The Peripheral Tragedies of Lickety Splitby Neon CzolgoszChaptersPortentousHubrisDownfallPortentousLickety Split was perfectly happy until he read the good news. ‘...is coming to Ponyville to congratulate you on your acceptance into the Canterlot Academy of Arts, and would like to meet you tomorrow. We will meet at your house at six P.M. prompt for coffee. Please send a telegram in response... He brushed his blond mop of mane out from his eyes and giggled in sheer terror. The name was right at the bottom of the page. Filthy Rich, Ponyville’s leading businesspony and philanthropist, Lickety’s patron of sorts. The signature, too, which shouldn’t have made it worse, but somehow did. There was another name too, the name. The name of a pony known by few but worshipped by many. The pony who had contributed more to culinary understanding in one decade than a hundred chefs in a lifetime. The mare known to bakers and patissiers the world over as The Bread Scientist. Golden Grains herself was coming to his house. His idol. His distant mentor. His academic advisor to-be. He had all of her books. He had three copies of The Question of Butter, one for reading, one for lending, and one in case anything happened to the other two. That had been the book that pulled him bodily into the wonderful world of food science and thaumaturgical gastronomy. He’d marveled at the writing back in school, and it had never lost its touch. Now its author was coming here. This was simultaneously the most wonderful and most terrible thing in the entire world. He was having friends over for drinks tonight, to celebrate his acceptance, full scholarship, and student grant (which had allowed him to pay the deposit for his new cottage) to study Accelerated Food Science at the Canterlot Academy of Arts. He shook his head. He’d have to cancel it, reschedule. He needed to be well-rested, prepared, and alert! The entire cottage had to be immaculate. If his genius future professor and his wealthy supporter saw even a hint of slovenliness they’d know what an underprepared, mediocre clod he really was, and that would be it. He had to cancel. It was only five in the evening now, his friends wouldn’t arrive for an hour and a half. Lickety willed himself to calm down, and to stop pacing a hole in the carpet around his coffee table. His friends would be fine with it, they were his friends after all. Maybe later, after some mad, rushed cleaning, he could go out and meet them at Berry’s Bar, or at least his friends who were old enough to get served. There was a knock on the door. Lickety nearly jumped out of his skin. Dinky Doo stood on his doorstep, reeking of clover and rust remover. Normally Lickety would have been glad to see the lilac-coated unicorn. Aside from being astonishingly clever and the only friend his age who dabbled in culinary science, she was also the reason he had a cottage. Dinky Doo dealt a mixture of legal, dubiously-legal and flagrantly illegal substances to half of Ponyville, and knew the financial state of every user in town before even they did. She had let Lickety Split know that the cottage would be available for an excellent price before the owner advertised it, and had even loaned him the money—interest free no less, and Dinky was not known for her charity—for the deposit while he waited for his stipend to arrive. He’d paid her back in full, of course, but Dinky had done him a whole lot of good. Something was wrong, though, or different at least. She was always wiry and skittish, but she looked twitchier than usual. Her set jaw suggested bullheaded drive and pure excitement. She held her gaze uncomfortably long, and a fire glowed behind her eyes. “Lickety I need your kitchen for reasons.” She pushed past him into the cottage before he could open his mouth to reply. “You’ve still got that dough mixer, right? The oil thermometers, lemon-zesters, the industrial deep fat fryer, all that stuff? ‘Course you do. Thank Celestia, you’re a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d have done if I couldn’t use your kitchen. The only other people in town are the Cakes, those fascists...” The fully-loaded saddlebags clinked and rustled as she made her way through the cottage. Lickety tried to say something. “Dinky, I’m really sorry but—” was as far as he got before Dinky wheeled round and put her hooves on his withers, pulling him in close. “No. Stop. This is big.” “Yes but tomorrow—” “Bigger than tomorrow. Big. Look out there—” she turned him to face the kitchen window, where the sun had just set and the moon hung in the sky “—right there, at that. Look at the moon. You know how big this is? Bigger than that. It’s bigger than the moon.” Dinky let go of Lickety, turned, and began unloading her supplies. Along with a portable chemistry set came a lump of budding clover the size of a foal’s head, a salt-shaker full of salts, and— “Nitroglycerine?!” yelled Lickety. “Mare, calm your teats,” said Dinky, “I’ve got it charmed in six different directions and besides, I’m only using it as a stabilising agent for the uranium.” The name rolled around in Lickety’s brain, and triggered deep-seated equine fears when he recognised it. “T-that’s radioactive! It’s illegal to talk about that stuff, where did you get it? Why would you bring it here?!” “Me and this guy have this arrangement. Look, don’t even worry about it, it’s all stabilised and all prepared for easy clean up. Mare Cure herself could come here with an Io-Ra counter tomorrow morning and she wouldn’t find jack shit. I mean she wouldn’t, because she’s dead and all, but if she did she still wouldn’t find anything.” “Dinky, I make food in here—” Dinky shushed him. “Look, I have taken every possible precaution. Tomorrow, if you’re worried about any piece of equipment in here, I’ll get it replaced by sundown. That’s a promise. But, dude, as much as I love you and all, this thing right here is too damn big for your dilly-dallying to get in the way.” Lickety sucked in a deep, calming breath. It wasn’t too bad, he reassured himself. Dinky Doo was smart, and after she was done she could even help clean or help him prepare for the meeting tomorrow. He could handle this. “Okay. Okay, okay, this is okay. What are you even doing, anyway?” “I’m creating a clover plant with naturally-occurring salts crystals in the flowers.” “That’s illegal. That’s very illegal.” “I have an arrangement, chill out. I’m only making the germ seed and plant food here anyway. I’m not growing it in your cottage or anything.” “That’s still illegal. It’s illegal for me to even know you’re doing it.” There was a knock at the door. “It’s fine. There’s somepony at the door.” “It’s not fine, I cannot stress enough that this entire conversation so far has been illegal—” Another knock. “There’s still somepony at the door. Go answer the door, Lickety.” “We’re going to have words about this.” Lickety scowled at her, but Dinky was already buried in her work. With a huff, he stomped off to answer the front door. Pipsqueak stood in the summer drizzle, a thin cotton hoodie clinging to his lean withers, the rakish grin scrawled across his face, light-hooved and tipsy-eyed. He grabbed Lickety Split around the withers and pressed a hard kiss on his cheek. “Lickey, mate! Lookin’ lovely as always I see.” He deftly stepped inside, still hanging off Lickety’s shoulder. Lickety tried to respond, to protest, but Pipsqueak was warm and close against him, close enough that he could smell the hint of aftershave he wore, and the soft scent of cinnamon and wood and sex was enough to make his head spin. Lickety Split had a boyfriend. He loved Rumble very much. Rumble was a gorgeous pegasus, kind, daring, funny, impossibly supportive, and the best boyfriend a colt like Lickety could wish for. If he had to pick between Pipsqueak and Rumble, he’s pick the pegasus over the pinto in a heartbeat. He’d spent several years of school with a crush on Pipsqueak, though, and that didn’t count for nothing. Panic started to rise in Lickety’s throat. He felt as if everything was going wrong at once. “Pip, I can’t—” Suddenly, Pipsqueak backed off. He left a single hoof on Lickety’s withers and looked at him, eyes full of concern and compassion. “What is it, Lickey? What’s wrong?” “Tomorrow Mr Rich and Golden Grains who is my future academic advisor and a total genius and my idol for years are both coming round here for coffee to my cottage and the place is going to be a mess they’re going to think I’m a disgusting incompetent who shouldn’t be allowed near a kitchen and oh Celestia I’ve even got her books on display she’s going to think I’m a suck-up I haven’t done any preparation they’re going to talk for a minute and then it’s going to be an hour of awkward silence before they kick me off the course and withdraw my stipend and my name will be mud and I’ll work at some ratty sno-cone place until I’m an old stallion and all the magic of food science is gone and I won’t even like mascarpone any more! I won’t like mascarpone!” Lickety stopped, breathing hard, on the verge of tears. “Right. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay?” Lickety nodded, sucking in air. “O-okay.” “Look at me, Lickety,” said Pipsqueak, “This is good news. You are a bona-fide genius with all manner of desserts and pastries. Bon-Bon, Pinkie Pie, the Cakes, they’ll all say the same thing. Filthy brags about how much he’s been able to invest in you. They all love you, because you are awesome. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re utterly adorable.