A Weird Life

by Trash Boat

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Human, Comedy
Length: 29917

Follow Scott as he deals with magic, technology fallacies, and the drama magnets that are ponies.

With no idea how he arrived, Scott the Human (Self-proclaimed: ladies man, Huguenot, manly-man, and general purpose bad***) has been living and working in Ponyville for three months. The novelty wore off the second week.
Follow Scott and the Ponyvillians as they deal with the inevitable drama that comes with living in Equestria.
They'll laugh, they'll cry, they'll share, but mostly they'll just get drunk, swear a lot, and try to get laid.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-03-11 14:07:36 UTC

Let it Begin Act 1

The 'cock-a-doodle-do' sound of a rooster's crow is heavily romanticized in modern media. The idea that, somehow, waking by a rooster's crow is more picturesque and calming than the cold, mechanical beeps of an alarm clock is a filthy, dirty lie. Those that have been around the birds know that, in fact, the sound a rooster makes is a high-pitched, oddly garbled, broken mess of a noise that permeates the air with a God-forsaken fervor. It is not something one wants to hear, much less so at a reasonable time in the morning as a 'living alarm clock'. A rooster crow before the break of dawn is enough to test the limits of even the most chipper of morning people.

So in spite of all these facts, a rooster crowing was the preferred method used to wake said rooster's owners, who dwelt within the nearby (What do you call a barn and a house that are connected? Aw' fuck it.) house, before the sun had even risen. Much to the personal hell of the newest resident of the farm, on which the house sat, as the rooster happily crowed the morning away.

“Fuck roosters,” mumbled the resident human to no one with a deep, haggard, clearly male voice. The source of the voice shuffled and stirred under the blankets as he lied curled in bed before slowly settling to go back to sleep. Or that was the plan, at least.

Not a minute later, out from the closed door of the male's room came the unmistakable sound of the farm's second-in-command, and the human's unofficial 'handler', walking the hall toward his room. The door swung into the room revealing an orange-coated mare wearing a Stetson with her blonde mane and tail done up in a ponytail of all things standing just outside the threshold of the room. Applejack paused for a moment there, the light from the hall concealing her front in shadow. Applejack sighed in slight annoyance before walking into the room as she spoke.

“Up an' at 'em, Scott. We got us a heap chores that need doin' today,” she stated rather dryly in spite of her southern accent, reaching the side of his bed as she finished.

“What else is new?” asked Scott while making no signs that he was about to move.

“Ha ha.” Applejack rolled her eyes. “Come on now. Time ta' get up.” She drove this point home with a couple slow, firm prods with a forehoof indiscriminately against the pile of blanket and human curled up before her.

“I'm up! I'm up,” Scott said quickly while sitting up with large bags under his blood-shot eyes and a bad case of bed hair¬¬ which was impressive with his short, fade style haircut. The blanket sliding off his chest and bunching around his waist.

Applejack cocked an eyebrow, “Rough night?” she asked.

“Didn't sleep well,” he said as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Nightmares?”

“Nah, just didn't.” He re-adjusted his boxers before pulling his legs out from under the blankets and setting his feet on the cold wood floor. Sitting on the side of the bed with both arms resting on his knees, his forehead rested in the palm of a hand while the fingers idly scratched his scalp.

Applejack quietly took note of all this as she stood there, not fully convinced he was telling the truth. “He hasn't looked this bad since the first few weeks he wound up here,” She thought, a slight grimace playing at her features.

That'd been a helluva day. It had started out like any other for the Apples: got up, did their morning routine, ate breakfast, Applebloom left for school. Pretty much immediately, Applebloom was back inside carrying on about some 'weird thing' outside. When the two older siblings, Big Macintosh and Applejack, went to check it out, they were greeted to the oddest sight either of them had ever seen since the short reign of Discord. There, lying on a bed sheet and under some blankets, was Scott, surrounded by tools, knick-knacks, and other worldly objects the siblings couldn't even begin to guess the uses of.

That was about that moment that Scott decide to wake up and promptly start to freak out. The Apples had figured the 'Thing' was intelligent when he spoke. Language that colorful and creative was a sure sign of intelligence, if a bit questionable. Applejack had, to her credit, nearly got Scott to calm down. However —because Fate likes to get hammered and is a mean drunk —this just happened to have been the one day of the every-other-week that the pegasus Rainbow 'forethought' Dash got up early to use the Apples’ farm as a flight training ground. The ensuing melee that Rainbow Dash kicked off with a flying tackle ended with Applejack hog tying Scott, but not before Scott got in a few good licks. The Apple siblings fared pretty well, but Rainbow Dash had been left with a few bruises, a busted nose, a sprained wing, and a black eye.

Rainbow Dash, for her trouble, learned that adrenaline, training, and 'holy shit I'm going to die!' is a powerful combination for humans.

Thanks in no small part to Big Mac, much of the blame for the fight was leveled at Dash. Much in the same way that if you and your friends found a grey alien at his crashed ship, who would you be the most upset with after a fight with it? The alien or the friend who decided that a flying kick to its face was the best course of action?

In the aftermath, Princess Twilight Sparkle and the other Element Bearers were brought to the farm where, after a lengthy talk with Scott as well as each other, it was decided Scott would stay on the farm and away from the town's prying eyes. The ponies figured with both Big Mac and Applejack watching over him, they would be able to handle Scott if he got violent. Twilight in the meantime would search for a way to send him back. A couple weeks later, Applejack set him to work, both to try and improve his mood as well as make him pull his weight around the farm.

That had been three months ago.

“Well, come on then. Ya wash up an' get sum good food in ya, ya'll feel lots better.” Applejack put forth her best wide-eyed and bushy-tailed morning demeanour, knowing full well that a good mood is infectious.

Not begin a morning person in any stretch of the imagination Scott groaned when he looked at Applejack, beaming at him full of energy with a large smile plastered on her face.

“Oh, come on now, don't be like that,” Applejack said, taking his attitude in stride.

Scott wordlessly grabbed a pair of socks and khaki cargo pants off the floor before quickly slipping them all on. He grabbed a faded blue tee shirt and slung it over his shoulder as he followed the pony into the hall. “What's for breakfast?” he asked, half-asleep while setting the belt that had been left in the pants' waist loops overnight. Applejack turned her head to reply over her shoulder, but Scott interrupted just as she opened her mouth.

“If you say anything with apples, I swear to God, I will beat you to death where you stand,” Scott said in a mocking, hate filled voice. Like it would've been more at home for a villain monologue instead of for something so trivial.

“Well, Ah guess ya better get ta swinging those spindly arms of yers, because we're havin’ apple pancakes an' apple juice.” replied applejack. Noticing his small smile, hers followed suit.

“Apple pancakes and juice? Together? You fiends,” Scott said using his normal voice.

Applejack chuckled, turning back forward. “Well if’n ya don't like it, don't eat it.” She turned in to the washroom, Scott a couple steps behind.

“How 'bout I eat you, motherfucker?” was Scott's retort that stayed in his head.

That's where it stayed for two reasons: one, he was already tired of talking this early in the morning; two— “Good mornin', Scott,” said a little yellow filly as he entered the washroom. —Apple Bloom might be nearby. If you're wondering why 'grossly inappropriate' wasn't one of the reasons, that's because it was part of the reasons in favor list.

After a slip of the tongue around Apple Bloom Scott had agreed to curtail the sexual references, innuendo, dick jokes, and foul language at the request of Applejack, Big Mac, and Granny Smith. It wasn't nearly that civil though. There had been yelling, threats, and references to things stuck in uncomfortable places directed at Scott. Applejack and Big Mac weren't happy either.

Apple Bloom smiled at Scott while standing on a stepping stool, her forehooves on the sink counter's edge. Scott couldn't help returning a good natured smirk to the little pony. “Sup' Bloomer.” Scott ruffled the filly's rose-colored mane, mindful of the large pink bow done up on the back of her head. Apple Bloom giggled at the nickname Scott had given her.

Of everyone that Scott had met in this new world, Apple Bloom liked him the most. That really wasn't all that surprising, though: he was a six-foot-tall being from another universe that had a bunch futuristic gizmos and doodads. What twelve-year-old wouldn't be clamoring for his attention and time.

Stupid ones, probably.

Applejack smiled at the scene as she left the washroom. Her reason for entering in the first place wasn't there. “He must be downstairs already,” she thought as made her way down the stairs. Reaching the foyer at bottom of the stairs, Applejack made for the left door frame to the kitchen.

The kitchen was, though large, a simple affair. A green wood table and chairs sat in the center, big enough to seat all the Apples plus a few more. Counter tops lined the walls to the left with a magically powered range, with an island sitting parallel to the counter's ends. A few shelves on the walls held various foodstuffs. All of it adorned with carvings and images of the family's namesake.

Seated at the table was the goal of Applejack's short quest: Her older brother Big Macintosh, just starting on his breakfast. And what a meal it was: Four pancakes, three eggs, an apple cobbler, toast, large glass of apple juice, and an apple. A pony his size needed quite a bit to keep running.

“Big Mac.” Big Mac turned up to face his sister. “Ah think Scott had a rough go of things last night so Ah was gonna pair 'em with ya fer today, if that was okay with ya.”

“Eeyep.” Big Mac, having sharing all that he was going to say on the subject, went back to eating.

Scott entered the kitchen, his shirt now on. He dragged his feet and moved with a slouch. His left arm was wrapped around Apple Bloom's barrel, holding her at his side, her legs dangling in the air. Apple Bloom's mouth was running in a never-ending torrent of mindless chatter about crusader business, school, a bird, nuclear mechanics, God only knew. The point is, no one was listening to a damn thing coming out that little noise engine to be able to tell you what she said, least of all Scott.

Without uttering a word, Scott shuffled over to the food. Picked up a plate of eggs. Shuffled back to the table. Set down the plate of eggs. Set Apple Bloom down in a chair in front of the plate. Scott noticed Applebloom was looking at him, still talking away. Scott reached down with a single hand and, with the tips of his fingers, slowly turned the noise box's head to face the food, where she promptly started shovelling it in her mouth. Apple Bloom hadn't stopped talking till the first scoop of food hit her mouth. The moment she stopped talking, he let himself smile.

The sun was beginning to barely peek over the horizon as Scott, who had donned his shoes, and the three pony siblings exited the barn to begin the work day. Applejack led the group out about a dozen or so feet before she turned to address the group.

“AB you're goin' with me ta help load the market cart. An' Big Mac, Scott, y'all'll be pickin' the west fields.” Applejack pointed with a forehoof in the various directions as she divided out the work for the day.

Big Mac and Applejack switched back and forth between who worked the farm, or the market. Applejack had worked the market yesterday, so it should have been her working the fields with Scott. He didn't have anything against the mare, it was just that AJ worked a faster pace than her brother did, also Applejack wasn't as strong as Big Mac. This meant Scott wound up doing more work in a shorter time span. That, combined with the fatigue brought on by last night's lack of sleep, meant he really didn't have the energy to work at AJ's pace. Scott was pleased, if a bit surprised, but made no outward show of it.

With nary a word, the two groups split. Females heading for the barn, males heading for a line of two wheeled carts hooked end-to-end, loaded with baskets that had been left out the previous day. Scott checked the carts to make sure they had what they needed, while Big Mac strapped into the lead cart.

As Big Mac strapped in, he fiddled with the harness a bit; one of the belts had twisted, pinching the tar out of the big pony. Satisfied after he managed to get the belt flipped, the work pony had just started to lift a hoof to begin pulling when he felt a sudden weight added to the carts. Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Big Mac discovered the source of the mass increase. There, on the front edge of the cart with a shoe on each of the cart's dual tongues, sat Scott. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“I ride here, or I ride you,” said Scott.

To the outsider, what preceded that statement just looked like a bored out-of-his-mind human and a big crimson colored pony looking at each other. Internally, however, it was a war. A war of wills. Two sides, both willing to fight, to bleed, to die, and to kill, for what they believed— nay! What they knew, to be right. The very fabric of space and time shuddered and quaked, before the epic struggle between an immovable object and an unstoppable force. For what felt like an eternity, the battle raged silently, neither side giving quarter. Till, in a massive shift in power, Macintosh made his master-stroke. Big Macintosh lifted an eyebrow and snorted.

Oh, snap! Shit just got real.

“You suck,” said Scott with a huff while stepping off the cart.

Big Mac just smiled and chuckled in a way that screamed, 'That's right, motherfucker', as the hominid and the equine, walking side by side, started to make their way to the west fields.

Applejack had stopped to watch the whole scene play out when she had heard Scott's comment. She watched her brother and the alien walk off, a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Nah. It'll be fine.” She was trying to wave it off, though not really sounding convinced.

“What'll be fine?” asked Apple Bloom, tilting her head in a look of confusion.

“Huh? Oh, nothin'—” Applejack continued for the barn. “—go get sum apples out of the cellar. If we got any first pick apples left, be sure ta grab those. Shouldn't be too many o’ those left if there are.”

“Sure thing, sis.” Apple Bloom said, before breaking off for the cellar. Her little legs galloping at a fevered pace in that way all foals did that looked adorable.

Applejack didn't notice though, still unable to quell that feeling. It wasn't that she wasn't glad that Big Mac and Scott seemed to get along so well. It was just that every so often, at a rate you wouldn't call common nor would you call uncommon, the two got bored and proceed to act like nine-year-olds. This all usually involved drinking. Mac had once shown Scott a slingshot Mac had made out of rubber medical hoses and used when he was a teenager; in the span of an afternoon, they launched one hundred thirty-eight water balloons, seventy-two rotten apples, three pies, and an orange into the town.

The worst though, for Applejack, were the pranks. Sometimes they were benign, like when they did her tail and mane pony-tails, while she was passed out, so that they hooked together like a chain. Other times, not so much, like when Applejack discovered, after she put it on, they had put pig slop in her hat. You do not mess with Applejack's hat. She had developed, subconsciously, the means to pick up the subtle tells that copious amounts of stupid shit was inbound. And right now her gut was telling her stupid shit was indeed incoming. The cowpony had plenty of reasons to be nervous as she tended to the market cart.

“Hey, Jackie,” called Scott from outside the barn door.

“Gah!” Applejack grabbed an apple as she spun around faster than a tornado. Her hooves set in a wide stance as she stared wide-eyed at Scott, forehoof cocked back ready to rip lose an apple.

“Hey!” in a few quick strides, Scott ran off to the side of the barn door with his arms protecting his face. “The hell?!”

It took a few seconds for AJ's heart to slow down. “Damn it Scott, ya scared me half ta death,” AJ said, pointing out the obvious.

“Yeah, no kidding,” said Scott as he popped out from behind the door frame, his head, neck, shoulder, and arm the only things visible. “I just ran back...” Scott trailed off as he noticed the apple. “Uh, Jackie?” he asked, pointing at the apple still ready to be launched with earth pony strength.

Applejack's gaze went to the apple, where it lingered for a moment before going back to Scott, narrowing her eyes as she did. “What a’ ya doin’ back here?” She asked, suspicion evident in her voice.

Scott shrank back behind the door. His nose, eyes, and a few fingers were the only bits a him she could see. Like a sideways 'Kilroy was here' drawing, minus a hand and the bulbous nose. Scott knew from firsthand experience that the farm pony could throw those damnable apples of hers at tank-killing velocities. It bears repeating that you do not mess with Applejack's hat.

“I just ran back because I forgot earlier to say that if you see Rarity, ask her if she'd mind throwing some clothes together for me today and if that'd be cool with you.” He was far more timid with that request than he would have preferred, but apples hurt. A lot.

“Sure, that's no problem.” Applejack’s stance relaxed, no longer ready to throw the apple. “If'n Ah see her, Ah'll ask her.” Applejack polished the red fruit against her furry chest with a couple good rubs. Holding it back in front of herself, she gazed into the fruit to see her own reflection, a testament to the quality of her family’s namesake. Smiling to herself, she took a sizable bite out of the apple, sweet and crisp as always.

As she chewed though, she noticed Scott was still at the door, having returned to his original position before she had asked why he was there. Scott's brow was slightly furrowed with his jaw clenched while his hand rapped against the door frame. What struck AJ the most though was his eyes. Those gray eyes were locked on the ground just in front of her hooves, focused on something that wasn't there.

She swallowed the bite of apple. “Somethin' else ya needed?” She asked.

“Hunh?” Scott's hand stopped moving as he looked up at AJ as if he just now noticed she was there. Scott blinked. “Oh, well... no I'm good. I'll see you when I see you, Applejack.” He slowly ran his hand back and forth through his hair as he spoke in a shallow voice.

“Sure thing sugar-cube, Ah'll make sure ta ask Rarity before ah head home.” AJ's voice was calm and reassuring, with an underlining tone of sympathy.

AJ knew asking what was on Scott's mind, no matter how much she wanted to, was a lost cause. Scott would just wave it off as nothing or give some vague, non-committal statement. Applejack wasn't alone in this based on what she had gathered from her friends and even Big Mac. They all knew it probably had to do with being ripped from his world with the added stress of being confined to Sweet Apple Acres, but they all felt talking about it would do him some good. Scott clearly disagreed though.

Applejack and Big Mac also knew something that they had not told anyone else— they figured it was a private matter for Scott— and it was that Scott had nightmares. They had found out when Scott took a nap on the couch a couple months back. Applejack found him lying there in a dreadful state, his hand occasionally twitched while covered in a cold-sweat. Scott explained a little that they were just a thing he dealt with every once in a while, though they usually weren't that bad.

Scott nodded wordlessly before turning to head out to the west field. Applejack continued to look for a few moments at the spot the visitor from another world had just left. When she looked way, it was to the apple still in her hoof, the succulent fruit begging to be finished off. The corners of her mouth fell, and with a defeated sigh she tossed the apple off toward the pigs before she turned back to finish setting up the cart.

Let it Begin Act2

If you had ever asked Scott before his arrival in Equestria if he would've liked to be a farmer, his answer would have been a resounding 'no'. If you asked that question again after his time in Equestria his answer would be a hate-filled, punch to your face. Farming didn't appeal to Scott when it involved huge-ass machines that could pull the Moon out of orbit or rolling processing plants the size of a house that harvested, shucked, and ground up the chaff of an entire field in an afternoon. Farming in the technological ass-backward hell of Equestria was adding injury to insult.

