Insert Human Here

Author's Note: You might be wondering what's up with the “Sex” tag that I added recently. About that, if you're looking for it, there is not much to be found in this chapter, but there will be more in future chapters, and I wanted to give plenty of advance warning. And now, back to your regularly scheduled fiction.

“...And that brings us back to where we started: Sugar Cube Corner! You got all that?”

“Uh... Maybe?”

The tour had been very informative, covering plenty of areas throughout Ponyville, from the intricacies of its town square, to some more out of the way locations, like Ponyville Library. Any resulting confusion was entirely my own fault, from a lack of a sense of direction.

“Look, don't worry. You'll get used to it soon enough,” said Rainbow Dash. “Now, I've got something to do, so I've gotta leave you for now. If you have any questions, come see me, okay?”

“Okay,” I answered.

“That's good, Incer. Well anyway, gotta dash!”

And with that, she sped off once again, leaving a rainbow-coloured trail behind her. I waved my hoof back and forth to see her off, then started thinking as I descended towards the ground.

You know, Rainbow Dash isn't actually that bad. In fact, I'm glad that I got to know her. We're somewhat alike, so I think we could possibly have some sort of connection between us that could make us great friends, or great rivals, or great... something.

I tried my best to tack an identity onto that “something,” but was still short of an idea when I touched back down.

Now that I was grounded once again, it was time to proceed. During my tour, I had learned something of a marketplace in the town square. My next move would be to investigate said marketplace so that I could learn about Ponyville capitalism. Once I had arrived at my destination, I then began to scout out some of the produce stands.

Hmm... Everyone seems to be paying with gold coins of some sort. I wonder if this currency has a name.

My ears caught wind of some nearby sales.

“That'll be four bits.”

“That one is two bits.”

“Seven bits for three of those.”

Okay, so the coins are called bits. That's good to know. Now, what about the value of the bit? How does it hold up compared to the pound, Euro, or dollar?

Behind me, I heard a salesman call out from behind his stand.

“Asparagus for sale here! Ten spears for one bit!”

Asparagus at that price? Well, it looks like the bit has them all beat.

Looking to my right, I saw some negotiations take place.

“Now wait a minute. This right here is a very special cherry. It happens to come from the same orchard as the cherries that were used to decorate the cake that was used to celebrate the day of my daughter's wedding. From that, I think you'll find my price very fair.”

“Holy guacamole! Eight bits for that cherry? You've got yourself a deal!”

What the... Okay, I guess I don't know the value of a bit. I never thought that I would say this, but please! Get a giant corporation in here so they can buy everyone out and monopolise the place! Maybe then I'll know what the right prices are!

Obviously, I was overreacting. After carefully eliminating the oddities I was presented with, I managed some calculations in my mind and, with a rough estimate as my guide, decided that I could work comfortably with about one hundred bits per week, or much less if mere survival was all that I could manage. Of course, this only covered the food portion of my possible living expenses, so it was obvious: I needed to find a job, fast.

I wonder what sort of job openings would be available in such a place. Knowing the local employment rate probably wouldn't hurt either...

Of course, there was the component of going out and actually searching for said job, and in response to that, my brain had quite the idea. It had been one of those rare moments when it actually occurred to me that I possessed a pair of wings. Granted, my inexperience with them made them unwieldy for me to utilise properly, but they were still capable of flight, dammit.

Searching the entire town for possible job openings would be much easier from a bird's eye view, so I took to the skies in search for a business that needed the assistance of an unskilled pegasus. With all the style and grace of a drunken tortoise, I navigated the air, looking from building to building to see exactly what sort of businesses would house themselves in a place called Ponyville.

The first such building that I stumbled across had a strangely familiar air to it. It was painted shades of purple and blue in sort of a chequered pattern. There were vertical beams extending upwards from the second storey that supported the building's roof, with a few of these beams impaling pony-shaped figures that were built from the same material as the building. Decreasing my altitude, I took notice of the emblem painted above the entrance, a golden pony wearing some sort of frilly ballerina outfit.

It was then that I recalled a bit of information from the tour I had recently taken. This was Carousel Boutique, which was apparently among the top spots in Ponyville for those concerned with fashion. In response to any probability that this place might be a possible source of income, I couldn't help but to glance downward and examine myself in search of a certain definitive appendage.

...It's still there. Clearly, I have no business working in such a place. Wouldn't want to scare off any potential customers, now would I?

