the moment, that’s all.”
If there are moments in life more humiliating than receiving a dubious glare from a filly less than half your age, I’ve yet to find them. Thankfully, it wasn’t a moment that lasted for long; Apple Bloom instead looked back up at her friends. “What do you gals think? Wanna help me out with this?”
She may as well have asked them if they wanted to take a bath in acid considering their less-than-considerate reactions. Scootaloo in particular twisted her face out of disgust. “No way! I’ve got better things to do than help you chase rats.”
“Like what?”
“Like… you know… stuff!”
“Oh, don’t worry about them, Apple Bloom,” I said, properly calm once again. “Who knows, if you are as skilled at this as you say, you may even earn your cutie mark in pest control.” I giggled at my little joke. I did enjoy my little jokes from time to time, even if others didn’t. This was hardly different.
“Wait, she will?” Scootaloo asked, almost to herself than any of us. “Shoot, she will! I forgot about that!”
I could only raise a slightly perturbed eyebrow at the young pegasus’ sudden outburst. “Is there something wrong, Scootaloo?”
“Huh? N-no, it’s just that…”
“We sort of had an agreement amongst the Crusaders,” Sweetie Belle said. “If there’s a chance that doing something will earn us a cutie mark, we all have to do it.”
“Yeah!” Scootaloo chirped. “We’re, uh… What’s it called? Contractually obliged! Yeah, that’s it!”
See, this was exactly why I refused to understand what ran through these fillies’ heads. As though it weren’t hard enough to understand why they went through with their reckless stunts in the first place, now contracts were thrown into the fray. I didn’t even know that they knew what a contract was! “When in Equestria did you sign a contract?”
“Well, we didn’t really sign it on paper,” Sweetie admitted. “It’s just something that we agreed on. We even Pinkie Promised.” Yes, they even Pinkie Promised. And as we all know, there is little one can do once they commit themselves to that. I, myself, cannot deny that. One cannot simply break a Pinkie Promise. She just… knows.
“So… all three of you are going to help me with this? Even you, Sweetie?”
Sweetie shrugged. “I Pinkie Promised, so I have to. Besides, how hard could it be?”
“Oh, you would be wise not to underestimate this creature. Even with the four of us, I predict that it will be a formidable battle of wits.”
“But… it’s just a rat,” Scootaloo so kindly pointed out.
“Not just a rat, Scootaloo. A cunning rat,” I corrected.
All three of them simply rolled their eyes. Oh, the ignorance of children. They would grow to learn the true gravity of this situation soon enough.
“Alright, let’s get this over with. You ready, Scoots?” Apple Bloom asked.
The young pegasus simply shrugged. “I guess. How about you, Sweetie?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
It was odd. As I watched them go through what I assumed were their usual rounds of preparation, I couldn’t help but feel that they didn’t approach it with as much gusto as I expected. I didn’t think much of it, though. They were likely just tired from their previous, little stunt.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders Pest Control… Yay?”
“This is gonna suck,” Scootaloo muttered.
(“Wait, you got all three of them to help you catch a rat?”)
(“Oh, as if you’re any better. Need I remind you of the time you tried to ‘help’ them earn their cutie marks in Library Maintenance?)
(“Th-that was completely different!)
(“How so?”)
(“…Just keep telling the story.”)
(“Actually, I think this might be an excellent point to take a break. All of this talking has not been polite to my throat.”)
(“Wait, what? But I thought that this was traumatizing to you.”)
(“Oh, it was. Absolutely. That’s still no reason why we can’t recount it over a nice cup of tea. You wouldn’t mind some, would you, dear?”)
(“I… B-but I thought… You were… I-I… Just… Just water’s fine, thanks.”)
Author's Note
This, my friends, is the result of spending countless hours watching Tom & Jerry from age five. And you know what? I don't regret a single second of it.