You would never guess, but there were things like tractors, heavy equipment, tanks, and motorized transport in Equestria. The catch was that everything was powered one of two ways: steam engine or magic motor. For instance a steam-powered tractor required metal construction that threw the price through the roof while also being large, cumbersome monstrosities usually about the size of a train. Magic motors could be cheap, but if they were, they lacked the power to be useful on a farm. Magic motors also were notoriously brittle, and you needed a unicorn who knew the recharge spell, which would be needed every one or two hours. Basically, only a company or governments could make use of magic motors beyond a novelty use, like a parade float.

This had all been explained to Scott, but it did little to mitigate his irritation, like being told why you don't have any water to drink while in a desert. Logically you understand, though that doesn't make you any less pissed you can't have water. What Scott wouldn't do for a simple lawn tractor.

“The first thing I'm doing when I get home is hugging a goddamn internal combustion engine,” Scott mused. Sweat dropped from his nose as he pulled four two-wheeled carts, full of apples. The straps were tied up around Scott's waist. He glanced to the right at Big McIntosh when he noticed something off about the draft pony's walk.

“Are- Are you prancing?” asked Scott in disbelief.

“Eeeenope,” Big Mac said. Sure enough, he was prancing.

Scott looked behind the pony to see eight fully loaded carts, to which he groaned while looking back ahead. “I hate you so much right now.” Scott huffed and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow before it made the journey to the corner of his eye.. “I hope these trees all get cancer.”

“Hey now, watch what ya say. Words have power ya know,” said Mac, as he brought his prancing to a halt.

“You know what else has power? A diesel engine,” Scott said without missing a beat. “How the hell y'all figured out video games and skyscrapers but not internal combustion is just beyond me.”

“If'n ya did more honest work without all them fancy machines, ya'd have an easier time of this,” Mac said in his usual impassive tone.

In the ultimate show of maturity, Scott rattled off a mocking rendition of Big Mac's statement to just the sounds of nugh's and nee's in a disgusted tone. “That's what you sound like.”

Big Mac just chuckled. Verbal banter with Scott reminded Big Mac of a navy captain from a hundred or so years ago he had read about once. The captain’s ship lost a fierce battle with an enemy vessel. As the ship began to sink the enemy saluted, to which the captain returned the pony equivalent of the middle finger. Scott was just like that: he may lose the battle, but he always squeezed in one last 'fuck you' before the end.

The two emerged from the tree line to see the barn just a football field away. Scott was elated as he sighed in relief, while Big Mac was indifferent as always. Scott may have been in pretty decent shape when he arrived, however farm work is still farm work, and someone who is in shape from working out is just not going to hold a candle to someone who has done manual labor since being a foul.

After covering the distance to the barn, the two pulled their carts to the side of the barn, where they began to slip out of the straps of the carts. Finally free from the accursed carts, Scott heaved a sigh of relief. “So what're we doing after lunch?” asked Scott as he stood with arms crossed, waiting for the pony to un-strap himself. “Hands rule,” he mused.

“Well—” Mac paused to think for a moment. “—we got these here apple carts ta sort for storage,” said Big Mac while moving to Scott, having exited the straps.

“Most of these are probably cookin' apples,” Mac muttered. Mac tapped his chin in thought as he gazed at the ground with a furrowed brow; he couldn't help feel he was forgetting something.

"The cows." If the farmer had fingers, he would have snapped them. Instead he settled for a clop when he smacked his hoof on the ground. "We gotta take a new round bale of hay in ta them."

Scott looked over at the cows as they both started for the kitchen; the cows were dumbly chewing their cuds with blank, soulless eyes. Scott smiled with a silent laugh as a memory shot to the surface of his mind.

“Care ta share?” Big McIntosh raised a brow as he asked.

“Well I just remembered. The first few weeks I got here I thought the cows you guys have could talk and think,” Scott said. When Scott turned from the cows to look at Mac though, his smile faded.

The pony looked at Scott with narrow-eyed confusion and disbelief, as if Scott had just took flight by squatting and farting off into the sky.

“What?” asked Scott as if he had no idea what was going on. “Don't look at me like that. Your world is full of things that don't talk in my world.”

Big Mac stayed silent for a moment. “So, ya thought that the cows that we keep pinned up, outside, and herded around by bumping, shoving, chasin' with the dog, and ropin' just like an animal. Were intelligent like you 'n me?” Mac asked with a raised brow. Mac spoke slowly, which is really saying something, to make sure his point was driven home.

“Well, when you put it that way...” Scott trailed off as he rubbed the back of his head.

“So ya just thought we owned slaves or sumthing?” asked Mac with a furrowed brow.

“Okay, you made your point. Don't get your panties in a twist, yesh. Sorry I said anything.” Scott grumbled.

“Ya' figured it out though, right?” asked Mac with mock concern, as though he were speaking to a small child.

“Yes. I figured it out.”

“Ah'd just be glad ya didn't say that around AJ. Could ya imagine how awful it'd be if AJ ever knew ya thought that?” he asked with a smirk, and a knowing look.

“Why, yes, Big Mac, that would be awful. The loss of a brother is never pleasant,” Scott said.

Entering the kitchen Big Mac chuckled at another of the human's dime-a-dozen, empty threats. The Apples had figured out fairly quickly that, short of life or death situations, Scott was harmless, and his empty threats were nothing more than playful banter.

Big Mac and Scott sat down at the kitchen table, where Granny Smith had already laid out their meals on opposite sides of the table. Big Macintosh had peas, carrots, hayfries, mashed potatoes, and a salad. Scott had a couple PB&J's and mashed potatoes. Scott's food options in this world were few. The griffins ate meat, so it was possible to get some, it simply cost more than the Apples could afford.

Scott sat looking at his meal with an unreadable face, before he took a noticeable breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly exhaled.

“What's the matter, good lookin'?” asked Granny Smith. She carried, balanced on her back, a tray with a couple glasses of apple juice. “Somethin’s gotcha britches in a bunch?”

Scott didn't respond to the elderly mare's question. Instead he simply picked up a sandwich and took a bite.

Leaning forward, Granny Smith scrutinized him with narrowed eyes before leaning back slightly with a knowing grin spread across her muzzle.

“It's a mare izn't?” she asked.

Scott furrowed his brow, then snapped his head to face the elderly mare. “Wait, what? No. What?” he asked, trying desperately to restart his brain. “No, I'm just tired of eating the same damn thing. The hell are you talking about, old woman?”

“You're not?” she asked. “Well hot diggity, Ah still got a chance.”

“What,” Scott said. Big Mac froze med-chew as well to stare at her.

“What nothin'. Ah' may be gettin' on in years, but Ah'm still a mare, and mares got's needs.” Granny stated matter of factly, as way of explaining. “Ah may not be as easy on the eyes as sum o' those young fillies bouncing around, but Ah gots somthin' they don't: experience.” She finished off with a wink at Scott.

“Uh. Granny?” Big Mac hesitantly broached the conversation.

Shooting Mac a glare, she waved a hoof in a shooing motion as she said, “Hush up young'n, your granny's trying ta score.”

Twilight Sparkle and Rarity strolled through the, relatively speaking, hustle and bustle of the Ponyville market. Farmers from the surrounding countryside and their carts dotted the thoroughfare, among the more permanent colorful medieval tents and stands. Ponies, young and old, milled about per-viewing wears and chatting with friends. The whole thing had a renaissance fair feel to it. Albeit a boring one, what with the depressing lack of flagons of mead, greasy chicken, and drunk community-theatre rejects who refuse to break character.

“Aw, gross.”

“Something the matter, Twilight?” Rarity asked over the shoulder.

“Oh, somepony threw gum on the ground and I just stepped in it,” Twilight said. She looked at one of her hind hooves.

Rarity grimaced at her friend's misfortune. While she began to look around for a stick to remove the offending piece of foodstuff, she was distracted by a familiar voice calling their names.

“Rarity! Twilight!” Applejack waved the two over from behind her market cart a good hundred feet away. A pony stood in line while another was waited on by AJ, the last of the lunch hour rush.

Abandoning Twilight to her sticky fate, Rarity made her way over to AJ's fruit stand. The glamorous pony didn't so much walk the distance as glide the distance. Daintily trotting at just the right rhythm to cause her purple styled mane and tail to bounce just so. Swaying her hips just enough be alluring but not seductive. Her head held just high enough to give her an air of sophistication without looking snobby. What really set it off was that it was all obviously so natural, something that she didn't have to try at to obtain. It reminded all stallions that this was an extremely high maintenance mare. A warning that was not unfounded.

Rarity reached Applejack just as the farmer was in the middle of the last pony's sale. As Rarity approached, the mare buying AJ's produce raised her forehoof to Rarity's face.

“In a minute,” said Bon Bon, her statement clipped and dry as the cream-colored earth pony mare continued to grace Applejack with an apathetic stare.

“I beg your pardon,” said Rarity. She raised a forehoof in defence and edged back at the mare's abruptness.

“These apples aren't three bit quality; I'll give you two bits an apple.” Bon Bon continued to haggle while ignoring Rarity. Rarity was about to speak up when she noticed Applejack's strained smile.

“Bon Bon, Ah can't do it, Ah said. Ah already let ya bet me down on the pie an' drinks,” she said, the obvious end of Applejack's patience nearing. Bon Bon was about to counter just as Twilight arrived.

“Applejack did yo-” was as far as the Twilight got.

“Ugh! Rude much?” Twilight mirrored Rarity at Bon Bon's sudden outburst. “I'm just trying to get some damn food without a bunch of ponies yammering on about whatever,” Bon Bon spat as she glared daggers at the newcomers. Sensing that whatever haggling momentum she'd built had been lost, Bon Bon placed six bits on the cart with a smack. Bon Bon grabbed the two apples and stomped off, leaving the three friends to stare after her in silence as she left.

“Who was that?” asked Twilight.

“Bon Bon,” said Rarity.

“Lyra's friend?” asked Twilight with disbelief. “Is she always like that?”

“If ya mean a first-class bitch. Then, yeah,” said Applejack.

“I just can't understand what Berry Punch sees in her,” said Rarity, with a slow shake of her head.

“I didn't know Berry had a special-somepony,” said Twilight.

Applejack could see where this conversion was heading. With the subtlety of a demolition team, she made a point to change the subject. She pointed out the other two's saddlebags, and asked, “Whatch' y'all got there?” .

“Oh, just some things for tonight.” with a glow of her horn, Twilight levitated out a couple bottles of tequila.

“I simply can't believe I let you talk me into getting us— ugh, tequila— over a nice merlot,” said Rarity, scrunching her muzzle in distaste as she whined out the name of the south-western drink.

“I like it,” Twilight said, a tad defensive.

“Who'da thought our little Twi was a tequila girl,” said Applejack as she playfully nudged Twilight with an elbow. Rarity held a hoof in front of her muzzle as she chuckled.

With a sigh, Twilight fixed Applejack with a flat look. “Was there something you needed, Applejack?”

“Well, it's not so much me as our guest. Wanted me ta ask ya, Rarity, if'n it'd be alright ta stop by later for sum new clothes,” she said. At the mention of Scott, the group's cheerful demeanour vanished like a puff of smoke.

“Oh,” Twilight said. While a simple response, the meaning behind it was anything but. They all were trying to keep Scott's arrival quiet for as long as possible. That left Twilight Sparkle as the only one who could possibly return him home. That responsibility weighed heavily on the natural worry-wart's mind.

“How's the dear doing?” asked Rarity. Rarity was much like the rest of her friends when it came to Scott while they were sympathetic, they just weren't that involved. She didn't have the Apple's constant contact or the burden of responsibility that Twilight had.

Applejack shrugged. “Ya know how he is, just doesn't tell anypony wha's goin' on in that noggin' o' his,” she said. Applejack looked down and pawed at the ground. “How close do ya think ya are ta gettin' 'em home, Twi?”

“Well, I'm still working on tracking down where he is from,” said Twilight. Rarity perked her ears in Twilight's direction.

“Don't worry, Twilight, I'm sure you'll figure it out.” Rarity's attitude pulled an one-hundred-and-eighty-degree spin as she graced Twilight with a reassuring smile and wrapped a foreleg over her shoulder. “No, Applejack, I don't mind at all. When would you like to stop over?”

Applejack furrowed her brow and she ran through a mental list of things left to do and an approximation of their time. Twilight was sorely tempted to launch into a lecture on the virtues of lists and why they were important as they waited. “Four o'clock sound alright?”

“That sounds fine,” said Rarity. Rarity regarded Twilight with a warm smile as she turned to face her. “Twilight, you should swing by as well, seeing some friendly faces would do Scott some good I imagine.”

“I suppose... There is something I read about the other day I'd like to try,” said Twilight, her confidence entering with each word.

“So it's set then. Applejack, tell him we look forward to seeing him at four o'clock.” With that, Rarity ushered Twilight off, leaving Applejack to continue manning her market cart.

As Applejack waved goodbye, she couldn't help but feel that Rarity had hurried Twilight and herself off. “Aw, well. Probably not important.” She shrugged and gather up Bon Bon's bits.

“Now then what didn't you want to say to Applejack about our tall visitor, hmm?” asked Rarity when she was sure they were out of ear shot; ever the gossip, she just couldn't resist.

Taken aback, Twilight snapped her gaze to Rarity.

Rarity simply smirked and playfully rolled her eyes at her friend's reaction. “Twilight, you don't spend as much time around high society as me without being able to spot a pony who's holding something back.” Rarity answered the unasked question with no small hint of pride. Twilight sighed in defeat. She stared forlornly at the ground passing beneath her hooves while she walked, seconds ticking by.

“I think Scott is telling the truth about where he's from,” Twilight said, her words heavy.

Rarity came to an absolute stand still, barely able to prevent her mouth from gaping in shock—that would be most unladylike. In the silence that preceded you could have heard a pin drop on carpet. “Darling, you don't mean to tell me this whole time...”

“Oh, come on, Rarity.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “What do you think was more likely: That Scott got here from another dimension through some unknown method by accident, or that he got here by some undiscovered-race-on-Equus's teleportation spell?” she asked. She was not going to feel silly for having looked at all this logically.

“It’s just, well... none of us have ever seen anything that looks like... him.”

“Just because no pony has ever seen his kind doesn't mean a whole lot. Just last month a kingdom of elks was discovered on the west continent isles. No pony has ever seen them before,” she said. “Besides, he shows up from a different plane of existence and just happens to speak perfect equus?”

“I suppose I can see your point.” Rarity raised a hoof to her chin as she stared pensively at the ground. “But, darling, why would it matter if you believe him now? I mean, it’s not like you spent this whole time, just trying to prove he’s from here.” Twilight wouldn't meet Rarity’s eyes. “Right?”

“Well….” Twilight rubbed the back of her head.

“Twilight!”

“It’s not my fault! If he is telling the truth!” Twilight sighed “He can't get home. It’s impossible.”

“But… surely Princess Cel-”

“The Princesses aren't all-powerful or all-knowing, Rarity. The field of study needed to even think about getting him home doesn't even exist. There are only a couple theories as to the possibilities of other dimensions at best, and absolutely zero on dimensional travel.”

The two stood lost in their own thoughts, not sure what to say next. Rarity could see now why Twilight held back this information from Applejack; she would never have been able to keep this from Scott. Meanwhile, Twilight didn't relish the chance to tell him he was well and truly boned. The time in silence between the two stretched well into the 'uncomfortable' amount.

“When are you going to tell him?” asked Rarity quietly.

“I wasn't lying about what I told AJ. A new mind scan spell I read about and a blood sample should finally put to rest whether he is from here... or not.”

Rarity simply nodded as a sign of understanding. The two started off for Twilight's house, though with less pep than before. As they rounded a street corner, the home came into view. Being the home of the newest princess, as well as the town library made into a living tree, it was the closest thing to a landmark the little town had.

“Twilight?” airily asked Rarity. Her eyes focused on some distant point, clearly lost in thought. Twilight tuned to listen to her friend.

“I just had a thought.”

“What's that?”

“Do you think Scott and Applejack have been...” she rolled her forehoof as she searched for a more delicate word than 'fucking,' “together?”

Twilight nearly fell on her face. “Oh my god, Rarity, are you serious right now? Yes, I'm sure.”

“What? I think it'd be romantic: An alien visitor stranded on a foreign world who's taught how to feel and love by the care and simple ways of a farm mare,” said Rarity. She slowed her pace and began to stare dreamily off into the distance.

“That's it. I'm not lending you any more of those trashy sci-fi romance novels. They're ruining your mind,” said Twilight dryly. Rarity humphed in response and raised her nose to the air. Having reached the tree home, Twilight moved to the front door.

“No reason to be catty about it,” said Rarity. Coming to a stop, Twilight winced at the comment.

“I'm sorry, Rarity, it's just I have a lot on my mind right now, and worrying about who's fucking whom isn't something I can care about right now,” she said. Twilight's friends had learned over the years that her foul mouth was a clear sign that she was over-stressed or over-thinking. Rarity opened her mouth to say something, but Twilight was on a roll. “I've got six minor laws the Princesses want me to go over. Princess Luna asked me to join during her Night Court to help me learn the ropes. The Mayor has been leaning more and more on me to see about increasing the town's budget,” she said. The odd strand of Twilight's mane was beginning to stick out here and there and she was rambling at a quicker and quicker pace. Rarity knew she needed to head this off before her friend got too carried away.

“Twilight, I-”

“Then there's Scott and the fucking mess that's undoubtedly going to turn into. What's he going to say when he finds out he isn't going home?”

“I don't kn-”

“Is he going to get violent?”

“I'm sure he w-”

“You saw what he did to Rainbow Dash!” exclaimed Twilight. She was in full on panic mode; she stood on her hindhooves and smooshed Rarity's cheeks between both her hooves, her face a mere inch from Rarity's.

Rarity considered attempting a reply, though in the end she settled for simply hanging limply in Twilight's hooves with a scowl.

“What about Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked. She suddenly released Rarity, catching her completely off-guard. Rarity cried out a small 'eep' before her face greeted the ground with a thud. “If she finds out I've been keeping an alien secret—” Twilight gasped. “—she might say I'm not ready to be a princess! What if she takes my wings?!”

Turning her head up, Rarity fully intended to give the panicking princess a piece of her mind. However, at the sight of Twilight's crazy-eyes and the raggedy mess of her mane and tail, Rarity shrank back into herself like a little foal.

“Well she can't have them. They're mine I tell you, mine!” exclaimed Twilight, clutching one of her wings.

The two remanded frozen in place when Rarity began to cautiously look side to side, as the realization that this had all taken place in front of Twilight's home started to take root. Sure enough, standing off to the sides, a few ponies were focused on the little scene unfolding before them. Some obviously were just looking for a chance to be the forebears of the latest gossip with eager, almost hungry, eyes as they leaned forward. Others clearly remembered certain past events involving a certain purple unicorn who was now an alicorn. Those ponies looked ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

“Twilight, darling. Remember what Cadance taught you?” asked Rarity as she tentatively stood to address Twilight.

