Life's Left Hook

"Goooood MOOOOOOORNIIIIING EQUESTRIAAA!"

Your eyes jolt open as you wake.

A loud, scratchy voice is blaring from the radio on the nightstand.

"Oh, thank god, I can still get her signal from here," Octavia says, letting out a sigh of relief.

"From Manebourne to Darwhinny, from Las Pegasus to Detrot, I'm comin' to ya, loud an' proud from my schnazzy new studio in Pearis!"

Oh, hey.

It's Vinyl's radio station.

"Wait, isn't her studio in Canterlot?"

Octavia turns to face you, smiling.

"Oh, good morning, Anonymous. And, yes, it is."

"That's right, folks! Pearis, Prance! In case you aren't in the know, lemme catch you up; I, the one an' only DJ Pon-three, am goin' on tour around the world, bringin' my music, and my voice, around the world! And, you tell me, kids, where better to start than the cultural capital of the second bes—I mean, second most influential country under Celestian rule? If you live in Equestria, Pearis, or Celestia knows where else, when you got time, haul your plot up to Club Lucius in Pearis. I'm kickin' off my live, gut-bustin', ear-smashing concert in the biggest, baddest, craziest club on the planet! Can't make it? Aw, boo hoo. You'll have to make it to one of my other concerts. Look at the newspaper, or give me a ring if you wanna find out my dates. Anyway, enough of my self-inflation. Celestia knows I'm already the best. Time for some music. Feel free to call in and request anything! And, by anything, I mean anything! Rock, classical, honky-tonk—hell, I'm even aching for some techno every now and again. We're the best, and only, radio station in Equestria. Anything goes! And, ironically, that's the name of our request! This one's from an old friend of mine, Granny Smith, back in Ponyville. As the man once said, Anything Goes!" [youtube.com/watch?v=r7NJ9ylAhos]

The old tune starts playing through the scratchy radio.

Granny Smith made that request, eh?

You always liked her.

Even though she was cranky, usually, she was wise, and wanted the best for everyone.

That, and she gave you enough bits to do whatever the hell you wanted.

You'll have to pay her a visit when you get back.

Octavia turns the volume down, but doesn't quite shut it off.

"Well, it's nice to know she's back on air herself, instead of that godawful substitute," Octavia says, smiling.

That's a relief.

You sit up and start crawling out of bed, leaving Trixie without anything to cuddle.

"I'm gonna go wash off, Octavia."

"Of course," she says, nodding. "I'll be there in a minute. We'll have to make this on the double. Our train leaves rather soon."

Some concern shows on your face, and you quirk an eyebrow.

"And, uh, Cadance? Where's she?"

"I have no idea," she responds flatly, letting out a sigh. "I can only hope she comes back soon enough."

Great.

She's taking after her husband with a knack to go AWOL.

"Yeah, I hope too. See you in a minute, Octy."

"Of couse."

You head straight to the shower.

Considering how much sweat you worked up last night, you probably smell like satan's anal seepage.

You reach in, turn on the faucet, and wait for the water to warm up.

Every now and again, you test the water with the back of your hand.

It's bitter cold for at least a couple of minutes, but then, it's finally warm enough for you to step inside comfortably.

Watching your head to avoid clonking into the showerhead, you duck down and sit down in the tub.

You wet your hair, scratch your balls, and grab a soap bar, in that order.

As you wait for your, erm...

What would you even call her?

Marefriend?

Yeah, that'll work.

As you wait for your marefriend, you lather your cock and balls in soap.

Those things must smell like Shrek's swamp after all they've been through recently.

Time to give them a good ol' scrubbin'.

Afterwards, you wash your pubes off of the soap bar, set it down, and grab the shampoo.

And, just as you're putting it in your hair, you hear the door slide open.

Octavia trots inside, Trixie close behind.

She looks... Better.

Not nearly as bad as she was.

But still not 100% quite yet, it seems.

As you scrub your hair, you wave them over.

"All right, then, we're here," she says quaintly, trotting over.

You can see the crusty gunk still on both of their faces as they both manage to step inside and squeeze in.

Time to fix that.

Octavia steps in and sits in your lap, and Trixie sits right in front of her.

They both wash their faces under the showerhead, taking turns.

You, meanwhile, put some shampoo in your hands.

"Hey. Hey Octy."

"Hmm?"

She turns to face you.

"Look at the showerhead."

"Huh? Why?"

As she turns her head to look, you reach forward and dig your fingers into her luscious hair.

"Scrub scrub scrub."

She's surprised, at first, but doesn't move.

Well, until you really start digging your fingers in.

At that point, she visibly relaxes, and her eyes close.

Trixie is too preoccupied with the mess on her face to notice that Octavia is in an absolute bliss.

You keep scrubbing, scratching behind her ears, and moving your fingers down her neck.

She lets out a little hum as you do your work.

