Misadventures in Manehattanby The Princess RarityChapters“Stupid Mondays should just throw ‘emselves off of a cliff.”“Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?”“How's 'bout we skip work & protest to legalize weed instead?”“I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--”“Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!”“Dude, why would your parents name you that? Did they hate you?”“Hey, buddy! Quit sleepin’ at the wheel if you wanna stay outta jail!”“If I wanted to hear that kind of crap, I’d be watching porn!”“If it were me, I might’ve called a restraining order.”Who says you can't go home?“Stupid Mondays should just throw ‘emselves off of a cliff.”Misadventures in Manehattan by The Princess Rarity EVENT ONE: Waking Up It’s a popular saying - and fact - that Manehattan is the city that never sleeps. What with so many attractions and businesses, it couldn’t afford to do such a thing. Lights lit up the night sky, and when sunlight made it’s way across the horizon, it was equally bright. In the early hours, the only difference to tell between night and day would most likely be the sound of an alarm clock shrieking. Grace let out a loud groan as she reached over, attempting to crush the digital appliance, with no such luck. Instead, the beeping only increased and she growled, reaching down and unplugging the clock. With a sigh at the relief of silence, she fumbled for her glasses and slid them on clumsily. She blinked rapidly for her eyes to adjust with the harsh light of waking up, and grimaced at the realization that today was Monday. Like any reasonable pony, Grace despised Mondays. Mondays were a fresh new beginning to a week. Mondays meant work. Mondays were full of chaos downtown. Mondays seemed to drag on forever. In short, Mondays sucked. The clock on the bedside table was stuck at reading 7:00 am. Grace contemplated if she could lay in bed for just a few more minutes. After all, she could be dressed and ready within two minutes and breakfast wasn’t always that important… ...then again, her grumbling stomach said otherwise. Ok, maybe breakfast was important. But still, ten more minutes in bed wouldn’t kill her, would it? She could still hail a cab and be to work on time even if she slept in a little. Her golden eyes fluttered close, and she was about to snuggle back under her comforter, when a loud snore from across the room caused her to let out a frustrated sigh. Pulling the blanket over her face to block out the noise, Grace couldn’t believe she had slept through that annoyance. It seemed as if she had no choice but to get up now. “I hate Mondays,” Grace mumbled as she trudged out of her extremely comfortable bed and trekked across the cold hardwood floor that shocked her awake with every step she took. “Stupid Mondays should just throw ‘emselves off of a cliff.” She entered the kitchen and flicked on the electric coffee pot, letting the caffeinated beverage percolate while she slid into the nearby bathroom. Her face had creases from the position she had been sleeping in, while her mane was hanging limp and frazzled. Grace reached for a brush and began fussing with the tangles, while she turned on the water. She placed the brush down and splashed her face, trying to feel refreshed, but it didn’t work at all. Instead, she was spitting out lukewarm water and feeling groggy. She snatched a washcloth and wiped the water off of her glasses, realizing how stupid she was for leaving them on while washing her face. Mornings in general were terrible, actually. A knock on the door was heard, and Grace rolled her eyes. “Coco!” she called. “Can you get up and answer the door?!” The only reply was another snore. Grace realized that for such a quiet, calm pony, her roommate was probably the loudest snorer in all of Equestria. Now, the doorbell went off. “Coco! Answer it!” Grace yelled, as she went back to brushing her mane. Instead of words, there were snores. Again. Grace let out an exasperated sigh, and threw her head back in frustration. She tossed her brush down onto the countertop and shuffled out of the bathroom. She sneered at the sight of Coco, splayed out on the sofa bed and cuddled with her blankets, blissfully unaware to the fact that it was morning. Grace considered leaving her roommate there to sleep and miss work, but she wasn’t cruel. Instead, she decided waking Coco up late on purpose would be far more entertaining. There was one last knock on the door, before Grace swung it open. She recognized the pony standing there, but she couldn’t recall the name at this moment. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, whatdya want?” she muttered. “I was told that this was the residence of Coco Pommel?” “Um, yeah,” Grace mumbled. “She lives here.” A snore was heard. “Can I take a message?” “Just tell her Rarity dropped off these,” the pony said as she levitated a paper bag out of her saddlebags. “I was hoping to talk to her before I leave the city today, but if she’s, er, busy--” “--oh, no, not at all. In fact, I remember you now,” Grace replied. “Gimme a minute.” She took the bag and placed the parcel down onto the floor. Then, she climbed onto the sofa bed. Surprisingly, Coco didn’t stir in the slightest, so drastic times definitely called for drastic measures. Grace picked up one of the closest pillows, lifted it up and inhaled a deep breath. “Coco! Wake up!” she screamed, as she began beating her roommate with the pillow. “Your sexy boss is here and she’ll fire your ass if you don’t get outta bed!” That obviously did the trick. Within milliseconds, Coco was wide awake and practically shaking. “Wh-wha?” she sputtered out, trying to block the pillow swats. Grace stiffened her lip and her expression displayed the fact that she was trying so hard not to burst into hysterical laughter. It was almost hilarious how Coco’s embarrassment was glowing as bright as a flashlight in a dark room. “She, uh… Miss Rarity isn’t my boss,” she managed to stutter out. “Well, you wouldn’t have a job if it wasn’t for her, so she’s your boss, according to me,” Grace retorted as she slapped Coco with the pillow one more time for good measure. Coco laughed nervously and Grace waved a hoof. “Ah, I get it, I’ll leave you two crazy kids alone,” she smirked. “I’ll be in the kitchen watching tv and eating cereal.” She eyed the pony, Rarity, in the doorway and gave a wink. “Call me sometime?” “I beg your pardon--” “--Grace, please go away,” Coco groaned as she fell back onto the bed. “C’est la vie,” Grace said, with a mock sigh and a soft chuckle. Author's Note A character who needs development? Consider it done! I know I have enough projects to work on, but this was too good of an idea not to write, so I'm taking y'all on another crazy roller coaster ride with me. You guys better buckle up! The idea of these two being an odd couple was so appealing to me, it seriously wouldn't leave me alone. Why they haven't been written together before is beyond me, but oh well. Please comment, upvote, favorite and all of that crazy awesome junk. Chapter Two should be released shortly. --The Princess Rarity “Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?”EVENT TWO: Eating Breakfast “Hey… where did she come from?” “What -- are you saying that because she doesn’t look like us?” “Rude!” Grace laughed at the sitcom she was watching, and she shoveled another spoonful of sugar-filled cereal she was eating into her mouth. The sound of the front door slamming close alerted her away from the show momentarily, but she couldn’t help but smile when Coco shuffled into the kitchen, looking both embarrassed and aggravated. “I really wish you wouldn’t do stuff like that,” she sighed as she grabbed the box of cereal and looked around for a bowl. “Where are the dishes?” “It was your turn to wash ‘em,” Grace replied. She looked back to the small television resting on the kitchen countertop and scowled when she noticed that it was a commercial. Instantly, she picked up the remote and switched the channel. “What are you doing?!” “Helping!” “You’ve got a screwdriver, go build a cabinet!” With one look at the strange aliens in the program, Grace let out a loud “Nope” as she changed the channel. She came across ridiculous children’s shows, monotonous news, a soap opera in Sponesh and a few game shows, when she finally settled on a cartoon. “Who’s that Ponymon?!” “It’s the stupid goldfish one!” Grace yelled at the tv. Coco rolled her eyes at her roommate’s immaturity, and was slightly perplexed as she noticed a note taped onto the cupboard’s door. Dear Coco, I don’t want to sound like a slut, but feel free to do me anytime you like. Sincerely, The Dishes “Was this really necessary?” she asked. Too engrossed in a commercial featuring a new form of silly string, Grace kept eating her cereal and purposely ignored her friend. Of course, this caused Coco to let out a sigh. She eyed the sink full of dirty plates, and decided she would wash them after work, if she found time. Instead, she grabbed the biggest mug hanging off of the wall and carried it over to the table. She took the box of cereal and poured it into the cup, using it as a makeshift bowl for the time being. “Aren’t there supposed to be marshmellows in this?” Coco asked, as she picked up a spare spoon lying on the table and poked at the frosted oats. Grace nodded. “Yeah,” she said through a mouthful of sugar. “I might’ve separated the cereal and the marshmellows.” Coco frowned. “Well… can you share some?” Grace tore her gaze away from the show and looked to her roommate thoughtfully for a moment. She ate another spoonful of marshmellows and held back a smirk. “Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?” she mused. “What do you mean?” Coco inquired as she got up to get milk out of the fridge. “Well, think about it,” Grace explained. “Typically, marshmellows are white, and they’re squishy. You’re a white pony and--” She reached across the table and poked Coco’s hoof when she sat back down. “You’re definitely squishy. Maybe you’re distantly related to marshmellows or somethin’.” “That’s racist! Not all white ponies are marshmellows,” Coco argued. “How is it racist?” Grace laughed. “It’s just an observation.” Coco fell silent as she poured milk into the cup and ate a spoonful of cereal. “Ok, maybe not racist,” she mumbled. “But it doesn’t make any sense.” Grace carelessly shrugged. “Life doesn’t make any sense,” she said. She pushed the bowl over to her friend. “Go one, take ‘em. I don’t like the green ones, anyway.” She got up from the table and shuffled across the floor. She reached for the coffee pot and was about to grab a mug, when she looked around, but found none. “See?! This is what happens when you don’t do the dishes, ya marshmellow.” “Is that my new nickname now?” Coco muttered. “Yup,” Grace replied. “Great. Looks like I’ll have to use one of these.” She yanked the package of red plastic cups out from under the sink and pulled one out. She poured the coffee into the cup, and instantly chugged the drink down. “Ah, that’s the stuff,” she grinned. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Coco grab the remote and change the channel. “Hey! I was watching Ponymon!” “But you’ve seen that episode before,” Coco retorted. “Still,” Grace muttered. “The news sucks, why are you putting that on? It’s all boring politics crap on how our monarchy is buckin’ everything up and then, it’s bogus stories about how another puppy got rescued from a well or some idiot supposedly ‘fell’ off of a train platform.” “I just want to see the weather,” Coco said. “And besides, the puppy stories are cute.” Grace rolled her eyes and refilled her cup of coffee. “Whatever,” she muttered. She took another sip of her coffee, and then headed out of the kitchen, directly into the small living quarters she called her bedroom. Then again, seeing how the flat was so small, it was also technically Coco’s storage space. The apartment definitely wasn’t worth almost two thousand bits a month -- but it was the only thing they could get. Grace fiddled through the drawers: finding spare glasses, boxes of unused contact lenses, a few hoodies and socks that belonged to her roommate, when she finally came across the spot that held their ties and collars, respectively. “Hey, marshmellow, you gonna wear a collar today?!” Grace hollered. “Yes, please!” Grace fetched one of the multiple identical collars and a blue tie for herself. Her lucky black one was dirty and stained with who knows what from Friday’s incident with a homeless man. She threw the tie around her neck and went back into the kitchen. She tossed the collar over to Coco, and looked to the news. “What kinda horseshit did Celestia do this time?” Grace groaned as she saw the Sun Princess on the television screen. “Grace! Language!” Coco corrected. “I can’t help it, the news aggravates me,” Grace defended, without prying her eyes away from the so-called breaking news. “Really? Her niece is expecting a baby and that’s breaking news?” She snorted. “Well, at least another pony didn’t get stabbed.” Coco let out a sigh of exasperation and shook her head. She drank the last remnants of her breakfast and grabbed her collar. She tied it on expertly without even looking as she kept her focus on the news. “And this just in-” the news anchor said. “-starting today, cab drivers in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Los Pegasus, Neigh Jersey and Baltimare will be going on strike. The service will be shut down for as long as the strike goes on. Let’s take the story down to Action Announcer, who’s right outside.” The screen flipped to another pony. “Hello, Channel 3, and I’m here at the Manehattan Cab Office, talking with a driver,” she said. “Now, sir, can you tell me why you’re on strike?” The camera showed an angry stallion, who was shaking his hoof. “We cannot take it anymore!” he yelled in an accent -- Germane, perhaps. “I cannot pay for my wife and kids with only five bits an hour! Raise the minimum wage to fifteen or I quit!” Grace frowned. “Dammit, we can’t get to work with a taxi now,” she muttered. On the other hoof, Coco was genuinely worried. “So how are we gonna get there?!” she said panickedly. “It’s too far to walk!” Grace scoffed, and waved her hoof. “Calm down, marshmellow, we’ll just take another mode of public transport, no big deal,” she replied. “It ain’t desirable but, y’know. It’ll have to do.” Coco cocked her head to the side. “What other way is there?” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Ya never been on the subway?” she questioned. “No,” Coco replied. “I haven’t been in Manehattan as long as you.” “Well then,” Grace mused, trying to hide her smirk. “This morning’s commute should be fun.” Author's Note Aaah, I love making Grace a snarky lil witch. She seems like that type for some reason. But now, these two friends will face one of the worst tasks of the day: traveling to work! I appreciate all of the faves and stuff so far. You guys are awesome. --The Princess Rarity “How's 'bout we skip work & protest to legalize weed instead?”EVENT THREE: Daily Commute “Hurry up!” Grace called. “I am!” Coco hollered back. “You have a shorter mane and tail than me, how long does it take to brush it?!” Grace groaned. She looked at her wristwatch and sighed. “I’m leaving without you if you’re not done in one minute! The train arrives earlier than a cab, y’know! And you can’t catch another one once ya miss it!” Coco rushed out of the bathroom and adjusted her hairpin. “Ok, ok, I’m here,” she said quickly. She picked her saddlebags up off of the floor and hoisted them on. “Did you get lunch?” Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she retorted sarcastically. “Now, let’s get the hay out of here.” She swung open the door, and winced at the sound of screaming from everypony else in their complex. Another downside of living in an apartment - having little to no separation from their neighbors. It didn’t help that they lived next door to some really crazy ponies… “Vinyl, why did you waste all your entire paycheck on a stereo system we will never use?!” “Aw, c’mon, Tavi-babe, don’t hate me because I’m beautiful!” “That doesn’t even make any sense!” “Your face doesn’t make any sense!” “I swear, I’m married to a foal.” “A very sexy foal.” “...You’re sleeping on the couch tonight for that sick joke.” Grace shoved a hoof in her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud at the dialogue from the ponies who lived next door. Meanwhile, Coco was just shaking her head. The two of them listened to the screams of other ponies, mixed in with the few cries and wails of children. Grace was about to push the button for the elevator, when her jaw fell to the floor as she read a note taped onto the wall. Dear Residents of the Cityview Apartments, The elevators are out of order for this week. They should be back in function by the end of the month. Please use the stairs. Sincerely, Founder / Manager / Landlord Lurch “I hate that mule,” Grace grumbled. “What a creep he is, too.” “Grace, please don’t start--” Coco sighed. “--I’m serious!” Grace argued as she walked over and swung open the door to the stairwell. “Have you seen that guy?” She stretched out a sick, twisted smile and she crossed her eyes. “Not only is the dude ancient but he’s just plain weird. He’s, like, the center of kids’ nightmares.” Coco said nothing and rolled her eyes as she started heading down the steps. “What?” Grace called after her friend. “C’mon, I know it’s not just me! He’s not called Lurch for nothin’!” “G’morning, ladies,” a monotone voice said. It startled both Grace and Coco, who nearly fell off of the platform as they noticed their landlord standing there, staring at them with the same strange grin Grace had mimicked. “Off to work?” the stallion droned, scratching his whiskers. “Y-yessir,” Coco said softly. “That’s nice,” Lurch muttered, with a heavy sigh. “Well, I better go. I gotta go upstairs and clean Miss Tabby’s carpets.” “Ya mean the crazy lady who lives above us?” Grace retorted. “Dude, it’s been over six months since her carpets have started reeking of cat shi-” “-have a nice day, Mr. Lurch, bye!” Coco said quickly as she took her roommate’s hoof and pulled a protesting Grace the rest of the way down. “Didn’t your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap when you were a filly?” “Nope,” Grace smirked. “That’s ‘cause I was smart enough not to swear in front of my ma.” “Of course,” Coco said, with a shake of her head. “So, how do we get to the subway?” “Follow my lead,” Grace declared. She led her friend out of the complex building and they started their trek down the block towards the train station. Weaving one’s way through the crowds of Downtown Manehattan wasn’t an easy task. Like many things in life, it was something that had to be practiced over and over. Grace had been residing in this city for almost a year now, while Coco was still new to the whole routine, what with only being in Manehattan for two months. Keeping up with Grace was a struggle in itself, seeing how she practically ran across the pavement, leaving Coco in the dust. ...however, Grace suddenly halted as a huge crowd passed through the streets, screaming and hollering about something. Signs were being held up, flags flew and ponies were marching around, thus blocking traffic in the process. It didn’t take a genius to find out that this was a protest. “Aw, you gotta be buckin’ kidding,” Grace mumbled. “Move it, hippies!” she yelled. Her words fell on deaf ears as the march continued, and seemed to never end. Coco frowned. “So, how are we going to get to work now?” she asked worriedly. Grace tapped her chin with a hoof and pursed her lips in thought. “I got an idea,” she mused. She took Coco’s hoof and dragged her into the crowd. “Hey, man, what are we protesting ‘bout?” A pale yellow stallion with his green mane tied into dreadlocks looked over to her. “We’re tryna to legalize weed,” he explained. “The governor vetoed it so we’re gonna protest the hay out of it ‘til he lets us be free! This is Equestria!” He shot his hoof up into the air and cheered, while other ponies followed. Grace nodded. “Cool, I smoked weed back in college,” she said. “Mind if my friend and I join ya?” “Wh-what?!” Coco squeaked out. “I - I don’t smoke marijuana, though! I’ve never touched drugs!” Of course, as expected of her, Grace nudged Coco and gave a wink. “How's 'bout we skip work and protest to legalize weed instead?” she asked. It took a moment, but the pieces of the strange puzzle eventually fell into place in Coco’s mind. She faked a smile and a laugh. “Yeah, sure!” she lied. The stallion gave a goofy grin. “Work blows,” he agreed. “Totally!” Grace said, with a genuine smile. “Yo, where can we get one of those signs?” “Go ask Hot Shot, he’s on the other side of the line--” “K, thanks, bye!” Grace replied, as she started trampling over everypony else, while dragging Coco. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the two of them fell out the other side of the line, breathing heavily and faintly smelling of drugs. Fortunately, Coco pulled out a small bottle from her saddlebags and began squirting her friend with it. “Great, now I smell like a hooker!” Grace argued. “It's only perfume,” Coco said, as she spritzed herself. “Besides, do you want the boss to think you do drugs? This masks some of the scent.” She slid the bottle back into her purse when suddenly, Grace noticed a yellow carriage. “Oi, marshmellow, this might just be our lucky day,” she mumbled. She started waving her hooves like a crazy pony. “Hey! You, with the hat! You workin’ that thing?” The mare standing next to the carriage nodded, and waved her wing. “Well, whatdya know,” Grace smiled. “We can get a taxi after all.” As they both began walking over to the cab, Coco knit her eyebrows and stared at her friend. “How do you know what a prostitute smells like anyway?” she asked. Author's Note So, looks like they didn't have to take the subway after all. But dealing with protesters is always a strange experience, so there was that. I personally experience the pain Grace and Coco have in their apartment. Thankfully, I don't live in a complex, but I do have ridiculously loud neighbors who scream at ungodly hours who are right next door and I gotta deal with a very creepy landlord who almost never fixes anything. Also, yay for cameos! --The Princess Rarity “I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--”EVENT FOUR: Checking Into Work “Manewitz! Pommel!” Both mares froze as they heard their names being called as they entered the hotel at which they worked at. Cautiously, they turned around and noticed their boss standing there, with a big fat cigar between his teeth and his usual grimace shining. “...you’re here early, ladies,” he muttered. “Well, y’know us,” Grace said, with a fake laugh. “Earth pony work ethic and all that.” “Uh-huh,” the bossman replied sarcastically. He gestured to the front desk. “Well, Manewitz, I got some documents in from Prance. I want ‘em translated and on my desk by noon. Pommel, just ‘cause you work part-time on Bridleway now, don’t think I’m kissin’ yer hooves. I still need ya to sew drapes for our upcoming makeover.” Coco and Grace nodded in unison, and let out a sigh of relief as their employer walked off. “He was unusually nice for once,” Grace mumbled. “Normally he yells at us for a good half hour, then accuses us of bein’ late.” She slid behind her desk, plugged into her typewriter and sat down, readying her supplies as she tried to find the documents she was supposed to work on. “I’ll see you at lunch?” Coco said, with a hopeful smile. “If I don’t stab myself with this pencil, then yeah, probably,” Grace replied. She let out a groan and threw up her hooves. “See? I just got to work, and I already hate it.” “Why, good morning, fillies!” a voice called. Coco looked back, while Grace tried to slide underneath her desk, but with no such luck. “Oh, hello, Baymont,” Coco smiled. “I see you there, Gracie~” Baymont practically sang. “Don’t call me that,” Grace deadpanned as she stared at the doorman. “Whatdya want?” “I just came to say hi,” Baymont defended. “Is that a crime?” Grace opened her mouth to make one of her usual smart remarks, when Coco spoke up in her sweet, polite manner. She grinned at Baymont and shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured. Baymont returned the grin to Coco, but it was clearly obvious that his attentions weren’t on her whatsoever -- but rather, her coworker was who he kept staring at. “So, Gracie--” “--Grace. My name is Grace.” “--you look cute when you’re frustrated,” he laughed. “Shut up,” Grace muttered. She crossed her forehooves like a child and glared at him. “Now, I’ll say it again, whatdya want? Are ya just here to bother me, like you do ev’ryday?” “Your words wound me, Miss Manewitz,” Baymont said, with a mock gasp. He placed a hoof to his chest, as if his heart was breaking. “I was simply going to ask how your weekend was, that’s all. Is it wrong for me to enjoy talking to a nice mare like yourself?” “No, you enjoy annoying me,” Grace argued. “And my weekend was fine, thankyouverymuch. Me and Coco here marathoned a bunch of Disneigh movies and I spent Saturday night getting wasted with an old friend of mine. Any other questions? ‘cause unlike you, I got an important job. I don’t just smile and wave to ponies.” Baymont rolled his eyes playfully. “You like playin’ hard to get, I understand that,” he said. Grace frowned. “I like avoiding you,” she shot back. Baymont winked. “Of course you do,” he smirked as he turned around and headed back to his post outside. “Stupid idiot,” Grace mumbled under her breath. She spun around in her chair and went back to focusing on her work, when Coco looked over to her friend and spoke up. “He seems nice -- why are you so rude to him?” she asked. “Meh, I’m rude to everyone,” Grace retorted. “But he’s the main annoyance of my work day.” “Really? How?” Coco inquired. Over the time she had known Grace, she realized that a lot of things easily annoyed her friend. And most of the time, the reasons were often quite strange or made no sense at all. Then again, Coco also learned not to question most things. Grace huffed, and blew her mane out of her eyes. “He’s always winkin’ at me and askin’ me out, he can’t take no for an answer,” she explained. “Also, his voice -- it’s so squawky. I’d rather go out with a parrot.” Coco smiled ever-so-slightly and tried not to say anything. “What? You never smile like that -- what’s goin’ on?” Grace asked. “Nothing,” Coco said innocently. “I better get to sewing those drapes. Have fun translating.” “Yeah, ok,” Grace mumbled, not believing her friend’s words. “I’m onto you, marshmellow!” “Whatever you say!” Coco teased, as she walked off. Grace rolled her eyes. She began to type furiously as she read the Prench documents and squinted at the occasional word or two, but everything was mostly smooth sailing. In all honesty, she rather would have been working for what her cutie mark meant -- writing fiction -- but deciphering was the secondary talent she could fall back on, so this would have to do for now. But maybe, someday, she could write a novel on how a small-town filly rose to fame in the big city… “So, now that we’re alone--” Baymont trilled from the doorway. “--get out,” Grace demanded. “Aw, c’mon, Gracie,” he begged. “Do you want a typewriter thrown at your face, pretty boy?!” she called. Baymont instantly burst into laughter. “My, my, a compliment from you! Pretty boy!” he said. “That just made my week! You finally lettin’ those feelings of yours out, huh?” Grace stiffened her lip. “I was bein’ sarcastic,” she remarked. “I hate you.” Baymont smirked. “Sure ya do,” he said, with a wink. He made his way back over to her desk and leaned over it, much to her obvious discomfort. “So, maybe this weekend, you could have a little more fun? I got two tickets to see Paramare, live in concert on Sunday. You wanna go?” Grace ignored him, and went back to typing, much to his frustration. “You can’t keep running away from me forever,” he argued. “Yes, I can,” Grace said, with a chuckle. The doorbell rang, meaning that a pony was in need of service with their bags. Baymont let out a sigh, and gave a sideways glance to Grace. He leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Think about it?” he asked, sliding the tickets across the desk. “You kiss me again and,” she growled, picking her bag up off of the floor. “I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--” “Ahem!” the customer called. Baymont shrugged. “Can’t blame me for tryin’!” he said as he walked off. Grace eyed the concert tickets and hesitated. He’s got an annoying voice. He’s pushy. His manecut is stupid. He’s been watching me like a hawk since I got here. I don’t like him, she thought. ...yet her words betrayed her. “Hey, pretty boy!” she yelled. Baymont looked away from the customer for a moment, and his grin twitched. Grace’s expression was neutral as she picked up the tickets and waved them. “It’s not a date, just a hangout, capisce?” she said. “Y-yeah, sure!” he smiled. “Pick me up at six.” Baymont smirked. "Wear somethin' pretty," he requested. Grace snorted. "Don't push it," she muttered. Author's Note The Manefair Hotel bellhop pony needed a name, so I gave him one. And yes, I named him after a different hotel on purpose, for irony. So from this day forth, he shall be called Baymont. I am a Princess, so my word is law, apparently. Also, I really liked writing the love / hate conflict with him and Grace. Now, I guess I've started a new ship too? Next chapter will have more Coco! Promise! --The Princess Rarity “Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!”EVENT FIVE: Actually Working “Now, remember,” Prim Hemline declared. “Odd-numbered rooms are to have the plaid drapes while even numbered rooms will have checkerboard patterned drapes. They are not to touch the floor nor are they to go above the baseboards. Also take in mind that the color of the drapes must not clash with anything in the room. Try not to choose any fabrics that are loud, either. We want to make a statement with the hotel makeover, but we don’t want to overdo it.” She turned around with a flair and looked at her employee sternly. “Do you understand what needs to be done?” Coco looked up from her notebook, skimmed the directions and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Prim’s expression bore what seemed to resemble a smile. “Very well then, Miss Pommel,” she replied. “I’m off for the day, I have to go attend my daughter’s ensemble performance, but I assume that leaving everything in your hooves is a good plan, yes?” Coco nodded once more. “Yes, of course, ma’am, you can count on me,” she assured. “I figured as much,” Prim said. She headed for the door, and added, “Remember, dial my colleagues, Hoity Toity and Photo Finish, if you are in need of any assistance. I’m sure they can lend you somepony to help around here if need be. By the way, I have an appointment I can’t cancel, could you handle it for me?” “I - I’ll be fine,” Coco said, hoping that her boss didn’t catch the slight stutter. Running the upstairs shop all on her own was something she had done for an hour or two, but a whole day was something else in it’s entirety. “Good luck,” Prim huffed as she left. Coco let out an uneasy sigh, and placed her notepad down. She headed over to the sewing machine and clicked it on, letting it buzz to life as she began choosing fabrics. Silk and satin were far too expensive for simple drapes, and velvet was a nice idea, but it could get easily ruined. Cotton seemed like the most reliable cloth to use -- but color was a battle to choose. The rooms in the Manefair Hotel were sweet, elegant with a touch of class. However, the samples Coco had been given to use were bright, and vibrant. She wondered: would neon green and orange really look nice against white walls and tan carpeting? Holding up a piece next to the wall, she smiled. Who would have guessed? Orange made the rugs stand out, and the neon green was a nice opposite to the plain white. Just as Coco was about to start sewing, there was a rapid knock on the door. “I’m here for an appointment with Prim!” somepony yelled. Coco hesitated as she heard the voice. She knew it. It almost made her want to hide under the desk and hope that the pony would eventually give up and leave… ...but then again, that wasn’t what faithful employees did. Releasing a deep breath, Coco headed over to the door and opened it. “She’s not here today, I’m in charge,” she said, trying not to stutter. “I’ll take your appointment.” “You work here?!” “Yes, Suri. As a matter of fact, I do,” Coco declared, suddenly feeling proud of herself. The mare stammered and dodged glances, looking down to the floor. “Uh, who’s Suri?” She faked a cough and avoided eye contact at all costs. “I’m, uh, Zuri. With a z. Totally different pony, you probably misread my name or something, mmkay?” Her face fell. “I mean, uh… yeah. Wrong name you read.” Coco frowned. “No makeup or wig will change the fact I know the real you,” she said. Now sporting a platinum blonde wig, and blue eyes, with a black trenchcoat on, it was still noticeable to the fact that this was indeed Suri Polomare. “So, what are you here for?” Coco asked politely. Suri huffed. “Whatdya think?” she snapped. “I need a job.” Coco nodded, and allowed Suri into the shop. “So you’re looking for employment here? At the same place you were fired from?” she said hesitantly. “Don’t you think Prim will recognize you?” Suri rolled her eyes. “Not if ya don’t bail me out, mmkay?” she sneered. A part of Coco almost wanted to shoot back a cruel statement -- or a rant, even -- but she wasn’t that type of pony. Instead, she just gave a curt nod and walked over to the desk, pulling out a clipboard from one of the drawers and holding it out to Suri. “Fill out this form, and if Prim finds you eligible, you should get a call soon,” Coco explained. “Yeah, I know how this works,” Suri grumbled as she snatched the pen. Coco sat down, starting to work when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Suri, absolutely frustrated and eyeing the fabrics longingly. Immediately after Suri was fired for plagiarizing another fashionista’s line, Coco was her replacement. Prim had shown Coco everything there was to know about the shop, and over the past few months, it had all been a dream come true, but now, the slightest worry ticked in Coco’s mind. “There,” Suri declared. She threw the clipboard down. “See ya around.” Coco simply watched as Suri headed for the door. It wasn’t the typical Suri walk Coco used to know. Before, Suri would walk like a model, head held high as if the world owed her everything. Now? Her stance was weak and she stomped around. “Wait,” Coco said. “What?” Suri shot back. “You… um… forgot to fill out your marital status and secondary name,” Coco pointed out, looking at the form and holding it out. “It’s mandatory, see?” “Oh,” was all that Suri could mutter. She picked up the pen, and checked off “NO” for the marital status, and jotted down some bogus last name… yet all the while, her eyes are more focused on the fabrics and other sewing supplies. Coco could tell what Suri was thinking, and by no means was Coco going to be a pushover and give it to her, no way, no how. Then again, decorating all of the rooms in one day would be difficult, she thought. Her heart and conscience were battling it out deep down, and Coco felt her mouth start to move before she could even think. “You’re hired temporarily for the day,” she said quickly. “What?” Suri repeated. “How does that even work?” “I… I’ll pay you. A day’s wages, if you help me,” Coco stuttered. “I need an assistant.” “My, the tables have turned,” Suri murmured. She looked at the paperwork and sighed. “Yeah, ok. Whatdya need?” Coco slid over her notepad and pointed to the racks of fabrics. “I know your main talent is eye for detail. I need you to measure the approximate length between the baseboards of the rooms and the floors. Have it done as soon as you can,” she said. “Please.” Suri nodded. “Alright,” she mumbled, heading for the door to go work. Coco felt her heart warm, while her conscience sank. “And by the way, Suri?” she spoke up. “Yeah?” “I don’t forget, but I definitely forgive,” Coco explained. “And not easily, either.” Suri said nothing as she left, slamming the door behind her. When Coco took one last look at the employment fill-in sheet, she glanced at the “N / A” written on the address section. Suddenly, her conscience soared. “Generosity, you are the key,” she slightly hummed to herself. It was a song that a friend had taught her… ..and just now did Coco realize how true it really was. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Grace sat at her desk, typing away. She was on the last sheet of papers: apparently, the Prime Minister of Prance wanted to buy half of the Manefair Hotel franchise. She wondered what her boss would think about that. But the more important thing on her mind were the concert tickets she had shoved into her purse. Baymont wasn’t a rude stallion at all. Despite his weird voice and stupid quirks, he was actually a bit of a gentlecolt. She was almost considering giving the tickets back. He could give them to a mare who actually wanted to go out with him or he could take a friend not-- “Hey, can ya tell me how to work this stupid elevator?” a voice spoke up. “You gotta pull the lever, and then press the button,” Grace said, without looking away from her typewriter. “If that doesn’t work, use the steps -- I ain’t the maintenance man.” “The stairwell is locked, can I have the key?” Grace let out a sigh. “Sure, one minute,” she grumbled. She got up from her seat, grabbed her Sunbucks coffee (that Baymont was nice enough to buy for her) and took a sip as she made her way over to the file cabinet where the keys were kept. She fiddled amongst papers and other junk, when she finally fished out the key ring. “Here ya go,” Grace muttered. She turned around just as she was sipping her coffee once more… …but she instantly did a spit-take when she saw who was standing at the desk. “I-it’s you! You’re the gal who conned my friend, Suri whatsername!” she stammered out. Now realizing that she had sprayed coffee all over Suri, Grace laughed and gave a cocky smile as she tossed the keys across the way. “Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!” she sneered. Author's Note DUN, DUN, DUUUUUN! ...yup, Grace is a mare of action, and Suri got what she deserved, while Coco is forgiving and will probably get yelled at by Grace. Sounds like fun, yeah? Don't worry, though, the comedy will stay. --The Princess Rarity “Dude, why would your parents name you that? Did they hate you?”EVENT SEVEN: Back to Work Coco’s favorite sound in the world had to have been the catchy rhythm of a sewing machine at work. It was a noise that wasn’t quite disturbing, but instead, it was strangely calming. In addition to the fact it was magical watching her creations come to life, the sewing machine’s mechanical whirring was good for helping her pay attention to work… ...not today, though. Not when Suri was right there -- cutting the fabrics to the right lengths and folding the finished pieces. Normally, she would talk a mile a minute while she worked, but apparently, something had shut her up. What exactly, Coco wasn’t sure, but she definitely had a hunch. She could understand why Suri would feel upset. Especially what with Coco noticed on the application… “You gonna use these colors or should I put ‘em in storage?” Suri asked, as she picked up a bundle of violet, red and black fabrics. “I think I’ll use the maroon,” Coco replied. “Keep it out here, just in case.” “Got it,” Suri muttered. She dropped the dark red cloth back onto the shelf and shuffled into the back room to put things away. To be completely honest, Coco was surprised at how calm Suri had been. She had expected rude comments for the day. Then again, maybe not, she realized. After all, Suri did need a job and nopony could keep an occupation if they were ridiculously rude. Coco felt like her mind was at war: was she a fool for giving her old boss a second chance? The tables had turned and it really did feel strange, not powerful, like she had wondered about in her earlier days. “Found this in the back,” Suri spoke up. She held up a roll of sunset orange fabric. “Wanna use it?” “Maybe,” Coco said. “Put it with the other things.” She pointed over to the pile of supplies next to her work desk and went back to sewing. Without thinking twice, Suri tossed the roll over to the pile, and winced when a domino effect began. The roll hit the basket, knocking over the spools of thread and needles, followed by the samples of other cloths, and then Coco’s leftover soda from lunch spilled all over the drape she was currently working on. “I’m sorry!” Suri blurted out. “Oh, gosh, really, I am so sorry. I’m an idiot, seriously--” She stammered, and whipped off her trenchcoat, using the belt of it to wipe up the mess. “I’m really, really--” “Suri, it’s ok,” Coco interrupted. “It was an accident.” “--sorry,” Suri mumbled as she looked up and met her former assistant’s gaze. A single, eerie pause passed between them both, only before Coco cleared her throat. She tossed the cup and the ruined curtain into the trash, and turned off the sewing machine. “We all make mistakes,” she said softly. She nudged the rolls of cotton back up to their standing point and bent down to pick up the needles, but Suri beat her to it. “L-let me do it,” she stuttered. “It was my fault.” “It was all your fault,” Coco whispered breathlessly, with the slightest hint of a frown. She thought that it was impossible for anyone else to hear, but-- “I know,” Suri sighed. “I know I was stupid a while back.” “Suri, I - I didn’t mean--” “--I was expecting worse,” she scoffed, as she began collecting the needles with the small magnet in the basket. She stared at the floor for a moment, and bit her lip. “Thanks for, y’know, hiring me today. Prim probably would have laughed in my face, or called the cops, or… I dunno. I just need a job, and I’ve been fired from everywhere I’ve been. All they know me as is, well, the cheater. I’ve been thinking about escaping to Fillydelphia, but--” “--I can hire you, under my terms,” Coco offered. “I’ll work as Prim’s employee and you’ll work as mine. I’m… sort of a manager now. She’s promoted me, and I can afford to give you a small part-time job as my assistant, if you want.” Suri bit her lip. “You shouldn’t,” she mumbled. Coco nodded. “I know,” she replied as she sat back down into her chair. “But my friends taught me that a second chance is the hardest kind of generosity to spare somepony, but it’s probably my mini-superpower.” Suri placed the box of needles back onto the table, and smirked ever-so-slightly. “Nice mantra.” Coco could only smile. “By the way, I know you won’t forget, and I don’t expect you to, but thanks, again, for sort of forgiving me. I don’t know many ponies who would do that,” Suri added. “I’ve always been a bit of a witch.” “Never too late to change,” Coco said. “Yeah… you made me realize that,” Suri replied, daring to show a smile. “I’m glad,” Coco declared. Her heart and conscience were soaring with delight. She wasn’t a pushover… she was generous. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Grace let out a groan as she skimmed through the file cabinet. Where were those stupid posters and brochures? Today was the day Sapphire Shores was going to be doing a book signing on her memoir, and Grace don’t know how she forgot. Now, she only had an hour to put up fliers and give out information papers to everypony in the hotel. This was going to take a miracle -- but alas, in that moment, she didn’t sprout any wings. What a shame: flying always seemed like a fun idea. Finally, she found the package of bright blue papers and she scurried out from behind her desk, making a mad dash for the elevator. Sixty floors, with ten rooms per floor. She could do this: she had delivered one hundred boxes of Filly Scout cookies in less than four hours back when she was ten years old, how much harder could this be? “Come on, come on,” Grace muttered, as she jammed the button. “Open up, you stupid metal box.” Much to her dismay, the elevator wouldn’t open. She kicked the door in frustration and let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “The elevator broke sometime during lunch,” Baymont spoke up from his stop at the doorway. “Dammit!” Grace said. “How am I supposed to walk sixty floors?!” Baymont smirked. “Hang on, I know a guy,” he replied. He trotted over to the secretary desk, and took the phone, dialing up a number. “Hey, buddy, can you zip down here and help out my friend? Won’t take you longer than a minute, I bet.” He hung up and smiled. “No need to thank me, m’lady.” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Prince Charming,” she retorted, with an eyeroll. Baymont winked. “I caught your smile,” he teased. Grace lifted up the bundle of papers. “I will throw these at you,” she threatened. As he returned to his post, Baymont laughed. “You like tough love,” he mused. Just as she opened her mouth to shoot back another smart remark, Grace was startled as somepony suddenly dashed out from the stairwell. “Uh, are you Monty’s guy?” she asked. “Monty? Do I have another nickname?” “Shut up!” Grace called, not realizing that she was blushing. She turned back to the pony -- a tall, gangly orange-ish stallion with a wild brown curly mane. “So…. I don’t wanna sound like a beggar, but can you help me?” She almost dropped the box and nearly fell to her haunches as she tried to hold it. “Trust me, man, this is just as weird for you as it is me. I normally never ask anypony for anythin’. Just… help me, and I dunno, I’ll do ya one favor, like--” She stared at the box. “--you can have Sapphire’s autograph.” “Um, I’m not really a fan of her music,” the stallion replied. “I prefer polka. But I can always help a friend of a friend!” He took one of the boxes and hoisted it onto his back effortlessly, much to Grace’s awe. For a skinny fellow, he sure was strong. “What do you need with these?” “Just deliver one paper to each room. Can you walk from the thirtieth floor to the sixtieth in thirty minutes? I’ll hit the bottom part,” she requested. “Pfft, easy,” he said. “Besides, I know somepony.” Grace arched an eyebrow. Did everypony know ‘somepony’ in Manehattan? The stallion pulled a walkie-talkie out from underneath the shirt he was wearing and flicked it on. “Pinkie, I never thought I’d say this, but eat all of the sugar you can,” he said. “We’re gonna do a lot of running.” He shoved the device back into his shirt, and headed back to the stairwell. However, just before he left, he looked back. “By the way, never caught your name,” he said. “Grace,” she replied, with a small half-smile. “Grace Manewitz. Thanks for your help.” “Neato to meet you, Grace!” he smiled. “It’s no problem to help. The name’s Cheese Sandwich.” A moment of silence paused, and Grace blinked slowly. She had heard lots of strange names in the city, but this one was probably in a top five list. She tilted her head to the side and looked at the stallion, gazing over him for a moment. “Dude, why would your parents name you that?” she asked. “Did they hate you?” Cheese Sandwich gave a wordless shrug and zipped off, without another word. Meanwhile, Grace looked at the seemingly never-ending staircase and sighed deeply. “Well, Grace,” she said to herself. “This is what you get for not working at Ponyville in politics with Ma. You work at a crappy hotel and walk up stairs all day.” Author's Note Props to River Road for guessing the Background Elements meeting each other! --The Princess Rarity “Hey, buddy! Quit sleepin’ at the wheel if you wanna stay outta jail!”EVENT EIGHT: Going Home The second that the digital clock switched to 5:00, Grace threw the “CLOSED” sign onto her desk and let out a sigh of relief. After dealing with annoying customers, whiny brats and her boss yelling at her every other hour, this was the best thing that had happened to her today. Finally, she could go home, relax and get the rest she needed and deserved. She grabbed her purse from up off of the floor and slung it on. The concert tickets from Baymont fell out, and she frowned. She had until Sunday to think it over-- “So, how was your day?” Coco asked. Surprised at the fact that her friend was suddenly there, Grace stammered and shoved the tickets back into her purse. “The usual,” she grumbled. “Y’know, nothin’ special. You?” Coco had a bittersweet smile on her expression. “Not bad at all,” she mused. “Manewitz! Pommel!” the boss called. “You ain’t leavin’ early, are ya?” “It’s five o’ clock somewhere!” Grace argued. She looked to Coco and motioned towards the door. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand b’fore he yells at us some more,” she muttered. “I don’t take backtalk that easy, Manewitz!” the boss screamed after them as they left. Grace made a blah-blah motion with her hoof, and rolled her eyes. Coco stifled out a giggle and smirked ever-so-slightly. The two friends made their way down the city block, enjoying the strange harmony that was part of Manehattan in the early evening: ponies weren’t rushing as much as they were in the morning, the lights and signs lit up the city in a luminescent glow, and while it was noisy, it was sort of calming to those who were used to it. “Well, looks like we gotta suffer the subway,” Grace muttered as they passed a newspaper stand and noticed the glaring headline on one of the papers. Equestria Daily Monday, June 23rd, 2014 C.E. MANEHATTAN TAXI COMPANY SHUT DOWN With so many workers on strike due to being paid unfair wages, the company has fired all of the employees. Residents of the city will have to rely on other modes of public transportation to get to work until the company reopens. [read more on page twelve] Coco frowned. “Is it like a train?” she asked. Grace shrugged. “Kinda,” she said. “You’ll see for yourself.” Coco let out a sigh. “Now you have me worried,” she replied. “Ah, don’t you worry,” Grace laughed. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.” She noticed a stairwell heading underground over by a storefront. “Prepare yourself. You can either find the subway terrible or hilarious.” “Well then,” Coco mumbled, with a wary expression as she followed her friend down the steps. So far, it didn’t look very funny: the walls on the staircase were covered in muck and grime, with the occasional graffiti saying something explicit. The railings seemed to be dripping wet and covered in gum, which made Coco wrinkle her nose in disgust. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed the directions sign had various letters scraped off: it was a miracle that ponies could still read it. “Looks like we’re takin’ 583,” Grace said. “Keep an eye out for it, all of the trains look the same.” Coco nodded, but paid no attention to the locomotives revving through the station. Instead, she was more concerned about the scenery around her. In the corner near the snack bar, somepony was playing the guitar, badly. A broken baby carriage was lying next to the check in / check out desk and a group of teenagers sat on a bench, passing around a bottle and laughing obnoxiously loud. For a moment, Coco almost felt concerned for her safety. Grace nudged her friend. “Don’t worry, I got pepper spray in my bag,” she muttered. “But after all of the times I’ve attacked these losers, they know not to mess with me.” Coco went a new shade of white: if that was possible and she gulped. A sudden screeching was heard, and then, the whole underground shook violently as a metal locomotive pulled up. It’s horn blared, echoing loud enough possibly for those up above to hear. “Passengers for Downtown Manehattan, all aboard!” “That’s us,” Grace said, as she coughed. “Damn subway trains. Dunno what the Princesses were thinking, using oil for these things. It’s disgusting.” She led Coco onto the locomotive and held a hoof in front of her friend. “Whatever you do, don’t sit on the seats. Trust me, standing still for half an hour is worth it.” Suddenly, as if on cue, somepony else who boarded the train let out a loud shriek, and immediately began brushing themself off. Grace and Coco turned around, to see a mare wiping something off of her purple vest and trying to comb her blonde tail back to normal. “Disgusting, absolutely disgusting,” she muttered. “Gonna bet five bits she sat in vomit,” Grace winced. Coco hesitated. “A-are you sure we can’t walk home?” she inquired. Grace snorted. “And risk getting mugged? No thanks. Pepper spray only works against drunks and hobos, not thieves,” she retorted. She tapped Coco on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.” Coco slightly pouted but her expression quickly dropped as the locomotive started speeding off. “Hold on,” Grace chuckled as she grabbed one of the handles dangling from the ceiling. However, Coco let out a loud squeak and nearly fell forward, if she didn’t grab the nearby pole. Her face was inches away from the floor, and she frowned at the muck and grime on the metal tiles. She pulled herself up and stood on shaky legs while the subway train rumbled through the underground. The ponies traveling with them was certainly a strange lot: mixed in with homeless-looking folk, high-class business executives and everypony else in between. She felt nausea and lightheadedness overcome her emotions as the train began to sway, taking every turn possible. If the seats didn’t look so filthy, she would have sat down… ...but then, suddenly, the whole train shook in an unnatural way, causing some ponies to fall out of the seats or trip over their own two hooves. Grace was one of those poor, unfortunate souls, and she peeled herself off of the disgusting floor. “Hey, buddy!” she called to the train driver. “Quit sleepin’ at the wheel if you wanna stay outta jail!” She brushed herself off, and wrinkled her nose. “Ew, I’m gonna need a long shower to get rid of this shi-” She was cut off by a loud buzzing noise, and something flew right in front of her face. “Stupid bugs.” She waved her hoof to swat the creature away, but it only got louder. “I don’t like the subway,” Coco muttered, as she leaned up against the pole she was holding onto. “Me and you both,” Grace sighed. She continued swatting away the ‘bug’, but a loud sound of discomfort -- something between a squeal and a groan -- slipped past her lips when it landed on her nose. “Oh, yuck, what are you?” A loud squeaking, buzzing like noise, followed by gibberish escaped the creature, and Grace flicked it off. “Creepy little bastard,” she mumbled, watching the insect-like thing flutter off. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Coco bending over, and swaying ever-so-slightly. “You better not puke on me.” “You never told me it would be this bad,” Coco practically whined. Now, she was looking more green than white… Grace frowned. “First time is always the worst,” she admitted, with a shrug. “You get used to it.” However, Coco said nothing, and when the train stopped at a screeching halt, the doors opened, and she bolted out -- not even caring if this wasn’t her stop. Worried for her friend’s well-being, Grace dashed out after Coco and stopped suddenly when she noticed her friend crouched over a trash-can, vomiting. With a wince, Grace hesitantly stepped forward and patted Coco on the back. “Maybe walking home would have been a better idea,” she muttered. Author's Note I kid you not, public transport really is that bad. Or, at least it is in the city. --The Princess Rarity “If I wanted to hear that kind of crap, I’d be watching porn!”EVENT NINE: Home Sweet Home “Ok, marshmellow, lie down and chill out,” Grace said, as she carried her friend back into their flat. “I’ll make some dinner. You can watch tv or whatever until you feel better.” She placed Coco down onto the couch and ruffled her roommate’s mane. “No more subway, I promise.” “I thought you stopped with the marshmellow jokes,” Coco mumbled. “I helped you walk for three city blocks, and that’s all you can say?” Grace scoffed. She rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “The things I do for friendship.” “Now you know how I feel,” Coco replied, with a slight smirk. Grace stammered and stuttered in hopes for an equally smart remark back, but instead, she just let out a sigh, dropped her saddlebags, and shuffled into the kitchen. She frowned at the dirty dishes, and ignored them. Just because Coco was sick didn’t mean she was allowed to skimp out on her chores. Instead, Grace decided they could use paper plates… if they had any more, that is. She pried open the fridge, and looked for something, anything, to eat. She pulled out an old box of Japonese takeout, and gagged at the disgusting smell when she opened it. She tossed it into the nearby trashcan, then continued sifting through the things in the fridge… ...and all that was in there was a few condiments and half a gallon of milk. “Do ya want a ketchup, mayo, mustard sandwich for dinner?” Grace hollered. A loud groan from the living room made her realize that was most likely a no. Grace headed over to the cupboards, and found nothing inside, except a bag of paper plates and a box of stale Saltine crackers. Nothing at all to eat for dinner. “We got plates, but nothing to eat on ‘em,” she grumbled. “Guess we’ll order out.” She pulled open a drawer, and grabbed a hoofful of takeout menus she had both collected during her time of living in Manehattan, when days like this would pop up. “Coco! I’m calling for dinner, whatdya want?” “Don’t care,” Coco muttered. “So… how does Draconian Fried Fish sound to you?” Grace teased. “Order pizza,” Coco deadpanned, in her sick, groggy tone. Grace rolled her eyes at her friend’s inability to take a joke, and grabbed the phone. She dialed the number of the first pizza place she found, and was greeted by a mare with a very loud voice. “Uptown Pizzeria, where it’s at your house in thirty minutes or it’s free.” “Hey, can I get a--” Grace hesitated. “Yo! Coco, what kinda pizza do you want?” No reply came from the living room, leaving Grace to choose all on her own. She skimmed over the menu, only before finally replying. “I’ll take an extra large stuffed crust four cheese with mushrooms on top,” she said. “Ooh, and onion rings! Plus, a side of cheese fries, and bring a 2 liter of ginger ale while you’re at it.” “Address?” “The Cityview Apartments, downtown Manehattan,” Grace responded. “Tenth floor, room 56.” “And any other specifications?” “Huh?” Grace asked. “Whatdya mean?” “Don’t ask me, I just take orders, it’s apparently all I’m good for in this department,” the mare on the other line grumbled. “You can have your pizza delivered in a special manner, I suppose?” A huff escaped her. “Trixie has so much more potential than this…” “Uh, ok, um,” Grace stammered. “Send us your cutest delivery pony, I guess?” A snort was heard. “Good luck on that one,” she muttered. With that, the line went dead. Grace hung up the phone, and shook her head. One of the worst possible things about living in the city: everypony was so rude. Then again, she should know -- she was one of them from time to time… She shuffled into the living room, and noticed her roommate half-asleep. “Hey, c’mon, marshmellow, stay awake,” Grace spoke up, as she sat down on the couch and nudged her friend. “I got pizza, and we’ll watch some movies. That’ll cheer you up, yeah?” She twirled the DVD rack next to the sofa, and looked through the discs. “Let’s see, how ‘bout Filly Bueller's Day Off? Harry Trotter & The Half-Blood Princess? Nightmare Moon on Elm Street?” She pulled out a case wedged under the bottom of the rack and smiled. “Hey, isn’t The Sun Princess one of your favorites?” Coco wearily opened her eyes, looked at the cover of the case and nodded. Grace got up, adjusted the tv on the kitchen counter to face the living room, and popped open the DVD player, sliding the disc in as she started up the movie. She looked at the back of the case, and snorted. “Man, this description is a lie,” she said. “I mean, I’m no nerd, but ya think they would just be honest and say, ‘This movie is Disneigh’s historically inaccurate version of Princess Celestia’s rise to the throne where we switched around some names.’ or somethin’ like that.” Coco was indifferent, and was too busy already watching the opening sequence with the traditional blue and white Disneigh castle. Grace sat down next to her friend, about to enjoy the film as well, when … it had begun. Screaming and banging from all sides of their flat started up. On the left, the two crazy musicians were arguing (or doing ‘other’ things, judging from the slight moans heard), and on the right, in the halfway house where somepony different always lived, the television was too loud, while upstairs, the crazy cat lady was chasing after her dozens of pets… “We can’t catch a frickin’ break around here!” Grace said exasperatedly. She stumbled out of her seat, marched over to the left wall, and banged on the ridiculously thin walls. “Knock it off, you two! If I wanted to hear that kind of crap, I’d be watching porn!” she yelled. Suddenly, that side went quiet, but one of them yelled back, “I wish we were doing it!” Grace snorted, and crossed the room, knocking on the other wall. “Turn it off or I call the cops!” Then finally, she opened the nearby closet, grabbed a broom and smacked it against the ceiling. “Get rid of the cats, you crazy witch!” she shrieked. Frustrated, Grace threw down the broom, plopped back onto the couch and tried her hardest to focus on the animated classic, despite the chaos going on around her. “Uncle Metamorphosis, when I’m Princess, what will that make you?” “A griffon’s uncle, my dear Aurora.” “Heh, you’re so weird.” “...you have no idea.” “Meh, I’ve seen this a dozen times,” Grace muttered. “I’m gonna go get cleaned off. Call me in when they start singing or it gets good.” She rolled out of her seat one last time, and made her way into the bathroom to wash whatever muck had gotten onto her from the disgusting incident on the subway. She loosened her tie, and threw it onto the floor as she pushed aside the shower curtain. She frowned as she noticed the rust forming near the spigot, and hesitantly reached out, turning the knob to get the water started… ...yet nothing came out. Grace raised an eyebrow, and put both of the faucets on full-blast, but no water was flowing. “Oh, come on!” she shrieked. She stomped out of the bathroom, and tried turning on the sink in the kitchen, but nothing. A loud exasperated groan slipped out of her mouth. “What’s wrong?” Coco asked, looking away from the movie. “The water isn’t on!” Grace said. “What kind of bullshit is that?” “Was it working this morning?” Coco inquired. “Yeah, it was working!” Grace replied. She kicked the side of the sink, and opened the cupboard underneath, looking around. “There’s nothin’ wrong with the pipes, and we just paid the bill.” “Maybe it’s something with the landlord?” Coco suggested. Grace snorted. “Old man Lurch probably would pull that kinda stunt,” she growled. “Now what?” Coco got up from her seat -- obviously now feeling a lot better, with her motion sickness now subsided -- and she crouched down, glancing at the pipes underneath the sink. “Well, I don’t see any sort of problem, and I’m not really a plumber,” she stammered. “Maybe you should call and ask?” Grace let out a groan. “Man, it’s late, I don’t wanna hear that creep!” she whined. Coco sighed. “Well… I guess all we can do is wait until it comes back on,” she said. Grace frowned. “Damn,” she muttered. A knock on the door was heard, alerting the two of them from their momentary dilemma. Grace headed over, and swung open the door, surprised to see a pizza delivery pony already there. “Wow, that was fast, “ she complimented. “That’ll be twenty-five bits, ma’am,” the delivery pony replied, as she held out the box and folded her wings back under her work outfit. Grace took the box, and lugged it over to the kitchen counter. She rummaged through her saddlebags and found her purse. She was literally scraping for money, only before she let out a frustrated sigh. She looked back, giving Coco a beckoning look. With a small roll of her eyes, Coco went over to her own bag, and took out a hoofful of bits. “Here ya go,” Grace said, shoving exactly twenty-five bits into the other pony’s hoof. The delivery pony blew her bright yellow bangs out of her face and hesitated. “Um, miss?” Grace pushed her glasses up further and raised an eyebrow. “You ain’t getting a tip, seeing how they didn’t follow my special instructions,” she retorted. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.” “Wait… what?” “You heard me.” “Uh, ok,” the delivery pony muttered, as she flew off down the hall and left. Grace let out a light snort, and softly chuckled. She noticed Coco’s slight glare, and put her hooves up in defense. “What? She wasn’t that cute. Maybe if she dyed her mane or somethin’,” she mumbled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something taped on the door, and she ripped it off. Dear Residents of the Cityview Apartments, Due to the water main break Uptown, the pipes have been turned off for your safety. They should be turned back on sometime tomorrow evening. Sincerely, Founder / Manager / Landlord Lurch “Great,” Grace muttered sarcastically. “Just great.” “At least we have dinner,” Coco piped up, as she opened up the box and took out the pizza and other appetizers, making a plate for herself. Grace gave a half-hearted shrug. “I guess so,” she said as she walked over, and popped open the soda. Coco brought over the bag of plastic cups, and Grace poured each of them a glass. “A toast to surviving another day in the city,” she joked, holding up her drink. “To surviving in the city,” Coco laughed. The two of them tapped their cups, drinking to friendship, the typical chaos of life, and whatever else came their way in this crazy city. Especially now that loud sirens were heard down below on the streets… “Now if only I had some vodka to put in this,” Grace grumbled as she sipped her soda. ~ la fin ~ Author's Note Aaaand we come to a close, ladies and gents! The day is over for Grace and Coco, and I hope you all enjoyed reading their crazy life. I know I had fun writing it! :) I appreciate each and every favorite, upvote and comment! Thanks for making this featured, too! It means the world to me. I'll probably write more with this wacky duo sometime in the future, but for now, who knows?! --The Princess Rarity Also, yes, I mentioned Ferris Bueller's Day Off on purpose, teehee. “If it were me, I might’ve called a restraining order.”EVENT SIX: Lunch Break “Wait? You did what?” Grace muttered through a mouthful of chips. “Coco, are you buckin’ crazy?!” “No,” Coco mumbled as she poked at her salad. “I just thought--” “--you sure as hay weren’t thinkin’, hiring her to be your assistant for the day,” Grace interrupted. She paused to take a sip of her hay cola. “She cheated, treated you like crap and lied to get her way to the top. Then, she tried to brainwash you to be the same way! She was takin’ your little marshmellow brain and trying to squish it into what she wanted!” “Can you please stop with the marshmellow gag?” Coco sighed. “It’s getting old.” “Fine, but whatever,” Grace continued, with a wave of her hoof. “That Suri, Zuri, whatever the hay her name is -- she’s bad news. I dunno why you gave her a second chance.” Coco hesitated, and shrugged. “Maybe she’ll say sorry,” she said softly. Grace snorted. “After the stories you told me? Doubt it.” She picked up a piece of her mini pizza and bit into it. “You want a slice?” Coco shook her head. “She, um, told me you spit coffee at her,” she added. “That was actually an accident,” Grace defended. “But totally worth it!” “Still--” “You’re not actually trying to find good in her, are ya?” Coco gave a silent half-hearted shrug. She stuffed a piece of dressing-soaked lettuce into her mouth to make an excuse not to talk, but that certainly didn’t prevent Grace from continuing to gab away. “I mean, ok, she’s not a killer or psycho or whatever, but she’s still a bi--” Grace stopped herself, knowing that her friend wasn’t really a fan of vulgarities. “Er, witch. And those are the kinda ponies you wanna stay away from. Sure, I got my moments like that, but at least I ain’t purposely hurting other ponies like she was, y’know?” “I understand,” Coco replied, as she picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth. “I just think that maybe, she has another chance inside of her.” She looked away and refused to make eye contact with her friend. “I’m being too nice, aren’t I?” A moment of silence passed between the two friends, only before Grace let out a sigh. “Nah,” she declared. “You’re not. You’re just being Coco.” “Is… that a good thing?” “Definitely,” Grace assured. “If it was anypony else, they woulda let whatsername onto the street with nothin’. You were nice enough to let her try again. That’s a mini superpower, I think.” She softly chuckled and shook her head playfully. “If it were me, I might’ve called a restraining order.” Coco smiled, and let out a soft giggle. “Good,” she murmured. “So, how’s your day been?” Grace let out a groan. “I do not wanna talk about it,” she said simply, as she shoved another piece of pizza into her mouth. Despite this, she kept talking. “It wasn’t, y’know, bad or anythin’ but it’s confusing and I swear, the bossman is an effin’ idiot. He tells me, translate the papers, so I do, but then he yells at me for not puttin’ them into a folder! Like, wow, stapling ‘em together is so bad.” She rolled her eyes. “Did your new assistant give you any crap?” Coco shook her head. “Not actually,” she mused. “She’s surprisingly nice.” Grace snorted. “Maybe she’s just waitin’ for the right moment to strike?” She noticed the slight glare Coco gave her and sighed. “Can’t take a joke?” Coco rolled her eyes, and ate the last few bits of her salad, just as one of the waiters came over. “Hi there, ladies, how’re ya doin’?” “Oh, are you kidding me--” Grace mumbled. “S-Silver Shill!” Coco squeaked out. She looked up and smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here!” “Heh, yeah,” Silver Shill said, scratching the back of his neck. “I was hired yesterday. Hopefully, they won’t fire me again. I mean, it’s not too hard! Just serve up food and take orders, easy enough.” “And come over to flirt with the customers,” Grace whispered under her breath. Coco looked over to her friend. “Excuse me?” she asked. Grace pulled out an innocent -- yet all the while teasing -- smile. “Nothing,” she softly sang. “Uh-huh,” Coco said slowly. She looked back over to Silver Shill, and her smile returned. “So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a little while. Did you move out of the clown camp yet?” “Thankfully, yeah,” Silver Shill laughed. “I found a decent complex.” “If you ever need help with the rent, just call me,” Coco assured. “I can lend you a few bits.” “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Silver Shill stammered. “I-in fact, I wanna pay you back for the one time you had to buy me lunch last week. H-how about I take you out to dinner on Friday night?” He nervously laughed, and managed a lopsided smile. “Y’know, seeing how you kinda already have lunch.” “I… I’d like that,” Coco grinned. “If you two are gonna kiss, just get it over with already!” Grace blurted out. “Grace!” Coco practically shrieked, as her face went red. “Uh, I should get back to work,” Silver Shill said quickly. He hesitated and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Coco’s blushing cheek. “I’ll pick you up at seven, bye!” Then, he dashed off, leaving Coco stammering and stuttering. Grace softly laughed, and smirked. “All he needed was a little push,” she said. Coco held her face into her hooves. “I can’t believe that happened--” “--why? You don’t like him?” “--no, I do--” “I knew it!” Grace exclaimed, shooting a hoof up into the air victoriously. “Can I plan your wedding?” “Shut up,” Coco grumbled. “You two are pretty cute, though,” Grace said. “Surprised he didn’t ask you out earlier.” “Do you live to embarrass me?” Coco mumbled. Grace pursed her lips in thought as she dipped one of her plain potato chips into the leftover sauce from her pizza. She brought the treat to her mouth and chewed it for a moment, only before she nodded. “I’d say so,” she muttered. “Why are we friends?” Coco sighed. “Because you needed a place to live and I couldn’t afford my apartment,” Grace said simply. “It all went to Tartarus from there, I think.” Author's Note D'aww, lookit these cute friends~ ...and yup, I ship Silver Shill x Coco Pommel. I forget who thought up the pairing, but if they're reading this: I thank them because holy crap is it cute! I hope I converted you lot to it, or at least opened your eyes to the adorableness. Anywho, because of life / my writing career possibly going somewhere and other stories in progress, this story's daily updates will cease. Might be bi-weekly, or something like that. But don't worry, you'll still get the awesomeness! So... what's going to happen? Will Coco confront Suri? Is Grace ever going to stop being so awesomely sarcastic and snarky? What's the rest of the work day like for this duo? Find out in the next installment of Misadventures in Manehattan! --The Princess Rarity Who says you can't go home?HELLO, THY FAIR READERS. WE HAVETH AN ANNOUNCEMENT FOR Y'ALL. THERE IS A SEQUEL TO THIS BELOVED STORY. OUR HEROINES WILL LEAVE THE CITY AND HEAD TO A SMALL TOWN. ... *ahem* So yeah. There's a sequel out. Go read it! Y'know, if you want. Predicaments in Ponyville