A couple rapid blinks and Twilight lost the manic look in her eyes. She brought a forehoof to her chest, took a deep breath, then swept her forehoof out and exhaled. Looking noticeably calmer, Twilight smiled meekly at Rarity. The gossip ponies simply frowned at the loss of juicy substance, while the panic ponies sighed in relief before they all meandered away to continue whatever they had been doing in the first place.

“Relax, darling, I'm sure it'll all work out. Scott doesn't seem the kind to hold a grudge if my judge of character is anything to go by,” said Rarity calmly. Twilight simply nodded with a small smile, still embarrassed at having let herself get worked up again.

“Let's go inside. Some nice soothing tea will help calm those nerves,” said Rarity, returning to her old self. She ushered Twilight inside the tree home. The two walked to the kitchen where Twilight placed the tequila bottles in a cupboard, while Rarity started making ice tea.

With the tea ready, Rarity and Twilight sat down at the table with their drinks, to begin the time honored tradition among women across the multiverse: mindless-chit-chat. They talked of pop culture, the weather schedule, fashion, and other inane subjects as they drained their glasses.

Let it Begin Act3

Humming to herself, Applejack made her way up the path to the family barn with the near-empty market cart in tow and jingling saddle bags filled with new bits. It had been a pretty good day at the market for Applejack, with most of the pastries being sold off, along with half the apples.

Applejack noticed a distinct lack of Big Mac and Scott as she pulled the cart into the barn. After unhitching herself and setting down her saddlebags, she exited the barn to see if she had missed them on the way in. Not spotting them outside, she walked into the house.

“Big Mac! Scott! Ya in here!?” called out Applejack from in the doorway. Big Mac cleared his throat in response. Applejack looked to her immediate left to see Big Mac sitting on the couch scowling back while he rubbed his ear with a hoof. Applejack laughed nervously. “Oops, sorry big brother,” she said. “Ya know where Scott is?”

“Eeyup,” said Big Mac.

Applejack stared back happily while he returned to the book he had been reading. As time dragged on, Applejack’s happy look slowly deflated to one of awkwardness. “So, he’s where? Exactly?”

Without looking up from the book, Mac swept a hoof in a broad generalization of the house, and the barn, and the orchard.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Eeyup,” he said. While he was able to use the book to hide his smug smile, the book did nothing to hide the smugness in his voice. Applejack scowled back at him as she walked further into the house to look for Scott.

Meanwhile, Scott leaned back in the wooden tub with his arms resting on the edges. The warm water soaked to his bones as soap suds floated around on the water like tiny icebergs in the ocean. He lazily moved his legs, never breaking the surface, to shift underwater currents to watch the suds move about in response. Sinking a little lower, he let his arms fall into the water with a splash. As he looked to the ceiling to rest his head on the edge of the tub, he closed his eyes and sighed in contentment.

Scott had few, if any, luxuries in this world; most of the things that he had arrived with were near useless in Equestria, like the laptop that couldn't be charged. So bath time was about as close to a luxury as he got, and that made it his time. A knock at the door snapped him from his reprieve.

“Scott?” asked Applejack.

“Yo.”

“Ya mind if Ah come in?”

“I'm in the tub. But yeah, it's fine,” Scott said, not moving.

Scott's German grandfather, along with his prior military service— that the ponies didn't know about— had wrecked his sense of modesty. He wasn't about to water gardens while going full-commando like Granddad, and he still preferred privacy most of the time. Nevertheless though, Scott gave as few fucks as possible in regards to how clothed he was when ponies were around, unless it was Applebloom. If Applejack wanted to try to look at his junk through dirty water with soap and suds in it, she could knock herself out.

Applejack had learned that rather than try to understand the do's-and-don’ts of human etiquette, it was is easier to just knock every time. Scott may have been fairly open by American standards, but by Equus standards he was a bit of a prude.

The door opened halfway and Applejack slipped into the room, closing it behind herself. Walking over, she stopped at Scott's side just within arms’ reach of the tub. “Ya enjoyin' yerself there?”

“Just listening to nothing.”

“Wha' cha mean?”

“Well.” Opening his eyes, Scott rose up enough that his shoulders were level with his arms as they returned to the edge of the tub. “Back home there's always some kind of background noise. Cooling fans for electronics, air conditioning, little electric motors.”

“Well tha' sounds plum awful.”

Scott just waved it off. “You don't really notice it till it's gone, like during a power outage. I was just enjoying the quiet in here.”

“Scott. It's like this everywhere,” Applejack said with a flat look.

“Yeah, and it kind of unnerves me too when I'm just sitting around the house doing nothing. This is one of the only times it really doesn't,” Scott said. He looked forward, away from AJ, for a few seconds before continuing. “It’s weird, you think after three months I'd be used to it by now.” Scott gave a single humorless laugh. “Funny how that works.”

Scott felt a hoof pat his shoulder before resting there. Scott looked out the corner of his eye to see Applejack looking back with concern and a sympathetic smile. “Aw, don't worry about me, cowgirl,” Scott said, reaching across his chest to pat the hoof on his shoulder, then giving it a firm squeeze. “I'm a pretty tough bastard. I'll be fine.”

His actions said more to AJ than his words did, though. So with a small nod, Applejack pulled her hoof back.

Scott fidgeted a bit, having become self conscious, before turning to face Applejack. “Now why'd you come in here? Or did you just want to check out my dee and bee's?” Scott asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Scott thought Twilight was the queen of the deadpan face; Applejack, however, may have just claimed the crown with the look she was giving him. “I was gonna ask you if you want to go to Rare's, but I'll tell her yer busy fiddlin' yerself.  I'm sure she'll understand,” said Applejack in a tone to match her face.

Scott snickered. “She said it was okay to stop over?”

“Nah, Ah thought Ah'd pull ya past her place so ya could just imagine what it'd be like if she did,” Applejack said.

Scott laughed heartily. “Smart-ass,” he said. He scooped a mound of soap bubbles and threw— as good as you can throw bubbles— them at Applejack, who laughed while blocking with a hoof.

“Scott, that right there is the biggest case of 'pot calling the kettle black' Ah ever did hear,” Applejack said while shaking the bubbles off her hoof.

“Yeah yeah, enough of your racist pots. Get out so I can get ready,” Scott said, making a shooing motion with his hand.

Applejack rolled her eyes as she left the bathroom.

Scott reached down beneath the water to remove the drain plug and empty the tub. As the water drained, Scott dried off what he could while standing in the water before stepping out to finish the rest. He started fishing clothes out of one of the piles of clothes on the floor, putting them on as he went.

There were two piles of clothes on the floor. One was the clothes he had been wearing all day, the cargo pants, tee-shirt, boxers, socks, and shoes, the only set of clothes from his world. He had never been so happy to have passed out fully clothed in his life, especially when it came to the shoes. The others Scott hated with a fiery passion. Rarity had made them in a rush without Scott's input and with various pieces of fabric she had lying around, so they were meant to be temporary. At the time, she had been slammed with orders and backorders. The end result was a lot of different colors in a patchwork design that looked like they came out of an 80s ballroom party.

Fully dressed in the clothes from Rarity, Scott scooped up the smelly clothes and walked to his room, where he stuffed them, minus the shoes, into a pillow case. Setting the shoes off to the side of the room, Scott slung the impromptu bag over his shoulder and left the room barefoot. Without concrete, pavement, and gravel areas, Scott found he really didn't need shoes all that much; so he saved his shoes as much as possible by not wearing them.

Upon exiting the house, Scott spied Applejack hitched up to a four-wheeled wagon with a tarp covering the back half. As Scott walked over, he threw the bag toward the wagon with an underhand swing. The bag soared through the air to come up a few feet short of the wagon. Applejack gave Scott a knowing grin. “Shut up,” he said while picking up the bag.

“Ah didn't say nothin',” Applejack replied innocently while Scott climbed into the wagon.

Scott sat in the wagon against a front corner with his back to the side. With Scott settled, AJ started pulling the wagon along. The minutes ticked by as they went, Scott watched the scenery slowly drift by at Applejack's walking pace.

The only sounds were birds chirping their little melodies as they flew by, along with the wagon as it rattled over bumps and the creak of wooden wheels rolling along on the dirt path. Scott was a tad bored and would remain that way for the next half-hour or so trip to Ponyville.

He looked over at Applejack and considered trying to strike up a conversation. “Meh, better to just leave her be. Puts up with me enough as is.” With that thought, he returned to watching the scenery roll by, while he allowed his mind to wander.

When Applejack spied Ponyville up ahead, she looked back to make sure Scott was covered. What she saw instead was that he was looking off to the side, lost in his own little world.

“Hey, Scott,” Applejack said. When Scott glanced over to her, she jerked her head forward. He looked ahead to see Ponyville a pair of football fields away.

Scott reached for the loose end of the tarp at the back and pulled it over as he ducked down. A couple seconds of adjustment and the tarp covered the whole top of the wagon.

Scott reached behind himself to grab an apple out of one of the baskets of them that were in the back of the wagon, used as cover in case someone wondered what Applejack was pulling. Gradually the sounds of a small town became more pronounced. The clop of the ponies’ hooves against the ground, the sounds of conversation, foals laughing as they scampered by. All of it was the soundtrack to Scott's world of darkness as the wagon bumped along.

Eventually, Scott felt the wagon come to a stop just after he finished the apple. Tossing the core into a corner, Scott waited for the all-clear signal. Applejack unhitched herself from the wagon behind Rarity's boutique. She scanned the area in a 'totally not suspicious at all' manner, before walking over to Rarity's backdoor. Knocking on the door, she waited while continuing to survey the area. Rarity opened the door without greeting or fanfare, as she too glanced around while stepping outside. Applejack returned to the wagon and knocked on the side that faced the house three times, to which Scott returned in kind. With that, AJ pulled back the tarp while Scott, with the pillowcase, smoothly hopped over the side then jogged into the house, followed by AJ and Rarity walking in.

“Darlings, so good of you to stop by,” Rarity said, after closing the door.

“Hey, Rarity,” said Scott. Glancing around, he took in the fairly spartan kitchen: teal and blue made up the colors, round table for four, standard kitchen appliances. Scott had been to Rarity's only once nearly three months ago, and he hadn't ventured beyond the storefront. Scott half-expected the kitchen to be as gaudy as what he had seen in the storefront.

“Howdy, Rarity,” greeted Applejack. “Where's Twilight?”

“I'm in here!” Twilight called out from the front room.

“Sprinkler, that you in there?” Scott asked happily. Twilight poked her head around the door to level a withering glare at Scott who returned a wide, toothy grin.

“Don't call me Sprinkler,” said Twilight.

“Whatever you say, Highlight Spackle,” he said with a shrug.

Twilight's horn enveloped in a purple glow as she stepped into the doorway. From out behind the doorway a large, obviously heavy tome with a clasp floated in front herself. She began to menacingly toss the ancient-looking tome into the air, the glow around the book cutting out as it spun through the air, only to reappear around it on the descent.

Rarity stood off to the side, shifting her weight side to side while looking back and forth between the two. “Now now, you two,” she said. “Twilight what say we put the book down, hmm?” Rarity didn't care if Twilight started beating Scott silly with ancient knowledge. What she did care about was Twilight chasing him throughout her house while swinging a book that looked like it could be used in demolition work.

Scott the whole time had been intently watching the book. “You wouldn’t hit me would you, Spackle?” he asked.

Twilight stopped tossing the book as she took a step forward.

“Twilight Sparkle! Your name is Twilight Sparkle!” he exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around his head. Twilight stopped her advance before giving a curt nod and returning behind the doorway with the book following.

Scott and Rarity visibly relaxed with an exhale. From behind himself, Scott heard the unmistakable sound of someone trying not to laugh.

“Wow,” said Applejack. “Ah can't wait ta tell Big Mac what a pussy ya are.”

Scott half turned to glare at Applejack. “Keep laughing. See how long you live.”

“I'm guessing she'll live a long time given what I’ve just seen,” said Rarity. While Scott looked at her in surprise, Applejack gave up on trying to contain her laughter.

“So these clothes...” he said, walking toward the front room with the tattered remains of his ego.

Applejack and Twilight were playing cards to pass the time, while Scott stood on a raised platform in his boxers trying his hardest to stand still as Rarity worked. She walked clockwise and counter-clockwise around the platform. A cloth measuring tape levitated through the air  in a blue glow to match the one around her horn. Rarity the whole while scribbled in a little notebook as she went.

“You've been at this for a half-hour. How much longer is this going to take?” he asked. It had really only been fifteen at most.

“I just wanted to make sure I got your measurements just right. After all, your physique is fairly unique,” said Rarity. She looked over her notebook with the odd flip of a page here and there. Scott sighed. “Well... yes I should be able to make do with this. You can step down now.”

“Oh, thank you, Jesus,” he said, as he stepped off the platform. He walked over to his clothes to put them on. After putting his pants on, Scott walked over to where Applejack and Twilight were playing as he slipped his shirt on. Standing behind Twilight, he looked over her shoulder at her cards. “Oooh, full house, nice.”

“Ah fold,” Applejack said.

Twilight's cards tumbled to the table when the magical grip holding them vanished with a pop. She turned to glare at the smug-looking human behind her. Scott patted Twilight on the head a few times till, in a burst of motion, Twilight made several swipes over her head in the same manner one would to chase off a fly. Both Scott and Applejack chuckled.

“Scott I've got some designs I'd like you to take a look at, if you would,” said Rarity. Walking up to Scott, she levitated a few drawings to him. Scott took them from her as he sat down at the table with AJ and Twilight.

“Deal me in?” he asked.

Twilight smiled back with a nod and began to shuffle the cards. While Twilight dealt, he shuffled through the handful of drawings. Most looked like tuxes or something you would go to the clubs in: multiple colors in creative patterns and stitching. A couple really stuck out: one looked like it was out of a Shakespearean play, and another reminded him of an over-the-top anime cos-play costume, complete with goggles. The designs were less than to his liking.

With a grimace, he turned to Rarity, who had been waiting patiently. “Rarity, these ain't gonna work. Take a look in that pillow case over there,” he said while pointing off to the side.

Rarity raised an eyebrow before turning to the pillow case crumpled up on the floor. Reaching out with her magic, she levitated it over to herself, where she dumped the contents out and floating each garment up off the floor. She inspected with a careful eye what she was about to spend a substantial amount of time making. “Durable material, crude but rugged seams, simple though incredibly uniform stitching,” she thought. “It’s just so… unsophisticated and plain.”

“That's what I want,” said Scott, as he rearranged his cards.

“What about my designs? I worked really hard on those,” Rarity whined, giving her best pout and puppy-eyes. She really did not want to spend her time making something so utilitarian.

Scott turned his head slightly to look at her out of the corner of his eye with indifference before returning to the card game. “I'm sure there are some guys from my world that would love a snazzy suit or colorful designer shirts. But that kind of guy, I am not. So no.”

“Don’t you want to look nice?” she pleaded. “What if you want to go out on the town?” The three card players all slowly turned to glare at Rarity with incredulous looks.

“What?” asked Rarity.

“Okay, ignoring the glaring problem with that question,” he groaned while Twilight and Applejack returned to their cards. “Those clothes right there are what I wear on a night on the town.”

“But–”

“Also I'm working on a farm, so I need practical, not fancy.”

“He's gotta point, Rares,” Applejack said without looking up from her cards.

“An entire fashion-minded race that wears clothes all the time, and I get their Applejack,” Rarity 'humphed' with an upturn of her nose. “Very well. Do you have any preference in colors?”

“Pants should be tan or grey. The boxers? I don't really care. Shirts? Autumn colors. Oh, and some work gloves would be nice,” Scott said while making a show of his hands.

“Well, at least it shouldn't take long. You might as well stay till I finish.”

“That's up to AJ, really.”

“Ah don't mind. Besides, didn't ya have sum things ya wanted ta try fer gettin' Scott here home, Twilight?” AJ asked. Her smile grew when Scott immediately perked up with a snap of his head in her direction. Rarity meanwhile had begun her work.

“Yeah?” he turned to Twilight with a big grin. “What'd you got for me, Sparkles?”

“Well, I wanted to take a blood sample and try this brain scan spell I just read about,” said Twilight. Scott's look of joy turned to one of confusion.

“How is a fucking blood sample supposed to help me get home?” he thought, but decided against voicing that question because the brain scan was setting off way more alarms. “Brain scan spell?”

“It'll run through your memories and should be able to show us any memories you might have forgotten or can't remember during whatever it was that brought you here,” she said.

“A mind-reading spell.” Scott thought. “No.”

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

“You are not using magic on my mind. No,” he said.

“Why not?” she asked with a frown.

“I’ve always had a fear of magic. At home it was irrational. Here, it's completely rational,” he said jokingly. He was completely unaware that Twilight had taking his previous wording personal.

“No, it's still irrational.”

“Your face is irrational.”

“That doesn't make any sense.”

“Like I'm going to listen about what makes sense from someone with an irrational face,” he said, oblivious to the fact he was skating on thin ice.

“Applejack,” she said. She nearly growled the name out as she faced Applejack with a scowl and pointed a hoof at Scott.

Applejack had tuned out the moment Twilight started explaining the spell. Rarity meanwhile had become absorbed in her work. As a result, neither were picking up on Twilight's deteriorating mood.

“Scott, stop bein' an ass,” Applejack said in a disinterested tone. Applejack's indifference was not helping Twilight's mood.

“You can tell me what to do when you start putting out,” he said.

Applejack calmly raised an eyebrow at Scott. “Tell ya what. Ah'll start puttin' out when ya git sumthin' between yer legs worth gettin' excited about,” Applejack said. Scott barked out a laugh while Twilight continued to glower.

“Okay two points. One, that was a good one.” he said while pointing a finger at AJ. Rolling his wrist, he switched to pointing at Twilight with his thumb. “And two, she started it.”

“You know what? Fuck you!” Twilight yelled. She jumped to her hooves, her wings shot out in an aggressive display. Everyone else leaned back with wide eyes at her outburst.

“Twilight—”

“No! I'm sick of this asshole always running his mouth!” Twilight said, cutting off Rarity.

“Hey! I’m just trying to make light of this fucked-up-beyond-all-reason situation I’m in!” he said with a furrowed brow.

“Trying to make light?!” she asked. “You don't take anything seriously, ever!”

