Chapters
I take an ugly mustard-yellow camp t-shirt from the clothes basket and reel away in disgust. I don't get it. Aren't washing machines supposed to get sweat stains OUT?! Mine only SPREADS them around the whole shirt. Pshh.
I throw it on the top shelf in my closet, amidst encrusted Cheerios and God knows what else.
Then I pack away my pajamas and socks, and drag the now empty basket down two flights of stairs to the basement. I fling it across the room, where it thuds against the carpet near the guest room.
As I go upstairs for a snack, I feel something...strange on the back of my neck. It feels warm, hot almost. And tingly.
All concerns diminish as the feeling does the same.
"How weird was that," I muse, heading into the kitchen.
"Aw, Twinks, NO!" I shout, running to the table. My year-old retriever is eagerly lapping up cold leftover chicken soup.
Twinks is just a nickname for Twinkie, and true to his name, has golden fur with a white splotch on his haunches. He got that from when he sat on a Twinkie, and it took us forever to wash it off.
Also, whenever we're done with the trademark treats and throw away the box, Twinks always manages to drag them out of the trash can and stashes them under a table in the basement.
He looks up at me with those big sapphire eyes of his, and wags his little stubby tail with an excited yap.
I dip my head in defeat, then drain the contents of the bowl and place it in the sink. Twinks sits down on the table and licks his paws.
"Oh, cut it out, you're not a cat," I grumble, but he only glances up at me and resumes.
I look at the bowl in the sink and bite back an exasperated 'sheesh!'. Twinks eats everything in sight. Like one time I dropped a nickel and—
My thoughts are interrupted by the squeaky sound of the front door opening.
"God, you really need to oil this door," my roommate mutters audibly.
"Well, I don't have the time," I say.
"Well, you should. Tomorrow we're going to Ace." She sets her overflowing leather messenger bag on the dining room table, picking up a trail of papers from the garage.
"Well, why don't YOU clean that out?" I chide. "What's even in there?"
"Oh, you know, drawings, pie charts, photographs, reports...that sort of junk."
"Ugh, I'll help you organize that tonight."
"Neat freak." She takes off her lavender trench coat and drapes it over a dining room chair.
"Whatever, Katie." I lower Twinks from the kitchen table and proceed to the living room. I flop on the couch.
Katie turns to the pantry. It's not in the kitchen as you would think; it's to the right of the front door. The left is where the downstairs bathroom is. "You should move the snacks into the kitchen," Katie had once said, "so the chips don't smell like poop."
"Let's see," she says in a sigh, signaling she had a rough day. Katie opens the pantry door, scanning the junk food, dog biscuits, and the fancy trays and stuff we use for parties.
"Mmm, tasty," she coos, pulling out the doggy treats.
We both crack up. I have no idea why I find that so funny, and frankly, neither does Katie.
"I still don't get why the junk food has to be here and not in the cabinets above the microwave," Katie complains, pulling out a bag of Lays.
"Because," I answer for like the fiftieth time, "Twink's dog food is up there."
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean you can't make room for some Oreos." She munches loudly.
I roll my eyes.
Katie puts the chips back, securing it with a clip. Shutting the door, she collapses against it with a groan.
"Work?" I guess. She nods.
"Neighborhood Newspapers isn't that simple, you know," she mumbles.
Neighborhood Newspapers is a tiny company simply where newspapers are passed around in our neighborhood of Wildberry. One member of each house gathers in a building to report anything interesting happening in their homes. It's like a school newspaper, almost.
"That ditch Miranda stole my lunch again," Katie says, "then she threw a plum at the manager and blamed it on me." I know what she means when she says "ditch". As preteens, we can't exactly swear.
You're probably wondering what the heck Katie is doing working for N.N. with all those people older than her. Well, considering we live alone, and Katie is, ah heh, a bit more responsible than I am, it's not really an easy life.
"Did you tell him?" I want to know.