“Stupid Mondays should just throw ‘emselves off of a cliff.”Misadventures in Manehattan by The Princess Rarity EVENT ONE: Waking Up It’s a popular saying - and fact - that Manehattan is the city that never sleeps. What with so many attractions and businesses, it couldn’t afford to do such a thing. Lights lit up the night sky, and when sunlight made it’s way across the horizon, it was equally bright. In the early hours, the only difference to tell between night and day would most likely be the sound of an alarm clock shrieking. Grace let out a loud groan as she reached over, attempting to crush the digital appliance, with no such luck. Instead, the beeping only increased and she growled, reaching down and unplugging the clock. With a sigh at the relief of silence, she fumbled for her glasses and slid them on clumsily. She blinked rapidly for her eyes to adjust with the harsh light of waking up, and grimaced at the realization that today was Monday. Like any reasonable pony, Grace despised Mondays. Mondays were a fresh new beginning to a week. Mondays meant work. Mondays were full of chaos downtown. Mondays seemed to drag on forever. In short, Mondays sucked. The clock on the bedside table was stuck at reading 7:00 am. Grace contemplated if she could lay in bed for just a few more minutes. After all, she could be dressed and ready within two minutes and breakfast wasn’t always that important… ...then again, her grumbling stomach said otherwise. Ok, maybe breakfast was important. But still, ten more minutes in bed wouldn’t kill her, would it? She could still hail a cab and be to work on time even if she slept in a little. Her golden eyes fluttered close, and she was about to snuggle back under her comforter, when a loud snore from across the room caused her to let out a frustrated sigh. Pulling the blanket over her face to block out the noise, Grace couldn’t believe she had slept through that annoyance. It seemed as if she had no choice but to get up now. “I hate Mondays,” Grace mumbled as she trudged out of her extremely comfortable bed and trekked across the cold hardwood floor that shocked her awake with every step she took. “Stupid Mondays should just throw ‘emselves off of a cliff.” She entered the kitchen and flicked on the electric coffee pot, letting the caffeinated beverage percolate while she slid into the nearby bathroom. Her face had creases from the position she had been sleeping in, while her mane was hanging limp and frazzled. Grace reached for a brush and began fussing with the tangles, while she turned on the water. She placed the brush down and splashed her face, trying to feel refreshed, but it didn’t work at all. Instead, she was spitting out lukewarm water and feeling groggy. She snatched a washcloth and wiped the water off of her glasses, realizing how stupid she was for leaving them on while washing her face. Mornings in general were terrible, actually. A knock on the door was heard, and Grace rolled her eyes. “Coco!” she called. “Can you get up and answer the door?!” The only reply was another snore. Grace realized that for such a quiet, calm pony, her roommate was probably the loudest snorer in all of Equestria. Now, the doorbell went off. “Coco! Answer it!” Grace yelled, as she went back to brushing her mane. Instead of words, there were snores. Again. Grace let out an exasperated sigh, and threw her head back in frustration. She tossed her brush down onto the countertop and shuffled out of the bathroom. She sneered at the sight of Coco, splayed out on the sofa bed and cuddled with her blankets, blissfully unaware to the fact that it was morning. Grace considered leaving her roommate there to sleep and miss work, but she wasn’t cruel. Instead, she decided waking Coco up late on purpose would be far more entertaining. There was one last knock on the door, before Grace swung it open. She recognized the pony standing there, but she couldn’t recall the name at this moment. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, whatdya want?” she muttered. “I was told that this was the residence of Coco Pommel?” “Um, yeah,” Grace mumbled. “She lives here.” A snore was heard. “Can I take a message?” “Just tell her Rarity dropped off these,” the pony said as she levitated a paper bag out of her saddlebags. “I was hoping to talk to her before I leave the city today, but if she’s, er, busy--” “--oh, no, not at all. In fact, I remember you now,” Grace replied. “Gimme a minute.” She took the bag and placed the parcel down onto the floor. Then, she climbed onto the sofa bed. Surprisingly, Coco didn’t stir in the slightest, so drastic times definitely called for drastic measures. Grace picked up one of the closest pillows, lifted it up and inhaled a deep breath. “Coco! Wake up!” she screamed, as she began beating her roommate with the pillow. “Your sexy boss is here and she’ll fire your ass if you don’t get outta bed!” That obviously did the trick. Within milliseconds, Coco was wide awake and practically shaking. “Wh-wha?” she sputtered out, trying to block the pillow swats. Grace stiffened her lip and her expression displayed the fact that she was trying so hard not to burst into hysterical laughter. It was almost hilarious how Coco’s embarrassment was glowing as bright as a flashlight in a dark room. “She, uh… Miss Rarity isn’t my boss,” she managed to stutter out. “Well, you wouldn’t have a job if it wasn’t for her, so she’s your boss, according to me,” Grace retorted as she slapped Coco with the pillow one more time for good measure. Coco laughed nervously and Grace waved a hoof. “Ah, I get it, I’ll leave you two crazy kids alone,” she smirked. “I’ll be in the kitchen watching tv and eating cereal.” She eyed the pony, Rarity, in the doorway and gave a wink. “Call me sometime?” “I beg your pardon--” “--Grace, please go away,” Coco groaned as she fell back onto the bed. “C’est la vie,” Grace said, with a mock sigh and a soft chuckle. Author's Note A character who needs development? Consider it done! I know I have enough projects to work on, but this was too good of an idea not to write, so I'm taking y'all on another crazy roller coaster ride with me. You guys better buckle up! The idea of these two being an odd couple was so appealing to me, it seriously wouldn't leave me alone. Why they haven't been written together before is beyond me, but oh well. Please comment, upvote, favorite and all of that crazy awesome junk. Chapter Two should be released shortly. --The Princess Rarity
“Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?”EVENT TWO: Eating Breakfast “Hey… where did she come from?” “What -- are you saying that because she doesn’t look like us?” “Rude!” Grace laughed at the sitcom she was watching, and she shoveled another spoonful of sugar-filled cereal she was eating into her mouth. The sound of the front door slamming close alerted her away from the show momentarily, but she couldn’t help but smile when Coco shuffled into the kitchen, looking both embarrassed and aggravated. “I really wish you wouldn’t do stuff like that,” she sighed as she grabbed the box of cereal and looked around for a bowl. “Where are the dishes?” “It was your turn to wash ‘em,” Grace replied. She looked back to the small television resting on the kitchen countertop and scowled when she noticed that it was a commercial. Instantly, she picked up the remote and switched the channel. “What are you doing?!” “Helping!” “You’ve got a screwdriver, go build a cabinet!” With one look at the strange aliens in the program, Grace let out a loud “Nope” as she changed the channel. She came across ridiculous children’s shows, monotonous news, a soap opera in Sponesh and a few game shows, when she finally settled on a cartoon. “Who’s that Ponymon?!” “It’s the stupid goldfish one!” Grace yelled at the tv. Coco rolled her eyes at her roommate’s immaturity, and was slightly perplexed as she noticed a note taped onto the cupboard’s door. Dear Coco, I don’t want to sound like a slut, but feel free to do me anytime you like. Sincerely, The Dishes “Was this really necessary?” she asked. Too engrossed in a commercial featuring a new form of silly string, Grace kept eating her cereal and purposely ignored her friend. Of course, this caused Coco to let out a sigh. She eyed the sink full of dirty plates, and decided she would wash them after work, if she found time. Instead, she grabbed the biggest mug hanging off of the wall and carried it over to the table. She took the box of cereal and poured it into the cup, using it as a makeshift bowl for the time being. “Aren’t there supposed to be marshmellows in this?” Coco asked, as she picked up a spare spoon lying on the table and poked at the frosted oats. Grace nodded. “Yeah,” she said through a mouthful of sugar. “I might’ve separated the cereal and the marshmellows.” Coco frowned. “Well… can you share some?” Grace tore her gaze away from the show and looked to her roommate thoughtfully for a moment. She ate another spoonful of marshmellows and held back a smirk. “Wouldn't that count as cannibalism?” she mused. “What do you mean?” Coco inquired as she got up to get milk out of the fridge. “Well, think about it,” Grace explained. “Typically, marshmellows are white, and they’re squishy. You’re a white pony and--” She reached across the table and poked Coco’s hoof when she sat back down. “You’re definitely squishy. Maybe you’re distantly related to marshmellows or somethin’.” “That’s racist! Not all white ponies are marshmellows,” Coco argued. “How is it racist?” Grace laughed. “It’s just an observation.” Coco fell silent as she poured milk into the cup and ate a spoonful of cereal. “Ok, maybe not racist,” she mumbled. “But it doesn’t make any sense.” Grace carelessly shrugged. “Life doesn’t make any sense,” she said. She pushed the bowl over to her friend. “Go one, take ‘em. I don’t like the green ones, anyway.” She got up from the table and shuffled across the floor. She reached for the coffee pot and was about to grab a mug, when she looked around, but found none. “See?! This is what happens when you don’t do the dishes, ya marshmellow.” “Is that my new nickname now?” Coco muttered. “Yup,” Grace replied. “Great. Looks like I’ll have to use one of these.” She yanked the package of red plastic cups out from under the sink and pulled one out. She poured the coffee into the cup, and instantly chugged the drink down. “Ah, that’s the stuff,” she grinned. However, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Coco grab the remote and change the channel. “Hey! I was watching Ponymon!” “But you’ve seen that episode before,” Coco retorted. “Still,” Grace muttered. “The news sucks, why are you putting that on? It’s all boring politics crap on how our monarchy is buckin’ everything up and then, it’s bogus stories about how another puppy got rescued from a well or some idiot supposedly ‘fell’ off of a train platform.” “I just want to see the weather,” Coco said. “And besides, the puppy stories are cute.” Grace rolled her eyes and refilled her cup of coffee. “Whatever,” she muttered. She took another sip of her coffee, and then headed out of the kitchen, directly into the small living quarters she called her bedroom. Then again, seeing how the flat was so small, it was also technically Coco’s storage space. The apartment definitely wasn’t worth almost two thousand bits a month -- but it was the only thing they could get. Grace fiddled through the drawers: finding spare glasses, boxes of unused contact lenses, a few hoodies and socks that belonged to her roommate, when she finally came across the spot that held their ties and collars, respectively. “Hey, marshmellow, you gonna wear a collar today?!” Grace hollered. “Yes, please!” Grace fetched one of the multiple identical collars and a blue tie for herself. Her lucky black one was dirty and stained with who knows what from Friday’s incident with a homeless man. She threw the tie around her neck and went back into the kitchen. She tossed the collar over to Coco, and looked to the news. “What kinda horseshit did Celestia do this time?” Grace groaned as she saw the Sun Princess on the television screen. “Grace! Language!” Coco corrected. “I can’t help it, the news aggravates me,” Grace defended, without prying her eyes away from the so-called breaking news. “Really? Her niece is expecting a baby and that’s breaking news?” She snorted. “Well, at least another pony didn’t get stabbed.” Coco let out a sigh of exasperation and shook her head. She drank the last remnants of her breakfast and grabbed her collar. She tied it on expertly without even looking as she kept her focus on the news. “And this just in-” the news anchor said. “-starting today, cab drivers in Manehattan, Fillydelphia, Los Pegasus, Neigh Jersey and Baltimare will be going on strike. The service will be shut down for as long as the strike goes on. Let’s take the story down to Action Announcer, who’s right outside.” The screen flipped to another pony. “Hello, Channel 3, and I’m here at the Manehattan Cab Office, talking with a driver,” she said. “Now, sir, can you tell me why you’re on strike?” The camera showed an angry stallion, who was shaking his hoof. “We cannot take it anymore!” he yelled in an accent -- Germane, perhaps. “I cannot pay for my wife and kids with only five bits an hour! Raise the minimum wage to fifteen or I quit!” Grace frowned. “Dammit, we can’t get to work with a taxi now,” she muttered. On the other hoof, Coco was genuinely worried. “So how are we gonna get there?!” she said panickedly. “It’s too far to walk!” Grace scoffed, and waved her hoof. “Calm down, marshmellow, we’ll just take another mode of public transport, no big deal,” she replied. “It ain’t desirable but, y’know. It’ll have to do.” Coco cocked her head to the side. “What other way is there?” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Ya never been on the subway?” she questioned. “No,” Coco replied. “I haven’t been in Manehattan as long as you.” “Well then,” Grace mused, trying to hide her smirk. “This morning’s commute should be fun.” Author's Note Aaah, I love making Grace a snarky lil witch. She seems like that type for some reason. But now, these two friends will face one of the worst tasks of the day: traveling to work! I appreciate all of the faves and stuff so far. You guys are awesome. --The Princess Rarity
“How's 'bout we skip work & protest to legalize weed instead?”EVENT THREE: Daily Commute “Hurry up!” Grace called. “I am!” Coco hollered back. “You have a shorter mane and tail than me, how long does it take to brush it?!” Grace groaned. She looked at her wristwatch and sighed. “I’m leaving without you if you’re not done in one minute! The train arrives earlier than a cab, y’know! And you can’t catch another one once ya miss it!” Coco rushed out of the bathroom and adjusted her hairpin. “Ok, ok, I’m here,” she said quickly. She picked her saddlebags up off of the floor and hoisted them on. “Did you get lunch?” Grace rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mom,” she retorted sarcastically. “Now, let’s get the hay out of here.” She swung open the door, and winced at the sound of screaming from everypony else in their complex. Another downside of living in an apartment - having little to no separation from their neighbors. It didn’t help that they lived next door to some really crazy ponies… “Vinyl, why did you waste all your entire paycheck on a stereo system we will never use?!” “Aw, c’mon, Tavi-babe, don’t hate me because I’m beautiful!” “That doesn’t even make any sense!” “Your face doesn’t make any sense!” “I swear, I’m married to a foal.” “A very sexy foal.” “...You’re sleeping on the couch tonight for that sick joke.” Grace shoved a hoof in her mouth to prevent herself from laughing out loud at the dialogue from the ponies who lived next door. Meanwhile, Coco was just shaking her head. The two of them listened to the screams of other ponies, mixed in with the few cries and wails of children. Grace was about to push the button for the elevator, when her jaw fell to the floor as she read a note taped onto the wall. Dear Residents of the Cityview Apartments, The elevators are out of order for this week. They should be back in function by the end of the month. Please use the stairs. Sincerely, Founder / Manager / Landlord Lurch “I hate that mule,” Grace grumbled. “What a creep he is, too.” “Grace, please don’t start--” Coco sighed. “--I’m serious!” Grace argued as she walked over and swung open the door to the stairwell. “Have you seen that guy?” She stretched out a sick, twisted smile and she crossed her eyes. “Not only is the dude ancient but he’s just plain weird. He’s, like, the center of kids’ nightmares.” Coco said nothing and rolled her eyes as she started heading down the steps. “What?” Grace called after her friend. “C’mon, I know it’s not just me! He’s not called Lurch for nothin’!” “G’morning, ladies,” a monotone voice said. It startled both Grace and Coco, who nearly fell off of the platform as they noticed their landlord standing there, staring at them with the same strange grin Grace had mimicked. “Off to work?” the stallion droned, scratching his whiskers. “Y-yessir,” Coco said softly. “That’s nice,” Lurch muttered, with a heavy sigh. “Well, I better go. I gotta go upstairs and clean Miss Tabby’s carpets.” “Ya mean the crazy lady who lives above us?” Grace retorted. “Dude, it’s been over six months since her carpets have started reeking of cat shi-” “-have a nice day, Mr. Lurch, bye!” Coco said quickly as she took her roommate’s hoof and pulled a protesting Grace the rest of the way down. “Didn’t your mother ever wash your mouth out with soap when you were a filly?” “Nope,” Grace smirked. “That’s ‘cause I was smart enough not to swear in front of my ma.” “Of course,” Coco said, with a shake of her head. “So, how do we get to the subway?” “Follow my lead,” Grace declared. She led her friend out of the complex building and they started their trek down the block towards the train station. Weaving one’s way through the crowds of Downtown Manehattan wasn’t an easy task. Like many things in life, it was something that had to be practiced over and over. Grace had been residing in this city for almost a year now, while Coco was still new to the whole routine, what with only being in Manehattan for two months. Keeping up with Grace was a struggle in itself, seeing how she practically ran across the pavement, leaving Coco in the dust. ...however, Grace suddenly halted as a huge crowd passed through the streets, screaming and hollering about something. Signs were being held up, flags flew and ponies were marching around, thus blocking traffic in the process. It didn’t take a genius to find out that this was a protest. “Aw, you gotta be buckin’ kidding,” Grace mumbled. “Move it, hippies!” she yelled. Her words fell on deaf ears as the march continued, and seemed to never end. Coco frowned. “So, how are we going to get to work now?” she asked worriedly. Grace tapped her chin with a hoof and pursed her lips in thought. “I got an idea,” she mused. She took Coco’s hoof and dragged her into the crowd. “Hey, man, what are we protesting ‘bout?” A pale yellow stallion with his green mane tied into dreadlocks looked over to her. “We’re tryna to legalize weed,” he explained. “The governor vetoed it so we’re gonna protest the hay out of it ‘til he lets us be free! This is Equestria!” He shot his hoof up into the air and cheered, while other ponies followed. Grace nodded. “Cool, I smoked weed back in college,” she said. “Mind if my friend and I join ya?” “Wh-what?!” Coco squeaked out. “I - I don’t smoke marijuana, though! I’ve never touched drugs!” Of course, as expected of her, Grace nudged Coco and gave a wink. “How's 'bout we skip work and protest to legalize weed instead?” she asked. It took a moment, but the pieces of the strange puzzle eventually fell into place in Coco’s mind. She faked a smile and a laugh. “Yeah, sure!” she lied. The stallion gave a goofy grin. “Work blows,” he agreed. “Totally!” Grace said, with a genuine smile. “Yo, where can we get one of those signs?” “Go ask Hot Shot, he’s on the other side of the line--” “K, thanks, bye!” Grace replied, as she started trampling over everypony else, while dragging Coco. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the two of them fell out the other side of the line, breathing heavily and faintly smelling of drugs. Fortunately, Coco pulled out a small bottle from her saddlebags and began squirting her friend with it. “Great, now I smell like a hooker!” Grace argued. “It's only perfume,” Coco said, as she spritzed herself. “Besides, do you want the boss to think you do drugs? This masks some of the scent.” She slid the bottle back into her purse when suddenly, Grace noticed a yellow carriage. “Oi, marshmellow, this might just be our lucky day,” she mumbled. She started waving her hooves like a crazy pony. “Hey! You, with the hat! You workin’ that thing?” The mare standing next to the carriage nodded, and waved her wing. “Well, whatdya know,” Grace smiled. “We can get a taxi after all.” As they both began walking over to the cab, Coco knit her eyebrows and stared at her friend. “How do you know what a prostitute smells like anyway?” she asked. Author's Note So, looks like they didn't have to take the subway after all. But dealing with protesters is always a strange experience, so there was that. I personally experience the pain Grace and Coco have in their apartment. Thankfully, I don't live in a complex, but I do have ridiculously loud neighbors who scream at ungodly hours who are right next door and I gotta deal with a very creepy landlord who almost never fixes anything. Also, yay for cameos! --The Princess Rarity
“I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--”EVENT FOUR: Checking Into Work “Manewitz! Pommel!” Both mares froze as they heard their names being called as they entered the hotel at which they worked at. Cautiously, they turned around and noticed their boss standing there, with a big fat cigar between his teeth and his usual grimace shining. “...you’re here early, ladies,” he muttered. “Well, y’know us,” Grace said, with a fake laugh. “Earth pony work ethic and all that.” “Uh-huh,” the bossman replied sarcastically. He gestured to the front desk. “Well, Manewitz, I got some documents in from Prance. I want ‘em translated and on my desk by noon. Pommel, just ‘cause you work part-time on Bridleway now, don’t think I’m kissin’ yer hooves. I still need ya to sew drapes for our upcoming makeover.” Coco and Grace nodded in unison, and let out a sigh of relief as their employer walked off. “He was unusually nice for once,” Grace mumbled. “Normally he yells at us for a good half hour, then accuses us of bein’ late.” She slid behind her desk, plugged into her typewriter and sat down, readying her supplies as she tried to find the documents she was supposed to work on. “I’ll see you at lunch?” Coco said, with a hopeful smile. “If I don’t stab myself with this pencil, then yeah, probably,” Grace replied. She let out a groan and threw up her hooves. “See? I just got to work, and I already hate it.” “Why, good morning, fillies!” a voice called. Coco looked back, while Grace tried to slide underneath her desk, but with no such luck. “Oh, hello, Baymont,” Coco smiled. “I see you there, Gracie~” Baymont practically sang. “Don’t call me that,” Grace deadpanned as she stared at the doorman. “Whatdya want?” “I just came to say hi,” Baymont defended. “Is that a crime?” Grace opened her mouth to make one of her usual smart remarks, when Coco spoke up in her sweet, polite manner. She grinned at Baymont and shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured. Baymont returned the grin to Coco, but it was clearly obvious that his attentions weren’t on her whatsoever -- but rather, her coworker was who he kept staring at. “So, Gracie--” “--Grace. My name is Grace.” “--you look cute when you’re frustrated,” he laughed. “Shut up,” Grace muttered. She crossed her forehooves like a child and glared at him. “Now, I’ll say it again, whatdya want? Are ya just here to bother me, like you do ev’ryday?” “Your words wound me, Miss Manewitz,” Baymont said, with a mock gasp. He placed a hoof to his chest, as if his heart was breaking. “I was simply going to ask how your weekend was, that’s all. Is it wrong for me to enjoy talking to a nice mare like yourself?” “No, you enjoy annoying me,” Grace argued. “And my weekend was fine, thankyouverymuch. Me and Coco here marathoned a bunch of Disneigh movies and I spent Saturday night getting wasted with an old friend of mine. Any other questions? ‘cause unlike you, I got an important job. I don’t just smile and wave to ponies.” Baymont rolled his eyes playfully. “You like playin’ hard to get, I understand that,” he said. Grace frowned. “I like avoiding you,” she shot back. Baymont winked. “Of course you do,” he smirked as he turned around and headed back to his post outside. “Stupid idiot,” Grace mumbled under her breath. She spun around in her chair and went back to focusing on her work, when Coco looked over to her friend and spoke up. “He seems nice -- why are you so rude to him?” she asked. “Meh, I’m rude to everyone,” Grace retorted. “But he’s the main annoyance of my work day.” “Really? How?” Coco inquired. Over the time she had known Grace, she realized that a lot of things easily annoyed her friend. And most of the time, the reasons were often quite strange or made no sense at all. Then again, Coco also learned not to question most things. Grace huffed, and blew her mane out of her eyes. “He’s always winkin’ at me and askin’ me out, he can’t take no for an answer,” she explained. “Also, his voice -- it’s so squawky. I’d rather go out with a parrot.” Coco smiled ever-so-slightly and tried not to say anything. “What? You never smile like that -- what’s goin’ on?” Grace asked. “Nothing,” Coco said innocently. “I better get to sewing those drapes. Have fun translating.” “Yeah, ok,” Grace mumbled, not believing her friend’s words. “I’m onto you, marshmellow!” “Whatever you say!” Coco teased, as she walked off. Grace rolled her eyes. She began to type furiously as she read the Prench documents and squinted at the occasional word or two, but everything was mostly smooth sailing. In all honesty, she rather would have been working for what her cutie mark meant -- writing fiction -- but deciphering was the secondary talent she could fall back on, so this would have to do for now. But maybe, someday, she could write a novel on how a small-town filly rose to fame in the big city… “So, now that we’re alone--” Baymont trilled from the doorway. “--get out,” Grace demanded. “Aw, c’mon, Gracie,” he begged. “Do you want a typewriter thrown at your face, pretty boy?!” she called. Baymont instantly burst into laughter. “My, my, a compliment from you! Pretty boy!” he said. “That just made my week! You finally lettin’ those feelings of yours out, huh?” Grace stiffened her lip. “I was bein’ sarcastic,” she remarked. “I hate you.” Baymont smirked. “Sure ya do,” he said, with a wink. He made his way back over to her desk and leaned over it, much to her obvious discomfort. “So, maybe this weekend, you could have a little more fun? I got two tickets to see Paramare, live in concert on Sunday. You wanna go?” Grace ignored him, and went back to typing, much to his frustration. “You can’t keep running away from me forever,” he argued. “Yes, I can,” Grace said, with a chuckle. The doorbell rang, meaning that a pony was in need of service with their bags. Baymont let out a sigh, and gave a sideways glance to Grace. He leaned forward, and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Think about it?” he asked, sliding the tickets across the desk. “You kiss me again and,” she growled, picking her bag up off of the floor. “I will not hesitate to shove this purse so far up your--” “Ahem!” the customer called. Baymont shrugged. “Can’t blame me for tryin’!” he said as he walked off. Grace eyed the concert tickets and hesitated. He’s got an annoying voice. He’s pushy. His manecut is stupid. He’s been watching me like a hawk since I got here. I don’t like him, she thought. ...yet her words betrayed her. “Hey, pretty boy!” she yelled. Baymont looked away from the customer for a moment, and his grin twitched. Grace’s expression was neutral as she picked up the tickets and waved them. “It’s not a date, just a hangout, capisce?” she said. “Y-yeah, sure!” he smiled. “Pick me up at six.” Baymont smirked. "Wear somethin' pretty," he requested. Grace snorted. "Don't push it," she muttered. Author's Note The Manefair Hotel bellhop pony needed a name, so I gave him one. And yes, I named him after a different hotel on purpose, for irony. So from this day forth, he shall be called Baymont. I am a Princess, so my word is law, apparently. Also, I really liked writing the love / hate conflict with him and Grace. Now, I guess I've started a new ship too? Next chapter will have more Coco! Promise! --The Princess Rarity
“Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!”EVENT FIVE: Actually Working “Now, remember,” Prim Hemline declared. “Odd-numbered rooms are to have the plaid drapes while even numbered rooms will have checkerboard patterned drapes. They are not to touch the floor nor are they to go above the baseboards. Also take in mind that the color of the drapes must not clash with anything in the room. Try not to choose any fabrics that are loud, either. We want to make a statement with the hotel makeover, but we don’t want to overdo it.” She turned around with a flair and looked at her employee sternly. “Do you understand what needs to be done?” Coco looked up from her notebook, skimmed the directions and nodded. “Yes, ma’am,” she said. Prim’s expression bore what seemed to resemble a smile. “Very well then, Miss Pommel,” she replied. “I’m off for the day, I have to go attend my daughter’s ensemble performance, but I assume that leaving everything in your hooves is a good plan, yes?” Coco nodded once more. “Yes, of course, ma’am, you can count on me,” she assured. “I figured as much,” Prim said. She headed for the door, and added, “Remember, dial my colleagues, Hoity Toity and Photo Finish, if you are in need of any assistance. I’m sure they can lend you somepony to help around here if need be. By the way, I have an appointment I can’t cancel, could you handle it for me?” “I - I’ll be fine,” Coco said, hoping that her boss didn’t catch the slight stutter. Running the upstairs shop all on her own was something she had done for an hour or two, but a whole day was something else in it’s entirety. “Good luck,” Prim huffed as she left. Coco let out an uneasy sigh, and placed her notepad down. She headed over to the sewing machine and clicked it on, letting it buzz to life as she began choosing fabrics. Silk and satin were far too expensive for simple drapes, and velvet was a nice idea, but it could get easily ruined. Cotton seemed like the most reliable cloth to use -- but color was a battle to choose. The rooms in the Manefair Hotel were sweet, elegant with a touch of class. However, the samples Coco had been given to use were bright, and vibrant. She wondered: would neon green and orange really look nice against white walls and tan carpeting? Holding up a piece next to the wall, she smiled. Who would have guessed? Orange made the rugs stand out, and the neon green was a nice opposite to the plain white. Just as Coco was about to start sewing, there was a rapid knock on the door. “I’m here for an appointment with Prim!” somepony yelled. Coco hesitated as she heard the voice. She knew it. It almost made her want to hide under the desk and hope that the pony would eventually give up and leave… ...but then again, that wasn’t what faithful employees did. Releasing a deep breath, Coco headed over to the door and opened it. “She’s not here today, I’m in charge,” she said, trying not to stutter. “I’ll take your appointment.” “You work here?!” “Yes, Suri. As a matter of fact, I do,” Coco declared, suddenly feeling proud of herself. The mare stammered and dodged glances, looking down to the floor. “Uh, who’s Suri?” She faked a cough and avoided eye contact at all costs. “I’m, uh, Zuri. With a z. Totally different pony, you probably misread my name or something, mmkay?” Her face fell. “I mean, uh… yeah. Wrong name you read.” Coco frowned. “No makeup or wig will change the fact I know the real you,” she said. Now sporting a platinum blonde wig, and blue eyes, with a black trenchcoat on, it was still noticeable to the fact that this was indeed Suri Polomare. “So, what are you here for?” Coco asked politely. Suri huffed. “Whatdya think?” she snapped. “I need a job.” Coco nodded, and allowed Suri into the shop. “So you’re looking for employment here? At the same place you were fired from?” she said hesitantly. “Don’t you think Prim will recognize you?” Suri rolled her eyes. “Not if ya don’t bail me out, mmkay?” she sneered. A part of Coco almost wanted to shoot back a cruel statement -- or a rant, even -- but she wasn’t that type of pony. Instead, she just gave a curt nod and walked over to the desk, pulling out a clipboard from one of the drawers and holding it out to Suri. “Fill out this form, and if Prim finds you eligible, you should get a call soon,” Coco explained. “Yeah, I know how this works,” Suri grumbled as she snatched the pen. Coco sat down, starting to work when out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Suri, absolutely frustrated and eyeing the fabrics longingly. Immediately after Suri was fired for plagiarizing another fashionista’s line, Coco was her replacement. Prim had shown Coco everything there was to know about the shop, and over the past few months, it had all been a dream come true, but now, the slightest worry ticked in Coco’s mind. “There,” Suri declared. She threw the clipboard down. “See ya around.” Coco simply watched as Suri headed for the door. It wasn’t the typical Suri walk Coco used to know. Before, Suri would walk like a model, head held high as if the world owed her everything. Now? Her stance was weak and she stomped around. “Wait,” Coco said. “What?” Suri shot back. “You… um… forgot to fill out your marital status and secondary name,” Coco pointed out, looking at the form and holding it out. “It’s mandatory, see?” “Oh,” was all that Suri could mutter. She picked up the pen, and checked off “NO” for the marital status, and jotted down some bogus last name… yet all the while, her eyes are more focused on the fabrics and other sewing supplies. Coco could tell what Suri was thinking, and by no means was Coco going to be a pushover and give it to her, no way, no how. Then again, decorating all of the rooms in one day would be difficult, she thought. Her heart and conscience were battling it out deep down, and Coco felt her mouth start to move before she could even think. “You’re hired temporarily for the day,” she said quickly. “What?” Suri repeated. “How does that even work?” “I… I’ll pay you. A day’s wages, if you help me,” Coco stuttered. “I need an assistant.” “My, the tables have turned,” Suri murmured. She looked at the paperwork and sighed. “Yeah, ok. Whatdya need?” Coco slid over her notepad and pointed to the racks of fabrics. “I know your main talent is eye for detail. I need you to measure the approximate length between the baseboards of the rooms and the floors. Have it done as soon as you can,” she said. “Please.” Suri nodded. “Alright,” she mumbled, heading for the door to go work. Coco felt her heart warm, while her conscience sank. “And by the way, Suri?” she spoke up. “Yeah?” “I don’t forget, but I definitely forgive,” Coco explained. “And not easily, either.” Suri said nothing as she left, slamming the door behind her. When Coco took one last look at the employment fill-in sheet, she glanced at the “N / A” written on the address section. Suddenly, her conscience soared. “Generosity, you are the key,” she slightly hummed to herself. It was a song that a friend had taught her… ..and just now did Coco realize how true it really was. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Grace sat at her desk, typing away. She was on the last sheet of papers: apparently, the Prime Minister of Prance wanted to buy half of the Manefair Hotel franchise. She wondered what her boss would think about that. But the more important thing on her mind were the concert tickets she had shoved into her purse. Baymont wasn’t a rude stallion at all. Despite his weird voice and stupid quirks, he was actually a bit of a gentlecolt. She was almost considering giving the tickets back. He could give them to a mare who actually wanted to go out with him or he could take a friend not-- “Hey, can ya tell me how to work this stupid elevator?” a voice spoke up. “You gotta pull the lever, and then press the button,” Grace said, without looking away from her typewriter. “If that doesn’t work, use the steps -- I ain’t the maintenance man.” “The stairwell is locked, can I have the key?” Grace let out a sigh. “Sure, one minute,” she grumbled. She got up from her seat, grabbed her Sunbucks coffee (that Baymont was nice enough to buy for her) and took a sip as she made her way over to the file cabinet where the keys were kept. She fiddled amongst papers and other junk, when she finally fished out the key ring. “Here ya go,” Grace muttered. She turned around just as she was sipping her coffee once more… …but she instantly did a spit-take when she saw who was standing at the desk. “I-it’s you! You’re the gal who conned my friend, Suri whatsername!” she stammered out. Now realizing that she had sprayed coffee all over Suri, Grace laughed and gave a cocky smile as she tossed the keys across the way. “Well then! How d'ya like coffee now?!” she sneered. Author's Note DUN, DUN, DUUUUUN! ...yup, Grace is a mare of action, and Suri got what she deserved, while Coco is forgiving and will probably get yelled at by Grace. Sounds like fun, yeah? Don't worry, though, the comedy will stay. --The Princess Rarity
