And we’re back! If you’re just tuning in, this is RFC 167.5, where the talk is always hot. Now Buck, you were saying something about a princess coming to town?
You got that right, Voce. But not just any princess, this regal royal is brand spankin’ NEW!
NEW?!? There hasn’t been a new princess in… well, centuries!
You’re not hearing things folks, this is the real deal. We have photographic evidence that-
Radio, Buck.
…I knew that. Uh, ANYWAY, yes, she does have the whole wings/horn combo. Not to mention that she’s a real cutie to boot.
Wow, talk about bang for your buck. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that she’s touring Equestria for her post-coronation ceremony?
Exactamundo, Voce. Filly, that brain of yours is just too good.
Aww, Buck. Still too old for me.
Eh, was worth a shot. So ANYWAY, our new Princess of Friendship-
I love her already.
HAH. The princess will be coming here on July 12, exactly eight days from now. The city council has already started prepping for her arrival. Floats, parades, endless traffic…
Not to mention the inevitable riot…
But hey, new princess.
Say, we’ve been doing all this talk about her, but we don’t even know her name yet!
Ahh, I knew I was forgetting something. Her name is-
Trip brushed her earphones out of her ears. Something loud, annoying, and consecutive just--
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
“Just great,” she groaned. “REAL good timing.” She pushed the boombox off her belly and kicked the sheets off her legs.
Trip could feel her muzzle scrunching up. She hated being interrupted. If interruption had a face, she would punch it, then write "YOU SUCK" on its forehead with permanent marker.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
"Just a MOMENT, PLEASE!" she yelled.
THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP
Of course. Why did I even bother?
Her scrunching intensified as she neatly folded her earphones and returned them to their box on her dresser. Stepping carefully over the mattress, Trip stalked out of her drab pink-grey room and sauntered over to the front door. She waited for it to knock again; anypony who showed up to your apartment uninvited at ten in the evening probably didn't have the best of intentions.
THUMP--
A black hoof stabbed through the air above Trip's head as the door flew open. Had she been a pony of normal stature, it would've hit her square in the muzzle.
Trip looked up (as she did for most ponies) at the intruder who murdered her T time.
The stallion was tall. Very tall and very slender. Trip noticed that he wasn't really black; he was merely wrapped head to hoof with black cloth.
"Halloween isn't for another five months, buddy," said Trip. The figure didn't move. He merely stared at here. Or at least, Trip thought he did; the cloth covered his eyes. If he had any.
"You need anything, or...?" Trip wasn't a scaredy pony, but the way that he just stood there, still as a photograph, looking at her with his nothing...
Then the blackness moved towards her, swallowing her vision in its vastness.
Trip yipped and covered her eyes, like a puppy in a thunderstorm. When she opened them again, the stallion in black was gone.
"Hey!"
The little pony looked around the corridor, eyes full of rage, face scrunching up into a black hole. Nothing but white plaster and gray tiles for yards. Well, except...
A suitcase. A pure black, hard leather business suitcase, gold trimmed, standing upright exactly where the stallion in black had been. It wasn't a particularly new suitcase; the handle had chunks taken out of it, and the leather was peeling off like snakeskin. But the gold, oh that gold trim, was as bright as the sun itself. Trip's eyes widened, taking in all its light.
Clearly, that *creep** meant to give me this,* thought Trip. But why?
She stared at the suitcase for two seconds before deciding she didn't particularly care.
Free stuff is free stuff, Mama Doub had said. You gotta take whatchu can get, little filly, else you won't make your way in this world.
"Oh Mama," said Trip to herself. "If only you were here now... You would've pounced on this case the second you saw it."
Gripping the handle very delicately between her incisors, Trip dragged the suitcase backwards into her apartment. In her excitement, she hadn't bothered to look behind her, and consequently, caught her rear hoof on the snag in the white sun-patterned carpet.
Had it been anypony else, they would've merely fallen on their rump, uninjured. But this particular pony was Trip, and the universe simply could not resist.
The hoof tore into the old, flimsy carpet, cutting a hole right through and partially lifting it from the floor. The lower half of the leg sunk inside; Trip then proceeded to panic.
