Ernest Saves Equestria

by Emerald Harp

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Other, Discord, Crossover, Human, Main 6
Length: 76127

Three visitors unknowingly blunder into Equestria. A troll flees the world of man to fulfill his heinous ambition in the land of ponies. The second is a beagle who would follow his master anywhere. And the last visitor is the juggernaut of Earth.

Three visitors unknowingly blunder into Equestria. A troll flees the world of man to fulfill his heinous ambition in the land of ponies. The second is a beagle who would follow his master anywhere. And the last visitor is the seemingly unstoppable juggernaut of Earth. Some call him the Great Red Neck Hope. Others call him a garbage man. He has many titles: fool, idiot, hero, and savior. It is this last title by which the Equestrians will call him; for he alone can stop the scourge of Rotnart, the greatest of Trantor’s spawn.

This story takes place right after the events of the movie, “Ernest Scared Stupid.” No knowledge of Ernest is required to enjoy this story, but it is highly recommended by the authors that you watch this incredible movie.

Published 2014-02-08 21:00:04 UTC
Last updated 2024-11-27 04:09:56 UTC

Troll Safari

“Alright, Rimshot,” Ernest said excitedly. “We only got a few more trolls left to kill. Then we can go home and dine on a sumptuous dish of prune juice and chocolate. How does that sound?”

Rimshot gave a disapproving whimper as he scurried beside Ernest.

The Great Redneck Hope frowned down at his dog. “Now what’s wrong with that? They taste great together.” Then a light bulb came on in his head. “Oh, right. Last time I fed you that we had to put in fresh carpet, new wall paper, repaint the ceiling . . . How about a biscuit for you instead?”

This seemed to placate the dog, and he gave a happy bark. Ernest smiled down at Rimshot, “That’s the spirit, boy. It’s good to have ya back.”

Ernest strolled around the oak tree that was literally the root of all the troll problems. As he walked at a leisurely pace, he sang “What is Love,” a tune that was also perfect for exterminating trolls. Ernest bobbed his head rhythmically to the music that came from the radio in his truck. He rounded the tree and used his Super Soaker to shoot an extremely fat troll in the face with a stream of milk. The spawn of Trantor convulsed and dissolved into a stinking pile of goo and bone.

Ernest stopped singing and asked his dog, “How many does that make tonight, boy? I lost count.”

The beagle barked and scratched the ground a few times.

“That sounds about right,” Ernest said smugly. “After all, I am Ernest P. Worrell, the Troll Slayer of Briarville, Missouri.”

As he said this, another pod from the oak tree hit the ground a few feet away from him. Ernest rolled his eyes and sighed as the pod sank deep into the ground. “I wish those dang brussel sprouts would stop falling from great-grandpappy’s tree. I haven’t gotten to go trick-or-treating tonight, and I am starving.”

The former sanitation engineer pretended he was a graceful ballerina as he made his way over to where the pod had fallen. He hummed along with the radio all the while as he clumsily pirouetted. A shrieking troll erupted from the earth where the pod had sunk into the dirt. The stinking troll wielded two massive wood-splitting mauls like they were children’s toys and roared a battle cry.

Unimpressed, Ernest stopped humming and said to the monster, “Yeah, yeah, quit your yelling. I got your lunch right here, Squid Lips.”

He was about to shoot the hulking troll, but someone else had beat him to it. Behind the dissolving beast was a twelve-year-old girl with a carton of milk.

In a winey voice Ernest said, “Aw, you stole my kill, Elizabeth. I need every kill I can get if I’m going to beat Kenny’s score.”

Elizabeth shrugged and said, “Sorry Ernest, but I wanted to get one for myself before they were all gone. Being a wooden doll wasn’t fun.”

Ernest nodded. “The most delectable revenge, is fresh troll served dead with a glass of milk on the side, ya know what I mean?”

Elizabeth grinned. “I think I do. By the way, Ernest, who sings that tune you were performing earlier?”

“Haddaway. Why?”

“Let’s keep it that way, okay?” Elizabeth replied gently.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the massacre went on around the oak tree, Rotnart, a lone troll was fumbling and cursing at a large hide-bound book. For the past twenty minutes he had tried to decipher the scrawl on the pages but could not for the life of him figure out which way was up on the ancient tome. From what little Rotnart could understand, it was a spell to get him away from here, and right now that was exactly what he needed. Unfortunately, most of it was in some sort of old demonic language that he didn’t quite understand. Rotnart was starting to get scared because the noise of battle from the oak tree had become suddenly quiet.

Panicking, the four-foot troll finally said, “#&%@ this paper. I need to go!”

The ugly beast in frustration tore the page in half, and to his utter surprise, a grey swirling vortex opened in front of him. The doorway’s manifestation flung the newborn troll backwards with the force of a gale. Rotnart somersaulted in the air and landed painfully on his face. He spat out dirt, and still swearing, the monster got to his feet and gazed in wonder at the new door. The troll’s beady eyes grew as wide as dinner plates as he wiped a large handful of snot from his face. Rotnart grinned to himself and marveled at his apparent cleverness. Only a troll as cunning as he would have been able to create a portal by ripping up spells instead of casting them.

Before the genius troll stepped through the new doorway, he felt a sinking feeling in his gut. Or maybe that was gas. He wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, he had no clue where this portal would take him. Hopefully, it would be a new place without that thrice-damned milk the humans were so fond of. The tall, ugly freaks had just gotten lucky when they found out that the white substance was so incredibly deadly to trolls. Rotnart reasoned that he wasn’t really running away; he would be back. This was just a tactical withdrawal to . . . somewhere else.

Rotnart knew that wherever he went, he would rebuild the troll nation. Of course, he would do it better than his father, Trantor Double Nose. After all, Rotnart had been one of the first to drop from the tree and thus had inherited all of Trantor’s cunning and ruthlessness. Rotnart’s brothers and sisters who dropped after him were about as wise and cunning as domestic turkeys sniffing markers in a thunderstorm.

Rotnart had also inherited a great mistrust of authority. Instead of attacking the humans right off the bat like his father had ordered, he had slipped inside the oak tree and stole his dad’s bug out bag. Rotnart then got the heck out of there, just before the Great Red Neck Hope and his kind showed up. If his father were still around, he probably would be cursing Rotnart’s name right now. Oh well. That beats the hell out of dying by milk or being kissed. Rotnart shuddered at that thought as he made sure that he had everything for his journey. The bag he carried contained his father’s spell book, short sword, and three pods that had landed inside the tree and not on the ground. Rotnart nodded in satisfaction, and before the troll stepped forward into the portal, he turned around and flipped the bird to the humans with both hands, then disappeared.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
As the last of the trolls were put down, Ernest asked Old Lady Hackmore, “Is that all of them, ma’am?”

The witch closed her eyes and concentrated. “There is one left that carries the blood of Trantor in his veins and smells like burnt skunk.”

She and Ernest sniffed the air to pinpoint the source of the stench. Ernest smelled his armpits.

Old Lady Hackmore pointed into the night and yelled, “He’s over there!”

At that moment a huge portal opened where Hackmore was pointing. Standing in front of the shimmering doorway of light was a single squat being with a bag slung over his shoulder. Ernest’s blood boiled as he saw the troll raise his middle fingers in salute before vanishing into the light. He tried to cover Rimshot’s eyes, but it was too late. The dog had seen it and could never unsee it.

In a fit of rage, Ernest pointed at the portal and declared, “You can’t just do that in front of my dog and get away with it! You, sir, are getting a big fat kiss from me! So, pucker up, Crater Face, and get ready to die!”

Then he changed his demeanor and said in a Scottish accent to the old woman, “Stay here, me lady, and tell the rest of the lads and lassies that Troll Fighter One is going on a bloody Safari.”

Ernest and Rimshot took off back to his truck. Before he could chase after the errant troll, Old Lady Hackmore opened the passenger-side door.

She placed a book on the floor boards. “This will help you on your quest, Worrell. I don’t know where that Troll has gone, but you must destroy him. No one is safe until you do.”

Ernest tipped his hat to the witch and said in a western accent, “Much obliged, senoriter. Now close the door. I got a trail to blaze into the heart of destiny . . . and a troll to mess up.”

As soon as the witch closed the door, Ernest drove the Chevy pickup straight into the portal at full speed and disappeared.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

From the other side of the portal, things were not going as planned.

“Close! Damn you! Close! Aw &%^# me!” Rotnart screamed.

But no matter how much he pleaded and yelled at the magical doorway, it would not shut. Those stupid humans would find his portal any minute now. He just had to close it. Then an idea came to the troll. Still standing in front of the portal, he quickly dug his father’s spell book from the bag and hysterically tried to find something about how to close a stubborn portal in the book’s index. Mercifully the index was in troll and not demonic. “Where, the hell is it? Doors, gateways . . . Ah, here we go, portals.”

Hearing something coming from the other side of the portal, Rotnart slowly looked up from the book. It was a loud rumbling noise that was drawing closer and closer. It was too loud to be a human, so allowing his curiosity to get the better of him, he stuck his head through the gateway. What the young troll saw caused his heart to stop beating.

“Oh, SH--!"

He was abruptly cut off as a speeding half-ton truck slammed into him. Inside the cab of the vehicle, it felt like Ernest and Rimshot had run over the world’s largest speed bump as they were jostled around inside. “I think we found the troll, Rimshot . . . Either that or it was the ugliest two-legged deer I’ve ever seen.”

Meanwhile the troll lay still for a few seconds on his back. Somehow he had managed to hang on to his precious bag and the spell book.

Rising to a sitting position he said, “Well, at least that cleared my sinuses.”

He got painfully back to his feet. The truck had disappeared over a nearby hill and from the sound of it, was coming back to check on him.

Quickly looking around at his new environment, the troll realized that he was in a clearing with a forest surrounding him. Rotnart scowled angrily. The blasted gate had finally closed after letting Worrell and his machine through. Thinking quickly, he placed a pod that contained one of his siblings on the ground and took off into the dark trees, running blindly into the night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the truck reversed at the top of the hill, Ernest was elated. “We got him, Rimshot! We got the last of the ugly, stupid, fat, hairy, snot-nosed . . . What are you looking at?”

Rimshot was staring into the passenger-side rearview mirror. Curious, Ernest looked into the mirror and saw the troll illuminated in his brake lights. It had survived being hit by the truck and was walking slowly towards the vehicle. “Aw, rats! You gotta admit, boy, these stunties are tough. Keep the engine warm. I’ve a troll to plant six feet under.”

Ernest grabbed his Super Soaker and exited the truck. He walked around to the tail-end of his vehicle and waited for the troll to get closer. As the troll approached, Ernest noticed that the beast had a loaded crossbow cradled between his snot-encrusted hands.

When the troll was twenty feet away, the beast stopped, pointed the weapon at the ground, and glared at Ernest. In reply, having a great flare for the dramatic, Ernest narrowed his eyes and nodded in understanding.

“Alright, Hammer Head, your move,” Ernest drawled.

He then stuck his water gun in his pocket, his right hand hovering above the plastic grip of the deadly milk weapon in anticipation.

For fifteen seconds the combatants stared at each other with mutual loathing. A gust of wind blew a tumble weed from out of nowhere to pass in-between them. Finally, the troll blinked and raised his crossbow to his shoulder with deadly intent. The whole scene seemed to play out in slow motion, as Ernest went for his water gun. As the opponents leveled their weapons and took aim at each other, they fired at the same time.

The stream of milk caught the troll in the throat, causing him to dissolve instantly. The crossbow bolt meanwhile missed Ernest’s left arm by centimeters but struck the left tail light of his truck. The arrow bounced off the red plastic, ricocheted off a tree, glanced off a stone, and hit the back of Ernest’s head.

Ernest staggered under the blow but didn’t fall. He slowly and tenderly placed a hand on the bolt and yanked it out. The head of the crossbow bolt had only pierced his cap. He looked at the blunted head of the arrow, whistled, and said, “I’m glad it hit the hard end.”

The Home of Dr. Seuss

After the brief duel with the troll, Ernest realized two things. The portal that he and Rimshot had driven through was gone, and his truck had stopped running during the fight.

“Hey, Rimshot, why’d you let the truck die? I thought I told you to keep it running,” Ernest accused.

Rimshot leaned out the driver’s side window, gave an anxious bark, and then laid his paw over his nose. Ernest’s eyes widened, “Is that right?”

After getting a flashlight from the truck, Troll Fighter One walked around to the front of the Chevy and saw a deep troll-sized dent on the front of his vehicle. “Whoa, it’s like he put his face in wet cement . . . except it’s my truck!” he exclaimed. “Pop the hood, Rimshot.
Let’s see what kind of damage Hammer Head did.”

Rimshot engaged the hood release, and Ernest tugged and heaved on the hood of the Chevy until his arms ached. He looked down to see what was wrong.

“Oh, I forgot. I gotta hold the lever down and then pull,” Ernest said to himself.

The hood came flying upward, along with several small blue jays, a mother raccoon with babies clinging, and a cloud of insects. Ernest cried out in panic and fell backward to the ground. When the ruckus had died down, he cautiously poked his head into the motor compartment and saw an empty bird’s nest and a host of mud dauber habitats all over the engine of the truck.

Ernest chuckled nervously to himself, “Eh-heh-heh-heh, I guess it’s been a little while since I’ve been under here.”

From inside the truck cab, Rimshot heard his master say, “Well, there’s the problem right there. The battery terminals are loose.”
Ernest wiggled the metal pieces, “. . . There we go; now I’d better check the battery. Since I don’t have a tester, I’ll just gently stick this metal rod in-between here and . . . WAHHHHHH!!”

Rimshot heard the familiar sound of his master being electrocuted, and for a brief moment, the truck started and then immediately died after a loud bang. A few seconds later, Ernest closed the hood of the Chevy. He leaned heavily on the driver’s-side door. Miraculously, he was unharmed except half his face was drooping down to one side.

He spoke in a slow, slurred, sad voice, “Well, boy, I fixed the battery, but I think I blew up the starter and . . . some other stuff doing it. We’re going to have to abandon ship. Besides, we can’t drive out of here anyways.”

The beagle hopped out through the truck window and joined his master outside. Ernest’s face and speech returned to its normal stretchiness, but his heart hurt for the loss of his Chevy.

The garbage man knelt down, petted Rimshot, and said, “Before we head back, I’d like to say a few words to our proud battle wagon.”

He then tried to take his cap off his head but found that it wouldn’t budge. It had been years since he had removed his head wear. Ernest’s scalp and hair had woven itself around the fibers of the hat. After several very painful attempts of trying to remove his cap, Ernest finally gave up. The sad warrior put his hand over his heart and bowed his head. Rimshot did the same . . . except in a very doglike manner.

“Well, old buddy, I appreciate all you did for us,” Ernest said thickly to his truck. “And I’m sorry I treated you so roughly, but it was tough love. That’s why you’re so strong and dependable. When I get back to town, I’ll send a tow truck for ya, and we’ll get you back on your wheels in no time. Me and Rimshot gotta leave ya now, but we will come back for you, I promise. Troll Fighter One never leaves a friend behind . . . at least not for long, you know what I mean?”

After Ernest said that, he placed a hand on the Chevy and started to cry. Rimshot affectionately nuzzled his leg and whimpered in sympathy.

“No, I’m not crying boy,” Ernest explained, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Tears were streaming down his face and dripping onto the ground. “I just got an eye full of battery acid, and it’s irritating my allergies. That’s all.”

Ernest then took a deep breath and reverently opened the door to the Chevy. He took the book Old Lady Hackmore had given him and other supplies and gathered them into an old gunny sack.

After saluting his fallen Chevy, Ernest said to Rimshot, “Well, boy, I guess we better double back the way we came. Judging from the trees and my exquisite sense of direction, I think we’re still in Missouri. Yes, sir, those are some good old-fashioned Missouri ash trees . . . or are they maple? Anyways, the neat thing about our state is that you are never far away from the next town, you know what I mean?”

Rimshot gave a yip of agreement, and side by side, man and dog left the truck.

As Ernest and Rimshot made their way through the woods, the Troll Slayer became nervous. A wind began to howl through the black unfriendly looking trees; wherever Ernest beamed his flashlight, he saw sinister looking shapes.

He gave a worried chuckle, “Eh-heh-heh-heh, nothing to be scared of, boy. It’s just our imaginations playing tricks on us. I’m not scared, and you shouldn’t be either.”

Suddenly he heard a loud growl from behind him that caused his mouth to go dry. He also felt moistness on the back of his neck and smelled a foul odor on the breeze.

“Rimshot?” Ernest asked worriedly, “is that you?”

Rimshot had managed to climb up Ernest and was hiding inside his shirt. As Troll Fighter One slowly turned around to face what had made the noise, he fought a strong desire to urinate. Right behind him stood a huge grizzly bear, standing on its hind legs.

Too scared to move, Ernest said quickly, “Wow, Smokey. You look different without your cute little shovel and pants.”

In reply the bear roared in Ernest’s face, and Ernest screamed right back at him for a good fifteen seconds.

The cap that had been stuck for years was blown off Ernest’s head. While the bear and man screamed at each other, the beagle scurried away and rummaged inside the gunny sack. Rimshot produced a half-eaten tuna sandwich that had been in the Chevy’s glove box for weeks. Rimshot picked up the sandwich between his teeth and placed it in front of the roaring bear. The grizzly stopped roaring and greedily wolfed down the morsel in one bite. Ernest knew a good idea when he saw one, so he slowly upended the gunny sack and gave what was left of their food supplies to the bear.

“Eat up, big fella. You don’t want to eat us. We got worms and gingivitis,” Ernest said.

Rimshot gave a bark of indignation at this.

“Oh, alright. I got worms and gingivitis,” he admitted. “How was I supposed to know Vern put . . . that stuff in my sandwich? I’m sure he was just kidding around.”

After chowing down on moldy bread, ham, and cheese, the bear stopped growling and came right up to Ernest. Surprisingly, the grizzly enveloped him in a rib-crushing bear hug.

Ernest hugged him back. “Ow, oww! I love you to big fella. Oof!”

When the bear let him go, the sanitation worker collapsed to the ground and moaned, “Rimshot, ask him for directions on how to get back to Briarville.”

After a series of yips and barks the bear gave a quiet roar in reply and started to plod its way through the brush, in the same direction Rimshot and Ernest were heading.

When the man and dog followed the bear through the woods, they happened across a well-lit tree house, which was literally a house built into the tree, complete with doors and windows. The tree itself was wide and thick, yet small in height. The outside was decorated with what looked like tribal masks and empty glass bottles.

After looking at the strange tree in wonder, Ernest said, “Hmm, well, it’s not exactly Briarville, but it’s better than being out here. Thanks, Smokey, we can take it from here.”

The grizzly nodded his head and disappeared into the forest.

As Ernest and Rimshot cautiously walked up to the weird building, the sanitation engineer remarked, “This must be where Old Lady Hackmore brews her potions.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he said this. “I was starting to get a little worried there, buddy. We can’t be far from home now.”

As Ernest was about to knock on the entrance, he spied a note taped to the door. It read:

To any pony it may concern: Zecora has what you yearn. I have many potions that will cure, but only if your heart is pure. Unfortunately, at home this zebra is not. I am collecting something that can’t be bought. A beautiful flower I must harvest by moon, for what I am gathering is the rare Midnight Bloom. Fear not, my friends I will be back. In one day’s time, I will provide what you lack.

Impressed, Ernest said, “Wow, Rimshot, this is neat. I didn’t know writing like Dr. Seuss was still popular around these parts. But who’s Zecora? And what does ‘Unfortunately, at home this zebra is not’ mean? It must be witches code for what her next meal’s gonna be. I didn’t know you could eat zebra. This has to be Old Lady Hackmore’s cousin or step-sister’s place. Come on, boy, this den belongs to some other creepy lady. Let’s go find the home of our witch.”

After he said that, the beagle whimpered and began to scratch the door hurriedly.

“Well, whose fault is that?” Ernest responded, “Is it number one or two?”

The dog barked twice.

“Why didn’t you use the bathroom before we went through the portal?” Ernest scolded.

Rimshot shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“Fine, I’ll try the door and see if it’s unlocked. But don’t be surprised if this Old Lady Zecora doesn’t have a toilet.”

Surprisingly, the door was unlocked.

As the duo entered the strange structure, Ernest was not surprised to find himself in a witch’s lair. All along the walls were strange looking masks, and on every shelf, cabinet, and cupboard were vials of different colored fluids. In the center of the room, suspended over dried wood, was a large pot.

Ernest pointed to it and said, “Rimshot, come over here! I found the chamber pot, and it looks clean.”

Ernest put the pot on the ground, and as he did so, his stomach suddenly rumbled violently. He belched loudly and said, “You go on ahead. I gotta talk to a man about a horse myself.”

After doing his business outside, Ernest came back in the tree building and looked around the one-roomed structure.

“Well boy, I don’t see a sink in here, so she must clean her own appliances with the potions she makes.”

He was about to say more when one of the masks hanging on the wall got his attention.

“Hey, Rimshot, get a load of this,” Ernest took the mask off the wall for closer examination. “This is neat. Look at all the detail, Rimshot. This mask almost looks like it’s made from real bone, feathers, skin, and . . . and how about we put this back? I’m getting a bad feeling, know what I mean?”

The beagle barked in agreement

Ernest was about to put the mask back where he found it when he saw a cavity in the wall that had been concealed by the mask. Shining the flashlight into the hole, he saw three vials.

“Rimshot, there’s something back here. I’ll just reach on back here and,” his fingers grasped the three bottles, “. . . there we go.”

The vials were different from the ones on the shelves. They were checkered white and blue, with each depicting a red pegasus, unicorn, or a horse on the center of the bottles. According to the labels, they were potions of Pegasus Flight, Unicorn Magic, or Earth Pony Strength.

“Wow, Rimshot, look at these sport drinks I just found. I bet these make you run faster, jump higher, and . . . and . . . all that good stuff. They’re neat and all, but not really what I had in mind for a thirst quencher.”

In response to this, Rimshot hopped up on one of the tables in the large room and began to sniff the bottles. When he got to a bottle that contained a yellow substance, he gave a bark to get his master’s attention.

“Whatcha got there, boy?”

The Troll Slayer walked over to the table and picked up the vial that Rimshot had been sniffing. The label on the bottle read, “Mellow Yellow.”

Ernest grinned at his dog and said, “Good boy, Rimshot, you hit the jackpot. This was exactly what I was looking for. I could use a soda right now.”

Before he uncorked the vial, he added, “Hey, Rimshot, do you want any?”

The beagle shook his head in reply.

“Are you sure? It’s Mellar Yellar after all. Way better than Mountain Dew. I like it cause it goes down smooth and tastes like a tangerine wrapped in a lemon, you know what I mean?” With that he pulled the stopper out of the glass bottle and downed the contents in one gulp.

Ernest smacked his lips together and said, “Not bad, but . . . eeeeehhhhheeeewwwwww.”

Troll Fighter One’s face contorted like he had bitten into the sourest fruit he had ever tasted. His eyes watered then bulged. His lips puckered, and his skin turned a bright shade of yellow.

Ernest clung to the table, took a deep breath, and said wheezily, “Man, Rimshot, that soda has gone south in a big way.”

The garbage man got back on his feet, turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, and said dizzily, “Whoa, Rimshot, check out this room. It’s like it has several faces all lookin at ya at once.” He then began to chuckle and say, “I think they like us, boy. Oh, wait. Hold on. The faces are talking to me. I’d better listen and see what they want.”

Ernest then collapsed face first in the middle of the floor and began to snore loudly. Half an hour later, he awoke to Rimshot licking his face in concern. He opened his eyes and said wearily, “The, uh, faces, yeah the faces. They say we need to get back to the truck and, uh, fix it. . . Gosh, I sure am hungry.”

Like a man on a mission, Ernest went about the room gathering random odds and ends and dumped them into the chamber pot after he had emptied it of Rimshot’s business. He then took the three “sports drinks” and added them to his gunny sack, which also got thrown into the smelly cauldron. Dazedly he opened his wallet and placed twenty-seven dollars on the table the Mellow Yellow had come from.

“There. I paid for everything. Now let’s get out of here, boy.”

As they exited the tree house with the pot, he saw the note and said groggily, “I should say what we took . . . and I should do it in Dr. Seuss.”

He found a pen in his pocket and scrawled at the bottom of the note:

Dear Zecora,

Thank you for your hospitality. It sure was enjoyed happily. My dog used the pot to do his business in. We shall clean it and return it to you again. I tried on some masks and that was fun. Then I found some sports drinks in a hole. (Sorry, I couldn’t think up a rhyme here. Writing in Seuss sure is hard). Like a good fellow, I drank the Mellow Yellow. I recommend next time you refrigerate your stuff, because one drink of that sure was enough. I took some pieces to fix my truck. Your money’s on the table. Wish me luck.”

Ernest P. Worrell

Chimera is Latin

After nearly an hour of stomping through the woods, Rotnart was exhausted and hungry. He looked over his shoulder for the hundredth time to make sure that he was not being followed. The devious troll was pretty sure no one was tracking him, but when one was dealing with Ernest P. Worrell, one never knew what to expect. Ernest played the part of the fool well, but deep down Rotnart knew that the man was as cunning as a fox--an insane fox that was easily confused, but a fox none the less.

To slake his growing hunger, he ripped off a piece of tree bark and munched on it like it was a piece of jerky. As the ravenous troll chewed the coarse outer skin of the tree, his eyes lit up with delight.

“Wow! This tastes great. I must be in the Big Troll Candy Mountain,” he grinned.

Forgetting the fact that Ernest might still be hunting him, he began to strip the tree of all the bark he could reach and gorged himself until he swelled up like a balloon. His ragged clothes struggled to cover his massive belly. After letting out a very loud and prolonged fart to relieve his stomach, he spied a pair of squirrels watching him with utter disgust.

Not liking the looks the small creatures were giving him, Rotnart ripped off two large pieces of bark from a second tree and began to chase the now terrified creatures.

“Come here, my nutty little friends,” he huffed as he ran. “I won’t harm you. I just want to make a sandwich out of your tiny furry hides.”

It was tough going, running on his short stubby legs with a belly full of bark. The squirrels were quick, but surprisingly the persistent troll was closing the distance. Rotnart made a lunge for the trailing squirrel and enveloped it between two delicious pieces of maple bark. The troll drooled in anticipation.

Wiping his mouth, he laughed, “Yeah, you didn’t think the fat slow troll would be able to catch you. You thought you could just waltz up to me and question my table manners without fear. Well, my scrawny little meat slice, you thought wrong.”

Rotnart opened his mouth wide and slowly inched his sandwich to his jaws, enjoying the moment. Suddenly, he heard a noise to his right. The troll froze; the squirrel meal was practically inside his mouth. Rotnart spat out his hard-won sandwich and watched as the squirrel raced off into the forest. Lucky bastard. Rotnart dove into a nearby rose bush and fought to keep from crying out as he landed painfully in the thorns. And the roses smelled terrible. Their sickly sweet smell really did a number on his allergies. He covered his mucus-filled nose with a massive hand and tried not to breathe in.

Despite his agony, Rotnart kept quiet. The noise was getting closer. It sounded like someone was walking his way, whistling a happy tune. Sweating nervously, the troll silently cursed himself for his love of bark and squirrels. Why did he have to stop to eat so damn much? It was all over. That foxy Worrell had finally found him.

“I know you’re in there,” a calm voice said. “You can’t hide from me. Ask anypony around here. I’m the hide and seek champion.”

From inside the bush, the troll stopped picking thorns out of his butt, and a confused look creased his ugly face. That didn’t sound at all like Worrell. It must be one of his deadly henchkids, armed with a milk gun. The mental image of himself dissolving into a puddle of goo while a smiling child cackled, made him sweat. He shook his head. Maybe the kid was bluffing. Yeah, there was no way that anyone could spot him in his supreme hiding spot.

“I can see you. You know that right? Is it comfortable sitting on rose thorns? I’m just asking, because if that floats your boat, who am I to judge?”

“$&%!” Rotnart swore.

Well, he wouldn’t be just a sitting target. Rotnart squirmed in the bush to reach for his sword but couldn’t. He stretched behind him, attempting to get the spellbook from his pack, but that was out of reach as well. The troll then tried to rise from his awkward position but was stuck fast. His short beard, hair, and clothes were too intertwined with the thorn vines to do anything.

Frustrated beyond words, he threw all caution to the wind, as he ripped his body free of the thorns, pulling with all of his might. He arose from the rose bush with a high pitched scream as he left a large portion of his hair and beard behind. As he yelled, he saw a shadowy being some feet away, watching him with wide yellow eyes.

The bloody troll yelled at the mysterious creature, “You want a piece of me? I’ve defeated the mighty thorn bush! I’ll defeat you too.”

The dark form stepped forward from the shadows of the nearby trees and revealed himself in the moonlight. The being was tall, furry, scaly, and feathery. It looked like a demented god decided to cut and paste a dozen different animal parts together saying, “I did it. I did it. I’ve created the world’s must f(#%ed up creature. I think I’ll call it a chimera. It’s Latin for f(#%ed up creature.”

The strange animal spoke condescendingly, “Aw, there you are, Sweetie Pie.”

Rotnart immediately hated it and wanted the creature dead.

“You are just as cute as a button in your adorable messed up clothes.” The mismatched animal suddenly teleported over to where the troll was standing and began to ruffle his hair. “Where did you come from, little guy?”

In reply, the troll yelled, “Get your filthy hands off of me, you freak! You will not fondle the king of trolls!”

Rotnart tried to push the tall creature away but found that it had disappeared. From above him, Rotnart heard the monster ask, “A king are you? How interesting. So if you’re a king, then what does that make that lanky thing over there in the hat?”

From behind him, the troll heard the familiar laugh of his arch nemesis, “Eh-heh-heh-heh.”

As he slowly turned around, Rotnart’s blood froze in his veins.

Behind him stood Ernest P. Worrell with a maniacal smile on his face. Without saying a word, Ernest drew back his fist and made as if to punch the troll in the face.

Rotnart collapsed in fright and wet himself. He writhed on the ground, expecting any second to feel agonizing pain, because surely Ernest had come prepared with milk. After several moments of screaming for his daddy troll, he felt no pain. The troll cautiously peered through the gaps in-between his fingers to gaze up at Ernest. But Ernest was not there. Instead, he was looking up at the disfigured monster.

“Judging from your calm and collected reaction to this . . .somepony, I take it you are trying to avoid him?” The mismatched monster asked.

Rotnart was too enraged to speak, so instead he tried to cleave the monster in half with his sword. The blade passed right through the chimera; the creature had split itself in two halves before the blade struck. The two halves of the creature reformed into identical copies of one another. Despite loathing the chimera with every fiber of his being, Rotnart was developing a healthy respect for its awesome power. Sensing he was in a predicament he could not win through force, he silently fumed and sheathed his weapon.

“Who and what are you, freak?” Rotnart growled.

Both of the chimeras knelt and bowed their heads before Rotnart and spoke in unison, “Why, the name of your humblest of servants is Discord, oh king of trolls, first and only draconequus of Equestria.”

The troll raised an eyebrow at this and said, “That’s nice. Now make like the wind and &%$@ off before I kill you.” The threat was weakly delivered, and the monster seemed to sense it.

The creature snapped its fingers, and one of its copies disappeared. The remaining Discord raised his head at this and said, “Uh, don’t you mean buck off, your majesty?”

“If it will make you leave, then yes.”

Discord stood up and asked, “What’s the rush, oh nattiest of the nasties? Are you late for a very important date?” Discord then turned into a white rabbit, wearing a black suit frantically gesturing to an oversized pocket watch. In reply, Rotnart threw a nearby rock at the rabbit. The disguised Discord dodged this easily.

Reappearing at the troll’s side in his normal form, Discord said, “I’ll tell ya what. I like you, so let’s play a game. I like to call it Guess Who’s Nosy. Here’s how you play. I ask a question, and then you ask a question. When we touch on a subject that one of us does not want to talk about, we say ‘Guess Who’s Nosy,’ and the pony who said that phrase loses. If you win, I’ll do something nice for you. If I win, you gotta do something for me. What do you say?”

As Rotnart considered Discord’s proposition, the chimera continued, “And don’t worry about the tall lanky creature. The last time I saw him, he and his dog were talking to a grizzly bear, and the bear certainly wasn’t happy. I didn’t really stick around to see what Mr. Bear did to him. Bears typically don’t appreciate strangers. Anyway, I saw you wandering around lost in the woods, eating tree bark and I said to myself, ‘I don’t think he’s from around here.’ Am I right?”

The troll breathed a sigh of relief, as he took in this new information about Ernest. Hopefully, that human had been eaten by the bear.

“Suppose I don’t want to play your game?” Rotnart asked.

Discord frowned and scratched his chin with a claw thoughtfully. “Well, I guess I’ll have to do my civic duty and report you to the local authorities for being such a spoil sport . . . and for trying to eat squirrels and devouring trees. Which by the way I gotta ask, what does tree bark taste like?”

The king’s eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. “Like your mother. Now ask your damn question.”

Discord beamed at the troll and snapped his fingers. Rotnart suddenly found himself reclining on a comfortable couch. Wearing a pair of eye-glasses, the chimera for his part was in a regular seat dipping a quill pin in a floating ink well. “Alright, first question, my dear,” Discord began. “What’s your name?”

“Rotnart,” the troll replied, pushing himself off the couch angrily.

“Rotnart,” Discord scribbled the name down on his note pad. “First of all . . .”

“Hey, wait a minute,” the troll demanded. “You asked your question. It’s my turn.”

Discord smirked at the troll. “Heh, you catch on quickly, your majesty.” The misshapen animal crossed his legs and leaned back leisurely in his chair. “Very well, shoot.”

The troll stood up and asked, “Where’s the nearest town?”

Lazily, Discord pointed a clawed thumb behind him and said, “About a mile that way.”

Discord then wiggled a finger beckoningly at the couch Rotnart had vacated. The couch came forward like a dog bounding to meet its master and tripped the troll from behind. The four-foot troll fell backwards onto the cushions.

“Now, where was I?” Discord asked, glancing as his notes, oblivious to the troll’s outrage. “Oh, yes. Rotnart, where did you come from?”

Before the troll answered, Discord interrupted and said, “And let’s be specific and detailed with our answers from now on. I don’t want to be here all night, trying to pry information out of you, and I am sure you feel the same about me, agreed?”

Finally, settling onto the couch for it was quite cushy, Rotnart nodded. He then began to pick lint out of his huge belly button through a fresh whole in his shirt. “I’m from Briarville, Missouri. If you haven’t heard of the place, it is because the town is a $&^% hole.”

Discord scribbled everything the troll had said on his notepad. “Nope, never heard of it. But it must be pretty awful, coming from a place called Misery. Anyway, it’s your turn.”

Before the troll asked his question, he sat up on his elbows and marshaled his thoughts. This took a few minutes.

“Any day now,” Discord sighed.

“Is there an old tree in this forest?” Rotnart finally blurted.

Discord laughed at this and said, “Let me check.” He looked to his left and right and nodded. “Yes. Indeed there is.”

Rotnart yelled, “Let me finish, freak! A tree unlike any other whose roots go deep and span the forest floor. A tree that is very special beyond words. A tree that is powerful. Maybe even magical. You got anything like that here?”

After hearing the question, the smile Discord was wearing disappeared briefly. He took off his glasses and looked at the troll thoughtfully. “Yes, there is. It’s called the Tree of Harmony. It’s a very special tree, full of magic, wonder, love, happiness, and etcetera,” he said, rolling his eyes and sticking out his tongue.

Discord readjusted his glasses, “Well, that changes my next question. Why do you ask?”

Rotnart wiped his nose with the back of his hand before answering. He knew from here on he had to be careful and not give away too much information to this creature. Rotnart had to get to this tree if he was to rebuild the troll kingdom. “My father, Trantor, was imprisoned under an oak tree for two hundred years, give or take.”

“Really!” Discord exclaimed, surprised. “Let me tell you something, that sucks. I’ve had a similar experience happen to me and. . .” he trailed off and shuddered. Clearing his throat, Discord prompted, “Go on.”

Giving the creature a curious look, Rotnart continued, “My father was put there by a man named Phenias Worrell, the great great grand pappy of Ernest P. Worrell, the douche bag that is hopefully being eaten by a bear. I hate that guy. But before Phenias bound him to the tree, Trantor cursed him so that each generation of Worrells that came after him would become stupider and stupider. My dad foresaw that one of Worrell’s descendants would eventually release him.”

At this point, Discord held up his hand and said, “This is all very interesting, but you haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m getting there,” Rotnart snapped back. “Trantor used his magic to enchant the tree and created me, my brothers, and sisters.”

Discord held up a paw to interrupt the troll. “Ah, okay, I see where this is going. Let me guess. You want to take a look at the Tree of Harmony to see if you can do the same thing your dad did?” He began to count on his fingers. “You’re not a true king. You want your own troll army to get rid of Ernest. You want to go home and take the troll throne for yourself.”

Rotnart just stared at Discord, dumbfounded. “Yes, I mean no. I uh, just want to look at the tree and maybe borrow some of its power so I can go home. Can you take me there?”

The chimera tugged at his goatee for a few seconds, considering the trolls request. He suddenly grinned at him and said, “Oh, why not. I’ll take you there, just because you’re so darn cute.”

Discord snapped his fingers, and both creatures disappeared into the night.

Guess Who's Nosy

“Holy $&*!” Rotnart exclaimed as his small eyes feasted on the beautiful tree before him. His jaw dropped and he drooled as he thought about what he could do with such a tree. It was not nearly as big as the oak in Briarville, but the sheer power emanating from the Tree of Harmony was palpable.

Discord smirked at the troll’s reaction and said, “Your vocabulary fascinates me. I have never heard words like yours before in all of my days. I take it that ‘holy $&*!’ means that you approve of my tree?”

Still salivating onto the ground, the enamored troll replied dazedly, “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, freak.”

The chimera sighed, and a bucket of ice-cold water materialized in his hands. He then proceeded to throw the water into the troll’s face.

Enraged and soaked, Rotnart drew his sword. He roared, “I’m gonna cut your balls off and feed them to the squirrels. I’ll . . . Why am I wet? Did I just piss myself again?”

“Yes, you did. You took one look at the Tree of Harmony and got all excited.”

“Then, why are you holding that bucket?” Rotnart asked, suspiciously.

Discord snapped his fingers, and the container disappeared. “What bucket?”

By this time, the confused troll’s dilated eyes shrank, and he stopped drooling. Shaking his head and sheathing his sword, he recovered as gracefully as a troll could, which wasn’t graceful at all.

Rotnart wiped his mouth and eyes while trying to sound uninterested, “The tree’s alright; nothing special, but it should serve my purpose.”

“Ri-i-i-ght,” Discord said dryly. Snapping his fingers, the chimera returned to his chair, quill and notepad in hand. “Anyways, back to the game. I believe it’s my turn.” With his tail, Discord signaled to something behind the troll.

Rotnart heard the excited padding of the chimera’s dog-like couch coming from behind. The troll let it get closer before he whirled around, picked it up by its legs, and slammed it into the ground. The furniture shattered into a million pieces.

Discord pouted and said, “Tell me, Rotnart, are your father and all the other trolls as handsome, charming, and mild-mannered as you?”

The troll sat on the ground and began chewing on one of the couch legs. In-between mouthfuls of large splinters he said, “Yeah, my lot is a hearty bunch who will tell you to eat crap and die if you make us mad. I inherited all of my dad’s memories, and I’m totally just like him. Except I’m far more cunning and graceful, and I don’t panic easily.”

Rotnart began to munch on the cushions, “Okay, my turn. What--” Before Rotnart could fully form his question, he began to cough, hack, and sputter uncontrollably.

The chimera raised an eyebrow at the troll’s actions. “Now really, dear Rotnart, how can I answer your question if I can’t understand you? Use your words and enunciate. I’d help you out, but I really liked that couch. It was a gift I stole for myself from Celestia back in the day.”

The panicking troll king ignored Discord after unsuccessfully giving himself the Heimlich maneuver. Frantically, Rotnart rummaged through his pack, tossing his father’s spell book aside and triumphantly dug out a troll pod.

Discord casually teleported over to the book on the grass. “Not to be rude,” he said, indifferently, “but I don’t think eating more is going to help.”

As the chimera was thumbing through the pages, he heard a rumbling sound. To his surprise another troll had manifested itself. It was taller than Rotnart, but just as ugly. By this point, Rotnart had turned a vivid shade of dark purple as he desperately gestured to his younger brother to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him.

The new troll just blinked at his brother. He then punched Rotnart hard in the stomach. Rotnart went down like a sack of potatoes, clutching his gut.

By this point, Discord was back in his seat thumbing through the troll king’s book. Every now and then he glanced up at the fresh chaos unfolding before him while munching popcorn. The mismatched creature winced in mock sympathy for Rotnart. It looked like that blow hurt a lot.

The punch seemed to do the trick as the troll king finally hacked and spat out a huge helping of seat cushion. Taking in a greedy lungful of air, Rotnart got back on his feet and turned to face his brother.

It looked like Rotnart was going to give his sibling a hug in gratitude, but at the last second, he brought up a knee and nailed the younger troll in the groin.

Mercifully, the three minute old troll fainted in agony after writhing on the ground for twenty seconds, all the while Rotnart was gesturing with his hands. “This means I’m choking. And this means give me the Heimlich. Remember that next time, you moron!”

Discord clapped enthusiastically. “My goodness, I have never seen anything like that in quite some time. Not even around Derpy. It was worth bringing you here just to see that.”

Rotnart clutched his gut in pain as he replied, “F*$% you. I’d kill you where ya sat if I could.” Leaving his brother where he lay, Rotnart staggered back to where he had been sitting. “Okay. . .” he stared at Discord. “What are you doing with my book?”

Discord looked at him with big innocent eyes. “I’m just keeping it clean for you, your majesty,” the chimera said as he wiped his buttery hands on the book’s cover. Discord disappeared as he avoided a sudden tackle from Rotnart. The troll spat out a mouthful of popcorn as he looked around for the current bane of his existence.

“I must say, this is an interesting piece of literature.” The voice came from the Tree of Harmony. Sure enough, Discord was sitting on a branch just out of reach of the troll. Smugly, Discord asked, “Do you understand what this book says?”

The question brought the king out of his fantasy of strangling the crazed chimera to death. “What?”

Discord teleported to stand beside the troll. He cracked open the book and showed the troll a random page. “I asked, do you know the language this book is written in?”

“Bend over, and I’ll show you,” Rotnart replied as he made a grab for the book.

Discord simply held the book high above his head, out of Rotnart’s reach. “Okay, okay. Time out.” Discord said, as he placed a claw on the troll’s face. The troll king froze in place, unable to move or speak.

Discord continued, “As much as I like the shenanigans that are going on, the game is suffering in quality. If I give you back your book, I get to ask another question, and we will pick up where we left off until the game ends. Agreed?”

Rotnart just stood there as still as a statue, his arms stretched skywards with a look of utter loathing on his ugly face.

“Oh, right,” Discord snapped his fingers and unfroze the troll king.

Rotnart snatched the book from Discord’s clutches, as the chimera asked again, “So, do you know or understand the language of your book?”

Trying not to display too much of his outrage, the troll replied, “No, I don’t know. And apparently my dad didn’t either. Just guessing, I think it’s a tongue used by demons. ”

Discord took a long look at Rotnart. He then started to giggle. After trying unsuccessfully to stifle his mirth, he began to laugh uncontrollably, rolling around on the ground.

“What’s so funny?” the troll growled.

The chimera stopped laughing and said, “I can’t believe you and your dad don’t understand it. It’s so painfully simple, even Applejack could read it.” Discord then started to laugh even harder than before.

The troll would have tried to kick the mutant while it was down, but something began to appear above him, catching his eye. Small pink clouds began to materialize overhead. They hung just below the uppermost branches of the Tree of Harmony. The longer and harder Discord laughed, the more clouds appeared. Rotnart couldn’t explain it, but he had a bad feeling about the overhead clouds.

Sobering, Discord looked up and said, “I’d better get rid of those. Wouldn’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.”

Waving a hand around, he dismissed most of the clouds save for two. Returning to his feet, the distorted monster materialized a small tea cup and saucer. The cloud above him began to rain. Catching the liquid in his cup, Discord took one gulp and smacked his lips in delight.

Rotnart saw that the liquid was creamy, brown, and frothy, almost like . . . . Rotnart shivered suddenly, although he was not cold at all. And his left eye began to twitch.

Nervously the troll asked, “What’cha drinking freak? I hope it makes you die horribly, whatever it is.”

After a particularly loud and obnoxious slurp, the chimera replied, “Now, now, your majesty. It’s my turn to ask a question.” Looking over to where Rotnart’s snoring brother lay, Discord said, “I think I’ll ask him a question instead and put our game on hold for a bit. Is that all right with you?”

Rotnart chuckled uncertainly, “Be my guest. But I think you’ll have better luck talking to a broken clock. At least they’re right twice a day. ”

“We’ll see,” Discord said as he pointed to the other cloud hovering nearby and directed it to a position above the sleeping troll. The cloud then began to rain the same substance upon the head of the slumbering being.

The sleeping troll immediately began to dissolve into a puddle of ooze until nothing was left.

Rotnart’s heart stopped beating, and his eyes became very white and wide with fear. He felt a powerful urge to empty his bladder again. He realized then just how screwed he really was. That thing could make it rain milk and kill him whenever it wanted to.

Discord looked to Rotnart, and back to the puddle that used to be a troll, trying to conjure an answer to what just happened. Finally, the chimera asked in a confused voice, “Uh, Rotnart, what just happened? All I did was make it rain chocolate milk on him, and he melted. Was he a troll snowpony or something?”

The troll king was nearly foaming at the mouth in fright. If something wasn’t done soon, he’d be killed by Discord by accident or for the fun of it. In the span of a few seconds, a desperate plan formed in his panicking mind. Shaking his head and steeling himself, he held out an outstretched hand to the chimera. “Guess who’s nosy?! You win, Discord.”

This got Discord’s attention as he wrenched his gaze from the troll-puddle. “Interesting. You’ve never called me by my name before, and on top of that, you’re quitting the game. Why?”

