Time for a little chat...
The two of them walked down the sidewalk in Manehattan toward the meeting she had been dreading all this time, the cold winds blowing about them through the artificial canyons of tall buildings. As they walked, he leaned against her, lending a presence of support and camaraderie to her, trying to calm jangly nerves. Besides, it helped keep them warm.
“You know this isn’t about being the new Royal Mailmare, right? These ponies are PREDATORS, they almost ruined Lyra,” she said crossly.
“S' okay, luv,” he said reassuringly. “Put in just the right way, with just the right emotion, and they'll go for it like Sontarans to battles. Predictable, they are.” He smiled, showing almost acres of brilliant teeth. It really was one of his best features out of a list of them. Under the right circumstances, she could almost hear a *ting* come from the reflected light off of them.
This was not one of those times.
“Lyra said almost the same thing, up until the time they ran her through the blender. The Canterlot Symphony almost FIRED her over her little incident, remember?” She sighed ponderously. “The only reason she escaped it was because PRINCESS Twilight Sparkle intervened directly, mentioning rather pointedly that the absolute best harpist in all of Equestria is with them, rather than the Trottingham Orchestra, who would sell several newborn foals to sign her. It took an Alicorn to redirect that story about fixated obsession into harmless fantasy, and fast talking to imply such an artist like Lyra deserves some leeway.”
“Well...” he said, nonplussed. “Suppose so, I guess... I'll be back soon as I can. Mustn't keep important ponies waiting. I’d be there, if I could.”
“Well, you can’t…they’d be trying to have you arrested, if they could find a way to keep the story all to themselves, at least before publication. Not having you around helps…at least, for now.”
They stopped in front of a three-story brownstone, with the words, “Equestria Monthly” emblazoned across the front, in large, and intentionally intimidating, expensively back lit lettering.
"It's a rag, but a very well capitalized and widely-distributed rag,” she said, as she surmounted the first step. He gave her a gentle peck on a cheek.
“Allons-y,” he said warmly. She smiled, climbed the steps, tugged open the heavy glass door and went in.
"Hello...I'm Miss Doo-Smith. Mister Slug Line is expecting me.”
The professional-looking female receptionist in the nondescript business attire watch-dogging the desk had turned a narrowed eye to the grey mare as she was walking up to the desk. Derpy had a brief and disturbing mental picture of her acting just like an ill-mannered dog would on her mail route, either barking in a frenzy at the interruption of her personal space, or just all out biting her. Frowning, the receptionist stared into her eyes for a second, before doing like most everyone else...focusing her attention on the bridge of her muzzle between them as they shifted a bit. Well, at least that was normal. Derpy smiled brightly, though she didn’t feel much like it.
The watchdog consulted her prominent and meticulous appointment book, one specifically and grandly made up to make important ponies feel even more so, and the more normal sort of pony feel inadequate. It had a subtle effect. Derpy worked to shake it off.
The mare stood up, placed an engraved desk sign with, “Will return shortly. Please wait here,” on the desk, and coolly took in Derpy by eye. “Please, follow me,” she said, walking into the office area.
Derpy followed meekly, taking in all the cubicles of the real writers in their little drab boxes, grinding away on various pieces of copy, before reaching the doors to the important office spaces where the stars of the magazine could actually get some light from the windows, though they avoided Celestia’s sunlight like most roaches did. The receptionist opened the partition door, brought her into the sanctum sanctorum.
She led Derpy to a very nice office with one of those windows overlooking the street below, rather impressive and expensive art…and stuffed with hidden state of the art cameras and digital recording systems. A rather bright yellow Earth pony stood up as Derpy was ushered in, the watchdog closing the door behind her with a haughty air.
Slug Line said, “Oh, hello, welcome, Miss Doo,” as he came around the broad desk. Derpy shook the proffered hoof nervously. “Nice to meet you.”
Slug Line went on with a well-practiced and studied approach, one he spent hours practicing in front of the pervasive mirrors in his regular office, well crafted to put ponies at ease before he slapped a bit into their mouth. “I’m with Equestria Monthly, as you already know, and this interview is for our monthly magazine.”
“Oh, okay, fine. I was surprised in your interest in the humdrum life of a simple mailmare. And thanks for the train ticket here. Um, can I ask when will this be out?” Derpy asked, tensely. Here we go, she thought to herself.
