Llamas: A Drama

by SkelePone

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Adventure, Main 6, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Romance
Length: 24595

The story of a small herd of llamas with big expectations.

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A small group of Llamas move into Ponyville. Of course, the woolly South Equestrians have a little bit of trouble adjusting to a very, very strange new world.

SUGGESTED LISTENING MUSIC
Studio Killers - Eros and Apollo (Poncho's Theme)
Studio Killers - All Men Are Pigs (Bonita's Theme)
Studio Killers - True Colours (Bronco's Theme)

Expecting new cover art soon enough.

Cha Cha (and her twin, Macarena) is based on a G1 non-pony character of the same name developed and sold but eventually forgotten long ago. She has not made an appearance in G4, and I do not believe that llamas will become canon anytime soon. But this is in case they do.

The llama culture is based largely on Peruvian, Chilean, Argentine, and Bolivian cultures. The cuisine and behavior is actual llama behavior, adapted to fit a sentient species. The magic used by llamas is based off of Mayan and Aztec beliefs, but I get most of the ideas (and a few names) from the Incas.

OUR LLAMA HERD:

Poncho - the leader and the musician
Churro - the baker
Macarena - the dancer; twin sister to Cha Cha (dies)
Cha Cha - the dancer; twin sister to Macarena
Mama - the elderly grandmother figure
Rico - the crippled youngling
Vicuña - the shaman
Bonita - the wool-maker
Bronco - the strong guard
Pepe Fouchan - the pack-llama and the dankest of memes

Published 2015-09-26 06:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-10-12 02:53:18 UTC

Chapter One: A Hard Decision

LLAMAS
a drama

by SkelePone

As you may know, Equestria is a truly immense and diverse kingdom.

Besides the ponies that are ever present in the large nation, there are the Buffalo Tribes of the plains. The Deer Tribes of the Everfree and the Flame Geyser Swamp. The Reindeer Tribes of the icy north surrounding the Crystal Empire. Griffon towns scattered across the kingdom. Dragon gatherings in the few active volcanoes remaining. A rare Zebra every once in awhile living amongst the ponies. Then there are also the lesser known Llamas of the South Equestrian Mountain Range.

The Alpaca Mountains are one of the larger mountain ranges running along Southern Equestria. They are a bit further south than Appleloosa, and are therefore a bit chilly. The inhabitants of the Mountains usually have thick coats of fur or wool. The most notable of dominant species here are the few pony trading posts, a griffon settlement, manticores, and of course, llamas.

Llama social behavior in the Alpaca Mountains is quite basic. Far simpler than pony social behavior, in fact. Llamas will divide themselves into Herds of various sizes, quite like the Buffalo of the plains and desert to the north of Appleloosa. Llamas usually avoid ponies and buffalo; mostly due to the fact that their cultures were so incredibly different. One particular llama who had previous experience, good and bad, with ponies was going through difficult times in his own Herd. His full name was Abuelo Urcuchillay. Abuelo Urcu, for short.

Abuelo Urcu surveyed his herd. The Guards stood in their traditional positions surrounding the rest of the herd; providing a sort of barrier against any possible threats to the safety of the Herd. The Packers milled about among the others, although they were notably closer to Abuelo. They carried their heavy bags, their sturdy legs carrying the incredible weight. Woolies and Mothers stood together with their crias.

Today was the day he had told every member of the Herd to be present for a herd-wide meeting with him, their Alpha. Abuelo had been practicing this speech for many moons, ever since the Tragedy of The Three Crias and The Five Guards, nay but five months past. From his position upon the tall chunk of volcanic obsidian that they called Speech Rock, he could clearly see that the younglings were growing restless. He had better make this speech quick.

“Now. I have gathered you here today to bring you unfortunate news-”

“Oh yeah, Urcuchillay? What is it this time? We lost three crias already this year and a manticore has killed many Guards. Winter is coming. We haven’t got nearly enough food for the entire herd to survive here. When will you really be taking action? How many more must die before we seek a solution?”

A hot-headed juvenile who Abuelo Urcu knew as ‘Poncho’ stood out among the crowd. His russet-colored wool standing out from the herd of vivid colors. Abuelo Urcu looked into the llama stallion’s blue eyes. Around the young stallion’s long woolly neck was an oopoochawa, a traditional instrument carved from wood and made with metal tines. This glaring juvenile would make a good alpha.

But not at the moment. for now, this was Abuelo Urcu’s Herd.

“Calm yourself, Poncho. I will get to that.”

Poncho let out a loud mwa of irritation. Abuelo Urcu cleared his throat again and gestured for a few Guards to push the unruly llama juvenile back into the Herd. Now without any further distractions, he continued his speech in a pompous and loud voice.

“As I was saying, and as Poncho here was so kind to point out, the Herd has been having a few troubles here. The Alpaca Mountains may no longer be able to sustain such a large population. Unfortunately. And that means that a few of us will have to relocate.”

There were mwas of fear and anger as many of the llamas before him riled up in distress. He waved a reassuring cloven hoof at the crowd, and the murmuring began to die down.

“Now. Yes, Guards have died protecting us. And crias, our babies, have died because of manticores. Let us remember Bola, Guanco, Sombrero, Pérdida, and Mafata. Those Guards who gave their lives to save us from harm. Let us remember Burro, Pampa, and Chucho. Their innocent souls shall live evermore with us, in our hearts.”

Abuelo Urcu’s special talent at giving speeches told him to pause here for dramatic effect. He allowed his smile to grow slack into a somber grimace. From somewhere in the Herd, a few lone dams began to sob uncontrollably. Abuelo Urcu knew that those cries were from the mothers whose younglings had been eaten by the beasts of the Mountains. Several mothers who still had their little crias comforted the sobbing females, hushing them. Once again Abuelo Urcu patiently continued on with his speech.

“I do know this is because there are simply too many of us to protect. So we have but a few options.”

He cleared his throat again and studied his Herd. They weren’t going to like this.

“One, we stop breeding. For a while.”

Several couples muttered in disapproval. They did not want to halt reproduction. They wanted big families. Lots of little crias playing and pronking about.

“Two, we keep breeding, but we peacefully provide the manticores with… sacrifices of sorts.”

Many llamas began to bray.

“Now now! You know that is what we used to do, long ago. Sacrifice our weak to the predators who threaten us. But no fear, out third option is to have the Herd split, and send those who wish it to live among the ponies.”

Now the murmuring was less aggravated and a little bit hopeful. The Herd had maintained a steady relationship with the pony trading post of Macho Pacachu. The ponies would trade them metals and gems for their wool and for the rare berries and wildflower delicacies they foraged from the thick woods of the mountains. Many had always imagined abandoning the harsh nomadic lifestyle of their ancestors and settling down to open businesses at the trading post and in Appleloosa and the far off Canterlot.

“So. Show of hooves. Who votes to halt breeding?”

Only one or two geldings raised their hooves. It made sense. Geldings were males who had gone sterile and couldn’t mate. They were generally well-known for the jealousy they had for the studs and dams who could have crias.

“Who votes to reinstate sacrifices?”

No llamas raised their hooves. Understandable.

“Who votes to relocate select few?”

Nearly every llama besides the two or three geldings raised their hooves high, even the crias who just barely understood what actions they were voting for. Abuelo Urcu smiled at his beloved Herd. At the group who had endured blizzards, avalanches, manticore raids, herd clashes, and even more.

“Very well. Now who here offers themselves to go out. To explore what Equestria and the world has to offer?”

No llamas stepped forward. Abuelo Urcu hoped he wouldn’t be left with selecting those he would kick out of the Herd. Fortunately, the gods and his ancestors were rewarding his excellent leadership. A single juvenile stepped forward, plucking absentmindedly at his oopoowacha. Poncho.

“Poncho? You agree to led a group into the pony lands? To bring the llamas under your care into the safety of ponykind?”

Poncho nodded eagerly.

“Will you come here, to stand by me?”

Poncho eagerly clambered up the Speech Rock where Abuelo Urcu stood. Abuelo Urcu looked down at the younger stallion and regarded him before returning his attention once again to the crowd before them.

“Now, who wishes to join sir Poncho here?”

Many llamas shuffled their hooves nervously, avoiding the gaze of Poncho and Abuelo Urcu. Finally, a few llamas walked up and stood boldly before Speech Rock.

Churro, a grandson of Abuelo Urcu and one of the Herd’s bakers who specialized in pastries, especially those of his namesake. The stallion was unfortunately born a gelding. However, Churro was perfectly happy as a gelding. The gelding with the creamy wool and white undercoat would much rather spend his time chasing ingredients than chasing dams.

Cha Cha and Macarena, a dancing pair of twin dams with fluffy teal wool and pink undercoats. They had always spoken to any llama who would listen that they wanted to go out into the world. To show the ponies of Equestria the traditional dances of the Llama Herds.

Vicuña, the cloaked black shaman-in-training with a gray undercoat, decided to go. He was the only one experienced in magic, divination, and medicine. Without a shaman, the travellers could end up getting hurt and being unable to heal each other.

Mama, an elderly dam who is known for being the grandmother of many of the llamas of the Herd would go voluntarily. She was nearly as blind as a vampire fruit bat and hard of hearing. She walked with a hobble, her fluffy white wool making her look more like a tall wrinkled sheep than a llama elder.

Finally, Pepe Forchan, the forest green llama stud with the light green undercoat stepped forward. He was a Packer, and was the most adjusted to pony society. Frequently the odd llama would randomly spout nonsense about ‘dank memes’ and ‘killstreaks’. Every llama in the Herd avoided Pepe whenever possible, and Abuelo Urcu could hear a collective sigh from the milling families as the green stud took his place beside Poncho. Abuelo Urcu raised an eyebrow at the others.

“Any more?”

No more llamas stepped forward. Abuelo Urcu counted those who had offered to leave. Seven. Out of the sixty llamas who were in his Herd.

“Please, we need at least three more to join Poncho and his new herd.”

Another llama stepped forward. A pink Woolie named Bonita joined the dancer twins. Her pale undercoat was even paler as she let out soft mwas of fear. Bonita had been set to be bred for her wool despite her oppositions. No wonder she wanted to leave. Forced breeding was something that Abuelo Urcu hated to do, but her wool was of a quality and shade that would sell for many bits.

A second llama, a young gelding named Rico stumbled forward. He was one of the crias who had been born knock-kneed. The poor youngling hobbled along, his rear legs splayed awkwardly. Abuelo Urcu sent a prayer to the gods that Rico would find some help in the miracle of pony medicine. Herbs and mushrooms were useful, but they couldn’t treat a birth defect.

Finally, a bulky Guard named Bronco, the son of Guanco, one of the Guards who died in the manticore attack, joined the group. The new Herd had a population of ten. It was small, yes, but Abuelo Urcu remembered when he had first led his own Herd. His Herd had been only a small picking of four or five llamas. Poncho was lucky to have ten. Even if one was elderly. And another crippled. And another insane.

Then again, maybe Poncho wasn’t so lucky.

Poncho surveyed his small herd and nodded in approval. Abuelo Urcu couldn’t help but smile. The young musician would make an excellent leader. Abuelo Urcu ordered them to be supplied with enough rations to get them to the trading post, and with enough bits to support them all the way to Appleloosa.

The Packer, Pepe, was laden with all sorts of food and drink. Empanadas, alfalfa, maize, berries, tubers, peppers, various fruits, and the famed llama concoction known only as ‘dulce de leche’. Churro the baker had packed up the majority of his ingredients: rice and wheat flours, sugar, cacao beans, cinnamon bark, and dried fruits. The majority of their foods were raw and dried, besides the vegetable empanadas. It should last them quite a few weeks. Then Churro’s baking and Poncho’s music would let them earn enough bits to kickstart their life in the North.

“Well,” Bonita said with a whimper, “I guess this is it.”

“We’re gonna get so many killstreaks. Let’s three-sixty no scope killcam this shizz and get all of those MLG Pro awards.” Pepe rambled excitedly. Abuelo Urcu took that as an exclamation of hope.

“Don’t worry, guys. We’ll be fine.” Poncho assured them.

And with an air of satisfaction, the bold young (and not-so-young) llamas bid their families goodbye. Then together, as a Herd, the ten llamas began to descend the mountain trail towards the pony trading outpost of Fort Fresh Hooves.

To a new life in a world very much unlike their own.

Fort Fresh Hooves was a collection of log cabins surrounding a cable car station leading down the mountain.

Poncho had been to Fort Fresh Hooves before, long ago in the earlier days of his youth. Back then, he had thought the cabins were just giant wooden monsters. He had never truly understood the concept of houses. Llamas were nomadic. They travelled. They didn’t need any sort of building or construction for warmth or protection. The herds protected themselves with Guard llamas and their thick wool protected them from the elements. Ponies had magic and Guards, but not wool.

That was one of the many differences the younger Poncho had noticed during his trip to Fort Fresh Hooves. He had also noticed that llamas were more gaunt than ponies. Ponies tended to be more colorful, and didn’t have cloven hooves. Ponies also had various mane styles and strange pictures on their flanks that they called ‘cutie marks’. Llama Guards occasionally partook in the tradition of tattoo artwork, but the ink was not as smooth and flawless as the marks on the ponies.

Only later would Poncho learn that these ‘cutie marks’ practically defined the ponies they belonged to. That those marks represented their place in society. At first, Poncho had thought that the idea was horrible, that cutie marks were nothing more than bindings for a lifetime of slavery. And when he was told that younglings; these ‘fillies’ and ‘colts’, actually looked forward to their life of enslavement, he was appalled.

But now that he was older, he knew better. Ponies got their cutie marks once they found something they loved to do. But that didn’t mean they could only do that one thing for as long as they lived. Poncho had met a pegasus fur-trapper hanging around Fort Fresh Hooves who was talented at trapping. Even though his cutie mark was that of a bear trap, the fur-trapper also had the knack for playing the ‘mjiba’, as he called it. It was from that kindly stallion that Poncho had obtained his oopoochawa.

As his small Herd approached the Fort, Poncho reminisced about those days long past. That fateful meeting with the pony fur-trapper had been countless moons ago. It was very likely that the stallion had moved on to a new part of the Alpaca Mountain Range. As they approached, a small Earth pony mare wearing a thick llama wool coat and hat sauntered up to greet them.

“Howdy! Ya here ta do a bit a tradin’?” She bubbled, pointing at the largest cabin, the market. Poncho shook his great neck in a resound ‘no’. Her giggly smile faltered somewhat.

“No, we’re here to take the cable car. What would the prices be, miss?” Poncho asked, as he removed the bag of bits from Pepe’s saddlepack. He hoped they wouldn’t be too expensive.

“Oh! Uh… I don’t sell tickets. Y'all be lookin’ for the small cabin with the yellow ‘tickets’ sign. An’ I think the prices are set ta three bits a po- er… llama.” She said, pointing a hoof in the direction of the cable car tower. The llamas thanked her and were about to go about on their way when she stopped them again. “So wait… yer leavin’ tha mountain?!”

Poncho nodded, clicking the bag of bits he carried in his cloven hoof.

“B-Bu-but… I didn’ know llamas coul’ even do that! Leavin’ tha mountain!”

“And why is that, missy?” Mama piped up, clearly getting aggravated. The young mare blushed at the elderly dam and began to stutter.

“Well… ma’am… if I can call ya ma’am… I-It’s jus’ I’ve never seen or heard of a llama going down the mountain! Yer mountain folk, aintcha?” She asked, looking from Poncho to Mama incredulously. Behind them the other members of the Herd milled about in boredom. Pepe was already chatting away with his nonsense at the dancer twins, who both listened with half-interest.