Sweating profusely, the troll king replied, “I--I don’t have to answer any more questions! We’ve hit on a thing I don’t want to talk about, and now I have to do something for you.” The words came out faster than a woodpecker hammering a tree branch. “Let’s shake on it like the good . . . uh, people we are.”

Discord’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he looked at Rotnart’s outstretched hand. He grinned, “Alright, I accept your defeat. I got just the thing I want you to do for me.” The misshapen being then grasped the troll king’s hand and shook it. To Discord’s surprise, the troll had a very strong grip, so strong, in fact, that he was beginning to lose feeling in his paw.

The chimera was about to comment on this, when to his horror, he found that he couldn’t move, speak, or use his magic. He was frozen, just like what he had done to Rotnart moments before.

Slowly but surely, Discord’s body began to shrink and turn to wood. As this happened, the milk-clouds shrank and disappeared all together. Discord became a one foot tall wooden doll. He lay, tiny and wooden, in Rotnart’s fist, still holding his tea cup full of chocolate milk.

The troll king let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh, thank Trantor this worked. I didn’t want to die by a freaking cloud.”

Rotnart howled with delight. Drunk with victory, he looked at the wooden statue in his hand and said, “I otta burn you and do the world a favor. But maybe I can use you, freak. Maybe there’s still power inside your splintery hide. We’ll have to see about that.”

With that, the victorious troll king put the Discord doll in his bag and gathered the rest of his supplies. Taking a load off his feet, he sat down in the chimera’s overstuffed chair and picked up the notepad. Rotnart leafed through the pages, and to his surprise, Discord hadn’t been taking notes at all. Instead, he found drawing after drawing of a winged unicorn with a sun on its flank in suggestive and lewd positions.

The troll king raised an eyebrow at this and grunted, “Okay, not what I expected.”

He pocketed the notebook and reclined in the comfortable chair.

For a long time Rotnart looked at the Tree of Harmony, admiring it in all its powerful glory. A gust of wind made it look like the tree was trembling in fright. He smiled and said sleepily, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll be gentle.”

In the Bowels of the Troll Mutant Lab

“Run! Rimshot, run!” Ernest awoke with a start, throwing white linen sheets off his body. The dream he had just had was far from pleasant. It had involved running from three giant centaur-like trolls through an endless forest. Each of the trolls wanted to do him harm, especially the white one with a pink and purple mane. That one looked especially mad.

Ernest surveyed his new surroundings. He found himself in a small, plain white room that had the distinct odor of a hospital.

“Eee-hee-ewww,” Ernest’s jaw worked from side to side as he sniffed the air.

He didn’t like the smell of hospitals; that’s one of the reasons he tended to avoid them. After all, hospitals were for other people who got hurt, not for real men like Ernest P. Worrell. Men of steel, men of courage, and men who don’t go to hospitals ‘cause they’re icky and full of people that want to shove sharp needles in you and say that it won’t hurt a bit.

Looking down at himself, he saw that he was dressed in a disgusting puke-green hospital gown. But on the bright side, his skin was no longer the color of a ripe lemon. Ernest shook his head at the hospital’s choice of color as he climbed out of bed. As he did so, throbbing pain in the back of his skull nearly caused him to black out.

“Owww! This hurts worse than going through the business end of my garbage truck, twice.”

He discovered that his head was covered in bandages. “That’s funny. I don’t remember . . . wait a minute.” Reality finally settled in on the human, as his brain recalled what happened to him last night.

“Oh, no! I’ve been captured by the troll-horse mutants!” Ernest exclaimed suddenly. “I’ve got to find that book Old Lady Hackmore gave me; maybe it’s got a section on troll mutants.”

A rough plan began to form in his mind.

He began to count off on his fingers, “Okay, all I got to do is bust out of this room, grab my clothes and the book, sneak out of . . .this troll mutant hide out, find Rimshot, whip up something that kills tiny horse-trolls, find my truck, find a way back to Briarville, and arrive just in time for Vern’s niece’s birthday party.”

Ernest laughed nervously to himself. “Eh-heh-heh-heh, lucky for me I have the element of surprise.”

At that moment the door to the human’s room opened. Ernest recoiled in surprise, tripping over a thankfully empty bedpan.

Two ponies stepped in. One was wearing a doctor’s coat, while the other was wearing a nurse’s uniform. The horse that looked like a doctor told the nurse, “Miss Red Heart, please help Mr. Worrell back into bed. It’s time for his treatment.”

Before the nurse could get to Ernest, the slippery human had already scampered back into bed and slid out the other side, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and the ponies.

“Don’t come any closer you two. I’m friends with the big man upstairs.” The sanitation engineer made a cross with his two index fingers to try and ward off the evil he believed was coming from the ponies. Unfortunately, it had little effect on the four-legged creatures.

“Mr. Worrell, please get back into bed,” Nurse Red Heart said patiently. “You are suffering from a concussion and a Mellow Yellow overdose. You’re probably hallucinating right now.” She tried to get past the bed that Ernest was wheeling around to block her. Meanwhile, the doctor was readying a syringe filled with a bright purple fluid.

Ernest considered this and asked, “So, you’re not talking horses or mutants in hospital uniforms? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because this would make a lot more sense if you’d tell me that, you know what I mean?”

Nurse Red Heart sighed tiredly, “No, we really are real ponies, in a real hospital, wearing real uniforms.”

In reply, Ernest pointed a finger at her defiantly. “Yeah, I just bet you’d like for me to believe that. You troll-mutants brought me here to your secret troll laboratory to dissect me because I kissed your daddy troll and he exploded. Well, my friend, let me tell you something; Old Stunty McSquid Lips had it comin.’ What do you say to that?”

The nurse replied deadpan, “I’d say you’re a few colors short of a rainbow, if you were thinking clearly. Now get in the bed!” the nurse commanded, “or you won’t get any dessert tonight!”

The human’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He had been shouted at before, but this was like being yelled at by his mom. Despite Ernest towering over the pony, the biting command in her voice almost compelled him to obey her. Almost.

Ernest shook his head to clear his mind, which he immediately regretted because it sent new waves of pain and nausea from his head down into the pit of his stomach.

Despite the discomfort, the Troll Fighter continued, “Nice try mutant, but you’re gonna have to use your mind control powers better than that to get the drop on old Ernest.”

While rubbing his eyes in exasperation, the doctor pony put down the syringe and turned around to face the troublesome biped. “We don’t have time for this. Mr. Worrell, if you would please cooperate and let us help you, I will prove to you that we are not mutants, trolls, or whatever else you claim that we are. We’re ponies, but we won’t hurt you. I promise you everything will be explained.”

Ernest’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as he processed the doctor’s words. He relaxed slightly and asked, “Alright, but if you’re not mutants, then how do you know my name? Can you read my brain? Did you suck the information out of me with a thought-sucking vacuum?” Ernest gasped as he asked, “Did you probe me? You probed me, didn’t you?”

The doctor fished out a card from one of the pockets on his white uniform and handed it to Ernest. It was the human’s driver’s license.

“Oh.” Ernest said. He coughed and quickly changed the subject. “You’re lucky I didn’t attack the two of you the second you came through the door. Otherwise I’d put you both in my famous Worrell headlock. It’s where I grab you by the neck, spin you around, and . . .”

Ernest continued talking as nurse Red Heart gently helped him back into bed. She nodded her head every now and then, pretending she was paying attention to the biped’s ramblings.

Then the doctor was by Ernest’s side with the syringe. The human’s lips puckered in terror as he saw the unfriendly device. “Hey, wait a second! You didn’t say anything about a needle. I’m--I’m allergic to needles! Ask my nurse friend at Kamp Kikakee. She hasn’t given me a shot since the last time.”

To Ernest’s shock, he found that he could not rise from the bed. The nurse pony was surprisingly strong for her size as she wordlessly held the human down with seemingly little effort.

The doctor smiled and said, “Relax. This won’t hurt a bit.”

“Yeah, well I don’t see people lining up outside the door to get shot. What does that tell ya?” Ernest replied frantically as his hand gripped something metallic.

To him it felt like a small lever.

Before the doctor pony could inject Ernest with the purple substance, the Troll Fighter gave the lever a hard yank.

The bed tilted upwards and Ernest slid down the improvised ramp, escaping the clutches of nurse Red Heart who was left holding Ernest’s hospital gown.

Coming to a smooth stop on the tiled floor, Ernest got to his feet in a hurry yelling, “WHHAAAAHHH! Cold floor! Cold floor!”

Recovering from the antics of their now nude patient, the doctor and the nurse pursued Ernest out of the room. Looking left and right down the hallway, they didn’t see hide or hair of the tall biped. The nurse took off down one end of the hallway while the doctor raced down the other.

As the two ponies went their separate ways, a door opened a few feet away. Out stepped an old, cranky lady wearing a neck brace, leaning heavily on a walker. “That’s the story of my life. One minute I’m out having a pleasant walk in the woods, the next I’m waking up in a hospital that’s staffed by talking quadrupeds. I must be sure to file a complaint with this establishment’s manager on my way out for hiring such unsanitary creatures.”

Auntie Nelda slowly but surely made her way to the elevator. Right before she pushed the button, the doors opened and several male ponies dressed like hospital orderlies rushed out. The old lady raised an eyebrow as she watched them go. “Typical behavior of the youth these days, not even bothering to hold the doors open for an old lady in need of assistance. I weep for the future of this generation.”

From inside the elevator another old lady’s voice was heard. “Oh them fellars ain’t so bad. I heard a rumor that a six foot tall streaker has done escaped his room on this here level. I reckon that’s why they’re in such a powerful hurry.”

The old lady with the walker poked her head in the elevator and saw an aged, light green pony with an apple pie on her flank holding the door for her.

Auntie Nelda slowly made her way into the elevator. “Is that right? Well, I certainly hope they catch that fellow. Heaven knows there’s enough insanity outside these walls. We don’t need any more in here, especially with these incompetent know-it-all doctors and nurses.”

The other pony laughed, “Heh, heh, Amen sister.” She turned to face the newcomer and offered Auntie Nelda her hoof as the elevator doors closed. “Granny Smith of the Apple Family. Are ya new here? I’ve never seen you at the physical therapy sessions before.”

Auntie Nelda awkwardly tried to shake the old pony’s hoof with her heavily bandaged hand. “It’s a pleasure, my dear. It’s nice to find a fellow citizen who’s been around the proverbial block a time or two and lived to tell about it. I’m Auntie Nelda, and I apologize for all this repulsive gauze. I must look like a mummy’s mummy. I’ve just had a rather unpleasant surgery on my face, as well as some other extremities. Those namby, pamby physicians said I had to stay in bed and relax, but I found sleep hard to come by with all the noise in this bloody place.”

Granny Smith snickered, “Yeah, there’s always some sort of hoot-a-nanny going on here. I hear Pinkie Pie will be entertaining us old folks at dinner time. Then this place will really get to hoppin.’ I don’t blame ya at tall fer wanting to flex yer bones till then. Why today, I had this here hip replaced with one of them fancy, new-fangled magic plastic ones.” She then leaned in close and whispered to Auntie Nelda, “Now don’t tell anypony, but I ain’t really supposed to be up and about neither. If my grand younguns knew about this, they’d rake me over the coals.” She snickered again and said, “I’m sure glad that other pony broke out and gave me this here chance to escape.”

Auntie Nelda nodded her head. “Yes, perhaps he isn’t that ill-natured after all. Just misunderstood, like my son. He’s always getting himself into trouble. I was blessed with two children you see; one good and one bad, and wouldn’t you know it, the good one dies.”

Granny Smith opened her mouth and closed it abruptly, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened on the ground level. Quickly she said, “Oh, will ya look at that? This here is my stop.” As Granny Smith walked out of the elevator, she said to Auntie Nelda, “Well, friend, it was good visitin with ya. But I best be gettin on to the Little Fillies’ room.”

Auntie Nelda waved at her as the pony hobbled out of the elevator. “Tah, tah, Granny Smith, until our next encounter.”

Looking ahead, Auntie Nelda saw that the hospital lobby was packed with noisy ponies. Auntie Nelda grumbled, “It figures that son of mine would dump his poor mother off at an animal shelter to be put down. I at least like to think I have many years of life left in me and do not need to be euthanized just yet.”

As Auntie Nelda slowly made her way to the exit, three ponies stepped through the entrance. One of them was so excited she could hardly contain her enthusiasm. The pony was attracting the attention of everyone in the hospital.

“Pinkie, calm down,” the winged unicorn at her side hissed. “We don’t want to make a scene.”

“Sorry, Twilight, I can’t help it. This is my first time in a long-long-long–long-long while throwing a Pinkie Party here at the hospital, and I want everything to be perfect.” She started to breathe into a paper bag to calm herself down.

“You had a party here last Tuesday,” Twilight replied dryly.

“So long!” Pinkie Pie gasped.

Twilight rolled her eyes, “Focus, Pinkie. We all need to be calm when we meet this creature the Cutie Mark Crusaders ran into last night.” This last sentence was directed more to Twilight’s other companion, a white unicorn with a curled violet mane.

The white unicorn replied in a clipped and proper manner, “Point taken, Twilight. Now let’s get this over with. I want to look this pervert in the eye as I choke him with my own two hooves.”

She stood up on her hind legs and mimed strangling the perpetrator.

Twilight frowned, “Rarity, no! We can’t just jump to conclusions about what happened. We need to hear his side of the story. We don’t have all the facts yet.”

Pinkie Pie chimed in excitedly, “Yeah, Twilight’s right. I mean it’s not as if Sweetie Belle’s experience will scar her for the rest of her life. I’m sure she’ll be just fine.”

Rarity glared at the pink pony. “It most certainly won’t be alright. My sister and her friends were brutally attacked. This monster must pay for its crimes!”

As the three friends and Auntie Nelda crossed paths, Pinkie Pie bumped into the tall old lady leaning on the walker.

“Whoops, sorry, Ma’am.”

“Think nothing of it, dear. I went through the same stages of nicotine withdrawal myself when I decided to quit smoking a few decades ago. I was as jittery and jumpy as a fly in a bug spray factory. It is a long and painful process, but keep at it. You’ll survive,” Auntie Nelda said.

Pinkie Pie blinked and replied, “Uh, thanks? Hey, my name’s Pinkie Pie. You’re new to Ponyville, aren’t you?”

The old lady shook Pinkie’s hoof. “Well, you caught me. I am indeed new . . . Well, I used to be, eighty years ago. I’m Auntie Nelda, and I’m charmed to meet you. Now if you’ll please excuse me, I believe I left my truck running in the parking lot.”

Twilight and Rarity exchanged alarmed glances.

Unperturbed Pinkie Pie continued, “Oh, this is great! You have to come to Sugarcube Corner so we can throw you a proper Ponyville welcome party! By the way, what’s a truck?”

Auntie Nelda raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, I see that the school system in this part of the state hasn’t been doing its job very well. I would stay here and enlighten you about the wonders of modern-day transportation, but alas, my truck is suffering from heat stroke. Now, if you would please step aside, I shall be on my way.”

Not moving, Pinkie asked, “Is a truck a thingy made of metal, standing on four rubbery wheels, and has a whole bunch of random stuff sticking out the front of it?”

“Yes, that sounds like it. That mechanic son of mine claims to have fixed my vehicle by modifying the engine. Frankly, I think the only thing he’s done is make a minor problem ten times worse. He’s got a terrible habit of doing that. I wonder where he is now? He was supposed to pick his poor old mother up from the hospital twenty minutes ago. Instead, he’s probably out hot-rodding or doing whatever else his raging hormones need him to do.”

Pinkie Pie smiled and declared, “I think I know where your truck is.”

“You’re the creature that the Crusaders encountered last night, aren’t you?” Twilight grunted, struggling to hold Rarity back. The white unicorn was livid.

Knowing that the game was up, Auntie Nelda stood upright without aid and said in an annoyed masculine voice, “Oh, well. It was getting pretty hot in this monkey suit anyway, you know what I mean?”

All three ponies stared with their mouths open as they watched Auntie Nelda transform into a man as she removed her bandages and dress. Standing before them was a tall biped in blue jeans, a grey T-shirt, and a denim vest. The human then fished out a hat from his jeans pocket, put it on his bandaged head, and said enthusiastically, “The name’s Ernest P. Worrell, ladies, and it is nice to meet ya.”

As Ernest held out his hand he found himself on the ground underneath the four hooves of the white unicorn with violet hair. The last thing he saw was a hoof slamming into his face.

The Royal Camelot Voice

Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie gave Rarity disapproving glares as she entered Ernest’s room. The fashionista winced. Perhaps she had gone too far by punching the ridiculous cross-dresser in his revolting face. It certainly caused an uproar among the staff and other ponies in the lobby. If not for Twilight intervening, security would have escorted Rarity out of the building. Rarity sighed. No, all that was certainly unbecoming of a lady. She did not have to like this uncouth creature, nor forgive him. But for the sake of her friends, she would tolerate him.

The now calm pony came to the foot of the bed, and glanced at Ernest. Strangely, the human was grinning broadly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The smile made the violet-maned unicorn angry all over again.

“I’m not sorry,” Rarity said to the girls. “I’m not sorry, and furthermore, I’m not apologizing.”

Ernest groaned and mumbled in his sleep, “Hey ,Vern, when did ya get a new neighbor?” Ernest’s grin widened. “She sounds pretty cute. Have ya asked her out yet? I bet she’s as nice as a hot fudge sundae on a summer’s day. You know what I mean?”

Twilight fought not to laugh as Rarity’s cheeks turned bright pink. Pinkie Pie showed no such restraint as she guffawed at the creature’s statement.

“I think he likes you, Rarity,” Pinkie teased as she hopped about the room. “Yep, there’s romance in the air.”

Rarity rounded on the pink earth pony. “What? No! Not in a million years! Especially not after what he did to poor Sweetie Belle!”

“Yeah, that’s a little creepy,” Pinkie admitted. “We’ll have to talk to him about that. Him kissing ponies might not go over well at the party.”

Twilight’s ears perked up. “Party? What Party?”

“The one I’m having for Ernest at Sugar Cube Corner later today. Duh,” Pinkie said, rolling her eyes.

“Uh, Pinkie? I’ve been thinking,” Twilight began.

“Yeah, you always do. That’s why you’re so smart!” Pinkie exclaimed, as she gave Twilight a playful noogie. “What’s on your mind, Smartypants?”

“Maybe it’s not such a good idea to have a party for Ernest,” Twilight answered slowly.

Pinkie Pie gave Twilight a wounded look. “But, that’s what I do for every pony new to Ponyville. It wouldn’t be right if we didn’t have a party for him.”

“But, darling, if what Twilight suspects is true, then this. . .” Rarity paused, tapping her hoof against her chin. “Oh, what’s the word?”

“Human,” Twilight offered.

“Thank you,” Rarity nodded. “This human doesn’t belong here. He’s already attacked my sister and the rest of the Crusaders. Celestia only knows what he’ll do next. I say we put him on the first train to Canterlot as soon as he wakes up and let the Princesses deal with him.”

Twilight glared at her. “I’m a princess.”

“Oh! Yes, of course you are, Sweetie,” Rarity grinned and patted her wings.

Twilight rolled her eyes and snorted.

“But we can’t send him away yet. He’s hurt. And a party might be what he needs to feel better,” Pinkie pleaded with Twilight. “I don’t think he’s a bad pony. He’s just far away from home and needs some help. Didn’t the humans of Canterlot High help you get your crown back, Twilight?”

“Yes. They did,” Twilight said thoughtfully. She sighed and continued, “Alright, I think we can show him some generosity,” she nodded to Rarity who gritted her teeth, “for a couple of days without too many problems. . . if he behaves himself.”

Pinkie pumped her hoof in the air. “Yesss, party at Sugar Cube Corner!”

“Let’s keep the guest list small, okay, Pinkie? Nopony can know what he is,” Twilight continued.

Pinkie Pie nodded happily, while Rarity pouted. “Fine, but don’t come whining to me if this turns out badly.”

The tall creature began to stir. His eyes were screwed shut as if he was having a bad dream.

Noticing this, Twilight shushed her two friends. “I think he’s waking up.”

The three ponies drew closer to the bed expecting Ernest to open his eyes. Instead, the creature lifted up one his legs and let out a colossal fart.

“Oh, sweet Celestia!!!” Rarity cried as the invisible cloud of odiferous fumes spread. She ran over to one of the windows and threw it open. She sucked in lungfuls of sweet smelling outside air.

Twilight instantly materialized a force field around herself.

Pinkie began running around the room with a huge empty pickle jar, laughing. “Oh, wow! That stinks!”

“Pinkie, what are you doing?” Twilight asked.

“I’m collecting this smell for later. This stuff is too good to waste.”

Ernest sat up abruptly; all the commotion had finally woke him up. “That dog is going to get it. How many times do I have to tell that beagle not to have company over while I’m asleep?” he grumbled to himself as he sat up, massaging his throbbing temples. “All his friends do is make a mess. They howl at the moon, watch ‘Underdog’ over and over again, break windows, and pee on the furniture. I’m . . . .” Ernest noticed the three ponies. One had her head stuck out a window and was glaring at him with hate-filled eyes. Another had a pinkish bubble around her body as she looked at him curiously. And the last pony was trying to coax air into a large jar.

Ernest didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the scene before him. This was obviously a dream. Then he shook with terror. This was no dream. He recognized the ponies that blew his cover and attacked him during his escape attempt. The Troll Slayer searched for something to throw or defend himself with. Perhaps a sword or a lemon cream pie. Seeing nothing within reach, he laughed nervously, “Eh, heh, heh, heh, can I help you ladies? If you’re looking for that handsome devil who escaped earlier, he’s in the next room over. I’m . . . uh, his twin brother. Yeah, my name’s Tom. Tom Bobby. Please don’t hurt me.”

Twilight Sparkle slowly walked up and stood beside the cowering creature. She dropped her shield for a moment, sniffed the air, and immediately put it back up. She gagged at the smell. Struggling to maintain a diplomatic smiling face she said, “Don’t be afraid Mr. Worrell. No pony is going to hurt you. I am Princess Twilight Sparkle, and on behalf of Equestria, welcome to Ponyville.”

The winged unicorn brought down her force field around one of her hoofs and offered it to Ernest. Ernest glanced at the appendage dubiously, unsure of how to proceed. However, being the gentleman he prided himself on, he gently took the hoof in both of his hands and kissed it lightly. He grinned, “It’s good to meet you ma’am. My name’s Ernest, Ernest P. Worrell, not Tom Bobby. Tom and Bobby are good friends of mine back home.”

Twilight’s smile wavered as the creature’s lips pressed against her hoof. She would have to remember to take an extra long bath when she got back to the library. The alicorn nodded her head at Ernest’s introduction. “Yes, Doctor Brighthoof told us all about you. They said that you were, were . . . uh, different.”

Growing more comfortable with his new guests, Ernest asked, “Yeah, speaking of the doc, where is he?” He then added quickly, “Uh, not that I mind you three being here.” Noticing a foul stench in the air he inquired, “You smell that?”

By this time Rarity had pulled her head back through the window and replied tersely, “Doctor Brighthoof is trying to find Granny Smith. Apparently she wandered off when you tried to escape.”

Ernest smiled, “Yep, that’s her. Good ol’ Granny. You know me and her go way back.”

Before Rarity could growl out a reply, Twilight interjected, “Mr. Worrell—”

“Call me Ernest. My dad’s Mr. Worrell, and he wouldn’t let ya forget it either.”

“Okay, Ernest,” Twilight began. “We have some questions for you. First of all, where did you come from? You’re the only human that has ever set hoof in Equestria . . . as far as I know.”

The Troll Slayer thought about this before replying. His eyebrows rose as he whispered, “Oh, my gosh, the masks were right.” In a louder voice he asked, “Is Equestria somewhere in Missouri?”

“Where’s Missouri?” Twilight responded curiously.

Ernest nodded, “That’s what I was afraid of. That troll must have took us out of the states . . . I must be in England, where all the weird fantasy King Arthur stuff happens. Camelot must be nearby.”

“Yes, it is! Yes, it is! Canterlot is about an hour’s train ride from here.” Pinkie Pie said excitedly, bouncing up and down as she sealed her reeking container.

“Is it really? Gosh, I’ve always wanted to go there and be a knight,” Ernest said, wistfully. “My folks and friends said I couldn’t because . . . well you know, they said it wasn’t real. But that never stopped me from pretending. I think I could fit in pretty good in Camelot. You three wanna hear my royal Camelot voice? I’ve been practicing.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks, Ernest, that won’t be . . . .” Twilight protested but Ernest gave her an example anyway.

In a loud Scottish accent he cried, “Laddies, it be a dark day in our fair town! The blasted Ottoman hordes are knocking at the bloody doors of Worrell’s Hold itself! We need lads of courage and bravery to meet them in battle with our Botswanaian brothers. We shall not go willingly into that black night, if ye know what I mean?”

A tear ran down Pinkie’s cheek as she sniffed, “That was beautiful.”

Rarity looked at Pinkie, “Surely you’re joking, darling!”

“No, I could hear the emotion and drama in his voice,” Pinkie insisted. “He must have been a poet or an actor where he comes from.”

Ernest blushed and said, “Actually, I’m a sanitation engineer back home, but thanks anyway.”

“You’re a garbage pony? Why am I not surprised?” Rarity asked.

Twilight shot her a dirty look before saying, “Ernest, that was, um, good. I’m sure you would fit right in. Anyway, you said something about following a troll here. Can you tell us about that?”

“Oh, him? I took care of that problem. Ya see, a real long time ago, my great-granddaddy Reverend Phenias Worrell planted this really nasty, ugly, slimy, . . . . “

Rarity let out an impatient sigh.

Getting the hint, Ernest continued, “You get the picture. There was a troll beneath an oak tree. This stunted devil was turning kids into little wooden dolls to create an army of trolls. Well, a couple of days ago, I. . . kinda accidently let him out.”

“Why in Celestia’s name did you do that?” Rarity asked dubiously, not at all believing what Ernest was saying.

“It was an accident,” Ernest said quickly, like he was about to be punished. “Me and some of my buddies built a fort in that same tree on Halloween. And I said accidentally, ‘Yea I call thee Forth Trantor.’ And then I accidentally thumped the tree three times. Just like this.”

Ernest slapped his hand on a wooden nightstand once, twice, and on the third time there was a loud bang. Twilight, Rarity, and Ernest screamed in terror. Glitter, confetti, and balloons rained down.

Twilight looked behind her and saw that Pinkie Pie had produced her party cannon and had just fired it.

“Pinkie! What are you doing?” Rarity yelled furiously.

“I’m practicing for the hospital party. My party cannon has to be in perfect working Pinkie perfection. Now if you will excuse me, I am very busy. Parties don’t practice themselves.”

Twilight took a deep breath and let it out slowly, just the way Princess Cadence had taught her as she dropped her magic barrier.
Between Ernest, Pinkie, and Rarity, her nerves and patience were being worn thin.

Meanwhile, Rarity was forgoing calming breathing exercises. Instead, she was contemplating murder. The fashionista was having trouble deciding who she wanted to strangle more, Pinkie or Ernest.

“So, what happened to this troll you ‘accidentally’ freed?” Twilight asked, using her hooves to make air quotes. “Should we be worried about it?”

Rarity gave Twilight a disbelieving stare. “Surely you’re not taking his story seriously! Why, this is nothing more than the ravings of a lunatic!”

Twilight held up a hoof. “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Well, long story short, the troll managed to grab five kids, including my fort building buddies, and turned them into dolls. He put those kid-dolls in his tree. I think he used his magic to change that tree into a troll fruit tree. These big brussel sprouts started to fall from it and turn into more trolls. Is all of this making sense so far?”

Pinkie Pie nodded her head vigorously as she reloaded her party cannon.

Rarity growled, “No, not at all.”

Twilight bit her lip. “Uh . . . it’s interesting, Ernest, but . . .?”

“Oh, what happened to Trantor? I gave him a big hug and a kiss and he exploded. Ya see, we were getting rid of his brussel sprout kids by throwing milk at them; they hate milk. I think they also hate authentic Bulgarian Miak, but I never got to try that out. Anyway, Trantor the troll somehow all of a sudden got really strong, really quick. You know this would be easier to explain if I had the book. I can’t remember exactly what it said.”

“You mean that huge old book that was with the rest of your stuff? That’s yours?” Twilight asked fascinated.

“No, I’m just borrowing it from Old Lady Hackmore. If you want to know anything about trolls or really weird creepy scary stuff, she’s the lady to talk to.” Ernest then looked to his left and right as he whispered, “Just between you three, me, and the walls, I think she’s nuttier than a fruitcake made out of nuts. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us,” Rarity replied sarcastically.

Ernest let out a sigh of relief.

While Rarity rolled her eyes, Twilight asked, “Can you describe the passage in the book you’re thinking about?”

“Oh. Yeah, it pretty well says if you want to get rid of your average troll, use milk. But to get rid of a super strong scary troll you need the heart of a child and a mother’s care. That’s why I went up to old hammer head and gave him a big sloppy one on the lips and told him he was cute.”

Before Rarity could rip into Ernest on kissing things, Twilight asked, “So you’ve actually kissed a troll, and it exploded?”

Ernest nodded. “Yep, that’s what happened. It took me a while to figure it out. However, I am Ernest P. Worrell. I am the local authority when it comes to dispatching trolls and other supernatural critters. There has never been a vampire, zombie, or goblin that I haven’t defeated.”

Rarity asked dryly, “And have you ever come across a vampire, zombie, goblin, or a troll?”

Not able to look the unicorn in the eye, Ernest replied, “Uh, well, not so much on the vampires, zombies, and goblins. It’s mainly just trolls, but I’m pretty sure I could take on other supernatural stuff.”

“So, how did you get here?” Twilight asked.

For the first time Twilight saw uncertainty enter Ernest’s eyes. “I don’t really know, Your Majesty. When me and some of the local folks attacked the trolls at their home tree, we won. The dolls turned back into kids, but during the mopping up, one troll opened some kind of swirly magic thingie to here. I followed him to this real wooded area. We had a duel, and I won. So, there are no more trolls here.”

Ernest then sat straight up in bed like he had just remembered something very important. “Except for those three little troll mutants I
saw last night!”

Rarity hissed, “Those weren’t mutants, you imbecile. That was my sister and her two friends you attacked!”

The Troll Fighter sank back into his bed. A shameful look came over him. “Oh that explains a lot. I’m sorry, Miss Rarity. It was dark, and they were wearing scary costumes, and Rimshot and I were busy fixing the truck, and . . .”

Ernest looked at all three ponies, concern written all over his features. “Rimshot! Have you three seen my dog? He’s real small, comes up to about here, is white with brown spots, likes MTV, hates the Brady Bunch, loves hamburgers and hotdogs . . . don’t ask. Have you seen him?”

All three ponies shook their heads.

“I’m sure he’s alright. He might be at Fluttershy’s cottage. She’s our resident animal expert. If anypony can find Rimshot, she can,” Twilight proclaimed.

This seemed to make Ernest feel better.

To change the subject, the sanitation engineer asked Twilight, “Is there anyway to get me and Rimshot back home, Your Majesty? I might have a job waiting for me at a high school that I’m pretty excited about.”

Ernest’s statement got the ponies’ attention. “Did you say high school, as in Canterlot High School?” Twilight asked.

Ernest rubbed his forehead tenderly as he replied, “I can’t remember the name of the school, but that sounds right. I’m good with kids, and I’m good at cleaning up messes . . . both theirs and mine. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The three ponies looked at each other with mutual understanding. A warm smile was on Twilight’s face as she said, “Ernest, I think we can get you home. There is a portal to Canterlot High located in the Crystal Empire that opens every full moon. The next full moon is in two days. My friends and I will come with you to the Crystal Empire and make sure you get home safely.”

Ernest smiled from ear to ear. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I. . . I. . . don’t know what to say. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Before Twilight could reply, Pinkie piped up, reading a clipboard. “Nah, I’m good. But, if I were you, I’d have the doctors get rid of those worms and gingivitis. And while they were at it, you could ask about that spastic colon of yours. Personally I wouldn’t, you sound great. I wish I had that kind of a random colon.”

“Pinky!” Twilight yelled. “That’s his private medical information. You’re not supposed to see that.”

Rarity made a disgusted face and chimed in, “Much less share it with us.”

Ernest was almost embarrassed to the point of tears when he said, “Oh, it ain’t no big deal. Although that spastic colon is a new one on me.”

As Ernest recovered from his shame, a thought occurred to him. “What else did you three find in the forest besides that book and my truck?”

Twilight blew her bangs from her face before answering. “Nothing really.”

Ernest debated whether to tell her about his adventure at Zecora’s hut. Ernest nodded. “Okey doke.”

“Well, Ernest, since you’ll be staying in Ponyville for a bit, there are some rules that you’re going to have to follow,” Twilight said, standing up and beginning to pace.

“Your wish is my command, Your Highness.”

The princess laughed as she said, “You don’t have to call me that, Ernest.” Twilight muttered to herself darkly. “It’s not like any pony else does. . .”

The ponies and human stared at the princess quizzically.

“But thanks anyway,” she continued brightly. “Okay, rule number one. You can’t tell anypony that you’re a human.”

Ernest gave the Princess a worried look. “Why not? Are humans sacrificed here? Am I gonna be eaten if other horses find out how tasty I am? You don’t wanna eat me, Princess. I’m nothing but skin and bone . . . with some muscle. I’ve been trying to work out in the gym, but it’s hard to find the time, you know what I mean? And . . .”

Shaking her head, Twilight yelled, “NO! No, Ernest, we don’t want to eat you. The fact of the matter is, you’re not supposed to be here. If ponies found out that a human was here, it might cause a panic. It’s real easy to start a panic in Ponyville. A couple of years ago a herd of rabbits came through Ponyville. It took hours to calm everypony down. It was pathetic. Until you get home, Ernest, you are a pony in a costume practicing for Nightmare Night.”

“What’s Nightmare Night?” asked Ernest.

“It’s great.” Pinkie answered happily. “It’s where you run around all over Ponyville asking random ponies for candy. You get to dress up in a costume and play all sorts of games and scare anypony you come across.

“Oh, it’s like Halloween,” Ernest mused. “Yeah, I can pretend I’m in an Ernest costume for a couple of days. What else do you want me to do, Your Highness?

“Rule Two: Don’t kiss anypony else while you’re here, and Rule Three: Stay out of trouble. If you follow these simple rules, everything will be just fine,” Twilight replied.

Ernest saluted and said, “Can do, Princess.” Looking over at Pinkie limbering up for her hospital party Ernest asked, “Do you need help setting up downstairs?”

Pinkie shook her head, “Thanks for asking, Ernest, but I can handle it. You stay here and get some rest. You got a big party of your own to look forward to later on!”

Princess POOP

After the hospital party, Pinkie Pie left to prepare for Ernest’s Welcome to Ponyville Party. Rarity went back to her salon to check on Sweetie Belle, leaving Twilight to escort Ernest around town. As Troll Fighter One and Twilight exited the infirmary, Ernest asked the Princess, “So who do you think is going to be at this shindig, Your Majesty?”

“Well, I would expect Rainbow Dash to be there. She wouldn’t miss a party thrown by Pinkie. Applejack and her brother, Big Macintosh, might show up after their chores are finished. Mr. and Mrs. Cake have graciously agreed to provide the food and drinks for the party, so you’ll be seeing them. Other than those ponies, I can’t think of anypony else who will be attending,” Twilight said thoughtfully. “We never had somepony like you here before, so we kept the party small.”

Ernest nodded his head and said smugly, “Nope, I wouldn’t reckon you get very many people like yours truly. I am a man apart from other men. I’m a lone wolf who survives by his wits alone. A stout boatman adrift through the backwater of time. A. . .”

“I get the picture,” Twilight interrupted gently. The alicorn had learned that if you didn’t cut him off, he would just keep rambling on.

As the pair walked down the dirt road to the edge of Ponyville, Ernest looked all around him with wide child-like eyes. Unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies were everywhere. He didn’t know what to look at first. Should he watch the flying horses clear clouds? Should he watch the unicorns levitate objects? Or maybe watch earth ponies carry twice their own body weight without breaking a sweat. He couldn’t make up his mind, so his eyes darted from pony to pony creepily.

“It’s quite a sight, isn’t it? I wish I could see what you’re seeing through your eyes.”

Ernest blinked and realized that Twilight was talking to him. He became aware that he was staring with his mouth open, making some of the ponies that passed by leery of getting too close.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen so many kinds of horses in one place before. Except maybe at that rainbow-glue factory I worked at a few years ago.” The last sentence Ernest said was muttered to himself.

“What did you say, Ernest? I didn’t catch that last part.”

“Oh, nothing, Your Highness, just talking to myself. Sometimes I even get a response. You know what I mean?”

Twilight shook her head and decided not to reply.

“Twilight! Hey, Twilight!”

Off in the distance a small green and lavender lizard was bounding up the road toward the Princess and the human.

Ernest shielded his eyes and squinted to get a better look at what was coming their way. “What is that?”

“That’s Spike. He’s my assistant over at the library.”

The sanitation engineer tore his eyes off the small lizard. “You’re the librarian here? I thought you lived in a palace in Camelot, and you were just visiting me.”

Sighing, the alicorn replied, “It’s pronounced Canterlot. I studied magic at Canterlot under Princess Celestia. When I finished my studies, I was assigned to Ponyville as the new librarian to learn about the Magic of Friendship.”

Ernest still had a confused look on his face. “But, you’re a Princess now, right? Not that I don’t mind your company, Your Majesty, but shouldn’t you be doing more important things then keeping an eye on little old me? Like . . . I don’t know, knighting people, visiting foreign countries, making sure everyone has an umbrella handy in case a pegasus can’t make it to the bathroom? I don’t know about you, but I feel kind of exposed out here underneath the tails of so many horses.

Twilight bit back an angry retort. Ernest hadn’t meant to, but he had struck a raw nerve with the Princess. She did want to go to other places, and to be treated like royalty, and have duties that were actually important. Instead, she replied, “Don’t worry about the pegasus, Ernest. That rarely happens.”

Before Ernest could ask another question, Spike had closed the distance. He stood there panting as he craned his neck to look up at the tall biped. “So, this is the human, huh?”

Twilight quickly shushed Spike and made sure no other pony had heard him. She hissed to the baby dragon, “He’s not a human. He’s a pony practicing for Nightmare Night. Remember?”

Spike looked down at his feet in embarrassment and said, “Sorry, Twilight.” He then looked up at Ernest and said, “Wow, that’s some costume you have on there, mister. What’s your secret? How did you make it?”

Puffing himself up, Ernest replied, “Well, Spike, the secret to getting a cutting edge physique like mine is to eat the four basic food groups: bananas, chocolate, prune juice, and baked beans. Also, get plenty of fiber. If you follow these simple steps, you’ll be looking like me in no time. A lean, mean, troll-hunting machine.”

Whispering to Twilight, Spike asked, “Is he being serious right now?”

Twilight sighed and nodded. “So what’s up, Spike? Is Pinkie ready for the guest of honor?”

“Yeah, she just now finished preparing. I was just passing through town when she tackled me and asked me to tell you that she was ready. I’ve never seen so many ponies at Sugarcube Corner! The whole place is packed.”

Twilight replied angrily, “What?! I told her to keep the party small! What the hay is she thinking?! Does anypony listen to me anymore?! This is going to be a disaster! The whole buckin’ town is going to be there, and . . .”

Both Spike and Ernest took an unconscious step back from the upset alicorn. As Twilight vented her frustration on two scared looking ponies that got too close, Ernest turned to Spike and asked worriedly, “So, uh Spike, what goes on at these kinds of get-togethers? Are there any games, any dancing, you know, stuff like that?”

“Oh, yeah, you’ve never been to a Pinkie Party before. You’re in for a real treat. Pinkies’s parties are as random as they are fun. Plus you have the added benefit of meeting the entire town.” Noticing Ernest had a nervous look on his face, Spike continued, “Relax, it’ll be fun, as long as you don’t kiss anypony.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. My lips are sealed. And I don’t mind meeting the town folk. As long as they don’t want to blindfold me, tie me up, and hit me with sticks.”

“Why would they do that?” Spike asked.

“It happened one time when I was a camp counselor. The kids said that they needed a piñata, and I volunteered. At the time I thought a piñata was Spanish for clown, but boy was I wrong. Spike just looked at Ernest and said, “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Oh good,” Ernest replied relieved. “I’ve been dreading that all day.”

As the human finished sharing his traumatic experience as a party favor, Twilight had calmed down enough to mutter, “Alright you two, let’s head over there.”

As the group got moving, Twilight noticed that Spike looked tired from his run. “Do you need a ride, Spike?”

Knowing that Twilight was still pretty upset over the party, he replied, “No thanks. I can walk, it’s not that far. I’m . . . .”

Before Spike could say more, Ernest stepped up to the baby lizard and said, “I’ve got this, Your Highness.” With that, Ernest picked Spike up and set him on his shoulders. At first, Spike was scared about being up so high on a complete stranger’s shoulders. For that matter, so was Twilight. However, after a few seconds Spike said, “Wow, this is a pretty good view. Thanks, Ernest.”

“Don’t mention it,” Ernest wheezed as he swayed left and right trying to balance Spike’s deceptively enormous weight.

“Are you okay?” the princess asked.

“Oh, yeah. He’s just a bit heavier than I thought. I can do it.” After several painful steps, he asked, “What does he eat anyway? It feels like I got a sack of broken glass sitting on my neck.”

“I eat gems, nice tasty gems, diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies . . . you know, stuff like that.”

“Hmmm, you might want to get that checked out. That doesn’t sound too good for a lizard,” Ernest stated as he struggled forward.

“I’m a dragon, not a lizard,” Spike replied indignantly.

Ernest stopped dead in his tracks, “Well I’ll be a son of a troll; I’m carrying a living, breathing dragon. J.R.R. Tolkein eat your heart out.”

As Ernest said this, Twilight muttered to herself, “Oh, and meeting a Princess of Equestria wasn’t the highlight of the day? It figures.”

A few minutes later, the three companions walked into the heart of Ponyville, and as Spike had stated, Sugarcube Corner was packed.

Twilight said to the sanitation engineer, “Now remember, Ernest, don’t say anything about humans. You are a pony in a costume.”

“What kind of costume?” Ernest asked.

Twilight paused as she bit her lip and thought. After a few seconds, she asked, “You have any ideas, Spike?”

Spike giggled and said jokingly, “How about a shaved minotaur?”

“What? That’s horri--, Well, I honestly can’t think of anything better. Fine, he’s a minotaur. Let’s just hope Iron Will doesn’t come to town anytime soon,” replied Twilight.

“Now hold on guys. Do I really look like a shaved cow that walks on its hind legs?” Ernest gasped as he shifted Spike’s weight.

Dodging the question, Twilight declared, “Let’s go. They’re waiting on us.”

Cringing, Ernest plodded toward the colossal gingerbread house.

As the group opened the door and crossed over the threshold into the bakery, Ernest’s thoughts rampaged across his mind. Oh, What do I do? What do I say? Should I call them horses or ponies? If they don’t talk, how do I tell the boys from the girls? Oh, I’ll just look between their legs. Can they smell fear? I wish I had something to read from.

At that moment Spike felt a deep rumbling in his stomach. The baby dragon let out a huge belch that was barely heard above the den of the collected ponies’ loud voices.

“Did you say something?” Ernest asked.

“No, uh, nothing,” Spike replied clumsily as he tried to pat out the spreading fire.

All the ponies in the room noticed Ernest arrival since he was the only thing in the room standing on two legs. A hushed murmur of curiosity quickly spread through the ponies. They were unsure what to make of the strange biped with smoke coming from his head.

Ernest was about to say something off the cuff when a piece of parchment landed from out of nowhere into his hands. Delighted, Ernest unrolled the paper and whispered to Twilight, “Hey, thanks for the note. I was kind of wondering if you wanted me to say something in particular. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, sure Ernest. Wait, what? What do you mean?” Twilight asked as she looked up curiously at the human. But it was too late. In a loud voice, Ernest had begun reading.

Dear Princess Twilight,
Fine. Since you keep insisting on having a title, you shall hence forth be known as Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Panicking Over Ordinary Problems, or POOP for short. Yes, you are the Princess of POOP, since that’s all you ever do.
Sincerely,
Princess of the Sun and Everything the Light Touches,
Celestia

The ponies roared with laughter when Ernest had finished reading the letter. Some were laughing so hard they were crying.

Twilight could not believe what was happening. She put her wings in front of her face so no one could see how embarrassed she was.

When Ernest finished reading, he was very confused. He wondered why the Princess had given him this strange letter to read. And why was she hiding behind her wings? However, before he could ask these questions, the smell of burning hat drifted by his nose. “Hey, Spike, just wondering, can you breathe . . . ?”

“Fire!” Somepony screamed, drowning out Ernest’s question. The cry was taken up by several panicked ponies seconds later.

“Yeah, what they said,” Ernest finished.

Spike didn’t answer; instead he jumped off Ernest’s shoulders.

“Now where are you going? Come back. I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just wondering,” Ernest said.

Small hands shook Twilight out of her self pity. “Snap out of it, Twilight. We’ve got a problem.” The princess peeked out from her wings to see a panicking Spike frantically gesturing at Ernest’s head. The human’s hat was nearly engulfed in flames.

“Ernest, don’t move! Your hat is on fire!” Twilight yelled.

“Are you sure? I thought that was just me being nervous. Ya know what I mean?” The human asked. Noticing a mirror to his left, he looked at it and then let out a piercing scream. “WWWWHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA--------.”

Ernest’s scream was cut short as a large piece of pie hit him in the face, sending him crashing to the floor. He was hit so hard, he forgot about the fire burning on top of his head. Ernest brought his hands up and put a piece of the sugary treat in his mouth as he got to his feet. “Mmmmm, this is great.”

Twilight looked to see who threw the pastry. She was not surprised when she saw a multi-colored pegasus hovering above the ground with another pie in-between her hooves.

“Come on everypony. Let’s put out the fire.”

“Rainbow Dash, wait!” Twilight shouted.

But it was far too late. Following Rainbow’s lead, Ernest was brought to his knees as he was pelted from all sides by ponies wielding cake, ice cream, pies, and fruit. Some of the ponies, thinking that this was a food fight, began to throw their tasty missiles at each other.