Slug line chuckled. “We were planning for this to be published, not next month, but the following one, so as to give us time for layout, throw a couple of pictures in there, edit it down really nice,” he lied smoothly. They were hard-pressed for this story, and wanted it in before the current issue could be bedded down. “Is that fine with you?” he asked disarmingly. Time to rock the little foal to sleep.
Derpy took a small breath, tried to relax. “Oh, I don’t mind, I was just wondering. I’d like to tell my friends just in case…”
Slug Line jumped in on his cue. “Don’t worry about that, Miss Doo, we can send some copies to your friends if you’d like,” he said. Amazing how easy it was to tempt somepony into playing his game, with a little unbalancing, and a hint of minor celebrity. Or notoriety. He smiled brightly, just as he would be expected to at this point.
Derpy smiled. “That would be SO nice of you to do that!”
Slug Line dangled the bait, a nice juicy apple, wiggling it temptingly. “Would you like to start now? Can we get you some water or something before we begin?”
See? I’m your best friend; I’ll take care of you…
They had gotten a twinge from one of the beat reporters that covered Ponyville that something wasn’t quite right out there, though the barbill for one Berry Punch had been considerable. They had to look for some other angle to get their foot in the door around there, because Twilight Sparkle and her little band of merry adventurers wouldn’t come across, though Slug Line thought Pinkie Pie could be tweaked into spilling the goings-on if they worked really hard at it. Then that little field report came across the desk of one of the associate editors, which brought up the subject that some dim wall-eyed mare was sitting on something even bigger than the Heroines of Equestria.
He had jumped at it. As for wrecking Derpy’s life on the way…pfftt. They needed the right kind of story to get his predecessor’s rubble out of ponies’ minds, something even more sensational.
“Water would be wonderful!” she gushed slightly, as she took the chair opposite the immense desk, lowering her defenses slightly. “You know, I was told ponies from the press were totally hardboiled, but you’ve just been incredibly nice to me. I think those ponies were being completely unfair to you…”
The unnoticed associate editor walked out of the room on the way to the refrigerator, though they could easily afford a small one in there. She had more to do than just fetch water.
Slug Line laughed, just so. “We’re used to it, Miss Doo…we get it from both sides. Some think it’s unfair for us to ask hard questions of ponies with things to hide, and others want to use us to promote things for them.” Just enough truth to look like he cared about it.
“Oh, I understand completely,” she said, as the associate editor came back in, giving Derpy a frostily chilled bottle of expensive water, a concession forced from an advertiser that had the tables flipped on them by Slug Line himself, who dug it out that it was actually filtered and bottled municipal water from Fillydelphia, not imported from some wonderfully esoteric mountain stream. They started small though, not asking for much, at least at first, but management had plans to start slowly ratcheting it upward over time. He went full-on with it at the magazine, though, which explained why he had the office of his former boss.
“And thank you ever so much,” she added, as she took it. The associate editor winked the eye away from Derpy’s line of sight at Slug Line, to let him know the equipment was on, working just fine, and the sound and light levels were perfect. He nodded slightly, and she left.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked solicitously, as he settled down for the oncoming battle, though he already knew he could maneuver this silly mare right into the halter. He sat in his expensive chair, moved into here from his normal upstairs office by the facility lackey, and steepled his hooves in front of him.
Derpy sighed, a calm, contented sound. “Perfect. Start now?”
Here we go, thought Slug Line. “If you’re ready.”
“Sure,” Derpy added after a short pause for a drink, which was shockingly frigid. “Ooh, that’s cold! Perfect!”
The associate editor smiled as she watched the live feed in the tech room, not quite so sumptuously appointed as the interview office. In fact, it barely compared to a broom closet, after all the Audio/Visual gear had been added. But she wasn’t paid to be comfortable, a pair of very high-quality earphones on her ears as she watched and listened.
“Let’s start with your name,” Slug Line began helpfully.
Derpy took a deep breath. “Here goes…Ditzarella Derpemina Esmerelda Doo-Smith.”
Slug Line’s eyebrows climbed toward his mane, just as he had planned. “Wow! Quite a mouthful.”
Derpy went on, trying to be helpful. “It used to be Von Doo, but when my family moved away from the Old Country, we dropped that ‘Von’ honorific along the way. We used to be from around Hohenschwangau, but my great, great grandfather needed a change after some political thing happened. The particulars were not something the family discussed, so I never was told why they left.”
