TWILIGHT'S SHIPPING GOGGLES

Chapter 2: After Party Investigation

The next morning found me still in the lower portion of my room, poring over every psychology book, interpersonal relationship book, romance novel, and just to be certain I covered my bases, fairy tale book with a romance-centered theme. I know that some might call my research methodology... overly thorough (in point of fact, everypony but Princess Celestia already did), but I've found that it works for me, and my results were ninety-eight, point six, six (repeating) on target. As was my habit, a small forest of books had grown up around me overnight as well as a tea service (gone stone cold hours ago) set on my desk, safely distant from any book. My phonograph was softly playing Espouse's Blue Dam Boot in the background (waltzes are the best sort of music for studying and research; they don't demand too much of your attention like say, baroque might).

The sound of mumbling and a small blanket being tossed aside announced that Spike had finally gotten up. Was it already that late? Huh. I could have sworn that I had only been at this for three or four hours at most. He stumbled down the stairs to the lower level (I was really going to have to get him his own room one of these days), and wandered over to where I lay on the floor, working. Clearing his throat of the nightly accumulation of the phlogiston that made up his flame breath, he tiredly asked, “Again, Twi? I'm younger than you, and even I know that all-night study sessions aren't healthy.”

Without turning around, I replied, “I already cut them down to no more than one a week, Spike.” I of course, failed to mention that emergencies can often bump that number up... as well as finding a new field of study that really interested me... or a new book... or- okay, maybe I really should cut down on the all-nighters. Besides, all those four a.m. warmed over hay fries can't be good for my figure.

Grunting something unintelligible, my assistant wandered off to take care of his morning ablutions, and I decided to set my research aside long enough to take care of my own body's needs. I rose and stretched, feeling my joints pop alarmingly. That settled that. Today, I was going outside to work out the kinks. Maybe do some kind of follow-up talk with Pinkie. Yes, that sounded like a good plan. Spike could watch the library himself for a few hours today.

It's not like we were likely to be swamped; this town had the most depressing low interest in reading it's ever been my displeasure to come across. About the only steady customers we had were the mayor looking up tax records or Miss Cheerilee browsing for something new to read. Now there's an idea. I could check in on Miss Cheerilee and bring her the souvenir I got her there. She's always good for a little intellectual talk. Not to disparage my fellow Ponyvillians (that doesn't sound quite right, does it?), but while smart in their chosen fields, talking shop with them tends to be rather short and... lacking depth.

Itinerary planned, I walked downstairs to collect the morning mail and start breakfast. Opening the door, I was surprised to find the Mayor's aide at my door, with a hoof raised to knock. Startled, I said, “Oh! Good morning. Can I help you Ink Well?”

The white mare blushed a little and answered while adjusting her glasses, “Er, yes. I apologize coming here so early, but the mayor wanted your input on a project she had in mind. I wouldn't have knocked, but I saw the light on in your room and heard you moving around in here, so I thought you might be up. Since you weren't available yesterday, she made sure I came out here before you go too busy, and-”

Raising a hoof to stop her, I said, “I heard about it a little from Applejack last night. Something about a concert, right? Come on in, and we can discuss it.” I stepped aside to let her in and pulled the mail in with a little tug of my telekinesis, closing the door behind us. I led her to the table in the main lobby, and asked, “I was about to make some breakfast, would you like anything?”

“Oh no, I couldn't impose,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

Halfway to the kitchen, I paused and looked back. “Are you sure? Some coffee and a muffin at least? I wasn't going to make anything special, just some cereal, really.”

Ink Well bit her lip, obvious desire for the precious liquid warring with her desire to not intrude anymore than her job had already required, but in the end, coffee won out, as it always did. I had once watched her polish off three entire pots almost by herself one day while working out the details of my second Winter Wrap-Up with the mayor. Now, I like my coffee too (any hardcore student could extoll the virtues of the cherished drink), but Ink Well put even me to shame. Working for someone like Mayor Mare, I can only imagine how many early mornings, late nights, and all-nighters she's been made to endure. I'm only an occasional volunteer, and I can tell you that she can be a real slave driver.