“Dude, why would your parents name you that? Did they hate you?”EVENT SEVEN: Back to Work Coco’s favorite sound in the world had to have been the catchy rhythm of a sewing machine at work. It was a noise that wasn’t quite disturbing, but instead, it was strangely calming. In addition to the fact it was magical watching her creations come to life, the sewing machine’s mechanical whirring was good for helping her pay attention to work… ...not today, though. Not when Suri was right there -- cutting the fabrics to the right lengths and folding the finished pieces. Normally, she would talk a mile a minute while she worked, but apparently, something had shut her up. What exactly, Coco wasn’t sure, but she definitely had a hunch. She could understand why Suri would feel upset. Especially what with Coco noticed on the application… “You gonna use these colors or should I put ‘em in storage?” Suri asked, as she picked up a bundle of violet, red and black fabrics. “I think I’ll use the maroon,” Coco replied. “Keep it out here, just in case.” “Got it,” Suri muttered. She dropped the dark red cloth back onto the shelf and shuffled into the back room to put things away. To be completely honest, Coco was surprised at how calm Suri had been. She had expected rude comments for the day. Then again, maybe not, she realized. After all, Suri did need a job and nopony could keep an occupation if they were ridiculously rude. Coco felt like her mind was at war: was she a fool for giving her old boss a second chance? The tables had turned and it really did feel strange, not powerful, like she had wondered about in her earlier days. “Found this in the back,” Suri spoke up. She held up a roll of sunset orange fabric. “Wanna use it?” “Maybe,” Coco said. “Put it with the other things.” She pointed over to the pile of supplies next to her work desk and went back to sewing. Without thinking twice, Suri tossed the roll over to the pile, and winced when a domino effect began. The roll hit the basket, knocking over the spools of thread and needles, followed by the samples of other cloths, and then Coco’s leftover soda from lunch spilled all over the drape she was currently working on. “I’m sorry!” Suri blurted out. “Oh, gosh, really, I am so sorry. I’m an idiot, seriously--” She stammered, and whipped off her trenchcoat, using the belt of it to wipe up the mess. “I’m really, really--” “Suri, it’s ok,” Coco interrupted. “It was an accident.” “--sorry,” Suri mumbled as she looked up and met her former assistant’s gaze. A single, eerie pause passed between them both, only before Coco cleared her throat. She tossed the cup and the ruined curtain into the trash, and turned off the sewing machine. “We all make mistakes,” she said softly. She nudged the rolls of cotton back up to their standing point and bent down to pick up the needles, but Suri beat her to it. “L-let me do it,” she stuttered. “It was my fault.” “It was all your fault,” Coco whispered breathlessly, with the slightest hint of a frown. She thought that it was impossible for anyone else to hear, but-- “I know,” Suri sighed. “I know I was stupid a while back.” “Suri, I - I didn’t mean--” “--I was expecting worse,” she scoffed, as she began collecting the needles with the small magnet in the basket. She stared at the floor for a moment, and bit her lip. “Thanks for, y’know, hiring me today. Prim probably would have laughed in my face, or called the cops, or… I dunno. I just need a job, and I’ve been fired from everywhere I’ve been. All they know me as is, well, the cheater. I’ve been thinking about escaping to Fillydelphia, but--” “--I can hire you, under my terms,” Coco offered. “I’ll work as Prim’s employee and you’ll work as mine. I’m… sort of a manager now. She’s promoted me, and I can afford to give you a small part-time job as my assistant, if you want.” Suri bit her lip. “You shouldn’t,” she mumbled. Coco nodded. “I know,” she replied as she sat back down into her chair. “But my friends taught me that a second chance is the hardest kind of generosity to spare somepony, but it’s probably my mini-superpower.” Suri placed the box of needles back onto the table, and smirked ever-so-slightly. “Nice mantra.” Coco could only smile. “By the way, I know you won’t forget, and I don’t expect you to, but thanks, again, for sort of forgiving me. I don’t know many ponies who would do that,” Suri added. “I’ve always been a bit of a witch.” “Never too late to change,” Coco said. “Yeah… you made me realize that,” Suri replied, daring to show a smile. “I’m glad,” Coco declared. Her heart and conscience were soaring with delight. She wasn’t a pushover… she was generous. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Grace let out a groan as she skimmed through the file cabinet. Where were those stupid posters and brochures? Today was the day Sapphire Shores was going to be doing a book signing on her memoir, and Grace don’t know how she forgot. Now, she only had an hour to put up fliers and give out information papers to everypony in the hotel. This was going to take a miracle -- but alas, in that moment, she didn’t sprout any wings. What a shame: flying always seemed like a fun idea. Finally, she found the package of bright blue papers and she scurried out from behind her desk, making a mad dash for the elevator. Sixty floors, with ten rooms per floor. She could do this: she had delivered one hundred boxes of Filly Scout cookies in less than four hours back when she was ten years old, how much harder could this be? “Come on, come on,” Grace muttered, as she jammed the button. “Open up, you stupid metal box.” Much to her dismay, the elevator wouldn’t open. She kicked the door in frustration and let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “The elevator broke sometime during lunch,” Baymont spoke up from his stop at the doorway. “Dammit!” Grace said. “How am I supposed to walk sixty floors?!” Baymont smirked. “Hang on, I know a guy,” he replied. He trotted over to the secretary desk, and took the phone, dialing up a number. “Hey, buddy, can you zip down here and help out my friend? Won’t take you longer than a minute, I bet.” He hung up and smiled. “No need to thank me, m’lady.” Grace raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, Prince Charming,” she retorted, with an eyeroll. Baymont winked. “I caught your smile,” he teased. Grace lifted up the bundle of papers. “I will throw these at you,” she threatened. As he returned to his post, Baymont laughed. “You like tough love,” he mused. Just as she opened her mouth to shoot back another smart remark, Grace was startled as somepony suddenly dashed out from the stairwell. “Uh, are you Monty’s guy?” she asked. “Monty? Do I have another nickname?” “Shut up!” Grace called, not realizing that she was blushing. She turned back to the pony -- a tall, gangly orange-ish stallion with a wild brown curly mane. “So…. I don’t wanna sound like a beggar, but can you help me?” She almost dropped the box and nearly fell to her haunches as she tried to hold it. “Trust me, man, this is just as weird for you as it is me. I normally never ask anypony for anythin’. Just… help me, and I dunno, I’ll do ya one favor, like--” She stared at the box. “--you can have Sapphire’s autograph.” “Um, I’m not really a fan of her music,” the stallion replied. “I prefer polka. But I can always help a friend of a friend!” He took one of the boxes and hoisted it onto his back effortlessly, much to Grace’s awe. For a skinny fellow, he sure was strong. “What do you need with these?” “Just deliver one paper to each room. Can you walk from the thirtieth floor to the sixtieth in thirty minutes? I’ll hit the bottom part,” she requested. “Pfft, easy,” he said. “Besides, I know somepony.” Grace arched an eyebrow. Did everypony know ‘somepony’ in Manehattan? The stallion pulled a walkie-talkie out from underneath the shirt he was wearing and flicked it on. “Pinkie, I never thought I’d say this, but eat all of the sugar you can,” he said. “We’re gonna do a lot of running.” He shoved the device back into his shirt, and headed back to the stairwell. However, just before he left, he looked back. “By the way, never caught your name,” he said. “Grace,” she replied, with a small half-smile. “Grace Manewitz. Thanks for your help.” “Neato to meet you, Grace!” he smiled. “It’s no problem to help. The name’s Cheese Sandwich.” A moment of silence paused, and Grace blinked slowly. She had heard lots of strange names in the city, but this one was probably in a top five list. She tilted her head to the side and looked at the stallion, gazing over him for a moment. “Dude, why would your parents name you that?” she asked. “Did they hate you?” Cheese Sandwich gave a wordless shrug and zipped off, without another word. Meanwhile, Grace looked at the seemingly never-ending staircase and sighed deeply. “Well, Grace,” she said to herself. “This is what you get for not working at Ponyville in politics with Ma. You work at a crappy hotel and walk up stairs all day.” Author's Note Props to River Road for guessing the Background Elements meeting each other! --The Princess Rarity
“Hey, buddy! Quit sleepin’ at the wheel if you wanna stay outta jail!”EVENT EIGHT: Going Home The second that the digital clock switched to 5:00, Grace threw the “CLOSED” sign onto her desk and let out a sigh of relief. After dealing with annoying customers, whiny brats and her boss yelling at her every other hour, this was the best thing that had happened to her today. Finally, she could go home, relax and get the rest she needed and deserved. She grabbed her purse from up off of the floor and slung it on. The concert tickets from Baymont fell out, and she frowned. She had until Sunday to think it over-- “So, how was your day?” Coco asked. Surprised at the fact that her friend was suddenly there, Grace stammered and shoved the tickets back into her purse. “The usual,” she grumbled. “Y’know, nothin’ special. You?” Coco had a bittersweet smile on her expression. “Not bad at all,” she mused. “Manewitz! Pommel!” the boss called. “You ain’t leavin’ early, are ya?” “It’s five o’ clock somewhere!” Grace argued. She looked to Coco and motioned towards the door. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand b’fore he yells at us some more,” she muttered. “I don’t take backtalk that easy, Manewitz!” the boss screamed after them as they left. Grace made a blah-blah motion with her hoof, and rolled her eyes. Coco stifled out a giggle and smirked ever-so-slightly. The two friends made their way down the city block, enjoying the strange harmony that was part of Manehattan in the early evening: ponies weren’t rushing as much as they were in the morning, the lights and signs lit up the city in a luminescent glow, and while it was noisy, it was sort of calming to those who were used to it. “Well, looks like we gotta suffer the subway,” Grace muttered as they passed a newspaper stand and noticed the glaring headline on one of the papers. Equestria Daily Monday, June 23rd, 2014 C.E. MANEHATTAN TAXI COMPANY SHUT DOWN With so many workers on strike due to being paid unfair wages, the company has fired all of the employees. Residents of the city will have to rely on other modes of public transportation to get to work until the company reopens. [read more on page twelve] Coco frowned. “Is it like a train?” she asked. Grace shrugged. “Kinda,” she said. “You’ll see for yourself.” Coco let out a sigh. “Now you have me worried,” she replied. “Ah, don’t you worry,” Grace laughed. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.” She noticed a stairwell heading underground over by a storefront. “Prepare yourself. You can either find the subway terrible or hilarious.” “Well then,” Coco mumbled, with a wary expression as she followed her friend down the steps. So far, it didn’t look very funny: the walls on the staircase were covered in muck and grime, with the occasional graffiti saying something explicit. The railings seemed to be dripping wet and covered in gum, which made Coco wrinkle her nose in disgust. She raised an eyebrow when she noticed the directions sign had various letters scraped off: it was a miracle that ponies could still read it. “Looks like we’re takin’ 583,” Grace said. “Keep an eye out for it, all of the trains look the same.” Coco nodded, but paid no attention to the locomotives revving through the station. Instead, she was more concerned about the scenery around her. In the corner near the snack bar, somepony was playing the guitar, badly. A broken baby carriage was lying next to the check in / check out desk and a group of teenagers sat on a bench, passing around a bottle and laughing obnoxiously loud. For a moment, Coco almost felt concerned for her safety. Grace nudged her friend. “Don’t worry, I got pepper spray in my bag,” she muttered. “But after all of the times I’ve attacked these losers, they know not to mess with me.” Coco went a new shade of white: if that was possible and she gulped. A sudden screeching was heard, and then, the whole underground shook violently as a metal locomotive pulled up. It’s horn blared, echoing loud enough possibly for those up above to hear. “Passengers for Downtown Manehattan, all aboard!” “That’s us,” Grace said, as she coughed. “Damn subway trains. Dunno what the Princesses were thinking, using oil for these things. It’s disgusting.” She led Coco onto the locomotive and held a hoof in front of her friend. “Whatever you do, don’t sit on the seats. Trust me, standing still for half an hour is worth it.” Suddenly, as if on cue, somepony else who boarded the train let out a loud shriek, and immediately began brushing themself off. Grace and Coco turned around, to see a mare wiping something off of her purple vest and trying to comb her blonde tail back to normal. “Disgusting, absolutely disgusting,” she muttered. “Gonna bet five bits she sat in vomit,” Grace winced. Coco hesitated. “A-are you sure we can’t walk home?” she inquired. Grace snorted. “And risk getting mugged? No thanks. Pepper spray only works against drunks and hobos, not thieves,” she retorted. She tapped Coco on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.” Coco slightly pouted but her expression quickly dropped as the locomotive started speeding off. “Hold on,” Grace chuckled as she grabbed one of the handles dangling from the ceiling. However, Coco let out a loud squeak and nearly fell forward, if she didn’t grab the nearby pole. Her face was inches away from the floor, and she frowned at the muck and grime on the metal tiles. She pulled herself up and stood on shaky legs while the subway train rumbled through the underground. The ponies traveling with them was certainly a strange lot: mixed in with homeless-looking folk, high-class business executives and everypony else in between. She felt nausea and lightheadedness overcome her emotions as the train began to sway, taking every turn possible. If the seats didn’t look so filthy, she would have sat down… ...but then, suddenly, the whole train shook in an unnatural way, causing some ponies to fall out of the seats or trip over their own two hooves. Grace was one of those poor, unfortunate souls, and she peeled herself off of the disgusting floor. “Hey, buddy!” she called to the train driver. “Quit sleepin’ at the wheel if you wanna stay outta jail!” She brushed herself off, and wrinkled her nose. “Ew, I’m gonna need a long shower to get rid of this shi-” She was cut off by a loud buzzing noise, and something flew right in front of her face. “Stupid bugs.” She waved her hoof to swat the creature away, but it only got louder. “I don’t like the subway,” Coco muttered, as she leaned up against the pole she was holding onto. “Me and you both,” Grace sighed. She continued swatting away the ‘bug’, but a loud sound of discomfort -- something between a squeal and a groan -- slipped past her lips when it landed on her nose. “Oh, yuck, what are you?” A loud squeaking, buzzing like noise, followed by gibberish escaped the creature, and Grace flicked it off. “Creepy little bastard,” she mumbled, watching the insect-like thing flutter off. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Coco bending over, and swaying ever-so-slightly. “You better not puke on me.” “You never told me it would be this bad,” Coco practically whined. Now, she was looking more green than white… Grace frowned. “First time is always the worst,” she admitted, with a shrug. “You get used to it.” However, Coco said nothing, and when the train stopped at a screeching halt, the doors opened, and she bolted out -- not even caring if this wasn’t her stop. Worried for her friend’s well-being, Grace dashed out after Coco and stopped suddenly when she noticed her friend crouched over a trash-can, vomiting. With a wince, Grace hesitantly stepped forward and patted Coco on the back. “Maybe walking home would have been a better idea,” she muttered. Author's Note I kid you not, public transport really is that bad. Or, at least it is in the city. --The Princess Rarity