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. So here’s what’s gonna happen. First, we’ll give you the once-over, make sure you’re feeling completely ready for the meeting, and make sure you’re ready to sweep them off their hooves. Second, we’ll help clean your cottage top-to-bottom, to your specifications. I mean, this is already the tidiest house of any teenager I’ve ever seen, but if there’s anything else to sort out, we’ll do it for you. Third, you need a positive attitude, which means relaxing and having some fun.” Pipsqueak paused for effect, and leaned in close, “Which means, my friend, that it’s time for some drinks.” “Can we come in yet?” slurred a voice from outside. Lickety turned, horrified, to look out of the open front door. There must have been thirty ponies there, all in various states of drunkenness. “Come on in, everypony, the party starts now!” yelled Pipsqueak. Like a fast-forward film of a shoot growing into a tree, a party appeared around Lickety. Ponies dragged in speakers and subwoofers, Lickety’s favorite dance album blared out, the lights were turned down, Diamond Tiara climbed on a plush sofa and started dancing as she cradled a bottle of sparkling wine in her hooves, a keg of cider was rolled in, followed by a crate of— “Bourbon?!” Lickety’s voice went suddenly soprano. He grabbed Pipsqueak by his withers and shook. “You brought a crate of bourbon here! Pip, buddy, you have to get rid of it, the last time you brought a crate of bourbon to a party things got set on fire!” “Oh, Lickey, we were mere foals back then,” replied Pipsqueak smoothly, shaking his hips to the music, the smile never leaving his lips. “It was eight months ago! Shady Daze is still in juvie!” A cocktail glass full of sparkling, amber liquid appeared in Pipsqueak’s hooves, and he slipped it towards Lickety Split. “Here, have this.” Lickety took a sip. Then a gulp. Then drained half of the glass. It was as if he’d dunked his head into a bucket of frozen apples, with just a hint of vodka. He hiccupped, giggled, and turned bright red. Pipsqueak just kept grinning. “Applebite is still your favorite, I take it?” “Y-yeah...” “Good. Relax. Have fun. I’ll make sure things don’t get too rowdy, all right?” Lickety nodded, and Pipsqueak sauntered off to start dancing. It felt like every teenager in Ponyville was here. Featherweight, Pina Colada, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Dee Pad, Chowder, Silver Spoon, Alula... Lickety could smell clover smoke, unicorns were divvying out salts into pea-sized spoons for a quick sniff, cider flowed freely with cheer, the sofas and coffee tables had been pushed against the walls to make room for dancing, ponies ground against each other, horns flashing, wings twitching, hooves stomping, sweat flicking from manes and tails. In the face of this lurid, lascivious display, Lickety Split did the only sensible thing: he ran upstairs into his room. He pulled the cover off the telegramophone. Five years ago, only the Riches, the mayor, and the princess had one of these in Ponyville. Now, just about everypony did. He flipped through the book until he found Rumble’s parents’ code, tapped it into the machine, and began to type. ‘Lickety here house is party and cant control it plz help asap l.y. xxx’ He pressed the ‘send’ button, and a clockwork dial clicked until the price read ‘2.3 BITS.’ He pressed the button a second time, and with a ‘clunk’ the message went off. Lickety closed his eyes and slouched in his chair for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the bass from below. It would be okay. Pipsqueak said he’d keep everything under control, and Rumble will be here soon. All he had to do now was go back down to the party, look like he was having fun, and try not to vomit from anxiety before his boyfriend got here. There was another knock at the door. It couldn’t be Rumble, even he wasn’t that fast. More guests, perhaps? Neighbors here to complain already? He steeled himself and went back downstairs. Two unicorns, one ruby-red and the other pale blue, stood in the doorway. Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute. Both of them were good friends. That meant they wouldn’t be here to dump more unreasonable demands on him, right? Whatever they wanted was obviously perfectly simple and normal and had nothing to do with the dozen-odd ponies behind them, all in their late twenties and thirties, looking sleazy and aggressive and holding eye contact for too long. “Hey Lickey,” said Ruby Pinch, “We need a favor.” “Oh, you’re having a party anyway, thank Celestia,” said Tootsie Flute, “We thought this was gonna be all awkward.” “Um, I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good—” “So Vinyl Scratch and my mom are working on something together, something about the acoustics of new wine, and we basically need all of Vinyl’s friends out of the way ‘cause Vinyl doesn’t want them in her room unsupervised. It’s just for the night,” said Ruby. “Yeah, they’re fine as long as you don’t give them any hard drugs and don’t look at them funny and join in if they ask you if you want any salts,” added Tootsie, “We’ll be with them all night anyway, so don’t even worry.” “But—” Ruby leaned on him, “Thanks ever so much, dude, we’d have been sunk without you. So, this is ‘Tavi, Noel, Blues—y’know what, nevermind, you’ll all get introduced later. Come in, guys!” The roadies and musicians swept inside. They smelled like vodka and public transport. Several of them spat before entering. The last one in was a grey mare with a dark-grey mane. Her purple eyes lingered on Lickety for a moment. “so this is your house yah” The words slipped out with the minimum possible effort, as if the very act of speech was a chore. The voice spoke of private education and a childhood in Trottingham. It took Lickety a second to realise she was speaking to him. “Huh? Yeah, yeah. Wait, are you—you’re that cellist, the really famous one. Octavia! Octavia Philharmonica!” “yah thats what mummy calls me. are you a fan” “Yeah, I like your music.” “cool got any heroin” “What? No!” Octavia rolled her eyes. “yah a lot of ponies say they’re fans but none of them have any heroin” With that, she slipped off to join the rest of the musicians. The front door shut, and Pipsqueak was beside him, passing another Applebite into his hooves. He found himself pulled into the dancing and the music and the fun. It was okay. All he had to do was not have a nervous breakdown before Rumble arrived. HubrisRumble was here and everything would be okay. Lickety Split threw himself onto the pegasus, wrapping his forehooves tight around him as if to make sure he was really there, burying his face into his lover’s muscular neck. Rumble practically carried him upstairs to the bedroom, and sat him on the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked. Lickety realised he’d been holding in tears, that he was on the edge of a breakdown, and that this was the perfect time to step over that edge. He collapsed, sobbing, into Rumble’s hooves. “—everything’s gone wrong Golden Grains is going to be here in hours and there’s a party that I just can’t handle right now and a drug lab in my kitchen and I think there are heroin addicts in the spare room and oh Celestia I just don’t know what to do.” “Come on, let it out,” whispered Rumble. He nuzzled Lickety, kissing away his tears. He always knew how to calm him down. Rumble draped a blanket over him, kissed him on the lips, then left the room. He returned moments later with a glass of water from the bathroom, which Lickety drank down gratefully. “Tell me what’s going on and we can make it better,” he said. Lickety explained everything that had happened. “Okay,” said Rumble, “I get you. You want me to kick them all out?” Lickety smiled as warm, fuzzy feelings rose through him. Rumble would kick them out, he knew, even if he had to drag them out by their tails to do so. But still, he had to shake his head. “No, we can’t do that. I owe Dinky a lot for this house, and I don’t think moving her would be safe for anypony involved right now. I don’t wanna stop the party because Mr Rich’s daughter is here, and you know what she’s like.” Rumble considered this for a moment, and then said “How about this: We both make sure the party doesn’t get too crazy until it winds down at two in the morning. Then, we say everyone has to leave, and that nopony is sleeping over. I’ll get Pipsqueak to offer his place, so there won’t be any trouble.” Lickety gave him a little grin. “Pipsqueak owes you a favor?” “Nah, Pipsqueak owes you a favor for being an ass, more than once. I’m just going to remind him. Gently, gently!” he said at Lickety’s dark look. “He can take the musicians while he’s at it. As for Dinky... We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?” Lickety nodded, and cuddled back in to Rumble. “And whatever happens, we will make sure that it gets cleaned up. This cottage will look perfect before the mare of your dreams steps hoof in it.” Lickety blushed. “She’s not competition for you, or anything...” Rumble burst out laughing, and kissed him on the cheek. “Babe, you don’t even need to say that. You’re the gayest pony I’ve ever met. Vaginas make you visibly uncomfortable.” “They look like sad clowns...” he mumbled. “But you really admire her and want her to like you, yeah? She’s like Spitfire is to me, right?” “Yeah...” “Exactly. So we’ll make it awesome and everything will be awesome.” “Yeah.” “So whaddya say you come downstairs with your impossibly handsome boyfriend, and we enjoy the party together for a while, huh?” “Yeah! Let’s do that!” Downstairs, the party was in full swing. Ponies played drinking-twister (twister where if it was your turn, you