"Of course. He only reached into his desk file organizer and pulled out a folder stuffed with papers. Then he said, 'Oh, yes, we have quite a file on our friend Miranda.'"
"Well, that's good! So why do you look so beat up?"
Katie slumps a bit. "Because when Miranda found out I snitched on her, she hacked into the company's computer and pasted a picture of my head onto the body of Valeria Levitin and sent it to every email address in the neighborhood."
I suck in my cheeks. "God, Katie, that's cruel."
"She got kicked out for that." She cracks a small smile. "Then the manager explained to everyone to delete the emails Miranda sent out. And boy, was everyone mad at her!" Her smile expands into a grin. "They all ran up to the free salad bar and pelted her with cherry tomatoes."
I guffaw. "Serves her right."
Katie coughs and clears her throat. I spring up from the sofa. "I'll get you some soup!"
"But isn't there some on the kitchen table?" She asks, her voice hoarse.
I shoot Twinks a look. "Yeah, uh..." I walk over to the swivel cabinet in the kitchen. "Cream of Mushroom, Chicken Noodle, or Tomato?"
Minty shows me around the place, to the Sweet Shop, her house, and even introduces me to some of her friends.
The first is Pinkie Pie. She was a fun, curious little pony who loved the color pink.
Next are Sparkleworks and Sunny Daze. Both love sparkles and lights.
Then, Rainbow Dash and Wysteria. Rainbow Dash, obvious of her name, loves every color of the rainbow, and owns a kite shop. Wysteria is a shy pony, who, apparently, became the princess of Ponyville after she touched a magical flower. (I knew that already. But of course I didn't say that.)
Minty brought me over to Toola Roola's house. I know the ponies all have the same basic appearance, but dayum, that mare is fine. We talk a bit about drawings and sketching, and I notice a bit of a faint blush across her cheeks.
Once the tour is over, I politely bid farewell and resume back.
Katie is pacing around my bedroom, but stops as I emerge out of my closet.
"Sheesh, Feathe, I thought you got stuck in a doorway again."
"Har, har." I lean against my closet door.
"So..." Katie looks at me expectantly. "Are you gonna tell me what it led to?"
"Oh, just G3 Ponyville," I say nonchalantly.
Katie doesn't look that happy, but she shrugs diplomatically and leaves.
I yawn, and put on my pajamas. Geez, there goes that weird neck burn thing again!
I turn off the lights and climb into bed. I wake up a few minutes later to hear a rustling sound, followed by a dark figure bumbling out of my closet.
"Uh, hi?" I ask.
The figure startles, then leaps back into my closet.
"Hey, wait!" I whisper-shout. "I just want to know who you are!"
The shadow creeps out again, and I make out a pony shape. "It's only me," comes that familiar crackly voice.
"T-Toola?"
"Uh, can I sleep in here tonight with you? I mean, I know we just met and everything, but..." She trails off.
"Um, sure! That'd be okay."
Her face brightens, and she crawls into my bed.
"Goodnight, Rooly."
Toola blushes at this nickname. "'Night, Feather."
It feels...kind of nice sleeping next to a living breathing thing. Her breaths are soothing and lull me to sleep in a sweet rhythm. When I wake up the next morning, though, the bed is empty, save for stuffed animals.
I start to worry. Did Toola just flat-out leave? Was she freaked out by me? Or was this...all a dream?
My mini panic attack dissipates as a light pink face pops up from the side of the bed.
"Morning!"
"Speaking of which..." I rub my eyes, "what morning is it?"
"It's about 5:30 am on Monday."
"Oh, SHOOT!" I throw the covers off me. "I have school!"
Toola looks confused, but still catches up in the chase. "I'll make breakfast."
"Thanks, Toola." I collect my homework laying around the house and stuff it away in my binder. I get dressed (Toola accidentally catches an eyeful of my exposed chest, whoops), pack my lunch, and settle in the kitchen for the breakfast Toola made me.