“Everypony, St--!” Twilight’s scream was cut short as Derpy Hooves dropped a whole cake on top of her head. As Ernest tried to regain his footing once again, a reddish orange pony with a yoke around his neck sat on Ernest’s chest pinning him to the floor. Meanwhile an orange mare with a cowboy hat had appeared with a punch bowl. She dumped the entire contents of the bowl on his head. The orange pony then screamed, “QUIET, YOU DANG FOALS!!”

This got the attention of everypony in the building, and the food fight died down.

“Ernest, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Twilight asked as she came to Ernest’s side.

“No, he ain’t alright. Look at ‘em.” Applejack replied. “He had everything but the kitchen sink thrown at ‘em, thanks to that dad burned, pie flinging, show pony!!”

A split second later, Rainbow Dash was in the earth pony’s face yelling, “I was trying to put out the fire with what I had! Where were you all this time?”

“Not trying to kill him with sweets, that’s for sure.”

Before Rainbow Dash could reply, the sanitation engineer began to flail around on the ground underneath the huge earth pony.

“Uh, Big Mac, ya best get off of ‘em. He’s turnin’ colors.”

“Eyup,” Big Mac replied as he got up off the human.

Ernest took a very deep breath as he was helped to his feet by the other ponies. The first thing he did was spit out a mouthful of cake. He then removed his hat and saw that only the brim was left of his treasured possession.

Spike, the only one who did not have a speck of party food on him, came up to Ernest and said, “I’m sorry about your hat. I honestly didn’t mean to set you on fire. I can’t control when letters from Princess Celestia come, and when they do . . . it kind of makes a mess sometimes.”

Ernest turned to Spike and asked, “Is that what that was? I thought those notes were funny. If I’d known you were a walking flaming mailbox, I’d probably have set ya down sooner. You know what I mean?”

Spike frowned and looked down at the floor.

The human smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Spike. It was an old hat anyway. In fact, keep it. It’s yours. I was going to give it to you anyway.

“Really? Thanks, Ernest.” Spike then put what was left of the hat on his head. “I like it.”

Twilight came up to Rainbow Dash and glared at her. “Don’t you have something to say too, Rainbow?”

The blue pegasus huffed and said, “Fine. I’m sorry I tried to put out the fire while every pony else was standing around staring.”

“Rainbow Dash!” Twilight scolded.

“It’s okay, Princess. She’s right. If she hadn’t done what she did, I might still be a green torch running around.”

“Thank you. My thoughts exactly,” agreed the pegasus.

Even though all was forgiven, Twilight could see the weariness and hurt in Ernest’s eyes. Then a barking noise was heard coming from the front door.

Ernest turned to see a yellow pegasus cradling a small dog in-between her hooves.

“Rimshot?” Ernest asked hopefully. “Is that you?”

The pegasus put down the small dog. The beagle yipped happily and scampered up his owner’s legs.

Tears of happiness streamed down Ernest’s face as he hugged his dog to his chest. “This is the best party I’ve ever had.”

Don't Kill Me

“Now, that was a food fight!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as the last of the chocolate icing was wiped from the ceiling.

Ernest grinned as he mopped the floor. “Yeah, it was pretty good. I haven’t been in a food fight like that since my days at Kamp Kikakee, but those boys didn’t throw near as hard.” The human winced as he smiled. The side of his head where Rainbow Dash had scored a direct hit with her pie was still tender.

Noticing this, Rainbow Dash put down her spray bottle and gloves. She hovered over to the Troll Fighter and asked, “So, how’s your face doing?”

Ernest quickly withdrew his hand that was probing his head. “I’m okay. Compared to what Rarity gave me, having some dessert thrown my way wasn’t so bad.”

The sky blue pegasus raised her eyebrows. “She actually hit you? I thought Pinkie was exaggerating when she told me that part. Oh man, she must’ve been mad at you.”

Feeling a nudge from behind him, Ernest looked down. Applejack was gesturing for him to lean close. “Did ya really kiss Sweetie Belle?”

Ernest looked to see if anyone else was listening to the conversation. Luckily all the other ponies were busy, except for Rainbow Dash, who was listening intently. “Yeah, but it was only a peck on the cheek . . . It was like me kissing Rimshot. Ain’t that right, boy?”

The dog looked at Ernest in-between mouthfuls of apple cake that had landed on the floor. He stared for a couple of seconds and then went back to eating again.

“Eh-heh-heh-heh, he agrees with me. He’d say so himself, but it’s rude to talk with your mouth full.”

Applejack glared up at him with her piercing emerald eyes. “It’s also rude to lie,” she hissed.

“Eyup,” Big Mac chimed in as he carried a load of trash bags out the door.

Ernest’s eyes darted back and forth as he said quietly, “Alright, alright, I kissed her on the mouth. I thought she was a troll, and that’s the best way to get rid of the stunted devils. It was dark, and her costume was real scary, and . . .”

Rainbow Dash dissolved into gales of laughter. “That’s how you get rid of trolls?!!” she howled loudly.

The pegasus’ outburst drew the attention of everypony in the room. Realizing what she just said, Rainbow Dash stuttered, “I mean, that’s how you shine a pole? Ha, ha, ha,” she continued laughing mirthlessly as she floated back to her rubber gloves and spray bottle.

Shaking her head at her winged friend, Applejack whispered to Ernest, “Well, that’s about what Pinkie Pie said. And from what I gathered from Rarity earlier, Sweetie Belle’s doin’ just fine. But if ya ever do something like that again, you’re going to answer to me, and I hit a lot harder. Do you understand?”

Ernest nodded his head up and down rapidly, his eyes wide with fear. “Yes ma’am, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Good,” Applejack replied as she walked past Ernest, following Big Mac out the door with a couple more bags of trash.

As the sanitation engineer let out a sigh of relief, a very loud voice boomed, “Hey, new pony?”

Ernest jumped backward a few steps in surprise. As he recovered, he turned around to see who the new pony was. Instead he saw that a white unicorn with a blue mane and a microphone was pointing his way.

Ernest looked from side to side to see who the new pony was. Seeing that all the other horses were looking at him, he finally gestured to himself and mouthed “me?”

“Yeah you, in the freakish minotaur costume,” the unicorn said into the microphone. “This is your party. What kind of poison would you like to jam to?”

The human, uncomfortable with all the attention, put up his hands. “Oh, no thanks. I like to keep my jams and my poisons separate. You know what I mean?”

The white unicorn lowered her shades and frowned as all the other ponies laughed at the stranger’s wit.

Ernest felt a tapping on his leg. He looked down and saw a mint colored unicorn with white hair. “She means, what music would you like to listen to?”

“Is that what she’s talking about? Okay, thank’s uh . . .”

“Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.”

“Thanks, Lyra.”

The Troll Fighter turned his attention back to the impatient D.J. pony. “Do you have any country, or western tunes up there?”

The D.J. pony’s lips thinned like she had just tasted something bitter.

Ernest not noticing continued, “You know Johnny Cash, Conway Twitty, Willie Nelson any of those guys?

The room had gone very quiet as the other ponies looked at each other to see if anypony knew what the heck the costumed pony was talking about.

Ernest felt another, much harder tapping on his other leg. A different pony with a blue and pink striped mane asked, “Who the hay are those show ponies?”

“Well, they’re not ponies. They’re . . .” Ernest stopped himself as he realized what he was about to say. “Uh . . . never mind, Ms. . . .”

“Her name’s Bon Bon,” Lyra said.

“I hate to interrupt the group meeting, but would it be okay if I chose something?” the D.J. asked.

Ernest gave the okay sign, “Sure, go ahead.”

The white unicorn grinned maliciously as she stepped away from the microphone.

Turning back to the two ponies, Ernest declared, “She seems nice, talks a little funny though, but . . .”

The human frowned as she saw Bon Bon put her hooves over her ears.

“What’s wrong with you? Do you have an ear ache or something?”

“She doesn’t like Vinyl’s music. It’s . . .” Lyra struggled for the right word before settling on, “pretty loud.”

Bon Bon chimed in, “I’d be holding my ear’s, if I were you.”

Ernest folded his arms over his chest and said confidently, “Oh really, I appreciate the warning, but Ernest P. Worrell doesn’t shirk from loud noises, nor does he cover his ears when music is played in his honor. Rimshot and I can take whatever she can dish out, ain’t that right boy?”

Looking down at his dog, he saw that Rimshot was sitting back on his hind legs with his two front paws over his ears in preparation.

“Smart dog,” Bon Bon commented dryly.

Before Ernest could reply, the lights had dimmed and strange multicolored lights on the ceiling came on. The Troll Fighter suddenly had a bad feeling about what was coming, but it was too late. Noise like he had never heard before blared out from four massive speakers close to where Vinyl was standing. She didn’t seem to care in the least as she fiddled with a huge music-machine that spat out the strange sounds.

Ernest immediately clamped his hands over his ears as the loud chaotic music and the bright lights drove him to his knees. “WWWHHHAAAAA, What is this? Make it stop!!” He wailed, but no one seemed to hear him as the party goers started to dance happily to the beat of the music.

The human was stepped on several times before a couple pairs of hooves dragged him away from the music.

He was led to a table booth to regain his bearings.

“I told you to cover your ears, you big dummy,” declared Bon Bon.

While making sure he had not broken any bones, Ernest replied, “It just caught me by surprise, that’s all. I hear this kind of music all the time where I come from.”

Sitting across from him, Lyra asked, “Where do you come from, if you don’t mind me asking? I’ve never heard your kind of accent before. If I had to guess, I’d say you were from Appleloosa or Dodge City.”

Bon Bon sighed, bored with small talk, “I’m going to grab some cake, Lyra. Do you want any?”

Lyra just shook her head, her attention riveted on the costumed pony.

As Bon Bon left, Ernest started to panic as he tried to come up with a convincing lie on the spur of the moment. “Uh, what were the choices again on where I come from?” he asked.

Lyra grabbed Ernest’s pant leg roughly and snarled. Her pleasant demeanor had completely changed. “You can drop the act now. I know exactly what you are, and you aren’t a shaved minotaur. You’re a human!”

“Uh . . .err,” before Ernest could say a half-baked fib, he spotted a pony carrying a tray of milkshakes from table to table.

The Troll Fighter frantically waved the pony over and yelled over the din of music, “Can my friend and I here have a round of waters? I’m a little short of funds, ya know what I mean?”

An amused smirk appeared on the yellow pony’s face as he replied, “I don’t know where you come from bud, but here in Ponyville, we don’t make you pay at your own party.” A pen and note pad appeared as he set the tray down. “Now, what’ll it be?”

“A chocolate shake would hit the spot,” Ernest replied a little too quickly.

The yellow pony glanced down at Ernest. “Hey, relax. If you’re worried about the food fight earlier, don’t be. I won’t make you pay for the damage to the store. Rainbow Dash and the others are another story.” As the owner of Sugarcube Corner took Ernest’s order, he asked the mint colored unicorn, “Hey, Lyra, would you like anything?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Cake. I was just talking to my human friend here.”

Ernest tried not to look panicked.

“Human?” The yellow earth pony laughed. “If this pony had wanted to be a human for Nightmare Night, he would be two feet shorter, grey skinned, and hairier than a Star Swirl the Bearded physics question.

Stamping her hooves in frustration, Lyra growled, “That’s a dwarf. Dwarves don’t exist, but humans do. And I am telling you, he’s a human. Look at his legs and his hands! His pink fleshy complexion and his tiny snout! Use your eyes!”

Mr. Cake shrugged off Lyra shaking him and took another scrutinizing glance at Ernest.

Ernest pasted a blank smile on his face and sweated.

Mr. Cake finally said, “Okay, so is this a human costume or a shaved minotaur costume?”

“He’s not in costume! He is a human!!!” Lyra seethed.

Nodding his head in agreement, Ernest replied, “You’re right, Lyra. I should have gone as a human, but it’s too late to switch now. You know what I mean?”

Ignoring the fuming unicorn, the co-owner of Sugarcube Corner asked the guest of honor, “Well, besides the chaos at the beginning and the cleanup, how’s the rest of the party going?”

“Oh this is great! Best party I’ve ever had!” Ernest answered, relieved to have someone else think that he was still in costume.

Rimshot, who was sitting beside Ernest, barked lazily in agreement. It looked like the beagle had gained ten pounds from eating the left overs of the food fight.

“Glad to hear it. Well, I’d better see to your shake. Hopefully we can visit later on.”

“No wait. Come back. I want to order something else!” Ernest yelled, but it was too late. The pony had already picked up his tray and left.

The human turned his attention back to Lyra who was glaring at him intently. “Eh, heh, heh, heh, uh . . . what were we talking about?”

“You may have the other’s fooled, human, but I am on to you. You are my proof that humans exist, and I’ll be bucked if I’ll let this chance slip by,” The pony stated sharply.

As the Sanitation Engineer contemplated bolting for the door, he was bowled over by a deafening blast.

“EXCUSE ME, ERNEST!!!” A loud screeching voice wailed next to Ernest’s ear.

Troll Fighter One was blown over in his seat by the volume of the pony yelling at him. Rimshot just barely managed to hop on top of the table to avoid being squished by his master.

Ernest yelled in terror, putting his arms and feet up in front of his face, “WWWWHHHAAAA, Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me!”

After a few seconds, Ernest peaked out from behind his fingers to see a yellow pegasus with a pink mane blushing profusely. Fluttershy looked down at Ernest apologetically and said, “Oh my, I’m sorry about that Ernest. I didn’t mean to yell so loudly. But, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now, and I thought if I yelled especially loud . . . and, well. . . .” Fluttershy’s voice trailed off.

Ernest sighed in relief, as he sat back up in the booth. “That’s alright. I thought you were a troll.”

Lyra, who was also recovering from Fluttershy’s bellow shook her head. “No! You are not getting away, human. You and I are going to Canterlot today, so I can present you to the Princesses and prove that I--hey, let go!”

Grabbing her friend from behind, Bon Bon looked apologetically at Ernest and said, “I am so sorry about this. I should have never left you two alone. I saw that look in her eye when she caught a glimpse at you. I thought she’d be okay.”

“I am okay,” Lyra insisted. “He’s the real McCoy this time, Bon Bon. I swear it.”

“Come on, Lyra. Let’s get you home,” Bon Bon said tiredly, dragging her friend away.

Turning her fanatical gaze on Ernest, Lyra cried, “This isn’t over! I will find you!” She then began to emit a string of curses at her friend to let her go.

The yellow pegasus’s cheeks reddened as Lyra’s curses became more exotic.

Standing up out of the booth, Ernest said, “Thanks for bailing me out back there, Fluttershy. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep her guessing. And thanks again for taking care of Rimshot while I was in the hospital.”

“Oh, that’s alright, Ernest. Rimshot is such a good boy. Yes, he is. Yes, he is.” As she said this, she rubbed the dog’s belly. Rimshot’s back leg scratched the air quickly. When Fluttersshy was done, the beagle stood back up and barked at Ernest.

Ernest shook his head, “No, we can’t keep her.”

The pony smiled at the complement, but then she realized, “You can understand him?”

The red neck gave her a strange look as he replied, “Well, yeah. He’s my dog.”

“Um, yes, but you can understand him bark for bark. I don’t know of anypony else who can do that.”

Ernest thought about this for a second before replying. “I just figured that was because he barks with a really strong beagle accent that even other beagles can’t understand.”

After Ernest said this, Rimshot growled irritably at his master in embarrassment.

“What? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, and I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t told me.”

“Can you understand other dogs or animals?” Fluttershy asked fascinated.

“Nope, just him.”

“Oh,” she replied in disappointment.

Before the winged pony could ask another question, the front door to Sugarcube Corner slammed open deafeningly. Yelping in fear, the pegasus scooped up Rimshot and flew back into the booth Ernest had vacated earlier. The music stopped, and the blinding rainbow lights turned off.

Troll Fighter One squinted at the bright sunlit figure as it strolled into the bakery. After rubbing his teary eyes from the glare, he was face to face with an honest to goodness minotaur in a tie.

The mythical beast grabbed the human’s shirt and pulled him close until their faces were centimeters apart. Snorting, the beast asked, “Are you the pony who has been mocking Iron Will with this disgraceful costume?”

Giving the minotaur a confused look, Ernest looked down at himself and replied, “Well, sorry. If I had known minotaurs were fatter, err, I mean bulkier, I would have had a protein shake before I came over here. You know what I mean?”

Iron Will seethed in rage as he said very slowly and menacingly, “Take. It. Off. Now.”

The ponies who weren’t cowering in terror looked on in curiosity. What did this pony look like underneath his costume?

Ernest’s confusion turned to gut-wrenching fear as he stammered, “Yeah, well, see . . . uh about that, I . . . .”

“You refuse?” Iron Will bellowed. “Fine. Iron Will shall tear it off you piece by piece. If somepony offends, make them amend!”

Grasping both sides of Ernest’s rubbery face, Iron Will began to pull.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. Hey stop it! That stings really bad.”

Surprised that the pony’s mask wasn’t tearing in the least, Iron Will changed tactics. He grabbed the minotaur imposter in a headlock and tried to pull his fake head off.

“Pal, I’m telling ya, it doesn’t come off that way. OW! Cut it out!” Ernest yelped in pain.

Letting go of the strange pony, Iron Will poked Ernest in the chest and exclaimed, “I will get this costume off you if it’s the last thing I do!”

The next thing Ernest knew, he and the minotaur were pushed away from each other by a pink pony.

Pinkie, nose to nose with Iron Will asked, “Alright Buster Brown, what’s the big deal? He’s just practicing for Nightmare Night. No harm, no fowl.”

Sniffing Iron Will’s breath, Pinkie turned green and waved at the air. “Never mind. That’s pretty foul.”

Shoving his face in Pinkie’s, the bull-headed creature roared, “That costume is offensive to my eyes! Iron Will isn’t leaving until he sees that pony remove it!”

The minotaur tried to step around Pinkie, but the pony moved to block his way.

Raging at the Earth Pony, Iron Will yelled, “If someponey tries to block, show them . . .”

“Yeah, yeah, listen big guy. How about this?” Pinkie asked impatiently. “Let’s have a hoof wrestling contest. If Ernest wins, he stays in costume. If you win, he takes it off.”

Without hesitation, Iron Will cracked his neck. “Agreed.”

Ernest, smiled cockily and came up to the minotaur. “Yeah, let’s have a thumb wrestling contest. I accept. Let’s do it. No take backsies. You’re in for it now, buddy. No one can beat Ernest P. Worrell, when it comes to thumb combat. I am the master when it comes to digit warfare, and I take no prisoners.”

Cracking his knuckles, Iron Will replied, “I believe the pink one said hoof wrestling, not thumb wrestling.”

The sanitation engineer’s confidence deflated faster than a popped balloon. He gulped, “Eh-heh- heh-heh. One second. I need to get limbered up first.”

Never Leave a Blue Pony Down

Without waiting for a reply, Ernest bent down and asked Pinkie, “Are you sure you didn’t say thumb wrestling?”

The earth pony smiled and patted Ernest on the arm. “Don’t worry, Ernest, old pal. Pinkie has a plan. Now you go talk to Dashie. She has a few pointers about wrestling.”

Before Ernest could protest, he felt a hoof around his neck pulling him down to face a rainbow-maned pony. “Okay, have you ever hoof wrestled before?” she asked.

“Yeah, there was this one time when I was in prison. I arm wrestled this one guy and . . .”

“Wait, wait, back up. You were in prison?”

“I was framed. It all started when this guy Nash wanted to rob this bank I was working at. He wanted to switch places with . . .”

Shoving a hoof into the human’s face, Rainbow Dash growled, “We don’t have time for this.” Still clamping Ernest’s mouth shut, she looked the sanitation engineer up and down. “I hope to Celestia you’re stronger than you look.”

Letting go of the Troll Fighter’s face, she sighed. “Okay, since you’ve done something like hoof wrestling before, I’ll just cover the basics.”

“Hey!”

Both Rainbow Dash and Ernest looked over at Iron Will.

“Time’s up. Get your tail over here and let’s do this.”

“Give us a minute. He’s not done stretching,” the pegasus called back.

Before the pegasus could utter a word of advice, a distinct country voice echoed throughout the bakery. “What in the Sam Hill is going on here now?”

“Gargh!” Rainbow Dash wailed in frustration. “I’m trying to give Ernest some pointers about hoof wrestling.”

Applejack raised an eyebrow at this answer. “Uh, why?”

“Cause he’s gonna hoof wrestle that minotaur.”

The blonde Earth Pony looked behind her and beheld Iron Will doing one-armed pushups to warm up. “Why?” she asked again.

Before the pegasus could blow up in rage or Ernest could clumsily explain, Applejack held up a hoof and said, “Never mind. I’m sure Rainbow Dash got ya into this mess somehow. Ya want me or Big Mac to take care of ‘em?”

“Yes!” That’s what Ernest wanted to say but was interrupted by a bell.

DING, DING, DING.

Pinkie Pie reappeared in the center of the bakery in a referee’s uniform with a microphone. “Fillies and Gentlecolts, welcome to the Sugarcube Corner Hoof Wrestling Extravaganza.”

Only crickets greeted the pink earth pony’s announcement for a few seconds. That soon changed however.

“Pinkie! What the hay are you doing?” screamed an irate Twilight Sparkle.

Spike and Big Mac held back the Princess as she tried to struggle through the crowd of party goers.

“Calm down, Twilight,” pleaded Spike as he held one of Twilight’s hooves. “Pinkie has a plan, doesn’t she, Fluttershy?”

The yellow pegasus nodded hesitantly as she petted Rim Shot. “Yes . . . I don’t like it though, but if it saves Ernest from getting hurt . . . I’ll do it.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Twilight.

As Spike explained Pinkie Pie’s plan to the princess, the Troll Fighter’s mouth had gone dry in fright. The pink announcer had taken to broadcasting the exploits of Iron Will to the audience, and there were many of them.

Applejack’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “I didn’t even know a pony could bench press that.”

Ernest laughed nervously. “Eh-heh-heh-heh, yeah that is impressive, but it’s not anything old Ernest P. Worrell can’t top.” Noticing everyone’s attention was on the minotaur, Ernest tried to slip away. As he tried to make his way to Rimshot and the egress, the rainbow pegasus flew up to him out of nowhere. She was nose to nose with the human when she asked, “And where do you think you’re going?”

The sanitation engineer grimaced. “I think I left the heater going in my truck. I, uh, need to go check that out. I’d hate to set anything on fire that isn’t mine. You know what I mean?”

“Get back in there!” The pegasus commanded as she pointed to the center of the bakery.

Ernest’s rubbery face contorted in fright as he obeyed Rainbow Dash’s command.

“And in this corner of the room,” yelled Pinkie Pie suddenly, “is the freakishly tall pony on stilts sporting a trendy, hairless minotaur costume! Yeah! It’s Ernest P. Worrell, the pony from Briarville!”

The entire bakery erupted in applause for Ernest.

Touched, the Troll Fighter waved back at his new fans, and a familiar swagger came back to his steps as he strolled to the arm wrestling table. However, as the Troll Fighter sat down, his new-found confidence evaporated as he looked at the ripped minotaur.

Ernest swallowed as the huge creature sat down on his side of the table. The human tried to put on a tough face and said in a deep voice, “Alright buster, I’m gonna give ya one last chance ta back out of this. What do ya say?”

Iron Will leaned across the table and snorted in the human’s face. “When they say back out, give them a clout.”

Pinkie Pie gently pushed Iron Will back into his seat and said, “Alright boys, arms on the table.”

As the two opponents made ready for their duel, Pinkie Pie turned around and picked Fluttershy out in the crowd of ponies and nodded.

The shy pegasus mouth thinned into a hard line of determination as she made her way behind Ernest.

Pinkie turned her attention back to the match. “Okay gentlecolts, on the count of three.”

“Wait!” Ernest yelled frantically. “Is it one, two, three go? Or are we doing this like, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi? Or . . .”

“What’s a Mississippi?” asked Pinkie.

“Enough stalling!” roared Iron Will distractedly. His attention seemed to be drifting to something in the crowd and back to Ernest.

“Here we go, boys,” said Pinkie happily.

Ernest felt a strong desire to urinate as Pinkie began to count. “Three, Two, One, go!”

The human closed his eyes and put every bit of muscle into pinning the minotaur’s arm to the table.

Iron Will didn’t budge, but neither was the minotaur using his great strength against the disguised human. If Ernest would have looked up at his opponent, he would have seen a completely petrified minotaur. The creature’s gaze was fixed on a pony in the crowd who was shaking her head disapprovingly, her piercing stare never deviating from Iron Will’s eyes. Fluttershy brought up her right hoof and slowly bent it at a ninety-degree angle. Iron Will imitated the pegasus motion, and seconds later the crowd erupted in explosive cheering.

Ernest opened his eyes, and to his surprise, he had brought down the monster’s arm with his own. Iron Will shook his head as if awakening from a dream. He looked down at his arm, and to his horror, the pony imposter had won, but how? Iron Will’s thoughts were interrupted by the other stallion’s extremely annoying chuckle.

“Eh-heh-heh-heh, sorry buddy. Looks like the suit stays on.”

Still grasping the costumed pony’s hoof, Iron Will yanked the minotaur imposter out of his seat and across the table.

“I don’t know how you won, but if I were you, I’d find myself another town to be in on Nightmare Night.”

With that, Iron Will let go of Ernest and stormed out of the bakery.

Before Ernest could even sigh in relief, he felt his hand being raised in the air by the pink pony.

“The winner!” Pinkie Pie yelled.

The ponies stomped their hooves in applause and chanted the human’s name over and over. Grinning smugly from ear to ear, Ernest flexed his arms to the crowd.

Holding a microphone to her lips, Pinkie Pie asked the sanitation engineer, “Ernest, you just hoof wrestled the biggest, baddest, meanest, minotaur in all of Equestria and won. Tell the audience how you did it.”

Speaking into the microphone, Ernest replied, “Well, Pinkie, both of these arms of mine are things of mass destruction. Where I come from, I have to get a permit for putting on a jacket because I am concealing deadly weapons.”

In the crowd Twilight Sparkle, Spike, and a few other ponies guffawed loudly at Ernest’s comments. Spike laughed so hard Ernest’s ruined hat fell off his head.

Fighting back a fit of laughter of her own, Pinkie asked, “Uh-huh, you seemed a bit nervous there before the match. Was that just pre-wrestling jitters?”

Ernest waved his hand dismissingly. “Naw, that was me getting warmed up. I’ll tell you one thing though, I would have lost without the help of one pony.”

Pinkie Pie glanced over at a now blushing Fluttershy as the pink pony asked, “And which pony would that be, Ernest?”

The Troll Fighter looked at the earth pony weirdly. “Mr. Cake, of course.”

“What?” Pinkie screeched into the microphone.

Hearing glass shatter behind him, Ernest turned around to see Mr. Cake looking dumbly at him. The yellow pony had dropped a tray of sugary treats in utter surprise. Taking the microphone from Pinkie Pie, Ernest walked over to stand beside the now very nervous pony.

“This man right here let me have a chocolate milk shake for free. Now during my match with that . . . mad cow thing, that was all I thought about. I knew win or loose, I had something good coming to me on the other side. It was the little nudge I needed to see me through.”

After patting Mr. Cake on the back, Ernest walked back to the arm wrestling table and climbed on top of it. “If President Washington didn’t have his little nudge, then he would not have had the peace of mind to defend the Alamo against the Japanese.”

The ponies began to look at each other in confusion as the costumed stallion continued to speak.

“Or what if Stormin’ Normin’ didn’t have his nudge? Why, he might have led his war elephants against the Romans instead of the Spanish. Need I say more, ladies and gentleman?”

The ponies stared blankly back at him. “Okay folks, the point is the nudge will get you through whatever life throws at you.” Looking right at Mr. Cake, Ernest said, “I’d tip my hat to you if it hadn’t got burned to a crisp.”

The yellow pony smiled and mouthed the words “Thank You” to Ernest.

Climbing back off the table, Ernest strolled over to Pinkie Pie and asked, “Any other questions?”

“That was the greatest thing I’ve ever heard,” Pinkie said tearfully.

After the hoof wrestling contest, the strange pony from Briarville was the toast of the bakery. Nopony had ever bested a minotaur at hoof wrestling in ages. For the next few hours, Ernest partied like he rarely had before, striking up many friendships in the process. At Pinkie’s request, Ernest awkwardly joined the ponies in dancing. As the human danced to a beat called the navigator, Rimshot chomped his master on the foot. The beagle had been waiting for Ernest to see him for the past ten minutes.

“Ow! Oh, Hi Rimshot. You having a good time?” Ernest asked as he continued to flail his arms and legs. “I thought you were playing with Fluttershy.”

The dog shook his head and yipped a few times.

“It’s twilight already? We haven’t been here that long, have we?” Ernest looked up at a clock. “See, it’s only two.”

Rimshot put a paw over his face in frustration and barked more slowly.

Ernest stopped dancing. Another pony nearly crashed into him as a result. “Sorry, big fella, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Eyup,” Big Mac growled as the human slipped away from the dance floor.

Ernest knelt down to Rimshot and whispered, “Okay, what’s wrong with Twilight?”

After Rimshot gave several rapid woofs and yips, Ernest replied, “Well, how was I supposed to know that was a piece of mail?”

The beagle gave a soft growl.

“I know, I know . . . but what do I tell her?”

Before Rimshot could answer, his owner held up a hand. “Never mind. It shouldn’t be too hard to talk a Princess out a funk. After all, I am Ernest P. Worrell, counselor of the crowned, coach of the crushed, and . . . what’s another job that begins with c?”

At this point Rimshot bit him again.

“Ow, ow! Okay, I’m going. You’re pretty mean for such a small dog.”

Twilight sighed to herself as she watched the other ponies dancing from her almost vacant table. She would have joined in, but ever since Ernest had read that private letter from Princess Celestia in front of everypony . . . Seated across from her was Spike. He was trying hopelessly to repair the hole he had burned in the center of Ernest’s hat with a piece of floss and a napkin. The alicorn looked over at her assistant and smiled sadly. “Well, Spike, you get an A for effort, but I think I would let Rarity look at it.”

Spike looked at his handy work. “I don’t know. I think it looks better than before.” He didn’t sound convinced though. Spike set the hat aside and looked up at the Princess. “Why don’t you go ahead and join in, Twilight? You love this dance.”

The pony shook her head. “No thanks, Spike. I don’t feel like it. I’m just ready for this party to be over with. I had enough for one day.” Before Spike could react, she put her head down on the table and covered her face with her hooves. She sat there for a few moments until she heard that irritatingly familiar voice.

“You’re tired too, huh? I don’t blame ya. I haven’t partied like this since Vern had that Thanksgiving shindig back in eighty-five. I wonder if he’s still sore with me for catapulting a root beer filled pumpkin through his bedroom window.”

Twilight sat up quickly and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, Ernest, uh. . . how are you? Are you having fun?”

Ernest grinned at the Princess. “Well . . . I haven’t been kicked out, so it’s better than way over half the parties I’ve been to.” Looking down at his old burnt hat Ernest’s eyes grew huge in wonder as he picked it up.

“Wow, Princess, I didn’t know you could sew. This looks amazing! The elaborate stitching, the superb texture, it’s . . . it’s . . .”

“It’s Spike’s work, not mine,” Twilight finished.

Ernest winced as he turned to the baby dragon. “Great job, Spike. Keep this up, and you’ll be rolling in the dough.”

Spike scratched Rimshot behind the ears and beamed proudly at Ernest.

“Hey, Spike. Could you do me a favor?” Ernest asked.

“Sure.”

“Could you show Rimshot where the restroom is? It’s about time for him to do his dog business.”

Surprised, Spike looked at the beagle. “He can use a bathroom?”

Ernest nodded. “Oh, yeah . . . but he needs help washing his paws when he’s done.”

The dragon’s face darkened. He was about to ask why Rimshot just couldn’t go outside, but the dog started to whimper as he looked at Spike pleadingly.

The little dragon sighed. “Oh, okay. But only because it’s your party day.” Turning to the beagle, Spike said, “Come on, boy, let’s go.”

As the dragon and dog left the bakery, Ernest turned his attention back to the Princess. “Is this seat taken, your highness?”

Twilight shook her head, amused at the human’s painfully awkward social skills.

As the Troll Fighter sat down, he realized that he had no clue what to say to the alicorn to make her feel better.

Noticing that Ernest was staring blankly into space, Twilight asked, “What’s on your mind?”

The human blinked. “Wait a second; I’m supposed to ask you that. How did you know I was going to say that? Can you read minds too, Princess?”

“No, Ernest, I can’t read your mind,” Twilight said patiently.

Ernest nodded. “I wish you could. It would be easier to tell you how sorry I am. I didn’t mean to make you look bad earlier in front of all your subjects. I did the same thing back in school when my fourth grade English teacher made me read a love note I was composing in class. The girl beat me up after school. Um. . . well, I’d understand if you want to do the same. Would a punch make you feel better? Just don’t mess up my face too bad.”

Twilight leaned back in her seat, “I’m not going to hit you. It wasn’t your fault. Princess Celestia and Princess Luna both rule Equestria. They bring up the sun and moon and have royal duties that are very important. I’m a Princess too, but the only thing I’m in charge of is the library here in town. I’ve saved both their royal hind quarters on more than one occasion, and all I get for it is a pair of wings and a title. I mean, I love the wings. But, I have no royal duties, no real subjects, and virtually no respect for being a Princess.” Giving a slight sigh, she continued, “And now on top of all that, I am the Princess of Panicking Over Ordinary Problems. I am the POOP Princess.”

Ernest looked at the Princess thoughtfully when she finished speaking. “You know, your highness, it has been my experience that the ordinary problems are the ones that need the most attention, especially if you’re a janitor. One moment you’re trying to get a vacuum cleaner to work, and the next thing you know, you’re being chased by filing cabinets that want to run you over.”

Twilight laughed, “Someday, you’re going to have to tell me how that happened.”

Ernest shuddered, “It’s a long story that involves a lot of electricity.” Capitalizing on making the pony laugh, the garbage man continued, “Princess, I know how you feel. I’ve been there. I’ve seen the movie and bought the T-shirt. Take it from me, things will get better.” The human smiled. “I mean look at me. I was a janitor at a bank, but then I got a job as a sanitation engineer for an entire town . . . before I got fired.”

The alicorn smiled a little at that.

“And besides . . .” Ernest continued, “At the end of the day, you still have your friends. And this old Troll Fighter would be honored to be counted as one of them.”

Twilight got out of her seat and gave Ernest a hug. “Thank you. Thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Did it work? Cause I can keep trying. Old Granpappy Worrell once said, ‘Never leave a blue pony down.’”

Letting go of Ernest, Twilight asked, “Did he really say that?”

“Yeah, he was asleep when he said it, but I understand what he meant now."

Gotcha

“What a stupid place to put a magic tree,” Rotnart muttered to himself as he climbed a stone staircase carved into a cliff. He wiped the sweat from his huge forehead. “It’s in the middle of a damn hole.”

An unpleasant, high-pitched, squeaky voice answered him. “You got a point there, boss. I don’t like trees either. You never know what the filthy things are thinking about. They could be plotting to feast on our entrails or something.”

This made Rotnart stop in his tracks and turn around. He had been enduring his younger brother’s weird utterings ever since he was born, but that was bizarre even for him.

“Rabuf, do you know what a tree is?”

“Uh, yeah,” Rabuf replied. “They’re blue hairy things that hide in gopher holes. They only come out when you’re taking a piss.”

“Oh, #$&!” the troll king exclaimed as he pinched the bridge of his huge nose.

“Did I get it right?” the younger troll asked hopefully.

Rotnart nodded and continued up the steps. It was simply easier to agree with the younger troll. After all, he couldn’t get much worse than this, could he?

“Rabuf, if I decided to push you off, would you live?” Rotnart grumbled.

Rabuf looked down the six-story drop below them. After picking his nose in thought, he declared, “Yeah, I definitely would.”

“Figures,” Rotnart muttered to himself.

Minutes later, the two reached the top of the cliff and looked about. They were still in a forest, although the fog that surrounded them was new.

“Where in the hell are we?” the troll king asked airily. The older troll regretted not asking Discord that question while they were playing that dumb game.

“Don’t know. Maybe we can ask directions from that pile of rocks,” Rabuf answered, pointing into the forest.

“Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you,” the older troll said angrily.

“No, really, boss, there’s a huge pile of rocks over there. I bet it knows where we are.”

“I said shut up!”

“Maybe it knows how to read,” Rabuf said thoughtfully. “I bet if you ask nicely, the rock pile could read that book of yours.”

The troll king balled his fists in rage. Beyond the mist lay the ruins of an enormous ancient castle. In order to reach the castle, the trolls would have to cross a rickety old rope bridge. Having nowhere else to go, Rotnart pointed at the rope bridge. “You first, Rabuf.”

Rabuf grinned crookedly, “Aye-aye, boss.” With that, the troll took off at a sprint across the bridge.

The elder troll screamed after him, “Slow down, for %#*@ sake!”

Ignoring the command, the lighter troll barreled across. The bridge groaned and swayed in protest but miraculously supported the troll’s weight.

Rabuf looked back and shouted, “Come on, boss! The last one to the rock pile is slow!”

Ignoring his younger brother, Rotnart swallowed nervously and took his first step onto the bridge. The wooden plank creaked ominously.

“I hate milk, humans, Ernest, thorn bushes, Discord, Rabuf, and this bridge,” he muttered as he slowly but surely made his way across. When he was halfway across, the bridge started to shake. Scared out his mind, Rotnart grabbed the rope support and held on for dear life. Seconds later, the movement and shaking stopped. The troll king took a few cautious steps forward, and the vibrations started again. As Rotnart screwed his eyes shut, he heard laughing at the other end of the bridge.

“I swear to Trantor, I’m gonna kill you!”” Rotnart screamed to his sibling who was lazily pulling on the ropes of the bridge.

“Come on, boss, stop fooling around. I’m bored,” Rubuf said lazily as he began to jump up and down on the bridge.

Rage spurring him forward, Rotnart began to muse about how to properly dispose of his brother for this indignity.

“Hey, boss, I see a thing,” Rabuf said suddenly. “I’m gonna check it out.”

Rotnart roared back, “No! Stay put you coward, and take what’s coming to ya!”

After thanking the evil demons for not letting him die, due to his brother’s stupidity, the older troll drew his sword and looked around for his sibling.

“Rabuf, where are you?” No answer. Bearing his green and brown teeth in a snarl, Rotnart cleaved through a thick sapling like a hot knife through butter. This did little to relieve his burning frustration. He was not only mad at his brother, but at himself as well. For the past twelve hours he had tried everything he could think of to turn that blasted tree of harmony into something much more heinous. Oh sure, if he had a couple of hundred years and nothing better to do, he could warp the tree like his father had done in Briarville. But who had that kind of time? Deep down in his gut, the troll king knew that the answer to all his problems could be found in his book . . . which he couldn’t read.

Not wanting to dwell on this depressing fact, he turned his attention back to the present. Rotnart sheathed his sword and and wondered if Rabuf had already gone into the ruins. As he pondered this, he heard a great crash from inside.

“Yep, the idiot’s in there,” declared the troll.

Rotnart was amazed as he entered the castle. It seemed to be much bigger on the inside. Everywhere he looked there were pictures, banners, and statues of horses in clothing.

“What the hell?” he muttered.

One particular painting caught his eye, and he walked closer to get a better look. It seemed familiar to him somehow. Rotnart set down his bag and rummaged through it until he pulled out Discord’s note pad. He flipped to the page where the freak had been drawing a crowned, winged horse with a huge sun on its butt. Sure enough, the two horses were identical, except the one in the painting didn’t look like a slut. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, something strange happened. Where the crowned horse had been staring majestically into the distance with its large eyes, now those eyes blinked and looked right at him.

“AAAAAHH!” the king of the trolls screamed and jumped backward. Rotnart landed on a stone tile that shifted beneath him. He heard a clicking noise and SPROING!

Rotnart was launched straight up into the air. He screamed as his enormous head smashed into the stone ceiling, leaving spider-web cracks. He plummeted back down, landing on the floor in a heap. A stone chunk of the ceiling broke away and fell squarely on his groin. Every single inch of his body throbbed in agonizing pain. Rotnart could have sworn he saw the horse portrait wince in sympathy.

“Boss? Boss, are you okay?”

Rotnart opened his eyes. What met his gaze was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. Before Rotnart could scream his lungs out, he recognized the face of his brother.

“Did a tree get ya?” Rabuf asked. “A tree got ya, didn’t it?”

“What? No. A *^$%ing rock fell on my balls, you moron.” The older troll grunted as Rabuf helped him to his feet.

Rabuf nodded, still talking about trees. “Gotta watch out for those little bastards. They come up right underneath ya and bite you on the . . .”

“For the love of Evil Demons, shut up.” Rotnart interrupted as he pushed his brother away.

He took several deep breaths. His crotch felt like several mules had taken turns kicking it. The older troll tried walking, but he could only do so with his legs spread widely apart, and each step made him want to puke.

Rotnart asked, wincing, “Where have you been?”

Before Rabuf could answer, Rotnart held up his hand. “Never mind. I wouldn’t understand one bit of it.”

As the older troll stooped to pick up his bag, he glanced at the winged horse painting. Sure enough, its eyes were looking at a different place than before. The horse seemed to be gazing at something behind the two trolls.

Pointing at the picture, the troll king declared, “That thing’s eyes move.”

Rabuf gazed at the painting contemplatively. He closed his eyes and opened them. He did this a few more times before putting his hands over his face so he could not see. He repeated this action several times. “Great Googlily Moogily, boss, you’re right. No matter what I do, it’s still looking at me.”

Rotnart sighed and slowly dragged his hand over his face. With all the patience he could muster, the troll king replied, “The horse ain’t looking at you. It’s looking at something . . .” Rotnart gaped at the painting. He followed the horse’s gaze and found himself looking at a suit of horse armor.

The troll king hit his brother. “Stand by that tin can over there.”

“Right, boss, where is it?” Rabuf asked as he searched the ceiling for the object.

Rotnart grabbed his brother by the nose, pulled his face down, and pointed.

“Oh, there it is. Why does it have four legs? Is it made for a war opossum? ”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s made for opossums,” Rotnart replied as he wiped his snot drenched hand on his brother’s shirt. “Just go over there and play with it. See what happens.”

“Goodie, goodie, goodie!” Rabuf tittered as he gleefully began to tear into the armor and eat it. As he was doing this, Rotnart glanced at the painting. The troll king was curious if the horse in the picture would react. The white horse, however, continued to stare at the now decimated suit of armor with no reaction.

“Hey, boss. Buuuuuuuurrrrrrp! ‘Scuse me. I found something in the opossum armor.”

Surprised, Rotnart waddled over. While Rabulf picked splinters of plate mail from his teeth, he held up a rolled up scroll in-between spit-covered fingers. Snatching the parchment from his siblings clutches, the troll king broke the black wax seal and began to read. It had but one word written in dark ink that covered the entire parchment.

Gotcha

Rotnart whirled to face the painting. The winged, white horse was looking right at him with a grin that made the blood in his veins freeze. Before Rotnart could shout a warning to his brother, he heard a single note from a pipe organ, and his world began to spin. The troll king fought to keep his enormous lunch of grass and rocks down as his stomach tried to keep up with the rest of his body. Shaking his head, the troll found himself in a hall filled with more horse armor.

“No!” The troll king yelled as he pounded the wall with his fists.

“What’s the matter, boss?” Rabuf asked in-between mouthfuls of plate mail.

“My pack! It’s right there in the middle of this demon’s damned castle. Anybody can waltz right up to that bag and pick it up.”

“Well, it should be fine then.”

Rotnart turned around and glared down at his brother. “What do you mean?”

After finishing the last of the armor, Rabuf stood up. “I don’t think that many people know how to waltz. I only know how to polka.”

That was the last straw. Something snapped in Rotnart’s mind as he said quietly, “Rabuf, close your eyes. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For me? You’re the best, boss!” the younger troll exclaimed happily as he shut his eyes.

Drawing his sword from his sheath, Rotnart aimed a blow at his brother’s head like he was about to split a ripe watermelon. Right as he was about to deliver his killing strike, the pipe organ began to play again. The older troll frowned. Should he kill Rabuf now or go see who was strangling the cat and then kill Rabuf?

“Decisions, decisions,” Rotnart muttered to himself as he mulled the choices in his head.

“Boss? Boss, where’s my present?”

Rabuf’s question jarred Rotnart out of his musing. Making his choice, Rotnart sheathed his sword. “Come on, I’ll kill--I mean, I’ll give you your present later.”

The pair followed the haunting music until they entered a new hall filled with mounted horse hooves. Both trolls stared at the grizzly trophies while the organ continued to play.

“Somebody really likes opossum feet.”

“Don’t touch em,” growled Rotnart as the pair advanced down the passage. The duo cautiously walked down the hall of hooves until they reached a dead end. Pressing his hands against the solid wall, Rotnart fumed in frustration as the direction of the music changed. It now sounded like the noise was coming from beneath them.

“What in the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” Rotnart asked angrily.

Rabuf pressed his ear to the wall. “I don’t think he heard ya, boss. Let me try.”

Clearing his throat, the younger troll screamed at the stones, “What in the hell have we gotten ourselves into?!”

The pipe organ stopped playing. The two trolls froze, afraid to breathe, let alone move. A single note blared from the pipe instrument, scaring the two trolls half to death. Behind them, a section of stone floor retracted to reveal a slide that led into darkness.

Rotnart pushed aside his brother. “What the hell, it’s my turn to go first anyway.”

With that, Rotnart dove head first down the hole. Immediately the troll king regretted his hasty decision as he plummeted down unbelievably fast. Worse, it was pitch black. He screamed as he made loop loop-de-loops, U turns, and pitfalls onto other slides. He went deeper into the bowels of the castle until the slide angled upwards and ended abruptly. Rotnart went flying off the slide and found himself tumbling across something relatively soft. The troll’s heart thundered in his ears as he shakily got to his feet and looked around. He was in a vast chamber surrounded by royal purple tapestries. In the center of the room was a huge pipe organ, flanked by two statues of pegasus. But what truly captured the troll’s attention was a cloaked figure sitting on the organ bench.

Without turning, the figure spoke in a feminine voice. “I wouldn’t stand there if I were you.”