had to drink!), grinding against each other in the living-room-turned-dancehall, making out in dark corners, smoking clover on the couches. After half an hour of dancing, Rumble and Lickety Split were dripping with sweat and in need of a drink. They left the dancers and headed over to the keg. Apple Bloom was doling out cups. “You ain’t charging for this?” asked Rumble. “Nah,” she replied, “Pipsqueak paid in advance.” “Ah, that’s cool—” Before he could say another word, Diamond Tiara stumbled into him. “Hey dickhoof, watch where—heeeeeey Rumble, how are you doing tonight?” “Yeah I’m good thanks,” he said, tensing up as the mare climbed all over him. “That’s good, look, I know you’re gay and all, but *hic* it’s like, mares have buttholes too y’know and some of us are like, totally into that,” she slurred. “That’s nice. I have a boyfriend.” “Yeah that’s true but, but, have you thought that me and Silver Spoon are both really, really good at sucking cock, and we’d like, totally do you at the same time—” Silver Spoon herself appeared from the crowd and began to lead Diamond Tiara away. “Hey Rumble, sorry, I think my friend here needs a glass of water and maybe a breath of fresh air away from all these ponies that can hear you, Di...” Rumble smiled at her. “No problem. Need a hoof?” “Thanks, but I’ve got this.” “I could use a hoof,” said Diamond, “H-hey, y’know what a ‘rusty trombone’ is, Rumble—” “That’s enough, Di, lets gooo,” said Silver, sing-song, as she led her friend away. Rumble and Lickety Split looked at one another, and burst out laughing. A loud bang came from the kitchen. Lickety jumped a foot in the air. “You want me to check it out?” asked Rumble. “I’ll check it out, you keep an eye on the party. I know enough science to duck at the right time.” Rumble nodded, and Lickety headed into the kitchen. The kitchen stunk of acrid chemicals, and the lights flickered on and off in ways that made Lickety feel woozy just looking at them. Every time the lights went dark, chalk circles glowed on the floor. Dinky was in the center of it, hunched over the sink. Next to her, the dough-maker churned. She didn’t even look up. “Everything is fine. I totally expected that to happen.” “Do *cough* do you need any help?” “No. Oh, some of those circles on the floor are electrically charged, by the way, so. Y’know. Don’t disturb my circles.” Something thick and dark reached over the lip of the dough-mixing bowl. It looked at Lickety. Dinky turned her head, lifted a spatula in her telekinesis, and slapped at the thing until it fell back down into the mixing bowl. “Dinky what the shit was that?!” “Non-newtonian fluid moving due to ambient vibrations. Nothing to worry about. Not sentient,” she said. “Probably.” Lickety Split was about to protest when the noise of something breaking came from upstairs. “Celestia, what now?” He ran upstairs and burst into the spare bedroom. Twelve rough-looking middle-aged musicians sat on various bits of furniture. Half of them were holding guitars, and there were more lit cigarettes in the room than there were ponies. “—so if I run my magic through the E string and play G-minor, it sounds exactly like a bed breaking in half,” said one of them. “Lickety! Come on in,” said Ruby Pinch. She was sat next to Tootsie Flute, and they were both eating from a bowl of popcorn. “Nothing’s breaking?” he asked. “Nah, we’re just chillin’. Take a seat,” said Tootsie Flute. He sat down between them. The musicians seemingly hadn’t noticed him come in. They were half-listening to a stallion in his late twenties with a dark, brown coat and a shaggy mane that fell over his eyes. With a heavy, Northern-Trottingham accent, he said, “...and so I sez to him, look, if you’re gonna be such a mardy fookin’ cunt about it I’m gonna fookin’ twat you right in the gob, but he don’t fookin’ listen, he don’t fookin’ listen to anything, the cunt. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” They all found themselves nodding along to the chords. “Catchy,” said Ruby. The stallion shook his head. “Nah, love, it’s too mainstream to catch on. Real music these days is all slide whistles and train noises.” “Yeah, Noel, that’s what I always say,” said another, “It don’t matter if you’re brass or woodwind, it’s not what you blow, it’s who you blow.” “S-so are you guys all musicians?” asked Lickety. They all laughed. One of them spat on the floor and then looked directly at him. “No mate, we’re fookin’ gigolos innit. You want some bum love?” “Brassley, be nice,” warned Tootsie Flute. The stallion put his hooves in the air. “Calm down, love, just havin’ a laugh. Ee’, lad, ‘Tavi sez you’re a fan of hers. Is that right?” “H-huh?” squeaked Lickety. “Yeah, she’s good.” “Yeah, she knows her way around a cello I’ll say that much. Word of warning though mate, if she offers to shag you, say no. She’s got enough yeast between her legs to start a fookin’ brewery!” “brassballs you’re such a twat i don’t even know why we bring you around everywah. anyway lickety yah? have you seen me play anywah?” “Um, never live. I did see your Grand Galloping Gala tapes, though.” “oh my celestiah, you did not see those tapes i thought they’d all been burned” “You didn’t like them?” “oh i like loved them but the conductah didn’t feel the same way hah hah. i’d done so much laudanum before our second set that the element of laughtah came up on stage and dry humped me in front of like everypony yah and i didn’t even know about it until afterwards” She paused and took a drag from all eight of her cigarettes. “anyway do you have any heroin anywah?” Ruby Pinch sighed. “‘Tavi, we’ve been over this. Lickety does not have any heroin in his spare room.” “Wait, which room’s the spare room?” asked Noel. “This one,” said Tootsie. “There’s heroin in this room?” “No, there’s no heroin—” “Where’s the fookin’ heroin?!” “Check the drawers!” “Maybe he’s hiding it in the pillows!” “Under the carpets!” “bet it’s in the mattress yah” “Tear the books apart!” In a second, all the musicians stood and fell on whatever was closest to them, shaking and rattling and tearing through it until they were sure that it hid not one scrap of heroin. “STOP! ALL OF YOU, STOP!” As soon as the words left Lickety Split’s lips, every pony in the room froze and looked directly at him. He wished the words had not left his lips. Noel sat back down and picked up the guitar. “All right. We’ll stop.” “yah we’ll stop looking for heroin. for now” Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute sat frozen with rictus grins on their faces. Their eyes flitted between twelve angry musicians and Lickety Split. He swallowed. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go back downstairs and enjoy the party,” he said quietly. “Yeah, you do that mate.” “have fun yah” Lickety Split stood up, his eyes never leaving the ponies in the room, and walked out backwards. He shut the door—slammed it, really—and sat down on his haunches. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Then a screaming came from down the stairs. It was all Lickety could do not to just lie down on the carpet and wish very hard for everyone to disappear. Downstairs, in the living room, the dance-floor had shied back to give the two mares screaming at each other some space. Pina Colada was yelling, so drunk she could barely stand upright. “—Bitch, did you just call me a slut? I will fucking end you, you dumb bitch!” “You are a fucking slut you bitch,” screamed Alula, “You’ve sucked every dick in Ponyville, you’d suck your dad’s dick if you thought he’d love you for it—” “You did not just—” Chowder, the tall, fat and imposing grey colt, stepped between them. “Ladies, please, let’s not—” Both fillies pushed straight past him and pressed up face to face again. “Oh look, now you’re getting Chowder to step in between us huh bitch, you know you can’t fucking take me—” “I’m getting him, no, you’re the one who wants Chowder in front of you, slut, because you can’t go ten fucking minutes without sucking somepony’s dick—” The music changed from generic rock to the cheesiest of dance-pop, and the volume doubled. “Oh my Celestia this is totally my jam,” said Pina Colada. “Yeah mine too dance break!” said Alula. Slowly, carefully, the dancefloor pushed back in around them, and the party was back to normal. Lickety Split glanced at the DJ’s decks to see who his saviour was. Warmth bubbled inside him when he saw Rumble grinning back at him, headphones pressing down on his slicked-back mane. Rumble clambered through the crowd, grabbed Lickety, and kissed him. Lickety sunk into the kiss, willing and grateful. “That’s the third time this has happened since you went to check on Dinky,” said Rumble. “Mare, when will ponies learn that you can’t throw a party without a DJ on hoof at all times? Shouldn’t Tootsie Flute be doing this?” “She’s, uh, babysitting,” said Lickety, raising his voice so he could be heard over the music. “Things are getting pretty crazy and they haven’t even opened the bourbon yet. I think Pipsqueak needs to make good on his promise. You want me to find him for you?” “He’s not here?” “Nah, I think he went upstairs.” “Okay. Right. You keep an eye on everything here. I’ll be right back!” He kissed Rumble on the lips and went back upstairs. Pipsqueak wasn’t in the bathroom, and Lickety wasn’t willing to check the spare room again. His bedroom door was shut. There was a sock on the doorknob. I shouldn’t have to knock on my own bedroom door, Lickety thought, but he knocked anyway. Pipsqueak opened the door a crack. His hoodie was gone, and he reeked of sweat and hormones. “Hey, Lickey! I’m having sex with Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon is filming it. Wanna watch?” “...you’re making porn with Mr Rich’s daughter. In my bedroom.” “Yeah, it’s fun! Y’know, I never realised how hard—heh—it was to get a stiffy and keep it up between shoots. Not something I usually have a problem with, right? Anyway, have you got any boner pills lying around mate?” “No, I don’t. I’m just going to go and think of all the ways that Mr Rich will ruin and murder me when he sees porn of his daughter filmed in my bedroom which he will instantly recognise because he’s coming over for coffee tomorrow.” Pipsqueak waved him off. “Oh, don’t be like that. Only Diamond Tiara is getting a copy anyway, so you don’t have to worry about anypony seeing it. It’s not like she’s going to act out to get back at her wealthy, distant father or anything.” “Damn it Pipsqueak—” said Lickety, but Pipsqueak was already looking downwards. “Uh, we’ll talk in just a minute, I really need some boner pills. Dinky will have some, I’m sure of it...” With that, Pipsqueak slipped past him and walked downstairs, flopping as he went. Lickety, against his better judgement, opened his bedroom door to try and talk them out of— “Where have you been Pip get your face in here I’m antsy—” —and he walked face-first into Diamond Tiara’s presented rump. DownfallLickety had given up on trying to keep the party under control. He’d given up on anything that wasn’t curling up on the sofa while Rumble cuddled him. “—was horrible, and I can’t get the smell out of my nose!” “It’ll be okay, baby. You need a hug. And lots of soap.” The pair looked around the living room in despair. The mood of the party had darkened. The bourbon was open. Metal blared from the speakers. Mares glared at each other. The dancefloor was turning into a mosh pit. Cheery conversations turned to bitter gossip. “I’ll need to burn the house down,” said Lickety, “If I burn the house down and say it was heroin addicts, I can claim it on insurance. And I’ll have to have coffee with Mr Rich and the Bread Scientist somewhere else. Because we can’t have coffee in a burned down house. That would be silly.” Rumble stroked his mane and kissed his neck. “Babe, it’ll be okay. We just have to get them out before the vomiting starts,” he said. “There’s no going back after the vomiting starts,” he added, darkly. They’d been laying there for half an hour now, and things were spiraling out of control. Sounds of fighting and music came from the spare bedroom above. Pina Colada and Alula were screaming again. Ponies were jumping on the other sofas. Two would-be DJs pushed and shoved over control of the decks. The party was a spilled drink from turning into a full riot. A deep, rumbling crash, like thunder from overhead, rolled out from the kitchen. Then, a shockwave of air that blew manes and tails to the side. In an instant, the house filled with thin, purple smoke. It smelled like cheap coffee and dusty, forgotten hats. After a single sniff, all of Lickety’s worries seemed to melt away. He didn’t have to be anxious, he didn’t have to fear for his life and his future, he could just be completely, absolutely calm while Rumble cuddled him. Everypony else in the room seemed to agree with him. The tension dissipated immediately. The two DJs stopped fighting, turned off the metal, and turned on slow dancing. Pina Colada moved in to kiss Alula, and Alula kissed back. It was as if a great sigh of contentment had passed through the party. At least one pony was unhappy, though. Dinky wandered into the living room, looking singed and tearful. “My creation! My beautiful creation is gone! Mere ash in the wind!” Lickety Split tried to sit up, but ended up just looking at her. “What happened?” he asked. He tried to put some concern in his voice, but couldn’t manage it. “Somepony turned off the dough mixer and let the seed germ sit,” she wailed. “The failsafes activated and teleported all of the dangerous materials back into the containment vault. Without them, the other components combusted! Gone, gone in a cloud of clover, salts, and mild opiates!” Lickety nodded along, wriggling backwards into Rumble’s warmth. Rumble was impossibly, stupidly comfortable. “Huh, that’s a bummer.” “Who?!” cried Dinky Doo, “Who would do such a thing?” “Heeeeeey, Dinky,” slurred a voice from across the room. Pipsqueak stood, barely, swaying from side to side, straining to keep both eyes open. “Your pills didn’t, uhhh, the pills, pills that were yours that I took, pills for my boner, heh, boner, they didn’t woooooork. Your pills.” “What.” “Yeah I came in to the kitchen where you were working over that things but, but I didn’t want to distuuuurb you, so I just, I, uh, went through your bag and found your pill stash and took the boner pills but, uh, the boner, heh, pills for my boner they’re not working.” “You got past my electric wards,” growled Dinky, “to steal erectile dysfunction drugs.” “Ohhhh, that’ssss, that’ssss why the flooor was tingly ‘n stuff, ohhh. Yeah, I took the pills that look like little blue squares, only one so maybe I needed more but it’s reallly not doing anything down there so maybe I didn’t take enough?” “Blue square—Pipsqueak you dipshit, blue diamonds are boner pills! Blue squares are fucking tranquilizers!” “Huh,” said Pipsqueak. He swayed, righted himself, and looked back at Dinky. “Innit what I jus’ took?” “Yes, Pipsqueak, it is what you just took. Did you happen to unplug an industrial dough mixer while you were in the kitchen, dumbass?” “What, oh, the noisy thing yeah, it was noisy and I couldn’t concentrate on which pills were which so I turned it off so I could concentrate,” said Pipsqueak. “Wow, the floor looks really, realllly comfortable. Look, I’m going to lie down on the floor now and sleep, so, uh, yeahhh, do us a favor and make sure I sleeeep on my side.” And then he was out like a light, snoring on the carpet. Dinky broke down crying. Featherweight got up from one of the sofas and stumbled over. “Dinky, sweetheart, are you okay? I didn’t know you were here tonight.” “My science experiment blew up,” she sobbed. “Oh, you poor thing, not again. C’mere, gimme a hug.” The lanky, cream coated pegasus wrapped his wings over the unicorn, cuddling her gently. “It always happens, and I just don’t know what went wrong...” “It doesn’t always happen, you’ve had loads of successful experiments, you’ve just had a bad month is all, okay?” “Mm’hmm,” she sniffled. “Come on, come with me. You wanna get some waffles and ice-cream?” She shook her head. “You want me to read science-fiction to you?” She shook her head. “You wanna get some waffles and ice-cream while I read science-fiction to you?” There was a pause, and then a slow, soft nod. “Come on, then. Let’s get some waffles and ice-cream, then” “A-and science-fiction.” “And science-fiction. Come on, Dinks, you can ride me for once.” He loaded the unicorn onto his back, and took his leave. All around the room, heads began to perk up. “Hey, is it just me—” said one pony. “—Or does that smoke make you really, really hungry?” “I could mow down some cheesy fries right now,” said Chowder. “Mushroom kebabs!” “Beanburgers! Really spicy beanburgers!” “Hey, are there any Saddle Arabian places open in Ponyville this late?” “There’s Akhal-Teke’s, that’s across the street from Beanburger Palace, they’re both 24/7.” In groups of two and four and five, ponies began filtering out of the house to find late-night munchies. Scootaloo was last of all, hauling Pipsqueak’s sleeping form over her withers. “Jeez, my boyfriend is such a lightweight,” she muttered. “Time for some fries, bitches!” Lickety Split and Rumble found themselves alone in a deserted living room. The peace didn’t last long, however. Seconds later, a dozen hoofsteps thundered down the stairs and the musicians burst into the living room. “All right, enough sitting about, it’s time to lay waste to this fookin’ party—ee, where is everypony?” said one, “There was ponies ‘ere when we came in, I’m sure of it.” “Yeah, there was—” Noel sniffed the air, “—Do you lot smell that? It smells like opium but it ain’t. Crikey, I could really go for some opium right now. Or heroin. Either’s good.” “yah i bet that bitch Vinyl has some opium somewah lets go to hah place” “Ee, she’s right, I left a ‘teenth there an’ all. Come on guys, let’s head to Vinyl’s place.” The musicians all lit two and a half cigarettes each, and slouched out. Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute ran after them, cursing and yelling. Lickety Split sat up, and said “It’s over.” “It’s over,” he said again, not caring a jot if he was tempting fate. “We can get everything ready, prepare for tomorrow, and—it’s only three A.M.! We have time to sleep!” Rumble cuddled him from the side, kissed his neck, and nipped at his ear. “Sure, if sleep is all you want...” Lickety Split blushed. With his blond mane, brown fur, and pink cheeks, he looked like Neighapolitan ice cream. “Well, that too. Bedroom?” “Bedroom.” They walked upstairs, leaning on each other, giggling and laughing, nipping and nuzzling until they reached the bedroom. After a quick detour to move Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon’s sleeping forms into the spare room, they settled down in bed together, for a night of kissing, grinding, licking, and some sleeping too. If either of them had noticed the flickering light on the telegramophone before sleep took them, they would have seen a new message in the machine. And if they’d looked at the new message, it would have read: ‘Mr Split typo in my previous letter we are meeting at my house tomorrow not yours sorry for confusion yours sincerely Filthy Rich’’ But that, and all else, could wait until the morning.
