Life's Left Hook

The six of you make your way up to the hotel room.

Upon your arrival, you take note of all of your luggage.

Most notably, the slightly deformed scooter box.

That's a powder keg waiting to go off, right there...

But, you bring no attention to it, and sit on the couch.

Scootaloo is still sound asleep in your arms.

Poor little thing.

You look at Octavia, who has wasted no time in finding a mirror to comb her mane.

"So, when are you leaving?"

"Soon," she replies, glancing at you before returning to herself. "The concert, in case you were wondering, starts in an hour and a half."

"That's actually exactly what I was wondering."

She stops combing for a minute, and gives you and Scootaloo a look.

"You're bringing her to my concert?"

You nod.

"She wanted to see one, and, well, you said you wanted it today rather than tomorrow."

"That's right," she replies, putting her comb back in her bags.

"I'll have to be on the ball then, today."

You smile.

"Well, you're usually pretty sharp, so—"

"Excuse me?!"

Octavia looks completely and utterly insulted.

"Huh, what? Oh, wait! No! Not sharp as in off tune, I mean, sharp as in... Focused! Skilled!"

She takes a minute to regain her composure, and then she lets out a little sigh.

"Oh. Good. I was wondering why you'd say... that...."

With that, she turns around and trots towards the door.

"I'd best be heading out. You'll have some time to yourself; seating starts about an hour from now, I'd assume."

"Great. We'll be there."

You can see Octavia smile sweetly just before she goes through the doorway.

"See you soon."

"Yep, see ya."

With that, the door latches shut.

Scootaloo is starting to stir, it seems; she's wriggling around in your arms.

The doctor, in the meantime, found a seat on the other end of the couch.

Cadance is taking a nap on the bed.

Trixie is nowhere to be seen. Probably in the bathroom.

You're content with just sitting back for an hour.

There's no rush to do anything.

"Anonymous, dear?" Cadance calls from the bed, not bothering to move her lazy ass.

"Yes, Candy?"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

You just why'd inside.

"Of couse."

"Come here, please. Set Scootaloo down, too."

You look down at the adorable filly in your arms.

"But I don't wanna..."

She lets out a groan.

"Please, Anon? It's important."

You sigh, and gently set down Scootaloo on the couch.

She doesn't wake, it seems, and you stand up.

You walk over to the bed, and sit down.

Cadance rolls over to face you.

"After the concert tonight?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't take your dress clothes off. We're getting a visit."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Is it Spitfire again?"

She shakes her head.

"No, it's not. It's probably more important than Spitfire, actually," she says, letting out a huff.

"Oh. Then who is it?"

She gives you a hopeful look.

"Have you ever met a world leader, other than me or Spitfire?"

You shake your head.

"Am I going to?"

"Yes, you are. The Prench Prince will be here to discuss relations, since he caught wind of my visit last night. It'll be a brief visit, I hope, but still. Look sharp, Anonymous."

"The Prench Prince?" you ask, a smile creeping on your face.

There's no way she'll get what you're thinking, is there?

"Yes, the Prench Prince."

"Is he from Bel Aire?"

Cadance blinks, surprised and astonished.

"...Uh, wow, I... I didn't take you to be much of a politician, or... Someone even remotely interested in foreign affairs, Anonymous."

Wait, what?

"Yes, he is. How did you know that?"

"Oh, I heard it somewhere before."

"Oh. Well, it's good to know you're no stranger to foreign affairs, at least."

She rolls over, facing away from you.

"It'll be right after the concert, pretty much. The doctor is taking the other four out to eat."

Oh.

That reminds you.

You haven't had something to eat for a while.

Your stomach grumbles with righteous fury.

"Speaking of food,"

"They're bringing us back some, don't you worry."

"I love you."

She giggles at you, smiling.

"I love you too. Now, go get Scootaloo ready. I'd imagine you want her to look good for the concert.

Oh, yeah.

You need to... Erm...

There's a lot of work to be done.

Concerning her mane and coat are about as greasy as a fryer at the drive inn, and she's about as formal as Applejack on a good day.

The formalities won't be easy to fix, you'll just have to tell her what to do and hope to high hell she listens.

But, the filth?

You can fix that.

You walk back over to the couch.

Scootaloo's sitting up, and is half awake.

Eh, close enough to awake, you suppose.

Without warning, you reach down and snatch her up.

She's taken by surprise, and flails a bit as you grab her.

"Huhwhat?!"

"Time to take a bath, Scooters."

"Huh?! What?!" she asks again, even more confused than before.

You pat her on the head to calm her down.

"I'm giving you a bath, since you're smelly and I want you to look nice at the concert."

"Gee, thanks, Anon," she grumbles, dangling helplessly in your arms.

"Oh, hush up. It won't be that bad," you say, opening the bathroom door and stepping inside.

You set her down in the tub, and after taking off your clothes, step in with her.

"You don't have to hold my hoof in the shower, y'know," she says, pouty.

"Well, too bad. I'm doing it anyway. Besides, you need a good scrubbing, and my hands can do just that."

At the thought of your hands, Scootaloo suddenly warms up to the idea.

But, she tries to hide it.

Although she isn't successful, you can still see Scootaloo being her typical self.

"Oh, okay, fine," she says in a tsundere tone.

With that, you reach and turn on the shower.

It's a shock at first, since it's so cold, bu in a moment it warms up.

Scootaloo's unkempt mane is now flat, covering her face.

All you can see is the stubby little tip of her snout.