“Why so many names?” he asked, though the research department had already combed the records to find out.
“Oh, that…it’s kinda customary in my family to pass names of the patriarchs and matriarchs along to the younger fillies and colts to remember the predecessors. Ditzarella was my Great Aunt on Mom’s side, and Derpemina was my grandmother. Esmerelda was another highfaluting aunt on Dad’s side, but she was always sorta mean and distant to me, so I really don’t care for that one much. Ponies who know me call me Ditzy, which is just fine, but my closest friends call me Derpy.”
“Can we use Derpy?” Slug Line asked kindly, trying to make her comfortable, like part of a family.
Derpy shrugged.“ Well, you’re not close, but friends, right?” she asked, as she extended her hoof again. Slug Line shook it, smiling. “There, Derpy it is!” she declared, laughing.
“Well, that was very nice of you, Derpy. Nice to be friends,” he said cheerfully.
She laughed some more. “I think so, too!” she said, and then took another drink of her water.
“This might be a little sensitive, but friends can talk about this, I think. I’d like to try and get the more, ‘complicated’ things out of the way right up front, he said, standing up from behind the desk, and leaned against the front of it instead.“ I know this might be hard…about your eyes...”
Derpy had long ago gotten over such direct personal questions. She answered it honestly. “Amblyopia. And a little bit of Rainbow Dash in the left one,” she added impishly.
“Rainbow Dash?” How deep was she in with the Mane Six? he wondered silently.
She was laughing. “It’s about twenty percent lazier…” she added, chuckling.
“Oh, I get it now!” he lied, laughing. “That’s pretty funny, considering.”
“I used to get teased about it a lot when I was a filly, but that’s almost stopped nowadays. Growing up changes ponies a lot. I don’t hold grudges.”
“Now, about your employment and work history…just a little background…”
Derpy answered in a disappointed tone. “Well…okay. I started out in a moving company, but…”
Slug Line interrupted. “Yeah, the moving service,” he said, trying to move it along a bit faster, not letting the subject get too much time to think about her answers, or the personal nature of the questions.
Derpy hid her face with her hooves for a moment, upset. “I was supposed to be taking out an anvil, but everything just came out right along with it. I just don’t know what went wrong. The good thing was that Twilight Sparkle was alright afterward,” she said, relieved.
Slug Line pressed on quickly. “…the Town Hall incident.”
Derpy answered plaintively, the painful nature of the memory evident. “I still don’t know went wrong there, either! I followed the procedure manual like I was told to, but the lightning just had other ideas. They were nice about it, didn’t treat me mean or anything, but they couldn’t let me stay. So I went on…”
“And then the mail service,” he added finally. End this on an up tone. Whip her emotions around.
Derpy smiled hugely. “I’m so happy there! They are so nice to me, and helped me figure it out, and guess what? I was delivering a special message once to Canterlot Castle and Princesses Celestia and Luna, and they liked me and wanted me, and made me the Royal Messenger! And I’ve never let them down, not once…”
That wasn't all of it, but she promised...
Slug Line was a bit disturbed about that. No one knew where the line was for not messing in the yard of Equestria’s Diarchy, but he was curious where it might be. He had ponies working the Nightmare Moon angle already, and some vague rumors whispered about Celestia when her mane was lavender or pink. That one was proving harder to run down, but they would keep picking at it, just to see how far they could push it when it unraveled.
Time for something completely different. “Now, about your Cutie Mark. Lots of curiosity about that.”
“Mmmm. I can see that,” she said in a matter of fact manner. “Every pony it seems has all told some ridiculous story about it. I’ve heard about blowing bubbles, playing with bubble wrap, all sorts of silly things.”
“We have, too.” The list was long and imaginative, and only a few were frankly obscene. “Want to set the record straight?” he asked with a smile.
She went along with it, trying to be helpful. “It’s simple. I swim. A lot.”
“Swimming?” Slug Line asked, surprised. That one was NOT on the list.
“Sure. I started when I was very young. I found out swimming was a LOT like flying. In fact, I could swim really fast by just using my wingtips, and I could turn, surface, and dive just like some fish. After I figured out how to hold my breath for a long time, I could just swim and swim and swim…and it helps my flying, too, because it keeps my wings very strong, and I can control my breathing just so. Then one day, ‘POOF’ there were bubbles back there!”