Passing up the restricted area, I started along my flight path once again, still moving as awkwardly as all get-out. Shortly after, I would come across the town bakery, known as the ever-so-prominent Sugar Cube Corner. As for the question of whether I could work there, my response was immediate.

Only as a last resort. If I were to apply here, that would mean spending plenty of time in Pinkie's company, which is something I want to avoid if possible, because I just don't trust anything that acts with that much enthusiasm. If I'm not careful, I could end up as one of her treats...

Banishing those disturbing thoughts to the corner of my mind, I continued my search. Moving forth brought me to the next business, a restaurant of some sorts named The Clover Café. I took note of the three-leaved clover painted on the sign that hung below the entrance.

Okay... This is the first chance I have... Let's do this.

I entered the building and spoke to the mare at the reception desk.

“I was wondering... Suppose I was looking to apply for a job here. What steps would I take to do so?”

Her reply was, “Well, first, I would have one of our staff take you to the manager, who would give you an application to fill out. Then, he would have you take an aptitude test to see your innate skills as a worker, and from your results, determine if you're qualified for the job.” She then took a long pause to smile at me.

...Is that all she's going to give me?

“Okay...” I said. “Let's try this again. I would like to apply for a job here.” I made sure this time to specifically state my motive.

“Oh! That's what you meant! Sorry about that, it's just that all of us are trained to be very literal-minded when we're on the job. That kind of mindset really helps when taking a customer's order! I'll help you right away.” Scanning her immediate surroundings, she called out for a nearby waiter. “Hey, Horte, get over here!”

The waiter was at her side immediately. “Horte Cuisine, at your service, Madame.” His thick French accent caught me off guard.

“Yeah, yeah. Look, we've got a pony here that wants to join our ranks. Show him to the boss's office, will ya?”

“Of course, right away. Come with me, Monsieur.”

Wow... It's a good thing that she's not taking customers with that attitude, I thought as I followed Horte to my destination.

Shortly after, we arrived at the entrance to the manager's office. Horte rapped a hoof against the wooden door, and waited for the manager's approval before opening the door and motioning me inside. The manager, a sepia-shaded unicorn, awaited at his desk with a stoic look on his face.

“State your business here,” he said, unmoving.

“I-I would like to apply for a position here, sir!” I replied, in a bit of a panic.

“Is that so? Well then, fill out one of these forms.”

With that, a feather, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper, all of them engulfed in a hazel glare, appeared to gravitate towards me. I also noticed an increased level of brightness in the manager's horn.

Whoa... he hath telekinesis!

Dumbfounded, I was forced to hesitate for a moment before grabbing at the quill on my side of the desk. Instinctively, I raised it into a standard writing position, only to find that my hand was empty.

Oh wait, that's right. I have hooves now. So, what am I supposed to do with this?

Looking back up at the manager, I noticed that he had taken another item from his desk. It appeared to be a can of disinfectant spray, probably meant for use once I was finished. From that, I drew a conclusion.

So, I'm supposed to use my mouth on this? It's not what I had in mind, but maybe it'll be good practice for later on... Heh.

After biting the plume before me, I then turned my head about thirty degrees to the left in order to bathe its tip in the inkwell that had been provided for my usage. After coating my writing utensil, I gazed upon the surface on which its verbiage was meant to flow.

Job Application Form

Giving the proximate paperwork a death glare, I studied its inquiries closely, and within my mind, was formulating the perfect responses.

Okay... So we've got name and birth date... Pretty standard stuff. Wait, cutie mark? What in the name of... I think I'll just leave that blank for now.

I lowered my head, trying to focus my attention on landing the tip of my quill in the correct space. Seconds later, I felt contact with the paper and could confirm that ink was indeed flowing to it. With great care, I leaned backwards, taking my head into my hooves to steady the quill's path, and in doing so, successfully produced a vertical stroke on the paper. Then, I lifted my head up and readjusted my position to start near the top of the stroke and pressed the quill against the paper once more. This time, I leaned to the right to make a horizontal stroke. I then repeated this at the bottom of the vertical line to finish. Once I was done, the paper read, “I.”

One letter down, a shit-load more to go...

Needless to say, filling out an entire résumé with my mouth was a long, arduous, time-consuming task that I certainly wouldn't want to do ever again.

(I'm not going to fill out the form, but here, have a sample of my mouth-writing.)

Once I was finished, I set down my quill by spitting it out. Noticing this, the manager used his spray can to hose down the pinion, then tucked it back away in his desk drawer before levitating the complete paperwork towards his face.