The warning came too late. Rotnart was slammed from behind by his laughing brother.

Rabuf giggled, “Best! Ride! Ever!” He turned to the stranger. “Hey, did you see my brother come down here? He’s short, grumpy, and can’t read.” Hearing very angry grunts and swearing from underneath him, Rabuf got off his sibling. “Never mind, I found him.”

The humiliated king of trolls scrambled to his feet and drew his sword. “I swear to Trantor, I’m gonna make you eat your own balls when I catch you!”

Rabuf dodged a swipe from his brother. “Now, boss, I know you’re sensitive about that book, but you got to let it go. I mean just because you can’t read doesn’t make you any less of a troll.”

“I $&#*ing hate you!” Rotnart screamed as he threw a rock at his brother. The missile missed its intended target and landed on several organ keys, making a blood curdling sound.

“ENOUGH!” the cloaked figure commanded.

Both trolls froze like grotesque manikins as they slowly turned their heads toward the organ. A black aura surrounded the cloaked figure as it floated ominously. The hair on the back of Rotnart’s neck stood up as the creature got closer. Trembling, the older troll pointed his sword at the hooded creature. “You don’t command me, cretin. I am Rotnart, heir to the throne of Trantor Double Nose.”

The hooded creature laughed. In the blink of an eye the cloak disappeared, and a huge dark mare stood before them. Garbed in midnight blue plate mail and grinning with more sharp teeth than a horse should have, it towered over the two brothers. The winged unicorn was terrible and beautiful to behold with its starry mane and black spheres for eyes. The troll king stared at the equine figure in uncontained terror. His sword dropped from his limp fingers. He could not tear his eyes from the ebony orbs that stared back at him.

The horn in the center of the monster’s head began to glow with purple and green energy as she asked, “Why are you here? And why shouldn’t I kill you?”

Before Rotnart could stammer out a response, Rabuf got down on one knee and answered, “My brother and I are here to give you our tongues, oh great black opossum of the under castle.”

The black alicorn blinked. “What?”

Picking up on his brother’s garbled line of thinking, the older troll chimed in, “What he means, dark one, is that we have come a great distance to serve you.”

The pony didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead the alicorn lowered her head and a beam of magic shot forth from her horn, entering the minds of the two trolls.

Moments later, after blinking away the after images of the blinding light, Rotnart heard the black pony say in a surprised voice, “No, I don’t believe it.”

Rabuf clutched his head, “Boss! Boss! Did she read my mind with magic? Oh my gosh, she can read!”

The pony rushed over to the organ and pressed a series of keys. A hole appeared in the ceiling, and Rotnart’s pack fell to the floor. The dark pony levitated the wooden Discord doll out of the bag. Her eyes widened. “So it’s true. You did turn him into a statue.” She laughed a little. “It seems destined for him to be frozen in some form or another.”

Puffing up his chest Rotnart declared, “Yeah, I turned him into a doll, and I’ll do the same to you if you don’t let us out of here.”

Without even turning around, the pony hit another key on the organ. An entire wall of the castle slid away to reveal all kinds of food stuffs, including shelf upon shelf of canned and powdered milk.

While still examining the statue, the pony asked, “You were saying?”

The troll king turned as white as the milk he was staring at. “I, uh, said I can do the same thing to your enemies, oh dark one.”

“Alright, milk! Boy am I thirsty,” Rabuf declared happily as he jogged towards the pantry.

“Rabuf, don’t drink the white stuff!” Rotnart yelled at his brother.

Stopping in the midst of upending an entire jar of milk into his mouth, Rabuf moaned, “Aw, boss, you’re never any fun. . .”

“Just drink the crap next to it.”

Rabuf obeyed and began drinking jar after jar of vinegar.

The alicorn glanced at the younger troll. “He’s a few phases short of a full moon, isn’t he?”

“You have no idea,” Rotnart replied, as Rabuf began to eat the glass jars.

“I’ll make a deal with you, troll,” the alicorn hissed. “In exchange for not killing you, you must get rid of six particular ponies for me.”

The troll king grimaced. “Oh great, there’s more of you? How many %^*#ing horses are there?”

In response, the alicorn shot another lance of magic at the two trolls. Their minds were filled with a multitude of images and information about the world they were in. Rotnart staggered under the weight of knowledge that the pony had given him. “Holy crap.” He looked at the alicorn with new respect.

Rabuf said, “Oh, wow. Ponies eat a lot of cake.”

“Yes, and I recommend you corrupt the Tree of Harmony fully before you attempt to take on the six,” the alicorn replied.

Rotnart pursed his huge lips together as he mumbled something incoherently.

“What did you say?” the Pony of Shadows asked.

The troll took a deep breath and tried again, but he could not force the words out of his mouth.

“What? Spit it out!” she ordered.

Rabuf let out a huge belch and declared, “He still can’t read the book that tells him how to do that.”

Rotnart closed his eyes and nodded his head in shame.

The Pony of Shadows levitated the book out of Rotnart’s bag and flipped through it. Frowning, she turned the book upside down. After flipping through a few more pages, she handed the book to Rotnart. “Try reading the book right side up. It helps.”

Rabuf roared with laughter and wet himself as Rotnart turned several shades of scarlet.

In-between gales of laughter, the younger troll howled, “Oh sweet Trantor. That’s funny. Even a dummy like me could have figured that one out.”

“Shut up,” the older troll commanded. “You probably would have just ate the damn thing before looking at it.”

“Naw, I’d just use it for poo paper,” replied the younger troll happily.

Ignoring his brother, Rotnart cracked open the book and began skimming pages that used to be illegible. Satisfied, he snapped the book closed. “I accept your proposal.” Rotnart held out his hand to seal the deal.

She glared at the troll. “You’re lucky that I’m letting you keep those filthy things.”

Rotnart quickly withdrew his hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

The alicorn walked back to the organ and played a particularly horrifying note that made the troll king’s skin crawl. A tunnel opened behind him.

As the trolls made to leave, the Pony of Shadows called out, “Remember our agreement, troll. If you do not keep your end of the bargain, you can be assured of your swift end. I left a spell in both your minds should you fail me.”

Sweating, Rotnart turned. “Don’t worry. Those six are as good as wood now that I can read my book. And when I’m through with them, I’ll come for you.” Rotnart smiled as he mumbled that last sentence to himself.

Hoo Boy, You're Gonna Get It

“From the innocence of five, an evil army shall arise. When blossoms shower down like rain, my dark kingdom shall come again. There is one who can stop me if he will dare, with the heart of a child and a mother’s care.”

The words sent a shudder down Twilight’s back as she read Ernest’s book. She noticed Ernest was squirming in the chair he was occupying. Even Rimshot looked uneasy.

“I’m sorry, Ernest. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ernest waved off the apology. “It’ll take more than a dusty old prophecy to scare Ernest P. Worrell. Besides, that problem is over and done with. It is finished, Kaput, dead and buried. You could stick a fork in it and serve it for dinner. You know what I mean?”

“Hoo.”

Ernest grabbed Rimshot and hugged him to his chest. “What was that?”

Twilight stifled a laugh. “That’s Owlicious, Spike’s assistant, here at the library.”

Ernest looked to where the alicorn was pointing and saw an owl perched on a telescope. Ernest set Rimshot down and strolled over to the owl. He offered his hand in greeting.

“Howdy, friend. My name is Ernest. Ernest P. Worrell.”

“Hoo,” came the reply.

“Hey, you’re right. I do have a cousin down in the Everglades named Hoo. Well, it’s not his real name, more like a nickname. My uncle, Dingas Worrell, always said, ‘Hoo, boy, you’re gonna get it’ whenever my cousin got into trouble. My cousin got into trouble a lot.”

Owlicious blinked.

“Where’re you from?” the human asked.

“Hoo.”

“Hoo, Missouri? Hoo, Idaho? No, no, don’t tell me, you’re from Hoo Sonora, aren’t ya? You have a deep, deep South look to ya. You know what I mean?”

Rimshot barked up at his master, unable to take anymore.

The Troll Fighter glanced at his dog. “What do you mean that’s all he can say? If you give me a second, I’ll get his address, and we can be pen pals.”

Shaking her head in amusement, Twilight chimed in. “Actually, Ernest, Rimshot is right. He doesn’t speak our language.”

“I thought he was holding his o’s a bit long,” Ernest muttered to himself.

He looked around the room. An exquisitely crafted telescope gleamed near the window.

“Wow, Rimshot, take a look at this. I bet you could see the man in the moon from here if ya knew where to look.”

“Oh, be my guest,” Twilight said cheerfully. She kept her back to Ernest, engrossed in the book. “The adjustment knob can stick sometimes. Just wiggle it gently.”

“Excuse me, Owldelicious. Do you have any recommendations on where to point this thing?”

Ernest looked through the eyepiece. “Hmm, all I see is this black blob everywhere.”

Rimshot yipped.

“Of course, I know the lens cover is still on. I was just practicing.”

Rimshot rolled his eyes.

After taking off the lens cap, Ernest panned the telescope around from point to point as enthusiastically as a child. “This is great. Hey, there’s the Apple Farm! I wonder if I can see my truck from here?” Ernest tried to turn the magnification knob, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Hey, Ernest?” Twilight called over her shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, your highness?”

“Where did Trantor come from? This book doesn’t really talk about his origins.”

The Troll Fighter answered as he put more torque on the knob. “Well, Granpappy Worrell talked some about that when I wore smaller clothes. He said the troll followed the first settlers of Briarville from a place called The Old World.”

SNAP!

Ernest’s mouth dropped in horror as the knob broke off in his hand. He whirled around, wondering if Twilight had heard. The alicorn’s ears perked up. She turned her head toward the human, a concerned look on her face. Before she could ask if something was wrong, Ernest continued in a hurried voice, “I can’t find that place on a map anywhere though. You wouldn’t know where The Old World is, would you, your highness?”

Twilight put her hoof to her chin in thought. “Maybe. That name sounds familiar.” Smiling gleefully, she said, “I have a detailed map of Equestria. Let me dig that out, and we’ll both take a look at it. I’ll be right back.”

As the Princess trotted up a spiral staircase, Ernest turned his attention back to the telescope. “Oh, no. You think she’s gonna notice this, Rimshot?”

“Hoo!”

Ernest looked up at Owlicious who was nodding vigourously.

“Hey, can you help us out?” Ernest turned and his arm connected with the telescope. To his utter horror, the big lens popped out and shattered on the floor.

The owl’s eyes grew three times their normal size. “HOO-OOO!”

“Shh!” Ernest tried to quiet the now hysterical owl. “I can fix it. Where’s a blow torch?” Ernest whispered loudly.

The owl shook his head and continued to shout, flying up the spiral staircase.

“Ernest? Is everything alright down there? I thought I heard something break,” Twilight called.

“Uh, no, no! Everything is mostly solid down here. Take your time!”

At that moment, the door to the library opened, and a baby dragon waddled inside with a beautifully wrapped present. “Hi, Ernest, where’s--what did you do!?” Spike asked pointing at the broken telescope.

“I don’t know what happened!” Ernest insisted. “I just turned the knob a teeny bit, and the next thing I knew, it fell apart.”

Spike ignored him. “Oh no, this is bad! If she finds out that you broke one of her telescopes, you won’t get ice cream for a month.”

Ernest covered his mouth in shock. “A fate worse than death itself. We can’t let that happen. We’ve got to hide it.”

Spike nodded, and without another word, the dragon and human began to move the telescope. Hearing hoof falls on wooden stairs, Rimshot barked a warning to the movers.

“She’s coming,” Ernest said panicking.

“Quick, hand me that blanket. Thank Celestia I haven’t done the laundry yet.”

No sooner had they covered the stargazing instrument, Twilight reached the bottom of the stairs levitating a huge map.

“Hi, Spike. I didn’t hear you come in. Something is bothering Owlicious.”

Landing back on his perch, the owl hooted nosily and pointed at the telescope with both his wings. Twilight followed the owl’s gaze.

“Why is my Cumulus 34 hundred wrapped in a blanket?”

Trying desperately to block her view, Ernest and Spike stood their ground nervously. The Troll Fighter answered first.

“So it won’t catch a cold.”

Spike stomped on the human’s foot, which elicited a stifled yelp of pain. “What he means is, he’s was done using your Cumulus . . . whatever, so I decided to cover it up. Hate to get dust on it.”

Twilight smiled at her assistant. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Spike, but you know that the telescope dust covers are in the closet. Take that blanket off and use one of those.”

Spike started to sweat as the Princess waited for her Spike to uncover the Cumulus. Ernest looked up and noticed that the owl was grinning maliciously at the baby dragon and his predicament. Coming to Spike’s aid, Ernest pointed at the map Twilight was holding. “Hey, is that the map you were looking for?”

Twilight turned her attention to the floating scroll. “Yes, it is. Let’s take a look at it. I’ve been dying to use this scroll for weeks.”

From above them, Ernest heard the owl slap a wing across his feathery forehead in frustration. As the alicorn cleared a large table of books and lab equipment, Spike quietly got a Twilight sanctioned dust cover from the closet. He was waiting for the right moment to replace the blanket without Twilight noticing. Using her magic, the Princess unrolled the large scroll.

“Holy Moley.” Ernest gaped at the enormous, extremely detailed map of Equestria . “I’d hate to find Waldo on this thing.”

A magnifying glass floated over to the human. “Come on. This will be fun!”

Turning toward Spike, Ernest gave him the thumbs up sign, and the baby dragon began to delicately take the blanket off the telescope.

After an hour of staring at the map, Ernest had trouble keeping his eyes open. He glanced over at Spike who was snoring by the telescope using the blanket as a pillow. Turning his attention back to the map, Ernest was about to fall asleep himself. Then he saw something that made him sit upright in his chair.

“Found it!” Ernest yelled.

Spike’s leapt up in fright at the sudden shout. He lost his balance and fell against the Cumulus telescope. A heart-wrenching crash filled the air as the telescope hit the ground.

In an instant Twilight teleported to Spike’s side. “Spike, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Twilight. I’m real sorry about the Cumulus though.”

“I don’t care about the telescope, Spike,” she chided. “It’s a replica. It only cost me a few bits at the Canterlot gift store.”

Ernest and Spike looked at each other in surprise. Then they both started laughing hysterically. Even Rimshot and Owlicious were hooting and barking with mirth.

“What’s so funny?” asked Twilight.

Recovering enough oxygen to speak, Spike pointed at Ernest. “He broke the telescope before I did."

The alicorn sniffed in disapproval. “I thought so.”

The Troll Fighter instantly sobered. “I didn’t mean to, Princess. It was an accident. I just turned that knob a little bit and . . .”

“Ernest,” Twilight started to say.

“And then these huge ninja turtles came out of nowhere . . .”

“Ernest.”

“I tried to fend them off with my hip-hop-kido training, but there were too many of them, and they--”

“ERNEST!” Twilight screamed.

The human cringed at the alicorn’s voice.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you broke it in the first place? I can repair it easily.”

Ashamed, Ernest looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but when Spike told me I wouldn’t get any ice cream for a month, I kind of panicked.”

“What?” Twilight asked as she turned her glare on Spike.

“Whoops. Or maybe it was just for the day,” the baby dragon said sheepishly.

“You boys are so alike,” Twilight sighed. “Next time either of you break something, just tell me.”

The human and dragon nodded solemnly.

“Show me what you found, Ernest,” Twilight said.

Ernest pointed to a very tiny dot on the map that was well north of the Crystal Empire.

“Fascinating,” Twilight murmured. “If I remember my studies in Princess Celestia’s Equestrian Ancient History class, she said something about an ancient troll city north of the Crystal Empire. They had their own subterranean kingdom deep beneath the snow and ice. According to legend, King Sombra corrupted the once peaceful trolls and used them to help him conquer the Crystal Empire. But when he had no further use for them, he banished them all to Tartarus.”

“So, that’s where old Squid Lips came from,” Ernest proclaimed.

“I don’t know about that, Ernest. The troll that is pictured in your book is way different from the trolls I remember studying. And if Trantor did come from our world, how did he end up in yours?”

Ernest’s eyes glazed over as his brain worked overtime to come up with possible answers. “I don’t know. Magic maybe?”

“Possibly,” she replied.

“Really? I wish I had you as a teacher during middle school. I used that answer a lot and none of my teachers liked it very much.”

The alicorn smiled from ear to ear. “Oh, this is so exciting! Just think of all the possible research we can do on this topic.”

Rubbing his eyes in weariness, Ernest said, “Well, you go ahead and get to studying, your highness. I think I’m gonna take a walk around the town and stretch my mode of locomotion. You know what I mean?”

Head buzzing with anticipation, Twilight nodded. “That’s fine. Just be sure to stay out of trouble.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone. Come on, Rimshot, let’s go for a walk.”

Wagging his tail gleefully, the beagle followed his master out the door.

“Hey, Ernest, wait!” Spike called.

Sticking his head back through the door, Ernest looked quizzically at the baby dragon.

In between the dragon’s claws was the present. “I owe you a hat,” he explained.

Ernest could not keep the utter surprise off his face as he looked at the beautifully wrapped white and purple present. Ernest was so excited he tore into the package as if it was Christmas morning. Inside the white cardboard box was a hat that was the exact make and model of his old one.

Tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

Spike grinned, “Thank Rarity. She’s the one that made you a new one. She thought about gluing the hat to your head, but I persuaded her not to do that.”

“Oh, I take it she’s still mad about me kissing her sister,” Ernest paused. “That sounds a lot worse when I say it out loud.”

“Yeah, but I convinced her to make this hat for you as a favor.”

As Ernest stood in the daylight, he put on the hat. It fit perfectly. He turned to Spike and shook his clawed hand. “Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”

The baby dragon was about to reply when violet-stitched lettering began to appear on the face of the hat as the sun hit it. I’m Stupid, it read.

“You’re Wel . . . You’re. . .” Spike could not take his eyes off the words, not believing Rarity was capable of such vengeance.

Stretching his back and legs, Ernest smiled. “Well, I’m gonna get some exercise. See ya later, alligator.” With that, Ernest took off down the road.

Recovering, Spike was about to call after him. But before he could, he felt a paw on his arm. Looking down, the baby dragon saw the dog gazing up at him. Rimshot shook his head and gave him a wink before taking off after his master.

Apple Farm Security

After leaving the library behind him, Ernest took a deep breath. “Good ole country air; they don’t make it like they used to. You know what I mean?”

Rimshot nodded in agreement as they took off down the road toward the Apple Farm. On the way, the dog and human saw several familiar pony faces from Pinkie’s party. All of them were pointing at Ernest and laughing. The Troll Fighter didn’t mind. In fact, he was enjoying the attention immensely.

“Ah, my adoring fans,” Ernest said as he waved back. “You know, Rimshot, these are some good people, even if they’re not people. I’m gonna miss this little corner of England.”

The beagle whimpered a little in reply.

Ernest looked down at his pet in sympathy. “Hey, cheer up. Maybe Princess Twilight will let us visit.”

The beagle’s tail wagged at the thought.

“Next time we gotta bring some roast beef or pork chops along. I don’t know about you, but I could use a steak.”

Rimshot gave his master a curious glance and barked.

“Yeah, I know they don’t eat meat, but that’s because I bet they’ve never had it. Trust me, they’ll come around after a good Kansas City barbecue. Remind me to ask the Princess if we can do that next time we’re here.”

Rimshot shook his head. They kept walking until they reached an apple tree covered hill that overlooked the rest of the orchards. Standing underneath the trees, Ernest took in the view. He could see the Apple family’s homestead and a tree house off in the distance. For some reason, Ernest’s eyes kept drifting back to the tree house.

The Troll Fighter picked up Rimshot. “Hey, buddy, does that look familiar?” He pointed to the tree house.

The dog yipped.

“Yep, that was our finest hour,” Ernest agreed. “It was you, me . . . even though you were turned to wood, and some scrappy kids and their parents against a whole army of trolls on Halloween night.”

The aircraft gunner in Ernest spoke suddenly. “Yeah, them troll devils were coming up the very flanks of the tree itself. There was nowhere to go. We were surrounded with nothing but milk, our guts, and a few inches of bark in-between us and them.”

The lumberjack personality chimed in. “You got it, boss. Lucky we built that tree fort so well. We was lucky we had a tree to begin with cause there aren’t any trees in Botswana. I know. I am a Botswananian lumberjack and ain’t ever had a job.”

“Trees and forts are for sissies who aren’t man enough to get slaughtered by us, the Ottomans. I was rooting for the trolls the entire time.”

By this point Rimshot had jumped down from his master’s arms. He had a feeling that it was high time for his owner to give voice to his other personalities. They hadn’t talked for a while. The beagle was very thankful that this did not happen at the party. That would have looked bad.

“Are you crazy? Forts are great. Pillow forts, chocolate forts, cotton forts. You can fort anything.”

Rimshot paused as he was looking around. That didn’t sound like his master.

“Oh, I agree totally, honey. You can’t go wrong with a chocolate fort smothered in caramel sauce. By the way, who does your mane? It’s just sooooo gorgeous.”

The beagle whirled around to see Pinkie Pie balancing an apple basket on her head. Currently she was talking to the hair dresser side of Ernest.

“Nopony does my mane. I just comb it with pink frosting everyday, and it keeps it nice, pink, and tasty,” Pinkie replied as she began to suck on her own hair.

Ernest’s girlish demeanor vanished as he said in Aunty Nelda’s voice, “Pink frosting you say? That’s the problem with you children today. You don’t know how good you have it. Fifty years ago during the depression, we couldn’t afford frosting to comb our hair with. Back then you were lucky you weren’t selling your hair to wig factories. When I was your age we were lucky to comb our make-believe hair with mud. And by Jove, we were happy to do it.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s true!” Pinkie exclaimed. “Granny Smith says the same thing. I thought those were just stories.”

Rimshot was watching the two interact in amazement. This was the first animal or human to take Ernest’s multiple personality condition so well.

Without skipping a beat, Ernest (the regular Ernest) asked the pink pony, “Why do you have an apple basket on your head?”

“I’m just helping Applejack harvest apples for the day. The Apple family is gearing up for their apple cider festival after Nightmare Night. Every pony looooves apples!”

“Do you need some help?” Ernest offered.

“Naw, I think we got it.” A thought occurred to Pinkie just then, and she gave the human an appraising glare. “Hey, what are you doing, buster? Did Rainbow Dash send you out here to spy on us? You can tell her that she’ll get her cider when everypony else does.”

Ernest backed up against the tree. “I swear, I don’t know anything about cider. I- I didn’t even know you could make cider out of apples. I thought the cider fairy made it and gave you some whenever you left an apple core under your pillow.”

Pinkie’s eyes lit up happily. “Hmmmm, I never thought about trying that, but if that works for cakes, why not apples?” A few seconds later she started to vibrate, then stopped just as abruptly. “I believe you, Ernest, but my Pinkie sense tells me I should send you to Apple Farm Security just in case you’re a Rainbow spy.” The pony’s eyes shifted conspicuously. “Rainbow has spies everywhere.”

The human puffed up his chest as his Julius Caesar personality. “A spy is a petty coward who is afraid of the light of justice. I have nothing to fear but trolls, Ottomans, and piñatas. Tell me, citizen, where is this farm security so that I may prove my obvious innocence?”

Pinkie turned around and pointed to the tree house.

“Of course, the high ground,” Ernest continued in his Roman voice. As he began to walk toward his objective, he said to Rimshot, “Come my faithful legionnaire, we make for yon tree bastion.”

The pink mare waved. “See ya later, Ernest. Tell the Cutie Mark Crusaders I said Hi.”

This snapped Ernest out of his current personality quicker than a bucket of cold water to the face. He pivoted on his heel.

“The who?” he asked. But he was too late. Pinkie Pie was already bounding down the road to the apple farm.

Looking down at his dog, Ernest shrugged his shoulders and kept on walking. As the garbage man and Rimshot came closer to the tree house, Ernest began to notice a few eerie things. It looked like the tree fort had been under siege, and the defenders had lost. Several holes had been blown into the fort’s walls and roof, and all of the windows had their glass shattered.

Ernest paused to take this in. “Maybe they’re decorating for Halloween, er, I mean Nightmare Night,” he pondered aloud. But he didn’t believe his own words. If the fort had been assaulted then, it had happened recently. The scorch marks all along the edifice of the building were very fresh. Something was wrong.

The human swallowed nervously and kept going, but his senses screamed at him to turn around. He knew he couldn’t do that. He had to find out what had happened and if he could help. Ernest found himself walking up the ramp to the club house door. Rimshot whimpered as Ernest raised his arm to knock.

The human put on a brave face and laughed. “Eh-heh-heh-heh. Come on, boy, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s just a tree house. I mean, it’s not like there are trolls or anything hiding inside.”

Before the beagle could reply, Ernest rapped his knuckles on the door. He did this once, twice, and on the third time, a lance of moss-colored energy exploded from inside, just above his fingers. The hole in the door was three times as big as Worrell’s fist.

Panicking, the Troll Fighter yelled, “Hit the deck, Rimshot!” With that, Ernest launched himself out of the way. Unfortunately, he forgot that he had marched two stories above the ground as he plummeted to the grass below.

“WHHAAAAA------!!!!” Ernest’s scream was cut short as he landed head first in a gopher hole.

Despite the situation, Rimshot couldn’t help but snicker at his master’s predicament. If he had a camera, he would have taken a picture of Ernest’s body sticking feet first straight up a lodged arrow.

Rimshot was about to go assist him, when he heard something crash land behind him.

“Ooof. Hey, I remember you. You’re that guy’s pet, aren’t ya?” asked a voice behind Rimshot.

The beagle whirled around and recoiled in surprise. He remembered the three costumed fillies he and Ernest had run into while fixing the truck. This was one of them. But instead of sporting a troll costume, the filly now possessed a pair of wings the size of massive dinner tables. The wings looked very heavy and gangly as they spread out beside the pegasus. Despite this, the little pony was smiling and reaching out to pet him. But the beagle would have none it as he took off running away from the freakish filly.

Rimshot looked behind him. To his utter terror, the pony raised its gargantuan wings and beat them once. In an instant the pony shot skyward out of sight, then suddenly was right on top of him, despite the dog’s considerable lead.

“Gotcha!” the pony cried as she grabbed the beagle and took clumsily to the skies.

Meanwhile, a dazed and confused Ernest moaned in pain and confusion. “Hey . . . who turned out the lights?” he asked no one in particular.

He was answered by the very irate inhabitant of the gopher hole, who began to attack his head with a vengeance.

Ernest yelled again. “WHAAAAAA! Somebody get me out of here! I’m sorry! If I’d known your home was here, I’d of landed somewhere else! Stop that! It hurts!”

The Troll Fighter flailed uselessly in the air. Moments later, he felt a pair of very strong hooves wrap around his legs like a vice. One solid pull was all it took to unstick the human. After the deed was done, Ernest was dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

After prying the gopher off his face, Ernest wiped the dirt and grime away from his eyes. “Boy, am I glad to see you, Big Mac. I think someone’s in that club house armed with a laser cannon or at least a Dr. Death emerald flame thrower.”

“Eyup, ” came the terse reply.

As Ernest climbed to his feet, he fixed his gaze on the tree fort. “This isn’t going to be easy. He’s got the high ground, and we can’t use the ramp. He’ll be expecting that.” A plan began to form in the garbage man’s mind.

“We’re going to have to dig a tunnel up to the tree, wait until it’s dark, and then throw a scarecrow laden with termites through that window,” Ernest said pointing. “It’s the classic way to destroy a tree fort. I think the Canadian’s used it against the Egyptians at the battle of Chickamauga.” The Troll Fighter smiled. “We got him right where we want him.”

“How do ya know it’s a he up there?”

Ernest blinked and turned around to look at the pony. What he saw made him scratch his head in confusion. For some reason, Big Mac now had yellow fur and was wearing an obnoxiously large bow in his mane. “Uh, I don’t know, I just thought . . . Big Mac, why are you yellow?”

“I ain’t my brother, ya stupid moron,” replied the irate pony in a deep masculine tone.

Ernest’s eyes grew big as dinner plates. “Wow, Apple Jack. I didn’t recognize you without your hat on. You sure look different.”

The pony’s nostrils flared angrily.

From the tree house a familiar voice called down to Ernest. “Oh, for the love of Cadence, that’s Apple Bloom, not Applejack.”

Looking back up at the tree house, Ernest saw a tiny pony with an enormously long horn walking very carefully down the ramp. The horn stretched out before her so far that she was obviously struggling to keep her balance.

Ernest’s mouth dropped when he saw her. All of a sudden the huge mare in front of him and the tiny unicorn looked very familiar. “Sweetie Belle?” Ernest asked tentatively.

With all the patience she could muster, the unicorn nodded.

From above the group another voice yelled, “Look out below!”

Ernest had just enough time to turn and see the tiny pegasus with enormous wings fill his vision. Ernest was about ready to scream, but it was too late. The little pony collided with the human, smashing him to the ground.

Moaning in pain, Ernest heard the newcomer say, “Hey, thanks for breaking my fall, Ernest. And for this set of killer wings.”

Rimshot squirmed out of Scootaloo’s hooves and climbed onto his master’s chest. He inspected his owner for any major damage. As usual, Ernest was unharmed.

Ernest groaned in agony. “Killer wings is right. . . Those things nearly did me in.”

Scootaloo’s cheeks turned scarlet beneath her fur as she helped the groggy human to his feet.

Ernest shook his head to stop the world from spinning and studied the three mutated ponies. “I think I liked you three better in your troll costumes.”

“Buck you!” yelled Sweetie Belle. Her enormously long horn was pulsating with magic. “You’re the reason we look like this.”

The garbage man cringed and took a step back.

Apple Bloom moved to place herself between her unicorn friend and the human. To the huge earth pony, it looked like her fellow crusader wanted to either impale Ernest with her spear-horn or blast him to a million pieces.

“Sweetie Belle, I don’t think this is his fault. We shouldn’t have been messing with his things,” Apple Bloom said calmly.

“How can you take his side?” Sweetie Belle asked as she pointed her long horn away from her friend. “I bet the pedofile left those three bottles there for us to drink. Don’t you think it’s weird that he had a bottle of magic potion for each kind of pony?”

“Wait a second,” Ernest said. “I don’t have any magic potions. I promised my health class teacher I wouldn’t touch the stuff. He said it would be bad for me in the long run.”

Rimshot pawed at Ernest’s leg and yipped up at his master.

“What do you mean they’re not talking about steroids? What else could it be? I’m telling you this is a classic case of over juicing.”

Scootaloo stretched her bulbous wings to the sky but fell over to the side in the process. “Your dog’s right. I got these sweet wings from drinking that pegasus potion you had in your bag.”

“And I became a Clydesdale when I drank the earth pony potion,” declared Apple Bloom.

Sweetie Belle just glared at Ernest, too mad to speak.

Ernest just stared blankly at the three, still trying to piece together how he was responsible for this.

Rimshot too was having a hard time seeing how his master could . . . The dog’s ears stood on end as he remembered what they had done the night before. Rimshot quickly turned to his owner and barked up to his master.

“Sports drinks, what sports . . . oh.” Ernest now recalled when he and Rimshot had entered Zacora’s hut and had taken three vials from a cavity in a wall, hidden by a mask.

“Eh-heh-heh-heh. I’m glad I didn’t try those.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Ernest asked, “Have you three ever heard of a witch named Zecora?”

The three ponies gaped at the human.

“You stole those potions from Zecora, didn’t you?” the unicorn bellowed.

“I didn’t steal them, I paid for them,” Ernest replied quickly.

“Where’s your receipt then?” asked Scootaloo.

“Right here,” Ernest replied as he dug into his jeans pockets with his hands. Not finding anything, he started to pat himself down. Starting o become nervous, he even looked underneath his brand new hat. When he put his hat back on his head, it came to him. He never got a receipt because Zecora was not there at the time when he paid for the sports drinks. He had just left the money on a table.

When he shared this revelation with the Crusaders, they were not happy.

Pointing a hoof at him, Sweetie Belle declared, “You and your pet are now prisoners of the Cutie Mark Crusaders until we get this sorted out.”

The human swallowed nervously, while Rimshot covered his eyes with his ears.

“What are you thinking, Sweetie?” the pegasus asked.

“I think we need to visit Zecora.”

“But how are all of us going to get past my family? Plus it’ll be dark by the time we get there and back. Everypony will be suspicious about where we’ve been.”

Sweetie Belle stared at the huge filly. It was uncanny how much she sounded like her brother.

“You two just keep an eye on Stupid and Rimshot.”

Ernest frowned indignantly. “Hey, there’s no need for name calling. We’re all friends here . . . right?”

Scootaloo looked at Ernest’s hat and back to Ernest. “Have you taken a look at your hat recently?”

“No. Why?”

“You might want to do that,” replied Scootaloo. “It looks like Rarity left you a message on it.”

“A message? What does it say?” Ernest asked excitedly as he took off his hat.

“Aw, why’d you have to tell him that, Scoots? He could have gone for weeks without knowing,” declared Apple Bloom.

At that moment though, a cloud blocked the sunlight coming down on the group.

“What message? Is it invisible? I didn’t know you ponies could write in invisible ink.”

Apple Bloom frowned. “Huh, weird, the message disappeared.” Knowing they were getting off topic, the unicorn declared, “I’m going to teleport all of us to Zecora’s house. She’ll fix us up and then we high tail it back to the club house.”

“Can you do that?” asked Apple Bloom.

“Um, I think so.”

“I don’t know, guys. I think I’d rather walk,” Ernest pleaded. “You know what happens if you don’t exercise? You look like my friend Chuck. Not that I’m saying he’s fat . . . cause he is. But the point is, I think we should stretch our legs a little.”

“Apple Bloom, grab him,” Sweetie Belle commanded.

Ernest froze as the enormous mare placed a heavy hoof on his shoulder, rooting him to the ground. Rimshot kept glancing over his shoulder for any sign of help from just about anyone. There was none.

“Okay, here we go,” Sweetie Bell announced.

Moss colored magic surrounded the group, and moments later they were gone.

Disneyland

Ernest closed his eyes and covered his face as he felt his body begin to teleport. To the human it felt like someone had strapped his brain to a roller coaster but didn’t bother to send the rest of him along for the ride. He was moving, and yet at the same time, he was standing still. Throughout this ordeal, he felt Apple Bloom’s powerful hoof on his shoulder and Rimshot coiled around his leg.

And then as violently as the crazy ride started, it stopped. The Troll Fighter felt Apple Bloom let go of him at the same time his brain banged against his skull. Dazed and confused, the human took several steps, trying to get his bearings. He rubbed his eyes, “No, Vern. I don’t wanna ride the Vomit Comet again. Six times was enough,” he continued, stumbling around.

While Sweetie Belle shook her head, Scootaloo stated, “We must be close to the Tree of Harmony and the Castle of the Two Sisters. See, the rope bridge is over there,” said the pegasus pointing.

Ernest frowned. “So, what you’re really trying to say is . . . we’re in Disneyland?”

The Crusaders did a simultaneous face-hoof.

“Hey, where’s Rimshot?” asked Ernest.

“He’s wrapped around your leg,” Apple Bloom replied.

The human looked down and saw that his pet was still clamped down on his leg tighter than a vice. A terrified expression was plastered on the beagle’s face.

“Rimshot, it’s okay. You can let go now, buddy. The trip is over.” Ernest tried to pry the dog off, but he was stuck fast. “I can’t feel my leg.”

Scootaloo waved her hoof in front of Rimshot’s face. “Man, he’s out of it.”

“Stand back,” commanded the little unicorn. “I think I can snap him out of it.”

Ernest watched in fascinated terror as Sweetie Belle began to charge up her horn.

“Hold on, Sweetie,” Apple Bloom said. “We may need your magic to get home. I’m sure Zecora can fix Rimshot when we find her.”

Ernest gave Apple Bloom a confused glance. “He’s already been fixed. All we just need to do is depetrify him.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sweetie Belle. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Uh, sure,” Ernest said. “So how far away is Zecora’s?”

The Crusaders looked at each other, unsure.

“I think it’s a mile west of here,” ventured Scootaloo.

Ernest nodded. “Sounds good to me. Let’s get moving.”

After a while of walking, Ernest came to the conclusion the Everfree Forest was just as scary as the first time he visited it. It seemed like the trees had a mind of their own and were closing in on them. To relieve the tension, he struck up a conversation with the fillies. “So, uh, how’s your sister doing, Sweetie Belle? I really like the hat she made for me.”

The little unicorn glared up at the human, which was an effort considering how much her mutated horn weighed. “She’s fine.”

Ernest could not help but grin a little. It had been a while since Sweetie Belle had called him a pedophile. To the Troll Fighter, the two of them were becoming fast friends.

Ernest petted Rimshot absently. That dog sure had a killer grip on his leg. “So, Scootaloo, are you scared of Zecora? Is she a mean witch?”

“What? No. She’s real nice. It’s just that . . . I don’t think I want to be cured. I like my wings.”

Ernest looked at Scootaloo’s wings. They were ugly and way too big for her. “Uh, they look good. But wouldn’t you like your old wings back? Something you can control a little better, you know what I mean?”

The little pegasus became very downcast. “I can’t fly with my old wings.”

“Oh,” Ernest replied.

The garbage man wanted to say something profound to the little pegasus, but the words died in his throat as a high-pitched howl split the air.

Ernest’s eyes whipped back and forth. “Was that a cute little bunny?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” Apple Bloom whispered shakily. “That was a timberwolf.”

“What’s a timberwolf?”

Hoof trembling, Sweetie Belle pointed. Through the densely-packed trees came several dozen lupine figures.

The unicorn blasted the first timberwolf that strayed too close to the group. It began to reform. As the wolves grew closer, the earth pony lashed out with her hind legs. Scootaloo used her immense wings to keep several of the wolves at bay.

Ernest looked all around them. The group was nearly surrounded, and there was no room for Scootaloo to fly away to get help. He dodged and weaved out of the way of snapping jaws and found himself back-to-back with the other Crusaders. The human’s mind raced. There had to be a way out of this without getting too many splinters. Then it came to him.

“Girls!” Ernest yelled. The three fillies turned their attention to the human. “Don’t ever do this to a pack of timber wolves!”

Before the ponies could ask what he was talking about, Ernest cried out, “Abaddeeya, Abaddeeya, Abaddeeya, Abaddeeya, Abaddeeya!”

The wooden lupines went berserk and ran straight for Ernest. He figured they would. After all, if badgers hated that sound, timberwolves were like badgers, right?

Ernest sprinted through a gap in-between the wolves and trees. Glancing behind him, it looked like the entire pack was breathing down his neck. But at least they were leaving the fillies alone.

“WHHAAAAAAAAAAA!” Ernest screamed as he ran blindly into the darkness. He felt Rimshot tightening around him as his arms pumped up and down through the air. The wolves were gaining on him, and could feel his numbed leg begin to falter. Ernest tripped and careened down a steep hill, tumbling all the way. He came to a stop, landing flat on his back at the bottom.

Ernest spat out some leaves. “Okay, Rimshot. Next time I’ll hang on to you while we’re being chased by evil fire kindling.”

Ernest sat up and his heart plummeted. He was in the epicenter of every timber wolf in the Everfree Forest. “Eh-heh-heh-heh, did I say fire kindling? I meant match dogs. Tough, striking, match dogs. It’s a compliment where I come from. You know what I mean?” he laughed nervously.

The wolves growled menacingly at him and drew closer. Ernest closed his eyes and hugged Rimshot close to his chest as best he could. He heard glass shatter right in front of him and a terrible smell whiffed into his nostrils. The Troll Fighter’s eyes watered as his lips worked from side to side.

“Eh-heh-hewwwwwwwww!”

The Timberwolves scattered, fleeting from the horrible concoction that had been thrown into their midst.

Ernest covered his nose and tried to stand. His deadened appendage refused to support his weight. To make matters worse, Ernest could see a cloaked figure walking toward him with a cloth mask wrapped around its face.

Panicking, the human looked for anything to throw or use against the approaching four-legged thing. Seeing nothing useful, Ernest decided to play dead. The hoof-falls stopped mere feet away from him.

“I apologize for the smelly brew, but lucky for you, my aim was true.” The words were feminine and had a pleasant sing-song ring.

Ernest cracked open an eye. After seeing the scary cloaked figure, he quickly closed it again.

“There is no need to play possum. I think that your saving the fillies is awesome.”

Ernest wondered why the mysterious figure talked so funny. He opened his eyes and sat up. He Covering his nose, he declared, “Dr. Seuss! You’re talking in Dr. Seuss! Are you the witch, Zecora?”

Zecora drew back her hood so the human could see her face. Her aqua-colored eyes narrowed. “Yes, but now I have a question for you. Are you the thief who stole my precious brew?”

Ernest frowned. “Hey, wait a minute. I’m not a thief. I paid for everything I took . . . I think; everything is kind of fuzzy when I think about it.”

Zecora nodded solemnly. “Your mind gets turned to jell-o, when you drink my Mellow Yellow.”

Before Ernest could reply, three ponies ran out of the trees. Ignoring the powerful stench, the little ponies flung themselves at Ernest and enveloped him in a hug.

“We thought you were a goner!” Scootaloo cried.

“You’re the bravest pedoph— I mean, human I ever met.” Sweetie Belle said happily.

“Ya did good, stupid. Real good,” Apple Bloom said slapping him on the back.

Ernest wondered if his spine would ever be the same again.

Zecora spoke up. “I hate to spoil this moment of bliss, but we must not linger in a place like this.”

With Zecora leading the way, the group made it to the zebra’s hut as night fell. It was slow going because of Ernest’s leg and Sweetie Belle’s horn. They went inside and Apple Bloom helped Ernest onto a stool. Zecora took off her cloak and mask.

Ernest’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re a zebra? Wow, I’ve never saw one up close before.”

Zecora chuckled. “I have heard that phrase many a time. Now let’s see about this pepper of mine.”

Without another word Zecora opened a wooden cabinet and pulled out a pepper grinder. The zebra walked up to Rimshot and turned the grinder just above the beagle’s nose. The dog released his master and began to sneeze up a storm. The brew mistress shook her head then turned to the fillies.

“Lucky for you three, I was prepared for such a catastrophe.”

Zecora made her way to the far side of her hut where her tribal masks hung. Carefully, she lifted a mask off the wall. Behind it were three plain vials nestled into the wall of the hut.

She gave the vials to the ponies. “Drink this and it should return you to normal. Perhaps now you will remember not to borrow from Ernest P. Worrell.”

Both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom nodded thankfully and drank the potion. Apple Bloom cheered as she returned to being a little filly. Sweetie Belle rested her head on the table, grateful that the heavy weight of her horn was gone. Scootaloo stared at the unopened vial in her hooves.

“Sweet, Scootaloo, you know this is the right thing to do,” Zecora said quietly.

Scootaloo slammed down the vial. “I don’t want to give up these wings! I’m tired of not being able to fly!”

She buried her face in her hooves. Ernest winced. “Hey, it’s alright. I can’t fly either.”

Scootaloo glared at the human. “You’re not supposed to. I am.”

“Well, aren’t there other things you’re good at? Other things you like?” Ernest pressed.

The pegasus frowned. “Well, I like riding my scooter a lot. But I guess. . .” She lifted one of the massive wings. “These won’t let me ride anymore. I won’t be able to do any of my awesome tricks.”

She sighed heavily and drank the potion. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle nudged her and told her she was making the right choice. Scootaloo was very quiet as her wings slowly shrank to their normal size.

Ernest felt badly for the pony but was snapped out of his melancholy by Zecora. “Tell me, Mr. Worrell, how was taking my property moral?”

The human scratched the back of his neck as he began to retell the story of how he got here. With Rimshot’s help, he told her about the trolls and how they followed a bear to her hut. Ernest went on to explain about Rimshot needing to use the restroom and that Mellow Yellow was his favorite brand of soda pop where he came from. When Ernest got to the part about how he had a dream involving talking masks, Zecora stopped him. Her eyes were ablaze with surprise and curiosity as she asked,

“What did these spirits say? I must know! Now! Today!”

The fillies looked at each other in surprise. They had never seen Zecora worked up like this before.

Ernest put both hands to his head as he wracked his brain for what the mask-spirits had said. “Hello, oafish one, your quest has just started . . . I mean begun. You are in the land of Equestria, ruled by Princess Celestia. We are the guardians of mold, er, old, whose magic shapes and molds. Fate has brought you here to take away the ponies’ fear. Go forth and take what you must, leave now before all is dust.”

To the beagle and the crusaders this sounded very cheesy, but Zecora rubbed her chin in contemplation. “Are these the exact words the spirits spoke? This is not a funny joke.”

The human nodded frantically. “I’m almost seventy-two percent sure that’s what they said. I mean, I was asleep floating above my own body, wondering if those masks were going to eat me. I think I did pretty good remembering what I did.”

The zebra looked at Ernest carefully for a long moment. She finally said, “All is forgiven, let us say no more. It is getting late; you all should be going out the door.”

The group made good time now that everybody was back to normal. It was late at night when they reached the edge of the Everfree Forest, and Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Rarity, and Twilight were there searching for them. As soon as the mares saw the group, they rushed over.

“Where in tarnation have you been?” Apple Jack cried. “We looked everywhere for ya! Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and the rest of the family are still looking. They’re practically tearing the whole town apart.”

Rarity grabbed her sister and gave her a hug. “Oh, Sweetie Belle, are you alright? Did Ernest hurt you? If he hurt you, I swear I’ll—”

“No!” Sweetie Belle yelled. “He saved us from a pack of timber wolves!”

“Timber wolves?” Rainbow Dash asked in disbelief. “No way.” She studied the human with a new appreciation.

“It’s true,” Scootaloo chimed in. “You should have seen him. He did this one super annoying wolf call and got all the timber wolves to chase him. It was wicked!”

“Hold on,” Twilight said, holding up a quieting hoof. “What were all of you doing in the Everfree Forest in the first place?”

Apple Bloom gulped. “It’s a long story.”

“We have time.” Twilight said with a hint of menace. The other three mares nodded in agreement.

And so the story was told again in intricate detail from the perspectives of Ernest, Rimshot, and the Crusaders. Rainbow Dash left during part of it to tell the others in Ponyville that everyone missing had been found. She came back finding the end of the story as incomprehensible as the beginning.