“Do you still swim?” Slug Line asked, intrigued in spite of himself.
“Every chance I get, but not as much as I’d like,” Derpy said. “I have a family nowadays.”
“Ah, yes…Dinky Doo, Amethyst Star, and…John Smith?” he asked consulting a sheet of paper, though he already knew the details perfectly.
Derpy froze a bit, frowning. “Um…”
The associate editor leaned forward, slightly panicked. Too soon. Slug Line felt it too, backed out a bit, went at an angle.
“You were married before?” he asked sympathetically.
“Um…yes. Dinky’s father. He…died. A fire.”
“Widowed?” he asked, turning the sympathy up, looking to connect emphatically.
Derpy replied very quietly. “Yes.”
“Oh,” Slug Line added kindly. “Sorry that that was uncomfortable. My apologies, seriously.”
Derpy let out a quiet sob, shuddered slightly. “It’s okay. Really. Things happen in life. Nothing to do for it but go on.”
“Dinky is what, eight?” Time for a new emotional tactic.
“Almost nine. Clever girl. Bright as a penny smidgen of a bit. Simply brilliant.” Derpy loved talking about Dinky.
“And Sparkler?”
Derpy almost answered completely from reflex about her older filly, the girl that had the unusual speech pattern that Luna was frequently prone to lapsing into. “She’s adopted. John and I decided to adopt her just after we became a family. She’s pretty smart, too.”
“We did a little checking around…”
Derpy replied very calmly. This was a danger point. “Really? She’s not from here. She’s a refugee. Someplace pretty far away, John said. The adoption was handled privately.”
“The paperwork kinda suddenly appeared, almost from nowhere….” Slug Line mused aloud.
“Yes. John handled the details. I was so thrilled to have another daughter, I almost burst,” she said honestly, trying to find an edge to hold on to.
“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course. Well…” he added, as if he wasn’t quite convinced, and needed her to push him over.
She took it. “And she is so happy with us. She took to Dinky right away, helps with homework, all sorts of things. Dinky just adores her.”
“Sure. It must be nice to have a big sister. Even an adopted one,” he added, trying to coax her further out on the ledge.
Derpy answered brightly. “Me, too! I wish I had had one lots of times while I was growing up. Someone to try out beauty products with, clothing,” as she added in a conspiratorial whisper, “…colts.”
“Secrets…” he added, starting to broach the subject gently and non-threateningly.
The mare leaned in. It had to be brought up, of course; that was the story they were really aiming for, not the Royal Messenge bait apple they had dangled. Slug Line was a pro at getting ponies to compromise themselves.
“Of course, those too! I certainly couldn’t talk about colts and such with stuffy old Auntie Esmerelda; she’d faint away dead at the subject! Always having to be so proper and correct all the time…when all you wanted to do was get…”
The mare chuckled in the tiny closet. Girl certainly was loosening up. She could almost smell what was coming…though she would never admit she liked and enjoyed the figurative smell of blood…
Slug Line decided to play the awkward card. “Ah…Miss Doo, if you wouldn’t mind, could we go on to something else?” he asked in an embarrassed tone. Keep her guessing, keep her thinking you’re on her side, he thought to himself.
Derpy looked at him, puzzled. “Oh…OH! Sorry, I got carried away. What were we discussing when I got sidetracked?” she asked helpfully.
“Secrets…”
“Secrets…like what, exactly?” she asked, the conspiratorial tone back.
Time to broach it, gently. “Well…like 'John'…”
“What about 'John'?” she asked, surprised.
“'John Smith'. He’s not exactly like anyone else, is he?” he asked mildly. Let her find her own conclusion.
“In what way?” Derpy asked, confused. “I know Croupwich is far, but it’s not a foreign country.”
Slug Line started the wheedle. “Like, he kind of shows up suddenly out of nowhere. He’s somepony we hardly even know anything about. He’s got a little dodad shop, and he’s a Mister Fixit kind of pony, does the timer at races and such, but we rarely see him anywhere outside of that, Miss Doo.”
“Really?” Derpy asked, perplexed.
Slug Line turned it up a bit. “And the rumors abound, Miss Doo. He’s some kind of secret agent, or government operative. Does special favors for the Princesses. Maybe spies on others. Everypony’s just all upset.” He went all in. “Maybe you can help on that.”