“Hmm... Hear my request, if you will,” he said after reading over my application.

“Of course I will. What is it?” I replied.

“Turn around for me.”

Corresponding with his request, I rose up out of my seat and turned my body towards the door, presenting him with my backside. About three seconds later, the actuality of the situation finally hit me.

Oh, God... Is this one of THOSE job interviews? Because as much as I'd like to be employed, THAT is simply not my style! Nor is it something I would enjoy, for that matter.

Embarrassed and angry, I turned back around to face the manager.

He then said to me, “I suppose you were right in leaving that slot blank. I won't even ask how it's possible for you not to have a cutie mark yet, but it seems that your paperwork is all in order, so come along with me so that we may begin the second half of your interview.”

He was looking for a cutie mark? Okay, so apparently, cutie marks have something to do with my ass... Come to think of it, I have seen some strange patterns in the other ponies' coats before. I guess I'll have to look into that later.

A while later, we descended a flight of stairs to arrive in what seemed to be some kind of basement warehouse. I was surrounded by shelves, each of them stacked high with various kitchen supplies. Then, the manager walked over to a nearby shelf and pulled from it some sort of variation on a pair of saddlebags. The difference is that this object had a strap with upright trays on both sides that could be folded down to flatten them. The manager then fitted me with the device and spoke.

“First, I want you to test that thing out. Can you fly okay with it?” he asked me.

Somehow, I was able to get my wings over it and still flap with enough force to lift myself off the ground. I ascended to the top of the shelf before coming back down.

“It seems all right to me,” I answered.

“Okay then,” he replied. “For this aptitude test, you are to follow my every instruction. Your results of this test will determine if you are a viable employee. For my first order, you are to fly to the top of the shelf on the left.”

So, the real fight begins here, eh? Let's do this...

I flew to the top of the leftmost shelf.

“Grab a bag of flour and put it on a tray.”

I snapped at the bag with my teeth and dragged in over to the tray on my left side.

“Now down and to the right, take three teaspoons and a butcher's knife!”

I declined and looked to my right. Sliding my face along the shelf, I managed to scoop up three teaspoons. After piling them up on my right tray, I then carefully bit down on the butcher's knife, so as not to accidentally slice anything open, especially myself, and then deposited it with the spoons.

“Number three right, get glasses: four wine, two champagne!”

Backing out of my current location, I counted the available aisles, entered the third one from the left, and looked to my right. Surely enough, the glasses were there. These would be tough to get, being glass and all. I could only take one at a time, and even had to turn around at one point to place glasses on the other side to balance the weight on both sides of me.

“Now do a barrel roll!”

Immediately, my brain double-tapped the R button, forcing me to spin while leaning to the right. This sent me barrelling into the shelf on my right. I would have crashed through the shelf to the other side, but the trays protruding from my sides caught against the edges of the shelf, restraining me. I then backed out forcefully to pull myself safely out of the shelf. There was only one problem. I had stopped flapping my wings.

I fell to the ground and was shortly followed by everything I had been carrying. The bag of flour exploded when it landed, obscuring my view. Then, I could hear the sound of silver clanking all around me. After that, there was the sound of glass shattering followed by a sharp pain in my arms, and finally, I felt something wooden brush against the back of my leg.

Medic...

Aiming to divert attention from my pain, I slurred, “So... how'd I do, boss?”

The manager answered with, “Eh... We'll consider you.”

Just as I expected: I failed with style.

He then continued, “But, in the meantime, let's just get you to the hospital.”

When I next awoke, I was staring up at a green ceiling with a white curtain at my side. I sat up in the extremely stiff hospital bed and spotted a white pony with a pink mane wearing a nurse's hat.

Hello, nurse... Nah, I'll save that line for later.

I then thought to call the nurse over to my side to learn more of my current situation.

“Nurse?” I called out, hoping to get her attention. She then turned around and trotted towards me.

“Oh, good, you're awake!” she said. “I suppose you want to know what happened, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” I replied. “How long have I been out for, anyway?”

“You've been unconscious for about six hours. Apparently, you had shards of glass embedded in your forelegs,” she said, then pointed up at a nearby screen, which I immediately recognised as an x-ray. “Those six hours were due in part to our own anaesthesia, of course.”

“What? You can anaesthetise an unconscious patient?” I asked in shock.

“Why, yes,” answered the nurse. “Unicorn magic is known to be quite versatile, and healing magic is no exception to this rule. With how well magic ties into the medical world, the procedures we carried out were perfectly harmless!”