“Yes. But there are other mountains besides the Alpaca Range, correct?” Poncho inquired. He sounded so bold and daring when he asked her this, but he was honestly curious. His knowledge of geography was limited only to the few mountains of the Range that he had explored. The pony nodded, turning almost as pale as Bonita.

“Well now, miss. Thank you for your assistance. Pepe, Cha Cha, Macarena,” the said llamas snapped to attention and bounded over, “let’s go. We’re buying some tickets.”

And with that, they left the pony mare to stand in the snow as she wondered what in Equestria she had just learned. The mare shook her head and brought her thoughts down back from lala land. Maybe she had been hearing things. Llamas leaving the mountains? Ridiculous. Llamas loved the mountains. There’s no way any would be foolish enough to take the cable car down the mountain and just gallop away.

Just as she turned to go back to her cabin, she saw the herd of llamas exit the ticket booth. They were clutching yellow tickets in their mouths and sending muffled thank yous to the ticketmaster. Her eyes bugged as she watched a sleek new cable car slide along the wires and coming to a stop before the herd. They bugged even more when she saw them clamber aboard, putting their tickets into the small slot beside the door. Then the door sealed and the cable car kicked back up to a start and trundled its way down its cables to the outpost far below.

Those were some foolish llamas.

Author's Note

So yeah. Depending on the support this story gets depends on whether or not I actually get deep into it. I have a feeling it'll be a well-liked story, though. To me the charm of adding a new species to the list of pre-existing ones in Equestria and the antics of those non-ponies in an entirely pony environment. A lot of the inspiration for the Llama culture comes from a Peruvian-American friend of mine, who shares his traditions and food with me, a Swedish-American. But a lot of the story of what is to come will be taken from Hispanic American heritage and history, even if I myself am not Hispanic American.

Also prepare for tacos.

Lots and lots of tacos.

SkelePone

Chapter Two: Strange Creatures

Author's Note

Please point out any spelling or grammar errors. Also, feel free to ask any questions about this chapter, because this chapter could definitely use some 'fluffing up.'

Chapter Two: Strange Creatures

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER TWO: STRANGE CREATURES

by SkelePone

The elderly unicorn ticketmaster stallion who ran the adjacent cable car station at the mountains’ foothills had never before seen something so peculiar in his almost fifty years of working for the cable car company.

As the blue, slick new cable car slide noisily down the wires and rested to a stop at the station, the elderly stallion prepared to say his well-rehearsed and falsely cheery lines: ‘Thank you for using Steampunk Cable Cars. Please come again!’ That basically half of his job, the rest being to sell tickets to pony tourists.

Instead all he could muster was a stuttery ‘buh buh buh buh’ as he watched not one or two, but ten llamas pile out of the sleek machine and touch cloven hooves on the wooden floors of the small station. The llama who he assumed to be their leader, a reddish-brownish male with some sort of weird tribal instrument around his neck, blinked several times before laying icy blue eyes upon the ticketmaster. The llama nodded his long neck, bowing his head in a gesture of respect towards the elderly stallion. Unsure of what else to do, the stallion returned the gesture and the llamas left the building together.

As soon as the last of the llamas left the premises, the elderly stallion quickly rubbed his eyes with his hooves, blinked, and leaned across the counter to gape out the glass door at the llamas who had begun to trot down the dirt road towards Appleloosa.

The dirt road was an old one. It was used as one of the only routes from the Alpaca Mountains to the Earth pony town of Appleloosa. The dirt road cut straight through the Appleloosan Desert, one of the hottest and driest wastelands on this side of Equestria.

Poncho led his small Herd down that said dirt road, across a desert that he had not been fully prepared for. Growing up in the mountains, he was fully aware of the desert and plains surrounding them. But what he hadn’t been truly expecting was the incredible heat.

Llamas are built for the cold and humid, for the high altitudes of the mountains. Not for the hot and dry climate of the desert. Within minutes of touching hooves on the sandy ground, the majority of them were already panting. Poncho knew they had limited water in the wineskins that Pepe carried on his back. If it was going to be this hot, they would run out of water before they even got halfway to Appleloosa.

No wonder the llamas never left the mountains. It was almost physically impossible for them to do so.

The ten ploughed on through the overwhelming heat.

Hours later, Mama was the first llama to drop off.

They all stopped in surprise as Macarena (or maybe it was Cha Cha, it was hard to tell) let out a bray of terror. They crowded around the fallen old llama. She was still alive, fortunately. But she had lost consciousness in the excessive heat and from outrageous exhaustion. Poncho and Vicuña placed her gently on Pepe’s back. The Packer fortunately had a very thin coat of wool, so he had barely even broken a sweat. Unlike the others, who had much thicker coats. They were the unlucky ones.

Rico was the next llama to faint.

Poncho was surprised by the little one’s strength. He had been expecting Rico to pass out much sooner than the others. But the little one’s strength hadn’t been enough to keep the limping yearling walking. Vicuña and Poncho placed the crippled cria next to the fainted elder. Pepe Fouchan was now showing some sign of a struggle. He was incredibly strong, sure. But no llama was strong enough to power on through a scorching hot desert carrying three times their weight in equipment and food as well as a pair of llamas who were dead to the world.

Macarena and Cha Cha dropped to the ground almost half an hour later. They had been helping each other, keeping the other from collapsing. But they couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

When Pepe collapsed to the ground, Poncho knew they were hopeless. The brute was even more delirious than he usually was, blubbering about asking dams to ‘send noodz’ and being a ‘call of doots sniper pro’. Without their Packer, they had no way to carry their supplies and the ill. Poncho felt hopelessness consume him. He also felt incredible shame.

They had only been away from the rest of the Herd for a few hours and he was already failing as a leader. Abuelo Urcu would be so disappointed in them. Poncho felt like dropping to the ground and crying like a cria as Bonita too fell to the ground. There was only Churro, Vicuña, Bronco, and Poncho left. And there was no way that they would be getting any further through this desert any time soon.

Of course, as Poncho opened his dry mouth to order Bronco to try carry the fallen, the Guard crashed into the sand and let out a groan. He was followed almost immediately by the baker, Churro.

“We are doomed.” Vicuña mumbled to Poncho. They were the only ones still standing. Or rather standing up, they had both thrown themselves hopelessly onto the sand. Poncho wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over his fallen comrades. Maybe the darkened shaman was right.

“We have to find help…” Poncho rasped. Vicuña nodded slowly, and shakily got back up on his cloven hooves. As soon as Vicuña got up, however, he crashed once more to the ground.

“Vicuña… Can’t… You do something… About… This… Heat?” Poncho wheezed.

Vicuña nodded again, no longer able to speak, and dug a hoof through the pouch at his side, moving away his dark cloak to reveal an oddly colored coat of blue wool. He removed his cloven hoof, now coated in a gritty blue paste. He rubbed some across his nose clumsily, and then did so with Poncho.

As soon as the mysterious paste touched Poncho’s muzzle, he felt a wave of cold wash over him. He actually shuddered from the suddenly freezing temperatures. He was chilly… in a desert. Vicuña must had given him some sort of cooling cream.

Vicuña stumbled over, also shaking, to rub some paste across the unconscious llamas’ noses. They all fluttered open their eyes, but they were so weak with the heat exhaustion to even get up again. They either laid upon their side or in a semi-comfortable kush position unique to the llamas. Poncho knew for a fact that they were in no condition to continue their journey for a good long while.

Poncho knew that they would need plenty of rest to continue on to Appleloosa.

“We can put up camp here. Tomorrow, we’ll get to Appleloosa.”

The Herd let out sighs of relief and mwas of exhaustion as they dug around through the bags on Pepe’s sides. They folded out patterned blankets to quickly lay upon in various states of being half-dead and delirious.

Behind them, the sun began to set. It cast a rainbow of oranges, violets, reds, and navy blues as Poncho took the oopoochawa dangling from his neck off and placed his cloven hooves on the box that lie in the sand, plucking the metal keys. Beautiful tinkling music spiraled across the dusk sky and across them as Poncho sang a traditional lullaby to his small herd.

“Los pollitos dicen
Pio, pio, pio
Cuando tienen hambre
Cuando tienen frio
La gallina busca
El maiz y el trigo
Les da la comida
Y les presta abrigo
Bajo sus dos alas
Acurrucaditos
Hasta el otro dia
Duerman los pollitos

La gallina dice
Cloc, cloc, cloc
Cuando canta el gallo
Cuando sale el sol

Bajo sus dos alas
Acurrucaditos
Hasta el otro dia
Duermen los pollitos
La gallina dice
Clock, clock, clock
Cuando canta el gallo
Cuando sale el sol.”

Poncho smiled as the llamas snored. He gazed up at the large full moon. From the distance he could hear wolves and Diamond Dogs baying to the ivory orb as it hung so gallantly from the sky. He was startled from his stargazing by a tugging on his wool. It was little Rico.

“Poncho… Can you sing again? I can’t sleep...”

Poncho smiled down at the youngling. Rico sat on his haunches and beamed up at the leader with big brown pleading eyes. The cria was far too sweet to just ignore his plea.

“Yes, Rico. Go lay down, now.”

Rico hobbled over to his blanket in the sand and plopped down, looking to Poncho expectantly. Poncho wasn’t known for keeping an audience waiting. He began to sing again, his words and notes echoing across the dunes as a lone Timber Wolf howled in the distance.

A new day called for a new strategy.

Poncho had noticed that many of the dunes cast small shadows over the road. So he conjured up the brilliant plan to rest for a few moments under these shadows. It slowed them down, yes; but at least none of the Herd would be fainting or maybe even worse, dying of heat stroke.

Their water supply was entirely gone. They had drunken all of their water and now the empty wineskins slapped against their flanks as they walked, reminding them that the flasks were as empty as can be. Poncho knew that if they didn’t reach Appleloosa by noonday, they could consider themselves dead.

Suddenly from the distance, they could see a cloud of dust approaching them from the direction of Appleloosa. As the mystery object grew nearer and nearer, Poncho could see that it was a pony-made wagon, quickly pulled by several stallions. In the open ornate green wagon was a single pony. Poncho could see it was a pretty Earth pony mare with a tall red mane styled pompously, a mare that had a beauty mark on her cheek. As the wagon with the pretty pony neared them, it came to a sudden halt beside the llamas. The cloud of dust that had formed washed over the llamas, coating them in sand.

“Well lookee here, boys! It’s some llamas! Dear me, what are you poor things doing off of the mountain!? And in the middle of the desert?” She cried. A stallion nickered.

“Well, Miss Jubilee, I think they fancied a visit to Appleloosa.”

“What?! They plan on getting all the way to Appleloosa by hoof?”

They were acting like the llamas couldn’t speak, by they way they talked about them directly within earshot. Poncho let out an aggravated cough, directing their attention to the russet leader llama. He frowned slightly as they blushed in embarrassment. Ponies were strange creatures. Rude creatures, yes. But strange all the same.

“We need help. We do need to get to the town of Appleloosa, yes. But we can barely make it across the desert with our thick wool heating us up so much. Would you be so kind, ma’am, as to give me and my Herd a quick ride back to the town? We would be ever so grateful.” Poncho inquired politely. Cherry Jubilee looked thoughtful for a moment, pondering.

“Well, I was plannin’ on visitin’ the Fresh Hooves Market today. But I guess your safety is far more important than buying a few silly little mink furs. Eh, I never really liked ‘em anyways. Sure! Come on up, everypony - er… Everyllama! Here, bring up the little one first. Eeyup, there we go, darlin’.”

Pepe and Bronco lifted up Rico, who sat beside Cherry. The little llama looked up at the pony with wide, curious eyes. Poncho knew that this must have been the youngling’s first time encountering a pony of any kind. Vicuña, Bronco, Churro and the others eagerly piled in. The carriage creaked some, but it supported their weight.

“Well now,” Cherry Jubilee said merrily as they trundled off in the opposite direction; towards Appleloosa, not away from, “tell me, Mister Llama. How does a small group of… one two three four five six seven eight nine… oh ten, ten llamas end up stranded in the middle of the Appleloosan Desert? I thought your kind never left the mountains.”

“Please, ma’am. Call me Poncho.”

“In that case, Poncho, call me Cherry. Cherry Jubilee.”

Poncho smiled at her witty comment.

“Well then, Cherry. We were told by our Herd to leave the mountains. We are looking for a better life. Not just for us, but for all llamas who wish to leave the mountains. Abuelo Urcuchillay, our leader, told us to come down here and seek out a better way of living, among you ponies. We also left because our Herd had gotten too big. Manticores and other horrible monsters were eating our crias.”

“Excuse me,” Cherry interrupted as the carriage thundered on, “and excuse my ignorance, but what exactly is a cria?”

“A cria is what we call our younglings, what you would call your ‘foals’.”

Cherry Jubilee gasped and raised a hoof to her mouth dramatically. She looked to Poncho with wide eyes of horror. Poncho did not understand her reaction. Such was the way of life. Predators needed food. Llamas were prey. If a predator ate a cria, the Herd could birth ten more to replace the one in a heartbeat.

“Manticores are eating your foals?!” She almost shrieked. A few driver stallions actually looked back in alarm at their passengers.

“I know that feel, bro,” Pepe interjected randomly. Both the llama and the mare ignored him and continued as if he had never spoken. Poncho specifically did not feel like including the loony llama in the conversation.

“They have been, for generations. It’s just the way of life. You live or die.” Vicuña explained, joining the conversation (who Poncho would gladly prefer to join, other than Pepe), “Eat or be eaten, such is the way of the llamas.” Poncho nodded in thanks at the shaman. With but a few words the cloaked llama had explained almost everything about Llama culture. Quite impressive.

“That’s terrible!”

“To a pony maybe,” Vicuña muttered. Poncho wondered if Vicuña have a problem with ponies. He knew that Mama didn’t like ponies, by the way she hacked up and spat over the side of the wagon whenever Cherry Jubilee looked at her. Llamas were infamous for their ability to spit, especially at things they didn’t like.

“It’s a way of life we have come to accept. Llamas get eaten. Llamas go on. We understand how it is horrifying to a pony. You ponies live in safety in your buildings and you use much powerful magic. Llamas are nomads. We travel wherever, whenever we need to restock our supply of food. And llama magic is not quite what pony magic is…” Poncho said, eyeing Mama as she spat once more, “Vicuña, you may wish to explain this.” The shaman nodded his hooded head and spoke to Cherry.

“Llama magic is mostly divination and blessings. We speak with the spirits of nature. We use the magical boosts from sacrifices to aid us in our working of the spirits’ magic.” Cherry Jubilee’s eyes bugged out in repulsion.

“S-S-S-Sacrifices?! You make sacrifices?! I hope these are vegetables you’re sacrificing!”

Vicuña shook his head.

“You sacrifice ANIMALS?!” Cherry was incredulous. She looked like she was about to faint.

“You misunderstand us,” Vicuña said, attempting to calm the mare, “we do not sacrifice other llamas. We have not done that for many generations. Not since your Alicorn Princesses showed the shaman Magai that sacrificing pigs and chickens was just as effective as using a llama. It is now taboo to sacrifice any animal that has the ability to speak.”

“That’s still awful…” Cherry mumbled, “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that llamas eat ponies.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Poncho scolded, “llamas do not eat meat, just like ponies. We are not monsters.”

After that, the rest their ride went on in silence, other than the creaking of the axles and the grunting of the stallions pulling the wagon. Cherry Jubilee seemed to be somewhat afraid of Vicuña and Poncho now, but she still found Rico to be endearing. The two talked in hushed whispers as they grew close to the pony town, which Poncho could see clearly in the distance.

When they finally reached Appleloosa, Cherry eagerly ushered them off of her carriage and she snapped at the stallion’s reins. They let out nickers of aggression but galloped off at full speed, leaving the llama herd behind in a cloud of dust. As the others started to chatter excitedly, Poncho watched sadly as Cherry’s wagon disappeared into the distance.