PortentousLickety Split was perfectly happy until he read the good news. ‘...is coming to Ponyville to congratulate you on your acceptance into the Canterlot Academy of Arts, and would like to meet you tomorrow. We will meet at your house at six P.M. prompt for coffee. Please send a telegram in response... He brushed his blond mop of mane out from his eyes and giggled in sheer terror. The name was right at the bottom of the page. Filthy Rich, Ponyville’s leading businesspony and philanthropist, Lickety’s patron of sorts. The signature, too, which shouldn’t have made it worse, but somehow did. There was another name too, the name. The name of a pony known by few but worshipped by many. The pony who had contributed more to culinary understanding in one decade than a hundred chefs in a lifetime. The mare known to bakers and patissiers the world over as The Bread Scientist. Golden Grains herself was coming to his house. His idol. His distant mentor. His academic advisor to-be. He had all of her books. He had three copies of The Question of Butter, one for reading, one for lending, and one in case anything happened to the other two. That had been the book that pulled him bodily into the wonderful world of food science and thaumaturgical gastronomy. He’d marveled at the writing back in school, and it had never lost its touch. Now its author was coming here. This was simultaneously the most wonderful and most terrible thing in the entire world. He was having friends over for drinks tonight, to celebrate his acceptance, full scholarship, and student grant (which had allowed him to pay the deposit for his new cottage) to study Accelerated Food Science at the Canterlot Academy of Arts. He shook his head. He’d have to cancel it, reschedule. He needed to be well-rested, prepared, and alert! The entire cottage had to be immaculate. If his genius future professor and his wealthy supporter saw even a hint of slovenliness they’d know what an underprepared, mediocre clod he really was, and that would be it. He had to cancel. It was only five in the evening now, his friends wouldn’t arrive for an hour and a half. Lickety willed himself to calm down, and to stop pacing a hole in the carpet around his coffee table. His friends would be fine with it, they were his friends after all. Maybe later, after some mad, rushed cleaning, he could go out and meet them at Berry’s Bar, or at least his friends who were old enough to get served. There was a knock on the door. Lickety nearly jumped out of his skin. Dinky Doo stood on his doorstep, reeking of clover and rust remover. Normally Lickety would have been glad to see the lilac-coated unicorn. Aside from being astonishingly clever and the only friend his age who dabbled in culinary science, she was also the reason he had a cottage. Dinky Doo dealt a mixture of legal, dubiously-legal and flagrantly illegal substances to half of Ponyville, and knew the financial state of every user in town before even they did. She had let Lickety Split know that the cottage would be available for an excellent price before the owner advertised it, and had even loaned him the money—interest free no less, and Dinky was not known for her charity—for the deposit while he waited for his stipend to arrive. He’d paid her back in full, of course, but Dinky had done him a whole lot of good. Something was wrong, though, or different at least. She was always wiry and skittish, but she looked twitchier than usual. Her set jaw suggested bullheaded drive and pure excitement. She held her gaze uncomfortably long, and a fire glowed behind her eyes. “Lickety I need your kitchen for reasons.” She pushed past him into the cottage before he could open his mouth to reply. “You’ve still got that dough mixer, right? The oil thermometers, lemon-zesters, the industrial deep fat fryer, all that stuff? ‘Course you do. Thank Celestia, you’re a lifesaver. I don’t know what I’d have done if I couldn’t use your kitchen. The only other people in town are the Cakes, those fascists...” The fully-loaded saddlebags clinked and rustled as she made her way through the cottage. Lickety tried to say something. “Dinky, I’m really sorry but—” was as far as he got before Dinky wheeled round and put her hooves on his withers, pulling him in close. “No. Stop. This is big.” “Yes but tomorrow—” “Bigger than tomorrow. Big. Look out there—” she turned him to face the kitchen window, where the sun had just set and the moon hung in the sky “—right there, at that. Look at the moon. You know how big this is? Bigger than that. It’s bigger than the moon.” Dinky let go of Lickety, turned, and began unloading her supplies. Along with a portable chemistry set came a lump of budding clover the size of a foal’s head, a salt-shaker full of salts, and— “Nitroglycerine?!” yelled Lickety. “Mare, calm your teats,” said Dinky, “I’ve got it charmed in six different directions and besides, I’m only using it as a stabilising agent for the uranium.” The name rolled around in Lickety’s brain, and triggered deep-seated equine fears when he recognised it. “T-that’s radioactive! It’s illegal to talk about that stuff, where did you get it? Why would you bring it here?!” “Me and this guy have this arrangement. Look, don’t even worry about it, it’s all stabilised and all prepared for easy clean up. Mare Cure herself could come here with an Io-Ra counter tomorrow morning and she wouldn’t find jack shit. I mean she wouldn’t, because she’s dead and all, but if she did she still wouldn’t find anything.” “Dinky, I make food in here—” Dinky shushed him. “Look, I have taken every possible precaution. Tomorrow, if you’re worried about any piece of equipment in here, I’ll get it replaced by sundown. That’s a promise. But, dude, as much as I love you and all, this thing right here is too damn big for your dilly-dallying to get in the way.” Lickety sucked in a deep, calming breath. It wasn’t too bad, he reassured himself. Dinky Doo was smart, and after she was done she could even help clean or help him prepare for the meeting tomorrow. He could handle this. “Okay. Okay, okay, this is okay. What are you even doing, anyway?” “I’m creating a clover plant with naturally-occurring salts crystals in the flowers.” “That’s illegal. That’s very illegal.” “I have an arrangement, chill out. I’m only making the germ seed and plant food here anyway. I’m not growing it in your cottage or anything.” “That’s still illegal. It’s illegal for me to even know you’re doing it.” There was a knock at the door. “It’s fine. There’s somepony at the door.” “It’s not fine, I cannot stress enough that this entire conversation so far has been illegal—” Another knock. “There’s still somepony at the door. Go answer the door, Lickety.” “We’re going to have words about this.” Lickety scowled at her, but Dinky was already buried in her work. With a huff, he stomped off to answer the front door. Pipsqueak stood in the summer drizzle, a thin cotton hoodie clinging to his lean withers, the rakish grin scrawled across his face, light-hooved and tipsy-eyed. He grabbed Lickety Split around the withers and pressed a hard kiss on his cheek. “Lickey, mate! Lookin’ lovely as always I see.” He deftly stepped inside, still hanging off Lickety’s shoulder. Lickety tried to respond, to protest, but Pipsqueak was warm and close against him, close enough that he could smell the hint of aftershave he wore, and the soft scent of cinnamon and wood and sex was enough to make his head spin. Lickety Split had a boyfriend. He loved Rumble very much. Rumble was a gorgeous pegasus, kind, daring, funny, impossibly supportive, and the best boyfriend a colt like Lickety could wish for. If he had to pick between Pipsqueak and Rumble, he’s pick the pegasus over the pinto in a heartbeat. He’d spent several years of school with a crush on Pipsqueak, though, and that didn’t count for nothing. Panic started to rise in Lickety’s throat. He felt as if everything was going wrong at once. “Pip, I can’t—” Suddenly, Pipsqueak backed off. He left a single hoof on Lickety’s withers and looked at him, eyes full of concern and compassion. “What is it, Lickey? What’s wrong?” “Tomorrow Mr Rich and Golden Grains who is my future academic advisor and a total genius and my idol for years are both coming round here for coffee to my cottage and the place is going to be a mess they’re going to think I’m a disgusting incompetent who shouldn’t be allowed near a kitchen and oh Celestia I’ve even got her books on display she’s going to think I’m a suck-up I haven’t done any preparation they’re going to talk for a minute and then it’s going to be an hour of awkward silence before they kick me off the course and withdraw my stipend and my name will be mud and I’ll work at some ratty sno-cone place until I’m an old stallion and all the magic of food science is gone and I won’t even like mascarpone any more! I won’t like mascarpone!” Lickety stopped, breathing hard, on the verge of tears. “Right. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay?” Lickety nodded, sucking in air. “O-okay.” “Look at me, Lickety,” said Pipsqueak, “This is good news. You are a bona-fide genius with all manner of desserts and pastries. Bon-Bon, Pinkie Pie, the Cakes, they’ll all say the same thing. Filthy brags about how much he’s been able to invest in you. They all love you, because you are awesome. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re utterly adorable.