When the tale was over, Twilight declared, “This explains a lot.”

Rarity looked at her sister and her friends accusingly. “You three should have known better than to take somepony else’s things.”

Looking downcast, the three fillies nodded.

Coming to their defense, Ernest said, “Well, me and Rimshot kind of did the same thing.”

The beagle barked in protest.

“Uh, I mean I did the same thing. . . but only because the spirit-masks said it was okay. But I should have asked Zecora first. I know I would hate it if someone came into my place and started taking my stuff without asking me. Ya know what I mean?”

Applejack yawned widely. “Well, I for one am glad y’all are safe and sound. Now let’s hit the hay. We’ll talk about this some more in the mornin’.”

No one objected as the ponies went their separate ways.

“Ready to come back to Golden Oaks, boys?” Twilight asked sleepily.

Rimshot yipped his approval, but Ernest was looking over at a sulking Scootaloo. Rainbow Dash was trying to comfort her.

“Cheer up, squirt. It’ll be alright,” she said nudging her with a hoof.

Scootaloo nodded but didn’t say a word.

“How about I spend the day with you tomorrow, and we can work on upgrading your scooter. Those plans you’re working on look pretty sweet.”

The little pegasus nodded but was obviously distracted. The two started to make their way into Ponyville.

“Wait a second,” Ernest called.

“It’s pretty late, buddy. Can’t this wait?” asked Rainbow Dash yawning.

Ignoring the older pegasus, Ernest knelt down to Scootaloo and said, “I want to give you something. It’s not much, but I know you had a really rough day, and I want to try and make it better.”

As Twilight, Rainbow Dash, and Rimshot looked on, Ernest took a folded, beat up piece of paper out of his denim vest pocket and gave it to Scootaloo.

“What’s this?” she asked. She couldn’t read the words with so little light.

“It sounds like you got a pretty good head on your shoulders for making and fixing things. I should know, being a fellow tinker-er. So, I want to give you the title to my truck and everything in it. The old girl is pretty rough around the edges right now, if you know what I mean. But I think the truck will get you a little more speed than the scooter will.”

Scootaloo’s eyes grew huge with wonder. “You’re giving me your truck? You mean, I can have it? That thing sitting behind Apple Bloom’s house, I can have that?”

Ernest nodded sheepishly. “I know it’s not a new set of wings, and I know it’s not much. But she’s a great old girl, and she’s yours if you want her.”

The next thing the human knew, he was being tackled by an ecstatic pegasus doing her best to hug him to death. “Of course I want it! I mean, her! Thank you! Thank you, Ernest. This means the world to me. I’ll make her the fastest truck ever! Just you wait.”

Abrakaflurry Take Me to Missouri

“Ugh! Where is he?” Twilight asked nopony in particular. The alicorn stared at a nearby clock, willing it to slow down. Sweat began to trickle down her mane, and it wasn’t because of the warm sunlight. “The train to the Crystal Empire will be here any minute.”

“Simmer down, Twi. I’m sure he and the Crusaders will be here soon,” Applejack said confidently.

“Um, you said that an hour ago,” Fluttershy pointed out in her quiet voice.

“I know it, and I’m just as sure now as I was then. He’ll make it,” Applejack said.

Rarity cleared her throat. “Maybe one of us should go to Sweet Apple Acres to check on them.” She looked up at the sky-blue pegasus and batted her eyelashes. “Rainbow, could you be a dear?

“Why me?” Rainbow asked. “Aren’t Big Mac and Pinkie Pie supposed to be keeping an eye on him?”

“Hush up you two. Y’all here that?”

The ponies’ ears perked up as something loud and musical sped towards them. Even Spike woke up from his nap as the noise got louder and louder. Rainbow bobbed her head up and down to the beat. As the object approached, they could make out lyrics.

Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.

Ernest’s truck careened around the corner except it didn’t look quite like Ernest’s truck. Someone had painted orange and violet flames along the hood and sides. Huge rockets were strapped to the back. Strange metal contraptions jutted out from the vehicle at odd angles. All the while Scootaloo was behind the wheel laughing with sheer unbridled joy. Beside her, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle were having a blast themselves. Ernest clung to his seat in the cab, white-faced and horrified. The ponies outside dove for cover as Scootaloo drove over the train station’s handicap ramp.

“Woo-hooooo!” she cried as the truck went spiraling through the air. Everyone gaped in terror as the truck sailed across the tracks. Somehow she managed to get the beast to come to a clean stop on the other side.

Never gonna give, Never gonna give, Give you . . .

The music died as Scootaloo killed the truck and flashed a cocky grin at the girls.

Faster than lighting, Rainbow Dash flew over and landed on the hood of the truck. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Scoot’s grin got even wider. “Thanks. I’ve always wanted to try that, except I could never get enough speed on my scooter.”

The other two crusaders spilled out of the truck running on an adrenaline high.

“I’ve never gone that fast in my life!” Sweetie Belle gushed.

“Yeah, I think this thing can leave you in the dirt, Rainbow Dash,” Apple Bloom chimed in.

The cyan pegasus scoffed.

“What were you thinking, Scootaloo? You could have gotten somepony hurt,” the Princess scolded.

The young pegasas put up her hooves defensively. “Relax, Twilight. I had everything under control. Besides Ernest was watching my every move. He wouldn’t let me crash.”

At the mention of the human’s name, the door opened and a sick, groaning man slid out.

“Ernest, are you alright?” Fluttershy asked worriedly as she and Spike helped him to his feet.

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Spike chimed in.

The Troll Fighter’s skin around his face was swept back, and his hair had turned cotton white. “Oh, I’m fine. I just got a little rocket-truck lag. I think Scoots broke a few G-Whiz barriers back there. I should know. I’m a certified Flume Zoom expert from my Splash Mountain days,” Ernest shook his head. “Splash Mountain has nothing on this truck.”

Ernest dusted himself off. “Did we beat Pinkie Pie here?”

The ponies didn’t answer Ernest right away. Instead, they were staring at the human’s hat with the ornate purple lettering. Twilight turned to Rarity and gave her a disapproving look.

The fashonista withered under the glare. “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it. Just don’t tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

Applejack covered for her friend. “Hey, uh, where’s Pinkie? Why didn’t she come with y’all?”

“Rimshot wanted to ride in her hot air balloon. I don’t know why he wanted to miss out on all the eye-dropping, jaw popping, heart hemorrhaging fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun.” Ernest took a step forward and nearly collapsed.

Rainbow Dash caught him just in time. “Hey, why did Rarity sew—”

“Ernest, buddy,” Spike said interrupting her. “Your hat has a tear in it. Why don’t you give it to Rarity? She knows a neat spell that’ll fix it right up.”

The Troll Fighter thought about this. “Naw, this hat is special. I wanna keep it the way it is. When I get back to the States, I’m gonna buy me a glass box and a pedestal. I’m going to put this baby in that box and look at it every day. And each time I do, I’ll think about you guys and the good times we’ve had together.”

Ernest felt three pairs of tiny hooves clamp down on his legs. He looked down at the sad faces of the Crusaders.

“We’ll miss you, Ernest,” Apple Bloom mumbled.

“Yeah, I know we didn’t start off on the right hoof, but. . . you’re alright,” Sweetie Belle said.

Too overcome with emotion to speak, Scootaloo buried her face in the human’s leg.

The Troll Fighter ruffled the manes of the Crusaders. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Why, Celestia? Why does he have to leave?” Pinkie Pie sobbed loudly.

“Because he has to go home, Pinkie. He doesn’t belong here,” Twilight answered unhappily. The alicorn did a double take. “Pinkie?! When did you get here?”

“Oh, Rimshot and I have been here a while waiting on you guys. We got bored so we visited the Sofa and Quills store, and Rimshot helped me pick out a Trottingham loafer. I picked the one he kept chewing and peeing on. He seemed to like that one best, but for some reason the store clerk wouldn’t give me a discount on a damaged product. The nerve of some ponies.”

Rimshot barked in agreement. Then a tell-tale whistle pierced the air. As the train approached, they said their goodbyes to the Crusaders.

“It’s too bad those three couldn’t come with us,” Ernest said as they made their way through the train car. “But school is important. It is the block building in which young minds are molded, tailored, sculpted, forged, and baked in a crucible of hard knocks and harder books. Yes, sir, school cannot be overly overstated. Ya know what I mean, Miss Rarity?”

The train started with a jerk, and Ernest fell into the vacant seat in front of her.

Rarity suppressed a sigh. “Uh, of course, darling. Now are you sure you don’t want me to repair your hat? That tear bothers me.”

Ernest glanced over at Applejack, and his eyes got huge. “Oh, my gosh, what’s that?” The Troll Fighter shouted, pointing at Applejack’s head. All eyes turned to the farm pony.

The earth pony took off her Stetson and examined it. “There’s nothing there.”

“I know. Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh.”

The ponies saw Ernest’s cap was missing. “I know what you ponies are up to,” the human said smugly. “You all want to start a game of keep away with old Ernest P. Worrell by taking his head gear. Well, old Ernest has ridden that train before. Rimshot, go long!”

And with that, Ernest threw his cap across the passenger car. The beagle was wide open, but Ernest’s cap was intercepted by Twilight’s magic.

The alicorn frowned. “Ernest, we’re not playing a game while the train is --- hey!”

Rainbow Dash laughed as she snatched the cap out of Twilight’s aura. “Think fast, Fluttershy.”

“What?” the yellow pegasus asked as the hat flew by her face.

Spike picked up the cap. “I got it, Rarity!”

His victory was short-lived as Rimshot ran by and grabbed the hat with his teeth.

Ernest laughed and clapped his hands. “Good going, Rimshot.”

The beagle stopped running down the aisle when Pinkie Pie dangled a pastry in front of his nose.

“Hey, Rimshot. I’ll trade you this fried fish flavored cupcake for that hat.”

Ernest’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Oh, no, that’s his favorite kind of cake. Don’t do it, boy. I’ll sleep in the dog house tonight. You can have the bed. We’ll watch ‘Underdog’ everyday of the week. Just don’t be that dog.”

Rimshot turned his head just enough to see his owner’s reaction as he dropped the prize into Pinkie’s hooves.

Ernest turned to Rainbow Dash in disgust. “I guess when you’re hungry, loyalty goes out the window.”

The pegasus nodded. “It doesn’t help.”

The rest of the train ride passed without much incident. The group received a harsh reprimand from the ticket pony about playing games in the aisle. Ernest lamented the betrayal from his best friend while Rarity sewed furiously on his hat. The whole car began to stink after an hour reeking of the absurd fish cupcakes Pinkie continued to feed Rimshot.

Twilight threw open a window, gasping for air. She waved to the human from across the car. “Ernest, take a look at this.”

Obeying, the Troll Fighter walked over to where Twilight was sitting. The ponies made way for the human so that he could look out her window. Off in the distance, Ernest saw a huge mountain with a city built into it. For several long moments the human marveled at the towering spires and the beautiful architecture of the metropolis.

“Is that Camelot, your majesty?”

“Yes. And for the hundredth time, it’s called Canterlot.”

“Is that where we’re goin?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, Ernest. But we’re going to the Crystal Empire,” Fluttershy chimed in.

“That’s okay,” Ernest replied a little disappointed. “I just wanted to try out my Camelot voice and impress some of the local Camelotians.”

“What the hay is a Camelot voice?” asked Applejack.

The human replied in his Scottish accent. “Well, lassie, it sounds a wee bit like this. My clan dates back to the time Camelot reigned and snowed over the land for eons. Aye, and I can hear the harps of Camelot from here, calling me back to a bygone age of heroes, hags, and hellions. They call me back to the times before my people left the Isle of Vern on the great fire bird, Pontiac. ‘Twas a sad time, that was.”

Pinkie painted half of her face blue and began to play a sad yet proud Celtic tune on a harp. Ernest continued to tell his tale until the train pulled into the Crystal Empire’s station.

“And that was before my great, great, great, great, great uncle, Grand Theologian Ferbious Worrell, filler of swear jars, vanquished the dread haggis at Moat Moshpit.”

As soon as the door to their car opened, every pony, save Pinkie, hurried out as fast as they could.

Ernest blinked. “They must need some fresh air. Wait, are we here already? Wow, that went by fast.”

Pinkie jumped up and put the human’s cap back on his head. “Come on, Ernest. If you thought the train ride was fun, you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Ernest and Pinkie rejoined the group and took in the majesty of the Crystal Empire. “Golly, Bob Howdy, where in the world are we now?” Ernest asked.

“The Crystal Empire,” Rainbow said. “The most awesome place in Equestria if you don’t count Cloudsdale or Ponyville.”

Nodding, Ernest replied in his western voice. “That may be true, little lady, but as good as this place may be, I doubt it’ll hold a candle to home in my eye.”

Applejack smiled at that. “Couldn’t agree more, partner. Now come on, let’s get you home.”

As they made their way deeper into the Empire, Spike whispered to Rarity. “What happened to the message on his hat? It’s not showing up in the sunlight.”

“I did manage to fix it, Spike. Although, I had to remove that beautiful silken spell thread to it. What a waste.”

She sighed dramatically as Spike rolled his eyes.

The group headed straight for the center of the city while the crystal ponies stopped to stare at the strange new biped in their midst. None of them gawked for long, and they soon returned to their business. Before long, Ernest and his escort made it to the royal castle. A welcoming committee stood at the entrance: an entourage of crystal pony guards and the rulers themselves. Prince Shining Armor and Princess Cadence stood majestically in front of their guests. Overcome with joy, Twilight galloped to her brother and gave him a big hug.

“Twiley,” he embraced her. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too, B.B.B.F.F.”

Twilight turned to her sister-in-law and they performed their traditional greeting. “Sunshine, sunshine ladybugs awake, clap your hooves and do a little shake.”

Ernest watched the Princesses carry out this strange ritual. He whispered to Fluttershy, “Who are they?”

“That’s Twilight’s big brother, Prince Shining Armor, and that’s his true love, Princes Mi Amore Cadenza.”

Ernest blinked. “Is she French?”

“Um, I don’t think so. What’s a French?”

Rimshot barked up at his master.

“Oh, that makes more sense,” Ernest mused.

Fluttershy looked even more confused. “I don’t think she’s that either.”

The rest of the ponies and Spike greeted the rulers of the Crystal Empire warmly. Twilight then turned to Ernest. “Princess Cadence, Prince Shining Armor, may I present Ernest P. Worrell of Missouri and his pet, Rimshot.”

The pink alicorn smiled and nodded in greeting. “It is nice to finally meet you, Ernest.”

Not knowing how to reply to this obviously important pony, Ernest sat down on the ground and started his own greeting ritual. “Blacksmith, Blacksmith, near the gorge, make me a horseshoe with your forge. Stretch it, beat it, form it in a U. And leave it on fence post as a clue.” He patted his belly and shook his head a few times for good measure.

Nopony said a word when Ernest finished his impromptu greeting.

“Oh, uh, sorry, your highness. It’s the best hello I could come up with on the spot. You know what I mean?”

The awkward silence stretched on for a few seconds before it dawned on Cadence. “Oh! Do that one more time.”

The human obeyed and repeated the rhyme and hand gestures. This time Cadence joined in, slapping her hooves against Ernest’s open palms.

Laughing, the older alicorn got to her hooves and declared, “Twilight, you were not exaggerating about this one.”

“I tried to warn you,” Twilight grimaced, visibly nervous.

Shining Armor extended his hoof to Ernest. “Just a hoof shake will do.”

As they were shaking hands/hooves, Shining Armor asked, “Is it true you single-handedly beat a Minotaur at hoof-wrestling?”

“No, your highness, I had help. Fluttershy hypnotized him.”

The Prince nodded. “I know. Twilight told us in her message. I just wanted to hear it from you.” He smiled. “I’m glad you were earnest.”

The human blushed. “Well, Fluttershy’s mind control powers combined with my charisma, reputation, and cutting-edge physical prowess, that poor bovine didn’t stand a chance.”

The ponies guffawed as the prince fought to keep from laughing in the human’s face.

“Not exaggerating at all,” Shining murmured to Twilight.

Eventually they made their way through the royal tower and into a well-lit chamber with a beautiful mirror at its center.

Ernest raised an eyebrow at his new friends. “Is that the way home?”

Everypony nodded.

“Uh, do I walk up to it and say . . . Abrakaflurry, take me to Missouri? Or wait, I need to be more specific. Hocus pocus, take me to Briarville.”

“Eh, if it makes you feel better” Rainbow Dash said nonchalantly.

“Ernest, this portal takes you to a place called Canterlot High school,” Cadence explained. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how close that is to your home.”

The human waved off the apology. “If it’s the right hemisphere, it’s good enough.”

“But what if it’s the left one?” asked Pinkie.

“Then I’d better learn the metric system.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Also Ernest, there’s one more thing you sh—.” She was cut off by the Troll Fighter hugging her.

“I hope you don’t chop off my head for this, your majesty, but I just want you to know, you’re okay in my book. And if I ever decided to write one, you’d definitely be in it.”

The alicorn fought back tears as she hugged the goof ball back, deciding what she wanted to tell him wasn’t that important anyway. The rest of the ponies, Spike, and Rimshot joined in the hug, each saying goodbye in their own way.

“Are you ready to go, boy?” Ernest asked his dog.

The beagle barked an affirmative and walked through the mirror.

Turning one last time to his pony friends, Ernest tipped his hat. “So long, partners. I’ll send y’all a cake.”

Down the Leprechaun's Toilet

Sunset Shimmer sighed as she looked longingly at the school statue. Ever since she’d tried and failed to take over Canterlot High, things had been rough. She could only blame herself. No one forced her to put on Twilight’s crown and turn her fellow students into mind-controlled zombies. The only reason why she stayed was for her five new friends. Well, “friends” was a strong word. Even Pinkie Pie kept her at arm’s length, and she liked everyone. Sunset knew they were trying to help, but open wounds like the one she caused mere weeks ago still festered. “What would you do Twilight?” she asked the open air.

There was an hour left before class started, and she still had a lot of brick laying to do. The gaping hole she had blasted into the face of the school was not going to fix itself. A flash of light caught her eye. She turned to see the portal in the statue opening. Sunset’s breath caught in her throat as the magical doorway burst into existence and deposited a tall, lanky human and a small dog onto the pavement.

Ernest groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Rimshot, I think they flushed us down a leprechaun’s toilet. Did you see all those swirling colors?”

The beagle simply scratched at his ears.

Ernest shrugged. “Well, I guess after being a wooden dog for a while, nothing phases you anymore.”

“Are you alright?”

The redneck saw a teenage girl looking down at him. “Yes, ma’am. I’m right as rain without the cloud. Ya know what I mean?”

The girl gave Ernest an odd look. “Uh, I guess.”

The strange man stood. “Well, thanks for the help, but I gotta catch a bus back to Briarville. Home sweet home. Land of mules, bluebirds, but no trolls. No need to thank me, cause you are welcome. Come on, Rimshot.”

Rimshot barked happily as he padded beside his master.

Sunset looked at the departing figures and shrugged. She was tired of dealing with other people and ponies. Who cares if he came from Equestria? Not her problem. She was about to go back to her punishment when something Twilight had said stuck in her memory.

“The magic of friendship doesn’t just exist in Equestria. It’s everywhere. You can seek it out, or you can forever be alone.”

With these words fresh in her mind, Sunset turned and called after the stranger, “Wait!”

Ernest stopped, surprised that she wanted to talk to him.

“I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sunset Shimmer.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Ernest said, shaking hands. “My name is Ernest. Ernest P. Worrell.”

“So, what brings you to Canterlot High? Did Celestia or Twilight Sparkle send you?”

Ernest’s eyes widened. “How’d you know? Are you a friend of Princess Twilight?”

Sunset’s face darkened. “I don’t know,” she said slowly.

Rimshot yipped at his master.

“Oh, sorry boy,” Ernest said. “This is Rimshot. Me and him have been through a lot together. Dumpster diving, troll fighting. . . if you name it, he’s probably sniffed it and ate it.”

The teenager smiled and petted the dog’s head.

Ernest’s eyes darted around. “Uh, Sunset, where exactly is Canterlot High? It sounds Canadian or Scottish. If “high” is in the name of a town, we have to be way up North.”

Sunset Shimmer couldn’t help but laugh at Ernest’s logic. “Let’s go to the school. There are several maps you can look at in the library. You said that Briarville was your home?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“And Briarville is over here on this side of the portal?”

“Yep.”

“But aren’t you an Equine?”

“No, ma’am. Southern Baptist.”

Sunset shook her head, “No, I mean aren’t you from Equestria? Like me? Are you a unicorn, pegasus, or an earth pony?”

Ernest frowned. “No, I’ve always been what I’ve looked like, two arms, two legs, one hat.”

This time Sunset frowned, but didn’t press him further. When they were back on school grounds, Ernest whistled as he looked at the enormous crater and the gaping hole in the front of the school.

“Wow, you guys have a massive gopher problem. What do you think, Rimshot, ten or eleven?”

Rimshot pawed the ground.

“Naw, if there were fifteen gophers, it’d be three feet deeper.”

“Actually, I caused that,” Sunset said slowly.

Ernest stared at Sunset in disbelief. “You let a gang of those goofy grounded gremlins out in the same place?” The redneck shook his head. “What are they teaching at this school?”

“No, it wasn’t gophers. I . . . forget about it. The library is down the hall and to your right. You can’t miss it. I think Miss Cheerilee is here so you can ask her for help.” And with that, Sunset got back to work smoothing out the mortar for the next layer of bricks.

Ernest started down the hallway. He took a few steps before turning around. He scratched his chin for a few moments before picking Rimshot up and whispering. “Hey boy, do you think you can snag me one of those maps from the library without getting caught?”

The beagle gave a hesitant bark.

“How much will it cost me? If I’m not mistaken, this is for your benefit, too.”

Rimshot yipped twice before sticking out his tongue and panting.

Ernest eyed his dog for a moment before saying, “Okay, fine. But I want a map that can get me out of the Bermuda Triangle or at least a Chucky Cheese ball pit.”

Rimshot nodded and hopped down.

Ernest turned his attention back to Sunset Shimmer. “Not that you’re doing a bad job, but shouldn’t the resident custodian be doing that?”

“He quit,” The teenager replied tersely. “Why aren’t you at the library?”

“Oh, I got Rimshot taking care of that. He knows what he’s looking for. Would you like some help with that? A gentleman of my upbringing cannot stand by and let a lady do a man’s job.”

Sunset was caught off guard by Ernest’s chauvinistic offer to help. But in spite of that, no one had stepped forward to assist her. Not since Snips and Snails had quit after complaining of back aches and blisters. “I appreciate the offer, Ernest, but I made this mess, too. I don’t think the principal would be happy if she found out someone else was helping me.”

Ernest smiled. “Then you’re in luck, because I’m not just a someone. I am Ernest P. Worrell, Baron of Bricks, Master of Mortar, and Tyrant of Trowels at your service.”

The reformed delinquent shook her head and grinned. “Well, I can’t pass up help like that. Hand me some more bricks.”

The minutes flew by as the strange pair worked and talked until it was almost time for the busses to arrive.

“So you followed a troll to Equestria, got knocked out by a tree, woke up in a hospital, met Twilight Sparkle, armed wrestled a minotaur, got lost in the Everfree Forest again, gave away your truck, took a train to the Crystal Empire, and now you’re rebuilding a wall with one of Celestia’s greatest disappointments. Sounds like you’ve had an interesting last few days.”

Ernest nodded. “Yep, a typical week in the life of yours truly. But you got one thing wrong, Sunny. I am building a wall with a bright young lady who knows that she had done wrong. You should be proud. I mean, you’re like Shredder telling the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles that you’re sorry and that you want to be a ninja turtle, too. Ya know what I mean?”

“Not at all, but I think I understand what you’re trying to say, and I really appreciate it. Outside of Rainbow Dash, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, and Fluttershy, you’re the only person who’s talked to me like I’m not an evil she demon.”

“Hey, even evil she demons have feelings.”

Sunset Shimmer laughed. She was about to reply when someone cleared their throat behind her.

She smiled nervously. “Oh, vice-principal Luna, what can I do for you?”

Luna gave Sunset a disapproving look. “Were the principal and I not clear that you were supposed to do this work on your own?”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts, Shimmer. I should—”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Ernest piped up.

Luna turned her attention to the odd man in a denim vest.

“My name is Ernest P. Worrell, and I heard y’all were out a janitor? Is that right?”

“Yes, unfortunately it is,” the vice principle said, fighting to keep the disgust out of her voice.

“That’s what I thought. Well, have no fear little lady, because your salvation is here.” The redneck produced a well-folded wad of papers from his back jeans pocket. “Here is the résumé of a man who has seen it all and done it all.”

Sighing, Luna took the yellowed papers from Ernest and began to skim over them.

Sunset mouthed to Ernest, “What are you doing?”

The troll fighter winked in reply.

Moments later, the vice principle admitted, “This résumé is impressive, but I don’t see on here where you went to college. Not even what high school you graduated from. Why is this information absent, Mr. Worrell?”

Ernest’s confidence evaporated like cold water on a hot stove. The redneck gulped, “Well, that’s because, I, uh, never finished high school.”

Luna rubbed her eyes in exasperation. “That is a problem, Mr. Worrell.”

“Please, call me Ernest.”

“Fine, Ernest. I won’t beat around the bush. We desperately need more janitors. But you need at least a high school degree to apply for the position. So I have a proposition for you. The school will hire you on temporarily until someone more qualified can be found. Your wages will be lower than the full-time staff members. We’ll sort out the rest of the details in an hour after my meeting with principal Celestia. Are these terms suitable?”

The troll fighter thought about this arrangement for a moment before sticking out his hand. “Put ‘er there, partner.”

Luna rolled her eyes and shook Ernest’s hand. “For your first assignment, I want you to stop by the library and talk to Ms. Cheerilee. It seems she’s caught a beagle trying to make off with a large globe. Probably one of Fluttershy's escapees from the animal shelter.”

Sunset and Ernest exchanged glances before Luna pointed at the teenager. “And you, get yourself cleaned up and report to class.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, vice-principal Luna turned and disappeared down the dimly lit hallway.

“Just wondering, Sunny, was it you who messed up the lights in this place?”

“No, they’ve been like that for a while,” Sunset Shimmer shrugged. “Thanks for bailing me out, but why do you want a job here? I thought you were trying to get back to Briarville.”

“I am, but something occurred to me a little while ago.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m kind of broke. And I don’t think the bus fare will be free.”

“I’m afraid not. Come on. Let’s see if we can rescue Rimshot.”

The two made their way to the library. They found the librarian watching a beagle study a large map hanging on a wall.

“Howdy, ma’am. I heard that you have a canine issue in the area?”

Cheerilee tore her eyes off the dog. “Uh, yes. I have no idea where that dog came from. He keeps trying to leave with geography equipment. Books, maps, globes, stuff like that. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every time I take my eyes off him, he tries to take something.”

Ernest nodded. “Hmmm, fascinating. This sounds like a classic case of cart fever.”

“Cart fever?” the librarian asked.

“Short for cartography fever. A dog of his breed catches a virus that makes him absolutely enamored with anything that has to do with map making. It’ll pass, but I feel sorry for his owner. They’ll have to put up with the howls of frustration from the beagle because he can’t hold a compass or use a pencil.”

The librarian gave Ernest a curious look. “I’m sorry, but who are you?”

“He’s the new temporary janitor,” declared Sunset. “I’m showing him around the school before classes start.”

“Oh, vice-principal Luna said that help was coming.” The librarian leaned over to Ernest and whispered, “Keep an eye on Shimmer. She’s a handful.”

Cheerilee straightened. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

When the librarian was out of sight, Ernest crouched down in front of Rimshot. “What happened? I didn’t want you to take the whole library. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Rimshot barked loudly and pointed at the map hanging on the wall.

Ernest followed the dog’s outstretched paw and stared at the map in disbelief. “Are they all like this one boy? Even the globes and books?”

Rimshot nodded.

“What? What’s wrong?” Sunest Shimmer asked.

“This world map is just like the maps we were looking at in Twilight’s library.”

“Uh, what does that mean?”

“It means that Rimshot and I are still not where we’re supposed to be. But we’re not in England or Camelot anymore either.”

Sunset took a step back. “So what you’re saying is you’re from another world?”

Ernest nodded. “Well, Sunny, I gotta find a place to hide Rimshot for the day and then get to work. A deal’s a deal despite the fact I’m more lost than a misplaced ‘Where’s Waldo’ book. I got a job to do now.”

“I have an idea,” the teenager said. “Let me take care of Rimshot. Fluttershy will know the best place to hide pets from the faculty.”

The troll fighter hesitated, but in the end he handed the beagle over to Sunny. “Take care of him. He’s all I got.”

Sunset Shimmer nodded. “Meet me and the rest of the girls after school today, and we’ll talk about what to do next.”

“Okay. Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, it’s what friends are for.”

Bobbing for Opossums

“Okay, Rabuf, tell me what the plan is.”

“Never pet a burning dog. Never pee near a gopher hole. And never ever crap where you eat.”

Rotnart massaged his throbbing temples. “Why don’t you take another look at your notes.”

“Good idea, boss.” After skimming over a piece of used toilet paper, Rotnart began again. “We’re gonna grab five opossums, turn them into doll opossums, and we’ll become super trolls once we put them in the lucky, special tree-thingy.”

“That’s right, brother. And remember, all we need is five, but grab a few more if you can, just in case.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can I go now?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Before Rabuf could take his club and bash himself in the head, the other troll stopped him. “I mean go into town, you bag of hammers.”

Rabuf blinked. “I knew that.” And with that, Rabuf put on his “stealth suit” and began heading towards the Ponyville Nightmare Night Celebration.

The older troll watched his brother make his way from the forest’s edge and into the outskirts of town. An irritatingly familiar voice invaded his thoughts. “Why are you including him on this mission? He can’t tell a pony from a mushroom.”

“True, but he’ll provide one hell of a distraction. While he’s doing . . . whatever he’s gonna do, I’ll grab the five.”

“If you can, steal five unicorn foals. They will serve you the best.”

“Hey, you keep your trap shut unless I need you. You give me intel on these horses, and I’ll set you free from your prison once I have the power.”

Rotnart could hear the feminine voice laughing in his ear even though she was far away. “Yes, and don’t even think about crossing me. If you do, I will end you in the most gruesome way imaginable.”

The troll could not stop a shiver from going down his spine. But in spite of that, he managed a weak chuckle. “I doubt that. But I’m a troll of my word, and you will be free before this night is over.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rabuf’s big eyes darted from point to point as he peered through the eyeholes of his “stealth suit.” As the troll was making his way into the center of town, the other opossums were looking right at him. But the joke was on them. As far as they knew, they were just looking at a cardboard box. There was nothing unusual about a box that grew legs and moved every now and then. “Heh, and I thought this was going to be hard,” the troll giggled to himself.

“Silver Spoon, would you look at this pathetic pony?”

The troll’s heart stopped beating as someone punched the box.

“This poor dummy couldn’t even afford one of those cheap hoof-made costumes those apple bumpkins are so proud of.”

A different pony laughed. “You’re right, Diamond Tiara. I bet a real ugly pony is under there. He’s so ashamed of himself that he can’t show his face.”

There was a shove on the side of the box so hard that it nearly pitched the troll onto his side.

“What’s the matter? Are you afraid to show your face, Ugly?”

The two fillies laughed at their own antics until a large hairy arm shot out from under the cardboard and grabbed Silver Spoon. The little filly’s screams were cut short as she disappeared into the box. Those who witnessed this laughed as the box went on its way, and Diamond Tiara took off screaming in terror. If someone wanted to play a joke on those two bullies, more power to them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rotnart looked around at all the weird looking costumed horses. “So this holiday is to celebrate you letting these idiots live another year if they give you some candy?”

“It would appear so,” replied the Pony of Shadows. “In ages past, these peasants would have given me five foals every year or I would destroy their town. I look forward to returning to the good old days.”

“You and me both,” replied the troll. And with that, the king strolled forward like he owned the place. Ponies everywhere stopped and stared at this newcomer in the hideous costume. One particularly scrawny pony dressed as a pirate came up to him. In a British accent he asked, “Wow, I’ve never seen a costume that ugly before. How’d you make it?”

Resisting the urge to turn the youngling into a doll where he stood, Rotnart answered, “Wood, rubber, and formaldehyde.” The troll stepped around the foal, but the young pony followed him.

“That is so cool. You know, there was this other pony that wore a costume kind of like yours a couple of days ago. He was practicing for Nightmare Night as a shaved minotaur. He looked ridiculous. You should have seen him.”

Rotnart rolled his eyes and kept walking.

“Oi, would you like to come with me to the Nightmare Moon statue to leave a candy offering?”

“No.”

“Ah, come on. All the other kids are going to be there. Just think how cool it would be if I got to introduce the scariest monster in Equestria to my class mates.”

The troll stopped walking as he took this information in. He had to keep himself from salivating there in the middle of the street. An opportunity like this was just what he was waiting for. “You know, that does sound like fun after all. Lead the way.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After getting away from the crowded streets of Ponyville, the young troll had wandered down a maze of hay bales. Rabuf sighed as he took off his compromised stealth suit he had spent hours making. It was a shame to throw it away. However, he did manage to grab himself an opossum. His brother would be pleased. Taking the small statue out of his pack, he examined the little wooden doll and wondered if it tasted good. Before he could find out, an ancient voice asked, “Youngun. Did you make that?”

Rabuf froze. He hadn’t realized he had come to the maze’s end. There in front of him was an old light-green pony dressed like a scarecrow. She was pointing at the wooden statue in his hands. The troll in response held up the box he had been wearing. “Yes, I did. It’s called the wheredgo. She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Made her with my own two hands. She gets .01 g.p.ms on the road and 30,000 off it. She’s yours for a song and dance.”

Granny Smith blinked a couple of times. “Do your parents know that you wandered up this way?”

“My mom’s a tree. My dad’s dead. He exploded when a human kissed him. I didn’t see it for myself because I was low-hanging fruit, dangling from my mom.”

Before Rabuf could say anything else, the earth pony held up her hoof. “Sonny, you’re stranger then Discord’s middle name, but you look like you got a strong back. I need some help filling up these bobbing baskets with apples and water. My grand children ain’t here yet, and I need to get this done. If ya help me out, I’ll give you some bits for ya trouble. Maybe it’ll pay for a cat scan or two. What do you say?”

The troll thought about this deal for a few seconds before saying, “Throw in a new wheredgo, and we got a deal.”

“A what? Never mind. Let’s shake on this before I take my meds and come to my senses.”

As Rabuf happily shook the hoof of Granny Smith, she immediately turned into a wooden doll.

The troll’s heart dropped into his bowels. “Oopsie. Uh, I’d better start filling up those baskets.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Minutes later, Rotnart found himself in the middle of a couple dozen foals and their parents. Despite being in a target-rich environment, he had to wait to make his move. It would look bad if he turned one of them into wood in front of such a large group. Perhaps his brother’s cardboard costume wasn’t as stupid as he first thought. “So, what’s supposed to happen now?”

“Well, after we leave some of our candy at the base of the statue, Nightmare Moon appears and accepts the offering,” answered Pip.

“Is she fat? I mean she’s got a lot of candy to eat there, and if she has to stop by all the towns in the area, she probably looks like a beached whale by the time she gets here.”

Pip laughed. “Naw, she’s a lovely princess. I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

But the princess was late, and the ponies became impatient. After half an hour of waiting, the ponies made their way back to town, leaving Pip and the troll king in front of a mountain of candy.

The little pirate looked very depressed. “I’m sure she’s still coming. Let’s give it a few more minutes. Please?”

Seeing no one else in sight, Rotnart began to reach for the foal to turn him into a doll. “Sure kid, take all the time you need.”

At that moment, the wind began to blow, and the sky filled with ominous grey clouds.

Pip smiled happily. “She’s here!”

A flash of lighting blinded the troll. After rubbing away the after images, a tall blue alicorn stood in front of the candy. She raised a hoof to the air and yelled. “Citizens of Ponyville, your princess has arrived.”

The king was nearly blown over by the sheer volume of the newcomer’s voice.

“Ah, young Pip, it is good to see you again. Where is everypony else?”

“They went back to town, your highness. Uh, you’re a little late.”

Luna’s eyes widened. “What? I am not.” The princess looked at the moon’s position and frowned. “Yes, I am. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, princess. I made a new friend.” Pip pointed to the troll. “Princess Luna, this is Rotnart, a fearsome troll from another world. He stayed with me waiting for you when everypony else had gone back.”

The alicorn smiled at Pip. “Did he now?” Turning her attention to the very worried-looking Rotnart, Luna said, “Thank you for staying with Pip. I know it meant a lot to him.”

The troll smiled nervously. “Uh, no problem.”

The princess looked at the both of them. “To reward you both for your vigil and your offering, I shall hereby spend one hour with the two of you. Come, my friends. Let us indulge in glorious fun.”

“Yay! Best Nightmare Night ever,” shouted Pip.

“F*&#ing hell . . . uh, I mean woo hoo!” cried Rotnart not so enthusiastically.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hold on, ya old opossum. Rabuf will save you!” Sprinting over to one of the baskets filled with water, Rabuf grabbed the pony that was obviously trying to drown itself. But as he lifted the opossum out of the water, the critter had turned to wood. Without a second glance, the troll tossed the doll into a different basket that was almost full of other dolls and ran to the next opossum that was trying to kill itself.

A few baskets down from the troll, a donkey lifted his head out of the water. “Hey! There’s no apples in this thing!”

Rabuf froze, arms just inches from the donkey’s face. He wasn’t expecting the cranky opossum to come up for air. “What now,” asked the troll?

“Are you deaf? There are no apples at the bottom. It’s just water.”

The troll looked from the donkey to the basket of water and then to the huge pyramid of apples off to the side. “Ohhhh, that’s what you’re doing! This all makes a lot more sense now. Yeah, I forgot the apples. Sorry about that.”

Before the angry donkey could scream at the incompetent worker, he looked around. None of the ponies he walked in here from the hay maze with were around. “Hey, where’s Matilda, Setting Sun, Uncle Fritz, and the rest of the Ponyville Old Timers Society?”

Rabuf debated if he should tell this animal the truth. “You know what?” And with that, the donkey met the same fate as his friends.

As the troll hurried from basket to basket dumping in apples, the next group of ponies walked in.

A tiny filly with a bow in her mane made her way up to Rabuf. “Hey. Where’s Granny Smith? And who are you?”

“Uh,” the troll frantically looked around until he layed eyes on a small building with a moon on its door. “She’s in there?”

“She’s in the outhouse?”

The troll frowned. “Aren’t all houses outhouses since they’re outside?”

Before the foal could answer, a much larger earth pony knocked on the door. “Are you in there Granny? Are ya okay?”

The troll started to sweat. He had to come up with something fast. He turned around so that none of the other ponies could see what he was up to. Clearing his throat he started to talk, but his voice was now coming from the outhouse. “Yeah, this is I, Sranny Gmith. I am not a troll.”

Big Mac paused. “Granny, are you okay? You sound awful.”

“Well I sound better than you look you fugly opossum . . . I’m sorry, dear. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Coughing to clear his lungs, Rabuf turned around and declared. “My name’s Rabuf. Granny put me in charge until her grandkids got here.”

Applebloom eyed the stranger suspiciously. “That’s us. You can go now. We’ll take it from here.”

Rabuf nodded enthusiastically. And with that, the troll scooped up his basket of dolls and made his way back through the maze.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Daddy, I’m telling you something grabbed her from underneath a cardboard box. I can’t find her anywhere. I think something bad happened to Silver Spoon.”

Filthy Rich was barely paying any attention to his daughter. He was too busy thinking about how to make more money. “Oh, your friend is fine, princess. It was probably Rainbow Dash pulling a Nightmare Night prank. Heh, I did that a lot, too, when I was her age.”

The pink foal shivered. “That didn’t feel like a prank, daddy.”

Before her father could reply, he bumped into a pony in a hideous costume carrying a basket of wooden dolls. The figures went everywhere, and Filthy’s jaw dropped. He had never seen such detailed statues anywhere. Not even in the Canterlot museums. He picked up one of the figures and knew then and there he had money in his hands. “These are amazing. Sir, did you make these?”

Rotnart shook his head. “No, I didn’t make these opossums.” He picked up two of the dolls and explained. “You see, when a mommy opossum and a daddy opossum love each other very much, they make little opossums. I’m here to turn little opossums into wood.”

Filthy Rich nodded, not really caring what the other guy was saying. “How much do you want for these sculptures?”

The troll frowned. “What do I want for the wooden opossums? My brother and I want power. We become powerful when we turn opossums into dolls.”

The greedy pony nodded absently. “I hear you, friend. But to get power, you need money. And I think you and I can sell these dolls to make money, lots of money.”

“Daddy.”

Mr. Rich looked down at his daughter.

The little filly held up one of the dolls in her trembling hooves. “This one looks exactly like Silver Spoon. It even has her costume details, the one she was wearing tonight.”

Filthy Rich took the doll from his daughter and shrugged, “I’m sure that’s just a coincidence, sweetheart.” The pony then started to laugh. “I mean how could this pony carve a statue like that in one night?”

Rabuf laughed with Filthy for a few moments before saying, “I don’t know why we’re laughing, but I enjoy it.”

“How many of these dolls do you have, friend?”

“I lost count, but then again I don’t know what numbers are.”

Filthy counted them all and did a quick calculation. “I think we can sell these things at 50 bits a pop, maybe more. If you’d come by my stand near town hall, I can guarantee you we can sell all of these dolls by the end of the night. You and your brother will become very rich and powerful.”

The troll’s eyes lit up at that. “My brother does like power. And I think I do too. I don’t know, cause I’ve never had it before.”

The older pony held out his hoof. “Do we have a deal?”

Rabuf was about to shake the pony’s hoof, but at the last moment pulled his hand back. “We got a deal. Sorry I can’t shake. I got hand herpes. I wouldn’t want to give it to you.”

Filthy immediately retracted his hoof and wiped it on his jacket. “Come, Diamond Tiara. Daddy has business to attend to.” Hearing no reply from his daughter, the older pony looked up and down the maze. He shrugged and declared, “She’s probably bobbing for apples. Come on, friend. Let’s get you set up.”

The Value of a One-Legged Cat

Twilight smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. With Rarity’s help, they had made a very convincing Clover the Clever costume. True, it was not as ornate as her Starswirl the Bearded robes, but it had its own simple charms. As she adjusted her tan traveler’s cloak, her eyes locked on the reflection of a large book on a nearby table. The alicorn’s mood changed from joy to melancholy. She picked up the book with her magic and absently flipped through it.

“Hey, what do you think of my costume? Do you think Rarity will like it?”

Twilight looked up to see Spike had painted himself dark green. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“An emerald. This costume is easy for me to pull off because I don’t have to paint my stomach.” Spike was about to say more when he saw that his friend was holding Ernest’s book. “Are you still upset that he left that here?”

Twilight nodded. “I should have made sure he had this with him. Now he has to explain to Old Lady Hackmore why he doesn’t have her book.”

Spike looked at the picture depicted in the book. It showed a grotesque troll holding a wooden doll high over its head in front of a warped tree. “Hey Twilight, do you think Ernest was telling the truth about those trolls he fought in his world?”

“Well, I learned a lot from our trip to the Crystal Empire. Before we left, I spent some time in the library. I found an ancient tome describing the history of King Sombra and his allies during the Crystal Heart Wars. There was indeed a tribe of trolls that he corrupted.”

“But he banished them to Tartarus, didn’t he?”

Twilight shook her head. “No, Spike, he didn’t. The trolls were decimated during the siege of the Crystal Empire. The Crystal Heart killed almost all the trolls during the fighting. When Sombra finally wrested control of the Crystal Empire from the two sisters, only one troll out of the thousands survived. But this lone survivor was powerful beyond measure.”

A block of ice began to form in Spike’s stomach. “What happened to the troll?”

“Thinking he was victorious, he rewarded his champion. Sombra opened a door to another world so that the troll could conquer it and rule it for himself. Soon after his champion left, the two sisters retook the Crystal Empire and banished Sombra.”

“Do you think Trantor and the troll from the Crystal Heart Wars is one and the same?”

“I don’t know Spike. But there is a legend that the librarian told me. She said that Sombra gave this troll a book of all his spells before sending him through the portal. If the legend is true, then the troll in theory could find its way back here.”

Spike gulped and stared at the page.

Panicked knocking on the door startled the scared dragon.

“Ms. Twilight, I mean, Princess Twilight. I need your help. Please!” The voice from outside the library was very frantic.

From across the room Twilight opened the door and frowned. “Diamond Tiarra?”

The pink earth pony’s eyes were wide with fear “I, I think something happened to Silver Spoon. Something grabbed her and turned her into a doll.”

In a calm voice that did not betray her rising apprehension, she asked “Spike, could you bring me Ernest’s book please.”

Nodding, the baby dragon obeyed and brought the large tome over to his friend.

“Is this what you saw?” asked Twilight.

The filly at first winced at the unpleasant picture, but soon her gaze focused on the troll and the doll held in its hand. “Yeah, this pony’s costume looked a lot like this. And this guy had a huge basket full of wooden pony dolls. They were of ponies from here in Ponyville. I know this sounds crazy but these dolls looked exactly like Silver Spoon, that cranky donkey, Matilda . . .”

Twilight held up a hoof. She had heard enough. “Where did you see this pony?”

“In the hay maze. He was coming from Granny Smith’s apple bobbing stand.”

Twilight turned and looked at her pet who was perched on a nearby tree branch, listening to every word. “Owlowiscious, I need you to find Fluttershy. Tell her to meet me at Sugarcube Corner. I know this is Nightmare Night, but tell her this is important.”

Nodding, the owl took off through an open window.

“Spike, you get Rarity. I’ll find Rainbow Dash and Pinkie. We’ll meet at Granny Smith’s apple bobbing stand. Hopefully, Applejack will be there.”

“Why don’t we just find this thing and douse it with milk? Isn’t that what Ernest did?” Spike suggested.

Twilight nodded. “Good idea Spike. We’ll stop by some of the ice cream stands on the way. I don’t want to destroy this troll if we can avoid it, but we should be prepared for the worst.”

“What should I do?” Diamond Tiara asked.