Ponies were strange creatures.

Very strange creatures indeed.

Chapter Three: Where O Where

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter Four: Poncho & The House

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER FOUR: PONCHO & THE HOUSE

by SkelePone

The smile on the realtor pony’s face was blindingly white.

Poncho knew for a fact that the smile had to be fake, but he wondered why it had to be so bright. So white. And clean. The smile was just so… smiley. But Poncho did not voice his negative opinions on the realtor’s toothy grin as she took him on the tour of what must have been the millionth house they had visited that sunny afternoon.

Yes, a house.

It is a common fact that all llamas are nomadic by nature, for they have never had any actual need to house themselves. They had protective Guard Llamas like Bronco and thick coats of wool to protect themselves. They did not properly settle down, unless they desired to partake in a wedding or a meeting with another herd. Even then, the settling would last only for a week or so before the herds departed once more on their constant journey across the Alpaca Mountain Range.

Such was the way of a llama's life. Keep moving, and keep looking for a better place.

Which was almost exactly what Poncho was doing right now.

Poncho’s little herd had been spending several days lounging about Twilight Sparkle’s castle, occasionally going out to meet the many kindly (and occasionally not-so-kindly) residents of Ponyville, Princess Twilight had been very lenient with the llama herd on the matter of them staying with her, but now she insisted that the llamas buy their own dwelling. The idea was rather silly to Poncho. The idea of llamas living in a house like they were ponies? It really was rather ridiculous. He did not seek out an argument with the kindly Princess; however the task of finding a house that Poncho liked proved difficult, to say in the least.

At least the other members of his herd had gone with the Princess’ friends to integrate themselves into the Ponyville society, something that Poncho was fairly thankful for. He would not be able to concentrate on finding a home for his herd if they were there occupying every moment of his thoughts.

Even now, as he trotted from house to house with the realtor mare, he felt a small little voice in the back of his head nag to him about the safety of his herd. What is any of them were injured while he was gone? What if one of them got lost? Strayed too far from the village and, Poncho prayed to the llama gods and goddesses for it not to be reality, entered that horrible dark forest that the Princess had warned them about?

Poncho shook the silly worryings from his head, his banana-shaped ears flapping about.

He didn’t have time to worry about problems that his herd would never encounter while under his charge. For now, the only thing he should be worrying about was how he had to find the perfect house for them to stay in. One large enough to house them all comfortably without any of them growing wearing of those around them. One that was not too expensive, for the Princess of Friendship had only lent them but a few large sacks of golden bits from the Royal Treasury. One that was sturdy enough to withstand the havoc that could be caused by a house full of llamas. There were millions of possibilities and thousands of little issues Poncho felt he had to take into account. This couldn't be just any house.

It had to be a house for his family.

He started to finally pay attention to the tours at a small, simple brick house. A friendly mute white unicorn mare wearing headphones and a gray elegant mare, who was practicing viola, were polite neighbors that Poncho found he could tolerate somewhat. But that was one of the only good things about the house. The bad aspects of it were very apparent, however. It was small. Not enough room to hold ten llamas comfortably. Especially when one of them was a growing cria. They would want a much bigger home.

“Next,” Poncho grumbled, repeating his own thoughts, “we will need a bigger home.”

As they pulled away from the brick house, Poncho was suddenly frightened by a deep bassy sound that resembled music. The music, unlike any other that Poncho had ever heard before (he actually thought it was the bellows of a dying manticore at first), was that little miracle of electronic music that ponies called 'dubstep'. The bassy wubs pouring out of the neighbors’ house and thundering across the lawn were punctuated by a high-pitched shrieking that rather sounded like the prim and proper gray mare they had met.

“VINYL! TURN THAT BLASTED MUSIC DOWN! NOW!”

Poncho sure was glad he hadn’t chosen that house.

The next house that the unicorn realtor showed Poncho was a beautiful white mansion sitting upon a tall grassy hill. First of all, the price tag was outrageous. Princess Twilight had loaned the llamas several sacks of bits but they had nowhere near enough to purchase such an extravagant and high-class building. Poncho already felt the desire to leave as soon as he stepped his cloven hooves upon the marbled wood floors.

“Next house. We do not have anywhere near enough to pay for this.”

“Very well! Don’t worry, Mister Llama! I’m sure you will absolutely adore this next house!”

“Over my dead body.” Poncho grouched.

The next house she showed him was a cottage, on the outskirts of Ponyville. It was located directly upon a clover meadow, the leafy plants sprouting up in bright yellow flowers all over the place. The cottage itself was beautiful, and it’s wooden exterior reminded him somewhat of the cabins at Fort Fresh Hooves. Poncho thought for several moments about the property. It was perfect. Too perfect…

“What’s the catch?” Poncho asked, squinting at the realtor mare with distrust. She kept right on smiling.

“No catch! What you see is what you get! Furniture included!” She bubbled in a falsely cheery voice. Poncho grimaced and studied the plush couch. He sat carefully in it, observing the other furnishings of the sitting room. A lamp. A chair. A small table in the center of the room. He looked up to study the small, simple chandelier. It didn’t so much as flicker. Too perfect…

As they trotted from room to room, Poncho struggled to find something, anything wrong with the cottage.

Nothing.

The bathroom gleamed and shone with a clean porcelain throne in the center of it all. A large bathtub was sealed into the corner, large enough to be a perfect fit for a llama.

It was perfect. Ridiculously perfect. Poncho considered shaking it off and saying it was too perfect, and they needed a less perfect house. But he couldn’t. The house was just so perfectly perfect that he couldn’t bare to just let it sit here unowned.

“How many bits again?” Poncho mumbled to the realtor. She beamed even more widely.

“Asking price is five hundred bits!”

“Five hundred?!”

“That’s what I said! Five hundred bits.”

Poncho took one final sweep of the entire house, followed eagerly by the bubbly realtor pony. Poncho made sure to study, sniff, trot upon, and question about every nook and cranny of the cottage. He had to find some sort of flaw somewhere. Anywhere! But there was none.

“No, there’s no bats in the attic, sir!” “No, the roof’s tiles won’t leak in a thunderstorm, sir!” “Yes, if you wanted to keep a pet leopard in the basement, the concrete wouldn’t get clawed up, sir!”

The realtor mare seemed unfazed by Poncho’s intense interview. The russet llama only wanted what was best for his herd. And even though he felt that his herd would be much better off remaining as nomads, he knew in his heart that they could not be fully integrated into Ponyville society without properly settling themselves into a home. The cottage, as perfect as it was, was going to have to do.

“Very well,” Poncho grunted, “consider it sold.”

The realtor’s happy and bubbly demeanor immediately vanished, replaced by an exhausted and grouchy persona.

“Good. We’ll have paperwork to do back at headquarters. That’ll be twenty bits down payment and then you pay the rest once we get to the office just outside Ponyville Town Hall.” Poncho dug a cloven hoof around the pack on his back and pulled out a small jingling burlap sack of bits. He tossed it to the realtor, who scooped it up and carefully counted out every gold coin with a dragon-like greed burning in her eyes. Her face went slack again as she nodded in approval at the llama.

Satisfied with her payment, the realtor pony turned around and kicked into a trot that took her out the front door, leaving Poncho alone inside.

He had just bought a house.

Author's Note

Once again, please point out any spelling or grammatical errors you happen to see as you read. Feel free to ask any questions! Also, I am very glad with the results of the strawpoll, so here's another one!

LINK: CHAPTER FIVE VOTING HERE!

Chapter Five: Churro's Churros

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER FIVE: CHURRO’S CHURROS

by SkelePone

Churro wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Ponyville, the town inhabited by other species than ponies.

It seemed rather… isolated. He had grown up around hundreds of other llamas, and even among griffons and the occasional pony. And those hundreds of other llamas had all encouraged and complimented his cooking and his baking. But now he was no longer with the other llamas. He was among ponies.

What did ponies like to eat?

What if traditional llama pastries and foods made the ponies sick?

What if he couldn’t make enough bits to help support his new herd?

These questions and countless more swirled through Churro’s dazed head as he trotted his way down the empty street to the bakery around the corner. ‘Sugarcube Corner’ it was called.

Apparently the bakery’s owners were hiring. He had seen an advertisement in the newspaper the previous day. (Newspapers were incredible things that the Princess had shown the llama family, as well as books; llamas rarely kept literature, their only form of writing was via scrolls, so the idea that ponies and llamas could write down their desires and have them met was incredible). The ad had called for anypony that had any sort of previous experience with baking and confectionery. Seeing how he had fed up to five hundred llamas from a single meal, Churro was pretty confident that was beyond qualified for the occupation.

When Churro got to the building, he found that it reminded him somewhat of a gingerbread house. As he marvelled at the inedible but nonetheless delectable-looking decorations, he walked up and bumped his large nose into the front door. He was disappointed to see the sign on the door that read “CLOSED.” Churro let out a sigh of aggravation. The Cakes had told him yesterday that he was to have the job interview at noon, and now hey don’t even make an appearance.

Just as he turned around with a huff and bounded down the stairs, he heard the door creak open slowly and ominously behind him. He looked over his shoulder into the dark door frame. The street was suddenly filled with a hushed silence as if reality itself was holding its breath, preparing for the worst.

Suddenly, a vividly pink Earth pony mare leapt out from the darkness with a squeal. The noise she made and the color of her coat had confused Churro at first; he had thought that the Cakes kept a pet pig, and that it had just gone loose. Instead of a pig, Churro was surprised to find himself being encircled by an incredibly hyperactive mare.

“Oooooo! Are you a llama? I’ve never seen a llama up close before! I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name? OOOOO! I know! I know! Your name is Churro, right? The Cakes told me that you’d be here for an interview!” She squeed, wrapping Churro suddenly in a very tight hug before returning once more to circling him, “They had to go out and pick up their babies from day care. But they said that I could interview you if you got here before they came back! So you wanna go inside and answer some questiony questions about questions?”

As the Earth pony babbled on and on, she encircled the llama continuously, getting closer. And closer. And now her poofy tail was brushing up against Churro’s curly cinnamon-colored wool. Churro felt very uncomfortable. It was almost like she was a timberwolf, about to pounce on her prey and rip it to shreds.

And he was the prey.

“U-U-Uhm… Yes. I am Churro. Yes, I am here to have my job inter-”

“GRRRRREAT! Let’s go inside then, Mister Fluffy!” She giggled. Churro grumbled to himself as she grabbed his cloven hoof and dragged him inside. He wasn’t that fluffy… He was just big-boned.

She slammed the door behind them and directed Churro to a large, plushy couch. He sat down cautiously, ready to use his fighting teeth. Then he remembered with a slight dread that he had his six curved fangs removed when he was a teenager.

As Churro was wondering if he could use his baker’s cap as a weapon, Pinkie Pie turned once more to him, dramatically.

“Mister Fluffy, exactly how many kinds of pastries can you bake and how many candies can you make?”

Churro opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally remembered how to talk.

“Well… Uh… Let’s see… Cake. Cupcakes, of course. Flan. Pudding. I can churn ice cream. I can make churros-”

“Wait.” Pinkie Pie said, her eyes beginning to water. Churro felt alarmed. Had he said something wrong?

“What’s wrong?” He asked timidly, eyeing the mare with a reborn caution.

“Your name is Churro…”

“Yes?”

“And you know how to make… Churros?”

Churro looked scandalous. He already knew where she was going with this, and he was going to do anything in his slightly overweight baking llama power to prevent it. But it was inevitable.

“Um… Yes. I do but-”

“So we could call them,” Pinkie Pie choked, “CHURRO’S CHURROS!” Churro sighed out loud and put a cloven hoof to his pudgy face.

Dear god Ekkeko, Churro prayed to the llama god of baking as he hid his face behind his fore-hooves, let this all be a horrible, terrible, awful dream.

His prayers when unanswered as the pink mare continued to roll about on the floor, snorting and giggling and saying ‘Churro’s Churros’ over and over again. Churro patiently waited for Pinkie Pie to collect herself. Minute after minute passed, and Pinkie Pie was still pounding on the floor and howling with laughter. First she makes a slight about his fluffiness (hey, chefs tended to be a little fat) and now she was laughing at his name. Churro began to regret his decision to apply for this job.

Thankfully, just as Churro was about to get up and announce the revoking of his application, a tall, gangly Earth pony stallion and a short, chubby Earth pony mare walked in. The yellowish stallion wore a sling of sorts where Churro could see a pair of baby foals, one pegasus and one unicorn. The Cakes had arrived.

Mrs. Cake took one look at the grumpy cinnamon llama and at the cackling pink mare and nodded in understanding. Assuming Churro got the job, or still wanted it, this was about as much of Pinkie Pie he would have to tolerate. She actually had to live with her.

“Pinkie,” the chubby mare called in a candy-sweet voice, “we’re home now with the wins. We’ll take over the interview from here.” Pinkie Pie nodded, practically crying with laughter. The pink mare staggered across the room and out the door. As soon as she left, Mr. Cake smiled apologetically at Churro.

“We’re awfully sorry about that. Pinkie Pie is just a bit… You know… Pinkie Pie.”

Churro sniffled with disdain.

“Doesn’t give her a right to call me ‘fluffy’.” He snarked. The Cakes raised a few eyebrows and looked at each other.

“Don’t worry about it, Churro. You’ll only have to deal with her whenever there’s a request for a specific pastries. Have you answered any questions for her?”

“Just one,” Churro grunted, “and then she started laughing because of ‘Churro’s Churros’.”

Mr. Cake let out a snort and quickly covered his mouth with his hoof. Mrs. Cake shot him a nasty look and smiled warmly at Churro. Churro met her eyes.

“I’m sure your churros are perfectly fine, Churro.” She reassured him, reaching out a hoof to pat his shoulder comfortingly. Churro grunted as he looked at Mr. Cake as the tall stallion struggled to contain his sniggers.

“Well, maybe you can bake us some samples! So we can get adjusted to your cooking style.” Mrs. Cake said as she glared at her husband, “Right, honey?”

Mr. Cake stiffened up and stood bolt upright, letting the foals run about on the floor. Pound and Pumpkin Cake toddled away. He coughed several times and wiped his nose with his hoof.

“Uhhh… Yeah! Right. Churros. Churro will make us churros. Right?”

Mrs. Cake rolled her eyes and ushered Churro into the kitchen. Pushing the llama behind the counter, she gave him a little salute and began to trot out the spacey kitchen to find her babies.

“Just call for us if you need anything!”

With that, she slammed the kitchen door closed and left Churro alone in the very alien terrain that Churro had never been in before. Llamas had fire pits and pots. No kitchens, ovens, and all the rest of that fancy pony technology. He gently poked a cloven hoof at a short little machine with a clear container mounted on top of it.

The blender let out a brazing roar before kicking to life, whirring away at nothing.

Churro stared at the rumbling tool from his position lying on his back in the floor. He let out a mwa of irritation and pulled himself back up to the counter. He kicked at the blender for a good five minutes before he finally managed to turn it off. There was no way he planned on using any of these children’s toys to make pastries.

Churro studied the various utensils in the many containers all over the counter. He selected a whisk from one of the containers and placed it gently on the counter, should the whisk too let out a roar of hatred and try to attack him.

Now what? He thought as he tried his best to recall the tools and ingredients necessary to make churros.

He wandered aimlessly about the pony kitchen before realizing that there were doors below the counter. He opened the cabinets to find several pots and pans. Pleased with his discovery, he pulled out a sizable saucepan and a round metal bowl and placed it on the counter. More piddling with anything resembling a knob revealed that the strange metal box in the corner held a fire of sorts. He placed the saucepan on the burner and let it heat.