The battle in her mind was short, shorter even than the time it took for all this to run through my mind, I imagine. The earth pony nodded, almost as if ashamed to impose on my hospitality. That's one of the things that I really liked about her. No matter what, she was impeccably and unfailingly polite. It sort of reminded me of The Princess. “Just the coffee, please. B-”

“Black, half sugar,” I finished for her. I had been around her enough to remember how she takes it, after all. She blushed again and nodded as she looked away, causing me to giggle as I went into the kitchen to set the kettle to boil. I walked back out with a plate of three bran muffins (leftovers from Pinkie's party yesterday that she had insisted I bring home) and set them on the table. “The water should be ready soon, so why don't we get to work, starting with how big the mayor wants this to be.”

Ink Well pulled out a manilla folder holding pages of figures and forms. I'm sure my eyes glittered at the sight, causing her to smile at me. Hey, we all have our little quirks; mine just happens to be filling out paperwork, which works out well for the two of us, since Ink Well always has some that needs filling out.

As we got into the meat of the matter, I remembered my new project, and out of curiosity, I peeked at Ink Well with my... ugh. I have got to think of a better term than Cady's. That's just too embarrassing to try to put into a serious paper, or even a Friendship Report. I couldn't even imagine trying to explain it to The Princess... either of them. In any case, I looked at her with my... thing, and was confused by what I saw. I could tell that there was somepony in whom she was interested; she showed all the subtle signs. She was distracted, as if her mind were a million kilotrots away, and there was some undefinable... feeling of anxious joy. What did that mean? In whom could she be interested? I must say that it was quite perplexing. I would just have to wait to see how she interacted with other ponies, I guess.

Further investigation would have to wait as the kettle let loose a shrill whistle, announcing that the water was ready. I excused myself to prepare our coffee as well as my breakfast. Spike walked in while I was working and brought down a box of Ruby-ohs and fixed his own bowl of cereal. “What's the mayor's assistant want this early?” he asked, clearly only half interested.

“Mayor Mare wants to arrange for a symphony concert; 'bring a little culture to the town', I believe were her words according to Miss Ink Well,” I replied.

Spike got an impudent smile, and asked, “So, are you thinking of asking her for another favor?”

Confused, I asked back, “Her, whom?”

“Oh, you know,” he shot back, and mimed playing a cello, while batting his eyes at me in a disturbing manner.

Disquieted, I gave him a gentle shove, knocking him back a few steps so that he would stop his creepy act. “If by all that, you mean Octavia, then yes, I was considering dropping by her place when I go see The Princess tomorrow to see if she knows of any orchestra that's free next week and willing to play for next to nothing. It'd be nice to talk to her again; we haven't seen each other in over a month.”

Taking a bit of his cereal, Spike tried to talk around a mouthful before I glared at him and he swallowed, then replied, “Oh, I'm sure she'd make time for you, Twi.”

“Yes, she's a good friend like that,” I agreed. Remembering my plans, I added, “Oh, Spike. I'm planning on making the rounds around town today, see if I can drum up some attention for the library. Think you can hold down the fort today?”

“In this town? I think I'll manage somehow,” he answered tartly. “I'm sure I'll be so busy that I'll hardly have any time to go through even half my stack of comic books.”

I would have reprimanded him, but I'm hardly one to talk when it comes to reading on the job. There have been days where we literally got not one customer, and could have just closed up shop for the day and nopony would have noticed. It's enough to drive a librarian to drink. Thankfully, I hadn't succumbed to such depths, and had my research projects to keep it from happening. Nodding, I replied, “Yes, that's fine, Spike. Just don't get so caught up in your, ah, literature that you neglect anypony who does come in. If there's any trouble and you need to find me, I'll more than likely be with Miss Cheerilee.” He gave me an appraising look as I took down the Fancy Press for the coffee and scooped some grounds into it. “What?” I asked.

“I was just noticing that you seemed to be spending a lot of time with Cheerilee,” he said noncommittally.

