Ponyville looks beautiful in the evening. Well, it's even more beautiful at night, but, unfortunately, shops are usually closed then. Apparently, the shop owners in Equestria didn't notice the growing number of ponies of my kind yet. That, or they don't consider us good clients.
I'm not a marketing specialist, but I guess it'll soon change. We're a large target, and even though we have strange wings and fangs, we also have money. And, as my cousin likes to say, pecunia non olet.
I walk down the almost-empty street. It be faster if I flew, but I don't want to attract anypony's attention. While I know that there's nothing wrong in what I'm going to do, I still feel a bit... ashamed, I think it's the right word. When I don't talk and when my wings are tucked by my sides, many ponies think I'm a pegasus. But if I suddenly took off, the fillies would probably start to run away to their parents, who'd start to chase me with torches and pitchforks...
No. I'm overreacting. It's been a thousand and four years after the Princesses defeated Discord and we're in Equestria, the heart of the civilization. A country of free ponies, where you can be whoever you want, where you can marry a griffon, eat hay on Fridays, where you can even conjure a pimped-out castle in the middle of the town. There are no longer torches and pitchforks here.
Okay, there's still some prejudice. Nasty looks, whispers, such stuff. It's kinda like with zebras – we look and behave different, so some ponies think we're up to no good. Luckily, the more they know us, the less whispers I hear. Hey, I even was at a party with Berry Punch recently! The same Berry Punch who thought that Zecora was going to foalnap her daughter.
Well, I'm not sure if she noticed that my fangs are showing when I talk, but she laughed loudly when I convinced her that I don't eat foals because they're too fat and I'm on a diet. Well, that whole blood drinking is actually a legend, but it's sometimes better when they do fear us. Also, it makes for great jokes.
Speaking of foals, I meet those three kids on my way. Well, "meet" is a bad word. The orange one has to brake hard to avoid colliding with me. The fact that there's a wagon with her two friends attached to her scooter doesn't make it easier.
"Hi girls," I say when they skid to a halt inches from me. "How's your crusading?"
"It seems that we're not as good at trainspotting as we thought..." says the orange one. I think her name is Scootaloo. She's eyeing my wings, interested.
"It's because there are too few trains in Ponyville," says the white one, Sweetie Belle. "If we could find a way to get more of them here..."
"Good idea!" Scootaloo exclaims. "I like trains..."
"Don't do that," I say, laughing. "I don't think ponies in those trains would be happy..."
"Hmm..." Apple Bloom scrunches her face. "How did you get your cutie mark?"
"It's a rather long story," I reply, "and I have to go to the shop before it closes..."
"Hmm, maybe we could buy something for you?" Apple Bloom asks. Before I could reply, they all exclaim "Cutie Mark Crusaders Delivery Service!"
"I'm sorry, but it's something I'd rather buy myself..." I say. Oh Celestia, I'm blushing. I hope they won't notice...
"Strange, that's exactly what Rarity said when I wanted to run an errand for her..." Sweetie Belle says. "She later brought some package and hid it in her bedroom..."
"Let's find out what is it!" Scootaloo exclaims. "Cutie Mark Crusaders Detectives!"
She flaps her wings and they leave me alone. I sigh with relief. Luckily, they didn't find out what I want to buy. It's kinda embarassing, I can hardly admit to myself that I really want that.
I'm a bat pony. My vision and hearing are better than any other pony's. I have fangs, I have leathery wings, my irises look weird, I sleep all days and fly at nights, foalnapping little fillies...
Well, scratch the last thing. I don't eat fillies, though I don't mind some meat in my diet (which consists mostly of fruit anyway). And speaking of scratching, I often meet a certain DJ when I wander around the town, enjoying the view. She also doesn't mind that I'm a bat pony. As she says, nocturnal creatures must stick together.
Nocturnal, yeah. As you can see, I have a reputation to maintain. But it's so hard when you're nocturnal and warm-blooded at the same time...
Oh, I can imagine what my mother will say. "A proper bat pony shouldn't look like dat. Vhen I vas at your age..." and so on. You know, mom is a traditionalist. She's a vegetarian and she actually can pronounce her w's correctly, but it's all about the impression. Bat ponies are not supposed to look cute! We're supposed to be scary and intimidating! Possibly bloodstained. Due to the mindset changes, blood may be artificial.
I, of course, don't care about all that. My mane is quite colourful for a bat pony, I don't speak vith... with an accent, I sometimes walk out during the day... I even started to faint when I see blood, though I quickly stopped. I work as a nurse (night shifts only), so it would be weird.
So, apart from fangs, I'm just like any other pony. I can do everything other ponies do. Then why I'm so ashamed of this? Total humiliation. Even though it's entirely functional. The nights here are cold, what can I do about that? That wouldn't be a problem if I was spending them flying, but I often have to sit still for hours when the patients are asleep and nothing happens. There's nothing wrong about that. But, on the other hoof, I am the night! I'll look stupid.
I stand in front of the door. I can still run away from there. But then I wouldn't be able to sleep for the whole day, thinking how I chickened out at the last moment. My bat pony pride would suffer even more than if I did what I want to do. Sighing, I push the door open.
The interior of the shop is warm and cozy. But for me it feels like a rat-infested dungeon of some ancient castle (my bat pony genes tell me that rats are actually quite tasty, but I definitely don't want to check that). I exhale, bracing myself for the worst.
"Good evening, madam," says the salespony. He smiles widely at me, so I smile back nervously. He's unfazed by my fangs. For a moment we just stand there, grinning like two idiots. Seriously, this is getting awkward.
"How can I help you?" he asks finally.
Upon hearing those five words I feel like the world collapses on my head. That's my moment of truth. I can't run away now... But if I reply to him, I'll lose a part of my identity. Other bat ponies will laugh at me. My mother will disown me...
"You're lucky, we were going to call it a day..." he says. I silence him with a frantic gesture. He probably sees my confusion. I take a step back. If he bursts into laughter, I'm gonna die of shame.
"Madam," he says. "There's nothing to be ashamed about. You're actually the third bat pony who came here this week..."
"What?" I look at him in disbelief. Really? Bat ponies... like me... here? Buying..."
"You're not the only one whose hooves get cold at night," he explains. "We just got a new delivery, so you can choose whatever you want..."
"Oh, I already know what I want..." I say, looking at the shelves. "Do you still have those cute socks with pink and violet stripes? I saw them on the display and I think they'll suit my mane..."