He needed oil. Lots and lots of oil. Churro found more doors above the stove, revealing flours, sugar, salt, and cinnamon. Churro took a moment to realize what a clever llama he was before pulling down every ingredient from the cabinets. He then found oil by accidentally knocking over the flask of it wit a stray hoof as he reached for his prize.

With a face smug with triumph, Churro poured the oil (or what remained in the flask) into the pan and cranked up the stove. He added sugar and salt, in small sprinkles. Then he realized he needed water.

Turning off the stove to halt the sizzling from the pan, Churro studied the kitchen before his banana-shaped ears picked up the sultry sounds of water dripping. He found the sink and waited several moments before realizing there was another knob to turn.

Ponies and their knobs. It was ridiculous. Maybe he should teach them how to cook from a proper fire pit using proper tools. All this fancy technology was getting to his head.

He added water to his oil and let it simmer.

Hoof-selecting the all-purpose flour, he stirred in a hunk of it carefully. He admired the flour as it rolled about, forming golden balls of dough. Perfect! He was beginning to have second thoughts about pony cooking methods. He carefully removed the balls of dough and poured the oil into a large pot.

Rolling the balls of dough into long ropes, he heated up the oil in the pot. It began to boil. He tossed the ropes of dough into the pot and quickly slammed a lid over it. With a sigh of relief he turned about to meet a horrendous mess that he had made of the Cakes’ kitchen. Delightful.

As he cleaned up the spilled oil and flour, and put away the spare utensils and pans, the pot containing the un-decorated churros began to rattle. Churro let out a cry of joy and straightened his baker’s cap. Now was the time for business.

In one swift, fluid motion, Churro lifted the heavy pot and dumped out the oil, keeping the churros within. He plopped them onto a pile of paper towels. The llama baker then strained the churros, letting the oils drip down into the sink as he poured out sugar and cinnamon onto another batch of paper towels.

With an air of controlled dignity, Churro rolled the churros in the cinnamon-sugar mix until the golden treats were coated in a light brown dust. Churro’s churros were done.

He cautiously returned everything to its proper location, and rolled the churros onto a plate.

“Mrs. Cake! Mr. Cake!” Churro brayed, once more straightening his cap. The two burst in, faces full of worry.

“Churro? Everything alright? Anything on fire? Mice? Rats? Mouse-rats?”

Churro looked at the duo in bewilderment before remembering his dish.

“I’ve finished my churros, Missus. Mister.” He shoved the plate towards them, which Mr. Cake took in his hoof. They tentatively sampled the churros. Churro (the llama, not the pastry) smiled at them nervously. He felt several drops of sweat trickle down his brow.

“H-How do they taste?” He stuttered. They both looked thoughtful, before turning away to discuss in heated whispers together. Churro felt his stomach curl in agony. He had known that ponies wouldn’t like llama pasties. The idea of ponies even thinking about tasting them was ridiculous…

“We love it! You’re hired. Can you start tomorrow?”

Churro felt his jaw drop.

“Uh… Yes. Yes I can.”

Author's Note

VOTE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER HERE

Chapter Six: Vicuña Has A Crush

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER SIX: VICUÑA HAS A CRUSH

by SkelePone

Vicuña was the only llama who remained in the Friendship Castle when Poncho had announced that they now owned a sizable cottage on the outskirts of town.

Vicuña had always been taught to respect nature and the spirits that presided over it. He did not necessarily want to move into a building. He felt that settling down would ruin that special link he had with nature. It might even weaken his magic to the point that the only way he could perform spells would be to hold a sacrifice. Even if the spell was as simple as curing snakebite or creating a basic protection amulet.

But, of course… that wasn’t the only reason why he didn’t want to leave the castle.

“So explain to me again how Llama magic works again?” Twilight Sparkle asked. The purple Alicorn Princess was sitting behind a writing desk, levitating a feather quill over a new sheet of parchment. Spike the Dragon was elsewhere. Vicuña knew that he and Rico had gone out to find a few foals for Rico to befriend. And that yellow pegasus by the name of Fluttershy was there as well, but she was downstairs in the throne room. So he was practically all alone in the room with the most beautiful, most gorgeous, most-

“Vicuña? I’m saying your name right, right?”

Vicuña choked for a moment, and hid his face in his dark hood as he blushed furiously.

“It’s pronounced vick-coon-ya.”

“Ah, okay. Vicuña. So please, tell me more about Llama magic.”

Vicuña cleared his throat, allowing his voice to deepen. He licked his lips, and accidentally cut his tongue on his hook-like fighting teeth. Blasted things. Vicuña wished he had gotten them removed when he was a cria.

“Llama magic is… it’s different from pony magic. I hear it’s rather like zebra magic, because we work the magic of the Earth and the magic of nature. But llamas also speak to spirits. We branch out into the unknown to bring out what we do know.” He paused for a moment, looking to Twilight, “You understand what I am saying, correct?”

“Mmhmm! Do llamas make potions?”

“Rarely,” Vicuña grimaced, “usually it’s only for antidotes and medicines.”

“Aha. So how do you shape your magic?”

“We make amulets. From clay, metal, glass. We have to charge the amulets with our magic, but whatever purpose we have built it for, that is how it will operate.” Vicuña pondered what he had just said. “But it is not the most effective way to channel magic. Amulets can wear off. They can be damaged. And a damaged amulet can be a very dangerous thing.”

Twilight nodded in understanding and began to scribble furiously at her notes. Vicuña waited for her to finish. When she did, she hold her quill aloft and looked at him expectantly. Vicuña avoided her gaze, and decided to stare out the window. Be all mysterious. Did pony mares like mysterious stallion? Vicuña didn’t know.

“To manifest the power of our nature magic, we perform blood sacrifices.”

All of Tartarus broke loose.

“YOU WHAT?!” Fluttershy practically shrieked. She had just entered the room as the exact moment that Vicuña had told Twilight that llamas perform sacrifices. Vicuña lost his cool for a moment, looking at Fluttershy with wide, startled eyes. So much for being all mysterious.

“We sacrifice small animals.” He whispered timidly. He almost wished he hadn’t when the yellow pegasus let out a war cry and leapt across the room towards him. The Princess cast a quick spell, preventing Fluttershy from lunging at Vicuña in a fit of rage and wringing his neck with her now very, very dangerous-looking hooves. Vicuña was boundlessly grateful as he watched with horrified eyes as the usually shy mare was now a snarling beast.

“Vicuña… is that true?” Twilight asked. Her voice was low and dark. Vicuña really didn’t like where this was going.

“Um… yes? I think? Is there something wrong with sacrifice?”

“YES. BIG WRONG. BAD. EVIL.” Fluttershy continued to bark out adjectives to describe sacrifices while Twilight shook her head in disappointment. Vicuña felt his ears droop.

“It’s… it’s been a llama tradition since llamas first discovered how to perform magic. We use blood and sacrifices to attract spirits, who charge our amulets and give us power. I never thought of it as wrong…”

Twilight only shook her head once more. Vicuña hid his face under his hood. He really didn’t like where this was going now.

“It’s always been that way. Using a squirrel, a rabbit, or mouse…” Vicuña fought against his fear to try ignore Fluttershy’s new fit of rage as he stared deeply into Twilight’s eyes. They were a stunning shade of lilac. Vicuña felt like his yellow eyes didn’t quite meet up to her’s. They were far too dull for her gleaming irises.

“I-Is there something wrong with sacrifice…?”

“YES!” Fluttershy shrieked, still struggling against Twilight’s spell. Twilight shook her head at Fluttershy and then looked to Vicuña with large, sad eyes. Vicuña immediately felt guilty. He shouldn’t have. He had no reason to feel guilty. But he did anyways.

“Vicuña, you know that killing a small animal just for the sake of magic is like… it’s dark magic. It’s evil. You know this, right?”

Vicuña was confused.

“But how can magic be evil? Magic doesn’t have any alliances. It’s energy. Energy that llamas, ponies, and zebras use. Magic can’t be evil. There is only evil ponies or evil llamas.” Vicuña explained, although he honestly had no idea how pony magic worked. If ponies didn’t make sacrifices, how did they boost their magical energy? That would be a question for later, Vicuña figured.

“Well…” Twilight studied the snarling Fluttershy. The yellow mare had stopped flipping out was now calmly (but nonetheless still disturbingly) staring at Vicuña. The llama shaman felt like she suddenly did not like him.

“Vicuña, you understand that killing… killing in general is wrong?”

Vicuña was stunned. If he hadn’t been wearing his cloak, the Princess would have been able to easily see his shaking knees and his watering eyes. It wasn’t his fault he was taught to perform sacrifice in order to execute a magical spell.

“W-Well… I never… I never saw it as wrong…” Vicuña stammered. Fluttershy recommenced her snarling and thrashing in Twilight’s suspending levitation field.

Twilight shook her head and began to trot away from Vicuña, bringing Fluttershy with her. Vicuña hid even more deeply within the folds of his cloak. He let out a little mwa of despair. Twilight, never having heard a llama’s mwa before, raised her eyebrow at Vicuña.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That ‘em-wah’ sound you made.”

“A mwa?” Vicuña cocked his head. Now he was sad and confused. His two least favorite emotions. Did ponies not mwa when they were frustrated or depressed? “That’s simply a sound llamas make when we are… upset.”

“Are you upset?” Twilight’s expression softened and she turned to look at Vicuña fully. The llama shaman had difficulty avoiding her lavender eyes. Eventually his yellow eyes met hers. He suddenly felt indignant.

“No!” Vicuña announced hastily. “I-I just don’t think that you ponies fully understand llama magic. And you jump to conclusions. Thinking llamas are evil because of how they perform magic. It’s how we’ve been doing it for generations. And we don’t even sacrifice daily. A single mouse can usually attract the spirits who execute our magic for up to a week. Sometimes longer, depending on the spirits we attract.”

“Y-You ponies! You think that it’s your way or the highway. It’s ridiculous! Just because a life is lost does not mean it does not serve a purpose. Sacrifices are sacrifices for a reason. They take a part of us and contribute it to something greater.” Vicuña turned to Fluttershy, who had gone silent in her magical containment bubble. “What about a cria, a baby llama, who was born premature and who is dying? One would need a high-powered amulet of healing. And the only way to make one is to sacrifice a squirrel in order to summon the proper spirit of benevolence? If you do not make the sacrifice, the cria will die. If you wish to heal the cria, the squirrel must die. So who do you choose?”

Vicuña stared deeply into Fluttershy’s teal eyes.

“Who do you choose?” He whispered to her, “The baby? Or the squirrel?”

Fluttershy had calmed down enough to consider Vicuña’s question.

“W-Well… what if there was some other way…”

“There is no other way.” Vicuña murmured.

“Well… I mean… uhm…”

Vicuña clicked his fighting teeth. Fluttershy hushed up. Grateful that she was no longer trying to kill him, he began to explain himself.

“Llamas live in mountains. It’s how it’s been for eons. We have had no contact with no other species until recently. And by the time the Princesses finally contacted us, our magic technique had already rooted itself so deeply in our culture that using any other magical technique would be ineffective.”

Vicuña nodded towards the portrait of the Elements of Harmony mounted on the wall. He recognized them of course. Every llama did.

“Furthermore, without the llama practice of sacrifices, the Elements of Harmony would not even exist.”

Now this peaked Twilight’s interest.

“WHAT?”

“Llamas crafted the Elements. We are creators of amulets. The Elements of Harmony are the most powerful amulet artifacts How could you have not pieced that together?”

Twilight Sparkle began to gape from Vicuña to the portrait of the Elements in surprise. She was so engrossed with this new information that she released Fluttershy from her containment bubble. The yellow pegasus glowered at Vicuña but did not attack.

“Is there anything else that llamas have made that I’m not aware of?” The Princess asked the shaman. He was glad that one was no longer trying to kill him and that the other (and notably prettier) mare was now looking at him like he was the single most greatest thing to walk within her castle walls.

“Well… Llamas also crafted the Alicorn Amulet of old. But that amulet is evidence of amulet corruption, when a crafter does not safeguard the magic against evil intent. There are numerous more that haven’t been seen or heard of for centuries. The Bell of Grogar. The Elements of Heroism. The Elements of Disharmony.” Vicuña said. He began to wonder about the fate of the lesser known elements.

“The Elements of Heroism? Disharmony? There were more elements?” Twilight asked, her eyes widening. Vicuña looked out the window at the setting sun.

“They haven’t been heard of in millenia. Their power challenged that the Elements of Harmony. The Elements of Heroism were… let me see if I remember correctly… Bravery. Wisdom. Hope. Justice. Honor. Tolerance. Llamas were the original bearers. But eventually ponies, griffons, deer, buffalo; they all began to integrate. Work together as one. But then the Elements of Disharmony rose up, created by one of the only evil llama shamans in history. He wanted to destroy the Elements of Heroism, and take over all of the world.”

Vicuña screwed his eyes shut, struggling to remember his lessons. He had learned this history so long ago.

“The Elements of Disharmony were volatile and deadly. The amulets themselves took their energy from the magic of the user. Eventually, the user would die. And the Element would find a new bearer.”

“That’s terrible!” Fluttershy exclaimed, her eyes widening. Her look of rage was replaced by a look of horror. “Elements that kill ponies?”

Now it was Vicuña’s turn to glare at Fluttershy.

“That’s what happens when a sacrifice is not made,” Vicuña snarked, “an amulet must get its energy from somewhere.” Twilight must have sensed another fight, so she interrupted them.

“What were the Elements of Disharmony?”

“Ah… let’s see… Treachery. Lies. Cruelty. Greed. Mockery. Disorder. The powers of these elements were the exact opposite of-”

“The Elements of Harmony.” Twilight breathed, finishing Vicuña’s sentence. The llama shaman nodded. That was why the Elements of Harmony had been created. To counter the Elements of Disharmony.

“But the Elements of Disharmony and the Elements of Heroism were lost over the generations, and now only the Elements of Harmony remain.”

Vicuña, Fluttershy, and Twilight Sparkle were silent.

“Well… I mean… if the Elements of Disharmony were created because sacrifices didn’t happen… wouldn’t there be another way t-to make an amulet? Without having to kill an animal?” Fluttershy winced upon those words. Vicuña could tell that she really did not like the idea of woodland creatures being sacrificed.

“I have to attract the attention of a spirit somehow. They’re pretty stupid, the spirits. The only come when something is ripped apart, to feed off the negative vibrations from the killer.”

Fluttershy suddenly squeed and flew from the room at lightning speed. Vicuña spun around on his hooves, crashing to the floor hard as he slammed into the ground. He looked behind him to see the throne room door slam shut. Dazed, he slowly picked himself up.

“Where did she go?” He asked the Princess.

Twilight shrugged.

Several moments, Fluttershy returned carrying a fuzzy little thing. Vicuña recognized it as a bear. Only this bear was much, much smaller than the great bears of the Alpaca Mountains. And this thing wasn’t even alive. Vicuña realized he was looking at a pony foal’s toy. Why in Equestria would they want to give their children a toy that resembled a predator? Vicuña remembered what Poncho had told him when they first came to Ponyville. Now, the shaman agreed with their leader.

Ponies really were odd creatures.

“Here!” Fluttershy thrust the bear into Vicuña’s cloven hooves. The shaman pulled down his hood and studied the toy.

“What is this?”

“A teddy bear! You can rip that open instead! I mean, if you want to…” Vicuña continue to squint at the bear. Both mares gasped as Vicuña violently ripped the teddy bear’s head off.

The stuffing from the bear’s body spilling out onto the floor. The room suddenly got much colder, the chills magnified by the crystal walls. Vicuña nodded in approval. Then, dropping the teddy bear head, he pulled out a peculiar looking pendant, shaped like a donut. The amulet began to glow as the spirits that had entered the room charged it in thanks. The amulet’s glow continued for a good long minute before dimming once more.