I frowned at him, but his expression didn't change. “Miss Cheerilee happens to be excellent company and a stimulating conversationalist. You'd do well to give her the respect her education deserves, and listen to what she says now and then, Spike. You may just learn something from her.”

Spike mumbled something around a mouthful of cereal, but didn't care to repeat it after swallowing, electing instead to continue eating. I decided to follow the advice of a particularly good parenting book I had read, and let his little act of defiance go by uncommented upon. It said that you couldn't control your charge's life forever, and had to pick and choose your battles. Save the potential hurt feelings for when it matters most. “Well, just remember what I said about the customers, Spike. If I get back one bad report on you, I'll volunteer your services to Applejack again. She says that she could always use some help cleaning out the cows' barn.”

He gulped down his mouthful of cereal and nodded. Last time I lent his services to Applejack as punishment, she had him mending fences with Big Mac for an entire weekend. The poor little guy came back so exhausted, he promised to never again try to close the library while I'm out so that he could goof off. I left him with that warning as I walked back out to Ink Well, coffee and my breakfast in tow.

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*(“)(“)

Sugarcube Corner was its usual madhouse self, this early in the morning. I was tempted to try to interrupt Pinkie, but with the line stretching out the door, I decided to wait until later. Maybe I'd have better luck then. As I walked past, I saw Rainbow flying down from her house with a pony dangling from her forelegs. I immediately recognized the DJ- I mean, Vinyl Scratch, and did the simple math. I could tell that their connection was no stronger than it was last night, and that really made me angry. Didn't either of them care for Pinkie's feelings? Vinyl I could excuse, because she and Pinkie don't hang out much, but Rainbow should have been more sensitive to her friend.

I didn't want to say or do something I might later regret, so I walked down a side alley on my way to Miss Cheerilee's, and was still fuming a little as I knocked on her door. I had to swallow my anger, as my knock was answered almost immediately. The door opened to reveal the teacher I had come to see. I forgot that I still had my shipp- I mean, my special sight was still going, and I saw Miss Cheerilee seemed really down. Oh, she hid it well; one does not become a good teacher while wearing their heart on their sleeve all the time, but my perception was able to notice that she seemed really... I guess one would call it resigned? I was left speculating why somepony with a career as fulfilling as hers would feel so... down, but the mare's voice thankfully stole my attention as well as my train of thought.

“Why, Twilight! What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the honor?” The mulberry mare's voice betrayed not one whit of sadness, only genuine interest in the purpose of my visit.

I was so shocked by Miss Cheerilee's demeanor that I was struck dumb, and it took me a moment to find my own voice again. “Ah, er, um, g- good morning, Miss Cheerilee. I was just dropping by for a little social visit, but if you're too busy, I'll understand. I didn't call ahead, after all, and-”

She smiled at me and stood aside. “No, no. You're not interrupting anything important, Twilight. Won't you come in?”

I hesitantly stepped in, looking around to make sure I really wasn't interrupting another visitor, but found the usual homey clutter in her house. Books lay stacked everywhere, and while decorated in a manner one would be more likely to find in a grandam's home, there was none of the odors one would associate with such a dwelling. She led me over to the overstuffed couch, it's lovely floral patterned fabric protected by crocheted antimacassars, then went into the kitchen for another cup to serve the coffee already sitting on the coffee table. Pouring me a cup, she asked, “So, how was your trip to the Crystal Empire? I hear it's quite lovely.”

Reminded of the trip, I used my magic to summon the small gift I had bought for her. “Thank you for reminding me. I saw this while I was there, and knew that I had to get you one.” I levitated a small box over to her, placing it in her hoof.

Blushing a little, she replied, “Oh, Twilight. You didn't have to go to all that trouble.” Opening the box, she gasped and pulled out a worked crystal tube a few inches long, about one across, and hollow in the middle. “It's lovely. Er, what is it?” she asked after a moment's examination.

With a satisfied smile, I answered, “It's a chalk holder. You put the stick inside, and twist the end when you need to extend it. You talked about how much you hate the taste of chalk, so when I saw the teachers there using this, I immediately thought of you and had one made.”