She tries to look up at you, but her soppy mane is in the way.

"...Uh, Anon? I can't... See you."

"Then move your hair out of the way.

She does, throwing it back over her shoulder.

As she waits for you to get the soap, she plops down on her rump.

Those cute little stubby legs...

You squirt some shampoo into your hands.

"Okay, c'mere, Scoots. Let's start with your coat."

"Fine."

Scooters scoots over to you, not even bothering to get off of her rear.

You turn her so she's facing away from you, and you lather her coat with the berry-scented shampoo.

As soon as it's all over, you start digging in with your fingers, making sure that there's shampoo in every last place it needs to be.

Scootaloo, although reluctant to show her feelings at first, eventually relaxes, and closes her eyes.

Your fingers really are magic.

You reach up, scratching along her back and neck.

And then, you reach down to get her sides.

She wriggles a bit, but doesn't object in the slightest.

Fucking hell, her coat is filthy.

Dirt, crumbs, and Celestia knows what else is stuck in there.

And it's really, incredibly greasy.

Poor little filly.

How long has it been since she's had a bath?

You squirt more soap on, and keep lathering her coat.

Eventually, everything but her mane and tail are foaming with soap.

At which point, you shove her under the shower head and start scrubbing again.

After running your hands all over her coat, you get all of the soap out.

It's literally squeaky clean, and the difference is noticeable.

Instead of a dull, dirty orange before, now it's bright, vibrant, and a real eye-catcher.

But, the easy part was over, it seemed.

Time to handle her mane.

Eugh.

That mane was terrible.

You can physically see chunks of dirt and crap stuck in it.

Time to go to work.

You reach for the bottle of soap again, give Scootaloo's head one last hopeless look, and say to yourself;

"Fuck it."

You squirt the shampoo on her head without giving a single shit.

Then, you get to scrubbing that thing like there's no tomorrow.

Until you feel... Stuff stuck inside, that is.

You feel several large objects stuck in there.

Deciding soap will do no good, you try your best to dissect Scootaloo's mane and remove the contents within.

The first thing you pull out is the piss-stained Kyutey Kats figurine.

Laughing to yourself, you set it to the side.

But there are still some more things lodged in there.

Further investigation proves that said things are:

A pencil

A lone ketchup packet

A toy soldier

A half-empty pack of gum

A wad of already chewed gum

13 bits

And, last but not least, a pair of light blue earrings, which is odd, concerning you've never seen Scootaloo wear earrings.

Does she even have her ears pierced?

And why was she hiding these in her mane?

Wait, the doctor have a pair just like these...

Shrugging it off as a mystery only Scootaloo's young mind could explain, you keep scrubbing.

It's remarkably greasy.

So much so, your hands even feel grimy and sticky.

But, with time, scrubbing, and an assload of shampoo and soap, you manage to get it clean.

With even more scrubbing, that mane is pristine.

It's dark pink, and vibrant like her coat.

She looks twice as energetic as before, just because of this.

You didn't know that was possible.

Scootaloo, as you can clearly tell, is loving this.

She's let out a little groan as you scratch behind her ears, and you were sure to give her tiny neck a little massage as you worked down there.

She was the happiest filly you've ever seen.

That's no surprise; she usually is.

Usually.

With that, you rinse, and reluctantly repeat.

You grab her tail.

Thankfully, it's not nearly as messy.

Somehow.

Even though her shitter is right next to it.

You avoid looking at her privates the best you can.

She's just a filly.

That's just wrong, man.

After a long, painstaking scrubbing, that tail is poofy and clean as can be.

Or, well, so you hope.

The water isn't coming out brownish anymore.

She looks at you, her mane still dangling in front of her face.

"...Sheesh, Anon, how long are you gonna clean that thing? It's been, like, an hour."

"Well, I'm sorry, but you have more dirt on you than I have on Cadance."

She giggles a bit at your joke, and nods.

"Okay, okay, I get it. Is that thing clean yet?"

"I think so," you say, letting her tail plop to the floor.

"Finally."

With that, she waits and looks up at you expectantly as you open the shower door.

"Can I get some help?"

She must want a lift.

You nod, picking the soaking wet filly up and setting her down on the mat outside of the shower.

She lands on the floor, and before you can grab a towel, she starts shaking herself off like a dog.

Soapy water flies everywhere, peppering you, the towels, the sink, the mirror, and everything in the bathroom.

And, just like that, Scootaloo is about as puffy as a cottonball.

As you shield your eyes and reach for your towel, you can hear Scootaloo snickering at you.

As much as this annoys you, you can't help but smile.

The rambunctious little filly has a way to make you smile and laugh.

It might be her own laugh, and how squeaky and erratic it is.

Or maybe it's just that gigantic smile.

Either way, she's always a joy to be around.

You toss a towel on her head, enticing a little yelp as she's blinded.

After taking the towel off of her face, she starts to dry herself off.

You grab another towel. One that, fortunately, was unscathed by the Tscootanami -- and start to dry yourself off.

It doesn't take you long, since you don't have fur.

Except for on your head and around your dangly bits.

Once you're finished, you walk over and help Scootaloo get some of the tougher spots, like her back.

But, she shoos you away.

"I got this, dude. Don't worry."

You can only laugh at her and her attitude, smiling.

"Whatever you say, Scoots. Feel better after that?"

"Heheh, oh yeah, I do. I feel like a million bits."

As... Crude as she is, you think she's at least presentable at the concert.

Let's hope that assumption proves true.

Hope.