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. So here’s what’s gonna happen. First, we’ll give you the once-over, make sure you’re feeling completely ready for the meeting, and make sure you’re ready to sweep them off their hooves. Second, we’ll help clean your cottage top-to-bottom, to your specifications. I mean, this is already the tidiest house of any teenager I’ve ever seen, but if there’s anything else to sort out, we’ll do it for you. Third, you need a positive attitude, which means relaxing and having some fun.” Pipsqueak paused for effect, and leaned in close, “Which means, my friend, that it’s time for some drinks.” “Can we come in yet?” slurred a voice from outside. Lickety turned, horrified, to look out of the open front door. There must have been thirty ponies there, all in various states of drunkenness. “Come on in, everypony, the party starts now!” yelled Pipsqueak. Like a fast-forward film of a shoot growing into a tree, a party appeared around Lickety. Ponies dragged in speakers and subwoofers, Lickety’s favorite dance album blared out, the lights were turned down, Diamond Tiara climbed on a plush sofa and started dancing as she cradled a bottle of sparkling wine in her hooves, a keg of cider was rolled in, followed by a crate of— “Bourbon?!” Lickety’s voice went suddenly soprano. He grabbed Pipsqueak by his withers and shook. “You brought a crate of bourbon here! Pip, buddy, you have to get rid of it, the last time you brought a crate of bourbon to a party things got set on fire!” “Oh, Lickey, we were mere foals back then,” replied Pipsqueak smoothly, shaking his hips to the music, the smile never leaving his lips. “It was eight months ago! Shady Daze is still in juvie!” A cocktail glass full of sparkling, amber liquid appeared in Pipsqueak’s hooves, and he slipped it towards Lickety Split. “Here, have this.” Lickety took a sip. Then a gulp. Then drained half of the glass. It was as if he’d dunked his head into a bucket of frozen apples, with just a hint of vodka. He hiccupped, giggled, and turned bright red. Pipsqueak just kept grinning. “Applebite is still your favorite, I take it?” “Y-yeah...” “Good. Relax. Have fun. I’ll make sure things don’t get too rowdy, all right?” Lickety nodded, and Pipsqueak sauntered off to start dancing. It felt like every teenager in Ponyville was here. Featherweight, Pina Colada, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Dee Pad, Chowder, Silver Spoon, Alula... Lickety could smell clover smoke, unicorns were divvying out salts into pea-sized spoons for a quick sniff, cider flowed freely with cheer, the sofas and coffee tables had been pushed against the walls to make room for dancing, ponies ground against each other, horns flashing, wings twitching, hooves stomping, sweat flicking from manes and tails. In the face of this lurid, lascivious display, Lickety Split did the only sensible thing: he ran upstairs into his room. He pulled the cover off the telegramophone. Five years ago, only the Riches, the mayor, and the princess had one of these in Ponyville. Now, just about everypony did. He flipped through the book until he found Rumble’s parents’ code, tapped it into the machine, and began to type. ‘Lickety here house is party and cant control it plz help asap l.y. xxx’ He pressed the ‘send’ button, and a clockwork dial clicked until the price read ‘2.3 BITS.’ He pressed the button a second time, and with a ‘clunk’ the message went off. Lickety closed his eyes and slouched in his chair for a moment, feeling the vibrations of the bass from below. It would be okay. Pipsqueak said he’d keep everything under control, and Rumble will be here soon. All he had to do now was go back down to the party, look like he was having fun, and try not to vomit from anxiety before his boyfriend got here. There was another knock at the door. It couldn’t be Rumble, even he wasn’t that fast. More guests, perhaps? Neighbors here to complain already? He steeled himself and went back downstairs. Two unicorns, one ruby-red and the other pale blue, stood in the doorway. Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute. Both of them were good friends. That meant they wouldn’t be here to dump more unreasonable demands on him, right? Whatever they wanted was obviously perfectly simple and normal and had nothing to do with the dozen-odd ponies behind them, all in their late twenties and thirties, looking sleazy and aggressive and holding eye contact for too long. “Hey Lickey,” said Ruby Pinch, “We need a favor.” “Oh, you’re having a party anyway, thank Celestia,” said Tootsie Flute, “We thought this was gonna be all awkward.” “Um, I’m sorry, but this really isn’t a good—” “So Vinyl Scratch and my mom are working on something together, something about the acoustics of new wine, and we basically need all of Vinyl’s friends out of the way ‘cause Vinyl doesn’t want them in her room unsupervised. It’s just for the night,” said Ruby. “Yeah, they’re fine as long as you don’t give them any hard drugs and don’t look at them funny and join in if they ask you if you want any salts,” added Tootsie, “We’ll be with them all night anyway, so don’t even worry.” “But—” Ruby leaned on him, “Thanks ever so much, dude, we’d have been sunk without you. So, this is ‘Tavi, Noel, Blues—y’know what, nevermind, you’ll all get introduced later. Come in, guys!” The roadies and musicians swept inside. They smelled like vodka and public transport. Several of them spat before entering. The last one in was a grey mare with a dark-grey mane. Her purple eyes lingered on Lickety for a moment. “so this is your house yah” The words slipped out with the minimum possible effort, as if the very act of speech was a chore. The voice spoke of private education and a childhood in Trottingham. It took Lickety a second to realise she was speaking to him. “Huh? Yeah, yeah. Wait, are you—you’re that cellist, the really famous one. Octavia! Octavia Philharmonica!” “yah thats what mummy calls me. are you a fan” “Yeah, I like your music.” “cool got any heroin” “What? No!” Octavia rolled her eyes. “yah a lot of ponies say they’re fans but none of them have any heroin” With that, she slipped off to join the rest of the musicians. The front door shut, and Pipsqueak was beside him, passing another Applebite into his hooves. He found himself pulled into the dancing and the music and the fun. It was okay. All he had to do was not have a nervous breakdown before Rumble arrived.
HubrisRumble was here and everything would be okay. Lickety Split threw himself onto the pegasus, wrapping his forehooves tight around him as if to make sure he was really there, burying his face into his lover’s muscular neck. Rumble practically carried him upstairs to the bedroom, and sat him on the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong?” he asked. Lickety realised he’d been holding in tears, that he was on the edge of a breakdown, and that this was the perfect time to step over that edge. He collapsed, sobbing, into Rumble’s hooves. “—everything’s gone wrong Golden Grains is going to be here in hours and there’s a party that I just can’t handle right now and a drug lab in my kitchen and I think there are heroin addicts in the spare room and oh Celestia I just don’t know what to do.” “Come on, let it out,” whispered Rumble. He nuzzled Lickety, kissing away his tears. He always knew how to calm him down. Rumble draped a blanket over him, kissed him on the lips, then left the room. He returned moments later with a glass of water from the bathroom, which Lickety drank down gratefully. “Tell me what’s going on and we can make it better,” he said. Lickety explained everything that had happened. “Okay,” said Rumble, “I get you. You want me to kick them all out?” Lickety smiled as warm, fuzzy feelings rose through him. Rumble would kick them out, he knew, even if he had to drag them out by their tails to do so. But still, he had to shake his head. “No, we can’t do that. I owe Dinky a lot for this house, and I don’t think moving her would be safe for anypony involved right now. I don’t wanna stop the party because Mr Rich’s daughter is here, and you know what she’s like.” Rumble considered this for a moment, and then said “How about this: We both make sure the party doesn’t get too crazy until it winds down at two in the morning. Then, we say everyone has to leave, and that nopony is sleeping over. I’ll get Pipsqueak to offer his place, so there won’t be any trouble.” Lickety gave him a little grin. “Pipsqueak owes you a favor?” “Nah, Pipsqueak owes you a favor for being an ass, more than once. I’m just going to remind him. Gently, gently!” he said at Lickety’s dark look. “He can take the musicians while he’s at it. As for Dinky... We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, huh?” Lickety nodded, and cuddled back in to Rumble. “And whatever happens, we will make sure that it gets cleaned up. This cottage will look perfect before the mare of your dreams steps hoof in it.” Lickety blushed. “She’s not competition for you, or anything...” Rumble burst out laughing, and kissed him on the cheek. “Babe, you don’t even need to say that. You’re the gayest pony I’ve ever met. Vaginas make you visibly uncomfortable.” “They look like sad clowns...” he mumbled. “But you really admire her and want her to like you, yeah? She’s like Spitfire is to me, right?” “Yeah...” “Exactly. So we’ll make it awesome and everything will be awesome.” “Yeah.” “So whaddya say you come downstairs with your impossibly handsome boyfriend, and we enjoy the party together for a while, huh?” “Yeah! Let’s do that!” Downstairs, the party was in full swing. Ponies played drinking-twister (twister where if it was your turn, you had to drink!), grinding against each