“Oh, Twilight, I couldn't. This looks far too expensive, and-” she gasped as she looked at the side, “You engraved it with my name?” Miss Cheerilee asked in shock.

I waved her objections off as inconsequential. “Oh, nonsense. This was just a trifle, really. The entire empire is made of crystal. Getting something there made of it is as common as getting something made of wood here. Besides, the craftsponies there are just begging for new customers who would appreciate their wares more than the locals.” I wasn't lying when I said all this. Getting anything made of crystal there costs about a tenth of what it does here, and it was just a trifling sum... for me. Granted, for most other ponies, it would have set them back maybe a week's wages, but for my stipend, it really wasn't all that much, but she didn't have to know that. It always made me feel good when I could ease the burden of an educator even just a little. When that educator was as hard working as Miss Cheerilee, well, it felt all the better.

She held the gift close to her chest and smiled at me tremulously. “Thank you, Twilight. I'll treasure it and see that it's put to good use.”

A subtle shift in her presence grabbed my attention while I was nodding. I saw that she sat up a little straighter, and the light in her eyes seemed a little brighter. Even her smile seemed a bit more genuine. Curious, I filed it away for a moment when I would be able to ask Cady about it, and the weak nature of her earlier attitude.

The rest of the visit went by quite pleasantly. We talked of little things; how the past week had gone, what we were planning on doing, that sort of thing. When I told her about the concert, she seemed quite excited by the prospect. “I haven't been to one since my college days in Canterlot,” she had told me, and almost seemed giddy about it. I guess she was a bigger fan of classical than I had previously thought. We got to talking about books we liked, and I promised to order some that she wanted to read again, using the book exchange the libraries have to promote new interest in books without having to take up room with new inventory.

It was a few hours later that I left Miss Cheerilee's house with a lighter heart than the one with which I had gone to see her. I had even mostly forgiven Rainbow for stealing Pinkie's opportunity last night... mostly. I made my way back to Sugarcube Corner for an early lunch before making my official rounds to try to drum up some business for myself. I may not work on commission, or even be dependent on the number of customers, but that doesn't mean I can slack off when it comes to trying to get ponies to read more. After all, a pony who becomes interested in reading today may one day make some important discovery or write the next great Equestrian novel, all because I took the initiative to show them how great books are. How could I resist being part of something great like that?

I walked into the mostly empty bakery, and was immediately stunned by the aroma of baking bread. Coming to this store was murder on a filly's pocketbook and waistline, but totally worth it. Walking up to the counter, I saw the proprietress ponying the counter, who smiled at me in genuine affection. “Good morning, Twilight. What can I get you today?” Mrs. Cake asked.

I had originally intended on getting some more of their delicious bran muffins, but that bread had worked its magic on my brain. “Good morning, Mrs. Cake. Could I have a cinnamon roll? The kind with the cherries spread over the top? Oh, and a hot chocolate, please.”

“Certainly,” she replied, and turned to collect my order. While she worked, I noticed that her body language was especially happy this morning. Her eyes darted over to the kitchen several times where I could hear Mr. Cake working to make the afternoon pastries, and she fairly sang with contentment. Their bond was strong and full of love, making me wonder at Mr. Cake's wandering eyes yesterday.

Remembering my original purpose in coming here, I asked, “Is Pinkie around? I wanted to talk to her.”

Mrs. Cake turned around with my order complete, and smiled the smile of someone with a terrific secret. She pointed over to a darkened corner (my personal favorite here in the shop, since it was so secluded) and said, “She's over there with a friend. I would recommend leaving them alone for now unless it's an emergency, though.”

Looking over, I was shocked to see our very own party pony at the corner table, with no pony less than Vinyl Scratch herself. They sat on opposite sides of the table, but were leaning close their hooves very close to one another's. Naturally, I couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging from the way Pinkie was blushing, it appeared to be something good.

Pinkie pushed up Vinyl's sunglasses, and they looked into each other's eyes. I could see their hooves just barely touching in a tantalizing way. They would brush against one another, only to pull away slightly, then caress the other, almost as if probing for reciprocal feelings. The interplay between them so sublime, I felt like a brash intruder just by watching them, but if I was going to understand anything about these... goggles, then I had to study it at every opportunity. How often would I have a chance at watching two ponies connect like this for the very first time?

