Radio Baltimare

I felt something wiggled around. I slowly fluttered my eyes open, Coco had crawled down from the couch and had laid her head across my arm.I let out a soft laugh as I realized what had really woken me up. A loud scratching at my front door was becoming painfully apparent.

I set the mare back on the couch and went to the front door. I threw it open, a cat I've been feeding walked in. "Toki, morning..." I talked to the cat as I started looking for a can of cat food. Toki snaked between my legs as I set the can of food onto the floor. I finished with him and tried to relax.

I pressed my back against the counter and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "You have a cat?" a sweet voice caught me while I was rubbing my eyes.

"Uh...kinda, he's not mine but he keeps coming around." I stretched out and rolled my neck. "Sleep well?"

Coco looked back the the makeshift bedding on the floor. "Yeah...I mean...yes...." she smiled wide, her face growing only slightly red as she walked over to the cat. She started baby talking to the cat. I left her to her fun and went to check on the last pony in the house. I walked over to my room and found it a bit ransacked. Pressed was nowhere to be seen.

I let out a sigh as I got dressed. I picked a decent pair of light grey slacks and a white shirt. I started gathering my things for the day and walked back into the kitchen. "Coco...Coco?" I walked over and picked up Toki. Coco quickly straightened out and nearly slammed into a wall.

"Sorry what?"

I pointed to the door. "Time to get going. Gotta get to the studio or they'll dock my pay...again." I carried Toki down the steps of my house and tossing him into a bush.

"Aww! Don't just throw him like that!" Coco charged down the steps and tired to push me, only managing to make me lose my balance for a moment. "That was so mean."

I watched Toki walk out of the bush. "Cats are amazingly resilient to bushes, he's fine." Coco turned her head and watched as Toki walked into the neighboring yard. "See."

Coco frowned and sat down. "I still don't like it."

I walked past her, pulling her hair clip away as I went back to lock my door. I pocketed the clip and locked my door. After a quick walk down the steps for a final time, I started off with the mare. "Hair clip." I tucked the accessory into her bag.

She gave me a conflicted look. "Why'd you take it off?"

"Uhhh...you look better without it?" I said, not caring about the possible consequences, my experiences with calling ponies cute or something along those lines earned you one of two things, a friend, or a night in bed. Either that or a solid punch in the face.

.

"Oh...thank you." well at least it wasn't a punch, or kick. I never gave it much thought.

I pressed on and hurried towards the studio. Coco adopted a decent pace, trotting along like the mares I see jogging past everyday. "Hey Coco...you jog?"

She look at me with a slight smile. "A little, just for fun though."

"I can tell. It's the way you walk, kinda...jaunty? Something like that."

She smiled and turned away. The rest of the walk into the studio was quiet. We pushed into the doors as one of my few friends was reading sports. "...Canterlot's finest lost once again to the Appleloosan Reds."

"Damn it!" I yelled loudly as I lead Coco up the stairs. "There goes fifty bits."

Coco just frowned as I lead her to the producers office. I was about to knock on her door when it flung open, hitting my in the cheek. "Mother-" I crumbled, holding my cheek and trying to stop the pain.

"Oh Frank, you're here. Perfect." the producer kept talking like a maniac as I go to my feet. "Wayne copped out on me, I need someone to do the interview while we get ready for the fashion- oh hey you're here too! Awesome.... So anyways, get in the booth."

I leaned against the wall as I caught up with her speech. "Wait wait wait- what do you- ow- mean copped out?"

"He was getting uppity yesterday so I sent him home, now he's not here!"

I shook my head hard and rubbed my cheek. "Do you ever talk to your employees? It might help."

The producer shook her carrot colored mane. "Look Bill, I don't have time for your mystical nonsense. Just get in the booth and host the interview. It's all written out, just don't be a complete doofus." she patted her hoof on my leg. "Now you," she turned to Coco. "Let's get you ready with Pressed." she dragged her off down the hall.