Trixie, having just finished washing her face successfully, just now takes notice of what you're doing.

"Trixie wants a scrub too," she says, unsurprisingly whiny.

"And you'll get one. Just wait a minute."

After another moment of scrubbing, you scoot under the showerhead with Octavia, washing both of your heads.

"Close your eyes."

"They're already closed."

"Oh. Right."

With an easy rinse and some gentle scrubbing, the soap is all gone, and her hair is squeaky clean.

Literally; when you run your fingers over it, it squeaks.

And damn is it shiny.

It looks like it belongs in a Disney princess movie.

Y'know, thinking about it for a moment, that applies to Trixie's hair too.

And Cadance's.

No kidding on the last one, she really IS a princess.

If not some sort of god, or demigod, that is.

It's a shame she isn't here right now.

"Ahem."

"Oh, right. Come here, Trix."

Octavia scoots out of your lap, and steps out of the shower to dry.

Meanwhile, you squirt some shampoo into your hands.

Trixie finds her way into your lap, and plops down.

Her mane's already soaked, so this should be easy.

She gives you a glance, impatiently waiting for you to start.

"Hey, Trixie?"

"What?"

"What's the magic woooord?"

"Shazam," she says flatly.

"Gee, someone's not one for manners."

"And someone's not one for fair treatment."

You let out a hmmph.

"Well, if you won't cool your jets, then maybe I won't scrub your mane!"

"Fine. Please, Anonymous. PLEASE, brush it."

"Thaaat's... Better, I suppose."

After a long moment of silence, she looks back over her shoulder.

"Oh, what now?" she says, impatient.

"I'm not convinced."

She lets out another hmmph.

"It's like you think I'm a circus clown..."

"No, I think you're just a cranky snootykins. Now, lighten up, and try again."

You can tell she's getting irritated as all hell.

But it's too fun.

"Please, Anon. Please, brush my hair like you did to Octavia. She looked like she loved it."

Well, that's better.

Having fulfilled her end of the bargain, you work on yours.

You dig your fingers into that light blue hair, lathering it with the shampoo.

Her eyes close as well, and one of her ears flick involuntarily.

You scratch behind her ears, down her neck, and below her chin.

As cranky as she was, or pretended to be, this brought a smile to her face.

You reach up her neck to the top of her head, and then down to her bangs.

After getting those all soaped up, you reach up, and—

*bump*

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch the horn, Anonymous!"

You recoil a bit, in fear you may have hurt Trixie.

Those horns must be sensitive as hell, you imagine.

You don't have to imagine, actually.

You got a first hand experience in Canterlot's auditorium.

And, with that memory, a curious thought comes to mind.

Are they all alike?

Or is Cadance's just that way because she's the princess of love?

Is it time to find out?

As much as you'd like, perhaps it's something to keep in mind for later.

Octavia says we're on a tight schedule.

With that, you bring Trixie under the showerhead and get all of the soap out of her mane.

It doesn't take too long, and just like that, you're done.

You let Trixie go, and you both hop out of the shower, grabbing towels.

As you start to dry off, you hear some commotion out in the living room.

Three or four people, talking.

One of them is Cadance.

Another is distinctly Itailian.

One is more refined.

And the other is about as crude and squirrelly as you can get.

Oh, hey, the whole gang's here.

After hanging up your towel, you glance at Trixie.

"I'm going to see what's up with the gang, and why Cadance was gone for so long," you say, putting your towel on the counter.

"Very well. It will take a while for Trixie to dry off. It'll be a few minutes."

"Mmmhmm."

With that, you step outside, and close the door behind you.

Not even a 'thank you'.

Sheesh.

Oh well. She must be pretty cranky and bothered, too, after the rough time she's had.

You decide to cut her some more slack, and give it until later today.

If it's still a problem?

Well, you'll be able to fix that.

You look around, and see the four ponies in question talking in the main room.

Cadance is back, looking just as prim and proper as ever.

The four turn their heads to you as you enter the room.

"Ready to go?" Octavia asks, smiling.

You nod.

"You'll be bunking with Scootaloo, Anonymous," Cadance says, gesturing towards the filly. "The train cab we have is made to have three people in it for the eight hour trip. We'll have to cram."

"Oh, good. We heading out right now?"

The group collectively nods, saying various affirmative phrases.

"As soon as dear Trixie gets out of ze shower," the doctor says, looking at the bathroom door, "ve'll be ready to go."

And, as if on cue, the door opens, revealing an absolutely semi-fabulous Trixie Lulamoon.

"Vell, speak of ze devil."

Trixie trots over to the group unceremoniously, her head rather low.

"Are we leaving?"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

"As soon as you're ready."

"Of course."

"Si."

Trixie nods. "Good. I'll be able to get more sleep on the way to Guadeloope. Let's get going."

Octavia nods.

"Yes, let's. We have fifteen minutes until the train departs."