Extra, Extra!

"Oh, Print, you brought your friends from the newspaper!" Papaya said happily. Emmett gulped, and Print's mouth hung open in horror. He had planned on whisking Mango up to bed and letting him sleep it off, but now there was no escape.

"Hey Ma," Mango gurgled from Print's back. Their mother squinted at him.

"Is he alright?" she asked. Mango was trying to slide off Print's back, but having a hard time of it. He reached one hoof to the ground and wobbled, throwing Print off balance and setting them both stumbling. Print shrugged him onto the ground, trying to heave him upright.

"There's been a bit of a misunderstanding," Cometsong said in Ponjabi. Print silently noted her genius. She what his mother would call a 'good influence', which softened the situation a bit. Further, hearing somepony speak her native tongue better than Print was able would only butter her up even more.

"What sort?" Papaya asked warily, gesturing them to come into the house.

"Mango has eaten some particularly spicy peppers," Comet said evenly, her accent and phrasing impeccable. "And he's having a bit of a reaction." She trotted inside, careful to wipe her hooves. Emm shuffled in, helping Print drag an uncooperative Mango who was holding forth on the nature of the 'sky shinies' he claimed to see.

"Phantom chilis?" Mrs. Smoothie asked knowingly.

"How did you...?" Emmett asked, his feathers slowly floofing out.

"His father has the same allergy," she said dryly.

"Wait... It's an allergy? And Dad tried these?" Print asked incredulously.

"It is," his mother said, sounding exasperated. "And it's a simple fix. Get him in the shower and clean him up; I'll have the antidote ready by the time you're back down. The rest of you-" she said, pushing their plots to the table with her magic, "-are staying for dinner. Hope you like creme d'embrelaisse!"

"Food is soul fuel!" Mango ejaculated.

Commie and Emm were so stunned that they allowed themselves to be ushered to the table, shakily plopping down in the seats and looking at each other like they were in over their heads.

"Cold water, Print," Papaya deadpanned as she gave him the ‘get-your-butt-moving-we-have-guests’ face. Print snapped to, lugging Mango up the stairs to their bathroom.

"Come on dude, help me out," Print complained to him as they created the top step and Mango splayed out on the floor.

"The floor is moving dude," he said weakly.

"No it's not, come on," Print reassured him, picking him up under his sweaty forelegs and heaving him into the bathroom.

"It iiiiiiis," Mango whined. "It's like those stormball vibrating game things!" Print had no idea what he meant, but decided it wouldn't be important in a few minutes anyway.

Downstairs, Mrs. Smoothie was ladling out bowls of the creamy, zesty soup for them.

"So you're the famous Fast Times staff I hear so much about?" she said pleasantly.

"We're some of it," Emm said, looking around and taking note of the architecture and decor. He'd lived in Equestria his whole life, but he hadn't been inside many ponies' houses, certainly not one belonging to ponies from outside Equestria. He took a spoonful of the soup, and, finding it to his taste, happily spooned it into his beak as fast as he could swallow. Cometsong was more reserved, but enjoyed it all the same.

"This is delicious," she thanked her in Ponjabi.

"Equestrian, please," Papaya tutted. "We wouldn't want to leave anybird out." Comet flushed and Emmett glanced between the two of them.

"But thank you," Mrs. Smoothie said sincerely. "Is he hard on you?" she asked nonchalantly, brandishing a knife and beginning to slice fruit.

"Print?" Commie and Emm asked at once, turning to look at each other.

"No way!" Emmett said.

"He's probably nicer than some of us deserve," Cometsong said, kicking Emm's paw under the table.

"Oh, yeah," he said as his feathers floofed out again. "Sorry about the peppers; Mango ate the first one like a piece of candy, so I figured..."

"Not your fault," Papaya assured him. "That colt loves fiery food… He'd eat a raw goldfish if you told him it was spicy." Emmett's feathers fluffed up as much as they could, and he buried his face in his claws, flushing.

"Something I said...?" she asked, noting his reaction.

"Just a coincidence," Comet stated nervously. She wasn't sure how much Print had told her about Emmett’s piscicide.

Print wrapped Mango in a bear hug, his lighter frame struggling to lift his more athletic brother into the tub.

"Come on, dude," he groaned, straining to lift Mango more than a few inches off the ground. He collapsed on top of Mango's belly, his muscles aching. Mango licked his cheek.

"You don't taste like a smoothie," he mused. Print's cheek burned where his tongue had been. He brushed Mango's sweaty locks out of his face. He held his brother's head in his hooves, looking into his searching, addled eyes.