I stayed in the hall, contemplating what exactly this meant. I was either being trusted with something amazing, or they didn't give a crap, and with her it was impossible to tell the difference.

I decided it was best to just find out. I was ready to find a new job if this didn't work out.

I hurried to the last floor and met a pony at the door of the booth. "Ethan, great. Here put this on." my old boss, a mare that ran most of the sound in the booth, handed me a large headset. I pulled the headset on and checked the connection. "Chan-"

"I got it Wave, I've done it enough times before." I switched it to the proper channels and tested it. "One one, one two."

A women popped her head out of the tech booth and gave a thumbs up. Wave gave a determined nod and handed me a piece of paper. "Give that a quick read and get in there, you got this!"

I looked the paper over and moved into the booth. I found a seat near the far wall and started reading.

This was an interview with an Afghan war vet! They were trusting me to conduct an interview with a veteran, and a non-American veteran at that!

My heart started racing as I read the interview. This wasn't just a veteran, this was the second man in Equestria! A voice broke my concentration, making me jump in my chair. "He's coming."

I tried to calm down as the door swung open. A brutish looking man with grey hair walked in, quickly taking the seat across from me. "Hello...." he boomed, his voice capable of knocking down a brick wall.

"Alright, everything ready? On in three...two...one!"

I paused for a horrifying moment before reading the note. "Hello ladies and- gentlemen, mares and stallions. Today we have a very special guest, Sergent Dima Turov."

Dima leaned back in the chair. "Hello."

I looked back at the paper. "Now Dima, it says here that you've proposed the establishment of a new quarter in Canterlot. One to accommodate the large influx of Russian immigrants. Can I ask why?"

Dima leaned back in his chair. "When I hear about this land, I hear of land of peace, land of freedom. I have been through hell my entire life. When I hear the prospect of a land free of the turmoil that has racked my country, I would have been a fool to decline."

"I understand that but what you're proposing is a full square mile dedicated to the recent arrivals."

Dima leaned forward in his chair. "I ask for only what is necessary. Many from my home come to seek peace. We are not asking to be separated or left alone, we only wish to know that when we arrive that we will be accommodated." Dima adjusted his headset. "I have spoken with the Royals and arranged for many Russian veterans to immigrate, those who have served their countries only to be left to the dogs!"

"Your project would cost an in-"

"Damn the money! The men who have accepted the invitation have been through too much to worry about money! Many from the wars are still able, willing to work, and tired of the constant disrespect from the youth! I will build the district myself, with my two bare hands if it is required!"

My mouth went dry as he spoke. "How many are coming?"

Dima let out a long breath. "Over three hundred including families. Many are Chechen war veterans, but all have served Russia in one way or another. We are not asking for charity, we are asking for hospitality."

I nodded a few times. "But this is all temporary?"

Dima calmly leaned back. "As I have said, we are looking for hospitality. In time we will disperse, find our places, build lives away from one another, but these things take time. We simply need a starting point, that is what I ask for, that is what we need."

"Thank you Sergent Turov. Any parting words?"

Dima shook his head. "Even if our proposal is denied, we will find a way."

I swallowed hard. "Ladies and gentlemen, mares and stallions, this has been Sergent Dima Turov. Stay tuned."

A loud bell rang out. "Clear!"

I let out a long breath as I stood up. I feel woozy as I walked towards the door. "Eh...where are you going?" Dima grabbed my shoulder. He spun me around and stuck his hand out, nearly punching me in the gut. "I thank you for play...how you say, devil's advocate?"

I met his hand, his grip nearly breaking my fingers as he gave a single shake. "Sure...any time."

"Greg!" the producer charged in. "I swear I give you one thing to do and you do it! Good job." her tone was nearly schizophrenic, going from angry to happy in moments. "I mean, it wasn't great. You don't want to say, it says here, but you did good for your first time."

I stared angrily at her. "My name...is not...Greg."

"Really!? You should have said something, Phil." I shook my head. "Terry?" again no, "James? Okay then fine, you tell me!"