The plate contains scrambled eggs cut in a heart shape with syrup slathered all over it and a sausage border.
"Heh, this is cute," I praise. Toola grins.
I hear feet clomping downstairs. Uh oh.
"Hey, Feather, are you down here? When are we going to that Mexican restaur—" Katie stops midsentence as she lays eyes on the pink pony artist in front of her. "Who is that?"
"This is Toola Roola," I say. "She stayed over the night."
"Oh." Katie eyes us both carefully, as if we were hiding something.
Toola and I share a glance, then look away quickly.
"Ah-ha." Katie casually takes a sausage from my plate. "You like each other."
The fur covering Toola's faces deepens from its natural shade.
My roommate, thankfully, doesn't press on. We quickly masticate the dish Toola made, and settle down to watch TV.
"The Today Show is on at seven," I say, reading the TV guide.
Katie nods, glancing at the clock on the TV box.
"Um, when does this 'school' start?" Toola asks, voice cracking at the word "school". Man, I've always been a sucker for that.
"At, like, eight." I head to the pantry for a little bag of potato chips.
"Then why'd you get up at 5:30?" She inquires, looking for her shoulder at the oven clock. It reads 5:58.
"I dunno. I just like getting up early to have my own time." I take a few of the salty delights and crunch on them noisily.
Toola cocks her head adorably. Her mane falls perfectly without her trying.
I suck in a breath to stop myself from saying something stupid like, "You must use a shiny shampoo..."
My mind automatically goes to work creating mental images of Toola Roola showering. Oh my. Nosebleed Central.
"So, what goes on for you in Ponyville, Toola?" Katie asks, trying to induce conversation.
"Oh, the usual, painting pictures and pottery for around the house, walking down the cobblestone path to look at the lake, mares sneaking glances at my flank when they think I'm not looking..."
I cough, spewing a few crumbs everywhere. Toola catches my eye and winks.
"Well, then." Katie leans back against the couch. "It seems like you're popular."
She giggles at this. It's a very nice laugh; the usual crackly appearance makes it sound like a river flowing on rocks.
I close the pantry door and kind of lean against it on my shoulder. I imagine myself lightly grazing her body; ticking her belly, rubbing her arms, and caressing the wet outer folds of her—
Whoa. Feather. Geez. Mind out of the gutter already.
Toola heads back into the kitchen, probably to get some grub. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and walk to the couch in a love-stricken daze. Katie elbows me disapprovingly, then suddenly turns around and suffers a coughing fit. I pound her back, and she hacks a few times then rises back up.
"Geez, what the heck is the matter with you?" I ask.
She wheezes. "I-I don't know." She clears her throat. "There, I think I'm better now."
"Rooly, fetch her some water," I call out. Toola emerges a few seconds later with a can of La Croix.
The clock hits 6:03, and I stand up. "Well, I think I'm going to take a walk around the block, just to awaken my senses more." I walk over to the coat rack and grab my jacket.
"Oh, I'll come with you," Toola suggests, "but I have to get some clothes first." She races up the stairs.
"Katie," I add, "You wanna come too?"
”No," she states plainly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your date."
"Hey!" I get all defensive. "Toola and I barely know each other, mind you!"
"Well, you know this much." Katie forms her hands to look like heads with mouths and presses them together, making kissing noises.
Grr.
Toola Roola clops back down the stairs, wearing a hat, scarf, and vest.
We head out the door into the crisp fall weather. Leaves crunch under our feet and and a nice breeze blows our hair lightly to one side.
"Feather," Toola starts warily. "I don't think Katie's all right."
Katie's face is in a pot boy the time Toola and I return.
"Oh, god, Katie! What's wrong?!" I run over to her side.
Katie lifts her head. She looks terrible; her eyes are red and a thin line of blood is tricking down the side of her mouth. I look in the pot. There's a bit more blood in there.
"Nothing...I'm fine, I'm fine." Her voice is hoarse.