“Well…I really shouldn’t, you understand. It’s very important…”
Slug Line gently pushed even that token resistance aside. “And ‘Important’ is, well, important. But Miss Doo, something so important, ponies would understand. They might even be able to help. We’d like to help him, too.” He added his own conspiratorial line. “Give us a chance too, Miss Doo. Maybe we can do a lot of good as well.”
“Well…” she said. She paused for a considerable time. He dolloped the cherry on top.
“Please?” Moment of truth.
She leaned in toward the screen, a predatory smile twisting her features. The target was taken in, caution splashed to the four winds. Everypony wanted to help; they told her so. She could see now why manticores did what they did. There was a certain pleasure in the hunt…and the kill.
Derpy took a deep breath, blew it out in a sigh as she thought. “Okay. Okay, fine. First, 'John' is not John…”
Got you! Slug Line thought to himself. Now came time to manage the information flow calmly and smoothly, lest they lose the source. He was an old pro at this. “Okay. Somepony else…”
“‘John Smith’ is not his name. He’s called, ‘The Doctor’.”
Slug Line stuttered a bit in his mind, but recovered. “Doctor? Doctor who? Doctor of what?”
Derpy went on. “Just ‘The Doctor’. He’s an alien. Like all those creatures Lyra Heartstrings talks about. The humans? Like those…”
Slug Line barely winced, but it was like he had been pierced by a Royal Guard lance front to back. Lyra Heartstrings was a sore spot around the magazine. “A human?” he asked, though he knew what those were. At least, what they were to Lyra.
“Lyra says they only have very short manes, like on top of their heads, and no fur. Well, there’s hair…never mind. And they only walk on their back hooves, called ‘legs’ and ‘feet’. And they have ‘hands’, not fore hooves. They kind of run around the universe, getting into trouble.”
Slug Line struggled gamely on, though only his expression had cracked slightly. “And this human, ‘The Doctor’...”
“Well, he’s not human…” she added.
“He’s a pony, obviously, and…”
“No, not a pony. A Time Lord…” Derpy said matter-of-factly, like the weather report for today was chocolate milk.
“A Time Lord…?” Slug Line asked despite himself, though he was sure he was definitely on the wrong track now.
Derpy smiled. “Yes. A special kind of alien. He has a ship, called a TARDIS, that allows him to go almost anyplace at anytime in the whole entire universe!”
Slug Line fished around in his mind for a lifeline, trying to square up a pony that wasn’t a pony, or a human that wasn’t a human, totally confused. “A human, er, not human Time Lord who’s a pony, but not a pony, that travels in a ship…”
Derpy continued helpfully, “…called a TARDIS, Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. That goes anywhere, at any time.”
Oh, great, thought Slug Line. Super Wonderbolt Alicorn Powers. “And he, it, what?”
Derpy continued in a calm, rational voice, just like the insane do. “Helps people and ponies. And fights monsters. And travels with companions to all sorts of places.”
Slug Line shrugged helplessly in his head. He’s a taxicab, too. “Um…”
Derpy suddenly started to rush. “But in this here, at this now, he’s a pony. He doesn’t understand completely why. And he hasn’t been able to figure it out, yet, though he’s very smart and clever. The TARDIS decided he needed to come here for some reason. He had to fight some kind of monster that was trying to open a trans-dimensional gateway in my old house. My former husband was some kind of servant to this creature, and allowed it to use his body while building this machine, because my husband was abusive and unkind, and the creature had an affinity for that. And ‘The Doctor’ had to stop the machine and save Equestria from the trans-dimensional gateway, but my husband fought with him, and ended up blowing up the machine, trying to kill ‘The Doctor’, which started the fire, and killed him, of course.”
Oh, of course, Slug line thought to himself. The fire had been ruled accidental. Gas leak. He had the report right on his desk. He stared at her silently.
Derpy took that as acquiescence, kept rushing through it. “So, he’s kinda stuck in this particular trans-dimension, and he’s very sad and alone, and when he saved me from my situation, we kinda fell for each other, and now we’re married, with a family, and he’s still saving ponies, but in this universe, he’s a Time Charger in this reality, and he still has two hearts, and its Gallopfrey, not Gallifrey, and he saved Amethyst when her home was destroyed by a volcano, and we fought the Angel Pony together, and all sorts of strange and wonderful things.”