“I'm not taking shit seriously now because eventually my life is going to get super-fucking-complicated, regardless of whether I go home or not,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Twilight asked, genuinely curious, though still pretty peeved.

“If I'm stuck here, I'm hopefully not going to be stuck on the farm the rest of my life, no offence Jackie, so I'm going to have to go through the whole being introduced to everyone. Then I gotta deal with learning a whole new culture and all that that implies. Not to mention learn new skills, because everything I ever learned means about jack and shit here.”

“And if you get home?” Twilight asked. That was the question that the girls really wanted to know; they could figure what it would be like if he stayed, but they had a hard time figuring why going home would be hard.

“The worst part of that is going to be explaining where I've been the last three-plus months without sounding like a goddamn lunatic and being locked up. You can bet telling everyone 'I was with magical, talking ponies' is going to fill that bill nicely. Plus I had a government job with clearance, so you can be damn sure the government's going to want an explanation. My apartment's gone and my bank account was probably wiped out to cover my debts. I might have been declared dead, so everything I had got divided among family, and I'll have to deal with being declared 'un-dead'. Granted, most of that stuff's short-term… ish… but still, that doesn't change the fact I've got a grade-A clusterfuck or a category five shitstorm to look forward to.

“But right now? Right now I don't have to worry about shit. I just get up. Work the farm. Screw around with Mac. Go to sleep. Everything else is out of my hands and I can't do dick about. So fuck it, I'm kicking back while I can.” As soon as Scott finished, he realized how much of a self-centered prick he had just made himself sound. Mostly because he was being a self-centered prick.

“Meanwhile we all get to worry and work to send you back, while you sit back and relax. Nice,” Twilight said. With that, Twilight turned around where she stomped over to and up Rarity's stairs.

The girls and Scott were silent as they listened to Twilight through the ceiling make her way through the hall above them; they all collectively winced when Twilight slammed a door.

An uncomfortable silence filled the house as the three sat there. The only sound was Scott rapping his cards on the table. Applejack and Rarity were at a loss as to what to do. Applejack felt a little guilty for not having noticed the fact her friend was getting upset. Rarity felt a little guilty for not having tried harder to stop the fight once it got going.

Scott wasn't entirely sure what he had done to get her so upset in the first place, truth be told. He had ribbed Twilight way worse than what he had just done, so he figured this had either been the breaking point after building over time or it was something else.

“Go upstairs and talk to Twilight or sit down here and let Twilight cool off on her own.” he thought. “Probably better to let her cool off on her own.”

As if able to read his mind, Applejack poked his arm. “Ya should go talk to her an’ apologize.”

“Nah, better to let her cool off a little,” he said.

“Ah know her better than you, so git,” said Applejack with a harder poke.

Scott grumbled as he stood. “Okay, okay, I’m gitting.”

Twilight sat up on Rarity's bed when she heard the door opening. The sound that followed was not the clopping sound of hooves that she had expected, but the muted thumps of feet crossing the bedroom.

Twilight didn't acknowledge Scott when he paused beside the bed.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked.

Twilight merely shrugged in response.

Scott curled and uncurled his fingers as he hesitated. After a moment he slowly sat next to Twilight. The two sat there staring out the window across them while awkward silence filled the room; Scott, meanwhile, occasionally stole a glance at Twilight, who remained impassive.

“Nice weather today,” Scott said.

“The weather ponies really outdid themselves,” said Twilight without any real emotion.

“God, I suck at this. Sparkles, I'm sorry—”

“Scott, are you scared of me?” Twilight asked, unable to look him in the eyes. Scott's mouth closed with an audible click. For a good fifteen seconds, neither made a sound.

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“You got really defensive when I brought up the spell, and it’s not the first time you’ve done that around me either.”

“Is that why you got mad?” Twilight nodded in response. “That wasn’t what was going on, Sparkles. I, and the rest of my kind for that matter, get really shitty at the idea of someone poking around in our memories.”

“Really?” she asked, looking over at him.

“No one can do it, read minds I mean, so our minds have become an untouchable sort of safe haven, kind of.”

Twilight hummed to herself in thought. “I never really thought of it like that,” she said as she stared at the floor.

Reading minds was as illegal as murder in Equestria. Reading memories, legally, was like sex: if the parties involved were willing, fine; if it was forced, it was a different story. Twilight was fascinated by the fact Scott considered reading memories and minds one and the same. She wanted to ask more questions about it, though it would have to wait.

“So you’re not afraid of me?” she asked, she looked back at him with hope.

“I wouldn’t say ‘afraid’ per se…” he said. Scott could feel the words leaving his mouth; had they been tangible, he would have grabbed them to keep them from getting away.

“But why? I'd never hurt you. Don't you trust me?” she asked. He winced internally at the hurt in Twilight's voice.

“Yeah, I trust you.” It was a weird moment for Scott as he realized he wasn't just trying to placate Twilight, that he had really meant what he said. “But it's not an issue of trust.”

“What do you mean?”

“Twilight, you got to understand, nothing like you exists in my world. In any capacity. You can levitate a couple dozen tons, you can fucking teleport, and to top it all off, you're the pseudo-daughter of an immortal god-queen who makes the sun her personal bitch,” he said. “It's all just a bit much.” It was hard for Twilight to resist correcting Scott’s depiction of Celestia.

“Oh.” Twilight stared down at her hooves. “Is that why you don’t like me?”

“Now when the hell did I say I didn't like you?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“You tease me all the time, Scott.”

“For Christ's sake, just because you're a little intimidating doesn't mean I don't like you. Hell, I give you a hard time because I like you,” he said.

Twilight stared blankly at Scott for a quick minute before she scrunched her face up in distaste. “What are you? A nine-year old that doesn't know how to express his feelings?”

“No, I’m ten. So you better tell the school they got a new student,” he said. Twilight merely rolled her eyes, but her small smile told him she still thought it was at least a little funny.

“Well, you'd be head of the class in drinking, swearing, and being a stupid dick,” she said, to which Scott shrugged.

“So, honor roll?” he said, earning a small giggle from Twilight. Scott smiled, glad to see her spirits lifting. “Seriously though, regardless what happens, I'll always be really thankful to you. For everything you've done.”

“I know, Scott,” she said. “That doesn’t really change the fact you’re… well, an ass sometimes.”

“I don’t mean to be. I’ve just got…”— with a tired sigh he rubbed the bridge of his nose —“You’re right, I’ll work on it, okay?”

“He’s bottling things up. Again,” she thought as she nodded with a look of unease. “Scott, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Don’t give me that, Scott. Anypony with a set of working eyes can see you are anything but fine.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Scott had had this fight with Twilight before and wasn't about go through another round of it. Twilight could be really persistent when she thought she was right— which was most of the time. He popped up from the bed, deciding the issue was settled. “Sorry about making you mad downstairs, all right?”

Twilight frowned at him as she subconsciously flicked her tail at his blatant change of the subject. In the end, though, Twilight just couldn’t bring herself to push for what was sure to be another fight. She sighed in defeat before nodding her head. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“Come on, any longer up here and the others are liable to think I’m putting the moves on you.”

Hopping off the bed, she walked with Scott out of the room. “I’d say you’re being ridiculous, but Rarity already thinks you’re sleeping with Applejack.”

“Are you serious?” Scott asked, receiving a nod from Twilight. “That girl is ate up.”

Any other comments regarding that topic remained unsaid as they reached the top of the stairs.

Downstairs, Twilight and Scott told the other two they had made up. It was wordlessly agreed that the blood sample was fine; however, the mind scan spell was never brought up again. Whatever concerns Scott had about the blood sample he kept to himself in an effort to not start any problems after Twilight’s outburst. The three returned to the card game as Rarity worked the hours away. The whole while, Applejack and Twilight talked about this and that. Scott kept quiet by and large, other than the odd question or comment, due mostly to the fact that he had little to no idea what they were talking about.

A couple hours later, Twilight bid them all farewell as she left; after which Rarity went upstairs to retrieve a thicker and sturdier thread. Scott sprawled out on the couch, planning on taking a nap.

“Move over, ya big galoot,” said Applejack, having decided a nap looked like a good idea. Scott pulled his legs into the fetal position to make room for her. “That ain’t gonna work, partner.”

“What? Why?” he asked.

“The sun’ll be in muh eyes,” she said. The problem was that most of the couch was covered in sunlight let in by Rarity’s special, thin curtains that blocked the view, while still letting light pass through. Scott grumbled as he grabbed the pillow he was using, then shuffled to the other side of the couch. Applejack smiled, hopped up onto the couch, and settled in perpendicular to him. Scott then set the pillow on her back and laid his head on the pillow while she curled up on his side.

Applejack looked back at him with a raised brow. “What are ya doin’?” she asked.

Scott didn’t bother opening his eyes to respond. “Either I lay on you so I don’t have the sun in my face, or you can enjoy the floor.”

Applejack gave a slight shrug before she removed her hat and set it on the floor. Just as she laid her head down, she caught the sound of soft snores coming from Scott. Lifting her head up, she looked back at Scott, who was already out like a light. “How does he do that?” Applejack gave a small shake of her head as she laid it back down between her front hooves and closed her eyes while Scott's head rose and fell with her steady breathing.

Five minutes later, Rarity returned with the thread to be greeted with the sight of Scott using Applejack as a pillow as they slept on the couch together.

“D’aww,” Rarity cooed. “That’s so sweet.” Rarity placed the thread at her workspace.

Reaching into a nearby drawer, she pulled out a Polaroid camera that she used when dealing with long distance customers; she would take a picture of the outfit, send it to the customer so they could give her input, that sort of thing. Right now, however, Rarity was finding it a different use. “A little friendly blackmail never hurt anypony,” Rarity said with a snap of the camera’s shutter. She placed the film and camera back in the drawer before returning to her work.

An hour and a half later Rarity finished. After waking Scott and Applejack, Rarity showed off to Scott the end results. L.L. Bean would have been proud… or sued. Scott thank Rarity for the clothes and after a round of goodbye’s and come-any-time’s, Applejack and Rarity provided over watch while Scott returned to the wagon. Hitched up the wagon Applejack began the trek back to Sweet Apple Acres.

Let it Begin Act 4

The sun had only just disappeared below the horizon. Scott sat on top of a picnic table, just outside the Apple’s front door. He stared out over the expanse of Sweet Apple Acres, lost in thoughts of little to no importance. It was something he’d done even before he arrived. All his concerns, all his problems would gradually fade till they were little more than white noise.

The sound of heavy hoof-falls from behind ended Scott's reprieve. Looking back, he saw Mac trotting up with a foamy mug balanced on his back and another other on his head. Mac stopped beside Scott and gestured up to the mug on his head with a quick glance, then wiggled his brow. Scott chuckled with a small shake of his head and picked up the drink. Mac took his own mug and climbed up to sit next to Scott. The time ticked by as they drained their drinks in silence.

The sound of Applejack opening and shutting the door drew Big Mac’s attention. She had a nice polish to her hooves and her coat had been brushed out. Her mane and tail were thoroughly combed as well as sporting new, bright red hair ties. She had really cleaned up. Well, for her anyways. She had basically done what most mares considered the bare minimum for leaving the house. Most of the time, she ran a brush through her mane and tail, then called it a day.

“Ya headin’ out?” Mac asked.

“Yeah, Ah’m headin’ on over ta Twilight’s,” Applejack said, trotting up to the two. Scott stared back at her with a blank look before realization struck him.

“That’s right,” he said, drawing it out. “It’s that time of the month again. I forgot about that.”

“Yes sir, the girls and I are gonna kick back a few.” She looked around Scott at her brother. “Ya heading out too, Mac?”

“Eenope.”

“Ya sure? I heard ol’ Viny has thrown a little somethin’ together at the bar, an’ neither of us have ta worry ‘bout Applebloom, since she’s over at Scoot’s.”

“Eeyup,” Mac said. Scott looked over at the big pony, an eyebrow raised in slight suspicion.

“Well, okay then,” she said, sounding a little unsure. She was convinced Mac spent too much time on the farm, and it always bothered her when he chose to stay. Knowing what a dead end that argument was, however, she turned and trotted off at a casual pace for Ponyville. Scott and Big Mac watched her leave until she rounded the corner of the barn.

“You wouldn’t happen to be staying here because of me?” Scott asked, with a sideways glance.

“Ah know ya get a mite bored here,” Mac said.

“Aaaw. That’s so touching I think my dick moved.” Mac chuckled with a shake of his head, then worked on his drink. Scott tipped his mug back, letting the last of the cool liquid slide down his throat. “Seriously though, if you want to take off, don’t let me hold you back.”

“Ah’m good.”

“No you’re not.” Scott hopped off the table while Big Mac chuckled. “Come on. If you’re going to stay, I might as well teach you something.” He started for the house with Mac not far behind.

Upstairs, Mac stood in the center of Scott’s room while Scott dug around in his closet. The closet was filled with the various items he had arrived with, some of which were now scattered about his room. Opening a duffle bag, Scott was rewarded with a plastic baggy filled with four balls. He snatched up the bag and stumbled over things as he approached Mac.

“Behold, my glorious ball sack.” Scott snapped his arm out and held the bag out an inch from Mac’s face.

“Ping pong balls?” Mac tilted his head over to look around the bag at Scott.

“No. These are official beer pong, ping pong balls,” Scott said. He quickly decided to ignore the fact Mac knew what ping pong balls were.

“What makes ‘em official?”

“They cost three times as much.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re official,” Scott said, without an ounce of irony or sarcasm. Big Mac glanced at the bag and opened his mouth then paused before slowly closing it.

“Ya’re not good with money, are ya?” Big Mac splayed his ears out to the side.

“Never mind that.” Scott scampered out of the room like a kid at Christmas, while gesturing for Mac to follow. It’s not every day you get to teach aliens a drinking game. “We got beer pong to play.”

Above the rooftops of Ponyville, the pegasus pony Thunderlane glided lazily along  to Lucky’s. His light blue and white mohawk bristled in the wind. Glancing down at a three-way intersection to check his bearings, he spied an orange-ish-yellow earth pony looking around. He rolled his eyes at Caramel’s sense of direction... or lack thereof, rather. Caramel was the James May of ponies in terms of navigation: the poor guy could get lost in a studio apartment. Banking around, Thunderlane began a corkscrew holding pattern, much like a vulture would.

“Get lost again, dude?” he asked. Caramel looked up and was barely able to make out his gun-metal friend against the night sky.

“Heh, yeah.” Caramel rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve never gone to Lucky’s from the eastside of town.”

“No problem, bro.” Thunderlane glided up alongside his friend. With a snap of his wings, he brought himself to a stall and dropped the short distance to the ground. The two continued on their way with Thunderlane leading. It wasn’t long before they arrived at a three-story thatched house that was indistinct from those around it.

They climbed the outside stairs to the second floor and knocked on the door. Thunderlane and Caramel could hear the clopping of Lucky’s hooves through the door as he approached. The door swung open to reveal a bluish-grey earth pony.

“Hey, guys,” Lucky said. He stepped off to the side to let them in.

“S’up, bra?” Thunderlane asked, as Caramel and he trotted in.

It was an atypical bachelor pad in that it had a homey décor. The furniture all matched and a few paintings hung on the walls here and there. Fake plants dressed up the room’s corners. It was all pre-furnished, though, as evidenced by the general cleanliness, Lucky took pride in it nonetheless.

“You ready to go, Lucky bro? Cause this is going to be sweet!” Thunderlane plopped down onto the couch. “There are gonna be so many fine mares there.”

“I just don’t want to go home alone,” Caramel looked to the side with a grimace. “Again.”

“Hey, don’t worry, Mel, maybe my luck will rub off on you,” Lucky said. Caramel gave Lucky a flat look.

“Eeew. You better not do that in public, bro. You’ll get arrested,” Thunderlane said. Caramel threw his head back and laughed. Performing the pony equivalent of the middle finger, Lucky rubbed his hoof against his chin toward Thunderlane. Thunderlane made a kissy-face in return. Lucky rolled his eyes and headed  for his bathroom.

“Anyways, I gotta finish getting ready,”Lucky said.

“Aw, dude. You’re worse than a chick, bro.”

“Don’t hate,” Lucky said, as he passed through the doorway. “I got to look my best if I feel like getting…”

“Don’t say it.” Caramel facehoofed.

Lucky poked his head into the doorway. “Lucky.” Thunderlane and Caramel groaned. Lucky laughed as he disappeared out of the doorway.

“No more, please,” Thunderlane whined.

“You better be glad Mac’s not here to hear these puns,” Caramel said.

“Dude, where is Mac?” Thunderlane asked.

“I don’t think he’s coming,” Caramel said.

“Aw, really?”

Caramel nodded. “I asked him a couple days ago and he said he was just going to stay home.”

“Why?” Lucky asked, stepping into the room. He frowned when Caramel could only shrug in response. “Vinyl Scratch is going to be playing here as DJ PON-3— for free— and he couldn’t give you a reason?” His frown deepened when Caramel nodded. “Over my fuzzy, grey balls. Come on guys, he’s going if we gotta drag him all the way there from the farm.”

Lucky trotted out of his apartment with a determined scowl. Thunderlane and Caramel shared a look before Thunderlane shrugged. Snapping his wings out, Thunderlane took flight after Lucky, with Caramel cantering out the door right behind him.

At Twilight’s tree house, the girls were all trying decide what they were going to do that evening. It had been decided beforehand that they would simply kick back at Twilight’s. That, however, was before Vinyl Scratch had announced she was going to play for the town. No one had checked with each other to see if plans would change. So now there was an argument.

Rainbow Dash wanted to go out to dance as well as maybe get some action, and Pinkie Pie wanted to go out to support her close friend Vinyl. Twilight wanted to stick to the plan and Rarity wanted to stay in. Applejack honestly didn’t care as long as there was booze and Fluttershy was too easygoing to really have an opinion.

“We should pre-game!” Pinkie Pie sprang up off the ground with an ecstatic grin. Her friends all glanced at each other in confusion.

“Pre-game, Pinkie?” Twilight asked.

“Pre-game is where you drink at home some before you go out, so you don’t spend as much,” Pinkie said. “This way, we get to stay in and go out.”

“Pinkie, where did you get an idea like that?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Scott told me.”

“Well given how much he can drink, I can see where such an idea would hold some merit,” Rarity said.

“He says he’s not even a heavy drinker where he’s from, if ya can believe that,” Applejack said.

“Do we have to talk about— him?” Rainbow Dash scrunched up her muzzle in distaste.

“Aw, come on, Dashie.” Pinkie hopped over and gave Dash a light squeeze. “You can’t hold what happened against him forever.”