"Mango. Mango, listen to me. I need you to help me out here, and get into the tub," Print said solemnly.

Mango's eyes caught his for a brief moment, and Print thought he saw understanding. When he let go, Mango did his best to climb into the tub. He only got halfway over, and Print had to push his plot over, but Mango ended up in the fetal position on the shower floor. Print wearily turned on the water, leaving it cold. Mango shrieked in fright and surprise, flailing his legs, but he soon calmed.

"Feeling better?" Print asked over the dull hiss of the shower.

"A little," Mango croaked.

"Still seeing stuff?" Print asked, relieved to have some of his brother's lucidity back.

"The water is like... a road... I'm going down the road and passing all the drops," he said. He held up a hoof to interact with the cold water, letting it fall limply again onto his stomach. Print grimaced; Mango wasn't all-there just yet.

Print quickly shampooed Mango's hair for him, and scrubbed his coat. He decided that he never wanted foals. He considered cleaning Mango's back half, simply for the ammunition it would give him in future arguments, but he thought better of it, and just let water rinse his flanks and groin. He shut the water off, and toweled grumbly Mango off, leading him downstairs.

"So some ponies do eat meat!" Emmett exclaimed triumphantly.

"If you want to go to the outskirts of Hydrabad to meet them," Papaya quipped.

"Just a victory in principle," Emmett said in a smarmy tone. "It's an argument I've been having my my brother for a few years now, and--"

"Are you two okay?" Papaya asked when she caught sight of Mango and Print in the doorway at the bottom of the stairs. Mango's mane was tangled and ruffled, and Print hadn't escaped a second-hoof schvitz. Mango had an air of drugged sedation about him, swaying lazily with a towel around his neck, but Print looked ragged and weary. He was determined to set his brother right.

"Super," Print drawled, venom all but dripping from his lips. His cheek still burned.

"Still seeing those damn triangles," Mango complained.

"This will make those nasty triangles go away, sweetiepea," Papaya cooed, levitating a glass of some blend of fruit to Mango. He caught it after a few tries, and Print helped him knock it back. Cometsong and Emmett watched with bated breath. Mango swallowed the last of the blend, exhaling happily.

He stopped swaying within seconds, straightening up and his pupils returning to their normal size and shape. He opened his mouth to speak:

"That... was..." he began quietly. Everypony leaned in to hear him better.

"...TOTALLY WICKED!" he shouted gleefully.

Emmett collapsed back into his chair, thanking his lucky stars Mango wasn't cross with him, and Comet sighed a huge sigh of relief that the whole ordeal was over. Print's head bobbed in exhaustion, and Mrs. Smoothie turned away to hide her wry smile.

"What was in that?" Print asked desperately. "I need to know."

"Papayas, strawberries, and mangos," she said slyly. “Family recipe.”

Print facehoofed and staggered to an open chair at the table. His mom had a bowl of soup at his place before he finished sitting down. He sucked it down quicker than Emmett had.

“So you’re feeling better?” Papaya asked Mango.

“Oh, yeah, a ton; I feel like nothing even happened!” he bubbled enthusiastically. “I think I have a new routine for concerts.” Print snorted, but his staff stayed silent.

“Well, now that that’s over with, can you tell me anything about the articles you’re writing this week?” Papaya asked, offering everypony seconds. Emmett happily obliged.

“I wrote an opinion piece on stratification in Canterlot,” Cometsong said off-hoof.

“Mango broke the world record for eating phantom chilis, and I have pictures, so I’m probably going to write about that,” Emmett said sheepishly. Print turned his gaze towards the griffon.

“Yeah, and next week you’re going to write a follow-up piece explaining the chemical processes that turn capsaicin into phlebotinol,” Print said darkly, sounding for all the world like an angry father disciplining his child. “And the week after that, you’re writing an technical on the optimal thermal conditions of goldfish.” Emmett turned his eyes down to his soup, looking like he wanted to cry. A harsh punishment, by any standard, but Print was in no mood for mercy. His patience had been tried all week and his nerves had been rubbed raw.

“Come on, Print, that sounds a little harsh,” Mango said. Print directed his ire at his errant brother next.

“If you worked at the paper, I’d have you cleaning out the presses for the rest of the year,” he said coldly. Mango made as if to reply, but thought better of it. Print sardonically encouraged the retort. “Please, brother. Enthrall me with your acumen.” Rather than take the bait, he stalked up the stairs to their room, saying nothing.

“That was harsh, Naani,” Papaya said gently, using her affectionate nickname for him to cool his temper. Commie and Emm stayed silent, basking in the awkwardness that came from being in the middle of somepony else’s family spat.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“You can