Nononononono NO NO NOT AGAIN WITH THIS--
She struggled to pull her leg out, but each twist and tug ripped even more holes, tangling it further. Trip leaped forward with her remaining limbs, finally ripping free. But in doing so, she kicked the suitcase out of her teeth, sending it flying, then bouncing off the door.
Pony and case hit the ground at the same time. Trip scrunched in pain for the both of them.
There goes my record... Trip licked around her mouth, checking for each tooth. All were in place. She sighed in relief, then again in exasperation.
"Days without incident: zero."
Trip placed weight on the carpet draped hindhoof experimentally. Feeling no pain, she slowly got up and went to inspect the suitcase.
"Doesn't look damaged." Trip picked it up with her teeth again, about faced and walked properly forward. Trotting between the beat-up red couch and broken television set that technically qualified as a living room and past the tiny electric stove next to the sink that technically qualified as a kitchen, the little pony tossed the case onto the round wood table that technically qualified as a dining area, one just a little too tall for somepony so short.
Pulling up her normal, average-sized chair for average ponies that was quite clearly and absolutely NOT a high-seat whatsoever, Trip scrambled to its top and sat down. She took the case in her fetlocks and flipped it so the lock was facing her.
"Weird."
The frame surrounding the lock was gold like the rest of the trim, but the cylinders for the combination were all different colors, and there were six of them. From left to right, they were purple, sky blue, orange, pink, yellow, and white. Instead of numbers, they used symbols that Trip had never seen before, comprised of shapes she found difficult to describe.
She touched a hooftip to the pink cylinder and nearly blacked out.
"Oww. My head... please don't be a concussion..." Trip put both hooves to her temples, rubbing profusely. "Just sleep it off, Trip, sleep it off."
She pushed the case away and climbed off her chair, taking care to go down head last. She staggered to the hallway, making for the--
BRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING
"Right in the EAR!" screamed Trip. The wall phone, mounted in between the hall mirror and bedroom door at just the right height for an average pony, had been the cause of at least five separate "incidents" in the five months she had been living in the apartment. Since it hadn't been a problem for anypony else, the landlady seemed keen on leaving the damned thing alone.
Trip lifted the receiver from its hook. There's only one pony who would call this late.
"Hello?"
"TRIP!!!"
The ear AGAIN... thought Trip as she flinched away from the phone. "Yes, Ruple?"
"You would not buh-LIEVE what happened today! So I was workin' the shop as usual when these three guys came in, all shady-lookin', wearin' trenchcoats and stuff, they walk up to me and I was gonna take their order right, but then one of 'em breaks out this can o' Cool Whip--"
"Ruple, hun, slow--"
"I was about to tell 'em 'no outside food' and all that, but he takes the can and sprays my--"
"RUPLE!"
"Yeah, Trip?"
"What happened to the shop, and is Daddy okay?"
"Shop's fine, just a little sticky. Dad's all riled up, though. He's at the station right now, givin' those 'terrorists' a piece a' his mind."
Trip chuckled. "What's he gonna say? 'Youse guys... man. Man, I hate... ugh...'"
Ruple burst out laughing in her signature machine-gun giggle. "That is SO mean; I'm telling Dad."
"Oh, he loves me too much to care."
"True that. So, how's life? Makin' it big in the big city yet?"
And there it was, the question of the night. Ruple meant well, and Trip knew it, but living up to your own expectations was much harder with your little sister asking for daily reports.
"I'm... getting there. I'm the sous chef now, or the equivalent, at least."
"Please tell me you're not still working at that kiddie pirate joint."
Trip's face was just itching to scrunch. "I-it's a decent restaurant! I get to make my OWN dishes!"
Ruple's facehoof was almost audible. "Your own PIRATE-themed dishes. Don't you remember what Mama Doub always said? 'Don't you ever let anypony hold you back--'"
"'--just 'cause they treat you right.' Yeah I remember. But getting this job was hard enough; I don't think my savings could take the hit."
"Yeah. Okay. Just don't forget what Mama said."
"I won't." Trip held the phone away as she yawned. "Anyway, gotta get to bed, Ruple. We just got a new patissiere and it's my job to show her around. Love you."
"So much. G'night!"
clackity-clack bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuung
clack