“I can try.” Dash folded her forelegs across her chest. “I still say we should lock that fuu—.” Rainbow Dash reeled herself in when she remembered who was around. She glanced over at Fluttershy, who was looking back with a stern (for her anyways) expression. “Uh, sorry, Shy.”

“That’s okay. You caught yourself and that’s what is important.” Fluttershy smiled back with closed eyes, missing Dash roll hers.

“Not this again,” Applejack said. “He’s a little ornery maybe, but Ah keep telling ya he’s harmless.”

“Oooh, Applejack thinks he’s harmless, what a surprise,” Rainbow Dash mocked.

“So it’s agreed that we will— pre-game— as Pinkie put it?” Rarity interrupted before Applejack could open her mouth. Twilight shot Rarity an appreciative smile, and Rarity winked back.

With a chorus of general agreement the girl’s spirits lifted. Pinkie started up a record player, and the sounds of upbeat pop filled the room. Twilight floated over glasses and booze to the others, beginning their night of debauchery.

The country music stylings of the Southern Drawl Brothers played in the background as Big Mac and Scott played beer pong. The Equestrian and American stood at opposite ends of a table with groups of cups in front of them. Mac’s cups didn’t have as much as Scott’s half-full ones; a handicap they both agreed to on account of humanity’s better alcohol tolerance. Still though, Big Mac was having a blast playing the simple game. The fact he had beat Scott at his own game a couple of times wasn’t hurting.

Big Mac tossed a little ball at Scott’s group of cups. The ball went deep, completely missing the back of the table.

“So who’s this Vinyl Scratch your sister mentioned?” Scott asked. He walked over to the ball after it came to rest against the wall.

“She’s a local DJ tha’ went on ta be sum’ big-wig music artist and goes by DJ PON-3,” Mac said.

“What does she play?”

“Wubstep? Dropstep?”

“Is it dubstep?” Scott smirked at Mac trying to remember the name of something he obviously did not care for. Mac jabbed his hoof at Scott while furiously nodding his head. “What’s the matter Mac-y, don’t like the dubstep?”

Mac scowled with a dismissive snort. Tossing his second ball, it went wide, completely missing the table. Scott snapped his hand out, grabbing the ball on its first bounce.

“Like the crap you listen to is any better.” Scott tossed his ball, which bounced off the edge of a cup. He looked over at the record player with narrowed eyes. He couldn’t be sure if it was a song about old dogs and loose women, or old women and loose dogs.

“Wha’s wrong with the Southern Drawl Brothers?”

“Other than the fact the vocals have got more ‘wang’ in them than a gay pride parade, not much I suppose.” Scott’s second ball landed dead center in one of Mac’s cups. “Drink up.”

Mac grimaced as he reached out for the cup. It took some effort for Mac to finish his drink. With a couple games down, it was starting to feel more like work than fun. He may have won the two previous games, but they were still pyrrhic victories at best, with only one or two cups left at the end. To make matters worse, Scott was smoking him this round.

“Yeah, it’s more fun with two-man teams. You can divide up the drinks,” Scott said. As if the universe heard and decided to alleviate that problem, the sound of someone entering the front door interrupted the game.

“Applejack back already?” Scott asked.

“Must be,” Mac said. “Wonder why?”

“Hey, Big Mac, you in here?” Mac and Scott froze with wide eyes at the sound of clearly-not-Applejack’s voice. Before either of them could react, Caramel, Thunderlane, and Lucky entered the room. The three newcomers paused in the doorway and stared at the scene before them with blank faces. Scott and Big Mac stared back, looking like deer caught in the headlights. An uncomfortable silence descended on the room as no one moved a muscle.

“What’s going on here, Mac?” Lucky asked. Big Mac and Scott shared an uneasy look.

“This here’s Scott. He’s, uh, visitin’ from… out of town,” Mac said. Scott gave a small wave to the newcomers. He raised an eyebrow when Thunderlane goofily waved back. “Scott, this is Lucky, Thunderlane, and Caramel Apple, friends o’ mine.” Big Mac pointed to each pony in turn.

Scott picked up on the name Apple. “Must be related,” he thought.

Thunderlane walked straight up to Scott without hesitation. He stared up at Scott, his eyes wide and his mouth pursed, with unrestrained curiosity. He tilted his head while one of his ears flopped to the side. “What are you, dude?”

“Human.” Scott glanced over at Big Mac for help and guidance. Big Mac didn’t notice as he was too busy watching with bated breath for Thunderlane’s reaction.

“A hue-mun, hunh?” Thunderlane said, rolling the sound over. “Neat.” He stepped back and dropped to his haunches by the side of the table.

With that single word, the tension in the room lifted. Caramel left to take a leak, and Lucky trotted up next to Thunderlane. Big Mac visibly deflated; he knew his friends well enough to know that if something didn’t trip their alarm bells in the first minute, it never would. Scott, however, did not know this. Their accepting attitude was causing more than its fair share of confusion for him.

Coming from a world where humans are the only intelligent species, it was easy for Scott to take for granted that he would be labeled an alien on sight. In a world where intelligent species are a dime-a-dozen, it was fairly easy to be simply overlooked as an unknown race. The Apples and the Bearers had been convinced he was telling the truth, by a combination of their trusting nature and the things he had. Even then, it hadn’t been enough to convince all of them. To Big Mac’s friends it was weirder to see Big Mac hanging out with someone than it was to see Scott.

“How do you know him?” Lucky asked Mac.

“I was passing by and helped Mac here with a busted wagon. So he’s letting me stay a few days.” Though the situation may have been causing a few cylinders to misfire in Scott’s brain, he was still able to rattle off a pretty decent cover story. The story seemed to satisfy Lucky.

“What are you two doing?” Lucky asked.

“This is a drinkin’ game Scott here was jus’ showing me,” Big Mac said. He smirked when Lucky’s and Thunderlane’s ears perked up. “Ya want ta show ‘em, Scott?”

The two ponies swiveled their heads a little faster than needed over to Scott. Scott didn’t know what Big Mac was getting at, figuring the game would likely encourage them to stay, but decided to play along. Caramel trotted up while Scott went over the rules and play of the game, keeping it short and sweet.

While the newcomers got in the groove of the game, Scott caught Big Mac’s attention. He gestured with a tilt of his head and a glance of the eyes toward the kitchen. Big Mac nodded and followed him. In the kitchen, Scott peeked through the doorway to check the others. Seeing that they were good, he leaned over to Big Mac.

“Get them the fuck out of here!” Scott whispered through clenched teeth.

“Ah’m trying ta keep ‘em here; they’ll tell everypony ya’re here,” Big Mac whispered.

“Well, how long do you think you can do that?”

“Not long,” Mac said. “Ah was gonna go get AJ an’ Twilight.”

“You are not leaving me here alone with them. And that will take a while, even if you can find them.”

Mac tipped his chin in thought. “We’ll git’em drunk.” He startled Scott a little when he suddenly smacked his hoof against the ground with a clop.

“What.”

“Hear me out. Y’all can handle yer drink better than we can, so ya’ll be able to drink wit us and not look suspicious. We all git liquored up and then they pass out. Ya’ll’ll be sober ‘nough ta keep ‘em here ‘til they do,” Mac said. “They’ll probably forget the whole thing in the morning.”

Scott blinked. “Mac, that’s retarded, not to mention that plan sounds rape-y as hell.”

“Ya got anything better?”

“Fuck it.” Scott turned and started walking for the living room. “All I gotta do is not get too drunk.”

Scott slammed down his finished mug of hard cider on the table with a clack. With a flick of his wrist, the mug went sliding across the table he was sitting at. The mug came to rest among the veritable chess board of its empty brethren.

“Dude,” Thunderlane said. “You’re a machine.”

“That’s what your mom said,” Scott said. He raised an eyebrow when Caramel snickered behind his hoof. “What’re you laughing about? Your mom was there, too.”

“Nice.” Thunderlane held out his hoof for a hoofbump. It took Scott a couple tries, but he managed to fistbump the hoof. Well, more like glanced off the side.

It was the thought that counted.

“I tell ya, Mac,” Lucky said. A slight, but unmistakable, slur in his speech. He was staring at a group picture of the Elements of Harmony. “Your sister’s friends are so hot; I don’t know how you aren’t a father yet.”

“Are they really?” Scott asked.

“Dude, dude, duuude.” Thunderlane leaned toward Scott more and more. He tipped over onto his chest with a muffled thump, leaving his flank sticking up in the air. “So fine.”

“Oh, that’s pretty.” Scott pushed Thunderlane over with his foot, sparing the group from the awful sight.

“Well I think it’s about time to hit the old dusty trail, down to the old Rusty bar,” Lucky said.

“The hell was that?” Big Mac asked. “Why’d ya say it all weird?”

“I’m practicing rhymes to impress that zebra mare.” Lucky held his chin up with pride. “What d’ya think?”

“Ah think ya better get used ta using yer hoof for a while,” Mac said. Scott and Caramel burst out laughing while Lucky scowled at Big Mac.

“You should totally come with us!” Thunderlane said.

“I’m down,” Scott said without hesitation. Big Mac’s friends all let out a small cheer.

A supreme sense of dread welled up in Big Mac. He tried to remember through the intoxicated fog of his mind why this was bad. His face gradually changed to dawning horror as he remembered.

“Hold up!” They all turned toward Mac with perplexed looks. Mac weaved on unsteady legs over to a table with a half-full mug. He lifted up the flagon and chugged, some of the booze escaping the corners of his mouth, until it was empty. He turned back to the group with a dopey smile. “Almost wasted cider.”

Scott had seen glimpses of Ponyville before, usually while he snuck from a wagon to a house or a peek from a window. He had never had the opportunity to really admire the quaintness of the little town. Thatched roof buildings had been built without a care in the world to civil engineering and city planning. Side streets and alleys would snake and twist as a result, then suddenly empty out into open common areas that were dotted with buildings. Flowery vines draped from the underside of skyways, which were surprising in number, like green waterfalls. Unfortunately, Scott would continue to be unable to really admire the quaintness. He was so wasted he could barely remember his own name, let alone take in the sights.

Their little band rounded a corner to see a throng of Equestrians congregated out front of the Rusty Horseshoe bar, known as the Rusty for short. The number of Equestrians steadily increased as they neared the building. Some were couples, while others were double dates. Most were groups like theirs, just friends and co-workers looking to have a good time. Scott was drawing more than a few odd looks. The Equestrians nudged others in their group, followed by pointing and hushed conversations. It never went beyond that and not for very long.

With Lucky in the lead, they weaved their way through the crowd to the door. The sound of techno beats and bass drops blared from speakers that sat in open windows. Everyone they passed was doing their best to talk over the music and the other conversations, adding to the noise.

The large, pale-yellow unicorn stallion, Digit Cruncher, focused on Scott as the group neared the door. Scott eyed the pony back, who looked like a turn-of-the-century pugilist: handlebar mustache, rolled sleeves, and suspenders over a white button shirt that strained to contain the muscles underneath. All in all, he looked like one magnificent bastard.

“Who is this now?” Cruncher asked. His voice loud and hammy.

“Cruncher!” Thunderlane yelled as he shoved Lucky off to the side. Lucky cried out as he flailed through the air, landing in some shrubbery. “Dude, what’re- what’re you doing here?”

Cruncher let out a boisterous laugh at Thunderlane’s youthful peep. “Had a bit to drink already, I see.” Cruncher slapped Thunderlane on the back, nearly causing his legs to buckle. “I’m helping Miss Punch keep things in order. That boss of hers is too cheap to hire security. So with that in mind…” He turned his attention over to Scott with a meaningful look. “I know a scrapper when I see one, and he looks like a scrapper.”

Scott hadn’t heard a word. He was much too busy snickering with Caramel at Lucky to pay attention. Lucky’s bushy prison shook violently from his struggle to free himself, accompanied by muffled swears emanating from its depths.

“Aw no way, dude, he’s cool. Jus’ ask Mac,” Thunderlane said.

“Eeyup.”

With a yelp, Lucky fell out of the accursed bush in a heap, leaves and a twig stuck out of his mane and tail. Picking himself up, he trotted up and shoved his face into Thunderlane’s, glaring at him the whole time.

“What?” Thunderlane asked.

Cruncher chuckled. “Well I suppose if Mac says he’s all right, he can’t be all bad.” Cruncher waved the group inside.

Inside, the building had a passing similarity to an old-western-style saloon. It had an open floor with a ceiling two stories high and stairs that lead up to a walkway overlooking the floor. It was all too modern-feeling and polished to be a saloon, though. The large size, along with little touches like ambient lighting and the tiled area around the bar area, helped this distinction as well.

While a tall ceiling on Earth lacked any real function other than temperature control, here it could be used by pegasi. Pegasus ponies didn’t so much dance as flow. They twisted and roped gracefully through the air like seals in water. Couples playfully chased each other in figure-eights then, holding hooves, spun off into double-helixes. It was movement in three dimensions set to music. Even in Scott’s drunken stupor, he was awestruck by the sight.

Having arrived at the Rusty, the girls took seats at a table Rarity had used her ladylike charms, to weasel a group of stallions out of. Applejack left to place an order for a round of drinks. At the same time, Pinkie took off for the stage.

Pinkie trotted over to the small stage in the back. A white unicorn wearing pink shaded sunglasses stood behind a blue turntable with large speakers on its sides. She held the single speaker of a headphone to her ear, the rest of the device jiggling in the air as she bobbed her head.

“V-dubs!” Pinkie Pie hopped up on the stage.

“P-funk!” Vinyl Scratch shouted.

Before Pinkie had known the other Bearers, she had known Vinyl Scratch. Back when Pinkie Pie moved to Ponyville, the first place she visited was Vinyl’s record store. Being self-proclaimed party animals, the two hit it off immediately.

“What’ve you been up to, girl?” Vinyl asked after a hug.

“Meh, you know me: throwing parties and making friends with chaos gods.” She shrugged. “But enough about me. Vinyl, it’s so neat-o that you did this for Ponyville.”

“Aw, I was in the area.” A faint blush came to her cheeks. If Pinkie noticed, she didn’t say. The two made small talk, catching up as old friends are inclined to do. It didn’t take long for the conversation to steer back to the party.

“Anything exciting happen yet?” Pinkie asked.

“Not really, but earlier this guy I’ve never seen before gets up on the dance floor and, well, it was awesome,” Vinyl said.

“He was that good?”

“Oh, hell no, he sucked.” She laughed at the memory of the tall human dry-humping air and what could best be described as practicing limbo while chugging beer. “Funniest thing I’ve seen in, like, a while.”

“Wait, so there’s a new pony in town?” Pinkie searched about with growing excitement.

“He’s not a pony. I’ve played everywhere, and I’ve never seen anything like him,” Vinyl said.

That caught Pinkie’s attention, and not in a good way. Vinyl wasn’t exaggerating that, short of the badlands and unexplored areas, she had played across the globe. Pinkie knew if Vinyl hadn’t seen anything like him, then no one had.

“You wouldn’t be able to point him out, would you?” Pinkie asked. Vinyl noticed Pinkie had become uneasy.

“Uh, sure. He’s…” Vinyl lifted her glasses and squinted as she searched the crowd. “There he is.”

Pinkie followed where Vinyl’s hoof pointed behind herself. Her heart started beating faster and faster as she turned her head with a growing internal cringe. It didn’t take her long to spot Scott seated at a table with a mare hanging off his arm. She whipped her head back to Vinyl with an awkward smile. “Oh, shi-ha ha. He’s weird all right.” She stammered a bit. “Yup, better go make friends— or something.”

Before Vinyl could ask what was going on, Pinkie shot off, leaving a pink dust cloud in the shape of a pony. The cloud gradually dispersed, leaving a thoroughly confused Vinyl. On Pinkie’s rush back to the girls, she ran across Applejack chatting up a stallion.

“—okay at the rodeo. But Ah ain’t rode a bull yet tha’ can throw me off,” Applejack said. She canted her head to the side over half-lid eyes. The stallion brightened with a stupid grin.

“Applejack! We got a big problem,” Pinkie said. “And I don’t mean your terrible innuendo.”

“Pinkie!” Applejack said. “Uh, what’s wrong?”

“Scott is here!” Applejack paused, staring blankly at the panicking pink pony mere inches from her face. Applejack began chuckling, much to Pinkie’s annoyance.

“Who-wee, Pinkie, that’s a good one. Ya had me goin’ for a sec.” Applejack began to turn back to the stallion until Pinkie grabbed her by the barrel with both forehooves. She hoisted the workhorse into the air, turning her in the direction of Scott. “Hey! What are ya… doing…” Applejack’s jaw and legs went slack. There are very few things more sobering than seeing the alien you’re hiding sitting in a crowded bar. She didn’t even realize she was moving when Pinkie placed her back down.

“See!” Pinkie said.

“Go get Twilight an’ the others,” she said. The determination in her voice matched the expression on her face. Pinkie snapped to attention and returned a flawless salute before bolting off through the crowd.

Applejack might have chuckled at her friend’s strangeness, but right now she had bigger fish to fry. And by bigger fish, she meant Scott. And by fry that meant, well, actually that wasn’t a euphemism. With the ponies noticing her quickly averting their eyes and moving out of the way, it took her no time to reach Scott.

“Scott! What in tarnation are ya doing here!” she demanded. Her irritation raising as Scott stared at her with a blank expression for entirely too long.

“Applejack!” Scott exclaimed happily. He threw his arms out wide, sending the skanky mare on his arm tumbling.

Applejack whinnied in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her neck and pulled her halfway up onto his lap with a hug.

“Applejack. Applejack? Hey, Applejack.”

“How drunk are ya right now?”

“I love-s you, man,” he said. With a horse-like snort, she looked out with a flat expression. “Hey, guys, look who- look who decided to

show.” Scott grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her up to stand on her hindhooves.

Applejack turned her attention to the others seated around the table for the first time. Carmel was passed out, drooling on the table with his tongue hanging out. Lucky was having trouble staying balanced in his chair. He sat there with a stupid grin on his face, both eyelids refusing to blink in sync. Thunderlane and Big Mac were at least coherent. Thunderlane was talking trash about someone with Big Mac; about whom, nobody knew, and it was obvious neither did they. Applejack dragged her hoof down her face with a groan. Behind her, Twilight and the other girls ran up, sliding to a stop.

“Scott! What are you doing here? What’s going on?” Twilight rattled off quickly in a panic.

“Princess Pony! My favorite- my favorite- my favorite… What are we talking about?”

Twilight blinked. “Are you drunk?”

“Nooo joke!”