Then the room returned to its normal temperature.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Vicuña breathed. Fluttershy only nodded, but Twilight cocked her head at the amulet in Vicuña’s cloven hoof.

“What is that for?” She asked, pointing her own hoof at the bright orange loop that sparkled in the blue light of the cutie map.

“An amulet of protection. Defends against evil spirits, minor curses, and most poisons.”

“Really?” She gasped.

“Yes.”

Twilight looked at the amulet. Vicuña noticed that she was staring at it with a face full of curiosity and wonder. Vicuña’s heart leapt as he realized what he should do.

“Would you like it?”

Twilight was flabbergasted: “Oh no no no no no, I can’t possibly accept. That seems to me to be a powerful amulet. You keep it.”

“Princess,” Vicuña said with a smile, “I have countless amulets. And honestly, I would feel better if you keep it. It would protect you from the dangers most commonly found in magical studies.”

The Princess levitated the amulet from Vicuña’s hooves and looped it around her own neck. She smiled brightly at the shaman, who smiled back. Fluttershy said nothing, but she too admired the way that the orange medallion sparkled on Twilight’s chest. The Princess beamed.

“Thank you, Vicuña.”

“You’re welcome, Princess.”

Author's Note

I know this chapter seems a little skippy, but it's mostly about Vicuña's relationship with ponies and the way that llamas tie in with Equestrian history.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll have Bonita's chapter out next. Then Rico's. And THEN the twins' chapter.

Chapter Seven: Bonita At The Boutique

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER SEVEN: BONITA AT THE BOUTIQUE

by SkelePone

“Bonita, darling, do watch out. That wedding dress simply cannot get dirty at this hour. The bride’s bound to pick it up by the end of the day.”

Bonita rolled her eyes at Rarity’s scolding.

“Yes, Miss Rarity.”

“Bonita, darling, there’s no need to call me ‘Miss’.”

“Yes, Miss Rarity.”

Bonita was entirely disinterested. She wanted nothing to do with the white unicorn mare. Rarity claimed that she needed some semi-professional assistance with the Carousel Boutique. But Bonita knew better.

All Rarity wanted was a swatch of Bonita’s cotton-candy coat of wool. The pink llama was observant enough to notice the hungry look that Rarity gave her whenever she thought Bonita wasn’t paying attention. And Bonita didn’t like it one bit. The llama wouldn’t mind if the pony just asked for some of her wool. She was due for a shearing anyways. But the pony wouldn’t ask, she’d just stare.

It was at this moment when Bonita felt sudden anger towards Poncho. The herd’s appointed leader was selected by Abuelo Urcu himself. But Bonita felt that Poncho was the least qualified of them all to lead them.

Especially now, when he was forcing her employment to the Carousel Boutique. Poncho had even suggested she befriend some of their customers. He had suggested that she get to know Rarity better. Which was far from what she wanted.

Bonita began to consider who would make a better leader. Bronco was her first immediate thought. He was strong, humble, and even a bit handsome. Everything that Poncho wasn’t. He was perfect. But then again… the llama was big and bulky, but he seemed a bit… shy. Unless their lives were in danger, Bronco rarely said a word to any of them. Even if they were in same herd.

So maybe another llama. Bonita began to rearrange the bouquets in the shop window as she hummed some random song to herself. Maybe Mama was more qualified. She was experienced in leading, after all. But Mama was frail. Weak. Bonita honestly doubted that the elderly dam would make it past a year.

Cha Cha and Macarena were out of the question. Bonita was friends with them, sure. But their heads were practically empty. They knew almost nothing besides how to dance. And even then, they couldn’t sing or make music of their own. Besides their talent with dancing, they were pretty much useless. Bonita wondered what Poncho had forced them to do for work. Bonita smiled to herself as she imagined the twins dancing away in a construction site, wearing hard hats.

“What are you smiling at?” Rarity called from over at the cash register. Bonita’s smile melted off her face as she struggled to contain a groan.

“Nothing, Miss Rarity.”

“Please, darling, really,” Bonita could see the unicorn pouting from behind the sales counter, “you can just call me ‘Rarity’.”

Bonita turned away from Rarity, not answering. She recommenced her imagining of various members of the herd playing leader. Rico couldn’t be leader. He was only a cria, and a cripple at that. Nothing wrong with cripples, however. It’s just that Rico was quite possibly the weakest of them all.

Pepe Fouchan definitely could not be the leader. That green llama male was insane. Always spouting a wide assortment of nonsense from who knows where. Pepe was one weird llama.

Vicuña? The shaman appeared to be wise, like Abuelo Urcu. And equally mysterious. But it was taboo to make a shaman a herd leader. Ever since some long ago tragedy that Bonita couldn’t recall and didn’t care enough to, shamans remained as advisors to the herd leader, instead of as leaders themselves.

“Bonita, darling, could you stand by the register? I’m going off to lunch.”

“Yes, Miss Rarity.”

Bonita followed Rarity’s orders and stood patiently by the counter as the unicorn flitted out of the store. Before she disappeared from view, Bonita saw Rarity make a sad glance through the window towards Bonita. Maybe the mare was finally realizing that Bonita wasn’t interested in selling the greedy white mare any of her wool. Bonita was lost in her la la land when the front door let out a jingle as it swung open. Bonita shook her boredom from her mind and plastered the biggest fake smile she could muster onto her face.

“Well to Carousel Boutique! I’m Bonita, and I can help if you ever need anything!” Bonita called to the red-maned mare who had walked in. The Earth pony mare was followed immediately by another Earth pony, a stallion.

“Thank you. My, does Rarity have a new employee? I didn’t even know she was hiring.” The mare said to Bonita. The llama shrugged in disinterest. She really didn’t want to have a conversation right now. The mare’s coltfriend (or what Bonita assumed was her coltfriend) stood near the doorway gaping at Bonita.

“Cor blimey, Rose. What the hay is that?”

“PORTER!” The mare, Rose, shouted. She smiled apologetically at Bonita. The llama wasn’t really all that offended. This same scene had already happened about a dozen times in the last few days.

“I’m so sorry, miss.” Rose apologized with a smile, “My-” she kicked at the stallion with one of her hind hooves as she sounded out each word, “coltfriend-” ah, Bonita loved to be right “here doesn’t have any manners.”

“Ow.” Porter complained, rubbing his leg where Rose had kicked him. Bonita had a feeling that Rose hadn’t really hurt him, and that the stallion was just pretending to be hurt to please his marefriend. Bonita really had no idea what was going through ponies’ oddly-shaped heads. The llama watched with extreme boredom as the couple made their way around the boutique. Rarity had told her to stay by the cash register. Not help the customers. Which was fine by her.

Bonita felt her eyes drift to the ponies’ flanks. Not in a sexual way, but more out of curiosity. She admired the odd symbols on them. These ‘cutie marks’ as they called them. From what Poncho and Princess Twilight had explained, those cutie marks were a way of telling what a pony’s occupation was. Or what their destiny was to be.

So apparently the mare had a job that had to do with roses and the stallion had something to do with a mug of some brownish liquid. It made sense with the mare. Her name was Rose. Her flank had a rose on it. Her hair was red, like a rose. It all seemed to fit. Weird.

The stallion was harder to understand. Bonita had no idea what his cutie mark was supposed to be. His black, short-cut mane didn’t really have anything at all in common with his cutie mark. Neither did the color of his coat, a light tan-yellowish color. Bonita found herself thinking about pony coats now.

Pony coats were weird. Not soft and downy like her own wool. No two llamas had the same wool texture, color, and growth rate. Not even the twins, who had different colors on their coats. But pony coats only varied in color. They all had the same texture and length. It was so odd being in a place where every llama… or everypony, that is was so alike. And yet different at the same time. Bonita now found herself wishing she was a pony. It’d be more preferable to standing around all bored and harassed by white mares.

Bonita was shook once more out of the depths of her mind when the couple came to the counter, plopping down several dresses and a tweed cabbie cap. Bonita checked the price tags and lazily counted up the numbers.

“That’ll be one hundred seventy-two bits.”

The mare hoofed over a large heavy, jingling sack of money. They remained at the counter. Bonita felt a tad bit irritated.

“Can I help you?” She finally asked. The mare opened her mouth, but her coltfriend asked his question first.

“What tha’ bloody Tartarus are you?”

“I’m a llama,” Bonita answered grouchily, “anything else?”

Rose gulped and she shot a dirty look at Porter. Porter smiled sheepishly but grabbed the cabbie hat shoving it over his mane. Bonita just looked at them with half-amusement, half-irritation. Didn’t they have anything better to do?

“Well,” Rose said, “we’re guessing that you’re new to the neighborhood…” She trailed off, as if asking Bonita a question. Bonita shrugged.

“And I figured we’d welcome you to the neighborhood. Do you plan on having an open house anytime soon? Carnegie here can provide the beverages. Right, honey?”

“Uhh…” The stallion looked confused for a moment, still ogling at her, “Yeah. Sure. Definitely.” Rose rolled her eyes. Bonita could honestly care less about either of them. But she did wonder if the stallion’s name was Porter or if it was Carnegie. Or maybe it was both. Porter Carnegie? Carnegie Porter?

“I dunno,” Bonita grumbled, “I’ll have to ask Poncho.”

“Oh!” Rose bubbled, “Is he your husband?”

Bonita snorted and almost burst laughing.

“Huh. Yeah right. In his dreams. He’s just the leader of my herd. And he’s the one who owns the house and tells every llama what to do.” Bonita informed Rose bitterly. The mare looked disappointed, but nodded in understanding.

“Well… if you do have an open house of some kind, be sure to invite us! That’s Miss Roseluck and Mister Carnegie Porter. And you are…?”

“Bonita.”

“Bonita! Wonderful! How do you like working for Rarity?”

“Honestly, she’s a greedy prick.”

Rose looked scandalous. “Rarity?! Greedy?!? She’s the Element of Generosity! Well, who would have known?” Bonita felt her ears droop. Element of Generosity? Oh…

Rose, meanwhile, had laughed and shook her head in amazement. Then, she and Porter began to make their way from the counter towards the exit.

“Well, see you around!” The mare called as she trotted out the door. Her bumbling coltfriend followed close behind, carrying her dresses. Or what Bonita hoped was Rose’s dresses. She wondered if anypony in Ponyville was into cross-dressing. It’d be pretty funny if they were.

Then she realized, with horror, that she had inadvertently become acquainted with a pony couple.

Chapter Eight: Dank Memes

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER EIGHT: DANK MEMES

by SkelePone

Pepe Fouchan is widely believed to be a very simple-minded llama.

A very simple-minded creature in general.

Pepe’s mother had always said it’s because he was struck by lightning at a young age. Ever since that terrible moment, he had spouted nothing but absolute nonsense. To every llama of the herd, that lightning strike had cursed him. Made him stupid. But Pepe felt that he was suddenly smarter than every other llama. So much information flowed through his mind. Dank memes, copypastas, hashtags. He was suddenly, in the matter of seconds, the smartest llama in the entire herd. Maybe even in all of Equestria.

His only problem was that he couldn’t speak normally. He could relay the information blasting across his brain, yes. But he couldn’t make what seemed like idiotic nonsense into anything coherent. At first, his spouts of nonsense were taken seriously. His last name had been changed to ‘Four-Chan’ like he had requested, even if it was corrupted to ‘Fouchan’ by the llama dialect. Eventually, llamas began to realize he appeared to be nothing but a braindead moron.

So he was doomed, destined to live a fate where no llama would ever care for him. Or see him as anything beyond a freak.

Pepe eventually became a Pack llama. It was all they thought he could ever be. He was too stupid to be anything else. And the members of his family made sure to tell him that. Frequently.

His father had been a Pack llama, anyways. As had his mother. He was bred to be one.

And he was a strong one. He would have been famed for the weights he could carry, almost ten times his own body weight, but his family was so ashamed of him that the restricted him from carrying anything that would bring special attention to him.

His family was so inhibiting. They were so embarrassed by Pepe’s behavior that it was no wonder to any of the herd (and to the enormous relief of Pepe’s family) that the green llama was to go along with Poncho in hopes of going to a better place, among the ponies. Maybe even somewhere where he would be accepted.

Or even, he dared to hope, where he could be loved.

Of course, the journey to Ponyville had been taken in stride. Besides the whole fainting in the desert part. He didn’t really like that bit.

And, of course, Pepe had been very disappointed to learn that nopony else had the same problems as he had. The only pony he felt he could even wish to relate to was the hyper pink mare he had met. Pinkie Pie. Vicuña had claimed that he had fallen in love with Princess Twilight on that day. Well, Pepe had fallen in love with a pony who was almost completely the opposite of the lavender alicorn.

He was walking home one day with Rico, the little cria limping along beside Pepe. Rico was the only llama who was truly kind to Pepe. Maybe it was because the little one thought he was funny. Maybe because Rico was just innocent. But Rico was Pepe’s best friend.

“So what are we gonna do when we get home, Pepe?” Rico asked, gazing up at the tall green llama with wide eyes.

“360 no scope some noobs.” Pepe suggested. Rico nodded and considered that.

“I dunno. Sounds dangerous. Maybe we could just play some cards? Poker again?” Rico asked. Pepe nodded. That was a bit more what he had been trying to say. The two llamas walked side by side down the empty streets.

From around a corner came three giggling pony fillies. An orange pegasus, a white unicorn, and a yellow Earth pony. Pepe and Rico stopped let them pass by. They were all wearing strange red capes with blue symbols over where their flanks were. Rico watched them longingly as they ran off laughing. Pepe reached out and tapped the cria’s shoulder with a cloven hoof.

“Keep Calm and Dank Memes.” Pepe said comfortingly. Then he ushered Rico after the fillies. Rico smiled up at Pepe and gave the big green llama a hug.

“Thanks, Pepe. I’ll see ya later!” And with that, the cria limped off as fast as he could after the laughing ponies. Pepe smirked to himself as he continued on his way towards the cottage. Little Rico was growing up so fast.

It was while Pepe was thinking to himself about making his own friends when he bumped into a certain somepony as she walked out of Sugarcube Corner. Upon realizing who it was, Pepe was ecstatic.

“Oh hi! Pepe, right?” Pinkie Pie cried started to trot beside Pepe. The green llama felt his heart skip a beat. She had remembered his name.

“Yes, I am the rarest of Pepes.” Damn it! Why did he always screw it up! Pepe felt like crying, but to his surprise, Pinkie Pie giggled. She thought he was funny? She thought he was funny! Pepe beamed brightly.

“You’re pretty silly, Pepe.”

“Ayy lmao.”

“Ayy!” She giggled again. Pepe’s heart started to tap dance in his chest and they bounced down the dirt street together, he carrying a ton of groceries that Poncho had ordered him to pick up. The dark green llama and the vividly pink mare began to chat together. Or rather, as well as Pepe could chat.

“And then I said ‘Oatmeal? Are you crazy?!’” Both of them cackled loudly.

“4-20 blaze it.” Pepe chuckled.

The two were so engrossed with their exchange of jokes and odd nonsense that they didn’t notice the giant bulky pegasus until Pinkie Pie slammed into his side. She hadn’t so much as made him flinch as she tumbled to the ground. Pepe stopped his prancing to help her up. Like a proper gentlellama.

The big white pegasus glared down at Pinkie Pie with red eyes full of hatred. He pulled his lips
into a snarl. She squeed. Pepe smiled. Maybe this was a new friend? Pepe realized that that was very, very untrue as the pegasus stallion reared up and towered over Pinkie Pie.

“Watch where you’re going, you annoying little pink freak.”

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a green blur swooped past Pinkie Pie and met the pegasus in a great body-slam, with enough momentum to send the goliath crashing to the ground. Pepe sneered down at the fallen stallion, standing atop of him. Suddenly, the green packing llama started to speak.