Slug Line stared at her in silence, shocked.
Derpy was smiling. “Does that help?” she asked kindly.
Slug Line’s brain was trying to start, but the thing just wouldn’t go. “Ummm…”
Derpy kindly reached out and touched his foreleg, as Slug Line tried to shy away slightly. “I’m sure everyone will understand just fine. I was planning to put out a book one day; would you like to read it? If you need to figure out what I’m talking about, you can just look it up.”
“A book?” he asked, unsure over the new direction she had steered the conversation.
“Certainly,” Derpy said happily, taking a drink of her water. “It’s a wonderful story. Has all sorts of emotions and romance and fear and hope and stuff. I don’t have a literary agent yet, but I’m sure you’ll understand the confidentially…”
Suddenly, Slug Line’s brain started. “Oh. Of course, Miss Doo. I’m sure we won’t need to read your book…”
Derpy’s face fell a bit. “Are you sure you don’t want to see my book?” she asked, the conspiratorial tone back.
Slug Line knew how to play this ball. “Well, Miss Doo, we really can’t, not now. With this, ‘story’, there are all sorts of legal ramifications showing up. Our legal is very specific about things like this, and they always suppress articles that might expose the magazine to any possible legal action. I’m really, really sorry about this, your story is a very good one, and it deserves to be heard. Somewhere.”
Derpy looked at him hopefully. “Would you like to option a series of articles? I’m sure I could…”
Slug Line stood up. “I’m sorry, Miss Doo, but I’m afraid we can’t continue at this point, however, I’ll pass this up to our editors to see what they say. They might be able to give permission to go ahead with that.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!” Derpy said happily. “That would be wonderful! Should I drop the manuscript by…?” she started to ask…
Slug Line took one of Derpy’s front legs by the elbow, gently but insistently, and helped her to her feet. “No, no, I think Legal should handle the ball from now on. They’ll be in touch with you soon. Here, let me show you to the reception area…”
She stared angrily at the screen. That imbecilic idiot! she thought, as she snatched the expensive headphones off her head, but with almost no room available, she couldn’t smash them to the ground to vent her spleen. He had her, had her right up inside a blind canyon with her back against the wall and her wings neatly tied up. He could have walked her anywhere inside her life; gotten everything that bizarre husband of hers was up to. If Derpy had the combination to Celestia’s and Luna’s Crown Jewels, Slug could have just asked politely, and she would have flown there, opened the gates, and invited them in for a look. Imbecile!
Slug Line politely, if a bit distastefully, opened the office door, through copy, then the partition one as he walked Derpy into reception.
“Derpy, I really have to talk to my ponies about the Royal Messenger story again, and see if the backstory information is going to be permitted. If we can work it all out, I’ll give you a call again, and we can set up another appointment. They’re real skittish about legal issues around here, and the book and article stuff…I just don’t know yet if they would go for this, knowing there’s an issue.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. Is that what went wrong? I could pretend…” she started to offer…
“No, no, that’s all right. I wouldn’t want to see you get into any trouble. You’re a very nice pony; and I’ll try seriously to see if there’s something we can do.” He let go just a bit too rapidly, stood back from her like she was an angry hydra. With a slightly too forced smile, he gestured toward the door, as she walked to it with a perplexed look on her face.
He looked at the receptionist, jerked his head the tiniest fraction toward Derpy. The receptionist smiled, added her own cheerful goodbye to Slug’s as Derpy walked out, then pressed the button to lock the door, as she made a grand show of marking out Derpy’s contact information in the book with an air of superiority.
Slug, meanwhile, angrily stormed back to the little room and jerked the door open. Reaching in, he first shut off the recording, ran it back to the beginning, then tapped the “erase” button on the digital recorder. The machine dutifully obeyed. So much for that.
“We had her, don’t you realize that?” said the editor, almost shouting in her displeasure.
Slug snorted loudly. “She had us, you dummy! What, you want another fiasco like that aquamarine pony, Lyra, wasn’t it? That ‘Humanworld’ story? We’re still paying royalty on that pulp birdcage liner, and so far, other than a couple hundred of Discord’s worshipers, the only one really buying that article was Lyra herself! And, she gives that content away to her friends and anyone else that will listen for free! Be glad; I just saved this magazine a fortune in legal wrangling and lost circulation. And you better think about something else, right now. Like your job.”