“Fantastic,” Twilight deadpanned.

“We need ta git ‘im outta here.” Applejack started pulling on one of his arms, trying to coax him onto his feet.

“Hey, back off!” The mare Scott had been with shoved her way between Applejack and Scott.  “Like, go find your own stallion.”

“Pardon?” Applejack scrunched up her muzzle at the smell of booze, cheap perfume, and Juicy Gum that the intoxicated mare never stopped chewing. Scott scowled at the back of this random stranger’s head. He had already forgotten that moments ago the mare had been wrapped around his arm.

“I’m not letting some inbred hick show me up.” The skank reared up and lifted a hoof back.

Scott was having none of this ‘punching Applejack in the face’ nonsense. He reached out and casually, with the force one might use to move curtains, pushed the her to the side. It was enough to overpower her already at-its-limit sense of balance.

The skank was so wasted, she didn’t even try to catch herself as she fell into a nearby stallion. Ponies fell into others like an expanding wave of dominoes in the tightly packed bar. Everyone jumped back to their hooves in less than agreeable moods. By now everything had stopped and the music had cut off. The party atmosphere was gone, consumed by an overriding air of combativeness that had spread like wildfire. Everypony stood silent and tense, eyeing each other, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Berry Punch held a soda fizz dispenser, ready to defend the bar area with her last breath. It was the only area she would actually have to clean if things got messy. Digit Cruncher had been moving to break up the fight. The mountain of muscles stopped however, when he realized a few stallions were eyeing him. A sure downside to being ripped was that there was never a shortage of drunks and half-wits eager to claim bragging rights and test their mettle against you.

The girls were all torn between being thankful he had helped Applejack out and frustrated that, if he hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have had to. The fact he was patting his pockets down, mumbling about someone having his nonexistent keys, wasn’t helping his case.

Vinyl Scratch had ducked down and was peeking over her turntable. She was practically buzzing with excitement, as she magically held the needle over a record ambiguously titled ‘Fight Music’. Vinyl Scratch frowned when the tension in the air began to fade. Ponies all started slowly relaxing their muscles and adopting more neutral postures.

“Aaah—,” Shattering the silence, the mare seemed to come out of nowhere at Applejack. “—bitch!” Her hoof connected with Applejack’s face, sending the farmer reeling. Vinyl dropped the needle, and all hell broke loose.

It was a battle royale, with ponies beating up and tossing others everywhere. The whole area filled with the sounds of mayhem: the fast-tempo metal playing over the speakers, hooves smacking against skulls, the occasional wood snapping from splintering chairs and tables. Vinyl Scratch cheered as she jumped from the stage into a flying-elbow drop on some poor soul.

“Ya better run, ya little bitch!” Applejack charged after the skank, who had turned tail and now sported a black eye. The two of them disappeared into the crowd.

Scott immediately got into the thick of it all, Big Mac and Thunderlane following his example. The amount of alcohol in their systems numbed their sense of pain. While their experience with being plastered, left them still able to fight. The trio were a force unmatched as they cut a swath through the drunken melee.

That is, until someone threw a hapless stallion into Scott, sending the two sliding off across the floor. Thunderlane and Big Mac rounded on the offender, but their confidence faltered when they realized that challenger was Digit Cruncher. Every hoof-fall seemed heavier than the last to the farmer and the flyer as the unicorn strolled up to them. They had been on the receiving end of Cruncher’s hooves enough to know how much of a beast he could be. On the other hoof, it had been awhile since they had tried to beat him in a fight. With grim determination, Big Mac and Thunderlane nodded to one another.

“Ha ha! That’s the spirit!” Cruncher rolled his shoulders then reared up. “Now, have at thee!”

The girls were actually being left alone at the start of it all. With Scott taking off along with Applejack before they could stop him, they decided to use their apparent immunity to get Fluttershy out. Once they were a few buildings away, Rarity opted to stay with Fluttershy, leaving Twilight, Pinkie, and Rainbow Dash to go back and try to find Scott and Applejack. That immunity appeared to have run out on their return, however. The Equestrians that had wanted no part in fighting had cleared out, leaving nothing but the brawlers. Outside the Rusty was just as much of a fracas as the inside. The girls had to fight for every inch of ground to get inside.

A unicorn mare jumped from a table at them only to be caught mid air by Dash. With a tight loop, Dash threw the mare whence she came. Meanwhile, Twilight was magically floating a mare along with a stallion and ramming them against each other. Satisfied she’d effectively knocked the stupid out of them, she dropped them to the ground.

“Dash! Go inside and see if you can get Applejack and Scott,” Twilight said. Rainbow nodded and zipped off into the Rusty.

An earth pony mare dropped from a table next to Pinkie. Pinkie reached into her hair and pulled out a party horn. The mare charged, only for Pinkie to blow on the novelty toy, which unwound and smacked the mare on the nose. The mare stepped back and blinked rapidly while wiggling her nose. She tried again, and again Pinkie simply blew on the toy. After rubbing her nose, the mare glared in frustration, while Pinkie smiled back, oblivious. Pinkie blew on the toy a third time as they stood there.

“Hey! Take this seriously,” the mare said.

Pinkie shrugged. “Okie-dokie.” She hopped toward the mare, spun around, and bucked her in the chest. The mare grunted out as she flew back and collided with a table. Pinkie noticed Twilight’s confused expression. “What? Did you think I was just going to pull my party cannon out of nowhere?”

“Well…”

“Because that would’ve ruined the surprise for the next pony!” Pinkie reached behind a knocked-over table and yanked out her glittery cannon. She leveled the muzzle at an approaching stallion. With a smack of her cannon, the stallion disappeared in a blast of glitter and streamers.

“Where is he?” Rainbow Dash was on a mission. She was not about to pass up this opportunity to even the score with Scott. Up above the melee, she spun clockwise and then counter. She grinned when she spotted him.

“Hey, fuckhead!” she yelled. She dropped low and flew right above the crowd’s heads at his chest. Scott snapped his head in her direction and started trying to back away.

Scott grabbed her forelegs as she collided with him, and rolled onto his back. Placing both feet on her barrel, he continued to roll and braced his hands on the ground. Using her momentum, he uncurled his entire body like a spring, launching Dash through the air.

Berry Punch dove off to the side as Dash sailed over the bar upside-down. She gritted her teeth when her back slammed into the bar-back. The bottles and shelves at the point of impact were pulverized with a tremendous shattering of glass and splintering wood. Dash dropped to the ground, the broken shelves tilting after her. All the bottles slid down the shelves in a rush and dropped right on top of Dash.

Back on his feet, Scott stared at the smashed bar-back, completely dumbstruck at what he had just pulled off. He blinked as he sluggishly turned to walk off. Whatever hope he had that it was over was ruined by a roar of unbridled frustration and rage from behind the bar. Scott barely had time to spin around and bring his fists up.

Even the racket of the bar fight couldn’t stifle the loud crack, like that of a great oak being snapped in half, as Rainbow Dash burst up through the bar countertop. Scott jerked his arm up to shield his face from the splinters and pieces of wood whizzing through the air. He peeked over his arms to take stock of how boned he was.

Rainbow Dash straddled the gaping hole with her head held low while breathing heavily. Her feral snarl really accented the murderous glint in her eyes. Scott decided right there that he was in fact, boned.

“Look, no reason to get all murder-y. It was totally an accident that I threw you,” Scott said. Dash’s eye twitched at the implication it was that easy for him to beat her. “Okay, in immediate hindsight I realize I just made it worse.”

Rainbow Dash and Scott had forgotten one of the most important rules of a bar fight: always mind your surroundings. Unfortunately for Rainbow Dash, she would pay the price. Berry Punch launched herself up and blindsided Dash with a flying tackle. The two hit the ground and went rolling off across the floor. Scott heaved a sigh of relief as he watched them disappear into the fray. “Oh, thank you, Jesus.”

Someone calling out his name drew Scott’s attention off to the side. He looked over to see Big Mac looking back at him pleadingly. Cruncher’s tree trunk of a foreleg was wrapped around Mac’s neck and foreleg, pinning the leg against his head. Despite the fact that it looked like Big Mac and Thunderlane had giving him a beating, Cruncher was still laughing and spouting one-liners as he boxed with a hovering Thunderlane, who could barely keep up.

Scott was interrupted from his internal debate about how much he liked Big Mac by a tap on his shoulder.

“Come on, show me what you got,” Vinyl said. Her shades gone, she stood on her hindhooves, pumping her hooves in little circles in a loose boxing stance. Scott shrugged, then hurled his right fist at her. Vinyl rolled to the outside of his punch and clocked him in the cheek, staggering him back. He stood and stared in confusion at the little unicorn bouncing lightly on her hindhooves. Vinyl smirked at him and wiggled her brow. With a grin, Scott went back at her.

To the untrained eye, they might have looked as if they had trained to fight. And to some degree, they had: Vinyl had spent time in a few fighting leagues, and Scott had his military training. To someone who had even a passing knowledge, they were amateurs. She had never been formally trained, and she actually had some bad habits. Scott’s training, meanwhile, had drilled the concept that fighting was less about winning, than it was about surviving long enough for your buddies to show up.

It wasn’t long before Scott could tell she was getting tired, but honestly, so was he. He just wasn’t into the fight anymore, and wanted it over. Scott seized her forehooves and planted his leg behind her back hooves. Pushing her over, they both fell to the floor with a flop. He rose up into a mount, and swung an arm back for one final, half-hearted strike. He paused, his stomach dropping when he noticed her horn glowing blue. A flying table covered in the same blue glow slammed into the side of Scott. The human rolled across the floor until he came to a rest by the front door.

Scott couldn’t be sure if the room was spinning from the blow he had suffered or the beer in his system. A dull throbbing emanated from his face and knuckles, and he was pretty sure he could taste something metallic-y. Scott was not looking forward to being sober. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, content to just lay there. When suddenly: unicorn face.

“You okay, guy?” Vinyl asked. Her face was ragged, sporting a couple bruises along with a trail of blood from her nose.

“Please don’t hit me anymore,” he said. Vinyl returned a small smile and reached out with a hoof. Glancing at the offered hoof, he gripped it and pulled himself to his feet with her help. The two of them turned their attention to outside the front door when they heard a whistle.

No longer fighting, Equestrians outside were running in every direction in a panic. What had garnered Scott’s and Vinyl’s focus though were the policeponies wearing blue shirts and black belts lined with pouches around their waist. Octagonal captain hats sat atop their heads, while some wore black baseball caps.

“Oh. Shit,” Scott mumbled, just loud enough for Vinyl to hear. All the violence and running around had gradually eaten away at his buzz. The sight of those black and blues finally sobered him up, his buzz crashing like a house of cards. He was now acutely aware of where he was at that moment, along with how truly boned he was. “Twilight and Applejack are going to kill me.”

Scott jumped back when Vinyl grabbed the door and slammed it shut. At the same time, she levitated over a chair, then wedged it under the doorknob.

“Everypony! Stop!” Vinyl hollered at the top of her lungs.

The entire room ground to an absolute standstill. Ponies halted mid-punch or kick. Others had stopped grappling on the floor in a tangle of limbs. The only sound was the static and rhythmic skip at the end of a vinyl record. One stallion was biting the leg of a mare sitting on his back twisting his hindhoof, while Rainbow Dash stood over them with a chair raised above her head. Applejack had Cruncher in a headlock as he grappled with Mac and sat on Thunderlane. Scott and Vinyl edged back defensively as everyone stared back at the two, unblinking. Being the complete focus of a sea of large eyes was kind of creepy.

Scott bumped Vinyl with an elbow. “Oh, uh, right… The cops! Cheese it!”

For the second time that night, the room exploded into motion. Panicking Equestrians ran every which way in confusion. Ponies that had had somepony pinned to the ground were now helping that somepony up. Pegasus ponies were trying to fly out through the skylights. The more intoxicated of their numbers, like Thunderlane, were having a bit of trouble. One of the more successful pegasi left a rainbow color trail in her wake.

“Scott! We gotta git ya out of here!” Applejack slid to a stop next to him, with Big Mac not far behind. The last thing they wanted to deal with was cops. Cops liked asking petty questions like: ‘Where are your immigration papers?’ and ‘How’d you get in the country?’.

“There’s a backdoor, it’s where I brought my stuff in,”  Vinyl said.

The four of them rushed off, weaving and dodging through the torrent of equines for the back. There, they discovered they were not the only ones to figure on a backdoor. A small, tightly packed crowd was congregated in front of a hall that lead out the rear. Vinyl spotted Pinkie Pie hopping in place behind the mob, trying to see the exit.

“Pinkie, what’s going on? Why aren’t these ponies moving?” Vinyl asked.

“I think the backs blocked off with cops,” Pinkie said. “Where’s Twilight and Rainbow Dash?”

“Ah saw Dash tear ass through the ceilin’,” Applejack said.

“Is there any other way out that’d avoid the cops?” Scott asked. He didn’t like the thought of deserting anyone, but he just really didn’t see any other choice.

The Equestrians were starting to get their act together by now and stop panicking, with most taking their chances with the front door. The sound of breaking glass signified that windows had also become a valid exit. So the phrase ‘getting their act together’ may have been relative.

“Maybe we can get out through the second floor,” Pinkie said. She was referring to the skyways that seemed to litter the town, though she didn’t know if the Rusty Horseshoe had one. It was the only thing that came to mind which might allow them to completely avoid the police.

The growing group sprinted over to and up the stairs to the walkway. Scott stopped at a set of double doors. While the ponies kept moving on to check the rest, he threw them open to be greeted by a large office: more than likely the owner’s, if the opulence was anything to go by. The only thing he noticed was the tall paneled window across the room. The two halves opened like French doors and faced a similar window across the alley. Quickly leaving the room behind, he returned to the walkway to see if anyone else had had better luck.

“Well?” Scott asked, coming to a stop next to a hall table.

“No good,” Big Mac said.

“Scott!?”Twilight yelled. They all looked down below and caught sight of Twilight standing on a table looking around. Scott had never thought he would be so happy to lay eyes on the persnickety bookworm. Scott’s relief was ruined when a policepony came barreling through the front door blowing a whistle. Twilight panicked at the sight and her horn flared to life, climaxing with her vanishing in a flash of purple.

“Fuck this!” Scott grabbed a brass vase off the hall table before doubling back. He ran into the office again, with the ponies practically tripping over his feet as they followed.

“Scott, what are ya doi—,” Was all Big Mac managed to say.

With all his strength, Scott hurled the vase at the window across the room without stopping. The vase’s mass and speed allowed it to easily smash through the window; the vase, glass, and wood all fell to the alley below. Scott planted his foot on the window sill and jumped. Soaring across the alley, he wrapped his arms in front of his face and turned himself sideways. The windows swung open violently from his impact with a few glass planes cracking. He landed with a less than graceful stumble and went tumbling across the room into some filing cabinets.

The ponies stood in the doorway with their mouths hanging open. Big Mac was the first to recover; he broke into a gallop and jumped the alley, with the others following behind soon after.

Sheriff Long Arm was not having a good night in the back alley. The plan had been to go through the back to break up the fight and scare everyone off through the front. With only a dozen officers, he didn’t have the horsepower to arrest too many. Unfortunately, someone had gotten overzealous and moved too early out front. Now ponies were destroying the place to get out.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” He muttered. The thought of the conversation with the mayor tomorrow was already tiring him.

Long Arm and the officers with him jumped at the sound of a glass shattering nearby. Looking over, he saw a brass vase hit the ground in a shower of broken glass. He jerked his head up just in time to barely catch sight of Scott, though he didn’t know what he was, disappear into the other building. A couple seconds later, ponies started jumping the gap in a continuous line. Long Arm sighed.

“You two,” he barked. He pointed at a pair of earth pony officers. “Go around front and detain them. You—,” he pointed at the only unicorn officer, failing to notice Pinkie listening in while jumping the alley in physics-defying slo-mo. “—shield that up.”

The two earth ponies took off, while the unicorn focused on the window. The unicorn’s horn was enveloped in an orange glow, proceeded by a translucent wall of orange covering the window. Ponies began piling into the shield, causing it to bulge out more and more, their faces squished up against it. The translucent glow snapped back, hurling the ponies back into the office. The general sound of a lot of expensive things being broken, which was somehow distinct from the sound of cheap things, echoed out of the room.

Long Arm facehoofed with a groan.

“They’re sending cops around front. We have to hurry!” Pinkie said. Everyone whipped their heads about in a frantic search for the room’s exit.

“There!” Applejack jabbed her hoof at a doorway to stairs in the corner.

With Scott in the lead, they all ran to the opening. The second Scott noticed the stairs had two handrails, he hopped on top of them and slid down the rails spread-eagle. The ponies leaned back on their haunches as they slid down on their hooves.

“Whee!” Pinkie cheered as she slid down backwards.

As soon as Scott hit the floor, he quickly got his bearings of what was apparently a restaurant, if the tables and chairs everywhere were anything to go by. Spying the front door, he sprinted over and quickly unlocked it. Scott flung the door open before ducking back in and off to the side. Without saying a word, he gestured wildly with a swiping motion to the ponies. The ponies slid to a stop and scrambled away from the doorway. Just as the last pony inside found a place to hide, the sound of hoof-falls at a galloping pace approached them.

“Hey, the door is open,” an officer said.

“You think they already made it out?” the other officer asked.

The fleeing party-goers’ hearts began to race when one of the officers walked up and listened for any sounds at the door’s threshold. Twitches barely visible to the eye now felt like they belonged on a cheerleading squad. Beads of sweat formed on Scott’s forehead while he tried to breathe as shallow as possible. What was fifteen seconds at most felt like hours as time seemingly crept to a standstill. Everyone collectively held their breath when the officer groaned.

“I don’t know, you want to look around?” In the background, the commotion from the bar could still be heard.

“Screw it. Let’s head back.” Swinging the door shut, the two cops ran off.

Scott eased himself up and peeked through the corner of the door’s window, trying to expose himself as little as possible. The sound of hooves tapping against the floor drew his attention. Scott glanced back at Big Mac as he approached, noticing a few other ponies as well. He was surprised to see Digit Cruncher huddled behind a table with a passed-out Lucky and Caramel stacked next to him. Vinyl was peeking over the counter with a pony he had never seen. In fact there were at least as many ponies he didn’t recognize as he did. Scott held a finger to his lips, to which Big Mac nodded.

Slowly, Scott opened the door and stepped into the night. Every step he rolled on the outside edge of his shoes. He crept close to the ground, using the chairs and tables of the restaurant’s outdoor dining area as concealment, while panning his head left and right. Twice he abruptly stopped and listened before moving again. In the middle of the street, figuring the coast was clear, Scott relaxed and stood.

