Chatterlips in the cellar

It’s going to be a good day for Chatterlips. For the past five years he’s worked in the palace and he loves his job. As one of the faithful attendants of Princess Celestia, every day always goes off to a bright and sunny start. Just like her. He wonders how she does it.

Today she doesn’t. Chatterlips is waiting outside her room when Celestia emerges. Frowning she slinks out of her royal quarters and slams the door, muttering something about weak creatures that need sunlight to live.

Chatterlips tries not to say anything, he really does. He can see today is going to be a difficult day and Celestia is in no mood for it. But he’s named Chatterlips. And sometimes in the mirror he notices he does have pretty big lips and that makes him sad.

Chatterlips says, “Looks like somepony’s a bit of a sourpuss today!” He immediately slams his mouth shut.

Her eyes meet his. Celestia’s frown deepens. The wrinkles almost make her look her age. She shrieks, “Banished! You’re banished from the castle! The only thing you’ll be guarding now is a cellar!”

He’s not a royal guard but this time Chatterlips doesn’t say anything.

So now Chatterlips has been reassigned to guard the cellar in the basement of the city hall at some coastal town. It’s named Ponysmouth, and its city hall is an old stone tower. Probably because it’s really tall.

The cellar is moderately bright from the one lightbulb and is pretty big. He sits at the base of the stone steps and sometimes he shivers. Not because he’s sad, that really only happens when he looks in mirrors. It’s just a bit chilly down there.

Today nothing happens and when his shift is done he goes back to his room at the town inn. There’s really no one to watch that he does his job but he has nothing better to do. He was also given time forms to record his hours.

Tomorrow when he takes up his post, there’s a hole in the far wall. He spends the first hour staring at it with stiff legs.

A squat wrinkly goblin climbs out. He yelps as he sees Chatterlips.

Chatterlips doesn’t know who he is. He says, “Who are you?”

The goblin looks around carefully, then answers, “You should not have seen me. I’m Chubbins, a goblin. We live on the other side of the walls, in Goblin World.”

“Wow!” Chatterlips exclaims, pressing his hooves to his cheeks. “There’s a whole world of goblins right under our noses?”

The novelty has worn off for Chubbins. “Yeah, sure.” He digs in his raggedy pocket and pulls out some bits of copper and pencil erasers. Holding out in his outstretched palm, he says, “Buy or sell faggot.”

“Oh, I don’t have any money. The Princess took all my stuff away.”

Chubbins swears. “Then go get someone who does. Damn you, I’m trying to run a business!”

Chatterlips thinks carefully about the situation. There is a certain integrity to be maintained, it seems to him. He giggles. “Sorry but I am guarding this cellar. No one can go in or out. But me, when it is time for me to leave.”

“I’m gonna get my crew and we’ll beat you into pudding.”

Chatterlips is daydreaming. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing. Eat a dick.” Chubbins waddles up to him and pushes his hand in Chatterlip’s face. “Buy something, sell something, come on!” His nose is fleshy and has dirty hairs in it.

“Please.”

Chubbins screams, “Want a hairnet? You’ll get a hairnet!” He pulls a hairnet out of his packet, leaps up, and pulls it on Chatterlip’s head. Chatterlips has a blue mane.

Chatterlips sees this. “I didn’t really want a hairnet...”

“Now pay up!” Chubbins does not really care whether the pony wanted a hairnet. He supposes that is a bit greedy but it doesn’t really bother him.

It does bother Chatterlips and he has an epiphany. His hoof raises. “Those not self-conscious and self-willed are constantly acting from self-interested motives, but clothing these in various garbs. Watch those people closely in the light of the sun’s teaching, and they seem to be hypocrites, they have so many good moral and religious plans of which self-interest is at the end and bottom; but they, we may believe, do not know that this is more than a coincidence.”

“I had a crush on my ten year old daughter! I put cum into her pudding!” Chubbins confesses, putting his face into his meaty hands.

“There, there, it’s alright. Thought that isn’t really alright.” Chatterlips places a hoof on the little goblin’s shoulder.”

“Ah, knock it off,” Chubbins says in between sobs. “Or, or, I’ll put pudding in yer ears!” His sobs increase.

Chatterlips is prepared though. He hasn’t forgotten all he learned from observing the princess and he asks himself what she would do. “Put your faith in what you most believe in. Two worlds, one family.” That is what he says to the goblin.

And Chubbins thinks how ogres don’t get time for bathroom breaks. He is a goblin but he thinks of the ogres. One such thing was that the ogres never took any breaks—they never celebrated anything. He now knew that all the ogres cared about was destruction and invasions. They loved to take what didn't belong to them and they loved to cause chaos. Because the ogres were always prepared for whatever whim their bladders could have at any given time, he had to be ready, as well, and he knew shutting his shop would give the ogres the very excuse to try something messy. And, unfortunately, the people around the city weren't exactly keeping his bathroom habits a secret—they believed that their attendance was a small way of showing gratitude toward life. Because of this—even though he had preferred for the bathroom breaks to be a quiet affair—he hadn't been able to stop the entire city from talking. He knew the ogres were aware of the festivities.

It seems to Chatterlips that this troubled soul might have a paranoia complex. That is one the intuitions he is good at picking up on.

“Okay then,” Chubbins says. And with one final glance over his shoulder, Chubbins waddles back to the hole and crawls inside.

Chatterlips goes home that night and does a crossword puzzle.