other in the living-room-turned-dancehall, making out in dark corners, smoking clover on the couches. After half an hour of dancing, Rumble and Lickety Split were dripping with sweat and in need of a drink. They left the dancers and headed over to the keg. Apple Bloom was doling out cups. “You ain’t charging for this?” asked Rumble. “Nah,” she replied, “Pipsqueak paid in advance.” “Ah, that’s cool—” Before he could say another word, Diamond Tiara stumbled into him. “Hey dickhoof, watch where—heeeeeey Rumble, how are you doing tonight?” “Yeah I’m good thanks,” he said, tensing up as the mare climbed all over him. “That’s good, look, I know you’re gay and all, but *hic* it’s like, mares have buttholes too y’know and some of us are like, totally into that,” she slurred. “That’s nice. I have a boyfriend.” “Yeah that’s true but, but, have you thought that me and Silver Spoon are both really, really good at sucking cock, and we’d like, totally do you at the same time—” Silver Spoon herself appeared from the crowd and began to lead Diamond Tiara away. “Hey Rumble, sorry, I think my friend here needs a glass of water and maybe a breath of fresh air away from all these ponies that can hear you, Di...” Rumble smiled at her. “No problem. Need a hoof?” “Thanks, but I’ve got this.” “I could use a hoof,” said Diamond, “H-hey, y’know what a ‘rusty trombone’ is, Rumble—” “That’s enough, Di, lets gooo,” said Silver, sing-song, as she led her friend away. Rumble and Lickety Split looked at one another, and burst out laughing. A loud bang came from the kitchen. Lickety jumped a foot in the air. “You want me to check it out?” asked Rumble. “I’ll check it out, you keep an eye on the party. I know enough science to duck at the right time.” Rumble nodded, and Lickety headed into the kitchen. The kitchen stunk of acrid chemicals, and the lights flickered on and off in ways that made Lickety feel woozy just looking at them. Every time the lights went dark, chalk circles glowed on the floor. Dinky was in the center of it, hunched over the sink. Next to her, the dough-maker churned. She didn’t even look up. “Everything is fine. I totally expected that to happen.” “Do *cough* do you need any help?” “No. Oh, some of those circles on the floor are electrically charged, by the way, so. Y’know. Don’t disturb my circles.” Something thick and dark reached over the lip of the dough-mixing bowl. It looked at Lickety. Dinky turned her head, lifted a spatula in her telekinesis, and slapped at the thing until it fell back down into the mixing bowl. “Dinky what the shit was that?!” “Non-newtonian fluid moving due to ambient vibrations. Nothing to worry about. Not sentient,” she said. “Probably.” Lickety Split was about to protest when the noise of something breaking came from upstairs. “Celestia, what now?” He ran upstairs and burst into the spare bedroom. Twelve rough-looking middle-aged musicians sat on various bits of furniture. Half of them were holding guitars, and there were more lit cigarettes in the room than there were ponies. “—so if I run my magic through the E string and play G-minor, it sounds exactly like a bed breaking in half,” said one of them. “Lickety! Come on in,” said Ruby Pinch. She was sat next to Tootsie Flute, and they were both eating from a bowl of popcorn. “Nothing’s breaking?” he asked. “Nah, we’re just chillin’. Take a seat,” said Tootsie Flute. He sat down between them. The musicians seemingly hadn’t noticed him come in. They were half-listening to a stallion in his late twenties with a dark, brown coat and a shaggy mane that fell over his eyes. With a heavy, Northern-Trottingham accent, he said, “...and so I sez to him, look, if you’re gonna be such a mardy fookin’ cunt about it I’m gonna fookin’ twat you right in the gob, but he don’t fookin’ listen, he don’t fookin’ listen to anything, the cunt. Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.” They all found themselves nodding along to the chords. “Catchy,” said Ruby. The stallion shook his head. “Nah, love, it’s too mainstream to catch on. Real music these days is all slide whistles and train noises.” “Yeah, Noel, that’s what I always say,” said another, “It don’t matter if you’re brass or woodwind, it’s not what you blow, it’s who you blow.” “S-so are you guys all musicians?” asked Lickety. They all laughed. One of them spat on the floor and then looked directly at him. “No mate, we’re fookin’ gigolos innit. You want some bum love?” “Brassley, be nice,” warned Tootsie Flute. The stallion put his hooves in the air. “Calm down, love, just havin’ a laugh. Ee’, lad, ‘Tavi sez you’re a fan of hers. Is that right?” “H-huh?” squeaked Lickety. “Yeah, she’s good.” “Yeah, she knows her way around a cello I’ll say that much. Word of warning though mate, if she offers to shag you, say no. She’s got enough yeast between her legs to start a fookin’ brewery!” “brassballs you’re such a twat i don’t even know why we bring you around everywah. anyway lickety yah? have you seen me play anywah?” “Um, never live. I did see your Grand Galloping Gala tapes, though.” “oh my celestiah, you did not see those tapes i thought they’d all been burned” “You didn’t like them?” “oh i like loved them but the conductah didn’t feel the same way hah hah. i’d done so much laudanum before our second set that the element of laughtah came up on stage and dry humped me in front of like everypony yah and i didn’t even know about it until afterwards” She paused and took a drag from all eight of her cigarettes. “anyway do you have any heroin anywah?” Ruby Pinch sighed. “‘Tavi, we’ve been over this. Lickety does not have any heroin in his spare room.” “Wait, which room’s the spare room?” asked Noel. “This one,” said Tootsie. “There’s heroin in this room?” “No, there’s no heroin—” “Where’s the fookin’ heroin?!” “Check the drawers!” “Maybe he’s hiding it in the pillows!” “Under the carpets!” “bet it’s in the mattress yah” “Tear the books apart!” In a second, all the musicians stood and fell on whatever was closest to them, shaking and rattling and tearing through it until they were sure that it hid not one scrap of heroin. “STOP! ALL OF YOU, STOP!” As soon as the words left Lickety Split’s lips, every pony in the room froze and looked directly at him. He wished the words had not left his lips. Noel sat back down and picked up the guitar. “All right. We’ll stop.” “yah we’ll stop looking for heroin. for now” Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute sat frozen with rictus grins on their faces. Their eyes flitted between twelve angry musicians and Lickety Split. He swallowed. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go back downstairs and enjoy the party,” he said quietly. “Yeah, you do that mate.” “have fun yah” Lickety Split stood up, his eyes never leaving the ponies in the room, and walked out backwards. He shut the door—slammed it, really—and sat down on his haunches. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. Then a screaming came from down the stairs. It was all Lickety could do not to just lie down on the carpet and wish very hard for everyone to disappear. Downstairs, in the living room, the dance-floor had shied back to give the two mares screaming at each other some space. Pina Colada was yelling, so drunk she could barely stand upright. “—Bitch, did you just call me a slut? I will fucking end you, you dumb bitch!” “You are a fucking slut you bitch,” screamed Alula, “You’ve sucked every dick in Ponyville, you’d suck your dad’s dick if you thought he’d love you for it—” “You did not just—” Chowder, the tall, fat and imposing grey colt, stepped between them. “Ladies, please, let’s not—” Both fillies pushed straight past him and pressed up face to face again. “Oh look, now you’re getting Chowder to step in between us huh bitch, you know you can’t fucking take me—” “I’m getting him, no, you’re the one who wants Chowder in front of you, slut, because you can’t go ten fucking minutes without sucking somepony’s dick—” The music changed from generic rock to the cheesiest of dance-pop, and the volume doubled. “Oh my Celestia this is totally my jam,” said Pina Colada. “Yeah mine too dance break!” said Alula. Slowly, carefully, the dancefloor pushed back in around them, and the party was back to normal. Lickety Split glanced at the DJ’s decks to see who his saviour was. Warmth bubbled inside him when he saw Rumble grinning back at him, headphones pressing down on his slicked-back mane. Rumble clambered through the crowd, grabbed Lickety, and kissed him. Lickety sunk into the kiss, willing and grateful. “That’s the third time this has happened since you went to check on Dinky,” said Rumble. “Mare, when will ponies learn that you can’t throw a party without a DJ on hoof at all times? Shouldn’t Tootsie Flute be doing this?” “She’s, uh, babysitting,” said Lickety, raising his voice so he could be heard over the music. “Things are getting pretty crazy and they haven’t even opened the bourbon yet. I think Pipsqueak needs to make good on his promise. You want me to find him for you?” “He’s not here?” “Nah, I think he went upstairs.” “Okay. Right. You keep an eye on everything here. I’ll be right back!” He kissed Rumble on the lips and went back upstairs. Pipsqueak wasn’t in the bathroom, and Lickety wasn’t willing to check the spare room again. His bedroom door was shut. There was a sock on the doorknob. I shouldn’t have to knock on my own bedroom door, Lickety thought, but he knocked anyway. Pipsqueak opened the door a crack. His hoodie was gone, and he reeked of sweat and hormones. “Hey, Lickey! I’m having sex with Diamond Tiara, and Silver Spoon is filming it. Wanna watch?” “...you’re making porn with Mr Rich’s daughter. In my bedroom.” “Yeah, it’s fun! Y’know, I never realised how hard—heh—it was to get a stiffy and keep it up between shoots. Not something I usually have a problem with, right? Anyway, have you got any boner pills lying around mate?” “No, I don’t. I’m just going to go and think of all the ways that Mr Rich will ruin and murder me when he sees porn of his daughter filmed in my bedroom which he will instantly recognise because he’s coming over for coffee tomorrow.” Pipsqueak waved him off. “Oh, don’t be like that. Only Diamond Tiara is getting a copy anyway, so you don’t have to worry about anypony seeing it. It’s not like she’s going to act out to get back at her wealthy, distant father or anything.” “Damn it Pipsqueak—” said Lickety, but Pipsqueak was already looking downwards. “Uh, we’ll talk in just a minute, I really need some boner pills. Dinky will have some, I’m sure of it...” With that, Pipsqueak slipped past him and walked downstairs, flopping as he went. Lickety, against his better judgement, opened his bedroom door to try and talk them out of— “Where have you been Pip get your face in here I’m antsy—” —and he walked face-first into Diamond Tiara’s presented rump.