I took my lunch to a table across the room, but still within sight of them and tried my best to watch without looking like I was watching. My surveillance tactics have vastly improved since I last attempted them on Pinkie (thank you, Spying for Dummies!), if I do say so myself. As part of my cover, I magically summoned an old research project I had set aside after reaching a major stumbling block, and acted like I was paying them no mind whatsoever. I was of course, too far to overhear, but I picked up some basic lip reading skills from that same book, and put them to the test here.

“You sure you want me there?” Pinkie asked.

Vinyl nodded and seemed very happy. “Yeah, I'm sure. You won't be bothering.” (or was that “be a bother”?)

Pinkie's goofy smile widened and she started to say something but it was partially obscured by her taking a drink of whatever she was drinking. I was able to make out the beginning though, when she said, “What time-”

With a shrug, Vinyl looked casual and noncommittal as she replied, “Anytime is fine,” but I could tell from the way her hoof was sensually but hesitantly caressing Pinkie's that she was nervous about messing up again. Wait, again? Did I read that right? What could the supremely confident Vinyl Scratch have messed up that she would be this worried about a repeat? I was so surprised by this discovery, that I entirely missed what was said next, and was brought out of my speculation when I saw the DJ rise from her chair, saying, “See you then, Pinks. Be sure to bring only your partiest friends. Wallflowers and the posh would just make things awkward.”

My eyes dropped to the abandoned report before me, as I took a bite of my cinnamon roll, and was distracted by a sweet explosion of flavor in my mouth. I think I must have moaned a little, because Pinkie made her way over to me after walking Vinyl to the door. “Good morning, Twilight! Aren't those rolls just the most superdy duperdiest ever? I mean you bite into one, and it's like POW! It's a punch in the mouth with yummy!”

I licked my lips clean of the cream cheese frosting and cherry juice that had accumulated there when I ate almost half the roll without even noticing. I have to possess myself with better self-control than that. No telling when paparazzi will show up, even here in Ponyville, after all. I don't want a repeat of the hay fries incident back in Canterlot, not to mention trying to explain to Princess Celestia just how that deep fryer ended up attacking, and chasing that reporter across Canterlot, even if he did totally deserve it. Finding my voice again, I replied, “Morning, Pinkie. Having a good day?”

“You betcha!” she replied, taking a seat at my table. She helped herself to a sip from my cup, licking the whipped cream from her upper lip with relish. “I suppose you want to talk about Vinyl again, huh?”

Her sudden question caught me off guard, and I choked a bit on my latest bite of cinnamon roll. Washing it down with a swallow of my drink, I replied, “I- ahem. What do you mean, Pinkie?”

Tilting her head until it was upside-down and looking at me from below, she said in a sing-song voice, “You know what I mean. I saw you watching us from here. You really need to work on your sneaking, Twilight.”

Rearing back, I started to act like I didn't know what she was talking about, but my conscience got the better of me. “I'm sorry, Pinkie. I know I shouldn't have done that, but I can't help but worry about my friends. I want them to be happy and safe.”

Pinkie sat up right again and patted me on the head like a child. “It's okay, Twi-Twi. That's why I'm not really upset at you.”

I chuckled at her, wondering where she came up with these nicknames sometimes. “Well, I appreciate your understanding, and I'll try to to pry again like I did last night, so long as you don't call me that. It makes me sound like a stupid comedy relief character in a bad science-fiction movie prequel.”

“Okie dokie, lokie,” she replied happily.

Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Pinkie, I'm sorry I eavesdropped on you, but what did Vinyl say about a party?” I mentally facehoofed once the words were out. I truly had no intention of prying, but it seemed my mouth was operating on its own instructions.

Pinkie put a hoof on each of my shoulders and sighed. “Twilight, if you heard what she said about a party, then you know that it wouldn't be the kind of party you'd enjoy. I only say this for your own good, when I ask you to just forget about what you heard.”