Officer Shortstop was flying above the bar lazily shooing pegasi off. The rookie cop’s first couple of weeks had been lacking in ways to prove himself. No robbers to catch, no cases to solve, none of it, just a lot of desk duty and patrols. When the entire force had been called out to deal with a bar fight, he thought it might finally be his moment.

Then the sheriff went and slated all the pegasi to aerial crowd dispersion.

Short Stop was snapped out of his sulking by the breaking of glass directly below. Looking down, he was greeted to the sight of ponies jumping to a different building and his fellow ponies in uniform running off. He glanced around, checking if the other pegasi police ponies were likely to notice him sneak away from his post. Seeing that they were more preoccupied, Shortstop drifted over to the front of the restaurant just as the earth ponies bolted out of the alley.  He furrowed his brow when, after investigating the area and shutting the door, they took off.

“Did they already get away?” Shortstop thought. His breath caught when the door slowly opened and he watched a tall biped sneak out of the door.

“This is perfect!” Shortstop was filled with joy at the thought of catching a suspect that had eluded two seasoned officers. There would never be a better chance to move out of the ranks of ‘rookie.’

Steeling himself, Shortstop kept as quiet as he could; using an updraft to hover, he set up behind Scott. Twice he had to flap his wings and twice he thought he had given himself away when Scott stopped. Once Scott exited the outdoor dining area, Shortstop pulled his wings back like a bird of prey and dove down. Scott turned around right as Shortstop performed a hard landing between him and the restaurant. A plume of dust rolled out along the ground from Short Stop’s high-speed landing. At the officer’s sudden arrival, Scott fell on his back in surprise.

“Don’t move! You’re under arrest!” Shortstop said, with an internal squee of a little girl. “So cool.”

Scott leaned back on his arms, unmoving. The panic in his eyes was  evident as he stared at the pony in uniform. Short Stop didn’t find it odd when Scott’s eyes widened even further before he curled into a ball. In his hubris and inexperience, Shortstop had forgotten one very important thing.

Scott hadn’t been alone.

Short Stop grunted out when he was slammed into from behind. He found himself being carried at speed toward the door across the street. With a smack, the door flung open as he was sent rolling into the house. The wall shook when he collided with it, coming to a rest propped up against the wall upside down with his eyes spinning. He groaned and shakily rose to his hooves when he noticed the presence of someone else in the house.

“Sorry, citizen. I—,” Shortstop froze when he finally got a good look at what he had interrupted.

Mood candles littered the various flat surfaces and floor, their flickering light glowing softly. Endless lines of smoke trailed from lit incense sticks set on a coffee table. Granny Smith suspended in air by a web of ropes, pulleys, and straps with old Mr. Wobbles pulling on the rope’s ends. Nobody moved in the deafening quiet. Short Stop’s eyes had shrunk to pinpricks. His brain unable, or unwilling, to form a coherent thought. The elderly couple stared back in surprise before they shared a glance. Granny was the first to move with a furrow of her brow.

“Listen here, youngin’, either quit gawkin’ and get out, or get over here an’ help.”

Scott looked up from the ground at the house; a table wrapped in a blue glow was wedged against its door. Scott got to his feet and turned back to see Vinyl trotting up with her chin held up in pride.

“What’s with you and tables?” Scott asked.

Everyone ducked away when Shortstop burst out of the house. The table flipped into the air and the door slammed shut in his wake. At a speed Rainbow Dash would have approved of, he left a trail of black and blue as he streaked off into the night sky. Everyone stared after the retreating cop, then collectively turned back to the house.

“Sooo.” Scott turned to Vinyl. “Thanks for the save, lady.”

“Aw, no prob’s, guy.” She turned and started off before stopping. With a half turn, she looked back over her shoulder. “Names Vinyl Scratch, by the way. Stop by my store some time and I’ll hook you up.” She didn’t wait for a response before trotting off. Scott shrugged and jogged over to the Apples and Pinkie.

“I’ll make sure to get these two home, Mac.” Cruncher tilted his head toward Caramel and Lucky stacked on his back.

“Thanks, Ah appreciate that,” Mac said. Pinkie and the Apples started walking away at an ever increasing pace as Scott joined them.

“Think nothing of it, old chum,” Cruncher replied to the quickly retreating forms. Cruncher moseyed off in the other direction humming a tune to himself, while Scott and the others were all but running from the scene. All of them were eager to put as much distance between themselves and the town as soon as possible.

It was afternoon the next day, and the girls all sat around the Apple’s living room focused on a nervous Scott and Big Macintosh. With the exception of Rarity and Fluttershy, everyone was sporting a nasty collection of bandages and bruises. Twilight hadn’t earned hers from the fight, as no one had been able to lay a hoof on her. Hers had come from when she teleported to her tree-house. In a panic, along with her buzz, she miscalculated and wound up ten feet above her home. Not being a good enough flier, she fell and bounced through the branches to the ground.

While riding the tail end of truly horrible hangovers, Big Mac and Scott had gone through the events that led to what would forever be known as: The Incident. The conversation jumped back and forth between the two as they helped each other fill in the blanks of their spotty memories. Now they were awkwardly awaiting the girls to say something, quietly wishing they had chosen to sit. The worst wasn’t the silence, but the lack of reaction. The entire time, none of the girls had listened with anything other than neutral expressions. It wasn’t until Applejack stood up with a friendly smile that Scott and Big Mac realized they should have let the cops catch them.

“Sounds like y’all had a humdinger of a time last night,” Applejack said. Her voice was calm and sweet as she walked up to them with a face to match. Scott cringed, along with Big Mac, and leaned away from her. “That’s good.” Her sunny disposition twisted into one of righteous fury. “Because you’ve gone an’ caused so much goddamn trouble Ah don’t know where ta begin!”

“Do you know how much damage was caused to the bar?” Twilight asked.

“That wasn’t directly our fault.” Scott held up a finger.

“You ruined our night out,” Rarity said.

“See previous answer?”

“What about when you threw me into the bar-back?” Rainbow Dash asked.

“Self-defense,” He said. “Also: ha ha.” Dash narrowed her eyes and frowned, her wings bristling.

“Or when you smashed up the office and the restaurant next door?” Pinkie asked.

“Technically, breaking a window is not ‘smashing up,’ and I didn’t break anything in the restaurant.”

“Well. What about all those poor ponies you hurt?” Fluttershy asked.

With a flat look, Scott lifted his shirt to reveal a veritable painter’s palette of purples, blues, yellows, and reds that covered his body. With the exception of Rainbow Dash and Applejack, the girls winced at the sight.

“Ah don’t care what 'cha gotta say. Ah’m gonna work ya so hard tomorrow, ya’re gonna be sore for a month!” Applejack said.

“Are you hitting on me?” he asked, followed shortly by a blink. “Wow— did I really say that?”

Big Mac made himself as small as possible and edged away from Scott, convinced that whatever was about to happen would have some sort of kill radius. Applejack slowly rose to her back legs to stare into his eyes.

“Keep yuckin’ it up while ya can, cause tomorrow--” She grabbed his shirt and yanked him so close he could feel her breathe. Scott gulped as her voice carried an uncharacteristic, dangerous edge to it-- “You. Are. Mine.”

Big Mac held his head low with a grimace as he tried to slink away with his tail tucked.

“That goes for you too, mister.” She turned on her brother and dropped back to all fours. Big Mac sighed before straightening up. He turned and opened his mouth only for Applejack to cut him off. “Ah don’t want ta hear it. An’ don’t think Ah’ve forgot about yer idiot friends. Ah’m sure Dash an’ Twilight would be more than happy ta get Thunderlane an’ Lucky out here.”

“I think the town can do without one of their clerks for a day,” Twilight said.

“Thunderlane is all yours,” Rainbow said.

“To be fair, It’s not like we told them I can’t go into town and they were like, ‘fuck that’ and dragged me out,” Scott said. He ignored Fluttershy’s wince at the curse word. “They didn’t do anything wrong; it was all on us.”

Scott didn’t know why that seemed to mollify most of the girls, nor did he care; he was just happy it had. The truth was, he had pleasantly surprised them by sticking up for the others and accepting the blame, or at least taking the fall. Twilight looked at each of the girls in turn, wordlessly debating sparing the others. One by one, each of the girls nodded back except Dash, who shrugged. Lastly, Applejack pressed her lips and, albeit reluctantly, nodded her head.

“Fine, just you two then,” Twilight said. Twilight stood, the others following suit, and without so much as a glance back, all the girls filed out of the room with their noses in the air.

Mac flopped down onto the couch with a sigh and, sitting back like a human would, stared up at the ceiling. Scott joined him on the couch and did the same thing. The grandfather clock ticking away was the only sound that keep the silence at bay. With his hands folded on his lap, Scott tapped his thumbs together in sync with the ticks of the grandfather clock. Every so often, he occasionally glanced over at his partner in crime. A good minute passed before either of them said or did anything.

“Hey, Mac,” Scott said.

“Yeah?” Big Mac asked.

“I’m hungry. Think Applejack could cook us something?” Scott asked.

Big Mac buried his face in his hooves and whimpered at Scott’s indifference to the level of dog-house they currently found themselves.

“What?”

The Pony-razzi Act 1

In the early afternoon, Spike worked alone in the library. The little purple dragon worked the duster over the shelves of books and hummed to himself a jaunty tune. The front door opened, and in walked Twilight and Rarity.

“Have a nice time at the spa?” Spike asked, staying focused on the shelves.

Twilight levitated off her saddlebags and unceremoniously dropped them off to the side. She trudged across the room over to a couch and flopped onto her stomach.

“What’s up with you?”

“The Spa sisters asked about you-know-who,” Rarity said.

“And that’s worse than usual because?” Spike walked over to Rarity and folded his arms.

In the weeks since the fight at the Rusty Horseshoe, word had spread that the new princess had been involved. When Twilight tried explaining that she only went back for her friends, a few ponies asked if that extended to the creature the Bearers had been seen talking to before the fight broke out. Twilight had responded in a less-than-composed manner and denied it. Naturally, the gossip mill smelled blood in the water and started churning out rumors about what the Princess had to do with a mysterious stranger.

“The sisters don’t usually ask their customers about their personal lives based on gossip. It’s bad for business. For the sisters to ask means it’s starting to be taken at face value.” Rarity rolled her hoof in the air. “More or less.”

“Shouldn’t this have blown over by now?”

“A princess possibly hiding her gentlecolt caller is just too big of news to let go that easily, I’m afraid.”

Twilight subconsciously flicked her ears at ‘gentlecolt caller’. Part of her would’ve preferred the rumor had to do with interdimensional aliens.

“Quite honestly, I’m surprised the tabloids haven’t come snooping around.”

Spike and Rarity paused, each in their own thoughts. Swarms of money-grubbing, unscrupulous reporters and photographers flocking to Ponyville. All of them clamoring to catch Twilight with her secret boyfriend, hoping to get the all-important money shot. Whether that phrase was nonsexual or yes-sexual would depend on which reporter you asked.

“What are you guys going to do, then?” Spike asked.

Twilight stifled a sigh. A princess’ work was never done. “Rarity, can you do me a favor?” Rarity nodded. “Go see if Fluttershy can meet me out to the farm.”

Twilight stepped outside and wobbled into the sky. She still had a ways to go towards calling herself a capable flier. Regardless, the joy of the wind through her wings was hard to deny, and it allowed her mind to drift off her current predicament.

“Princess!” Thunderlane called out. He zipped her way, closing in from behind her.

Twilight didn’t immediately recognize the voice; a sense of dread welled up at the prospect of another curious gossiper.

“Princess Tw—.”

“I am not having an affair! So why don’t you f—.” Twilight spun around. “Oh! Thunderlane, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.”

Thunderlane waved her off, unworried as ever. “No prob’s, Princess.”

She returned to heading for the farm, with Thunderlane following along. “Thunderlane, you can just call me Twilight. I prefer it, in fact.”

“Aw, sweet! I’m on a name-to-name basis with a princess.”

The excitement he extolled brought a ruby tint to her cheeks. “What can I do for you?”

“I saw you heading out toward the country and was wondering if you were going to see Scott.”

“Yes I am. Why?”

“Called it. I better go with you,” he said. “You know, just in case he tries something.”

She eyed him up and down. Thunderlane had always stood in stark contrast to Lucky and Caramel. The two less than thrilled, at being dragged into one of the Bearer’s escapades. They wanted as little to do with their guest as possible.

“So the real reason is…?”

“Trying to get out of work.”

“Ah.”

Scott sat in the kitchen of the Apple home. Meanwhile, Applejack moved about the messy countertops and cooked up baked goods. Caramel bubbled on the stove while bowls and eggshells littered the flour-covered countertop. The kitchen was awash with the smell of half-finished foodstuffs.

“—and this here is an old family fritter recipe.” Applejack grasped a ladle between her fetlock, pouring a dollop of gooey filling onto toasted pastry squares. “Great-great-uncle Apple Seed won it in a game of kur-noodle. That’s a game where ya stand one hoof and—.”

Scott found there were a few niceties of talking with Applejack as opposed to Big Mac. The big pony could be difficult to read and quiet. The lack of feedback, at times, made conversation clumsy and awkward.

“—an’ ponies from all over Equestria would come ta watch old Blacksmith kur-noodle. Then one day, old great-great-uncle Apple Seed shows up—.”

Applejack was more transparent and energetic. The adventures she’d gone on and places she’d traveled gave her a veritable cornucopia of interesting stories.

“—ya never seen so many shucked chickens. Ponies were a hootin’ an’ a hollerin’ something fierce by the time they reached the pig flagon—.”

The flipside was Applejack had a terrible habit of talking at him instead of with him. Years of one-sided discussions with Big Mac had taken their toll. In these moments, Scott simply bounced in and out of the conversation, to preserve his daily limit of fucks-to-give.

“—do ya know what old great-great-uncle Apple Seed said?”

“I do not.”

“He said ‘that’s how a boat sails.’!” She laughed. “Can ya believe it?”

“I can’t believe I made it through that whole story without slitting my wrists.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue. She shoved a bowl into his chest, saying, “Here, make yerself useful an’ beat these eggs.”

Whisk and bowl in hand, Scott did as he was told. A few quick sifts and the whisk broke up the yolks, leaving a uniform yellow liquid. Unfortunately, he developed the motor-skills of an orangutan with cerebral palsy anytime he had anything to do with cooking.

“Scott, Ah said beat ‘em, not sling ‘em everywhere.”

“I’ve never beaten eggs. So sue me.”

“Sorry, Ah didn’t know ya’d never beat anything ‘sides yer dick.”

Scott gave a small smile. “That’s not true. I can also beat faces. Wanna see?”

Applejack took the bowl from him with a good-natured smirk. The eggs went into a bowl of flour before she pointed at the stove, saying, “Ya think you can manage ta take out those pies an’ mix this? Ah gotta hit the little fillies’ room.”

“You have fire insurance, right?”

“Y’all’ll be alright. Ah got faith in ya.” She trotted off for the stairs. “Misplaced as it is.”

“I heard that.”

“Don’t care,” she called down from the stairs.

Having pulled the pies out, he grabbed a hand-crank egg beater. The mix of flour and egg churned to a pale paste with the steady clackity-clack of the beater.  He jerked his gaze up to the front door at the sound of a knock.

“Hellooo,” Twilight sing-songed as she and Thunderlane trotted in.

“Hey, what’s up, you guys?” Scott grinned.

“’Sup, Bro-heim.” Thunderlane hoof-bumped Scott. “I thought I’d come along with the Princess— I mean, Twilight” --he winked at her-- “and see what’s up?”

“You’re looking at it. Pretty slow day around here.”

“Is Applejack here?” Twilight asked.

“Bathroom,” he said. “So what have you been up to?”

While they waited for Applejack, Twilight and Scott made small talk. Thunderlane, meanwhile, edged closer and closer to Scott while staring. Eventually, he stood uncomfortably close to him; Scott tried desperately to ignore him.

“Thunderlane? Um, what are you doing?” Twilight asked.

“I’m waiting for when he does something alien-y,” Thunderlane spoke low and squinted, afraid of missing an important moment.

Scott turned to ‘politely’ tell the pony to beat it. His words died in his throat, however, when Thunderlane perked up and swiveled his ears forward. Scott said instead, “Wow. You’re really hoping something’s going to happen, aren’t you?”

“Don’t hold out on me, dude. You’ve got alien powers, I know it. Is it heat vision? I bet it’s heat vision. It’s heat vision isn’t? It’s—.”

“Laser breath.”

“I knew it,” Thunderlane said, with a hoof-pump. Twilight rolled her eyes while Scott put him in a good-humored headlock.

Scott nearly steered the conversation toward what she needed Jackie for. The sound of the farmer clopping across the ceiling rendered it a moot point.

“Howdy, Twilight and Thunderlane.” Applejack trotted to her original spot, sliding the bowl over from Scott. Inspecting his mixing job, she smiled. “Not bad, ya got it just thick enough.”

“Yeah?” A little pride in his voice.

“Yep, ya did good.” She ruffled his hair.

“That should feel more patronizing than it does.”

“Applejack, Scott, we need to talk about these rumors,” Twilight said. The mood in the room lost its levity at ‘rumors’.

Applejack paused in her baking to share a worried look with Scott. They didn’t need to be told what rumors.

“Ponies in town are still asking about you and me, Scott. It’s only a matter of time before the tabloids start poking around. We need to come up with a plan of action.” Twilight tried her best to remain as matter-of-fact as possible. Even so, the small bit of accusation in her voice rang through loud and clear, however unintended it may have been.

Scott winced. “Nobody wishes I’d kept my shit together that night more than me, Twilight.”

“I know, Scott, I know. But that’s why I’m here. So we can work this out together.”

Scott huffed with a smirk. The lack of cynicism was par for the course with Equestrians, and he found it, at times, a little jarring. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Telling them separately would let him be more honest about his opinion,” she thought. She tossed her original plan to wait, instead of explaining herself twice. “The focus may be on me, but a number of ponies remember that Applejack approached you first. While you were sitting with Big Mac. I think it would be best if you stayed with Fluttershy.”

“So, y’all reckon the tabloids are gonna figure Big Mac and I know something and come snooping ‘round here?” Applejack asked.

“If the ponies in town have put the pieces together, we can count on the tabloids to do so as well. They’ll probably stop by to ask questions, at least.”

Scott ran his hand through his hair. “What about staying with T-lane here?”