DownfallLickety had given up on trying to keep the party under control. He’d given up on anything that wasn’t curling up on the sofa while Rumble cuddled him. “—was horrible, and I can’t get the smell out of my nose!” “It’ll be okay, baby. You need a hug. And lots of soap.” The pair looked around the living room in despair. The mood of the party had darkened. The bourbon was open. Metal blared from the speakers. Mares glared at each other. The dancefloor was turning into a mosh pit. Cheery conversations turned to bitter gossip. “I’ll need to burn the house down,” said Lickety, “If I burn the house down and say it was heroin addicts, I can claim it on insurance. And I’ll have to have coffee with Mr Rich and the Bread Scientist somewhere else. Because we can’t have coffee in a burned down house. That would be silly.” Rumble stroked his mane and kissed his neck. “Babe, it’ll be okay. We just have to get them out before the vomiting starts,” he said. “There’s no going back after the vomiting starts,” he added, darkly. They’d been laying there for half an hour now, and things were spiraling out of control. Sounds of fighting and music came from the spare bedroom above. Pina Colada and Alula were screaming again. Ponies were jumping on the other sofas. Two would-be DJs pushed and shoved over control of the decks. The party was a spilled drink from turning into a full riot. A deep, rumbling crash, like thunder from overhead, rolled out from the kitchen. Then, a shockwave of air that blew manes and tails to the side. In an instant, the house filled with thin, purple smoke. It smelled like cheap coffee and dusty, forgotten hats. After a single sniff, all of Lickety’s worries seemed to melt away. He didn’t have to be anxious, he didn’t have to fear for his life and his future, he could just be completely, absolutely calm while Rumble cuddled him. Everypony else in the room seemed to agree with him. The tension dissipated immediately. The two DJs stopped fighting, turned off the metal, and turned on slow dancing. Pina Colada moved in to kiss Alula, and Alula kissed back. It was as if a great sigh of contentment had passed through the party. At least one pony was unhappy, though. Dinky wandered into the living room, looking singed and tearful. “My creation! My beautiful creation is gone! Mere ash in the wind!” Lickety Split tried to sit up, but ended up just looking at her. “What happened?” he asked. He tried to put some concern in his voice, but couldn’t manage it. “Somepony turned off the dough mixer and let the seed germ sit,” she wailed. “The failsafes activated and teleported all of the dangerous materials back into the containment vault. Without them, the other components combusted! Gone, gone in a cloud of clover, salts, and mild opiates!” Lickety nodded along, wriggling backwards into Rumble’s warmth. Rumble was impossibly, stupidly comfortable. “Huh, that’s a bummer.” “Who?!” cried Dinky Doo, “Who would do such a thing?” “Heeeeeey, Dinky,” slurred a voice from across the room. Pipsqueak stood, barely, swaying from side to side, straining to keep both eyes open. “Your pills didn’t, uhhh, the pills, pills that were yours that I took, pills for my boner, heh, boner, they didn’t woooooork. Your pills.” “What.” “Yeah I came in to the kitchen where you were working over that things but, but I didn’t want to distuuuurb you, so I just, I, uh, went through your bag and found your pill stash and took the boner pills but, uh, the boner, heh, pills for my boner they’re not working.” “You got past my electric wards,” growled Dinky, “to steal erectile dysfunction drugs.” “Ohhhh, that’ssss, that’ssss why the flooor was tingly ‘n stuff, ohhh. Yeah, I took the pills that look like little blue squares, only one so maybe I needed more but it’s reallly not doing anything down there so maybe I didn’t take enough?” “Blue square—Pipsqueak you dipshit, blue diamonds are boner pills! Blue squares are fucking tranquilizers!” “Huh,” said Pipsqueak. He swayed, righted himself, and looked back at Dinky. “Innit what I jus’ took?” “Yes, Pipsqueak, it is what you just took. Did you happen to unplug an industrial dough mixer while you were in the kitchen, dumbass?” “What, oh, the noisy thing yeah, it was noisy and I couldn’t concentrate on which pills were which so I turned it off so I could concentrate,” said Pipsqueak. “Wow, the floor looks really, realllly comfortable. Look, I’m going to lie down on the floor now and sleep, so, uh, yeahhh, do us a favor and make sure I sleeeep on my side.” And then he was out like a light, snoring on the carpet. Dinky broke down crying. Featherweight got up from one of the sofas and stumbled over. “Dinky, sweetheart, are you okay? I didn’t know you were here tonight.” “My science experiment blew up,” she sobbed. “Oh, you poor thing, not again. C’mere, gimme a hug.” The lanky, cream coated pegasus wrapped his wings over the unicorn, cuddling her gently. “It always happens, and I just don’t know what went wrong...” “It doesn’t always happen, you’ve had loads of successful experiments, you’ve just had a bad month is all, okay?” “Mm’hmm,” she sniffled. “Come on, come with me. You wanna get some waffles and ice-cream?” She shook her head. “You want me to read science-fiction to you?” She shook her head. “You wanna get some waffles and ice-cream while I read science-fiction to you?” There was a pause, and then a slow, soft nod. “Come on, then. Let’s get some waffles and ice-cream, then” “A-and science-fiction.” “And science-fiction. Come on, Dinks, you can ride me for once.” He loaded the unicorn onto his back, and took his leave. All around the room, heads began to perk up. “Hey, is it just me—” said one pony. “—Or does that smoke make you really, really hungry?” “I could mow down some cheesy fries right now,” said Chowder. “Mushroom kebabs!” “Beanburgers! Really spicy beanburgers!” “Hey, are there any Saddle Arabian places open in Ponyville this late?” “There’s Akhal-Teke’s, that’s across the street from Beanburger Palace, they’re both 24/7.” In groups of two and four and five, ponies began filtering out of the house to find late-night munchies. Scootaloo was last of all, hauling Pipsqueak’s sleeping form over her withers. “Jeez, my boyfriend is such a lightweight,” she muttered. “Time for some fries, bitches!” Lickety Split and Rumble found themselves alone in a deserted living room. The peace didn’t last long, however. Seconds later, a dozen hoofsteps thundered down the stairs and the musicians burst into the living room. “All right, enough sitting about, it’s time to lay waste to this fookin’ party—ee, where is everypony?” said one, “There was ponies ‘ere when we came in, I’m sure of it.” “Yeah, there was—” Noel sniffed the air, “—Do you lot smell that? It smells like opium but it ain’t. Crikey, I could really go for some opium right now. Or heroin. Either’s good.” “yah i bet that bitch Vinyl has some opium somewah lets go to hah place” “Ee, she’s right, I left a ‘teenth there an’ all. Come on guys, let’s head to Vinyl’s place.” The musicians all lit two and a half cigarettes each, and slouched out. Ruby Pinch and Tootsie Flute ran after them, cursing and yelling. Lickety Split sat up, and said “It’s over.” “It’s over,” he said again, not caring a jot if he was tempting fate. “We can get everything ready, prepare for tomorrow, and—it’s only three A.M.! We have time to sleep!” Rumble cuddled him from the side, kissed his neck, and nipped at his ear. “Sure, if sleep is all you want...” Lickety Split blushed. With his blond mane, brown fur, and pink cheeks, he looked like Neighapolitan ice cream. “Well, that too. Bedroom?” “Bedroom.” They walked upstairs, leaning on each other, giggling and laughing, nipping and nuzzling until they reached the bedroom. After a quick detour to move Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon’s sleeping forms into the spare room, they settled down in bed together, for a night of kissing, grinding, licking, and some sleeping too. If either of them had noticed the flickering light on the telegramophone before sleep took them, they would have seen a new message in the machine. And if they’d looked at the new message, it would have read: ‘Mr Split typo in my previous letter we are meeting at my house tomorrow not yours sorry for confusion yours sincerely Filthy Rich’’ But that, and all else, could wait until the morning.
