Unliving Proof: a Grumpy Goat <tail>
Unliving Proof: a Grumpy Goat <tail>
Unliving Proof
A Grumpy Goat tail
by
De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)
1156 words
© 2014 by Glen Ten-Eyck
“I should be living proof that there is good in the world. It is said that there is no good without evil. And I am. Evil, I mean. There is one small hitch in the living proof part, though. I am not. Living, I mean.
“Most Non-Equine magic is perfectly legal. One branch of that Art is forbidden by law and with excellent reasons. Necromancy. I am unliving proof that Necromancy is NOT safe. I made a little mistake, the one time that I tried it. That is WHY am like I am,” I explained to the mare in front of me.
The orange pony was sitting on one of the cushions that I keep for clients. She shook her head, making her yellow mane fly a bit. “I am sorry, I guess. I keep hearing you called a Necromancer. I thought that it just meant Non-Equine magic. Is there a difference?”
Patiently, since this is a really common misconception, I explained, “All Necromancy is Non-Equine in nature, that is true. NOT all Non-Equine magic is Necromancy. Most of it is not, in fact. To equate the two is sort of like saying that because one pony is a thief, all ponies are thieves.
“Necromacy is very specific. It is only concerned with raising the dead or the spirits of the dead. That is forbidden. Pretty much anything else, if my contract breaks no law, is legal. If we are to do any business, it will be done to the terms of a carefully drawn and prepaid contract that is publicly registered in the Ponyville Town Hall's, Hall of Records."
She looked down at my carpet. “I see, so you do not kill Coalsmoke's husbands?”
I scratched at my glamor body's neck with an equally false hoof. I stared at her for a deliberately uncomfortable interval. “No, not exactly. Coalsmoke is very prudent in the selection of her husbands. They will die soon, in any case. A few years at most. Coalsmoke is the best wife that she can be to each of them. And she is VERY careful with insurances, wills, trusts, properties and the like.
“When her husbands enter their terminal stage of illness, she brings them here. Together, we decide the best and most comfortable way for them to pass and they themselves make the contract that spares a prolonged and expensive demise.
“The Ponyville Medical society hates me for that and some other things that have cost them dear.”
The orange mare put a hoof to her mouth to suppress a giggle. “I read the Ponyville Prancer and I have heard about some of those things!”
“Thank you. Now, I remain curious as to why you are here at all. You have inquired about some things that only make sense in the context of of getting permanently rid of some pony or other. With VERY FEW exceptions, such things bother me not at all. Please state clearly what it is that you need.”
All of her lights went out at once.
“I need to die, reasonably soon. I want it quick and painless.” She stared at me with bleak, empty eyes. I let her stare until it became uncomfortable for HER. Turning her eyes away, she went on, “I don't look or feel ill, yet. Doctor Crossly says that is going to change. I appear to have a severe cancer that is going to need operations and other treatments. All that I have is a small farm raising several sorts of berries, carrots and potatoes. I can't afford the treatment and I don't want to die in pain.”
I held up a hoof. “Please stop right there. I thought that I recognized you. Sweet Berry of Sweet Berry Farms, correct?”
Sadly she nodded. “So, you won't help me? I was afraid of that.” She was starting to rise.
Held up my hoof again. “Not what I said at all. I not only can but have done contracts like what you are asking about. That does not bother me at all. It is Doctor Crossly in the works that makes me question things. The head of the Ponyville Medical Society has never in my experience been after less than a major Cashectomy of the Purse.
“Tell me, has anyone made you any offers to buy the land that your farm is on?”
Perplexed, she returned to the cushion and replied, “I had an offer from Stronghoof and Strangle, Commercial Realtors, but it was far too small for what even my bare land would be worth. I dismissed it out of hoof. Why?”
My glamored bare skull got a grim smile on it. Bare bone should not show expressions. It can, if the glamor spell is done well. Mine is. I reached up to my book shelves, conveniently close to my easy chair and pulled down Dunn & Wiedstreet, the Equestrian National Business Directory.
Leafing it open, I looked up an entry. Without a word, I held out the book, pointing to an entry. Stronghoof and Strangle, Commercial Realty. Owned jointly by the Ponyville Medical Society and Doctor Crossly individually. There was more of course, but that was the damning bit.
Sweet Berry's eyes snapped open, her pupils narrowing to mere pinpricks as she realized the implications.
I then pulled out a copy of the Ponyville Prancer from about a week ago. I opened it to the business section. Pointing to an article, I hoofed her the paper.
The Royal Road Commission was seeking land near to Ponyville for a rock and gravel grading and storage facility. Stronghoof and Strangle had been engaged to acquire the property for the new facility which would provide many new well paying jobs for the Ponyville area.
The rage written across Sweet Berry's face and in the set of her shoulders was lovely to see, since it was not directed at me.
I took back my book and newspaper. I reshelved the book and hung the paper back in its rack.
Turning my attention back to the furious Sweet Berry, I serenely asked, “Would you STILL want to discuss a contract? Perhaps with slightly different terms?”
Her return snarl would have done credit to an Everfree Ridgeback wolf as she said, “Yes! Does it need to be death or can it involve long painful suffering?”
Cheerfully starting to fill out the needful papers, I replied happily, “Long suffering it is! I happen to know from another source that Doctor Crossly will live for many years to come, if nothing interferes. Would you like the suffering that his available treatments cannot abate to go to the end of his natural life span?”
Sweet Berry, carefully reading over the contract, nodded. “I like the way the you think, Grumpy.”
--THE END--
Author's Note
The Grumpy Goat and stories of the Rom, all deal with the underside of the sweet pony society that we see in the shows.
Every society has bottom rungs. In my canon, those bottom rungs are goats, donkeys, and the Rom who are almost all unicorns the size and conformation of the horses that they are descended from.
Many of my stories are told from that viewpoint.