Very, very quickly.

Even faster than Pinkie Pie was notorious for.

“What the buck did you just bucking say about her, you little filly? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Royal Guard Academy, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Paca, and I have over three hundred confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire Royal Guard. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the buck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this planet, mark my bucking words. You think you can get away with saying that crap to her over the Internet? Think again, mother-bucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across Equestria and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re bucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hooves. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the Equestrian Royal Guard and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable flank off the face of the continent, you little filly. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little ‘clever’ comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your bucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you Celestia-damned idiot. I will crap fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re bucking dead, kiddo.”

The white pegasus gulped and a trickle of sweat made its way down his brow.

“O-O-Okay… s-sorry… p-please get off of me n-now.”

Pepe complied, slipping down to stand beside Pinkie. The white pegasus bolted upright and galloped as fast as he could away from the llama and the mare. Pinkie let out a squeal and wrapped Pepe in a big hug.

“Thanks Pepe! That was really cool!”

Pepe just grinned blankly. She was hugging him.

“Send noodz.”

Pepe and Pinkie Pie bounded together into the llama’s cottage, startling Poncho.

“Hello, Pepe. I was wondering where you had gotten to. What took you so long?”

Then the llama noticed Pinkie Pie. Poncho’s face suddenly stretched into what Pepe thought was a smile that was so wide it looked rather painful. Then Pepe remembered that Pinkie Pie was an Element of Harmony. One of those important things that Poncho was so desperate to make a good impression on. Pepe wondered to himself if he had impressed Pinkie.

“Hello, Missus Pie! It’s a delight to see you again.” Poncho announced as he bowed low. Pepe thought that Poncho was quite the suck-up.

“Hi, Ponchy! You mind if I call you Ponchy? And Pepe here’s my new friend! He’s soooooo funny! I love him!” Pepe felt his heart stop. It’s not what you think it is, he thought to himself. “He’s the best! Why didn’t you tell me Pepe was so cool? And he’s so strong, too!” She turned and batted her eyes at Pepe. The green llama’s cheeks turned red and he almost fainted. Instead, he gave a weak smile.

Pinkie Pie then gave Poncho a word-for-word firsthoof account on what they had been through on the walk to the llamas’ house. Poncho listened to the whole story, looking at Pepe with a peculiar face. When Pinkie had said her good-byes, hugging Poncho and giving Pepe a peck on the cheek (Pepe swore to himself he’d never wash that cheek again), Poncho took the groceries from the Pack llama and busied himself with putting them away.

Pepe stood about awkwardly.

“So,” Poncho said finally, still focused on putting away the food, “you interested in that mare?”

Pepe gulped.

“Jet fuel can’t melt steel beams.” He mumbled.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Poncho said, his voice emotionless. Was he going to forbid Pepe from seeking out Pinkie Pie?

“Well,” Poncho said as he turned to Pepe, “good luck with that.”

Pepe nodded.

“Gotta go fast.”

Author's Note

Pepe's backstory was the easiest one to come up with. Also yes, that is the Navy Seal Copypasta converted into one that fits in with Equestria. But because we haven't had a poll in a while, here ya go.

Chapter Ten: Emperor Urcuchillay

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER TEN: EMPEROR URCUCHILLAY
WARNING: SOME DARK ELEMENTS

by SkelePone

Dear Abuelo Urcu,

I am pleased to say that the herd is settling wonderfully. The ponies have given us a home and have even extended their hooves in friendship! There is a Princess in the town we have settled in, a lovely place called ‘Ponyville’. The ponies here aren’t as aggressive or as ludicrous as we had feared.

I have made friendly with the pony Princess Twilight Sparkle. She is delightful, but I fear that Vicuña has developed some sort of crush on the pony. Imagine a pony and a llama together. I know you’d laugh if you were here.

Rico had joined a pony club called the ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders’. I know not whether he seeks treatment for his birth defect. I will have to remind him of this.

Bonita has found work at a fashion store. I encouraged Cha Cha and Macarena to do so as well, but they have found better work as dancers. I believe they are moving to Canterlot soon. Churro has found an occupation as a baker. No surprise there. Bronco is also finding work. I don’t know what as, however.

Pepe has made a friend. Don’t ask. I don’t know how. I am beginning to realize I don’t know a lot about the goings on of my little herd.

Mama has been taken ill. She is staying at the Ponyville Community Hospital, but I assume that she will be right as rain before the day is done. She seems to be enjoying herself there. Made a few friends with the local elderlies.

I hope all is going well with the herd back home. Maybe things will be going more smoothly now that the population is a bit smaller. Anyways, be sure to write back! I’d love to know about anything else we can help you with, Abuelo.

Sincerely, Poncho

Abuelo Urcu smiled down at the familiar chicken-scratch hoofwriting of the musician he had sent away into Equestria almost two moons ago.

But he was not smiling upon knowing that those ten llamas were safe, however. He was smiling at the fact that the ponies were… friendly. And seemingly ill-defended.

He looked up at the quavering pegasus messenger who had delivered the note. He gave the grey stallion a half-smile of reassurance. The pegasus was quaking with either fear or the cold. Possibly the latter, but Urcu felt more empowered as he was assuming it was the former.

“Thank you kindly for the message. I will have to pay you.” Urcu stated aloud as he turned his back to the messenger. The dark-woollen leader chuckled as he heard the guards wearing warrior headdresses shuffled closer to the mindless pony fool. Urcu wished the messenger would panic already. He was getting bored with the calm.

Urcu found an obsidian dagger, and held it tightly in his fighting teeth. It had been a long time since he had last carried the blade.

“Oh, no payment necessary, sir. S’all been paid fer.”

“Praise be thee, Mictlantecuhtli.” Urcu muttered, gripping the obsidian dagger tighter as he faced the messenger. Ponies. They made Urcu sick. Urcu gestured to the guards. They knew what to do.

“Uh… what wuz tha’, mister? And what’s tha’ thing in yer m-”

The stallion was cut off suddenly when two guards went and grabbed him brutally. A third clamped a cloven hoof over the pony’s mouth. The pony struggled and Urcu couldn’t but laugh at the trickles of sweat pouring down the pony’s brow.

A fourth guard carrying a macuahuitl in his own teeth stepped forward. The wooden sword with it’s shards of obsidian had already been stained with red. Urcu nodded.

The stallion’s screams could not be hushed as the macuahuitl-bearer whacked off his left wing. Blood spilled onto the ground, the crimson fluid mixing with the bone-dry soil to make a thick mud. Urcu and the guards took a moment to pray to the spirits. This sacrifice would charge their remaining amulets.

Urcu smiled wickedly as the stallion screamed again. What a pity. He had missed wing number two. Urcu took the pleasure of kicking away the feathered hunks of meat. They were of no use to them, the meat. But the feathers could be used for headdresses.

The stallion was crying.

“Shut up.” Urcu snapped. The pony was too stupid to listen.

“Please… why are you doing this?!”

“I said SHUT UP.” Urcu snarled. The stallion whimpered, but continued to struggle in the grip of the guards. How annoying. It looked like Urcu was going to have to do something about that.

Urcu jammed the dagger into the exposed flesh on the stallion’s back it let out a scream of pain. Damn it, Urcu thought, I’ve missed the lung. My aim is getting lousy. Urcu waltzed over to the front of the stallion. The real business would be here.

“Wait no!”

It was too late for the stallion to protest. Urcu jammed the blade at the top of the pony’s belly, right near the ribcage. He dropped the dagger quickly after making the first cut and thrust his hoof into the pony’s body. The stallion let out one last gasp of breath as Urcu tore out the heart. It beat pitifully in his hoof a few times before Urcu pulled it from the corpse.

The amulets dangling from every llama’s neck began to glow as the spirits charged them. Amulets of protection. Amulets of immunity. Amulets of strength. In short, amulets of war.

“Throw the body with the others.” Urcu barked. They had already taken every pony at Fort Fresh Hooves and killed them. Now was a matter of a few griffons. And then the invasion could begin. Starting with this… ‘Ponyville’ place. The Llamayan Empire shall rise again, no longer would llamas live under pony rule. No longer would llamas be subject to the demands of the other species of Equestria! And he was no longer Abuelo Urcu.

Now, he was Emperor Urcuchillay.

Author's Note

So shit just got real.

So now that you know this story is taking a more serious turn, expect to see more Emperor Urcuchillay in later chapters. The order of the next few chapters will be: Bronco, Cha Cha and Macarena, and Mama. Then I'll do an update on Pepe's side of the story and Poncho's. Then maybe Vicuña will have a chapter. After that, it's all based on how Emperor Urcuchillay invades Equestria.

Also, for those of you who have been reading this since the beginning, sorry for the sudden dark plot twist. But I kinda wanted to put a war in there somewhere. The Aztecs and Mayans have an incredible culture circulating about war. I didn't want to leave any of that out. Also, it lets llama amulets appear much more than just shiny trinkets.

Chapter Eleven: Bronco Hates Pie

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER ELEVEN: BRONCO HATES PIE

by SkelePone

Bronco wished for nothing more than to crush the skull of the small rabbit in his fighting teeth.

It was a warrior’s instinct to use the six curved fags hidden in his mouth, ready for the first glimmer of deadly conflict. Of course, true warriors would wield daggers, bows, spears, and macuahuitls. But Bronco felt that nothing could beat the satisfaction of using his bare teeth to tear that smug grin off the mouth of Angel Bunny, who was leering over at Bronco from across the dinner table. Fluttershy had invited Bronco for dinner at her cottage, but the last thing Bronco wanted was to share a meal with that bratty fluffball and with a dangerous draconequus.

Discord was also a dinner guest.

In llama culture, Discord has always been known as ‘Supay’, the dark lord of all things evil and chaotic. The only one challenging the being was Mictlantecuhtli, the spirit of death and destruction. But when the Sister Princesses froze Supay and banished Mictlantecuhtli to Tartarus, the worship of the two deities was halted.

Learning that the Master of Chaos himself was going to make an appearance, Bronco hadn’t taken a moment to reconsider his acceptance of Fluttershy’s invitation. Until, of course, he learned that Angel Bunny was going to be present throughout the affair. His one chance to meet an ancient being who had shaped llama history forever… ruining by a bunny rabbit.

Bronco was brought out of his somber grumpy state by Fluttershy, who left the dining room but for less than a minute in order to collect a pie that had been baking in the oven. Instantly, the rabbit began to misbehave to no foreseeable end.

Angel Bunny tossed a hunk of carrot at The Chaos Lord Supay’s long nose as it stuck out from the teacup he had been sipping. Bronco’s jaw dropped, and he assumed instantly that Discord would turn the rabbit’s skin inside out and make it do the tango or something equally terrifying. But instead the draconequus scowled and started a conversation with Bronco.

“So, ‘Bronco’. How long have you known Fluttershy?”

“Errr… Maybe a week or two.”

“One or two?”

“Yes.”

“No,” Discord hissed impatiently, “I’m asking: one week or two weeks?”

“Um. One. And a few days.” Bronco was nervous. He was speaking to a spirit so feared in llama culture that many back at the mountains would cower upon hearing his name. And the spirit seemed angry with him… for knowing Fluttershy?

The rabbit sniggered as a chewed up chunk of carrot smacked Bronco in the muzzle. Bronco and Discord together glared at the bunny. Than their expressions shifted to warm smiles as Fluttershy flew gracefully into the room, carrying a large pumpkin pie in her hooves.

“Pumpkin pie? My, Fluttershy, is it getting to be that time already?” Discord, Suqay, whatever his name was, purred. Bronco felt like the draconequus was quite the suck-up.

“What is pumpkin pie?” Bronco asked. He immediately felt stupid as three pairs of eyes stared at him incredulously. But Bronco honestly didn’t know what the strange orange pastry sitting before them was. He knew what pumpkins were. He had seen them often in the cold season of the mountains, on display at Fort Fresh Hooves. But he had never thought the giant things were actually eaten.

“Pumpkin pie is only the most delicious of autumn foods!” Discord announced. Angel Bunny squeaked in agreement. Bronco only looked at the pie with a slight air of distrust. Could llamas eat pumpkin? He didn’t know. And he wasn’t too sure if he wanted to find out.

Fluttershy gave each dinner guest a slice, Discord and Angel immediately swallowing their portions with relish. Fluttershy herself politely laid a napkin before her and gently used a fork and knife to cut and lift the pastry. The llama took a moment to wonder how she could pick up utensils with hooves like his. Maybe it was some pony magic thing going on.

Bronco sniffed his slice. He glanced sideways across the maroon lace tablecloth at Angel. The bunny’s belly was already bulging grotesquely. Possibly an allergic reaction? Bronco looked to the other side, at Discord. The draconequus snapped a pair of talons and a second slice appeared before the spirit. Bronco stared straight ahead at Fluttershy, who met his gaze. She blushed and went straight back to eating.

Bronco groaned inwardly. He had bested manticores, chimera, and Timber Wolves in combat. Why couldn’t he manage to take a single bite of pie?

Unnaturally orange pie.

With a sleek shine of sticky something on it.

And strange flakes of unidentifiable spices.

Gross…

He wished Churro was here. The chef could tell him if it was safe to eat with nothing but a single glance. The fat llama would probably eat the slice himself. The greasy bastard.

Bronco snorted uncomfortably. He felt like he was being forced to eat the despicable creation resting before him. Then he remembered the mare who had baked it.

Fluttershy.

Thinking about the pegasus, he recalled with ease his first day in Ponyville.

ABOUT TWO MONTHS PRIOR
He had been ordered to wait outside of the crystal castle. Bronco had only been sitting outside for a few moments before an Earth pony stallion with a tan coat and a black mane smashed into him.

And that was how he met his first pony friend, Carnegie Porter.

“Sorry ‘bout tha’ mate…” The drunk slurred as he rubbed his head with a hoof. Than the stallion looked up in awe at Bronco’s sheer size. “Blimey, yer a biggen’ aintcha?”

Bronco had only grunted. He extended a large cloven hoof to help up the drunken pony. The pony took it and rose up with a groan. Than the stallion stood on his hind legs and cracked his back loudly, gazing at the llama guard with a single cracked eye.

“So wha’ tha’ bloody ‘ell are you ‘posed ta be? A sheep? A pony? A shepony? Is that even a thing…?”

“I’m a llama.” Bronco answered flatly to the offensive stallion.

“Shepony, llama, what’s tha bloody difference. We all got hooves, don’ we.”

“Mine are cloven.”

“Was tha’ matter? Still hooves.”

Bronco hadn’t answered. The crazy pony was right, in a way; there was no need to be so xenophobic. They were all intelligent creatures with hooves. Bronco smiled at the drunk for the first time.

“There we go, mate! Loosen up a bi’. M’name’s Porter. Carnegie Porter. Wha’s yours?”

“I am Bronco.”

“Well, Bronco, lemme buy ya a drink. Intra-duce ya ta some of me best mates.”

NOW
Bronco took a tentative nibble of the orange triangle on his plate. He noticed Fluttershy looking to him with concern on her face. Bronco couldn’t let her think he didn’t like the pie!

Bronco took a nice, hearty bite of the pie, chewing it noisily.

Oh Quetzalcoatl, he hated pie.

The textures were all so wrong. The crunchy, tasteless outside. The almost meaty inside that tasted overwhelmingly like raw vegetables. Not like what a pastry SHOULD taste like. And Bronco had sampled plenty of Churro’s delicacies to know what a proper pastry should taste like.

With a forced swallow, Bronco grinned feebly at Fluttershy. She beamed at him and began to talk with Discord. Once she had focused her attention elsewhere, Bronco whirled around and quietly spat the pie into a potted plant. He returned to his pie to see Angel Bunny standing beside his plate, glaring.