I grabbed the producer and started shaking her. "My name's Ethan, Ethan M. Arroyo! It's very simple."

"Who there buddy, calm down. Fine, Ethan Ethan Ethan. There, you're Ethan now." she wiggled out of my grip. "Now come with me, we need to draw up a contract."

She dragged me out of the booth as Coco and Pressed were getting seated. Something felt wrong, why were they the only two going in there?

I found myself sat across from the producer as she slid a piece of paper to me. "Just sign there, there, and there." she jabbed her hoof on the paper. "Good...good." she tore the paper away from me. "Starting, thirty thousand bits a year okay? Naw you did good...and I like your mustache. Forty thousand."

I rubbed my upper lip. I think my poor shaving habits just earned me an extra ten grand a year.

The producer smiled wide. "Great, now on to other business. Be at Copperhead's at nine on Friday. Wear something nice."

"Wait what-"

"My name's Marigold and I'm looking forward to the date.Now get out...." her voice deadpanned at the end. I just sat there stunned. Marigold jumped off her chair and started pushing, not just me, but the entire chair I was sitting in into the hall. "Remember, Copperhead's at nine on Friday. Thanks...byeeee...." she slowly wiggled her way back into her office.

I just leaned back in the chair and tried to collect myself. "I...what? I don't...how did she do that?" I stood up and started walking to the break room. "How the fuck did she do that?"

I was caught half way there. Marigold's voice snapping me back to her strange little world. "By the way, that mare from before is gonna need a place to stay again, that okay with you? Great, thanks Paul."

I broke, something in my brain shattered. I walked slowly towards her office. I walked in, found a crystal paperweight, opened the nearest window, and chucked it into the street. I turned to Marigold, her face one of utter confusion. "My name...is...Ethan."

"Fine geez, sorry Leo-" I leaned in and stared her down. "Whoa...okay...okay...Ethan.... Save it for the bedroom."

If ever a time the sound of a guitar string breaking was appropriate it was now. "I'm not going on a date with you, we're never going to have sex, you're insane."

She started laughing. "Yes you are, probably not, and yes I am. Just show up okay I promise you it'll be worth it."

"Why, why should I trust someone that can't even learn my name!?"

Marigold went behind her desk, slamming the tabletop and staring at me. "Ethan, I like your mustache. Now show up, dress well, and get ready for a good night."

I contemplated jumping out the window. I tired to make a rebuttal, but anything I could have said would have been immediatly ruined. I walked out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the studio. Three hour work days were the best days.

I sat at home watching TV. Some terrible pony version of wipe-out. I watched as some overweight mare got knocked into the mud. "Ohhh...she should not be wearing those tights."

A knock came from my front door. I left my stupid show and answered it. Coco was standing with a worried look on her face. "She said-"

I held the door open. "I know." she watched the floor and stepped inside. "So how was it?"

Coco walked in and sat in the middle of the floor. "She said I work there now."

"What!?" I jumped upright and ran over. "Seriously!?"

She nodded with a worried grimace on her face. "Pressed was mad, but then she said something about bits, and said it was fine. She said. Oh I love your voice, ponies will love you! Then she asked me out...."

I realized then and there what she was planning, or at least part of it. I decided to play her little game and feigned ignorance. "Well...you do have the voice for radio."

She frowned hard. "But I like sewing...."

I thought about it. "There's a fabric store in town. I'll take you some time."

She shook her head. "It's not the same...but thanks. It does sound fun...."

I shrugged. "Don't worry about it now." I looked over to the TV. "I'm sure things will work out...maybe...probably." I scooped her up and plopped her on carried her into my room. I plopped her down onto the bed and gave her the remote. "Channel seven."

She fumbled with the remote but eventually got it turned on. I was immediately exposed to a horribly caddy show where mares and fem stallions argued about dresses. Coco seemed either appalled or rapt, so I simply walked out.

I plopped down on the sofa and spent the rest of the night watching stupid shows.