"You certainly don't sound fine." Toola Roola is just as concerned as I am.
I sit down next to her. "That's it, you're staying home." I get up to call the school.
"Toola, do you think you could take care of her while I'm gone?"
"Sorry, Feather, but I have to critique an art exhibit later on today." She looks up and smiles. "But I think I know just the four to help."
"Four? That seems a bit much."
"Don't worry. I've got it covered." Toola runs upstairs.
"Feathe...You needn't worry about me. I'm"—cough—"perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Katie tries to stand up. Her wobbly knees throw in the towel and she falls back on the couch again.
"Katie, you're in no condition to get up and walk around to get what medicine and food you need." I start dialing.
"Feather, listen, if you think—"
"Hello? This is Feather McTallison. Is this the school office? Katie's terribly sick, she's coughing up blood." Pause. "Yeah, that Katie." Longer pause. "Yes. All right. Please tell her teachers to give me her homework. Okay, thanks. Bye."
Then Rainbow Dash appears from the top of the stairs, with three Breezies. "Darling? It's Rainbow Dash and some Breezies. Toola Roola sent us. She's such a dear."
Katie mumbles, "What kinda Rainbow Dash are you..."
Rainbow trots over to my sick roommate. "Oh, poor darling, you really are sick."
Katie backs up into the couch. "What in the...! You're not Rainbow Dash! You don't have wings! And your"—cough cough, wheeze—"cutie mark's different! And your mane is too! And why are you so chubby looking?"
Rainbow looks appalled. "I...what?"
I tug lightly on Rainbow's mane. "Heh heh, can I speak with you a moment...?"
After the Breezies introduce themselves as Tiddlywink, Tra-La-La, and Zipzee, it's about time for me to leave for school. I grab my backpack, bid the five goodbye and good luck, and head off for school.
Meanwhile...
Katie lies on the couch, groaning.
"Darling? Are you all right?"
"Nnnnnngh...no..." Katie drapes a hand over her forehead.
"Maybe we should take her to the hospital," Tra-La-La suggests. "Coughing up blood doesn't sound healthy."
"Good point, darling, but we don't know where a hospital is."
"STOP SAYING 'DARLING'!" Katie shouts, though it isn't very loud and is strangled. She throws a pillow at Rainbow, hitting her square in the face.
Rainbow wasn't going to lie; she was starting to get cross with this person. "Well, then, Katie, do you know where a hospital is?"
"Yeah, there's one in Evanston." Katie pulls the blanket over her head.
"Then let's go there," Tiddlywink confirms, and the three Breezies lift the girl up. "We'll ask for directions on the way."
"Provided nobody faints," Katie grumbles. "The least you'll get is a double take."
When I arrive home, Toola Roola is on the couch watching TV.
"Where's Katie?" I ask, dropping my bookbag on the floor near the dining room table.
"Rainbow Dash and the others took her to the Evansteed hospital or something." Toola fumbles the remote.
"Oh, crap." I run to the kitchen and frantically look through the phone book.
"I don't think she's on the verge of dying," Toola says like I'm being melodramatic. "Tra-La-La just said coughing blood doesn't look healthy."
"Well, we have to get there! We have to know how she is!" I pick up the phone and copy the number. "Hello, yes, this is Feather McTallison. I'm wondering how one of your recent patients, Katie, is doing." Pause. "Oh, she's just resting. All right." I hang up, relieved. "The doctors say she should be back on her feet in a couple hours."
"And in that time," Toola says, "I need you to help me with something."
"Okay. What?"
"My house."
I'm soon back in the warm air of Ponyville, heading to Toola's house. I enter in the door, taking in the fresh scent of paint and wood.
"So recently I've run out of paint." Toola rummages through a chest. "White."
"All right..." I don't see where this is getting or why I need to be involved.
Toola comes out with a small doubleheaded dildo. "I need you to help me make some more."
I gulp. I see where this is getting to.