Twilight thought for a moment before saying, “I need you to find Scootaloo.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rotnart’s grip tightened on the rubber spider in his sweaty hand. Before him was a net, a mere twenty feet away from him. The stakes-- bragging rights for this year’s Nightmare Night spider throw. He needed to hurl this sorry excuse for an arachnid at the dead center of the sticky bull’s eye.

“Hurry up, Rotnart. Throw the thing already. We got loads more to do after this,” squeaked Pip.

The troll ignored the foal and drew back his arm to throw the eight-legged projectile.

(Cough).

The noise completely threw off the troll’s aim, and he missed the target completely. He rounded on Princess Luna. “You did that on purpose!”

Feigning shock, the alicorn replied, “What? Friend Rotnart, how could you accuse me of such trickery? It was mere coincidence. I needed to clear my throat the moment you were taking your turn. You believe me, don’t you?”

The troll glared at her for a few more moments, but he could not stop himself from laughing. “Trantor’s nuts. I would have done the same thing. Well played.”

As the other ponies cheered their princess, Rotnart received an irritating message from the Pony of Shadows. “What are you doing?”

The troll rolled his eyes. “What the hell does it look like? I’m blending in.”

“No, you’re not. You’re wasting time having fun with children. Your father would be ashamed of you.”

“Well, his opinion doesn’t count for much since he’s dead. And what’s wrong with having some fun while I work on world domination?” The troll king winced. He had said that a bit too loud, and some of the other ponies were looking at him in a funny way.

“Do not let these creatures sway you from the path you’re on. When one has power, true power, friends will come to you. I guarantee it.”

In a quieter voice, Rotnart replied, “Yeah, whatever. Why don’t you pester my brother for a change?”

The voice hesitated before replying. “I can’t”

“You’re kidding. Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

“I know not. I can’t establish a mental connection. I assumed he at least possessed the cognitive faculties of a newt, but I was mistaken.”

The troll wanted to tear his hair out in frustration. But instead, he took a deep breath and asked, “Where is he?”

“I know not that either. I only see and hear what you see and hear.”

Before Rotnart could berate his ally, he felt a tapping on his leg. He looked down and saw Pip.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one important, special, or useful in any way. What do you need?”

“Some of my class mates say there’s this one bloke in the middle of town selling really life-like wooden pony dolls. Me and princess Luna are going to check this guy out. Are you coming?”

Rotnart’s eyes started to twitch uncontrollably. “Like a filly in heat.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bon Bon looked at Lyra and sighed. She was hoping her best friend would perk up during the Nightmare Night celebration. Sadly, this had not been the case. Lyra hadn’t been herself since a couple days ago when she saw that pony dressed as a human. She was still so adamant that the pony at the bakery was a legit human that she had done her best to copy his costume. Garbed in denim pants and vest and wearing a strange-looking hat, she got plenty of looks. Some even recognized the costume from a couple of days ago.

To try and lighten her friend’s mood, she suggested, “Hey Lyra, I hear there’s somepony selling top-notch pony figures at Filthy Rich’s booth. You wanna check it out?”

Her friend shrugged, “Sure, I guess.”

Shortly thereafter, Bon Bon and Lyra found themselves at the end of a long, slow-moving line.

“Wow, this guy must be really popular.”

Lyra nodded absently as the line crept forward at a snail’s pase. Eventually, Lyra caught sight of one of the dolls that was sold to an ecstatic foal.

The child laughed with delight. “I can’t believe how much this doll looks like grandpa, mommy.”

The mother smiled. “I know, sweetheart. We need to show this to him.”

For some reason Lyra began to feel uncomfortable. There was something off about that doll. It seemed almost too life-like, and the look of terror carved into the doll’s face was chilling. But then again, it was Nightmare Night. Things were supposed to be scary.

Finally, the pair of ponies made it to within shouting distance of the booth. And that was when Lyra beheld the merchants. She recognized the smug, greasy features of Filthy Rich, but that was not what was causing the blood to drain from her face. Grabbing her friend, Lyra pointed at the thing handing a doll to another happy customer. “Bon Bon, that’s a troll.”

Lifting the shades of her “Ponies in Black” costume, Bon Bon looked at the ugly merchant. “Is that what he’s dressed as? I thought he was a short orc.”

“No, I mean he’s really a troll.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she continued, “I think he’s turning ponies into dolls to create a troll army. He must have warped one of the trees in the Everfree Forest. Those trees are very old and more suited to being converted into an incubator.”

Bon Bon looked at her friend and laughed. “And I thought you were only crazy when it came to humans.”

“Darn it, I’m being serious.”

The earth pony closed her eyes and sighed. “I was hoping you were not going to say that. Lyra, I love you, but you are going to have to dial back your enthusiasm for weird stuff. I mean, listen to yourself. Trolls can’t use magic to turn ponies into dolls and warp trees.”

Lyra nodded. “I know. But there was this one tribe of trolls a long time ago who Sombra corrupted that did just that. And the thing up there looks just like one. He looks exactly like the pictures in my books that I got from the Crystal Empire.”

“Okay, look. As long as you don’t try to kidnap him and take him to Canterlot like you did with that “human” a couple of days ago, there won’t be a problem. I’m going up there and getting one of those freaky-looking dolls. Are you coming with me or not?”

“No. We should be getting help. That troll is dangerous.”

Bon Bon shook her head in bewilderment. “No, he’s not. That is somepony dressed up to look like a troll. Just like that pony was in Sugarcube Corner. I’ll tell you what. You stay here while I go buy myself a doll. Okay?”

Before Lyra could answer, the line moved forward, and to her surprise, they were face to face with the troll.

“Well hello, opos--- I mean poynays . . . did I say that right that time?” the troll asked, looking to Filthy Rich.

The other pony shrugged. “Eh, close enough.”

This seemed to please the Rabuf.

“Everything here is marked down for the low, low price of 50 bits per miniature. Plus tax,” Filthy stated in a giddy voice.

Both ponies looked at the dolls, but only Lyra could see the evil that was before her. She recognized students from Cheerilee’s class, tenants from the old folks home, friends and ponies she had seen in passing: all were represented on the table. The unicorn had to fight to keep the rising horror she felt in her chest from showing on her face.

“Hey, this one looks just like Colgate,” Bon Bon noted happily as she examined the statue.

The troll rubbed his black eye. “Yeah, that one was a pain to make.”

“I’ll take it. How do you make these?” asked the mystified earth pony. “They look so life-like, and I know she was wearing this exact toothpaste costume tonight. How’d you carve this so fast?”

Rabuf shrugged. “It ain’t hard. Hey boss, can I show her?”

Filthy nodded as he counted Bon Bon’s bits. “Make it quick.”

Lyra’s ears perked up at this. “Bon Bon, no! He’ll get you too.”

Filthy Rich sneered down at the mint-colored unicorn. “Hey, if you ain’t buying, get out of the line.”

Latching onto her friend so that she couldn’t leave, Lyra snarled at the duded-up pony. “How can you stand there and let him turn us into wooden dolls?”

The crowd started to talk amongst themselves and give the mint-coated pony strange looks.

Filthy let out a hearty belly laugh. “Aw Lyra, you’re a hoot. This fine fella isn’t a troll. He’s just . . . different. And besides, Trolls can’t use magic. Hey, why don’t you tell us something? Did you ever manage to find that human who escaped from Sugarcube Corner?”

At this, the ponies crowding the booth started to giggle. The memory of how Lyra acted at the bakery had made the rounds in Ponyville.

Turning to his partner, the greasy pony continued, “You should have seen it, Rabuf. There was this one pony passing through town in a shaved minotaur costume. Pinkie Pie throws him a party. All was going great until Lyra grabs this poor son-of-a-gun and starts screaming that she has a real-life human. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” Mimicking Lyra’s voice, Filthy started to shake an imaginary pony while shouting, “I got a live one, Bon Bon. It’s the real McCoy this time, I swear.”

All the ponies started laughing hysterically. They remembered all too well what happened, and Filthy Rich’s description was very spot on.

Lyra fought back the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “He was a real human. And that is a real troll. I can prove it.”

Ignoring the mare, Filthy called out to the crowd, “Who else wants a doll? Ten bits off to the first five customers. Come one, come all.”

The surge of ponies separated the two friends from each other. The last Lyra saw of Bon Bon was her friend’s black outline disappearing around the booth’s corner. “Bon Bon. No!” The unicorn gathered energy to cast a magic missile at the troll, but she was too late. The troll was no longer there, and too many other ponies were blocking her aim. Taking matters into her own hooves, she galloped to the rear of the booth and kicked open the door. She was just in time to witness her best friend turn into wood and shrink.

The troll for his part pulled at his beard in thought as the mint-colored unicorn froze in shock. “Uh, yeah, I’ll give you this doll for half off if you can keep this hush, hush.”

Snapping out of her world-shattering surprise, Lyra snatched the doll out of the troll’s hand with her magic and bolted out the door.

Rabuf cringed as the light-green pony ran into the night. Filthy was not going to be happy at the loss of repeat business.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Interesting, it would seem that Mr. Rich is the proprietor of the one who makes the wooden figures,” observed Princess Luna. The trio were standing some feet away gawking at the ponies swarming a large, gaudy carnival stand.

“Do you think he has any left?” asked Pip.

“He da-- . . .” Rotnart started to say, but a potent look from Luna made him clean up his vocabulary. “I mean, he darn well better.”

Sensing the troll’s anger, the alicorn asked, “Is everything alright, Rotnart? You seem more upset than usual.”

Before the troll could reply, an evil voice whispered, “Have her make you a path, you moron. She’s a princess. Use her.”

Pip saw the troll freeze with a stunned look on his face. “Oi, Rotnart. You okay? You look like you just drank a really cold slushy.”

The troll king blinked and rubbed his head. “I just had a brilliant idea. Princess, can you perhaps use your royal influence to get us close to that stand?”

Luna hesitated, “Yes, I suppose I could, but . . .”

“Oh, please, please, pretty please, princess. I’d really like to try and buy a doll,” pleaded Pip.

The alicorn sighed. “Oh, I suppose I can exert my royal privilege at least once tonight. Guards?”

With a single word, two bat-ponies descended to the ground without a sound. One of them drew an ebony trumpet and blew a series of low, mournful notes. As one, the crowd turned and parted to make way for the approaching alicorn and her entourage.

“Your Highness. How may this lowly servant serve you this lovely evening?” groveled Filthy.

Luna didn’t answer at first as she browsed through the assortment of wooden dolls. “These dolls are amazing, Mr. Rich. I’ve never seen such craftsmanship, not since the days of Sombra.” The Princess pondered this disturbing thought for a few moments before dismissing it. After all, those terrible days happened a long time before she was banished. Surely that old evil was behind her. “Who made these?”

“A young fellow from out of town. I found him coming from Granny’s hay maze, and I set him up here.”

“I’d like to meet this pony. Where is he?”

“He’ll be back pretty soon. I think he went to find an outhouse.”

Pip laughed. “I got the one I want picked out. It looks like Silver Spoon, and she’s getting the poo scared out of her. What do you think, Rotnart? Do you want one?” Hearing no reply, the foal looked around in the crowd for his new friend. “Hey, Princess, where’d Rotnart go?”

“I’m not sure, Pip. But he’s probably nearby. Come, the troll king shall find us at yon pumpkin chuckin grounds as we indulge in more fun.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After finishing his business, Rabuf started to make his way back to the stand. But before he could take a step, he heard a strange noise. “Pssst.” The troll looked straight up at the sky and saw nothing. He could have sworn it was a crocodile flying past. “Pssst!” There it was again, louder than before. This time Rabuf looked straight down. Was the grass talking to him? As soon as he bent down to listen, a large rock sailed over his head.

“Mother F#&$er!”

Rabuf looked up. He recognized that angry voice. Sure enough, there was his older brother, frantically gesturing his way. The younger troll smiled and bounded over to his older sibling. But instead of getting a hug like he’d hoped, Rotnart grabbed him and shoved him down a dark alley between two buildings.

“What in the name of all that is troll are you doing out there?” Rotnart asked, trembling with rage.”

“I’m turning opossums into little wooden opossums. I thought that’s what I was supposed to do?”

The troll king rubbed his hateful, bloodshot eyes. He drew a deep breath to calm himself. “Brother, I’ve seen some F#&*ed up $&*t in the past few days, and most of it was done by you. But what you’re doing out there, right now, is just sick. I would have never thought you’d sell the dolls back to their families and friends.”

Rabuf blushed. “Ahh, thanks boss.”

Rotnart shot forward, his vicelike hands linking around Rabuf’s throat. “That was not a compliment. Who told you to sell the dolls? Was it that asshole pony you were working with?”

Rabuf nodded as his brother’s grip tightened, choking off air to his brain.

“Troll King, there’s a problem,” declared the Pony of Shadows.

“You think?” spat Rotnart. “How many dolls did you sell, you traitor?”

Rabuf shrugged, since he couldn’t speak.

“Release him. Our enemies are gathering. If those six ponies join forces with Princess Luna, then our plan will be ruined beyond repair.”

The troll king let go of his brother who collapsed to the ground wheezing “Thanks, boss. My neck feels much better.”

Ignoring Rabuf, Rotnart asked, “How do you know where those ponies are? You’ve been about as useful as a one-legged cat trying to bury a turd this whole damn night.”

“The six have just now gathered together. Even in my weakened state, I can feel their energy from the castle. I suggest you two retrieve what dolls are left and head for the Tree of Harmony.”

Rotnart thought for a moment. “We’ll never make it, at least not both of us. Can you lend me your powers for a short time?”

There was a pause before the phantom pony replied, “Yes.”

The king turned to his brother and helped him to his feet. “Rabuf. Brother. I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing. Maybe the hardest thing you’re ever going to do in your life. But the future of our race is now in your hands. I need you to concentrate and pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In a clearing at the very edge of Ponyville, DJ P0N-3 made the final adjustments to her Percussion Symphony 10000 Moon Mixer. Sitting down on the stage she and her helper had erected, she called over to her assistant, “Hey, Iron Will, you about done with the lights?”

“Yeah. Screwing in the last bulb now. If they can’t see the light, they’re not too bright.”

The DJ smiled as a thought occurred to her. “Hey, have you seen that guy in the shaved minotaur costume yet?”

Iron Will stopped what he was doing for a moment before picking up where he left off, “No,” he replied a little too angrily.

The unicorn smiled, knowing she had struck a nerve. “Hey, it’s no big deal. I was just wondering. I wanted to get his autograph for beating a legit minotaur in a hoof-wrestling match. That was epic.”

Nostrils flaring, Iron Will turned around and replied, “He got lucky. He must have been a unicorn in disguise and used his magic to dull my wits. If somepony cheats, make them weep.”

Vinyl Scratch nodded. “Yeah, there was something off about that pony. I mean, who dresses like that? That’s like the fourteenth weirdest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Mark my words. If I see that, that cheater tonight, I’ll peel him like a banana and squish his gooey bits between my fingers.”

The unicorn raised her eyebrows. “Dang, Dude. Didn’t you have seminars or something teaching ponies how to chillax? Cause, I can see your head veins from here.”

Before the irate minotaur could reply, a mint-colored unicorn dressed in a denim vest and twill cap came galloping out of nowhere. She was grasping a creepy-looking doll with her magic. Seeing the two entertainers, she hurried over their way.

“Please, I need help! He, he, the troll turned Bon Bon into doll,” replied the distraught pony.

At this, DJ P0N-3 raised her sunglasses off her eyes. “What?”

“That troll, that thing that’s with Filthy Rich selling wooden dolls. They’re not wooden dolls, they’re real ponies. They were turned into dolls by the troll. We gotta stop him.”

Iron Will took a close look at the figure Lyra was carrying. He had seen Bon Bon earlier tonight, and this doll was a spitting image of her. “Take me to this troll.”

Vinyl Scratch looked at the minotaur in surprise. “Really? You’re going to check this out?”

“If somepony’s in trouble, all our problems double. Let’s go, Lyra.”

“Hey, wait up,” called the DJ.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pip sighed as he watched Princess Luna load and fire a pumpkin-laden catapult. The vegetable hit the bull’s eye dead on. The little pony stamped his hooves with the rest of Luna’s adoring subjects, but his enthusiasm was gone.

“Fret not little Pip. I am sure King Rotnart will grace us with his presence again before the celebration ends.”

The foal looked up at his favorite princess. “You think so? I just don’t want him to leave without me getting to say goodbye first. I know he’s a foul-mouth git, but he’s a good friend. I mean, he was the only one who stayed with me waiting for you when everypony else had gone back to the party.”

Luna nodded in understanding. “A pony like that is indeed hard to come by. I am very happy that you got to meet him.”

“Me, too,” a familiar voice said.

Both ponies turned in surprise to see Rotnart coming down the road.

Pip galloped up to his friend and hugged him. “I thought you’d gone away, and I wouldn’t get the chance to say goodbye.”

The troll froze. He had not expected to be hugged. That was how his father had died, by a hug and a kiss from Ernest P. Worrell. Carefully, Rotnart patted the little pirate’s hat. “I wouldn’t do that to ya, kid. We’re friends.”

Pip looked up at the troll. “Hey, do you want to see my . . .” The foals words were drowned out by something very noisy coming up from behind them.

The troll king turned, and what he saw was like a blow to his stomach. The vehicle had changed since he’d last laid eyes on it. If anything, the truck of Troll Fighter One looked even more formidable as it sped down the dirt road towards him. It was as if a mad scientist had taken Worrell’s truck and made it ten times faster and meaner. As it came to a stop, a large group of costumed ponies gathered around to see what was happening.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Twilight’s breath caught in her throat. That troll was way too close to Princess Luna. And why was that foal hugging that monster? Swallowing her fear, she said to Scootaloo, “This is close enough.”

The foal nodded and stopped the truck. “Are you guys sure you can handle that thing?” Scoots asked, pointing at the troll. “This baby has some pretty sweet tricks under its hood.” The little pegasus patted the dashboard lovingly.

From the back seat, Rainbow Dash ruffled the driver’s mane. “Naw, we got this one, squirt. Just sit back, and keep the engine running. I wanna go for a ride when this is over.”

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Twilight examined the situation. Turning to the cyan pegasus, she asked, “Rainbow Dash, can you . . .”

“Stick this cup of ice cream up the troll’s nose? On it.” And with that, the flyer shot out of the truck’s rolled-down window, straight for the troll.

“No! Wait!” but the plea came much too late.

Quicker than a rattle snake, Rotnart brought up his arm and caught the pony by the throat. In desperation, the pony smeared the dairy treat all over the troll’s arm. Rotnart smiled. “Nice try, but the one-legged cat has cured me of that weakness.” These were the last words Rainbow Dash heard before she was turned to wood.

It took a moment before the realization of what just happened could sink in. This was all the time that Rotnart needed. Before the first shrieks of terror from the crowd could be screamed, the troll was already moving.

The king pivoted on his heel and launched himself at the night princess with speed that rivaled the Wonder Bolt Wannabe. Luna’s guards tried to intercept the attacking troll, but they were swatted aside as if they were gnats. Luna, a veteran of countless battles, recovered from this treachery and brought up a magic barrier to defend herself. But with one massive blow, the troll shattered the shield, and with the gentlest of gestures, touched Luna on the muzzle.

Nostrils flaring in rage, Luna blasted the troll.

The troll left enormous ditches in the earth where his hands slowed his momentum.

“Rotnart?”

The troll looked behind him. In the midst of dozens of ponies fleeing for their lives was Pip. He was crying and staring at him with the strangest of looks. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t scared, he was heart broken. Clutching the Rainbow Dash doll in his little hooves, he asked, “Why?”

The king never got to reply. One of the lunar guards swept down and took the little foal away, just before a lavender beam struck the troll in the face. Spitting out a tooth, the troll dizzily got to his feet and was immediately shot back down by the lavender unicorn.

The troll tried to rise again, but a strong hoof pinned him to the ground.

“This is for Granny and Dashy,” yelled Applejack before she began to pound him into the dirt.

The pony reared up and brought her shod hooves down on the troll. Rotnart could feel something break in his chest.

“Wait,” the evil alicorn commanded.

The troll did as he was commanded and let the pony hit him again. He could feel his already abused face begin to buckle under the mare’s hooves. The evil alicorn’s power was drying up. His ally was close to collapse, funneling her power through their mind link. He felt every single one of his broken ribs, torn mucles, and pulverized teeth. He and the Pony of Shadows knew there was enough energy between them for one attack before he blacked out.

“Wait,” the same dark voice repeated.

“Applejack! Applejack! That’s enough!” a sweet, shy voice pleaded.

“Darling, please stop. He’s down; you got him.”

Rotnart looked with his hazy vision to see four mares. A pink, a white, and a yellow pony were all trying to wrestle the berserk orange pony off him. It was at this moment the troll noticed a wooden doll in the form of an old mare tied around the farmpony’s neck. No wonder she was mad.

“Now!” the Pony of Shadows shouted.

Surging forward, the troll touched all four ponies in quick succession and collapsed to the ground unconscious.

Pinkie poked the troll a couple of times before yelling, “We did it! Victory party at my place tonight!”

Rubbing her sore hooves, Applejack snarled, “When that critter wakes up, he’s gonna turn everypony back to the way they were, or else.”

Rarity nodded. “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was pretty bad,” Fluttershy replied dryly. “I just hope we didn’t hurt him too badly.”

“Oh, no, not you too!”

The four mares turned to face Twilight.

“What’s wrong, darling?” asked Rarity.

“Look at yourselves.”

The mares did. Each one of them was ever so slowly shrinking and turning into wood.

Fighting down a wave of panic, Applejack nearly yelled at Twilight, “Sugar Cube, go get Princess Luna. She’ll know what to do.”

Her voice choked with sadness, Twilight replied, “She, she . . . can’t talk. She’s changing just like the four of you. I don’t know how to help her. All of my spells aren’t working.”

“What about Zecora?” asked Pinkie. “I bet she can whip up something that can help, or at least keep the termites away.”

Twilight seized upon this ray of hope like a drowning pony to a plank of wood. “Pinkie, you’re a genius. I’ll get one of the lunar guards to look after you. Just stay calm. I’ll be back with Zecora.” Taking off into the night sky, she scanned the town as quickly as she could. But time was against her, she had to find a costumed zebra in a town full of costumed ponies. Panic flooded back into the alicorn as she screamed, “Zecora! Where are you?”

Monster Cart

Ernest tightened the last bolt and smiled. While toying with the wrench, the redneck said happily, “Yes, sir. When vice-principal Luna hired me as a temporary janitor for Canterlot High School, little did she know that she had employed Ernest P. Worrell, Master of Mechanical Marvels, Doge of Drills, and Nemesis of Nails. For I have done this institution a great service of creating the great, the powerful, the ---"

“Hi, Ernest.”

The surprised custodian dropped the wrench. He turned to see Sunset Shimmer looking at him with an amused smile.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked.

“When one treasures one’s own company, one is never without stimulating conversation. How was school?”

The teenager shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual. Hated, misunderstood, belittled in front of my peers.”

Ernest frowned, “Pears? Who cares what pears think? Now granted, it’s a tasty snack that’s good for ya, but I wouldn’t worry about what it thought. They’re just funny-looking apples. What do they know?”

Sunset couldn’t help but shake her head and giggle. For some reason, seeing this goofy alien from another world was the highlight of her day. She turned her attention to the machine Ernest was working on. “What are you doing with the golf cart?”

The redneck beamed proudly. “I’d thought you’d never ask. You know, Sunny, golf carts are wasted on golf. They can be used for so much more than hauling around men in funny skirts. With a single cart, some elbow grease, and good ole American ingenuity, one can reinvent the janitorial profession and increase one’s personal productivity by another twelve Worrells. So I just commandeer one and make some modest modifications.”

“Modest?” asked the teenager in disbelief. “It looks like a mini-monster truck. You welded hydraulic arms to the sides, replaced the dashboard with a keyboard and monitor, bolted a bulldozer blade to the front, and replaced the electric motor with . . . what is that? Does it work?” She looked at the janitor curiously.

“I was about to take the machine a.k.a Willie out for a test run. My friend Vern taught me all about quantum mechanics, hydraulics, and artificial intelligence. You want to come?”

Sunset took a step back from the questionable vehicle. “Maybe some other time. I actually want to talk to you about something.”

Ernest’s voice took on a nervous tone as he replied, “Before you say anything, I want you to know I had nothing to do with the toilets backing up in the teacher wreck room. Some kid must have snuck in there and flushed that gallon of Flex Seal. But, it was probably just to help stop those darn things from leaking all the time. Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh, kids these days.”

Sunset didn’t reply. Instead it seemed like she was in her own world. She leaned against one of the work tables in the custodian work area and marshaled her thoughts. “Ernest, could I ask you something?”

The redneck frowned, “Sure Sunny, is something wrong?"

“Yes, no, I . . . you know that the Halloween school festival is tonight, right?”

“Oh, yeah, luckily I got the night off so I can disco, hip-hop, and chow-down with the cool kids.”

“Well, at the end of the festival is the play The Eternal Student, and I have the main roll of the ghost that forever haunts the school.”

Ernest’s eyes lit up. “That’s great. I fancy myself as a bit of an actor myself. I can give you some pointers if you like. I got a great range of voices too, like my Canterlot voice. Here’s a sample. With a Scottish accent the redneck said, “Keep your heads down, lads. Enemy arrows have the right of way on a red light but tracers work both ways. Don’t worry about the hostages. Any one of us can whip a hostage. And no matter what, always remember anything you do can get you killed, including doing nothing.” Returning to his normal voice the janitor asked, “What do you think?”

“Uh, you sounded great,” Sunset said gently. “But my question is, do you think I should trade roles with someone else, or not even show up?”

The redneck was shocked. “Why would you do that? You’re head ghost. You never saw Casper quit when he got real nervous.”

The teenager sighed. “It’s not that I’m nervous about the part. The only reason I got the lead role was because I bullied and threatened anyone who showed interest in playing the ghost. I was a real different person at the beginning of the year, Ernest. I feel like I don’t deserve to be up there with my fellow students that I’ve harassed.”

Ernest thought about this for a moment. “Have you talked to your other buddies about this?”

Sunset looked down at her feet. “No. As much as I like Pinkie, Fluttershy, and the rest of the girls, you’re the one I can talk to without feeling judged.”

The troll fighter grinned. “Ah shucks, Sunny, you’re pretty good yourself. I can’t just tell anyone I’m an alien from a different dimension. And I appreciate you not giving me over to whatever passes as Area 51 around here.”

Before the teenager could ask what Area 51 was, Ernest continued, “But if I were you, I’d definitely talk to the gang about this.”

“Why?” asked Sunset.

Ernest put his hands in his pockets in a shy manner. “Let’s just say I’ve overheard Rarity, A.J., and R.D. discussing an array of topics, some of which made me a little uncomfortable.”

Sunset raised her eyebrows.

“It’s not what you think,” Ernest said quickly. “I was in the air duct scraping out cake batter and glitter when I got stuck, and they walked right underneath me. They were talking about inviting you to a slumber party after the festival.”

The former delinquent blinked in surprise. Sure the girls were hanging out with her more since the time she tried to mind control the school, but she did not suspect she was making a great impression. She felt awkward around her fellow students and never knew what to say. She just felt guilty all the time and did her best to make things right. “Really? They were talking about me?”

The custodian frowned and concentrated. “Yeah, I think so. I couldn’t hear much after chief janitor Cranky turned on the AC. You never notice just how big, scary, and loud those fans are until your nose hair is being trimmed by them. Ya know what I mean?”

Sunset considered this new information without speaking.

Ernest wanted to say more, but one look at the wall clock made him think better of it. “Well, Sunny, gotta go. The shrubs aren’t gonna trim themselves . . . at least I hope they don’t. That’s my job.” After grabbing a pair of pruning shears, Ernest said over his shoulder. “I think I saw the gang by the front statue. If you’re heading that way, tell Fluttershy to tell Rimshot I said ‘Hi.’”

Minutes Later

Ernest watched the girls from afar and nodded in approval. Sunset was talking to Fluttershy, Apple Jack, and the rest of her friends, and it looked like things were going well. They were all pouring over papers and making notes between the lines. Pinkie for her part was in the middle of writing when her hair started twitching erratically. She looked over at something and touched Sunset’s shoulder and tilted her head in the direction she was looking at. Following the hyper teenager’s gaze, Ernest saw vice-principal Luna approaching the group of girls.

Ernest winced. “Oh, I hope you’re not in trouble, Sunny. I don’t think we got the budget if you blasted another crater in the school.”

“Ahem.”

The troll fighter cringed. He knew at once who was standing behind him. Putting on a big, happy grin, Ernest turned around. “Hi, Mr. Cranky, Cranky Doodle, Sir. What can I do ya for?”

The balding man in overalls was half the red neck’s height but twice as broad. Cranky Doodle was the meanest custodian in the county, and he looked the part. Sporting large cauliflower ears, a barrel chest, and huge gorilla-arms, the man was said to be as strong as an ass and just as cantankerous.

“What in God’s name is a bucked-up golf cart doing in my garage, Worrell?”

“Uh, I rescued it. Yeah, I rescued it from the clutches of Dr. Otto von Schnick -ick-ick-ick. Otto was going to use that poor cart for experimentation.” Ernest seamlessly switched personalities to that of a mad scientist. “Oh yes. This is perfect. I, Dr. Otto von Schnick –ick-ick-ick will harness the power of evil magnets to transmorgify this mild-mannered golf cart into a weapon of mass moral dubiousness. It will grab, push, and do things so unspeakable people will talk about them for generations. Mwha, ha, ha, ha.”

Cranky didn’t even raise an eyebrow at Ernest’s gyrations. “Son, if you had told me you boosted that thing from the Crystal Prep snobs down the road as a Halloween prank, I would have promoted and recommend you for a raise.”

Ernest snapped his fingers in frustration. “Is it too late to change my answer?”

The head janitor started to crack his knuckles. “But since thisschool has a golf cart missing and there just so happens to be one in my garage right next to a canabalized bus, you leave me no choice.”

Ernest gulped.

“You’re pulling a triple shift tonight. You ain’t leaving until the last dog dies, comes back as a zombie, and dies again. Tonight you’re cleaning all the toilets, the sinks, the cafeteria, the floors, the classrooms, and picking up every piece of Halloween party crap that lands anywhere on this campus. And if I catch you tinkering or bucking around with any other vehicle that belongs to this school without asking me first, you’re fired. Capiche?”

The troll fighter nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. I just about capiched myself. These hands will never manipulate the mandibles of another mechanical masterpiece without your permission.”

“Good. Tomorrow you’re going to put that golf cart back where you got it, just like it was. Don’t push me on this, Worrell. Just because the higher-ups like you doesn’t mean I can’t can your hide for not following the rules.” With a final glare, Cranky left the chastised Ernest to his trimming.

Moments after the head custodian had departed, a familiar voice said gently, “Ernest?”

Ernest looked up to see the vice-principal standing on the other side of the hedge. The janitor sighed, preparing for another verbal beating. “Hi, vice-principal Luna. How was your day?”

“It could have gone better, but it wasn’t bad. I take it Mr. Doodle has informed you of our displeasure over the unwarranted seizure and modification of one golf cart?”

The troll fighter nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry ma’am. It won’t happen again, scout’s honor.”

Luna pushed a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear. “I also wanted to tell you that even though you are the most . . . unorthodox custodian my sister and I have ever hired, you are indeed an excellent counselor, as you had mentioned on your resume’.”

Ernest continued as if the vice-principal hadn’t spoken. “I mean that golf cart just looked so lonely and sad sitting there out in the middle of the soccer field. It was a mess, so I just thought I’d polish it up a bit, fill the tires, top off the gas tank, but I guess I got a little carried away. I . . . what now?”

“You are excellent with the students, most notably with Sunset Shimmer. Her demeanor has improved dramatically since your arrival. Right after the Fall Formal incident she was quiet and detached from the rest of the student body. She is not like that anymore. She is becoming more outgoing and engaging with her new friends. I attribute this change in attitude largely to you.”

The janitor smiled. “Yeah, Sunny’s a good kid. They all are.”

Luna nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.” The assistant principal looked at her watch and said, “Well, I best be off. But before I go, I’d like to apologize for being short with you and Sunset on your first day. That was unprofessional. I said I was sorry to Sunset a minute ago, now I’m saying it to you.”

Ernest waved off the apology. “That’s okay, ma’am. Being a vice-principal is like being a camp counselor. Both professions take nerves of steel, a heart of gold, a tongue of silver, and . . .” Ernest murmured the list again while counting on his fingers. Coming up short he continued, “And a fourth thing that’s apparently not as important as the other three.”

“You’re right. Having all of those things helps.” Luna thought for a moment before adding, “If you wish, perhaps we could talk about transferring you over to an assistant position under Counselor Matilda. That post hasn’t been filled for years. Maybe we can do lunch together at that coffee shop across the street?”

All of sudden Ernest’s hands became really sweaty, and his heart rate quickened. A little too quickly he replied, “Yeah, sure. I can’t wait. Uh, should I dress up? I think I can find something dressy to wear at the Salvation Army.”

The vice-principal laughed. “No need. This will be pretty informal, but I like your attitude.”

Seconds later, the honking of a car horn filled the air. Luna’s cheeks darkened. “That would be my sister. Well, Ernest, I’ll see you tonight.” And with that, the vice-principal took off at a brisk pace towards the parking lot. A dumb-struck Ernest dazedly waved back. “Yeah, I’ll see you later. We’ll do lunch.” Going back to his trimming Ernest thought about what just happened. Eventually he came to a conclusion. With a smug smile he said to himself, “Poor vice-principal Luna. The ole Worrell charm has struck again. Because of my pleasing aesthetical features I shall be taking the express escalator to the next floor of the Canterlot High School hierarchy. For I, Ernest P. Worrell, shall hold the dual ranks of assistant counselor and janitor.” Ernest shook his head in disbelief. “How did this place ever get along without me?”

A few hours later

Ernest was putting the finishing touches on the last shrub. He was singing one of his favorite love songs. “Our love festers like an open wound. Don’t call the doctor, I’ll be better soon.”

At that moment an elated Sunset Shimmer came around the bend. “Hey, Ernest, did vice-principal Lunaaaa--- oh my sweet Celestia.” Sunset just gaped at the shrub Ernest was trimming. It had been carved into the form of two people gazing into each other’s eyes while enjoying the same milkshake with two straws. The teenager could not believe the amount of detail the red neck had put into this masterpiece. And to her continued disbelief, he was still snipping away and adding touch-ups here and there.”

Ernest sighed wistfully, and continued singing. “Then you’ll infect me, knowing I’ll infect you, knowing that nothing can make us immune.”

Tearing her eyes off the bush-art, Sunset shook the janitor’s arm. “Ernest! Snap out of it!”

The troll fighter blinked at Sunset. He was about to say something when he looked down at what he was doing. “Woah!” exclaimed the custodian. Ernest looked at the shrub, the sheers, and then at his friend. “Cupid had his A game on today cause I didn’t see him or his arrow.”

Sunset laughed. “I was going to ask if vice-principal Luna had talked to you . . . but I think you’ve already answered my question.”

Ernest stared at the shrub in disbelief. One of the figures was a very muscular version of himself, and the other was of Luna in a very flattering dress. “Uh-huh,” Ernest replied slowly. “We had a nice talk.” The custodian let Sunset know what he and Luna had discussed.

The teenager beamed proudly. “Ernest, that’s great. She’s right. You are a good counselor. You gave me the best advice you could have given. I talked to the girls, and they agreed that I should stay in the play. But they also had their own suggestions.”

“What’d they say?”

“You’ll have to come to the play and find out. You are still coming, right?”

Ernest bit his lip. “Yeah, but now I gotta work. Mr. Doodle found the golf cart and wasn’t happy. He hasn’t yet come to appreciate creative thinking in the janitorial profession. Ya know what I mean? Plus I kind of should of asked first before performing major surgery on school property.”

Sunset frowned. “Can’t you trade with someone else?”

“Sorry, Sunny, I don’t think I can get out of this one. Not unless I can be at two places at once.” Ernest considered something for a moment before asking, “Hey, I don’t suppose you could . . .”

The teenager shook her head. “I’m not going to clone you, Ernest. That creates all kinds of problems.” Then an idea occurred to the former delinquent. “Hey, what about your monster cart? You said you know some things about robots. Can’t you program it to help you out?”

Ernest gave the girl a blank start. “Now why didn’t I think of that? I’m sorry, Sunny. It was wrong of me to ask you to break the laws of nature when I am more than capable of breaking them myself. Come on, we got a robot to test.” Ernest paused in mid-jog and looked at the bush one more time. “I’ll dispose of that later.” And with that, Ernest took off for the garage.

Before following her friend, Sunset took out her cell phone and snapped some photos of Ernest’s work of art.

A Tale of Two Willies

Sitting in the passenger seat of the heavily-modified golf vehicle, Sunset watched Ernest peck at the keyboard built into the cart. The teenager considered herself pretty tech savvy, but she did not comprehend anything the redneck was doing. It looked like the custodian was just punching in random numbers, letters, and symbols. The monitor was lit up, and on it was a picture of the “Have a Nice Day” smiley face. And maybe it was just Sunset’s imagination but it seemed that the more gibberish Ernest punched in, the broader the smile became. All the while Ernest muttered to himself while he typed.

“Alrighty. We’re almost there. Carry the ones and zeroes, divide by the hypotenuse of a hippopotamus, multiply by y, m, c, and a. Annnnd . . ,” Ernest paused and frowned. He looked over at Sunset and asked, “What’s your favorite color?”

Sunset was caught completely off guard. “Uh, orange. Why do you ask?”

Ernest nodded. “Orange is a good color. Willie will be warm, outgoing, and assertive. An orange personality will clash well with his green down-to-earth personality I picked out for him. Best of both worlds, ya know what I mean?”

The teenager frowned. “Ernest, are you sure it’s a good idea to give your robot a personality based on colors? Can’t you program Willie based on something more . . . concrete?”

The troll fighter gave Sunny a patronizing look. “Ah, Sunny, I was like you once; so full of questions, and wet behind the ears. But trust me. Old Ernest knows what he’s doing.”

After a few more keystrokes, Ernest cracked his knuckles. “There. Willie is ready to go.” Before hitting the Enter key, he paused. “We should probably get out of these seats.” After exiting the vehicle, Ernest leaned forward and pushed the desired key.

Ernest and Sunset stood back and waited expectantly. The lanky janitor rubbed his palms together with a big nervous grin on his face, while the teenager considered diving behind the work bench. But nothing happened. And as the seconds turned into minutes, nothing continued to happen.

“Ernest . . .”

“Any second now,” replied the custodian. But he did not sound confident.

As time marched on, Ernest thought about what he’d done wrong. Suddenly he clapped his hands together and shouted, “That’s it!”

The janitor’s outburst caused Sunset to jump out of her seat. “What? What’s it?”

“Willie needs an energy transfer to get goin.’ I can’t believe I forgot that. I can’t expect him to get started on his own. He’s just a baby after all.”

Sunset nodded. “That makes sense actually. So what do you need, a battery and jumper cables?

“Naw. Just hand me that hammer.”

Sunset did as she was told and handed Ernest a ball-peen hammer. “What are you going to do?”

Ernest opened the engine compartment. “Well, it’s a delicate process requiring the precision of a master surgeon combined with the knowhow of a journeyman mechanic. Observe.” Without further ado, Ernest licked his hammer as if it was a piece of thread about to be placed through an eye of a needle. He then began bashing the golf cart’s power supply as hard as he could. After the fifth blow, the robot began to hum with power.

Grinning like a mad man, Ernest shut the compartment and stood back with Sunset. The teenager could not believe what she was seeing. Before her eyes, the golf cart began to transform. When the metamorphoses was completed, the robot stood as tall as Ernest. The machine stumbled forward on legs that ended in wheels. After nearly falling, the robot righted itself by flailing its hydraulic arms. Then in a very human gesture, the automaton smacked the monitor which was serving as its head. It did this a couple more times until the white and grey interference had cleared. The yellow smiley face image was now fully visible on the monitor and was sporting a newsboy cap. “Jaysus, it’s aboot bloody time.”

Despite knowing where the booming electronic voice was coming from, Sunset yelped in surprise.

Turning to the source of the noise, the golem fixed the teenager with an apologetic look. The yellow smiley face grinned shyly and said, “Oh, pardon me, lassie. Me squawk box is on the fritz. Let’s see if we can do a wee something aboot that.” The small bulldozer blade embedded in Willie’s chest flipped down and produced the key board.

Sunset stared at the once quiet golf cart as it ran a self-diagnostic. In a subdued voice she asked, “Ernest, how in Celestia’s name did you do this without magic?”

As if in an interview, Ernest replied happily, “Well, Sunny, I owe all of my smarts, knowledge, wisdom, and intellect to my good friends Vern, the Tulip brothers, and my third grade teacher who told me I never knew when to quit. I would like to take this moment to not only thank them but all of the people who helped me along the way.” The redneck began to point to people only he could see. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, and thank you, Sunset Shimmer.”

“What? I had nothing to do with . . .”

“Ah, thar’s the little bugger. I’ll just crank this doon a few disables.” A few moments later Willie said in a much quieter voice. “Testing, testing. ‘Step up and play,’ each machine seemed to say as I walked roond and roond penny arcade. Right, that sounds much better.”

Sunset shook her head in continued disbelief. She had a million questions going through her head all at once. And out of all of them she chose to ask, “Why does he talk like that? Did you give him your Camelot voice?’”

Ernest beamed at the teenager. “I’m so glad you asked.” Grabbing a nearby chalkboard, the troll fighter began to draw erratically. “Here’s what’s goin’ on. The orange and green personality programs are trying to convert Willie’s posotronic brain accelerator, because once either side takes the accelerator, they’ll spread to the rest of his brain. The brain is the high ground if you’re a military buff. To stop the conflict from corrupting his nervous system, Willie activated his flux capacitor and chose aspects from both personality colors, and what you see is what he chose. Kind of like a psychological ceasefire, ya know what I mean? And yeah, I might have sneaked my Camelot voice into his programming.” Ernest was drawing so fast the chalk exploded in his hand.

The redneck winced. “Oh, I hate that sound. It kind of reminds me of this.” Ernest was about to draw his fingernails across the chalkboard when Sunset yelled, “Okay! Okay! I get it! Just please don’t do that.”

At this point Willie made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat. “Oi. According to me log files, ye want me to pretend to be you for tonight.”

Ernest nodded. “That’s right, Willie. Can you handle that?”

The robot scoffed, “Is the Pope Catholic?” Both Willie and Ernest laughed at the inside joke. “But we got a wee bit of a problem, boyo. Won’t Cranky be a mite suspicious if he sees a strong, silver, and handsome devil like meself pushing a mop aroond the academy? That might raise a few alarm bells, don’t ye think?”

Ernest rubbed his chin in thought. “What if we gave you a costume? Maybe we could disguise you as a remote controlled trash can.”

Willie was silent for a few seconds as he processed what he just heard. “If there wasn’t a lady present, I’d tell ye what I really think about that.”

Before Ernest could make another costume suggestion, Sunset spoke up. “Maybe I could help disguise you.”

“What’d you have in mind, lassie?”

Sunset grabbed a nearby ruler. “Just hold still. It’s been a while since I’ve done this, and it might feel a little weird.” Swirling the impromptu wand through the air, Sunset gathered magic to the end of the ruler until a turquoise ball of energy had formed. She then pointed the ruler at the robot, and the turquoise ball leapt forward. The change was immediate and nearly flawless.

Ernest inspected the teenager’s handy work and said, “Sunny, it’s like looking into a metal mirror.”

A few hours later

An old lady with a walker and neck-brace slowly made her way forward. She paused to pull her white shawl closer to her body. While she did so, she noticed the large filled-in hole behind the Canterlot High statue. She sighed to herself. “It’s a shame my niece doesn’t get paid for being a delinquent. She could then afford to move out of my house and pay back all that money she stole from me. Oh well, ‘the first one hundred years are the hardest,’ my dear mother used to say. I pray she’s right because the next hundred don’t look promising.”

The crone tottered onward. She spied a teenager dressed in a white wig and a grey-powdered school uniform standing by herself. Sunset Shimmer did not look happy waiting there on her own. Many of the other students were giving her hostile looks as they filed into the school. She looked at the faces that streamed by, searching for someone in particular.

“Hello, my dear. You look about as thrilled as I feel after a visit to the dialysis clinic.”

Sunset turned to see an old lady leaning heavily on a walker. She frowned, “Hello ma’am. Uh, can I help you?”

The elder covered her heart in surprise. “What’s this, a youth with manners? I thought your kind died out years ago. Where’s a reporter when you need one? This is the find of the decade. Yes, in fact you can help me. I’m looking for my niece. She’s tall, has red and yellow hair for reasons I know not why, dresses like a lady of the evening in the daytime, and has caused more damage to this school then a politician with a good idea. Her name is Sunset Shimmer. Have you seen her?”

Sunset stared at the woman for several seconds before it dawned on her. She smiled and said quietly, “Ernest, your disguise and acting is amazing. You had me fooled there for a minute. You remind me of my real aunt back in Equestria. She makes me feel uncomfortable, too.”

Ernest bowed his head. “Why thank you, my dear. Your specter costume and makeup is well-crafted also. It reminds me of my dead son, Hymie. That is the exact same shade of grey his face was before they nailed shut his coffin lid.”

“You can drop the a--,” the teenager caught herself. “Never mind. For tonight you’re my aunt. Mr. Cranky is here, and if he finds out you’re at the festival, you could get fired. Where’s Willie?”

“Ah yes, my build-a-son. Your cousin promised me that he would clean the academy from top to bottom and be as quiet as a church mouse taking a vow of silence. We’ll have to see about that. The last time I trusted a machine with this much responsibility was my toaster back in 1959. That trust was misplaced apparently. One minute I am having breakfast, and the next I’m watching everything I own go up in flames.”

Sunset straightened her ghost-gray school uniform. “I’m sure he’ll do a good job.” The troubled teen sighed and smiled at her friend. “Well, I’d better find the girls and get ready. I’m glad you’re here, Aunt . . . uh . . .”

“Auntie Nelda, my dear.” Dropping the act for a brief moment, Ernest placed a hand on the teen’s shoulder and whispered, “No matter what happens tonight, you’ll still have me in your corner. Go get em, Sunny. I’m proud of ya.”