Once more, my mouth and curiosity teamed up to hijack my body, and I said (rather indignantly, I'm sorry to add), “How do you know I won't like whatever kind of party it is? I like parties just fine. I go to yours all the time, and I've been to plenty of functions in Canterlot.”

Pinkie looked away nervously, a slight blush forming on her cheeks. “It's... not that kind of party, Twilight. Just trust me. You wouldn't like this one.”

To say that I was perplexed would have been an understatement, but worse than that, I felt... left out by one of my closest friends. All of a sudden, I was back in high school again, being excluded for being the youngest in my class and having The Princess for a mentor. I shook the absurd thought and feelings from my head, telling myself that Pinkie, no, make that none of my friends were like that, especially to me. “Alright, Pinkie, I believe you. I'll drop it.”

If Pinkie said that there was a reason I wouldn't like this party, then I trusted her enough to believe her. I just needed to peek in on this party for myself and see why it's not for me.

(\ /)
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*(“)(“)

I finally made it back to the library after a rather productive day promoting the upcoming concert as well as a much more exclusive recital in the library I convinced the mayor to approve at the last moment. It was my hope that I could encourage some of the nouveau riche living here in Ponyville to help fund it in exchange for minor functions like this. With donations like that, I could greatly expand all the sections, maybe even open up a new one. I also had some rather interesting ideas from talking to the parents around town. I really couldn't wait to tell Spike about the Summer Reading Program I would be starting as well. Maybe he'd have some good ideas for prizes?

I walked in to find my assistant slumped against a bookcase, apparently exhausted. I certainly wasn't expecting my probing of the townsponies to work out quite this well! “Busy day, Spike?” I asked with a smirk.

He glared at me from his position on the floor, and a little plume of green fire was snorted from his nostrils in indignation. “I don't know what you did, but Ch- Miss Cheerilee came in here like a whirlwind, wanting to see our collection of foal's stories, biographies, and almost the entire reference section. Said she had some ideas for reports for the new school year and wanted to make sure we had enough books for all her students. If I even look at another encyclopedia today, my brain's gonna abandon ship and run off to the comic store!”

My little dragon. While he may act like he hates this, I know that deep down, he enjoys it almost as much as I do. Well, maybe not that much, but I know he doesn't hate it. Seeing as he faithfully executed his duties today, I felt that he deserved a special treat. I ruffled his head spines affectionately, and said, “It sounds like you had a busy day. How about we head over to Double Scoop's shop for some ice cream; my treat? If you fetch some of your gems, you can even sprinkle some on top.”

His eyes went wide enough to make me worry that they might fall out, but he was on his feet, quick as lightning. He ran upstairs so fast, I had to wonder if he even touched the ground at all, and was back before my mane had settled back into place. He showed me a small, purple velvet bag in one paw and said, “I'm ready! Let's go!”

“Easy, there. We haven't even had dinner, yet!” I replied. He looked so downcast, I couldn't help but add, “Alright. We can stop at Hay Burger for dinner, too.” I wanted him to know that taking care of your responsibilities gets you rewarded (even though later on, it's just something expected of you), and a treat like this seemed a good way to do that.

He must have agreed with me, because he pumped his little fist triumphantly. “Yes! Can I get a merry feast? They have the new Power Ponies toys in them!”

“Sure, Spike,” I answered with a smile. “Going to try for the Masked Matter-Horn?” He had been reading that comic for a while, and he always liked the Masked Matter-Horn. He often remarked how much she reminded him of myself.

“Nah. I was actually hoping they'd have a Radiance figure,” he replied. No doubt, his focus on the characters shifted when we moved to Ponyville and he met Rarity. They do seem rather similar, personality-wise. In any case, I was going to need some time to plan how I was going to reconnoiter this party of Pinkie and Vinyl's, and a nice, quiet dinner at Hay Burger while Spike played with his merry feast toy sounded ideal.

Author's Note

This is quickly getting complicated, isn't it? Funny thing is, I started noticing Twilight using unintentional double entendres throughout the story. Going through it, I noticed 25 myself all told, but then, I have a dirty mind. See if you can spot them all!