Uh oh.

Never before had Bronco enjoyed the amber nectar of bliss that ponies called ‘alcohol’.

Within seconds of taking his first sip of butter whiskey (recommended by Carnegie Porter, of course), Bronco was already slurring and making friends with anypony who looked in his general direction.

“Cor blimey, mate! I’ve never met somepo- er, somellama as lightweight as you!” Carnegie cackled. His marefriend, a feisty red-mane with a name that had something to do with roses, had joined them soon after they entered the bar, and she too was laughing away at Bronco’s tipsy shenanigans.

And of course somepony had to ruin the fun.

“PORTER! ROSE! You two should know better than to give a llama alcohol! Don’t you know they have a low tolerance for that sort of thing?!” A yellow pegasus practically shrieked for all to hear. Carnegie and Rose-whatever-the-rest-of-her-name-was winced as the flying mare swooped down on them, scowling. Meanwhile, Bronco was lying on his back; he was in an entirely different world.

“I see… a horse skeleton… writing a story… and he’s...”

“Aw hell naw,” the skeleton horse growled, “just because you’re drunk, that doesn’t give you an excuse to break the fourth wall.”

“Woah.” Bronco breathed. Then he had passed out. SkelePone doesn’t appreciate interruptions while he is writing.

“So Bronco tell me more about yourself,” the draconequus said to the llama. Bronco was taken aback, but he knew better than to not answer to the demands of Supay.

“I come from the Alpaca Mountains, south of Appleloosa-”

“Bored. Nevermind, tell me how you know Fluttershy.”

“She basically saved me from alcohol poisoning.”

“Really? It is to be expected.” Discord squinted his eyes suspiciously at Bronco. The llama gulped. “Anyways, I’d almost expect Pinkie Pie to save you from something like that. And I can assume the one who encouraged your drinking was none other than Carnegie Porter.”

“I don’t even know who Pinkie Pie is. And, yeah. It was Porter. But he didn’t know any better.”

“Continue your story.”

Bronco woke up in a bed.

His first instinct was to find and keep on protecting his herd, but his brain and body were screaming at his instinct to go buck itself with a cactus. His everything hurt. And the last thing Bronco wanted was to report to Poncho, and inform his superior about his actions. Actions that he could only hazily recall as he stood up from the bed, shakily making his way across the room.

Where was he? This couldn't possibly be the castle.

“Oh no no no… You have to lie back down!” A gentle hoof (not a cloven one, Bronco noticed) guided him back to the bed. Bronco gratefully smashed his muzzle back into the many overstuffed pillows piled at the head of the bed. When Bronco wiggled about to face the kind mare who was helping him get tucked in, he felt his jaw drop.

It was an angel.

Llamas mostly interacted with unicorns and Earth ponies. So meeting a pegasus for the first time left Bronco thinking he had somehow passed into the afterlife.

“A-Am I dead?” Bronco croaked. His temples tensed up and he choked down a howl of pain. Why did his head hurt so much?

The mare giggled.

“Why do you think you’re dead?”

“Because you’re an angel.” Bronco said matter-of-factly. A rabbit appeared out of nowhere and landed on his stomach. Bronco noticed with mild amusement that the rabbit had a scowl on it’s tiny, cute features. It twitched its nose and let out an angry squeak. The mare chuckled and blushed slightly as she scooped up the rabbit, still floating just above the ground. She snuggled the rabbit for a minute before dropping the bunny to the floor.

“I’m not an angel, silly. I’m just a pegasus. My name is Fluttershy; what’s your name?”

“My name is Bronco. I am a llama, and a guardian of my herd.”

When Fluttershy returned to the dining room, Discord and Angel stopped their harassment of Bronco and the three males smiled broadly at the mare as she sat down gracefully. She looked up to see them staring at her. She blushed and hid her face in her low-hanging pink mane.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Just your mane,” Discord noted bluntly. Angel squeaked in agreement.

“I see nothing but beauty.”

Bronco had absolutely no idea what had compelled him to make that remark. Maybe it was his aggravation with the other two. Maybe it was a genuine attraction for her. Maybe he was just a really good friend. It could’ve been the pie. Bronco knew that he shouldn’t have trusted the pie. And he shouldn’t have told Fluttershy she was beautiful.

Not only did the mare’s face turn the same shade as the hair in her mane, but the other males were glaring once more at the llama. He smiled sheepishly as Fluttershy let out a feeble meep.

Bronco felt like the dinner party was suddenly very interesting.

Chapter Twelve: Cha Cha vs. Macarena

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER ELEVEN: CHA CHA VERSUS MACARENA

by SkelePone

“Macarena, just look at these tapestries! There’s a even few with llamas!”

“I see, Cha Cha. But be serious. This may be our only chance to apply.”

Cha Cha and her sister, Macarena, were shuffling about quietly through the vast gallery of the Canterlot Academy of The Arts. They had both filled out student applications and were now patiently waiting for the feeble unicorn mare to return to tell them if they had made the cut or not.

“Macarena, do you think they’ll accept us into the academy? What if they don’t like traditional llama dances?” Cha Cha gasped. She clutched Macarena and slammed her sister’s face into her teal-woollen chest. “What if they’re specist?!”

Macarena rolled her eyes and said nothing. She knew better than to try interrupt her twin’s panicked speech. The only thing that that would accomplish would be a more frenzied slur of Celestia-knows-what.

“Hush, Cha Cha.” Macarena hissed.

“Bu-”

“Hush!”

They walked together in silence before Macarena spoke once again.

“Now. What dance shall we perform? Kullawada? Morenada? Samba? Paso doble?”

Cha Cha suddenly wailed, and Macarena rolled her eyes. Oh boy.

“OH MACARENA, WHAT WILL WE DO/?!”

Macarena slapped her sister. Cha Cha held her cheek where Macarena’s hoof had smacked, looking to her with wide, offended eyes.

“What was that for?” She whined. Macarena felt that if she had to roll her eyes one more time, they’d fall right out of her head. Thankfully, the sisters were interrupted by a huffing and puffing messenger, a griffon of all things.

“Here to… huff huff… escort Miss Macarena and Miss Cha Cha to the… huff huff… auditorium for… judgement.” The griffon sat on his honey-colored haunches, running sharp, yellow talons through the red and blue-streaked crest on his head. The griffon panted for a while more as the twin sisters looked at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir?” Cha Cha asked sweetly. The griffon nodded and promptly fainted. The two llama dams looked at the unconscious griffon in mild amusement.

“Think we should help him…?” Macarena asked. Cha Cha studied the griffon for a minute before shaking her head.

“Nah, he’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure…?”

Cha Cha glanced at the body, and kicked at it tentatively with a cloven hoof.

“Uhhh… eighty-five percent sure. Make that seventy-five.”

At the stand were three ponies that scared Macarena to death. A prim and proper looking grey mare in a bowtie, a bored looking stallion with a flaming red mane, and a beautiful mare with a blue mane and an incredibly bright sequined dress. The three judges sat behind a table, watching as the sisters trotted up onto the stage.

The two had settled on a tango, one that they could perform together. Macarena realized Cha Cha was trembling slightly as an instantly recognizable llama tango song kicked up through the large speakers on each side of the bright stage. They both reared up and locked forelegs, ready to dance.

“Now before you begin,” the bored stallion droned in an extremely nasal voice, “take note that we have only one position open. Not two.”

“W-What?” The twins gasped at the same time, almost dropping each other.

“Only one of you can enter the academy.”

The two sisters let that information sink it. In perfect synchrony, they turned their heads and locked burning blue eyes with each other. Both suddenly burned with competitive spirit.

“I’m going to get that position.” Cha Cha hissed as the music kicked up in tempo. The two began to swing about, getting into rhythm with the beat.

“You?!” Macarena whispered incredulously, “But you get everything!”

Their quiet argument was paused while Macarena spun her sister in a tight circle with a single hoof. When Cha Cha halted and they recommenced their vibrant dance, the teal one began to nag in hushed tones.

“Oh yeah? Well I was born first!” Cha Cha sneered.

“By ten seconds!”

“D-D-D-DROP THE BASS!”

WAH WAH WAH WUB WUB WUBWUBWUBWUBWUB!!!

The song suddenly had a bout of intense bass with heavy kicks and snares. Both sisters stopped in a panic, almost falling to the wooden floor of the stage. Instead, they glared angrily together at the white and blue DJ mare all the way up in the stands above. This definitely was not tango music.

WUB W-W-W-WAH WUBWUBWUB WAH!

“Vinyl!” The grey mare shouted back into the stands. “Cut that racket out! This is a recital, not one of your silly rave parties!”

The DJ smiled sheepishly and cut off the heavy basslines she had added to the music. Cha Cha and Macarena, both finally getting back into the rhythm, began their dance again. The judges watched with mild interest. The little fiasco had gone almost unnoticed as the twins began to perform more complex dance steps.

Macarena was struck by a wickedly awful idea. She began to step up her stepping, going twice as fast as the tempo. To her leery amusement, Cha Cha yelped at the sudden boost of speed. Macarena’s twin teetered unstably for a split second, before catching herself and matching Macarena’s pace.

So that’s how it's gonna be? Cha Cha thought to herself. Well, it takes two to tango, sis.

Cha Cha began to perform more wild movements. She caught her sister’s left rear hoof in a barrida, dragging it about in circles while Macarena struggled to remain balanced. They began to corrida; their dance taking them back and forth across the stage in flitting movements.

They began to rapidly change positions; Cha Cha leading them one moment, Macarena leading the next. The judges at the table were notably more intrigued. Even the bored stallion was watching them with wide eyes. Everypony in the room watched with bated breath as the llamas seemingly battled each other with dance.

Suddenly, the duo began to traspie. They rocked from side to side, their dancing suddenly getting much more intense and twitchy. They fell out of tune, the music and the dancing no longer matching up. Now it looked like an honest fight. The guttural growls coming from the llamas didn’t help with things. The two fell apart, landing on their backs before leaping back up in a flash. The judges leapt up from their own seats and tried to stop the fight before it got out of control, but they were too late.

“Arrgh! You always have to ruin everything!” Cha Cha shrieked as the music came to a screeching stop.

“I would’ve won that position if you hadn’t gone and screwed it all up!” Macarena retorted. The red-maned judge tried to get their attention. But the dams were lost in their argument.

“Oh yeah? Well… well… you stink!”

“No, you stink!”

“No, you!”

“No, you!!!”

The two were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. The llama were muzzle to muzzle, glaring into each other’s eyes. The DJ in the back snuck out, not wanting to get roped into breaking up a fight with a pair of llamas. She’d heard rumors that they had fangs. And she didn’t want to stick around to see if they were true.

Cha Cha and Macarena were on their haunches now, slapping at each other pitifully with their forehooves; their faces pointing away from each other and screwed up into shut-eyed scowls.

“Oye, cut that out!” The stallion bellowed, but his protests went unheard.

“Please!” The classy grey mare added.

The stylish mare shook her head in disappointment, and turned to walk out of the auditorium.

“Sapphire?! Where are you going?!” The stallion called to Sapphire Shores as she help her nose aloft and stormed from the room.

“I don’t know about you, but I definitely don’t want anypony - or anyllama for the matter, who acts like that in my school. Come on, Mozart. Let’s go.”

The stallion, Mozart, looked torn as he looked from Sapphire to the fighting llamas. They were now on the ground, rolling around and biting at each other. He gazed at the grey mare with big, pleading eyes.

“Go on,” she said, irritably, “I’ll handle them.”

“Thanks, Octavia. Tell us how it goes. And don’t let them down too hard.” He suggested, casting a cautious look at the snarling llamas. “They might not take it so well.”

Octavia nodded and watched the two leave the room hurriedly and glanced to the stage.

This wasn’t going to be fun.

Cha Cha and Macarena sat together in silence at the back of the taxi coach they had called in.

They were on their way back to Ponyville, to the cottage that Poncho had apparently bought while they were away. The two knew they should be glad they had a home to go to. But they couldn’t be happy.

Especially when they had been rejected.

Cha Cha shot a glare at her sister. Macarena didn’t notice; she was too busy sulking, facing out the coach’s window. Cha Cha felt her heart soften. She hated seeing her sister like this.

“Listen… Maca… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted so much like a cria-”

“No,” Macarena sniffled, “It’s my fault. I was the one who started the fight.”

“But-”

“No, Cha Cha. You should’ve gotten that spot at the academy. I wasn’t being very fair, and I took the opportunity of a lifetime from you.”

“Maca… no… it’s okay. Really. And you should’ve gotten that position, not me. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

The twins sat in awkward silence for awhile, both lost in their own similar thoughts.

“Hey, Macarena.”

“Yeah?”

“One good thing about not going to that academy,” Cha Cha smiled at her sister, “at least we can still dance together, instead of alone. Right?”

Macarena beamed.

“You’re right.”

“Sisters?”

“Sisters.”

They hugged.

Author's Note

Sorry it took so long for a chapter so short. I got such a huge stream of ideas for stories all of a sudden, and none of them could be used in the story. :derpytongue2:

Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.

Oh yeah, next chapter is Mama's chapter (whoopee.). I want an editor, too. So if you feel like editing for the next chapter, shoot me a message or leave a comment. I'm online every day, so I'll see it.

Deuces.

~SkelePone

Chapter Nine: Rico The Crusader

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER NINE: RICO THE CRUSADER
by SkelePone

Rico limped as fast as he could.

His hind legs screamed in pain whenever he applied too much pressure to them. His gallop was restricted to that of a hasty waddle. He had been born that way. An uncommon birth defect, yes. But it wasn’t rare. His parents were gatherers for the herd, collecting berries and roots for eating and potions. When they had birthed a defect, they had been so disappointed. He would never be able to gather. He was too noisy when he walked. He was too… imperfect. He was too slow.

Thankfully, the fillies he was chasing weren’t in any hurry. Even if they changed direction few minutes.

Rico hobbled after the fillies, wheezing and gasping for breath. He wished Pepe was here. The green Pack llama would scream something ridiculous like ‘HIS NAME IS JOHN CENA’ and then carry Rico all the way to those fillies. But of course, he had left behind his strange friend. And now, he was tiring out far faster than he would have if he had just called to them. Think back on that, Rico realized how foolish he had been. Running across Ponyville. What a stupid little cria he was.

Gasping for air, he said a naughty word that he had heard Bonita call Poncho under her breath when she had thought none of the herd was listening. He knew he probably shouldn’t say that word, even if no llama or pony was around to hear him, but he was so frustrated he could scream.

If only he wasn’t so out of breath. He stumbled to the ground, resting his painfully curved legs on the street.

To make his predicament worse, the thick layer of clouds above the town began to rumble. It was going to storm any minute now. Terrific. How he wished that Pepe was still with him…

“Rico?”

The cria looked up in surprise at a giant llama who had somehow snuck up on him. Bronco’s light blue wool stood out against the darkening skies as Rico stared up at him from where he sat upon the ground.

“Bronco? What are you doing here?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Bronco rumbled, “standing about when it’s about to start raining. Come, we don’t want you catching pneumonia. I understand Vicuña is experienced with healing wounds, but we best save him the trouble of crafting an amulet and brewing a potion, eh?” Bronco lifted up the cria and used a cloven hoof to help the scrawny little llama onto his back.

“So what were you doing out here?” Rico asked as they bounded along. A light drizzle misted over them as they wandered the empty streets.

“I was… visiting a friend.”

Rico was surprised.

“You’ve made a friend here already?”

“Well, yes. I suppose so.”

“Who is it?”

Bronco was silent. Rico felt he may have tread a little into Bronco’s personal business. The little llama’s flappy ears drooped low, and he pouted. The stocky guard llama glanced at the youngling on his back and saw the cria’s pitiful expression.