She stared at him, aghast.
He sighed heavily. “Get that pink pony on the phone, we’ll give her a shot…”
Derpy stepped out the doors and down the steps of the brownstone, the doors sighing closed behind her, just before a click of finality. A chestnut stallion in a brown pinstripe suit, green tie, and a pair of red Cons All-Stars on his rear hooves, wearing an outrageously cool fawn trench coat loitered at the foot of the flight.
“Oy! How’d it go, eh?” he said, a spikey shock of dark brown mane drifting on his forehead, the face split into an amazingly huge grin.
“Like you don’t know, clever boy,” she sniffed as she walked by. He took up the pursuit.
“I told you, didn’t I? Never lie where the truth does just as well,” he said, still with the huge grin as he walked alongside her.
She smiled back. “I conservatively estimated the probable losses to Equestria Monthly as somewhere near six figures. One of their most sensational stories, if not the most sensational. ‘Alien pony living amongst us; what does he want, what will he do, will we be safe from him?’ Circulation would have jumped by a tremendous factor, as well as the confiscatory advertising rates they could have charged on the back of it. That would have bought Dinky and Amethyst a lot of things on our percentage.”
“What?” he said loudly, perplexed. “Most would have gone to the solicitors. Besides,” he said, stopping and rubbing a hoof along the back of his head, “…who needs a lot of things, anyway? Money’s rubbish.”
Derpy stopped as well. “I suppose. Besides, you probably have the necessary clothing for growing fillies right there in the TARDIS,” she said calmly, all poise and elegance. She started walking again.
“Well…” he said, again drawing the word out, “Probably in a back room. If they don’t mind the fashion too much. Some’s a bit dated. Or too early. Are bustle skirts still in? Or are they like pears?”
“Oh, you. How’d the meeting with the Princesses go?” she asked warmly.
“Oh, that. Just right. They’ve left me in your capable hooves once more, m’dear. They’d like me to keep an eye on that planetary rotational velocity bit, though. Knowing that Discord put a spell on the planet in the past so it slows down and tying the both of ‘em up trying to raise sun and moon, when all they’re doing is pushing against orbital bodies to keep the planet’s rotation up was a bit of surprise. Almost have that one beat, though.”
“Is L=m*w*r2 that difficult to do? The rotation occurs in an almost completely frictionless environment,” she said, perplexed.
“It’s that Chaos Factor, luv. They have to put the fix in there first, then…oh, yes…watch me work!”
“Yes, dear. And clear your Friday next week, Amethyst has a recital.”
“S’ not needed, luv. We could just pop…”
“Not in that Type 40 TT of yours. How many centuries have you been trying to fix the chameleon circuit?” she said pointedly.
“Not important. Friday? Friday’s fine. I like Fridays,” he said, undaunted.
“And John, you really need to change the fluidic links. Mercury’s a hazard. Think of the children.” She glanced over at him as they walked. “Those Type 52’s would work better, anyway.”
“I suppose. We could stop on the way home for a set.” He pulled his keyring out, tapped a hoof against the keyfob. There was a chirp, and the TARDIS reappeared along the sidewalk. Taking the keyring, he unlocked the door. “Mares first.”
“Such a gentleman today. I accept. But one more thing first.”
She turned around, reached for the dangling cloth around his neck.
“Tie.” She fiddled it, tongue peeking out, as she slid the knot back to its proper place in his collar.
“Perfect,” she said impishly, bussing him one on the end of his nose, before she walked in; she then turned around, stuck her head back out. He almost bumped into her as she stood in the doorway.
“No adventures today, Doctor. This one was quite enough, especially for me. Straight for those 52’s, then home,” she said with a stern expression, as she turned and went back in, a flash of a key on a chain hanging neatly tied into the end of her mane, and a glowing diamond in a ring on her tail.
He followed her inside. “I wouldn’t think of it.” There was a slight pause, then The Doctor stuck his own head out. He caressed the door panel with a front hoof. “Not today, you lovely daft thing. Be a good girl, and we’ll see all about a family outing tomorrow. Tomorrow’s a Saturday. We have such fun on Saturdays!” he grinned, an amazing amount of teeth showing, as he closed the door with a squeeak.
Author's Note
To Paleo Prints, without whom I would still be reading, rather than daring to write...You are an artist with words; Thank You.