Without warning, Sunset hugged the disguised redneck right there in front of everyone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Earlier

“Rabuf. Brother. I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing. Maybe the hardest thing you’re ever going to do in your life. But the future of our race is now in your hands. I need you to concentrate and pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.” The younger troll had listened and did not like what he was about to do. He sighed to himself, put his hands behind his back, and as nonchalantly as possible began whistling when he entered the rear of Mr. Rich’s booth.

The troll could hear his employer’s loud voice over the crowd of doll buyers. “Now don’t go away, folks. The figurine-maker will be back any minute now. Uh, can I interest any of you in zap apple jam, or some candy bits, or . . .?” The pony’s ears perked up when he heard the loud creak of the back door opening. “Just a second friends. I’ll be right back. I think the goose that lays the wooden dolls is back.” This announcement prompted a loud cheer from the festival goers.

Disappearing from behind the counter, Filthy confronted his M.I.A employee. “Where the hay have you been? I got customers lining up from Mane Street to Stable Blvd to buy our dolls and you disappear on me. I’ve fired ponies for taking half the break you took.”

Rabuf shrugged. “Sorry about that, boss-oposs. My bro caught up to me, and we talked about some pretty deep-heavy stuff. I mean this is the kind of stuff you’d think about when you’re bench pressing a tombstone with your name on it at the bottom of a well filled with honey.”

The pony blinked. “What in Celestia’s name are you babbling about? Just make some more bucking dolls. Okay?”

The troll nodded. “Yeah, we talked about that, too. How many dolls we have left?”

“None. We’ve sold out. We got three foal-sized dolls on layaway underneath the counter, but they’ve already been spoken for.”

Rabuf scratched at his belly and looked at the Colt. “Boss, you’re the best opossum I’ve ever known. I’ll name a troll after ya.”

Before the pony knew what was happening, he was a small doll in the troll’s hand. Pocketing his new acquisition, Rabuf pulled back the curtain that separated the two rooms. He was greeted by a cheering mass of ponies. The troll smiled back nervously as he addressed the crowd. “Hi, poynays. This is some night we’re having, huh?”

A unicorn shouldered her way through the crowd. “Please! Has anypony seen my son? I haven’t seen him since I bought this doll.”

Rabuf gulped. While maintaining eye contact with the crowd, he desperately searched underneath the counter for the three wooden foals. “Uh, have you checked the local opossum bone yard? He might be there.”

“I haven’t seen my grandparents either. But these dolls look just like them. What’s going on?” Another pony yelled.

The ponies that had been cheering moments before started to talk amongst themselves.

“Didn’t Lyra say something about this guy being a magic troll?” asked a pegasus.

“Yeah, I heard that too. She said he was turning ponies into dolls,” answered an earth pony.

At this point Rabuf’s hands pulled out a paper Nightmare Night candy bag that had the three small figures. And he was none too soon. The troll did not like the looks some of the equines in the crowd were giving him. He was about to try and calm the crowd down again when he saw a familiar-looking mint-green unicorn. The unicorn was sporting a twill cap and a denim vest. She was shouting at a large minotaur. “That’s him. That’s the troll who’s been turning everypony into dolls! Get him!”

Grasping the Filthy Rich figure in his pocket, Rotnart tossed the doll into the crowd. “Here. Someone can have my boss!”

The ponies that had been waiting in line to buy a doll for what seemed like ages, leapt at the troll’s charity. Dozens of ponies pounced on the filthy rich figurine, getting in the way of those that had growing suspicions about the doll maker. Lyra yelled in frustration when she finally reached Filthy’s stand. “He got away!”

“That was the dude?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Jeez, his costume looked just as real as that Ernest guy’s.”

Before Lyra could scream at the D.J. that both the human and the troll were real, the turn-table wizard had an idea. “Hey, Willey, can you throw me up in the air so I can get a picture of where this dude is heading?”

Iron Will looked at his employer strangely and shrugged. “If you want to be tossed, you’re the boss.” With one great heave, the white unicorn shot straight up into the air. Lyra was impressed. It took a long time for Vinyl to come back to earth, but when she did, she was ecstatic.

“Holy Celestia. That was a blast. You should have seen the faces of the weather pegasi when they saw me up there. I’d pay ya just to throw me up in the air.”

“Did you see him?” asked Lyra.

“Yeah . . . I think. I saw a guy on two legs heading towards the Everfree, and he was bookin’ it. There’s also something else goin’ down on the other side of town. I’m pretty sure I saw the princess, Twilight Sparkle, and Twilight’s buds having a throw-down with another two-legged dude. The ponies are kind of freaking out over there.”

Lyra’s heart sank. “If Twilight Sparkle and her friends are over there, they should have everything under control. We got to stop that troll from reaching his tree.”

“His what? Is he crazy or something?” asked the D.J.

“Come on. I’ll explain on the way.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Present

“Troll? Troll, can you hear me?” The feminine voice that asked that question sounded very tired and worried.

Slowly, the king regained wakefulness and immediately wished he was never born. It felt like his body had been put through the business end of a garbage truck. “Am I dead? If not, could you kill me, please?”

“I’m sure we can manage something,” replied an angry child’s voice.

“Calm down, Spike,” said the female in a whisper.

The troll would have smirked if he knew his face wouldn’t rip in two if he tried. At least his ears were still working. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t. Panicking, the troll yelled, “I can’t see! Oh cruel and merciless Trantor, I’m blind! Just end me now!”

“That salve is from the nectar of the bees. It heals and makes it so you cannot see. Give me a moment or two or three, and I will set your beady eyes free.”

He could feel something sticky being rubbed out of his eyes with a cloth. He blinked. The light was by no means bright, but it stung. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light. The troll looked from face to face. He was surrounded by an alicorn, a zebra, and a little dragon holding a pretty unicorn doll. “Well, let’s cut to the chase. What do you want?”

“Please.”

Rotnart looked at the haggard alicorn.

“Change my friends and all those you’ve turned into dolls back to the way they were.”

The troll frowned and said mockingly, “Ahhh, that’s so sad. If I actually gave a $&it, I’d probably try and do something. But, I don’t, so you’re screwed.”

“Really? In that case, I say we grab a funnel and see how much milk you can drink before you explode,” suggested the dragon.

When this was mentioned, the troll took a good look at what was keeping him from leaving. Instead of ropes and chains, he saw a forest of needles stuck in what seemed like every inch of his salve covered body.

“Hold on, Spike. I have a better idea.” Without another word, the princess gathered magic to the end of her horn. Moments later, she let loose the gathered energy in the form of a light-purple mist that surrounded the room.

“What was that?” asked the dragon.

The pony turned to her friend and winked. She faced the troll and asked, “What’s your name?”

“I am Rotnart. I am the King of the future troll nation and spawn of Trantor Double-Nose.” When he was done speaking the troll gaped at the pony. He could not believe he had just said all that.

“Trantor?” Twilight frowned, but then her eyes lit up upon remembering where she heard that name. “You’re the son of the troll from Ernest’s world, aren’t you?”

The pin-cushioned troll didn’t answer.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the zebra mixing up a concoction. Then to the troll’s horror, the brew-mistress poured an entire carton of milk into her caldron. She tasted it and smiled. “Ah, is our guest taking a break? Well, I guess it’s time for a milkshake.” Using a dipper she scooped up some of the white substance into a glass and made her way to the bound troll.

Despite not being able to move, Rotnart felt cold sweat roll down his face and back. It was easier to be brave when you knew you had a ghost-alicorn funneling you dark magic to make ya milk proof. Unfortunately, the Pony of Shadows was no longer providing that kind of support. Before the zebra could pour any of the liquid into his mouth, he screamed. “Okay! Okay damn it! I’ll play ball! Yes, I’m from that cursed Worrell’s world! Just don’t make me drink that!”

When she heard this, Zecora nearly dropped the vial, causing the troll to cry out in terror. Recovering, the brew-mistress looked at Twilight gravely. “We must contact the human Ernest, before our world is cast into the furnace.”

The troll laughed. “Ernest P. Worrell is dead, you stupid cow. He was eaten by a bear almost a week ago.”

Ignoring Rotnart, Twilight looked at Zecora’s terrified face. What little control and calm the alicorn possessed was being shaken. She had never seen her cool and collected friend this worked up before. “Why, what’s wrong? Ernest is back home in Canterlot High.”

Zecora swallowed and drew a calming breath. “Years before the human was here, I received a vision most clear. The spirits of zebras past came to me during a fast. They said three would come from the land of misery, but now I know what they really said was Missouri. They will come through a magic door breaching the dimensional floor. One will walk on four legs and the other two, and the last is from the crystal north and evil through and through. A tree he will take and make his throne, and once he does, he will no longer be alone. There is only one that can stop the fallen one, from the town of Briars he will come.”

Twilight’s mouth went dry as she quickly put two and two together. “Sombra’s last surviving troll. He’s back . . . or at least his descendant is. And Ernest is the only one that can stop him.” The pony nodded. “He’s done it before, he can do it again.”

Spike gulped and clung to the rarity doll. “But, we’ve got nothing to worry about now, right? I mean we got him. There isn’t another troll out there, is there?”

Twilight looked at her prisoner. “Well? Are you the last troll? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

Rotnart glanced up at the zebra. She was still clutching her homemade treat above his head. “Yeah, I have one brother,” growled the troll.

The alicorn bit her lip and fought down a fresh wave of panic. “How many dolls does he have?”

“I don’t know.”

Zecora menacingly lowered her hooves and started to tip the cup.

“Trantor, damn it! I don’t know! I swear! He was the one selling the dolls back to you ponies. I don’t know how many he has! He’s #$&*ing nuts! For all I know he could be having a tea party with the Pony of Shadows in the Ev--"

“Say another word and you’re dead!” A menacing voice bellowed inside the troll’s head. Rotnart closed his mouth so fast that he could feel his teeth rattle.

The zebra frowned. “It would be a shame if this glass were to spill, and spread all over your nasty grill.” Zecora tipped the glass until the liquid was on the verge of streaming from the container, and then she tipped it a little more until a single drop had fallen.

Time seemed to slow down. The troll could feel the words slipping from his mouth almost on their own accord. He didn’t know if it was the spell pulling the syllables from his throat or the threat of impending death from the milk. But whatever the reason, he could not take the words back after he spoke them. “Everfree Forest!”

The drop landed on Rotnart’s face. The troll screamed in terror for several seconds, but nothing happened. He would have breathed a sigh of relief until he heard the Pony of Shadows say, “I warned you.”

To Twilight and her friends, it was like someone had thrown a switch on the troll. One moment he was awake and screaming his lungs out, the next he was staring up at the ceiling with his eyes and mouth wide open, as stiff as a board.

The alicorn’s eyes widened. “Zecora, you didn’t . . .”

“Twilight you have my word tried and true that I did not put milk in this brew. What happened now I don’t understand, but it was not part of the plan. What I poured from the carton was not milk at all, but something I whipped together last fall.”

Spike waved a clawed hand in front of the troll’s face. “Is he dead?”

Using her magic, the alicorn did her best to diagnose the catatonic troll. “I have no idea. I’m not familiar with troll anatomy. He doesn’t have a heartbeat . . . but I think he’s still alive. For a moment I sensed a dark presence from within him, and then it was gone.”

“Rotnart spoke of the Pony of Shadows; could he have ventured into her dark meadows?” Zecrora wondered out loud.

Twilight shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t know. What we do know is there is one more troll still out there. And if he’s turned five foals into dolls and has corrupted a tree, we are in deep trouble.”

“So what do we do?” asked Spike.

“We have to find this troll. Spike, round up every pegasai you can and have them fly over the Everfree Forest. Get the lunar guards to help you. We need to tell them to look for a troll that looks like him,” Twilight said pointing to Rotnart. “And tell them to check to see if any of the trees are sprouting pods . . . or bustle sprouts as Ernest would call them.”

The little dragon nodded hesitantly. “Okay, but that’s a tall order. The Everfree Forest is huge. And they’ll be flying in the dark.”

“I know Spike, but it has to be done. Tell the earth ponies and unicorns to help on the ground, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky, and they’ll stumble upon the troll’s hideout. Tell everypony to travel in groups and to be careful. These trolls are dangerous.”

“Okay. Should I send a letter to the Crystal Empire and tell them what’s going on so they can get Ernest out of Canterlot High?”

Before Twilight could agree, Zecora cleared her throat. “There is no need for that my dragon friend, because Ernest will be here by hour’s end.”

Twilight frowned. “How? He could be anywhere over there.”

Zecora took a breath. “Let me worry about that detail, but I will need your help, or this plan will fail.”

The alicorn nodded. “What can I do?”

The zebra’s voice started to quake. “From you I will need your magic and a mirror to see, you will be my anchor tethered to me.”

Sensing the tremors in her friend’s voice, Spike asked, “What’s wrong, Zecora?”

Smiling nervously she replied, “Nothing is wrong particularly, but what I’m about to do is scary to me.”

Back at Canterlot High

“Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling, from glen to glen, and down the mountain side.” Mop in hand Willie sang one of his favorite songs. He wasn’t afraid of someone coming to where he was working. Everyone was on the other end of the school having a good time. It was just him, his mop, and his bucket. Sure he was a robot and could get his work done in a fraction of the time it would take his creator, but he liked how his voice resonated down the halls.

“The Summer’s gone, and all the flowers are dying ‘tis you, ‘tis you must go and I must bide.” The space he was currently cleaning was the music room. While singing, he pushed his mop around the desks and chairs until something tripped his ocular sensors. He looked over at the mirror that had been epoxyied on the wall right next to the large dry erase board. Willie could have sworn he’d saw a purplish light emanating from the looking glass. Seeing nothing, he kept on mopping.

“But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow or when all the valley’s hushed and white with sn--.” There it was again. Except this time the light was brighter, and a large crack had formed in the mirror’s surface. The robot raised an eyebrow that didn’t really exist on his face. This was the first time he was seeing himself in the form of his creator. He looked just like his father except dipped in iron grey paint. He had to admit, the lass with the red hair had done wonders with her magic. He admired himself for a few more moments before turning his attention back to the fissure in the mirror. Willie frowned. His heat indicators on his hydraulic arms registered a spike in temperature that was quickly fading. The robot processed this for a minute before withdrawing his hands. He cleared his throat and increased the volume.

“ ’Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow!” The result was immediate and impressive. The mirror imploded to reveal a vortex of swirling violet energy. Overwhelmed by what he was seeing, the robot kept singing.

“Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so!” It was at this point the surprised robot saw a pair of black and white fured hooves reach forth from the mirror and pull him into the unknown.

The Eternal Student

Lyra tried to slow her breathing. She could feel cold sweat running down her denim-covered back. She, Vinyl Scratch, and Iron Will were surrounded by nothing but dark trees and darker bushes. Her heart skipped a beat when an owl screeched a warning and flew off his high, oaken branch. The unicorn let out her breath. Chasing down a troll at night in the Everfree Forest was probably not the smartest thing she and her friends could be doing.

The D.J. asked, “So let me get this straight. This dude that we’re chasing has a tree that he’s turned evil and is powered by little kids he turned into dolls?”

“Yes . . . kind of,” answered Lyra. “The corrupted tree needs the wooden dolls to create pods. When these pods hit the ground, they turn into trolls.” Explaining this helped calm the mare. “He needs just five dolls to create his army. During the Crystal Heart Wars, Sombra corrupted the forests for miles around the Crystal Empire. He kidnapped thousands of foals from the towns surrounding the Empire to create his army. He . . .”

“When somepony corrupts, I erupt!” Iron Will declared, holding up his full gallon milk jug. “Only a coward hides from his just deserts. But to be fair, if milk was my weakness, I’d be hiding too.”

Lyra gave the minotaur an annoyed look. “Don’t underestimate this troll. We’ve got to find this creature and fast, or the milk might not be enough to stop it.”

“Hello, is someopos--- er somepony there?”

The group froze. The voice sounded very close.

“Octavia? Tavi, is that you? What are you doing out here?” asked the D.J.

“I . . .,” Octavia’s strained voice paused. “I was looking for you. I saw you run into the forest after that handsomely brave troll, and I lost my way.”

Lyra’s eyes narrowed. Something wasn’t right.

“It’s okay, Tavi. We’re here now,” declared Vinyl.

“I think I twisted my paw-hoof thing. Can you come here and help me back to town?”

“I’m coming.” Before the D.J. could take a step to aid her friend, Lyra blocked her path. “Vinyl, I don’t think that’s Octavia.”

The white unicorn took off her glasses and glared at the denim-covered pony. “What are you talking about? My best friend is hurt. Get out of my way.”

“Listen to me!” shouted Lyra. “The troll we’re chasing is a master of manipulation. This thing can throw its voice and change it to sound like one of his victims. Isn’t it a little weird that Octavia is talking strangely right now? This feels like a trap.”

Slowly, Iron Will unscrewed the plastic lid on his gallon of milk. “But if somepony is in trouble, we can’t stay in our bubble.”

Doubt flickered in the D.J.’s desperate eyes. She looked at Lyra and then to the area behind the mint-colored unicorn where her friend’s voice had come from. Vinyl had just opened her mouth to speak when a disturbing voice said, “Well hello, opossum. Want to see a magic trick?”

“Ye--- I mean No! Nooooo!” screamed Octavia.

Lyra couldn’t help it. She whirled around at hearing the troll’s voice. This was all the opening the D.J. needed as she bolted around the other unicorn, Iron Will hot on her hooves.

“Wait! Come back!” yelled Lyra. She galloped after her friends, but to her surprise, her legs didn’t work. She looked down at them, and to her horror, she found that they were being turned to wood. She gathered air into her lungs to scream a warning but a huge hand covered her muzzle. The last thing the pony heard was the troll whispering in her ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay. The magic trick isn’t anything special. You’ve seen it before. You’re not missing a thing.”

The pony struggled for only a few seconds before she was turned into a wooden miniature.

Rabuf pocketed his latest acquisition and silently made his way towards his other pursuers. He knelt down behind a rotten stump and listened.

“Tavi? Octavia, where are you!?” yelled the white possum. “Willy, do you see her?”

The troll watched the huge jackalope known as Willy shake its head. It pushed through several bushes and looked behind all the trees the white opossum illuminated. Willy snarled in frustration until he saw the small wooden doll Rabuf had left behind a tiny sapling. “Oh no,” the jackalope said quietly.

“What? Did you find her?” asked the opossum.

Willy swallowed. “Yeah, I found her.”

The troll grinned to himself. He must have done a really good job with that particular specimen. The white opossum was weeping in awe of his craftsmanship while the jackalope couldn’t take his eyes off it. Rabuf would have gone up and autographed the figurine for his fans, but Rotnart told him to make for the special tree and to turn anypony that followed too closely into dolls. The troll scratched his head at this conundrum. The things that were following him were now in front of him. “So are they still chasing me, or am I now chasing them?” Rabuf asked himself out loud.

Unaware of what he was doing, Rabuf had stood up to ponder this confusing question. He puzzled over this perplexing situation until something large and white flew by his nose, mere centimeters from his face.

“Argh, Celestia, damn it, Iron Will. How did you miss? He’s literally only like twenty feet away.”

The troll blinked and looked over at the two natives. The jackalope’s features trembled with anger and frustration. “If this were a game, I will admit it would be less of a shame.”

Rabuf shook his head. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. That was a pretty good throw for a jackalope of your size. By the way, who were you throwing the milk at?”

The veins in the minotaur’s head began to throb. “How dare you mock you me. I’m going to stomp you so far into the ground you’ll end up in Yakyakistan.”

“Where’s Lyra, creep?” asked Vinyl Scratch.

From the troll’s pocket, Rabuf produced the Lyra doll. He looked carefully at the small statue and said, “Yeah, I think she’s too old for the lucky special tree-thing. I’ll make a deal with you two. You stop following me and you can have this pristine figurine for free. I’ll even sign this master piece. What do ya say?”

Vinyl blinked, ‘”Lucky, special, tree?’ Are you talking about the Tree of Harmony?”

Troll shrugged, “Yeah, it’s that big, shiny, tall, bright, wood-thing I’m supposed to do something with, planted in a hole infront of this other castley thingy. Hey, have you guys heard of the opossum of shad---“

Iron Will’s nostrils flared. He let out a wordless cry as he charged the troll.

“Willy, Stop! We gotta get help!” Vinyl cried, but the minotaur ignored her.

Rabuf looked at the jackalope curiously but did not move an inch from where he was standing. Iron Will aimed a blow at the troll’s chest with one massive fist. Casually, the troll raised his hand and caught the punch.

Iron Will was stunned as his momentum was completely halted with so little effort. The minotaur had time to blink before he was turned to wood. The statue fell to the forest floor with a soft thud when it hit the cold grass.

Rabuf looked at the last opossum. The thing’s horn was glowing bright blue as it gathered magic for an attack. But despite this power she was collecting, she looked very unsure and very scared.

Casually the troll reached down and picked up the Willey doll. He slowly walked up to the trembling opossum. “What were we talking about? Eh, must not have been important. Are you still going to follow me? We can still make that deal.”

The unicorn waited until he was but a couple of feet away from her before she blasted him in the face. Vinyl turned and fled at a full gallop away from the troll. She had to get away. Get away and tell Twilight Sparkle about the Tree of Harmony.

She ran and ran for what seemed like hours until she took cover behind a rosebush to catch her breath. Vinyl was about to take off again when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “You forgot your autographed doll.”

The pony’s scream was cut short when her vocal chords turned to lumber.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunset Shimmer took a deep breath and readied herself. She counted down in her head “three, two, one.” She stepped out onto the stage, the spotlight picking her out instantly. As quietly as a mouse she walked over to a nearby desk and sat. She looked down to find a notebook along with a pencil waiting to be used. After a few moments of scribbling, she heard one of her fellow actors come on stage.

“I’ll be right with you guys. I left my notes at my desk.”

Sunset didn’t stop writing when Rainbow Dash announced her presence.

“Oh, My, Gosh. You’re here,” R.D. said slowly. The teenager sat down next to the ghost and watched her write.

Sunset had to give Rainbow Dash credit. Her performance had improved dramatically. The athlete had to be careful not to look at Sunset’s face and just focus on the pencil. This was a play after all and the students could not see the eternal student, just the things the ghost interacted with.

Rainbow leaned over and looked at what the ghost was writing. “True happiness does not come from a trophy or a grade, it doesn’t come from the place where memories fade. It comes from your heart where real choices are made. Treasure your loved ones for forever and a day, and don’t do as I have or forever you will pay.”

From the corner of her eye, Sunset could see her friend decked out in a school uniform complete with a white and blue skirt and varsity soccer team captain’s jacket. They had deviated so far from the original play at this point that she was sure the drama teacher would have words with them all. The Eternal Student was not a happy play. The ghost was a spirit that forever haunted the school, scaring the students back on the straight and narrow path. But in this rendition of the play, she and her friends had decided the ghost would use a gentler touch.

“Uh, Capt? What’s taking so long?” asked Apple Jack. The girl poked her head onto the set and slowly made her way onto the stage.

Sunset stopped writing.

Rainbow looked up at her best goal keeper with a shocked expression. She was about to tell her that she had seen the ghost but thought better of it. As the team captain, she had an image to protect.

“I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should let Shutterfly off with just a warning for missing those practices.”

A.J. frowned. “Why? Everyone on our team needs to pull their weight. If she can’t make it to our practices, then why is she even on the bench? I think you had it right the first time. The team will be a lot better off without her.

R.D. looked down at what the ghost had written and sighed. “That’s what I thought at first. But it’s not her fault that her grandma is sick.”

Apple Jack folded her arms over her chest. “Tough, that’s her problem. What’s gotten into you, Capt? You didn’t hesitate in getting rid of Gooseberry Pie and Sparity when they couldn’t perform. We are the best of the best, and we didn’t get here by pussy footing around. We got a game one week from now. What are you going to do if Shutterfly doesn’t show up to that?”

Rainbow Dash didn’t speak at first. She was silent until the Eternal Student placed a ghostly hand on the gang leader’s shoulder. The team leader sighed. “I’ve been too hard on the team lately. I shouldn’t have cut Gooseberry when she got food poisoning or Sparity when she was out for two weeks getting her wisdom teeth removed.” R.D. looked Applejack in the eye and said, “And I’ve been too hard on you. You’re my best friend, and I’ve done nothing but push you and the rest of the team harder and harder. And for what? A stupid trophy? A useless title? Our friendship and lives are in tatters, our grades are slipping, we’re not getting near enough sleep, and our parents do nothing but worry about us. Maybe that’s what put Shutterfly’s Grandma in the hospital.”

A.J. blinked. She had not been expecting this from her team captain. She thought about what R.D. had said for a moment before saying, “Mom and Dad have been a mite fussy about my well being for a while now.” She then yawned. “Maybe we have been taking ourselves a bit too seriously lately.”

The captain nodded. “Mine too. If we don’t change, then there won’t be a varsity soccer team in a couple of months.” Rainbow gathered up her notebook and pencil and headed for the door. “Tell coach that I’m cancelling after-school practice for today.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m putting the band back together, starting with Pinkie Pie and Rarity. And then I’m going to the hospital. Shutterfly could use a friend about now.”

Apple Jack didn’t hesitate. “Hold on a sec. I’m coming with ya.”

After the goalie had followed R.D off stage, Sunset Shimmer looked at the audience and winked.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Auntie Nelda slowly rose from her seat. Her soft applause was drowned out by the loud clapping of the rest of the audience as the curtain lowered for intermission. “Bravo, bravo, well done.” The old woman smiled at Sunset Shimmer and gave her the thumbs up sign. The teenager picked out the crone in the crowd and returned the smile.

The old woman felt a firm hand tap her on the shoulder. She looked to her side to see Granny Smith applauding along with her. “Which one is yours?” the lunch lady asked, nodding towards the stage.

Ernest blinked in confusion but rallied quickly. “The thespian playing the Eternal Student is my niece. I must say theatre has changed since my day. We didn’t have these fancy cosmetics to make us look dead. If we needed a corpse, we borrowed one from the local funeral home. The rent was reasonable back then, a quarter for every half hour. I don’t know what the rate is now, probably at least twice that.”

Granny Smith stared at the lady for several moments with her mouth open, and then she began to laugh and laugh hard. “Oh my, for a while there I thought you were serious. The name’s Granny Smith.” The elder paused. “Have we met before? I feel like I know you from somewhere.”

Aunty Nelda smiled. “Would you believe me if I said we have met before in the elevator of a hospital? I had just come out of surgery and you had just escaped from your room.

Granny blinked. “Is that right? That does sound like me. Well, it’s good to me you again, . . . uh . . . .”

“Auntie Nelda, my dear Granny. Now which one of those young minds full of mush up there do you claim as your own?”

“The one in the Stetson; her name is Apple Jack. She’s a mite stubborn at times, but I can’t ask for a sweeter apple. Speaking of which, you must be proud of Sunset. I haven’t seen anyone change so much in so little time. Hanging around with my granddaughter and her friends sure helped. But if you ask me, I think it has a lot to do with our new custodian. Those two have been as thick as thieves when he first showed up.”

“A janitor?” The disguised Ernest leaned in close and muttered quietly, “A plunger jokey has been fraternizing with my niece on a daily basis? This is most irregular.”

“I felt the same way when he first showed up. But the man kind of grows on ya, and he’s really good with the kids. Rumor has it he’ll be taking the assistant counselor’s position here in a spell.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” said a masculine voice.

Ernest nearly jumped out of his disguise. Standing right next to his chair was Cranky Doodle.

Covering her thundering heart Auntie Nelda declared, “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to sneak up on your elders when they are having a private conversation?”

Cranky’s cheeks reddened. He straightened his suit and mumbled, “My apologies, ma’am.”

“That’s quite all right, young man. And who might you be?”

“My name is Cranky Doodle, chief plunger jokey here at Canterlot High.”

Auntie Nelda let out a dry cackle and said to Granny Smith, “And they say men aren’t good listeners.” She turned back to the uncomfortable custodian and offered her hand to be kissed. “My name is Auntie Nelda, dear. But I’m assuming you already know that since you have such lovely and functional ears.”

Cranky eyed the outstretched hand with reservation. He was also very much aware that he was being watched on all sides by students, parents, and faculty. Fighting back a cringe, the janitor lightly kissed the hand of the disguised Ernest P. Worrell.

Granny Smith grinned like a jack-o-lantern, but held her tongue.

Auntie Nelda gestured to the empty seat by her side. “Sit down, lad. Tell me more about this Ernest fellow. What kind of influence is he having on my niece?”

The man’s hand clenched at the mention of his subordinate’s name. “I’ll try and put this as nicely as I can. The man is an incompetent buffoon and probably insane. I’ve caught him talking to himself in different voices every day. It’s like he’s twelve different people in one body. On top of that, he is a danger to himself. A couple of days ago I sent him out to mow the front lawn. He comes back an hour later with his clothes shredded but not a scratch on him. Somehow he managed to run himself over with a little push-mower. I found chunks of his clothes clogging the mower blades. If it were up to me, the man would have been fired on day one.”

“Now hold on just a minute,” Granny Smith piped up. “Ernest might be stranger then wheels on a pogo stick, but he’s got a heart of gold and a work ethic second to none. When Golden Delicious broke her hip a few days ago, it was Ernest who took over for her when no one else volunteered. If it hadn’t been for him, everybody would have been on half food rations that day, because I don’t get paid enough to pull double duty on lunch.” The elder eyed the chief janitor. “You’re not going to run this boy off like you did the others, Cranky. I expect good things from Ernest P. Worrell.”

Ernest tried to keep his face neutral during this back and forth, but his chest swelled with pride from what Granny had said. “Hmmm, it sounds like this Ernest fellow isn’t all bad. I’d like to meet this unorthodox specimen someday.”

Cranky snorted. “That can be arranged. He’s pulling a double graveyard shift tonight. You want me to get him?”

“No, thank you. I like a man who works while everyone else is having fun. It’s people like him that keep this globe we are saddled to spinning.”

“Preach it, sister,” agreed Granny.

The janitor rolled his eyes and was about to comment, but he paused. “Do you ladies hear that?”

“Here what, dear?” asked Aunty Nelda.

The three listened for a moment. Above the loud din of the audience a feminine voice was frantically yelling, “Ernest! Ernest! Excuse me, sir. Have you’ve seen Ernest P. Worrell?”

“That,” said the custodian, nodding in the direction the woman was yelling.

Auntie Nelda began to sweat in spite of the air conditioning. “Hmmm, I don’t hear anything. You must be mistaken.”

“No, I hear it too,” said Granny.

A masculine voice joined the woman’s. “Ernest! Ernest where are you? We got a big troll problem!”

The disguised redneck heard that loud and clear. “Troll problem?” he said to himself.

Cranky stood up from his folding chair. He frowned. “Huh, this is strange. What’s Dean Cadence doing here? Did Principal Celestia invite her?”

Granny slowly got up from her seat too. “Danged if I know. Are you sure that golf cart Ernest found wasn’t from Crystal Prep? That’s the only thing I can think of.”

The janitor shrugged. “Well, either way, I better go find him before the higher-ups have a conniption.”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. He’s closer than you think,” said Auntie Nelda.

Cranky frowned. “How do you know, ma’am? You don’t know him.”

Auntie Nelda smiled as she used her walker for support to stand up. “Unfortunately, I know him better than most.”

It took Ernest less than twenty seconds to tear off his Auntie Nelda disguise and dawn his signature cap. All the while Cranky, Granny Smith, and anyone who was looking in his direction gaped as the old woman transformed into a tall, lanky man.

The chief custodian was the first to recover. No one likes being taken for an idiot, but Ernest in his disguise had fooled him utterly and on top of that, he had kissed his hand. When that particular revelation sank in, Cranky screamed at the top of his lungs, “Worrell, you’re fired!”

Ernest flinched, “But boss, someone needs help, and I . . .”

Cranky cut him off still shouting at full volume. “I don’t want to hear it! You’re fired, you’re done! Pack your stuff and get out now before I . . .”

“Hey!”

All eyes turned back to the stage. Sunset Shimmer stood there glaring at Cranky, her blazing red and yellow hair clashing with her ghostly costume. In her hands she gripped a wet towel that she had been using to wipe off her makeup. “If you’re going to punish someone, punish me. I asked Ernest to be here.” The teenager jumped down from the stage and purposefully walked over to stand by Ernest. All the while, the two voices continued to call for Ernest’s help.

Cranky shook his head. “I don’t care. I told him to clean the school, and he’s here instead disguised as an old hag. This is unacceptable. If he can’t follow orders, he has no place here.”

“Are you serious?” shouted Sunset. “I’ve been a terrible bully for years. I’ve nearly destroyed this school, and on top of all that, I’ve turned everyone into zombies. But in spite of all of that, for some reason this school has kept me around and given me a second chance. Sunset began to tremble with rage, not at Cranky but at herself. “This is my fault, and I am sorry. But I wanted him to be here to cheer me on because he’s one of my best friends. It was Ernest P. Worrell who picked me up when I was down and showed me how to be a better person. Ernest is the sweetest, kindest person to ever walk the halls of Canterlot High, and all I am asking is for you to let us have this one night and then I’ll take whatever penalty you dish out.”

The janitor didn’t hesitate. “My decision is final, but don’t worry, Shimmer. You’ll still get your punishment.”

In response, Sunset threw down the wet cloth in front of the custodian’s feet. “Let me save you the trouble. I’m done with this school. If there’s no room for Ernest, then there’s no room for me. Come on Ernest, someone needs our help, and by Celestia, tonight we’re going to help them.”

“But Sunny, you can’t . . .” Ernest started to say but Sunset was already moving. The crowd of students parted before her. The redneck followed in her wake through the awe-struck crowd. All the while he heard nothing but whispered compliments about Sunset and how she had stood up to Cranky to defend the weird, cross-dressing janitor.

By the time Ernest caught up to Sunset, they were both standing before two seated strangers that were flanked by Principal Celestia and Vice-Principal Luna. The seated woman noticed Ernest and tried to stand up. “Ernest, thank goodness you’re still here. We need you back in Equestria.”

The redneck blinked. “I’m sorry, ma’am, do I know you? I’m usually good with faces, but I’m kind of having a bad day.”

“Ernest, this is Dean Cadence with her escort, Shining Armor. They are both from the Crystal Prep School.”

The custodian frowned in thought. “Hmmm, I did know a Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor from Camelot. They were some good people.”

Sunset Shimmer looked closely at the two seated humans. Her eyes widened as she declared, “They’re from the other side of the portal. This is Princess Cadence and Prince Shining Armor.”

Ernest gave Sunset a strange look. “Now Sunny, I know we’ve both had a long night and I’m tired too, but I’m pretty sure that if we offered these two lovely people some hay, they’d probably wouldn’t eat it. Know what I mean?”

Slowly, with Vice-Pricipal Luna’s help Cadence stood on her shaking feet. “Blacksmith, Blacksmith, near the gorge, make me a horseshoe with your forge. Stretch it, beat it, form it in a U. And leave it on a fence post as a clue.”

The redneck’s jaw dropped.

Goo Puddles Don't Lie

Ernest shook his head in disbelief. “Naw, that can’t be right. I squirted the last troll when I came through that portal thing after I hit it with my truck. Ask Rimshot. He saw the whole thing. That troll and I were having a duel, and we shot at the same time, and . . . and.” The redneck fought for the right words. “I saw him turn to goo with my own eyes.”

“Ernest,” Princess Cadence said gently, “I believe you, but Spike’s letter was adamant. We need to get back to Ponyville, now. Twilight has one troll in custody, but there is still another loose turning ponies into dolls.”

“But,” the sanitation started to say, pausing and letting out a defeated breath, “this can’t be happening. I got them all. Goo puddles don’t lie.”

“We’re not blaming you, Ernest,” Shining Armor added. “But we need to go, and we can’t do this without you. You’re the only troll fighter we got.”

Ernest didn’t reply for a few seconds. He fidgeted with his hands and murmured, “I’m not sure I’m your guy. There’s gotta be someone else. I can’t do anything right. This is all my fault. All I wanted to do was build a tree-fort with my friends back home. I didn’t mean to wake up great-grandpappy’s troll. I didn’t mean for my buddies to get turned to dolls. And I sure as heck didn’t mean to bring this mess to Camelot. I’m the worst troll fighter in the history of troll fighting.”

The redneck turned from the stares of the two seated humanized ponies and tried to hold back the tears forming in his eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Ernest, look at me.”

The lanky human obeyed and stared into the eyes of Sunset Shimmer.

“We all make mistakes. I mean I was trying to take over this school just before you came along. That’s on me. But this,” she gestured towards Shining Armor and Princess Cadence, “this isn’t your fault. You weren’t the one who brought those trolls to Equestria, and besides according to what you told me, it was foretold that you would awaken that monster. There is nopony living that can fight destiny. Not you, or I, not even Twilight Sparkle or Princess Celestia. And it was you who defeated Trantor and his children.”

Worrell shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I had help. I also had a large stash of miak and troll begone that I barely got to use, and . . .”

Sunset cut him off. “The point is, Ernest, you stepped up to the plate and won when everyone else had counted you out. You didn’t run away or hide. You saved your home. Ernest, I think you’re the bravest human I’ve ever met.”

The troll fighter blinked. “I am?”

Sunset squeezed the janitor’s shoulder. “Yes. Without a doubt, and now we need the Great Redneck Hope to save Equestria. Can we count on you?”

Ernest hesitated but only for a moment. A fire had been reignited in his heart that had nearly been crushed by despair. Determination creased his face and straightened his back. He rolled up his sleeves and declared to the world, “Troll Fighter One, never backs down from a fight. You can count on me, Sunny. Let’s get back to Ponyville and kick some troll back-side.”

The former delinquent smiled broadly at her friend. “Now you’re talking.” She held up her fist for a fist-bump.

In response to this, Ernest flinched and took a step back.

“Oh sorry, uh . . . high five?”

After slapping Shimmer’s hand with his own, Ernest’s head whirred with ideas and possibilities on how to best combat the new troll threat. “Did Spike say anything about a tree growing brusslesprouts in his letter?”

Cadence blinked in confusion. “He said that one of the trolls might have corrupted a tree in the Everfree Forest. But nopony knows where it is.”

“He also said that the trolls might have enough dolls to raise an army.” The Captain of the Royal Guard shifted uncomfortably in his human street clothes. “If these are decadents from Sombra’s champion, then they could already be spawning warriors.”

Ernest stroked his chin nervously. “Then we gotta move fast.” The redneck turned to Sunset. “Sunny, I need you to get Rimshot. He has as much troll fighting experience as I do. We also gotta tell Willy. And . . .”

“He’s already there,” declared the princess. “Zecora tried to bring you to Ponyville through a mirror, but instead she pulled your robot through.”

The fired janitor’s eyes widened. “Wow, Dr. Suess can use Alice in Wonderland magic? Good thing I didn’t stay on her bad side for very long.” Ernest shook his head rid himself of all distractions. “Hey, Sunny, after you find Rimshot, round up some of your friends, and grab as much milk as you can. The cow juice is like super kryptonite to these things. Trust me on this.”

The teenager nodded and swung open the door to the classroom they had borrowed for this meeting. This elicited a yelp of surprise from the two principals standing on the other side who had been straining to listen to the conversation inside. “Excuse me Principal Celestia and Vice-principal Luna.”

“Sunset, what’s going on?” asked the older sister.

“Can’t talk now, ma’am, not a lot of time.” And with that, the young lady disappeared down the school halls.

Luna frowned after the teenager and eyed Ernest who was trying to help Shining Armor to his unfamiliar feet. “I could use a little help here, ma’ams. I need to get these two back to the statue out front.”

“I’m fine, Ernest. I can walk on my own.” The proud guard captain tried to take a step forward and would have collapsed if Worrell had not have been nearby.

Without another word, Principal Celestia assisted Cadence out of her desk while Luna took Shining Armor’s other arm and helped Ernest guide the changed pony out of the room.

“I’m assuming these two are from the world beyond the statue?” asked Luna.

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Ernest. “It’s great over there. They got flying horses that control the weather. Horses with bones sticking out of their heads that can move stuff with their minds, and . . .”

“I know, Ernest,” Luna paused for a moment before asking, “Are you from that land as well?”

Using his free arm Ernest opened the door into the dimly lit hallways of Canterlot High. “Me? Naw. Me and Rimshot are from Missouri, land of the bluebirds and the guberburgers. We’re still trying to get back there. Kind of slow goin, being broke and all.”

The vice-principal thought for a moment. “I’ve never heard of this place called Missouri.”

The group stopped and waited as a pack of students passed in front of them. The youths stared curiously at the faculty and the people they were helping but did not question the situation. They had a party to attend that was still going strong, judging from the noise coming from the school gym.

As soon as the youths were gone, Ernest started talking again. “It’s not on this side of the statue, and it’s not on the other side either. So I’m kind of an alien. I don’t know if I’m legal or not, in case you’re wondering.”

“But I thought you were from over here,” Shining Armor grunted. “That’s why we sent you to Canterlot Highschool. Didn’t you say you had a job waiting for you at this place?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” the human paused. “I was thinking of Chickasaw Falls, home of the Fighting Muskrats. I hear they got a heck of a football team. Their band isn’t so hot though.”

The trio halted to allow Cadence and Celestia to catch up. The principal waved off the concerns of several of the students before proceeding. Once the small squad of awkward moving humans was reunited, the quintet pushed past the main exit. Waiting in front of the equestrian statue was Sunset Shimmer, Rimshot, and the rest of Shimmer’s new friends.

“Are you sure we can’t go with you, darling?” asked Rarity. The teenager took off the wig she was wearing and stowed it in a handbag. All the girls were still wearing the costumes from the play. “From the sound of things, you could use all the help you can get.”

“Yeah, and no offense, but how is milk supposed to stop a troll?” asked Rainbow Dash. The teenager stuffed the last carton of milk into her backpack and handed it to Sunset.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. Trolls can’t stand being loved, and milk somehow ties into that. It’s kind of weird.” She sighed and looked at her classmates. “I’d take all of you with me in a heartbeat, but if we fail to stop the trolls in Equestria, than I’ll need all of you to be ready over here.”

“But . . .” A.J. started to say.

“I’ll be alright. This is something I have to help Ernest do. And I’m not going to let a bunch of trolls bully my home. Besides, troll fighter one has dealt with this problem before, right Ernest?”

The janitor had just let Shining Armor down onto a nearby bench. He turned and gave Sunset a thumbs up. “Ain’t no troll too wide, ain’t no troll too high that I can’t beat.” Hearing a bark of approval, the lanky custodian walked over to where Fluttershy was standing and petted the dog she was holding in her arms. “Ready to go, boy?”

The beagle yipped in delight.

Ernest beamed at his pet. “That’s the spirit, Rimshot. Just save some trolls for the rest of us.”

Gloomily, the pink-haired teenager put down the little dog and scratched the cute beagle underneath the chin. “Be careful, Rimshot.”

The dog whimpered and licked Fluttershy’s hand before going to stand with his master.

“Thanks for looking after him again,” Ernest murmured. “You did as good a job as your pony-self in Camelot.”

Fluttershy paused and thought about what the custodian had just said. “Um, you’re welcome. Just keep him safe. I don’t want anything bad happening to that sweet doggy.”

Ernest nodded. “I will, but don’t worry about Rimshot. He bites like a skeeter and claws like a mongoose. He eats trolls for breakfast and brusselsprouts for dessert. Ain’t that right, boy?”

The troll-fighting hound looked up at his master and gave a slow confused-sounding yip.

“Good enough,” replied Ernest.

Sunset looked around at the preparations taking place around her. She watched the interactions between Ernest and Fluttershy with amusement and graciously accepted a homemade cupcake from Pinkie Pie. As she munched away at her treat, her attention drifted to the two sisters that governed Canterlot High. The principals were quietly conversing with the changed ponies from the Crystal Empire in front of a hedge like the ones Ernest had been trimming a little while ago behind the school. When this revelation struck the teenager, she dug her phone from her pocket and found the picture she had taken of Ernest’s shrub art. Typing a few words into a text message she attached the picture and sent it to Vice-principal Luna’s phone number.

“Trolls?” asked Principal Celestia. She sighed wearily and added, “There’s always something happening, isn’t there?”

“Unfortunately,” agreed Princess Cadence. “The good news is we have an expert for this particular matter.” The humanized alicorn gestured towards Ernest. The janitor was testing the wind with a wet finger and tossing powdered milk up into the air.

Celestia opened her mouth and closed it quickly, like she was about to say something she was going to regret. Instead, she settled on, “If you say so.”

Vice-Principal Luna shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “I don’t like the idea of sending Sunset Shimmer into danger. Granted, she is strong and resourceful, but she is a student of this school and therefore our responsibility.”

Using her husband’s shoulder for support, the ruler of the Crystal Empire stood shakily on her own two feet. She looked Luna in the eye and stated, “She is also a daughter of Equestria and probably the most powerful unicorn, second only to Twilight Sparkle.” Her gaze softened. “I promise you, I . . .” She looked over at Shining Armor, who was standing unsteadily by her side. “We will look after her.”

Luna closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “I suppose that will have to suffice. I can’t force her to stay here. But I would if I could.” Feeling a vibration in her hip pocket, she turned away from the Equestrians with a muttered apology. The principal took out her phone and frowned at the text. “Just FYI, Ernest made this for you.” The vice-principal glanced up at Sunset Shimmer in confusion. The teen had momentarily ceased her preparations and was staring back at Luna. The message had an attachment. Looking back down at her phone, Luna opened the picture. After staring at her phone for a few seconds trying to comprehend what she was looking at, it finally dawned on her. The school official let out a shocked gasp and covered her mouth. The bush sculpture was breath-taking. She could easily make out who the two figures were seated at a table gazing into each other’s eyes over a shared milkshake.

“Luna, are you alright?” asked her big sister.

The younger sibling recovered slowly. She looked up at Sunset Shimmer who was smiling at her. Luna’s phone buzzed for a second time. She looked down at her device. The message read, “You should thank him before we go.” Luna’s heart fluttered and her hands became very sweaty at the thought of talking to the redneck. But she looked back at Sunset and nodded her agreement.

“Luna?” asked Celestia again.