“A mare. Her name is Fluttershy. She’s been… teaching me…”

“Teaching you?” Rico was confused. What could a Guard want to learn from a pony?

“I plan on making a change of profession.”

“Wait. What? You don’t like being a Guard?”

Bronco sneered, but Rico couldn’t see it. Rico could hear the bitterness in Bronco’s voice, though.

“Never have. My papa and my mama were guards. So I became a guard. You see how it works? But here… in the land of ponies… I don’t need to guard anymore. And if I’m not guarding, I’m doing nothing. So I decided to find some other more fulfilling career.”

“What were you going to do?”

“I wanted… I want… ugh. It’s stupid. Don’t worry about it.” Bronco said in gruff tones. Rico’s curiosity got the better of him.

“You can tell me. I won’t laugh. Honest!”

Bronco cast a doubtful look at the piggybacking cria. Than the guard shook his head and let out a snort.

“I want to take care of animals.”

“That sounds fun.”

They went on in silence. The rain began to pour a little harder as a wind kicked up. Rico shivered and hugged Bronco tighter. He was covered in a light brown wool that was plenty thick, but it wasn’t as thick and warm as Bronco’s wool. The goliath let out a grumble as a blast of wind pushed the two back. The storm was really raging now.

Rico accidentally let out a squeal when lightning flashed above them. It never rained this badly in the Alpacas.

After what had seemed like ages, Bronco and Rico walked up to a cottage far on the outskirts of Ponyville. But it wasn’t the llamas’ house. Bronco knocked on the door and it was answered by a very, very nervous yellow pegasus.

“Oh, Bronco! Oh my goodness, and you must be Rico! Oh dear oh dear oh dear!”

Before Rico knew what was going on, he was scooped up by the mare and spun about into her house. He heard Bronco stifle a chuckle as the mare snuggled him to get him warm. Although Rico appreciated it, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be hugged and kissed when he saw who else was taking shelter in the yellow pegasus’ house.

The three fillies he had seen earlier were giggling at the spectacle. Blushing, Rico pulled himself off of the mare.

“Fluttershy, let the cria go make some friends. He’s made out of hardier stuff than you’d think.” Bronco looked to Rico with a raised eyebrow while the pegasus named Fluttershy placed him gently on the ground.. “Well? Why don’t you go make some friends, Rico.”

Rico nodded and limped cautiously to the giggling fillies, who had just noticed that the cria male was heading right for them. Bronco and Fluttershy left the room together, chatting like they were good friends. Rico took a moment to wonder how long Bronco had been coming over to Fluttershy’s cottage. The big, intimidating guard was the last llama Rico had expected to want to learn how to care for animals. But Rico did notice there was a vast number of various creatures slithering, flapping, and hopping across the room.

The three fillies watched with great interest as Rico slowly limped over to where they sat on the sofa. When Rico sat with a sigh on the loveseat opposite of the couch, he was surprised by a yellow Earth pony filly, with a red mane with a rather ridiculously large bow perched in it, who decided to plop right down beside the quaking cria.

“Howdy! Ah’m Apple Bloom. What’s yer name?”

“Rico.” The llama murmured shyly.

“Are you a llama, too? Like Bronco?” A white unicorn filly asked, sauntering up to sit on the other side of Rico. He felt like the loveseat was suddenly getting very crowded.

“What’s up with your legs?” An orange pegasus filly demanded, poking a curious hoof at Rico’s curved hind legs. He yelped in pain and withdrew them, hugging them close to his body. The orange filly winced and shied away. “Sorry…”

The unicorn and the Earth pony, Apple Bloom, glared at the pegasus and looked to Rico with concern. Rico felt his face flush with embarrassment. He had to figure out how to bring their attention away from his defect.

“S-So… what’s your names?” He asked, gesturing a cloven hoof to the unicorn and the sulking pegasus.

“I’m Sweetie Belle! And Miss Rude over there is Scootaloo.” The white unicorn chirped, suddenly wrapping Rico in a hug. “Your wool is soooo sooooft…”

“Really? Lemme feel it!” Apple Bloom hugged Rico from the other side. “Wow! He’s like a big ol’ teddy bear!”

Rico felt uncomfortable at first. But then he realized he liked it. He had never really been hugged before. Rico kind of liked the idea of sharing his warmth with others. Rico closed his eyes and snuggled in as the fillies sighed in content. They sat together like that for several minutes before Rico realized that somepony in the room wasn’t as happy as the other three.

Rico cracked an eye open to look at the orange pegasus, sitting alone in the floor. She was facing away from them, pawing a hoof at the soaking wet carpet. Rico swore he heard a grumble that involved ‘dictionary’ and ‘apple dweeb’. She seemed upset. And Rico wasn’t going to have any of it.

Rico shook off the fillies. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle gasped and fell towards each other, knocking one another comically in the head.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

Rico waddled over to the pegasus. She hadn’t noticed him. He wrapped his cloven hooves around her and pulled her into a surprise hug.

“What are you doing?” Scootaloo demanded. Rico flinched but didn’t let go.

“Hugging you.”

“Why?”

“Um… It’s cold?”

She didn’t reply. Rico let go of her and made his way back to the loveseat.

“Sorry… nevermind.”

Rico was suddenly tackled by an orange blur and realized that Scootaloo was lying on top of him. Suddenly, Rico let out a wheeze as another pair of weights slammed into him, making a big pony pile in the middle of the sitting room floor.

“Rico?” Apple Bloom called from the top of the pile.

“Yes?” Came his muffled reply.

“Do llamas get cutie marks?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“I was gonna ask if you’d like to be a Cutie Mark Crusader.”

Rico struggled to turn around and face Apple Bloom, but eventually he just gave up with a half-irritated, half-amused sigh.

“What’s a Cutie Mark Crusader?”

“It’s kinda hard to explain.” Scootaloo piped up.

“A Cutie Mark Crusader is a foal who can’t find their cutie marks, so they work together to try find them!” Sweetie Belle explained.

“Find your cutie marks?” Rico noticed they each had blank flanks, as opposed to every other pony he had seen thus far. “Did you lose them?” He asked in wonder. The three fillies laughed at that. Why was that funny? It was an honest question.

“No, silly.” Scootaloo snarked. “Everypony spends their whole foalhood searching for their cutie marks. Because when you earn them, that means you finally have a meaning. A purpose in life. What the hay do llamas do when they’re young?”

“One, little llamas are called crias. And two, we just try to survive.”

“Survive?”

“Llamas don’t have houses and stores and things like that. We don’t have hospitals. If a llama gets hurt, we have to get a shaman to help us. And llamas are always getting eaten by monsters. That’s why we had to leave the mountains. Too many llamas were getting eaten. A few of my friends, a llama who helped take care of me.” And my dad, Rico thought to himself. He’d better keep that information private.

The three fillies were silent. Rico felt like they were all thinking.

“Well, you can still be a Crusader. How’s about it, Rico?”

Before Rico could reply, he was interrupted by a heavy masculine voice. Bronco.

“Rico. What in Inti’s name are you doing?”

Chapter Thirteen: Matchmaking, With Mama

LLAMAS
a drama

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: MATCHMAKING, WITH MAMA

by SkelePone

Mama the llama isn’t exactly what you would call the most exciting one in the household.

That position was possibly taken by Pepe Fouchan. Or Vicuña. Or maybe even Poncho.

Mama observed the fussing leader as he toddles about the kitchen, ordering the moving ponies and a grouchy Bronco on where this and that and who knows what else goes. Then again, Poncho was pretty dull.

Mama chuckled from her spot on the rocking chair as a shiny new toaster oven slipped out of the pegasus mover’s grip and landed with a solid thud on Poncho’s head. The elderly dam honestly expected to hear a hollow sound come from Poncho’s skull, but instead her weakened ears were graced by a furious barrage of nagging.

“Aye aye aye, Poncho! Keep whinin’ like that an’ I’m gonna go deaf.” She called with a hoot. Poncho let out a mwa of indignation and scowled at the elder.

“You’re already deaf, you old coot.” He sneered.

“What was that, nieto?” She asked, squinting.

“Nothing, Mama.”

Damn straight. Mama thought to herself with a light laugh. She loved irritating Poncho. He was so easily infuriated; and his reactions were so over-the-top that it was almost impossible to take him seriously. Not that Mama ever tried to.

She hummed the ‘pollitos’ lullaby to herself as she watched the big, strong pony stallions lift heavy boxes and scoot them around. Hey, she was old. She could look at young lads’ flanks all she wanted. Maybe even flirt a little. Every pony and every llama seemed to think she was senile anyways. Mama wasn’t going to correct them either. Being a crazy old lady was fun.

“Hey, Pepe, be a dear and hand me my bottle of cactus wine.” She nicked at the green-woollen pack llama standing idly in the corner. He was obviously day-dreaming, and Mama was curious as to what a brain-dead lunatic like him would be making happy noises about. Her request snapped him out of his reverie, however. He smiled dopily and grabbed the wanted bottle off of the counter and hoofed it over to her.

Mama popped the cork off the bottle and took a generous swig of the wine. She’d have to thank that Carnegie Porter fellow later. It’d been a long time since she last tasted cactus fruit. The cactus used in winemaking had been dying out up in the mountains for some time now. She licked her lips, relishing the sweet syrupy texture. Mama offered up the bottle to Pepe. The green one shook his head and sat down on the floor beside Mama’s rocking chair. She raised an eyebrow but said nothing of it.

Pepe was an odd llama.

“Mama.” Pepe finally said, shocking the elder. She didn’t know that he even knew her name.

“I-I-I- ACK!” Pepe seemingly choked on his own words; and his voice, which had been so composed and normal, reverted back to its original cracked tone, “y u no work, voice?!”

“Pepe, sweetie, are you tryna talk normal?” Mama asked sweetly. She had never really spoken to Pepe before now, but she knew about his troubles with language. He’d been that way ever since he was struck by lightning as a cria.

Pepe nodded and Mama swore she heard a sniffle.

“Pepe, why do you wanna talk normal?”

Pepe shrugged. Mama squinted at the big llama and downed another gulp of cactus wine. Damn the spirits, that was some good stuff.

“Pepe. You can tell me. They don’t call me Mama for nothin’. Come on, spit her out.”

Pepe turned away from Mama but answered in a hushed tone, going unheard from the llamas and ponies working away in the kitchen.

“Forever alone…”

“Forever alone? Don’t say that, hon. I’m sure somellama will find your… problems acceptable.”

Pepe looked at Mama with doubt.

“Wait, what? Do you already like somellama? Lemme guess. Bonita?”

Pepe shook his head.

“Cha Cha?”

He shook his head again.

“Macarena?”

He shook his head a third time.

“Do you… like MALES?”

“NO, nononononono…” Pepe stammered, shaking his head extremely fast.

“So you like… a pony?” Mama asked, peering at the quivering brute sitting on the floor before her. Pepe looked hesitant, but he gave a dejected nod.

“Well what’s stopping you?”

“She- She- GAH!” Once again, Pepe failed to speak normally, and resorted once more to his odd method of communication, “I’m not dank enough to meme…” The male groaned and smacked his head into the side of Mama’s chair. Poncho looked over at them and raised an eyebrow, but went immediately back to ordering around Bronco and the moving ponies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about with memes and dank and what-say-you,” Mama spoke, using her wise grandmother voice, “but if any llama, or pony for the matter, judges you for how you speak and how you act, well… just trust me. They won’t be worth your time and effort.”

Pepe sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the pegasus struggle to lift a fridge all on his own. Then the green llama beamed up at Mama and she couldn’t help but return the smile.

“So I’m guessing,” Mama said, “that you want to learn how to talk normal so you can ask out this special somepony, am I right or am I right?”

“Too spooky for me.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Well, what’s your dam… are female ponies called dams? No… oh yes, mares. What’s your mare’s name?” Mama asked, sipping on her cactus wine.

“Pin-Pinkie. Pinkie-Pinkie Pie. Pinkie Pie.”

“Very good. How about we go into another room? I’ll teach you a thing or two about talking normal.”

Later that evening, Mama and Pepe were standing together outside of Sugarcube Corner.

Mama looked confident. Although that may have been because of all the wine she had guzzled earlier. Pepe looked like he was going to faint, his face pale and his knees quaking uncontrollably.

“Go on,” Mama ushered, pushing Pepe towards the door, “go ask her.”

Pepe gulped but stood stock-still. A trickle of sweat made its way down his temple, and he let out a nervous cough.

“Alright, alright,” Mama snapped, irritably, “let’s go over your lines. What will you say when you see her?”

“Send noodz?”

“Wrong! Again.”

“G G no re?”

“Nope. AGAIN.”

“P-P-Pinkie Pieee… would… you… I herd u liek mudkipz.”

“NO! Come on, you big doof. You almost had it! Try again.”

Pepe grinned sheepishly, but cleared his throat. And, for the first time since his earliest years as a cria, he spoke.

“Pinkie Pie. Would you like to go out sometime?”

Both Mama and Pepe gasped and looked to each other incredulously.

“Pepe,” the elder breathed, “that was perfect!”

“Like deez nuts. Ha! Got eem.”

“That wasn’t so perfect. But I’ll let it slide. Now go go go!” She began to push Pepe through the door into the bakery. There at the counter was a pink mare with a very poofy mane that Mama assumed was Pinkie Pie. Pinkie opened her mouth to excitedly greet her customers, but Mama interrupted her.

“Hello, darling. You must be Pinkie Pie. Pepe’s told me so much about you! Well, he came here to ask you something, so I’ll pop outside for a minute or two.” With that, Mama slipped back outside the door and slammed it closed. The elder smashed her ear into the door, listening closely.

“Heya Pepe! What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“P-P-Pinkie…”

Yes! Mama thought to herself, silently cheering on the green llama. So far so good… keep it up…

“Pie.”

Got her name. Now ask her out!

“W-W-Would you…”

Mama held her breath, her eyes widening. He was going to ask. But wait! Mama was suddenly wracked with worry. What if he somehow screwed up? What if his affliction kicked in and he made a fool of himself?! Poor llama… Mama knew she should stayed inside with him.

“Like to…”

Now Mama was cheering him on once again. He was so close! Just a few more words!

“G-Go… out…”

The elderly dam was tugging at her banana-shaped ear in worry. He was going to screw up. She knew it. Mama could see it now. Pepe would walk out of that door, his poor little heart broken. And it would be all her fault! None of the herd would ever trust her again!

“...sometime?”

Mama felt her heart stop. She coughed and smacked a hoof into her chest. Her heart kicked back into action once again, and Mama let out a sigh of relief. So far so good. Now it was time for Pinkie’s response.

“Go out? On a date?” Pinkie bubbled in excitement. Oh no! Mama felt her heartbeat quicken and her throat tighten in fear. She and Pepe hadn’t practiced for a counter-question!

“Wow. Such date. So scare. Plz.”

Mama face-hoofed. Pepe had messed up! Now the mare was never going to… than her heard the mare beginning to giggle.

Pinkie Pie let out a snort and suddenly burst into incredibly obnoxious laughter. Mama dared to crack open the door and peek in, and she was the mare rolling around on the ground. She was laughing at him! The nerve!

“Oh Pepe,” Pinkie finally said, panting as she pulled herself up off the ground, “you’re so funny. A date would be super! What time were you thinking? I work on weekdays and I spend some time with my friends on weekends. You know, saving Equestria, defeating evil ghostie goos, and fun stuff like that. Maybe sometime at night. When I’m not busy. Oh no, are you available at night? Do you work with your bossy leader stallion Poncho or what’s his name?”

Mama felt her head spinning. By the spirits, that mare was talkative. Mama decided that she’d better sneak off. Before she got a migraine.

Pepe was doing well enough on his own.