Wow... Why couldn't I have become a unicorn?

“Now,” she continued. “Let's get down to business.”

To defeat the Huns? Nope, just more paperwork...

She then pulled two sheets of paper out of a folder.

“I need your signature on both of these,” she said. “The first one is a document stating that during this time, you were here receiving treatment.”

To the right of me was a night stand that was home to a quill and inkwell. I took these instruments and used them to sign the document, with slightly more ease than before, due to my previous experience with mouth-writing.

The nurse then swapped the signed paper for a second one. “And as for this second document, we could say that Mr. Cheez was very generous.”

“Mr. Cheez?” I questioned.

“Yes. Big Cheez, the manager of the Clover Café,” she answered. “He oversaw your job interview, and rushed you here as soon as he saw your injuries. That document right there states that Mr. Cheez will cover all of your medical expenses for this incident as long as you don't take any legal action against him.”

...Well, it's not like I could have afforded the lawyer, anyway, I thought as I signed the second document. Or the doctor's fees, for that matter.

“Okay,” said the nurse. “Your paperwork seems to be all in order. My guess is that in about a half an hour, your condition will be considered stable enough so that you can leave. I'm Nurse Redheart. Just send for me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay, Nurse Redheart!” I responded.

As predicted, thirty minutes later, a doctor came into my room to check me out of the hospital. I was then rolled out of the building in a wheelchair.

Outside, it had already gotten dark. The full moon gave off a bit of light, but not enough for me to continue normally. Everything then came back to me. I had nowhere to stay for the night, and with no cash on hand, I couldn't just check into an inn. Thankfully, with that realisation came a helpful flashback. Thinking back to my cloud-clearing experience with Rainbow Dash, I realised that I possessed the power to manipulate clouds. Maybe, just maybe, if I found one wide enough, I could use that as a bed.

I ascended to find a suitable cloud to sleep in, and when I found it, I quickly dove into it. Pleased at the fact that it remained intact, I then embraced its texture (or lack thereof) and other features, and comfortably lost myself in the amalgamation of the cool, the fluffy, the moist, and the delicious. Cloud Nine, this was indeed.

Suddenly, I awoke to a deafening crash and pain coursing through my entire body. With every single one of my hairs standing up, the evidence suggested a single culprit: Lightning. But then, a much more urgent reality entered my brain. The strike had knocked me off of my cloud, which meant that I was falling out of the sky. Again. And to make matters worse, the electricity had also rendered my wings immobile.

...This is where I die, isn't it?

While silently preparing for the harsh demise that awaited me, I noticed that my descent had slowed before halting completely. In fact, I was rising once again, and there was something moving underneath me. Had I been rescued?

“Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't think that bolt would actually hit you!”

That voice, it's...

“Rainbow Dash?” I asked weakly.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I saw you float by on a cloud, then I took a closer look and saw you sleeping, so I decided to wake you up and take you to a place where you can stay. I know, there are a thousand better ways I could have done it, but I never take the time to think these things through. I'm so stupid!”

“Rainbow...” I said, having recovered slightly from my shock.

“What is it, Incer?” she replied.

“Don't put yourself down,” I advised. “Because that's my job.”

“Huh?”

“For example,” I continued, “You're not the stupid one, I am. I'm the one that was sleeping in a cloud, remember?”

“Well, I don't blame you for it.” Her sympathetic answer surprised me. “I like to take naps in them from time to time, myself. Those other pony types don't know what they're missing!”

So, cloud-related matters can only be handled by pegasi... Good to know.

“We're here!” exclaimed Rainbow Dash as we approached one of the strangest residences I had ever seen. The darkness impaired my vision, but it appeared to be a house built entirely out of clouds that was supported by cloud columns. How such a piece of architecture could even exist was beyond me. With me still on her back, the pegasus flew inside the uncanny building before landing on the floor. I then dismounted her.

“This is my place,” she explained to me. “You can stay here for the time being. You can even use my couch! As for me, I'll be heading off to bed, it's gotten pretty late. Thanks for trying to cheer me up earlier, by the way.”

“I'm glad to have helped, Rainbow,” I said as I watched her trot off to her bedroom. I then looked to the couch on the left side of the room. It looked like it hadn't seen much use, and while it was certainly no cloud, would more than suffice for use as a sleep apparatus. I plunged myself into the lounge, and before finally drifting off for real, produced one final thought.

I have no idea how, but somehow, everything turned out all right.