The vice-principal coughed and cleared her throat. “Yes, sorry, I’m fine Principal Celestia.” She glanced at the troll fighter for a moment. “Excuse me for a moment, please.”

Ernest grabbed a handful of powdered milk and tossed it into the air. He nodded as he watched the floury substance blow lazily through the dark night. “Yeah, this is a good batch. If I remember the Tulip Brother’s 101st Airborne Division’s Troll Resistance and Counter Insurgency Handbook correctly, you want your air-worthy troll repellent to linger in the atmosphere for precisely five point seven seconds.

Rimshot shook his head and barked in disgust.

“It is so a real manual. And I got a bargain on it at $78.99.”

The beagle replied with a series of yips and a sneer.

Ernest frowned. “So what if it was written in crayon? The strategies laid out in it are sound. Who wrote that Art of War book?” Ernest paused and put a finger to his chin in thought. “Was it Confushucks, Cornwhole, Confoundeded,” The redneck’s face brightened when he snapped his fingers in recollection. “Confucius, that’s his name. Remember what Confucius said about strategy, Rimshot?”

The beagle stared up at his master and slowly shook his head.

“He said if a strategy is strange but it works, the strategy is not strange. I got a feeling we’re going into a dicey situation, boy. And we need all the official troll fighting know-how we can get our hands on. Our minds cannot afford distraction at this critical junction. From here on in we must eat, live, breathe, and think like a troll. We need to be razor sharp, focused like a laser. We c---“

“Excuse me, Ernest, but may I have a word with you before you leave?”

Ernest felt the container of powdered milk slip from his grip. He turned around and tried to hide the box from view. “Sure, Vice-principal Luna.”

Luna’s voice was polite but resolute when she asked, “Did you make this?” She held up her phone.

The troll fighter’s eyes widened. He visibly squirmed trying to think of the best way to answer the question. “Oh, that. Uh, well you see ma’am. I . . . I had an idea that I’d enter a bush, I mean a shrub in a contest back home. Yeah, that’s right. It was a Valentine’s Day theme shrub trimming contest. I have this lady friend back home who looks a lot like you and . . . and.”

The school official gave Ernest a cold stare.

Worrell sighed and hung his head. “Yes. I made that. The name of the piece is called Moonlight Bliss . . . I didn’t get the chance to make a moon. I was going to put it above your head. Er, I mean the piece’s head. I don’t know how it happened. I got to thinking of you and the counselor position and our date uh . . . I mean the job interview. And the next thing I know Sunny is by my side telling me to snap out of it, and I’m staring at this piece of art I didn’t really mean to make. The sheers just took over. Ya know what I mean? I . . . I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Luna shook her head. “Don’t apologize,” she said firmly. And after a moment she added softly, “It’s beautiful.”

Ernest frowned and wrung his hands nervously. “So, you’re not mad at me for defacing school property? I mean that could get ya fired . . . Eh heh heh heh, again.”

The school officer didn’t answer right away. She was marveling at a mere picture of what the strange redneck had made. She ached to see the real thing in all of its glory. Slowly, she put the phone down and faced the troll fighter. “Ernest, are you coming back?”

The handyman stopped playing with his hands, taken aback by the question. He thought for a few seconds before responding. “Would you like me to come back?”

“I’d like that very much,” Luna said happily. Her bluish face flushed a very lively pink. She coughed and added hastily in a professional manner, “I mean, yes. I still wish to discuss with you the assistant counselor’s position. I see great potential in you, Ernest. I can’t just let a resource like you go out the door without an interview.”

Ernest nodded. “Oh yes, ma’am. But I was just laid off, given the axe, furloughed. I might have even been canned. The school was going in a different direction and no longer requiring my services. I mean, I think I might need a letter of recommendation from my last employer.”

Luna stifled a laugh, “Don’t worry about that.” She recovered gracefully, and her face took on a more determined air. “There’s nothing I can do for your custodian vocation, but I understand what you did to get fired and why you did it. Sunset Shimmer is very lucky to have you as a friend.”

The troll fighter nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry about Sunny.” His voice changed to that of a confident warrior. “The safest place in Troll Country is by my side. When one stands with Ernest P. Worrell, one never stands alone or without an overwhelming supply of milk, miak, and marmalade.”

The vice-principal gave Ernest a concerned look. “Just be careful out there. I don’t know much about trolls or where you’re going, but I want you both back in one piece.”

Seeing the worry in his friend’s eyes, Ernest smiled. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re coming back. I promise.”

Ernest looked down at Rimshot. “Come on, boy. Onward and upward.”

The beagle barked up at his master and waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh hush, you.” Ernest replied. He did his best to hide the blush creeping up his face but failed.

Troll fighter one picked up his animal companion and at last bade Luna a final farewell. He waved at Principal Celestia and the rest of Sunset Shimmer’s friends before joining the Equestrians infront of the school statue.

“So how did you two get here? The portal wasn’t supposed to open again for at least another three weeks,” asked Sunset Shimmer.

“You’ll see,” answered Princess Cadence. “Is everyone ready to go?”

“Ready, willing, and able Your Crystalness,” replied the troll slayer. “But, we’re going to need more dairy products then the backpack Sunny’s packing.”

“Don’t worry. The Crystal Empire has the best dairy cows in Equestria. We’ll have all the ammunition we and the crystal guards can carry,” smiled Shining Armor ruthlessly.

“Let’s go,” declared Sunset Shimmer. “Equestria needs us.”

Rimshot agreed with a war howl that split the night. So eager to get into the fray, he jumped from his owner’s arms and charged through the portal.

“Wait for me,” Ernest shouted as he ran after his dog.

Moon Rocks

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Cutie Mark Crusaders Troll Fighting Division

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Girthy Turds

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An Irish Lullaby

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Battle Above the Clouds

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The Nimbus Sucker 9000

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Catch Him if He Falls

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You Can't Kill the Metal

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Hakuna Matata

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You're Worse than My Brother

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Trollmegedon

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Get Me Out of Here

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Did That Just Happen?

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Maybe I Can Save One of Us

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Scurvy Bilge Rats

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Quantum Braking

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Pour me Two Rounds of That

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Are You a Pedophile?

As Ernest and Rimshot left the tree hut, it soon became apparent to the little dog that his master was not well. The lemon-colored Troll Fighter babbled to his faithful companion about random topics as they walked. Every now and then Ernest would sway unsteadily but managed to right himself each time just before tipping over.

Rimshot kept plodding forward, silently praying that the effects of the cursed Mellow Yellow potion would wear off sooner rather than later. The dog did not know how much more of this he could take without snapping.

Much to Rimshot’s annoyance, he heard his master say, “Rimshot, have I ever told you how handsome you look when the moon hits your collar just right?”

This time the dog whirled on Ernest, giving him a stern look and a sterner bark.

“No, Rimshot. Of course I’m not coming on to you. I know you’re seeing a nice bit-- I mean, girlfriend, back home. I’m just saying, any female dog would be lucky to have such a fine pup like you. I mean with your soft white fur, and your nice white teeth, and—”

Rimshot growled at Ernest.

The garbage man blinked slowly and took the hint. “Sorry, boy. Let’s talk about something else.”

The pair continued walking and Ernest began, “Now, what was I saying before we started talking about how nice you look?. . . Oh, yeah, the tree-shack. Anyways, you remember that one time at the bank in Tennessee where I was floating off the ground?”

Rimshot yipped quietly in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well the same thing happened in that voodoo shack way back when.”

Rimshot rolled his eyes.

Ernest continued, oblivious to his dog’s exasperation, “Except I wasn’t being electrocuted. I was dreaming. I was floating above myself--I mean my real self, you know what I mean? And those masks . . . them masks that we saw were alive and talking. But man, those masks were pretty hard to understand. And they wanted to say everything in Dr. Suess, just like that note on the door.”

Rimshot shook his head as his master continued talking.

“Now this is where it gets weird.”

Despite Ernest’s obvious aliments, Rimshot snickered a little and barked.

“Yeah, well, I know this is already weird, but it’s the truth . . . maybe. Those masks said we weren’t in Missouri anymore but someplace called Equestria. And that this place was . . . inhabited by ponies . . . and other things. I’ll be honest. I kind of tuned ‘em out after they said that.”

The beagle looked up at his master dubiously.

“Don’t look at me like that boy,” Ernest defended. “It was more than a dream, and I know masks can’t talk. Or at least they couldn’t last I checked, but this was different.”

Rimshot gaped up at Ernest. The beagle could stand it no more. Rimshot looked Ernest in the eye while he gave several loud, scolding barks.

“What do you mean none of that was real, and I’m higher than Sputnik?” Ernest asked incredulously. He stood up and grabbed an overhead pinecone dangling above his head and began munching on it. “I’m just fine,” he said spraying pine cone chunks as he spoke. “Except this apple needs more sugar.”

Rimshot considered chomping Ernest on the leg to make him stop eating but decided that his human companion had ingested worse things than pinecones in the past. The wooden fruit also had the added benefit of keeping the human quiet as they slowly made their way to a little stream.

“Good boy, Rimshot,” Ernest declared, gulping the last of his pine cone treat. “We can get the smell of anchovies and pickles out of this thing and later give it back to Zecora.” Ernest thought about this for a moment. “I just hope she isn’t too upset at us for borrowing it and that she doesn’t decide to turn our faces into masks. You don’t think she holds a grudge, do you, boy?”

Rimshot just shrugged his shoulders as Ernest dumped out the contents of the pot and began to wash out the cauldron.

The beagle was relieved that his master seemed to be feeling better. Ernest’s speech had improved . . . well, it was back to normal at least, and he had stopped swaying like he was on a boat about to capsize.

Rimshot had wandered off a little way and was looking around the immediate area when he heard his master’s trademark scream.

“WWHHHAAAAAA! Rimshot! Rimshot, help! Come quick!”

Immediately the dog rushed to where Ernest was, ready to pounce on the nearest threat. Instead, he saw his owner gazing into the water with a soaked head.

“How long have I’ve been like this?” the sopping wet Ernest asked.

The replying bark did not make Ernest happy.

“Could I be more specific?” Ernest repeated, “You know you can be pretty mean sometimes for a dog, Rimshot. You know what I’m talking about! How long have I’ve been the color of a banana?”

After another bark, the Troll Slayer said, “Yeah, I noticed my hand was yellow, but . . . I thought it was just moon light bouncing off the tree leaves and making it look that way. I tried just now to wash it real good, you know what I mean? And it doesn’t come off. How did this happen?”

Rimshot just shook his head and barked nonchalantly a few times.

When the canine was done, Ernest pointed a finger at him and said, “Ah ha! This is your fault! I knew it. If you hadn’t made me drink that . . . not Mellow Yellow stuff, I wouldn’t look like a fruit. The kind you eat, not the other kind.”

Faithfully, the dog did not make a reply but sat patiently waiting for his master’s next words.

Ernest let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, buddy. You’re right. It’s my own fault. That container did look different than your average Coke product bottle. Can ya forgive me?”

The beagle, after hearing his owner’s apology, just smiled and nodded.

Troll Fighter One grinned back and said in his best cowboy voice, “Buddy, I wouldn’t trade ya for a flying horse with a rainbow mane. Now come on. Let’s get back to the truck.”

Shortly after the tender moment between man and dog, the two friends were reunited with the Chevy.

Ernest ran up to his beloved vehicle and said, “See, I told you we would be back for you, my little troll crusher.” He patted the truck’s hood affectionately. “We didn’t find a tow truck . . . or a town, but I think we can fix ya.”

With that, Rimshot climbed into the driver’s seat and popped the hood, chasing off a few bats that had made the truck cab their home.

As Ernest lifted the hood, he leaned up against the truck and said to his dog smugly, “Now, I bet you’re wondering how I’m going to fix our battle wagon with stuff we borrowed from a witch.”

The beagle was by Ernest’s side, nodding his head dubiously.

“I can see you’re a little skeptical, but have no fear, Rimshot. After all, I am Ernest P. Worrell. If I am anything, I am resourceful and tenacious with a capital T. You just sit right there and let the master work.”

As he said this, the hinges holding the hood up snapped. The hood slammed down on Ernest’s right hand. Ernest looked at his hand and then at Rimshot, not quite comprehending what just happened. He looked from the hood to his dog three more times until he finally screamed, “WWWHHHHAAAAAA!!!!!”

Minutes later after bandaging his hand, Ernest got to work. Every single thing that the sanitation engineer took from the tree house was nailed, taped, beaten, and wired into place. Being the flexible man that he was, the Troll Fighter was working literally in the engine compartment. His legs stuck straight up out of the gap between the engine block and the radiator. Rimshot, to his dying day, never could figure out how his master managed to fit himself in there, much less how he got out. Rimshot helped by handing Ernest tools and whatever else he needed. The rest of the time Rimshot spent holding a flashlight between his teeth so Ernest could see.

Finally, as the first light of dawn was cresting the ocean of surrounding trees, Troll Fighter One untangled himself from the engine. Despite being covered from head to toe with grease, he was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, Rimshot, I think we did it. Come up here and take a look.”

The agile beagle scampered up the front of the Chevy and beheld his master’s handiwork.

“What do you think, boy?” Ernest asked eagerly.

Rimshot took one look at the “fixed” innards of the Chevy and puked.

“Oh, come on! It doesn’t look that bad!” Ernest scoffed.

When his pet was done dry heaving, Rimshot hopped down from the truck and barked weakly at his master.

Ernest nodded his head excitedly, “Yeah, I fixed the starter with some sofa stuffing and a quill pen. It’s over there next to the wooden teapot by the battery. Do you want to see?”

The dog shook his head and grumbled about his owner’s farfetched mechanical skills.

“Trust me, boy. I know this looks rough, but it will work. It’s not supposed to be a permanent fix, you know what I mean? Just enough to get us out of the forest. Speaking of which . . .”Ernest looked all around them. He couldn’t see a clear path to drive his truck out. The gaps between the trees were too narrow.

“How in the heck are we . . .”

Ernest never completed the sentence as three small figures burst out of cover mere feet away.

“BOO!!!” they yelled.

The surprise was complete.

“WWWHHHHAAAAAA!!!!!”

Ernest had never screamed so loud in his life. Rimshot’s fur stood on end as he howled right along with his master. The sheer volume of the yells and howls caught the newcomers off guard as they screamed a much higher pitched feminine wail.

The sanitation worker was first to recover as he frantically rummaged around the caldron for his water gun full of milk. As he brought the weapon to bear on the unknown foes, he got a good look at what he was facing. Three small trolls clad in black were before him, crouching on their hands and knees.

Ernest proceeded to drench the tiny trolls in milk, wondering where they had come from. The only answer that came to him was that the troll he had dispatched earlier had broken into three smaller vicious versions of itself, like an evil Russian nesting doll.

The trolls sputtered and coughed and wiped the milk from their faces.

Ernest laughed at their discomfort, “Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh! That’s what you get you nasty trolls.”

The Troll Slayer looked down at his dog. “Remember, Rimshot, this is why you never leave home without your weaponized Braum’s dairy products. Braum’s is not only delicious, it’s lethal.”

Ernest then squirted some of the milk down this throat, smacking his lips as he did so. The sanitation engineer’s confidence evaporated as the milk-drenched trolls began to laugh and giggle like little school girls.

“Oh man, you should have seen your face,” the troll said in-between heaves of laughter pointing at Ernest. “I didn’t know ponies could scream that loud.”

“Scootaloo, I told you this was a bad idea! We could have given this poor pony a heart attack. We’re really sorry,” the troll in the middle said.

The last troll finally stopped laughing and replied in a southern twang, “Aw, lighten up, Sweetie Belle. We were just foolin around. I’m sure he understands. He fought back just fine, if ya ask me. Besides, it’s only a few days till Nightmare Night. How are we gonna get our Cutie Marks in scariest costume makers if we don’t practice?”

The troll apparently named Sweetie Belle replied, “Hmmm, you got a point, Apple Bloom. But I just think maybe we should go about this in a less heart attack inducing way. I mean, look at him. We scared him so bad, it looks like he drank a whole bottle of Mellow Yellow. Are you alright?”

Ernest’s head nodded on its own accord while his anxiety and confusion mounted. He stared with terrified eyes at the tiny trolls. Questions poured into Ernest’s mind so quickly that he was compelled to give voice to them through his legion of personalities.

“Why ain’t them little troll doggies dead?” he asked in cowboy.

“Is the milk bad? It wouldn’t surprise me; my son always did have poor taste when it came to dairy,” Auntie Nelda said, sniffing the milk gun in disgust.

The aircraft gunner in him looked down the weapon’s sights. “Are Russian commies milk proof?”

“Where’s the high ground?” Julius Caesar asked.

“Why are they so small? Do you smell fish?” the hair stylist side of Ernest asked.

Auntie Nelda sighed, “A woman’s work is never done. It looks like I shall have to do my parental duty and kiss one. That should kill them.”

The troll called Scootaloo looked worriedly at the tall biped.

“Uh, guys?” she asked addressing her fellow trolls. “I think we might want to leave now.”

The human’s nervous breakdown came to an end suddenly. He dropped his toy gun and slowly came forward to the fearful trolls. His arms were outstretched wide in a gesture of friendship. A crazy smile was plastered on his face. “Come mere, little fellas. Who wants a hug?”

Screaming, the three small trolls took off running on all fours into the forest.

Ernest chased after them saying sweetly, “Come back my friends! I love you!”

He took off after them at a loping jog, Rimshot hot on his heels.

Sweetie Belle, not watching where her hooves were taking her, tripped over a tree branch and fell heavily to the grass.

“Wait!” she yelled to her friends. “Come back! Don’t leave me with--”

Sweetie Belle squeaked in surprise as she was picked up by the tall yellow biped.

“Aw, just wook at you!” Ernest exclaimed. “You’re so cute.”

Ernest then began to dance with the squirming, protesting little troll, hugging her to his chest.

The troll squeaked angrily, trying to push him away. “What are you doing?! Put me down right now! Are you some kind of pedophile?”

Ernest’s eyes grew big. “What? NO! That’s disgusting. You’re a sick little troll.”

He then returned to talking gently and sweetly. “Ahem. No, my sweet little troll. I am loving you to death. Now, pucker up sweetling and say goodnight.”

The troll let out a piercing scream as the tall pedophile kissed her on the lips, good and long.

Ernest then set the nasty thing on the ground, expecting her to explode spectacularly. The troll continued to scream and sob.

“Sweetie Belle! Are you alright?” Apple Bloom raced to join her. She tore off her ugly troll costume and pulled off Sweetie Belle’s disguise as well.

Ernest took a step back.

Ponies. They were ponies. Cute and adorable tiny ponies.

Scootaloo tossed aside her costume and shrieked at Ernest, “What the BUCK is the matter with you?”

The tiny white unicorn continued to scream and sob. The yellow pony tried to calm her down. And the orange-winged pony . . . well, that one looked like she wanted to kill him.

Not knowing what to make of this changing situation, Ernest just stared dumbfounded. A moment ago they were all trolls. But now . . . ? Ernest looked down at Rimshot for an answer. Instead, he found the dog to be looking up at him for the same thing.

Ernest turned away and ran screaming, “Horse-Trolls! There’s talking horse-troll mutants in the forest! We can’t kill em! Run for your lives!”

Fleeing in a blind panic, Ernest didn’t see the sturdy tree limb hanging at eye level. He ran straight into it. Groaning in pain, Ernest crossed his eyes and slumped face forward onto the forest floor. Rimshot kept on running, knowing there was nothing he could do for his master against the troll ponies. He’d just have to come for him later if he was still alive. Like his owner, he would not leave his friends behind for long.

Stars Above and Pits Below

Spike watched in awe as Zecora dipped her hooves into the pool of liquid glass. Twilight for her part was pouring magic into the mirror, keeping it in its fluid state. The dragon had seen the alicorn perform feats of magic above and beyond his wildest dreams. However, this was another level. Building a portal to another dimension, albeit a temporary one, was something he had never expected to witness.

The zebra grunted. “For me to breach into the beyond I’ll need more magic to weaken the bonds.”

Twilight only nodded and redoubled her efforts. The mirror now fully encased in the Princess’s aura began to float off the ground.

Spike did not know how Zecora was doing this, but he was now very sure he did not want to get on the zebra’s bad side. It did not seem like she had done much. She had painted her face in violet swirls and sprinkled some purple dust in the shape of a pentagram on the looking glass’s surface. Last, but not least, she had placed a grease-stained rag that had come from Ernest’s old truck in the center of the pentagram. She then began chanting. The brew mistress had nodded to Twilight, giving her the signal to give life to the spell. The glass in the mirror had turned to indigo-colored mercury, and through it Spike could see into one of the rooms of Canterlot High. The view was blurry, like looking into a lake of purple haze, but he could make out enough to see that they were looking into some kind of music room. Moments later a tall, lanky figure appeared, pushing a mop around the floor. “Ernest!” Spike had shouted. “It’s him.”

Zecora’s grunts turned to shouts as she struggled against an unseen barrier just beneath the pool’s surface. Spike watched Ernest stop mopping and focus his attention on the mirror. It looked like the human was saying something, but Spike could hear nothing over Twilight’s magic and the Zebra’s chanting and grunting.

“Zecora, I think you’re doing it. He’s seeing something on his side of the mirror,” yelled Spike.

Thus encouraged, the brew mistress hollered to the princess. “More power, my friend. We are approaching the end!”

Twilight closed her eyes and dug deep. Sweat washed the pony’s face and began to collect underneath her hooves. The mirror’s wooden frame buckled and broke underneath the intense pressure.

The zebra’s chanting shouts increased in volume to full-on screams as her hooves pressed down. Spike bit his talons as the tension continued to build until finally Zecora’s hooves passed through the mirror and into Ernest’s realm. The dragon could here singing the second Zecora had pierced the barrier.

“ ’Tis I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow!
Oh Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so!”

Spike watch Zecora lunge forward almost dipping her face into the purple maelstrom of barely contained energy. She grabbed the human and heaved with all her might. The baby dragon did not wait for an invitation when he leapt to help. He reached his claws through the purple pool and grabbed onto something that felt like a foot. Spike heaved with Zecora. As he did so, he felt the appendage he was pulling on change from something cold and metallic to something round and rubbery. The two pulled until a great big chunk of anthromorphic metal exited the warped mirror. As soon as this happened Twilight cut off the flow of magic to the mirror and collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. The purplish mass of liquid glass coalesced into a disfigured chunk of black sand and shattered when it hit the wooden floor of the library.

Spike winced at the noise, but his attention was solely on what he and Zecora had just fished from the dimensional pond. “What is that? It can’t be Ernest, can it?” The dragon looked at the metal thing’s glowing, blue, square head. It had a message that said, “An error occurred while displaying the previous 27,532 errors. Rebooting in 10, 9, 8 . . .”

Zecora frowned. “I hope so, my little dragon, for we do not have the resources to try this again.”

“7, 6, 5 . . .”

Regaining some of her strength, Twilight slowly walked up to where the others were and looked down at the machine. Words laced with exhaustion she commented, “Maybe he’s in a costume. Ernest can disguise himself pretty well when he wants to.”

Spike and Zecora nodded hopefully.

“4, 3, 2, 1”

With a happy jingle, the blue screen disappeared and was replaced by a smiling, yellow face decked out with a flat cap. The robot slowly sat up. “Faith! Either that was one heck of an update package, or I need some serious defragging. Now, where’s me mop?”

Spike frowned. That did not sound like the voice of the redneck. “Ernest? Is that you?”

The robot blinked and studied the three other occupants that were in the room with him. He stared at the Equestrians for a long time before the small bulldozer blade lodged in his chest flipped down to produce a keyboard. With fast, hydraulic hands, Willie typed frantically all the while muttering, “No, no, no. This can’t be right. I thought he was just telling me stories. I can’t be here.”

Twilight, Spike, and Zecora looked at each other in confusion as the thing typed and talked.

“I have spent little time with Ernest at best, but was he usually like this?” asked Zecora.

Both Spike and Twilight shook their heads.

With a loud clunk the robot’s keyboard retracted back into his chest cavity. “Okay, there’s nothing wrong with me. No virtual gremlins, hard drive is pure, posotronic brain accelerator and flux capacitor are green, I’m even current on me patches by Jaysus. So that means . . .” Slowly, the robot pushed himself up onto his wheeled feet. With one of his hands he rubbed the back of his monitor/head like he was unsure how to proceed. He looked at the alicorn and asked, “Lass, be ye Princess Twilight Sparkle, per chance?”

Twilight beamed, “Yes.”

The robot closed his eyes. “Stars above and pits below. The database and facial scans don’t lie. This place is real. I’m in Camelot.”

Spike brightened. “Ernest! It is you.”

Willie shook his head. “Nay, lad. Me name is Willie. Ernest P. Worrell is me creator and Da. Right now he’s watching Sunset Shimmer back at the academy perform a play that I’d be proud to watch in the Abbey Theatre.” Willie’s virtual eyes narrowed. “Speaking of which, why am I here instead of over there?”

Zecora motioned for Willie to follow her. She opened a door to a small adjoining room and gestured to what was inside it.

The robot took a look inside, and then did a double take. “By Saint Simon’s stubby shillelagh, that’s here too?” Inside the room was the pin-cushioned, catatonic troll. “I thought Da took care of all the foul fae folk. How many of these wee demons do ye have knockin about?”

“There’s one more somewhere in the Everfree Forest, and he could have five dolls,” Twilight muttered.

Willie closed his virtual eyes and processed these new revelations. “Do we know where the evil Yggdrasil is?”

“What?” asked the alicorn.

“The tree, where’s his bloody tree?”

Spike shook his head. “We don’t know yet. Nopony has spotted anything in the forest yet.”

Willie bit back a curse and looked back at the pinned troll. “I take it he didn’t want to talk?”

The Equestrians filled him in on the brief interrogation and how it ended so abruptly.

“Okay, so he’s not dead. He just stroked off after he said something about a Pony of Shadows. How very Shakespeareic of him.”

Before the Equestrians could reply, Willie held up a hand to silence them. “Okay, here’s the plan. You lot get my Da here. I don’t care how you do it. I don’t care what favors you have to call in. I don’t care how many mirrors you have to bugger up; just get him here.”

Twilight frowned. “The mirror to Canterlot High is closed. We need to send a message to Princess Cadence to see if she can somehow open the portal and bring Ernest back.”

Spike grimaced. “We got another problem. Even if they find Ernest, it’s going to take hours for him to get here.”

“Leave that to me, my friends. I have an acquaintance that will help us to our ends.”

“Who is it?” asked Twilight.

“There is no time to explain, Twilight, my friend. Preparations need to be made, and I will begin.” With that, Zecora left the company and ventured forth into a much more uncertain world.

The alicorn turned her attention back to the robot. She watched one of its fingers telescope out to form a fine, foot-long point. “Willie, what are you doing?”

Willie eyed the Troll’s skull like it was a watermelon about to be cut in half. “Something ye don’t want to see. If he won’t talk, then we’ll have to find out what he knows another way. And we don’t have all night.”

Twilight nodded in understanding and shoed Spike out of the room and told him what to say in the message to Cadence. Meanwhile, Willie had placed one of his hands on the troll’s head.

The alicorn watched in fascination as jumbled heaps of raw data streamed by on Willie’s monitor/head, completely obscuring Willie’s avatar. After several moments, Willie’s smiling, yellow flatcapped face reappeared on the monitor. “Bloody hell. Can’t go in through the skull; bone density is too thick, even for my widgets. Have to go in through the mouth.” The robot repositioned himself to the front of the troll and looked up into the gaping maw of the catatonic troll. He nodded. “Should work.”

“Can I help?”

Willie blinked and looked at the tired alicorn. The poor thing looked like she could barely stand and her face had a greenish complexion. The robot flexed his hands as if loosening them up for the task ahead. “Are ye sure you wouldn’t rather be somewhere else, lass? This won’t be pretty.”

“I’ll try and keep him from biting down on your arm while you are operating.”

“Much obliged, if you’re up to it. You look about as healthy as an Irish man’s liver.”

Twlight took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.” The pony looked at the troll and asked, “This might seem like an odd question, but why do we still need Ernest? He’s just a human, right? Aren’t you better equipped to handle this problem with your instruments and knowledge about the trolls?”

“In a word, no, I’m not. There is a prophecy written about these little buggars back on Earth. ‘From the innocence of five, an evil army shall arise. When blossoms shower down like rain, my dark kingdom shall come again. There is one who can stop me, if he will dare, with the heart of a child and a mother’s care.’”

Twilight nodded. “That’s from Old Lady Hackmore’s book. Remind me to give that to Ernest when he comes back.”

Willie turned back to the troll and pointed. “Everything I know about trolls, Equestria, ponies, has come from Ernest P. Worrell. According to my Da, back in Missouri he encountered a troll so powerful nothing could stop it. Not milk, not bullets, nor the combined might of an entire town. Troll Fighter One doesn’t know how the troll grew so powerful; no one does. But it did, and it was a holy terror to behold. This troll had taken five innocent children and turned them into wooden bookends to create his army, just like this wee turd blossom was doing,” Willie said, thumping the pinned troll on the leg. “The people wanted this thing’s blood and weren’t too particular about how they got it. They thought their kids were gone and gone forever. At the end, it was my da against probably the most powerful creature on the planet. All Ernest had was a carton of milk in his hand and a ring of fire at his back. You see, I have my dad’s memories in my head. And I will never forget to my deactivation day the naked hatred in those people’s faces.”

The pony’s eyes widened. She had been told this story before by Ernest himself while he was in his hospital bed. He had explained things in his own unorthodox way, but he had not impressed on her just how epic the confrontation really was. “But Ernest won. He kissed the troll, and it exploded.”

“Aye, that’s what he did. For a few seconds he loved that troll like any mother would her son. The creature that wanted him dead became the most important thing in the world to him.” Willie sighed. “The point is, it’s easier to give love, even unconditional love, to your family, your friends, people you know that have your back through thick and thin. Unconditional love is a bloody rare commodity when it comes to dealing with strangers, the shady characters in the streets, or the average joe in a crowd. Unconditional love for an enemy that wants to kill you and messes with kids like that . . .” Willie paused and shook his head. “I’m willing to bet my wheels and rubber that you can’t fill a water closet with enough people who can give that kind of love to a monster.” The robot gave the alicorn a hard look. “Lassie, I’m a robot. I don’t even know if I can love, let alone give it unconditionally like my father does. All I do know is that Ernest P. Worrell can give that kind of love. And that is why we need him here.”

The Princess considered what the robot had said. “I never thought about that. But, you’re right. I don’t know that many ponies that could or would love a troll like Rotnart.” She let her gaze wonder to a nearby table. On it stood the six wooden dolls that were very near and dear to her heart.

Gently, Willie replied, “Don’t fret, Princess. We’ll turn them back. You have me word on that. Now if ye are ready, I could use your help.”

Without a word, Twilight’s magical aura encompassed the troll’s jaws. She didn’t feel any resistance from the comatose troll.

Moments later, Willie stepped up to Rotnart’s gaping maw. With a quick, fluid motion, the robot implanted his probing spike through the roof of the troll’s mouth.

The alicorn looked away while still maintaining her magical hold on the creature’s mouth. She felt the troll jolt but remain docile.

“Hmmm, interesting. It’s like watching a crappy Welsh play with half the acts missing and no one’s talking.”

Twilight opened her eyes in curiosity. She was about to ask what the robot was seeing, but to her surprise, she didn’t need to. Flashing by on Willie’s monitor were strange images that only lasted seconds at a time. The pony stepped back in surprise. She saw Discord gesturing to the Tree of Harmony. After that she saw another troll talking and walking to a crumbling building that she recognized as the Castle of the Two Sisters. Moments later, she saw what looked like Nightmare Moon enchant both trolls with some sort of powerful spell. “These are Rotnart’s memories, right?”

For a reply, Willie extracted his metallic probe which killed the feed to the troll’s memories. He repositioned his arm by a few degrees and stabbed into the troll’s brain once again. This elicited a wet gurgle from the troll. Twilight felt the troll’s jaws reflexively bite down. The alicorn held back the teeth and after a while, the troll stopped biting. Twilight looked at Willie’s screen and saw that Rotnart’s memories began to flow by on Willie’s monitor/head again. “Aye, I’m trying to hit the hippocampus . . . but I’m not bloody sure where that is. It’s not like there’s an anatomy book on these things that says ‘poke the evil troglodyte here to get to his head-movies.’”

Twilight’s eyes lit up. “Maybe not on these trolls, but there is one on cave trolls. They might be similar.”

The pony could hear the confused surprise through the robot’s speakers. “You have one of those?”

“Yes. This is a library, after all. I know exactly where it is.”

Without looking up, Willie said, “We don’t have time for . . . .” The next thing he knew, a book was under his proverbial nose. The pages depicted detailed pictures of a troll’s brain, skull, and scalp, along with little descriptions of each part.

The robot extracted the probe and took a closer look at the book. He smirked. “Heh, well done, lass. This helps.”

Twilight felt a smile twitching across her tired face. “Thanks.”

After a minute of speed reading, Willie put down the book and declared, “Right then. According to this book we should find what we’re looking for about here.” Slowly, the robot inserted his super-fine probe once more into Rotnart’s gray matter. The flat-capped, yellow, smiley face that represented Willie’s emotions frowned. “By Cromwell’s cursed cock. What is this?”

“What? What’s wrong?” Twilight heard the sound of thin metal hitting thick glass. “Tink, tink, tink, tink.”

On the fourth “tink,” Twilight saw a blinding flash of blackness. To the alicorn it was like staring into an eclipse. Half a heartbeat later she heard a loud crash. She blinked away the after images of the bright, dark light and saw that Willie had been thrown across the room and had landed in a heap, breaking several bookshelves. The robot’s monitor was cracked down the middle. The smiling, yellow screen avatar had two x’s over his eyes and several virtual teeth had been knocked out.

The princess galloped over to the robot’s side. “Willie, are you alright?”

The machine slowly rose to his wheeled feet. “Jaysus, Mar---, bzzzt, and Joseph,” muttered the robot. “Yeah, I’m ok--- aaaaaaaay.”

“You don’t sound ok.”

Willie slammed his hydraulic metal hands against the side of his computer screen, which seemed to help some. “I don’t know what’s in that tro-- ‘bzzzzt’ head, but it’s none too pure. Something put a block of nasty crap in there, and it’s ‘bzzzzzzzt’ keeeeeeeeeeping the troll down and out. It’s sending signals to keep the troll in a coma. And apparently it doesn’t liked to be tam-, tamm-, ta-, ‘bzzzt.’ Bloody Hell!” screamed Willie in frustration at his new speech impediment. “It doesn’t liked being #*#$ed with.”

Twilight put her hoof to her mouth in concentration. She thought of the blinding black light and the images she saw of the pony of shadows. Both times she saw the same blackness. She quickly put two and two together. The alicorn turned to Willie. “If we remove that blockage in Rotnart’s brain, will he return to normal?”

The robot shrugged. “If I was in his shoes, I’d probably feel a lot better. Can you ‘bzzzt’ do it?”

Twilight looked at Rotnart. “Maybe, if this is what I think it is. A disenchantment spell should do the trick. Since you already set off the trap, this should be fairly simple.”

“Happy to help,” Willie replied drily.

Twilight sent her magic questing through the troll’s mouth, following the pin-prick holes Willie had made minutes before. “A thousand years ago, Nightmare Moon enslaved ponies by using her magic to place these talismans in her victim’s heads. Her magic would coalesce and form into small, solid blocks. According to the books I’ve read, the effectiveness of these blocks of magic were not consistent. Some ponies could resist being controlled by Nightmare Moon better than others. Ironically, the less intelligent the pony was, the better they could resist.”

At that moment, Spike peaked into the room. “Is everypony okay in here? I heard some crashing and swearing a minute ago.”

Willie raised his hand. “Guilty of both. You got the ‘bzzzzt’ message done?”

“Yeah, I just sent it. What happened to you?”

“The Troll’s egg salad was booby trapped. Long story. I’ll tell ya when you’re older.”

Before Spike could ask any further questions, Twilight sent a pulse of energy through her horn down the tendrils of magic that ended in the Troll’s brain. The alicorn could feel the dark block of magic dissolve and disappear completely.

The troll’s eyes popped opened. The next thing Twilight and her friends knew, Rotnart was filling the library with his screaming. “Rabuf! Rabuf! Don’t read the book!” The Troll was sweating profusely and his breath came in strangled heaves like he had just seen a ghost. Rotnart then locked eyes with the alicorn. “Rabuf, my brother, he’s going to the tree! He’s going to the Tree of Harmony. Once he reads the book to transform the tree, the Pony of Shadows will be freed. We got to stop her! She’ll kill us all! Ponies, trolls, . . . whatever the hell that thing is.” Rotnart said nodding at Willie. “I touched her mind when she tried to ruin mine! I know what she’s going to do, and it’s #$*^ing terrible!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rabuf followed the flight of winged opossums through the night sky with his eyes. It looked like they were looking for something. “Good luck you brave marsupials. I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he said hopefully. The troll turned his attention back to the task at hand. He was close. From where he stood, he could see the staircase that led to the shiny plant thing. He felt a wave a joy wash over him. He was about to make some more friends. There was only one thing that was bothering him. He thought back to the last time he had spoken with Rotnart.

Earlier:

The king turned to his brother and helped him to his feet. “Rabuf. Brother. I am going to ask you to do a very hard thing. Maybe the hardest thing you’re ever going to do in your life. But the future of our race is now in your hands. I need you to concentrate and pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

Rabuf nodded enthusiastically, already forgetting that his brother had tried to choke him to death moments ago. “Sure, boss. What do ya need?”

“I need you to take all the kid dolls you can get your disgusting hands on to the shiny place in the middle of the forest. When you get there, turn to page forty-two in my book. I need you to touch the book to the tree, and then put the five dolls in the hole.”

The younger trolled frowned. “But you told me never to read that book. You said you’d use my intestines as a jump rope if you caught me with that book.”

“I know. But the plan’s changed. Do you know what the number forty-two looks like?”

“Yeah, it looks like a gallows with a snake next to it.”

Rotnart blinked and shook his head. “If you’re short a doll, there’s another one buried with the book and sword right in front of the tree. I don’t know if Discord is a kid or not, but it’s worth a shot. You know where to look for these things, right?”

“Sure, I got it on the map.” Rabuf then proceeded to pull out a piece of old, moldy fabric that had a big X on it and nothing else.

The troll king began to massage his temples in exasperation. He was about to ask Rabuf another question when he looked up suddenly. “Yeah, I know. I know they’re coming. Just throw me a bone and I’ll take care of them.”

Rabuf frowned. “Boss, aren’t you coming with me?”

Rotnart looked at his brother for a long moment. “Yeah, I’ll be right behind you. I just got to take care of something first. Just do as I say and everything will be fine. And for hell’s sake, don’t wait for me.”

The younger troll smiled. “You can count on me.”

Rotnart nodded and started walking away from his brother. He then yelled over his shoulder, “Hey Rabuf, that sword by the book is yours, by the way. Happy Nightmare Night. I’ll see you in the hot country.” And with that, Rotnart disappeared into the crowd of costumed opossums.

The Present:

Rabuf smiled at the memory. His brother sure was great. He knew how much Rotnart liked that sword. It was strange though that he was just giving it to him. And what did he mean by, “I’ll see you in the hot country?” Were they taking a vacation to a desert after this? The troll shrugged. He’d have to ponder on these questions later. As he descended the last step of the stone staircase, he took out his map and referenced it. He began counting his steps from the base of the staircase heading straight east. Once he paced off the last of his steps, he bent down and used his meaty hands as shovels. About a minute later he had procured the buried treasure.

Reaching into the hole, Rabuf produced the sword. He unsheathed the blade and marveled at how shiny and sharp it was. “I could shave many a opossum with this,” declared the troll. Images of a troll-staffed barber shop danced in his head. He pulled out the heavy, hide-bound book next. The tome seemed to have a life of its own as he flipped through the pages absently. He could feel the book pulse with dark powers as he cradled it in his hands. The young troll’s eyes began to burn as he skimmed over the eldritch runes and words. He shook his head and put the book down to grab the last item. Grasping the doll by its long serpentine body, he unearthed the strangest doll he had ever seen. “And you must be Discord,” the troll said to the doll. “My brother told me about you. He said to put you in the Tree of Harmony thing if I don’t have enough tiny opossums. I hope you don’t mind?” Then something occurred to the troll, and a sinking feeling came over the troll’s stomach. “Speaking of which . . .”

The troll emptied his sack that contained the small opossums that had not been sold at Filthy Rich’s stand. Only three dolls fell out onto the ground. After adding the Discord statue to the pile, he found that he was still one doll short. He patted himself down to see if he had hidden away any other small dolls. But all he found were a couple adult opossum dolls and the jackalope figure. Rabuf frowned; none of these would work. The troll shrugged. “Well, guess I gotta go back to Opposumville and get some more. They’ll be so glad to see me.”

Before Rabuf could head for the staircase, he noticed a young squirrel in the white tree. The troll stared at the animal for a moment and then looked down at his collection of kid-dolls. He nodded to himself. “Worth a shot,” he said quietly. The troll cleared his throat and did his best squirrel impression. The mammal looked down from its perch and glared at the new comer. Rabuf stopped talking, his cheeks reddened with embarrassment. “Oopsie, uh, let me rephrase that . . . squeak, squirk, sqwak, squakinoff.”

At this point the squirrel started hurling whatever it could get its little paws on, all the while cussing up a blue-streak at the troll. Rabuf recoiled in shock at the youngling’s viciousness. He was very polite when he asked the little guy if he wanted to be turned into a wooden figure. He even said, “please.” A simple “no” would have been enough; there was no need for all this aggression and bad language. The squirrel was so upset, it lost its balance and fell out of the tree.

The troll sprang into action. With a running-dive, Rabuf caught the furry creature in the cusp of his hands. The troll sighed in relief as he cradled the squirrel. “Don’t worry, little guy, you’re safe now.” Rabuf frowned when he didn’t hear a reply from the mammal. He looked at the small creature and cringed. “Oh, right. Sorry.” The little squirrel had turned into a doll, frozen in a terrified position.

Rabuf looked at his five dolls dubiously. “I wonder what Rotnart would say about this.” He considered waiting for his brother but shook his head. The Troll King had told him not to. Picking up the ancient tome, Rabuf turned to the desired page. He felt the book vibrate in his hands as if it sensed what was about to happen. Rabuf paused; something felt off with what he was about to do. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but then again he had come too far to quit now. And above all things, he wanted to make his brother proud. With that thought in mind, he touched the book to the tree.

The troll took a few steps backwards. He felt an invisible force push him back like a strong gust of wind. He looked at the Tree of Harmony and frowned. It was exactly the same. Just to make sure, he walked around looking for a gaping hole in the tree to put the dolls in. There was none. The book had fallen to the ground. Bending down Rabuf picked up the book and flipped through it. All the pages were blank, and he no longer felt the pulse of energy from the tome.

Rabuf stood there scratching his head considering the current predicament. “Oh boy, Rotnart is not going to be happy that I broke the tree. Hmmm, what would he do if he was here?” The troll looked up at the tree and screamed, “Work you #*$king piece of $h!t!” At that moment he felt that invisible gust of energy again. This time it was coming from behind him. The troll stumbled forward and nearly fell but righted himself just in time. He looked behind him and watched a spectacle very few had ever witnessed.

Trailing the gust were legions of black spirits highlighted in the Tree of Harmony’s bright majesty. They slithered and glided forward just above the forest floor, pouring over the sheer cliff face and staircase. The ghosts came from all directions heading straight for the white tree. Slowly, the ancient tree turned a morbid shade of black and began to droop like a weeping willow. The bark flaked off exposing the rotting underside. Rabuf gazed in fascination as an enormous cavity formed on the side of the transforming tree.

The troll sighed in relief. Grabbing the five dolls, Rabuf marched into the hole and placed the five dolls on top of five shelves built to cradle the troll’s source of power. This only seemed to accelerate the Tree of Harmony’s metamorphism. Green pods began to form on all the branches, starting out the size of tiny buds but rapidly growing into apple-sized vessels. In each pod was one of Rabuf’s brothers or sisters. When the pods grew too heavy, they would fall from the tree and grow.

Rabuf reveled in the moment with a great grin on his face. He had done it. A new troll kingdom will be born.

“That’s quite a sight. You have done well.”

The young troll turned to regard the familiar voice. There before him was the Pony Shadows in all her dark glory. “Well, hi, great black opossum of the under-castle. What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t leave the castle. And have you seen my brother? He’s late for the fun.”

The ghostly alicorn regarded the troll for a moment before saying, “That book of yours released all the evil spirits shackled to the earth for miles around, including yours truly. Ever since you two intruded upon my lair, I have been watching through your brother’s eyes. I knew exactly what his plan was and was able to prepare myself accordingly. I have no intention of feeding your incubator like those other pour souls are now doing.”

Rabuf blinked and looked at the river of ghosts streaming into the roots of the tree. “Oh, is that what’s going on? I thought there was another party going on down there, and you had to be dead to attend.”

The pony of shadows cleared her throat to get the troll’s attention. “As to the fate of your brother, I’m afraid the worst has happened.”

Rabuf raised a shaggy eye-brow. “He bit his tongue?”

“No.”

“He stubbed his toe?”

“No.”

“He ran out of toilet paper?”

The dark alicorn bit back a frustrated scream. She took a deep breath and replied, “He’s dead. The ponies captured him and tortured him to death with milk.”

The young troll stared at the ghost for a moment. “What?”

“I saw it through your brother’s eyes. The King of the Trolls is dead. You are now the leader of this new generation of trolls. Rotnart sacrificed himself for you so you could get here and raise this army. He asked me to be your advisor and help guide you as King before he died.

Rabuf shook his head in disbelief, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “No. No he can’t be. He’s supposed to be here. We need to rescue him. We can’t leave him in the hooves of the opossums. They’ll cut off his head and lay their eggs in his ears.”

The Pony of Shadows nodded her head. “You’re right, your highness. We’ll recover Rotnart’s body, and then the ponies must pay. When these pods fall, we will have an army the likes of which Equestria has never seen in centuries. We will reduce this kingdom to submission in a week.”

Rabuf wiped away his tears and looked up at the growing pods blossoming on the branches of the corrupted tree. “We’re coming, brother.”