“Dude, that’d be like, totally sick!” Thunderlane’s elation died away as he rubbed the back of his head. “But I got roommates.”

“Don’t ya still live with yer ma an’ pa?” Applejack raised an eyebrow.

“Roommates. I still live with my roommates.”

“What about the other guys?” Scott asked.

“Caramel has roommates, too.”

“Are those regular roommates,” Scott asked Applejack while he jabbed his thumb at Thunderlane, “or his roommates-of-shame?”

“The shameless ones.”

“And Lucky.” Thunderlane glared at the smug pair. “He’s got a crazy landlady. She does, like, random inspections to make sure he’s not sharing his place n’ stuff.”

“The rest of the girls’ homes double as a place of business, and Dash’s home is made of clouds.” Twilight tilted her head. “What’s wrong with Fluttershy?”

“I know she is your friend and all, but… well. It’s just from the few times I’ve met her, I don’t know if we’d get along.”

“Well, at least Fluttershy’s is out of the way enough that you’ll still be able to go outside.” He seemed to relax a bit at that, just not as much as she would’ve liked. “Are you okay with this?”

“Eh, it is what it is. Besides, do we have a choice?”

“You could stay here.” Twilight was less than thrilled at the idea. She would have kept the option to herself, had her motivation for keeping him hidden been more important than to avoid running to Celestia and handling this on her own. “You just wouldn’t be able to go outside.”

“That could work.” The others turned to Thunderlane. “Hey yeah. Me and the guys could stop by and hang out. Bring over movies n’ beer, make it a regular thing.”

Scott nodded and frowned as he gave it some thought.

“Oh, hell naw!” Applejack widened her eyes. “Scott, Ah think ya should go to Fluttershy’s.” At his skeptical look, she continued. “If ya stay here, it’s gonna take ya no time till y’all are bouncin’ off the walls an’ driving me crazy. An’ when that happens, Ah’ll jus’ drown ya.” The others blinked. “Ah won’t want to, an’ Ah reckon it’ll be weird ta explain ta Apple Bloom.” She placed her hoof on his shoulder. “But Ah will.”

Scott chuckled. “Sounds like something my mom would say.” He let his smile fade a bit. “You got a point, though. I guess it’s off to Fluttershy’s I go.”

“We’ve still got to check with Fluttershy,” Twilight said.

Two long hours later, after Thunderlane had become bored and left, Fluttershy finally arrived. Scott waited outside while Twilight went through a rundown with Fluttershy. To Twilight’s mild surprise, Fluttershy had been more concerned about his rowdiness than his status as a predator. After Applejack’s assurance that he was more laid back on a day-to-day basis, Fluttershy agreed, albeit with no small amount of hesitation.

“Don’t ya worry any, sugar cube, y’all’ll be all right. If he gives ya any problems, tell me, an’ Ah’ll bring over ol’ Kicks McGee and smarten him up.” Applejack winked, earning a titter from Fluttershy.

“Um, Twilight?” Fluttershy asked. Twilight smiled as a signal that she was listening. “What about Discord? He likes to stop in for tea sometimes.”

Twilight dropped her head on the table with a groan. “I completely forgot about him.”

“Can ya have tea with ‘em somewhere else?” Applejack asked, with the unspoken thought, “Or maybe not at all?”

“Well, I guess I could. It’s just any time I go with him into town, he causes a scene.”

“Applejack, you think you could let them come out here?” Twilight did her best at massaging away her stress by rubbing her temples.

Applejack nodded, while her grimace made it clear she wasn’t happy about it.

“Thank you, Applejack. I promise we won’t be any trouble at all,” Fluttershy said. “So, um, is Scott coming with me?”

Applejack checked the view out the window. The sun was out of sight, with only a faint golden glow peeking over the horizon. “By the time he packs, it’ll be pretty late. We’ll drop him off tomorrow.”

Fluttershy and Twilight bid their goodbyes while they left the house. Twilight spotted Scott sitting on top of a picnic table and changed course, leaving Fluttershy to depart the farm on her own.

“She said yes.” She stopped beside the table. “Somepony will to take you over tomorrow.”

“Cool.” He nodded as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I won’t be there. So if you have anything else for me, now is the time.”

“She’s clearly tired of this shit.” He waved her off. “Nah, I’m good. I guess this is going to be the last time I see you for a while.”

“Looks that way.”

“Thanks for this, Sparkles,” he said. “I know you got a lot to worry about other than me.”

“Scott, you’re my friend, and I always make time for my friends no matter what, because that’s what friends do for each other.” She shrugged, while he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Besides, I’m the one who actually got the rumor started.”

“Hey, I was thinking about that. Can you use your princess-y powers and shut the papers up? I mean... ‘free speech is awesome’ may have been the rallying cry of my country, but… you know… if it could save you some grief.”

Twilight bit her lip, as it was really tempting. “As a princess, I think technically I can... but it would look really bad.”

“I kinda figured as much.”

The comment about his country got Twilight thinking about his situation. It was odd how, in his company, she often forgot she was trying to prove he was from Equus. Now that she thought about it, he himself rarely, if ever, brought up what he thought was her sending him home. Like a topic that isn’t discussed in polite company, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement to avoid the elephant.

“How are you holding up?” She clambered up and sat next to him.

Scott took a quick moment to realize what she was getting at. “Aw, you know, just taking it a day at a time.”

He looked up. The last of the sun’s light had completely faded, and the sky was awash with twinkling pinpricks of light. A moon so familiar, yet so alien all at once, sat among the stars. The galaxy itself stole the show; a trillion distant suns mixed with gaseous, reddish-brown nebulas to stretch across the sky in a band of light.

“I think your nights would be something I’d miss.”

“Do you not have night skies like this?”

“If you get high enough and far enough from cities… yeah, you can get nights like this.” There was a lull in the conversation. Both were content to sit in silence and watch the tapestry of cosmic wonders.

“After all this blows over, I could bring out my telescope if you like?”

“You’re gonna carry that big monster of a thing out here?” Scott asked. Twilight smirked and tapped her horn. He grinned at that. “Cheater.”

+Twilight's smile faded as Scott went back to watching the sky. The more she had gotten to know him, the more she hoped he was delusional instead of just thinking he was. Her stomach twisted at actually hoping that somepony was delusional. However, at least then he could maybe get help and overcome his condition, return to his family. Him being from where he claimed was so... absolute.

“I ever get my laptop working, and I’ll show you some pictures from the Hubble. That’s a telescope the size of a train car.” He leaned over to her. “In space.”

“Now I know you’re making stuff up.” Her words spoke of doubt, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her desire to go ‘oooh’. “Maybe if somepony would let me try a spell or two.”

“No, you’ll break it.”

“Then we should take it apart first, so I can get a better understanding of how it works.”

“You’re not touching my stuff with your voodoo face magic.” He grinned, knowing full well she would give anything to poke and prod the device. “Besides, your little pony mind couldn't even deal with the complexity of the thing. I’d leave you alone with it for a minute and come back to find you a fucking dishevelled wreck in the corner, speaking in the ancient tongues of the Dark Ones and eating macaroni.”

Twilight giggled in spite of herself. “You are so weird.”

“Yeah, but you laughed. So who’s the real weirdo?”

“It’s still you.”

He smirked at that. Sensing she was still worrying, he reached over and kneaded the base of her neck. She had to admit, his strong, rough hands felt really good. She dipped her head to bring those muscles taut.

“Twilight, it’ll be all right. Shit has a way of working out in the end.” When she didn’t respond, he give her a slight, steady shake. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” She smiled while he pulled his hand back. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Aw.” He waved her off. “Don’t thank me, thank Einstein-Rosen bridges.”

Sensing the conversation drawing to a close, they said their farewells. With a flap of her wings, Twilight wobbled off into the evening air.

“Would you hurry it up? I’d like to get there with a few birthdays left,” Scott said. He rode in the front of the wagon as it bumped along the wood line. The sun overhead was nearing its apex.

Big Mac looked over his shoulder from his position in the wagon’s hitch. “This isn’t fun for me either. Ah could be doin’ somethin’ else.”

“Bullshit, you have no life. Besides, I’m the one stuck back here staring at your giant red baboon ass.”

“Y’all staring says more ‘bout you than it does me.” He returned his attention down the path.

“Dude, you got Big Mac smack talking without booze. How’d you do that?” Thunderlane glided alongside the wagon. Why he had showed up hadn’t been made entirely clear. Big Mac guessed he was trying to avoid Rainbow Dash after skipping out of work early yesterday. Thunderlane denied it and maintained that his constant checking of the skies was completely unrelated.

Scott smiled up at the flier. “That’s easy. One day I told him, ‘if you say yep or nope to me one more goddamn time, I’m gonna shove my hand up your ass and work your mouth like a puppet’.”

“Eenope.”

“Ha!” Scott pulled out his Gerber knife and, with a flick of his wrist, snapped the blade out. He stabbed an apple out of the bushels in the back and set about cutting pieces off. “Do you guys know what Fluttershy is like?”

“Well, she’s shy,” Thunderlane said.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Scott rolled his eyes and popped a slice of apple in his mouth.

“She’s got a ton of animals at her house.”

“Ugh, I already hate this.”

“She’s hot.”

“And if she was going to touch my wee-wee, I would care.”

Thunderlane shrugged. “Still nice scenery.”

“Because nothing puts a shy, timid girl at ease like living alone and far from town with a two-hundred pound man who is eye-raping her.”

“Thunderlane, y’all gotta understand, Scott here is sexually confused when it comes to mares,” Big Mac said.

“Hey, hey, hey… shut up.” Scott pointed the knife at Mac. It would have been threatening, except for the piece of fruit stuck on the end. “Thunderlane, don’t listen to him. Unless it’s apples, or kicking trees, or seducing cousins, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about.”

“Dude, you were made fun of a lot growing up, weren’t you? Because you snap off comebacks like nopony’s business,” Thunderlane said. Big Mac stifled a laugh with a snort.

“Never mind that.” He plucked the piece of fruit off the blade with his teeth. “Anyways, I’m not sexually confused. I know exactly where I stand on pounding pony poontang.”

“And that is…?”

“Okay see, it’s like this.” Thunderlane and Mac recognized the tell-tell phrase of incoming bullshit. “I’m torn between the future and the present. I was on a year dry spell back home. Right now, my dick doesn’t care. If given the chance, it would bang a couch if it had a vagina. But, I’m savvy enough to know the minute I finish plowing a local girl, my dick’s going to bugger off and leave me with the shame and regret.”

“Bro, why would you feel bad after getting laid?”

Big Mac glanced back and caught Scott looking his way. They’d had a similar discussion months before, and Scott’s explanation had kind of pissed Mac off. After cooling off, Big Mac explained some ‘social issues’ ponies had had to deal with in the past. He had advised the alien that he might want to keep comments about the parallels between ponies and animals to himself.

“It’s complicated,” Big Mac said.

Scott nodded. “What the big guy said.”

Thunderlane was typically rather oblivious to, well, just about anything not flashy and loud. Still, he was able to pick up on the hint and let the subject die. He landed and laid on the tarp-covered apples in the back of the wagon.

Stabbing the last of slice of apple, Scott flipped the blade toward Thunderlane. “Apple?”

Thunderlane reached out and hesitated, not entirely confident about taking the fruit off the end of a knife in a bouncing wagon.

Scott snatched the slice and held out it in the palm of his hand. “Here.”

As Thunderlane licked the slice up, his long tongue dragged across Scott’s palm. With closed eyes, he happily munched on the tasty snack. “Thanks, bra. That was—.” He paused at Scott’s look, tilting his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

Fluttershy stood out front of her Tolkien-esque cottage with Applejack. The work pony had meant to simply stop by and deliver a sort of cheat sheet about Scott, a few things she’d figured her shy friend could take a peek at when she had a chance, a little something to help smooth everything out, nothing too serious.

“What do you mean by this one?” Fluttershy pointed at a spot on the page.

Applejack leaned over and looked at the item in question through tired eyes. “What it says. He tends ta rub his head when he gets all flustered-like.”

“Okay, rubs head when mad. Got it,” she said. Fluttershy was taking the list very seriously. The list instilled a new found sense of weightiness to the situation and she fretted over every little item. Applejack’s quick stopover had turned into an all-morning event.

“No… jus’ flustered or frustrated. He gets quiet when he's mad.”

“Oh.” The pegasus glanced at the list. “Is that on here?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he eat?”

“Ah told ya, except grasses, whatever a pony can, but he’ll probably ask ya for meat.”

Fluttershy darted her gaze back and forth, up and down the list. “What about this one?” She tapped the sentence.

Before Applejack could answer for the umpteenth time, the sound of creaking wood and popping gravel diverted their attention. She had to hide her relief at finally seeing Big Mac and the wagon coming up the path.

While the ponies greeted each other, Scott hefted his bags of clothes onto his shoulder and surveyed his new home. The house lay nestled near the wood line, and nearly every tree held two bird houses. Their residents zipped overhead constantly with chirps and squawks. Otters played in a creek out front of the dwelling, while deer frolicked in the backyard.

“Hunh. This is kind of nice.”

A woodpecker dove out of a tree and latched onto the back of Scott’s head. In a flurry, the bird began stabbing Scott with its face-shiv like a coked-out, feathery O. J. Simpson.

“Son of a bitch!” He ducked and swung his arms frantically at the avian menace on his head. The bird took flight and zipped off, whistling tweets that sounded almost... cheerful. “Goddamn it, what the fuck?!”

“Oh, my goodness, what happened? Are you okay?” It was a good thing Fluttershy was there to show concern, as the other ponies were too busy trying not to laugh.

“That bird attacked me!” Rubbing the back of his head, he frowned at the others, who were still snickering at him. “You all suck, by the way.”

“What’d we do?” Applejack asked.

“I just got mauled by an animal and you—.” He was cut off by a trio of snorts followed by laughter.

“He said ‘mauled’,” Thunderlane said. “Like it was some bear or wolf.”

“Kiss my ass, that shit hurt.”

Fluttershy lead them into her home. Scott brought up the rear as well as keeping a wary eye on the skies. The interior was an indoor version of what Scott had seen outside: a veritable menagerie of animals scurrying about and out of cubby holes along the walls.

Unlike outside, Scott’s mood had been a bit soured via the wannabe Woody Woodpecker. “Oh, what a wonderful bouquet of animal smells, and that pile of shit in the corner, what a homey touch.”

“What’s that?” Thunderlane asked. He leaned over and gave the list a quick scan.

“Just a list of do’s an’ don’ts ‘bout Scott,” Applejack said.

“You might want to add: don’t lick him. Seems to get pretty upset about that.” He rubbed his sore shoulder.

“That… shouldn’t be a problem,” Fluttershy said.

Applejack raised an eyebrow back at Scott.

“Don’t ask.” He turned to Fluttershy and asked, “Where am I sleeping?”

“Up the stairs, first door on the right.”

Scott ambled off for the second floor.

“You can use my room. I’ll just sleep down here on the couch.”

Scott snapped to a stop on the stairs and swivelled towards the couch.

“You don’t have to sleep down here. I really don’t—.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Okay.”

Big Mac cleared his throat, gaining Scott’s attention. He signaled, with his eyes, over his shoulder to Fluttershy, who was doing her best to hide behind her mane.

“Right. She’s sensitive.” Scott exhaled, reeling in his temper. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap, Fluttershy.”

She peeked out from behind her mane with a small smile. “That’s okay.”

“Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Scott turned to Big Mac, dropping his bags.

“Eeyup.”

“I’ll see ya when I see ya.” Scott got down on a knee, and they wrapped an arm each other, punctuated with a couple manly pats. Before Scott stood, Big Mac nuzzled him. He barely prevented himself from flinching away from the contact of the soft nose on his cheek.

The act was a planet-wide thing similar to a hug, with a more personal implication, but was considered nonsexual. Big Mac often forgot that it weirded out Scott; it was just that ingrained into pony culture. To make matters more complicated, or worse depending on your view, refusing it was considered rude and spiteful.

After a conscious effort and some self-awareness, Scott had made significant strides towards not overreacting since the first time it had happened. He still felt bad about Big Mac’s bloody nose.

“God, that is strange.” He glanced at Applejack. “I guess you’re gonna want a hug, too?”

“Oh, c'mere, ya big galoot.” She rose up to her hind legs and gave him a squeeze, her head draped over his shoulder. “Y’all take care now.” She leaned back to look him in the face. “Ya listen ta Fluttershy, an’ don’t give her a hard time, ya hear?”

“Yes, dear.” The only crack in his façade of indifference was the bob of his Adam’s apple. Saying bye to the Apples all morning was proving surprisingly hard. No one enjoyed a teary-eyed Apple Bloom. And no one enjoyed a horny Granny Smith trying to sneak in an ass-grab during a hug.

“We might try an’ stop by if we can.” She dropped back to all fours and trotted out the door with her brother.

Thunderland trotted up and sat up on his hunches, holding his forelegs out wide.

Scott blinked. “No.”

“Come on, bro.” He wiggled his hooves towards himself. “Bring it in.”

Scott jerked his arm back with a clenched fist.

With a yipe, Thunderlane bolted for the door. His legs were a flurry of movement as his hooves skittered across the hardwood floor.

With that, Fluttershy and Scott were alone. Scott went about stacking his clothes under the couch. He slowed his pace in an attempt to draw out the busywork. Anything to avoid the inevitable awkwardness.

It was painfully obvious he wanted to be back on the farm, where there was a familiarity and a sense of normalcy. As normal as living with aliens could be, that is. Being uprooted so suddenly to be passed off like some hot vegetable, quite frankly, sucked.

Fluttershy looked on with concern before she smiled at him. “I’m going to be outside taking care of some of my animals. You’re welcome to join me. If you like that is, not that you have to. I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“Easy. I'm good; do your animal thing.”

“I’ll be outside. You take all the time you need to get settled,” she said, and slipped out the door.

He sat on the couch and ran his hand through his hair. He could already tell tiptoeing around her sensitivity was going to get old. While it was easy to sympathize with the meek and quiet over the confident and loud, the constant effort to show restraint could be exhausting for the latter.

He noticed a pervasive disquiet in the room. He slowly panned his head side-to-side. All around him, birds of all shapes and sizes stared. They didn’t blink or move; hell, they didn’t even seem to be breathing. They just stared unendingly, their eyes boring into his very soul. Judging.

“She could use some help.” His awkward stride for the door was a balance between strolling out in a manly calm and running in a shameless panic. Though he didn’t dare look, he could feel every gaze following him. He was sleeping with his knife under the pillow tonight.