“If I wanted to hear that kind of crap, I’d be watching porn!”EVENT NINE: Home Sweet Home “Ok, marshmellow, lie down and chill out,” Grace said, as she carried her friend back into their flat. “I’ll make some dinner. You can watch tv or whatever until you feel better.” She placed Coco down onto the couch and ruffled her roommate’s mane. “No more subway, I promise.” “I thought you stopped with the marshmellow jokes,” Coco mumbled. “I helped you walk for three city blocks, and that’s all you can say?” Grace scoffed. She rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “The things I do for friendship.” “Now you know how I feel,” Coco replied, with a slight smirk. Grace stammered and stuttered in hopes for an equally smart remark back, but instead, she just let out a sigh, dropped her saddlebags, and shuffled into the kitchen. She frowned at the dirty dishes, and ignored them. Just because Coco was sick didn’t mean she was allowed to skimp out on her chores. Instead, Grace decided they could use paper plates… if they had any more, that is. She pried open the fridge, and looked for something, anything, to eat. She pulled out an old box of Japonese takeout, and gagged at the disgusting smell when she opened it. She tossed it into the nearby trashcan, then continued sifting through the things in the fridge… ...and all that was in there was a few condiments and half a gallon of milk. “Do ya want a ketchup, mayo, mustard sandwich for dinner?” Grace hollered. A loud groan from the living room made her realize that was most likely a no. Grace headed over to the cupboards, and found nothing inside, except a bag of paper plates and a box of stale Saltine crackers. Nothing at all to eat for dinner. “We got plates, but nothing to eat on ‘em,” she grumbled. “Guess we’ll order out.” She pulled open a drawer, and grabbed a hoofful of takeout menus she had both collected during her time of living in Manehattan, when days like this would pop up. “Coco! I’m calling for dinner, whatdya want?” “Don’t care,” Coco muttered. “So… how does Draconian Fried Fish sound to you?” Grace teased. “Order pizza,” Coco deadpanned, in her sick, groggy tone. Grace rolled her eyes at her friend’s inability to take a joke, and grabbed the phone. She dialed the number of the first pizza place she found, and was greeted by a mare with a very loud voice. “Uptown Pizzeria, where it’s at your house in thirty minutes or it’s free.” “Hey, can I get a--” Grace hesitated. “Yo! Coco, what kinda pizza do you want?” No reply came from the living room, leaving Grace to choose all on her own. She skimmed over the menu, only before finally replying. “I’ll take an extra large stuffed crust four cheese with mushrooms on top,” she said. “Ooh, and onion rings! Plus, a side of cheese fries, and bring a 2 liter of ginger ale while you’re at it.” “Address?” “The Cityview Apartments, downtown Manehattan,” Grace responded. “Tenth floor, room 56.” “And any other specifications?” “Huh?” Grace asked. “Whatdya mean?” “Don’t ask me, I just take orders, it’s apparently all I’m good for in this department,” the mare on the other line grumbled. “You can have your pizza delivered in a special manner, I suppose?” A huff escaped her. “Trixie has so much more potential than this…” “Uh, ok, um,” Grace stammered. “Send us your cutest delivery pony, I guess?” A snort was heard. “Good luck on that one,” she muttered. With that, the line went dead. Grace hung up the phone, and shook her head. One of the worst possible things about living in the city: everypony was so rude. Then again, she should know -- she was one of them from time to time… She shuffled into the living room, and noticed her roommate half-asleep. “Hey, c’mon, marshmellow, stay awake,” Grace spoke up, as she sat down on the couch and nudged her friend. “I got pizza, and we’ll watch some movies. That’ll cheer you up, yeah?” She twirled the DVD rack next to the sofa, and looked through the discs. “Let’s see, how ‘bout Filly Bueller's Day Off? Harry Trotter & The Half-Blood Princess? Nightmare Moon on Elm Street?” She pulled out a case wedged under the bottom of the rack and smiled. “Hey, isn’t The Sun Princess one of your favorites?” Coco wearily opened her eyes, looked at the cover of the case and nodded. Grace got up, adjusted the tv on the kitchen counter to face the living room, and popped open the DVD player, sliding the disc in as she started up the movie. She looked at the back of the case, and snorted. “Man, this description is a lie,” she said. “I mean, I’m no nerd, but ya think they would just be honest and say, ‘This movie is Disneigh’s historically inaccurate version of Princess Celestia’s rise to the throne where we switched around some names.’ or somethin’ like that.” Coco was indifferent, and was too busy already watching the opening sequence with the traditional blue and white Disneigh castle. Grace sat down next to her friend, about to enjoy the film as well, when … it had begun. Screaming and banging from all sides of their flat started up. On the left, the two crazy musicians were arguing (or doing ‘other’ things, judging from the slight moans heard), and on the right, in the halfway house where somepony different always lived, the television was too loud, while upstairs, the crazy cat lady was chasing after her dozens of pets… “We can’t catch a frickin’ break around here!” Grace said exasperatedly. She stumbled out of her seat, marched over to the left wall, and banged on the ridiculously thin walls. “Knock it off, you two! If I wanted to hear that kind of crap, I’d be watching porn!” she yelled. Suddenly, that side went quiet, but one of them yelled back, “I wish we were doing it!” Grace snorted, and crossed the room, knocking on the other wall. “Turn it off or I call the cops!” Then finally, she opened the nearby closet, grabbed a broom and smacked it against the ceiling. “Get rid of the cats, you crazy witch!” she shrieked. Frustrated, Grace threw down the broom, plopped back onto the couch and tried her hardest to focus on the animated classic, despite the chaos going on around her. “Uncle Metamorphosis, when I’m Princess, what will that make you?” “A griffon’s uncle, my dear Aurora.” “Heh, you’re so weird.” “...you have no idea.” “Meh, I’ve seen this a dozen times,” Grace muttered. “I’m gonna go get cleaned off. Call me in when they start singing or it gets good.” She rolled out of her seat one last time, and made her way into the bathroom to wash whatever muck had gotten onto her from the disgusting incident on the subway. She loosened her tie, and threw it onto the floor as she pushed aside the shower curtain. She frowned as she noticed the rust forming near the spigot, and hesitantly reached out, turning the knob to get the water started… ...yet nothing came out. Grace raised an eyebrow, and put both of the faucets on full-blast, but no water was flowing. “Oh, come on!” she shrieked. She stomped out of the bathroom, and tried turning on the sink in the kitchen, but nothing. A loud exasperated groan slipped out of her mouth. “What’s wrong?” Coco asked, looking away from the movie. “The water isn’t on!” Grace said. “What kind of bullshit is that?” “Was it working this morning?” Coco inquired. “Yeah, it was working!” Grace replied. She kicked the side of the sink, and opened the cupboard underneath, looking around. “There’s nothin’ wrong with the pipes, and we just paid the bill.” “Maybe it’s something with the landlord?” Coco suggested. Grace snorted. “Old man Lurch probably would pull that kinda stunt,” she growled. “Now what?” Coco got up from her seat -- obviously now feeling a lot better, with her motion sickness now subsided -- and she crouched down, glancing at the pipes underneath the sink. “Well, I don’t see any sort of problem, and I’m not really a plumber,” she stammered. “Maybe you should call and ask?” Grace let out a groan. “Man, it’s late, I don’t wanna hear that creep!” she whined. Coco sighed. “Well… I guess all we can do is wait until it comes back on,” she said. Grace frowned. “Damn,” she muttered. A knock on the door was heard, alerting the two of them from their momentary dilemma. Grace headed over, and swung open the door, surprised to see a pizza delivery pony already there. “Wow, that was fast, “ she complimented. “That’ll be twenty-five bits, ma’am,” the delivery pony replied, as she held out the box and folded her wings back under her work outfit. Grace took the box, and lugged it over to the kitchen counter. She rummaged through her saddlebags and found her purse. She was literally scraping for money, only before she let out a frustrated sigh. She looked back, giving Coco a beckoning look. With a small roll of her eyes, Coco went over to her own bag, and took out a hoofful of bits. “Here ya go,” Grace said, shoving exactly twenty-five bits into the other pony’s hoof. The delivery pony blew her bright yellow bangs out of her face and hesitated. “Um, miss?” Grace pushed her glasses up further and raised an eyebrow. “You ain’t getting a tip, seeing how they didn’t follow my special instructions,” she retorted. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.” “Wait… what?” “You heard me.” “Uh, ok,” the delivery pony muttered, as she flew off down the hall and left. Grace let out a light snort, and softly chuckled. She noticed Coco’s slight glare, and put her hooves up in defense. “What? She wasn’t that cute. Maybe if she dyed her mane or somethin’,” she mumbled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something taped on the door, and she ripped it off. Dear Residents of the Cityview Apartments, Due to the water main break Uptown, the pipes have been turned off for your safety. They should be turned back on sometime tomorrow evening. Sincerely, Founder / Manager / Landlord Lurch “Great,” Grace muttered sarcastically. “Just great.” “At least we have dinner,” Coco piped up, as she opened up the box and took out the pizza and other appetizers, making a plate for herself. Grace gave a half-hearted shrug. “I guess so,” she said as she walked over, and popped open the soda. Coco brought over the bag of plastic cups, and Grace poured each of them a glass. “A toast to surviving another day in the city,” she joked, holding up her drink. “To surviving in the city,” Coco laughed. The two of them tapped their cups, drinking to friendship, the typical chaos of life, and whatever else came their way in this crazy city. Especially now that loud sirens were heard down below on the streets… “Now if only I had some vodka to put in this,” Grace grumbled as she sipped her soda. ~ la fin ~ Author's Note Aaaand we come to a close, ladies and gents! The day is over for Grace and Coco, and I hope you all enjoyed reading their crazy life. I know I had fun writing it! :) I appreciate each and every favorite, upvote and comment! Thanks for making this featured, too! It means the world to me. I'll probably write more with this wacky duo sometime in the future, but for now, who knows?! --The Princess Rarity Also, yes, I mentioned Ferris Bueller's Day Off on purpose, teehee.
“If it were me, I might’ve called a restraining order.”EVENT SIX: Lunch Break “Wait? You did what?” Grace muttered through a mouthful of chips. “Coco, are you buckin’ crazy?!” “No,” Coco mumbled as she poked at her salad. “I just thought--” “--you sure as hay weren’t thinkin’, hiring her to be your assistant for the day,” Grace interrupted. She paused to take a sip of her hay cola. “She cheated, treated you like crap and lied to get her way to the top. Then, she tried to brainwash you to be the same way! She was takin’ your little marshmellow brain and trying to squish it into what she wanted!” “Can you please stop with the marshmellow gag?” Coco sighed. “It’s getting old.” “Fine, but whatever,” Grace continued, with a wave of her hoof. “That Suri, Zuri, whatever the hay her name is -- she’s bad news. I dunno why you gave her a second chance.” Coco hesitated, and shrugged. “Maybe she’ll say sorry,” she said softly. Grace snorted. “After the stories you told me? Doubt it.” She picked up a piece of her mini pizza and bit into it. “You want a slice?” Coco shook her head. “She, um, told me you spit coffee at her,” she added. “That was actually an accident,” Grace defended. “But totally worth it!” “Still--” “You’re not actually trying to find good in her, are ya?” Coco gave a silent half-hearted shrug. She stuffed a piece of dressing-soaked lettuce into her mouth to make an excuse not to talk, but that certainly didn’t prevent Grace from continuing to gab away. “I mean, ok, she’s not a killer or psycho or whatever, but she’s still a bi--” Grace stopped herself, knowing that her friend wasn’t really a fan of vulgarities. “Er, witch. And those are the kinda ponies you wanna stay away from. Sure, I got my moments like that, but at least I ain’t purposely hurting other ponies like she was, y’know?” “I understand,” Coco replied, as she picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth. “I just think that maybe, she has another chance inside of her.” She looked away and refused to make eye contact with her friend. “I’m being too nice, aren’t I?” A moment of silence passed between the two friends, only before Grace let out a sigh. “Nah,” she declared. “You’re not. You’re just being Coco.” “Is… that a good thing?” “Definitely,” Grace assured. “If it was anypony else, they woulda let whatsername onto the street with nothin’. You were nice enough to let her try again. That’s a mini superpower, I think.” She softly chuckled and shook her head playfully. “If it were me, I might’ve called a restraining order.” Coco smiled, and let out a soft giggle. “Good,” she murmured. “So, how’s your day been?” Grace let out a groan. “I do not wanna talk about it,” she said simply, as she shoved another piece of pizza into her mouth. Despite this, she kept talking. “It wasn’t, y’know, bad or anythin’ but it’s confusing and I swear, the bossman is an effin’ idiot. He tells me, translate the papers, so I do, but then he yells at me for not puttin’ them into a folder! Like, wow, stapling ‘em together is so bad.” She rolled her eyes. “Did your new assistant give you any crap?” Coco shook her head. “Not actually,” she mused. “She’s surprisingly nice.” Grace snorted. “Maybe she’s just waitin’ for the right moment to strike?” She noticed the slight glare Coco gave her and sighed. “Can’t take a joke?” Coco rolled her eyes, and ate the last few bits of her salad, just as one of the waiters came over. “Hi there, ladies, how’re ya doin’?” “Oh, are you kidding me--” Grace mumbled. “S-Silver Shill!” Coco squeaked out. She looked up and smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here!” “Heh, yeah,” Silver Shill said, scratching the back of his neck. “I was hired yesterday. Hopefully, they won’t fire me again. I mean, it’s not too hard! Just serve up food and take orders, easy enough.” “And come over to flirt with the customers,” Grace whispered under her breath. Coco looked over to her friend. “Excuse me?” she asked. Grace pulled out an innocent -- yet all the while teasing -- smile. “Nothing,” she softly sang. “Uh-huh,” Coco said slowly. She looked back over to Silver Shill, and her smile returned. “So, how have you been? I haven’t seen you in a little while. Did you move out of the clown camp yet?” “Thankfully, yeah,” Silver Shill laughed. “I found a decent complex.” “If you ever need help with the rent, just call me,” Coco assured. “I can lend you a few bits.” “Oh, you don’t need to do that,” Silver Shill stammered. “I-in fact, I wanna pay you back for the one time you had to buy me lunch last week. H-how about I take you out to dinner on Friday night?” He nervously laughed, and managed a lopsided smile. “Y’know, seeing how you kinda already have lunch.” “I… I’d like that,” Coco grinned. “If you two are gonna kiss, just get it over with already!” Grace blurted out. “Grace!” Coco practically shrieked, as her face went red. “Uh, I should get back to work,” Silver Shill said quickly. He hesitated and leaned forward, placing a kiss on Coco’s blushing cheek. “I’ll pick you up at seven, bye!” Then, he dashed off, leaving Coco stammering and stuttering. Grace softly laughed, and smirked. “All he needed was a little push,” she said. Coco held her face into her hooves. “I can’t believe that happened--” “--why? You don’t like him?” “--no, I do--” “I knew it!” Grace exclaimed, shooting a hoof up into the air victoriously. “Can I plan your wedding?” “Shut up,” Coco grumbled. “You two are pretty cute, though,” Grace said. “Surprised he didn’t ask you out earlier.” “Do you live to embarrass me?” Coco mumbled. Grace pursed her lips in thought as she dipped one of her plain potato chips into the leftover sauce from her pizza. She brought the treat to her mouth and chewed it for a moment, only before she nodded. “I’d say so,” she muttered. “Why are we friends?” Coco sighed. “Because you needed a place to live and I couldn’t afford my apartment,” Grace said simply. “It all went to Tartarus from there, I think.” Author's Note D'aww, lookit these cute friends~ ...and yup, I ship Silver Shill x Coco Pommel. I forget who thought up the pairing, but if they're reading this: I thank them because holy crap is it cute! I hope I converted you lot to it, or at least opened your eyes to the adorableness. Anywho, because of life / my writing career possibly going somewhere and other stories in progress, this story's daily updates will cease. Might be bi-weekly, or something like that. But don't worry, you'll still get the awesomeness! So... what's going to happen? Will Coco confront Suri? Is Grace ever going to stop being so awesomely sarcastic and snarky? What's the rest of the work day like for this duo? Find out in the next installment of Misadventures in Manehattan! --The Princess Rarity
Who says you can't go home?HELLO, THY FAIR READERS. WE HAVETH AN ANNOUNCEMENT FOR Y'ALL. THERE IS A SEQUEL TO THIS BELOVED STORY. OUR HEROINES WILL LEAVE THE CITY AND HEAD TO A SMALL TOWN. ... *ahem* So yeah. There's a sequel out. Go read it! Y'know, if you want. Predicaments in Ponyville