After Katie gets her bathrobe on and snuggles into a couple blankets on the couch, the soup is ready. I bring it out to her and we watch TV together.
My roommate clears her throat. "Much better," she announces.
I nod in acknowledgment.
After watching a kitchen sponge in pants dance around for an hour, Katie turns off the TV stands up. "Ugh. Honestly, I have no idea why I was sick all of the sudden."
"Well, sickness can be unexpected," I explain. "Did you eat anything you shouldn't have?"
She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, some perfume and a plastic fork prong."
I groan. She went there. No, I never drank perfume. Yes, I had accidentally ingested a plastic fork prong. It happened at a school dinner dance party where I ate some noodles and chewed forever on this mysterious hard thing, then I took the fork out of my mouth. I noticed one of its prongs was gone and thought, "Oh, crap."
"Where did you get the perfume part from?"
"Oh, you know. One of the kids around here drank a whole thing of the stuff. She figured it tasted as good as it smelled."
I bite the inside of my cheek. This day was not going well.
Katie yawns and stretches. "Well, I think I'm gonna hit the hay."
I nod her off. "'Kay."
She stands there for a few seconds, probably wondering if I would say anything more, then shrugs and heads up the stairs.
I throw myself into a leather chair near the fireplace and in front of the sliding glass door. Twinks approaches me carefully.
"Aw, c'mere, you little rascal."
Twinks' tail wags and he pants happily. He jumps onto my lap and settles in.
"Hee." I stroke his little furry body.
Then a loud crash rings from upstairs and a scream pierces the air.
I'm in Katie's room in a flash. She has broken a mirror.
"Oh, great," I mumble.
"I'll get the broom," She says hastily, running out the room. A "Twinks, no, there's broken glass" commences from the hallway.
Once the mess is all cleaned up, I announce, "I, uh, think there's a mirror somewhere in my closet."
Katie nods sheepishly, and heads toward my room. I follow suit.
As Katie searches through the stuff littering the closet floor, her hand bumps something. "Hey, what's this?"
Curious, I clamber in and face the right.
A door is present there; it's nice with a red border and brass doorknob.
"When was this here?" I muse, turning the knob.
"Careful," my roommate warns. She always was the protective one.
"Stay here," I order. She exits the closet but stands nearby.
Cautiously, I enter.
There is a single door, similar to the other one, on the other side of the white room I'm in.
I take a step. It echoes throughout the empty room.
Step. Step. Step. Step. Almost there. Step. Step.
Step.
My hand fumbles the doorknob. Then I'm greeted by sunlight spilling in.
My feet walk into a grassy texture. I scan my surroundings.
It's a spectacular view; there's a little village down below the hill I'm on, with mountains in the distance. Birds flutter overhead. But everything looks...strangely cartoonish.
The warm feeling in the back of my neck returns. Ugh.
I close the door behind me (which, on the other side, is nothing but a knob floating in the sky) and amble down the hill.
What in the...
These strange hippo thingies are staring at me. Oh, wait. I don't think they're hippos. Excuse my language.
A mint...animal skips over to me. She has pink hair.
"Hey! I'm Minty."
"What are you...?"
"I'm a pony!" She looks at me like, duh, I should know this. "This is Ponyville."
These don't look like any ponies I've seen in my day, I smirk.
"And, might I add, what in the love of socks are you?"
Socks?
What?
"I'm a human."
"Well, then, human, glad to meet'cha."
I notice other ponies still staring at me.
"I have a name, you know."
Minty hesitates. "Well, don't keep me in suspense! Tell me what it is!"
"Ok, ok, jeez! It's Feather."
"Cool name!"
"So, uh, what did you say your name was?"
She grins. "What, you have amnesia or something? I'm Minty! I love socks and the color green."
A wave of nostalgia passes over me.
These are the My Little Ponies I grew up with.
This is Generation Three.
Excuse me while I fangirl squeal.
