The Care and Feeding of Exotic Sapiants
“What are you laughing at!?” Bon Bon yelled from the kitchen.
“Er, just having a bit of a maniacal laugh,” Lyra shouted from the basement.
“You need more practice,” Bon Bon said, returning her attention to her cooking.
Lyra turned away from the stairs. This was it. Years of research, countless hours toiling away at esoteric magical theory. A weekend spelunking the ancient library of the Castle of the Two Sisters in the Everfree, and a bribe paid to Spike to see Twilight’s own portal. It had all come to this. Tonight she would make a childhood dream reality.
“It’s a pity the weather team canceled that thunderstorm,” she muttered. “A true maniacal laugh should have lightning behind it.”
With a deep breath, she charged her horn. Power flowed, raw thaums gathering at the tip. With one final push the gathered energy was zapped into a mandala laid out on the floor of the basement. The pattern on the floor began to glow. Sparks were shimmering along the hoof-drawn lines. Sound filled the room, white noise to match the blinding white light.
Just when she believed that none of her senses could stand another second, there was a wild rending of space-time at the center of the mandala. With a wild pop that assaulted her ears and a flash of light she could see through her eyelids, it was done.
Taking a cautious step forward, she blinked the after images from her sight. As natural light slowly reclaimed the room Lyra saw a prone figure. With each pace forward, the creature struggled to rise. It finally managed to stand when she was just close enough to touch it with a forehoof.
It stood bipedally.
“Human,” Lyra breathed in a reverent whisper.
“Garble,” the creature responded.
“Awww, you were supposed to speak Equestrian.”
“Arbal-warbal garble,” it said, unintelligibly.
“If you frowned any harder, your eyes would pop out of your ears,” Lyra addressed Bon Bon.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Opened a trans-dimensional portal, and extracted a live human specimen?”
“In our basement.”
“Surprise?”
“No, you don’t get to give me the puppy-dog eyes about this,” Bon Bon said. “I was part of a professional team of cryptoid hunters. It was my job to catch and contain things like this. Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Farbal,” the human interjected.
“Please can I keep him? I will hug him, and pet him, and I will call him...”
“Names can wait. Naming it is less important than trying to figure out what it eats.”
“...how do I do that?”
“I don’t know. Catch and contain was my roll. There were other members of the team to figure that stuff out.”
“Tarbal narbal quarbal.”
“I guess just asking him is out to the question,” Lyra pouted.
“Go see Fluttershy. She might have a better idea of how to figure it out,” Bon Bon said.
“...So, can you look at his teeth to figure out what he eats?”
“Um, teeth aren’t really a good indication of diet,” Fluttershy said. “Most animals have a mix of incisors, canines, and molars, The best way is to examine a stool sample.”
When the two mares turned to look at him, the human said, “Zarbel.”
“How do you make one of your animal friends defecate?” Lyra asked.
“I don’t. If i need to examine a stool sample, I just follow them around until they do it themselves.”
“Karbal.”
“I think this might take a while,” Lyra said, “and will probably be very disgusting. Are you sure you can’t just look at his teeth and guess?”
“No...”
“Flitter recommended you.”
Lyra was standing in Canterlot’s most unusual shop. Powerful spellwork did its part to conceal the store’s wares from the general public. Vision and scent were blocked from any that didn’t want to see or smell what was on offer. Knowing she had to enter the greatest butcher shop in Canterlot she had cast a filter spell over her own muzzle. She was beginning to suspect it wasn’t very good.
“Ah, the pegasus that has a kitten with a taste for shark,” Gerald Gristle said. “I must tell her how little I appreciate this kind of business.”
“What? I’m a paying customer...”
The Griffon raised himself to his full height, and flared his wings. “Paying customer?” he shouted. “Oh yes, you will pay. I’ll have you know that I supply all the local carnivorous embassies. My wares grace the finest carnivorous establishments for miles around. I even supply the Castle for their diplomatic events.
“And your pet has taken my finest stock and shoved it through a mincer to make burger patties. Not just that, but he has cooked them until they were nearly charcoal and slathered them in a sauce made from only tomato paste and vinegar. I suspect that it is completely incapable of tasting anything.”
“Pargal varbal snarbal,” the human shouted from the cool room behind the counter.
“Don’t forget the sausages! Sausage making is an art. Taking the least palatable parts of a kill and seasoning them is the work of a skilled artisan. Your hairless monkey has just poured a meat puree into the nastiest casings I could provide. Now he intends to boil them. Boil! Nothing good ever came from sausages that were boiled. No doubt to be drowned in more of his tomato sauce...”
“How much do I owe,” a dejected Lyra asked, “and I’ll get out of your feathers.”
“It tried to look under my tail!”
Lyra tried to recall if the grey pegasus had ever lost her temper before.
“My daughter was right at my side! How am I supposed to explain what was happening? How do I convince her that the world is a safe and happy place when your unlicensed monster tried to grab my intimates?”
“I’m sorry...”
“Put a leash on it, before I report you to the mayor!”
Lyra found the door slammed in her face. With a heavy heart she trudged back home. She walked down the stairs to survey the mess that was her basement. The air was musty and stale. The floor covered in wadded up tissues. She picked up a random sketch book from the pile next to the human’s bed. Thoughts of communicating via pictograms were dashed when the only thing he was interested in drawing was genitalia. She flipped through the book, each page showing a mare in a pose that would have an anatomy student weep at the impossibility.
Flipping one last page, Lyra dropped the book in shock. “Bon Bon? You drew Bon Bon like some kind of Prench mare?”
“Harbal larbal jarbal,” the human responded.
“No!” Lyra shouted as she charged her horn.
“You sent it back?” Bon Bon nuzzled closer.
“Maybe I didn't say every single little tiny syllable of the incantation. But basically, yeah.” Lyra answered.
“Trust a former cryptoid hunter, we’re better off without it.”
“I guess,” Lyra said. “But my whole life I’ve imagined actually meeting a human. Discussing philosophy, technology, hands, and trousers. Instead I wind up with a pornographer and junk food addict.”
“Cryptoids never turn out the way you were expecting.”
“I guess I should focus my attention on mermaids now...”
Bon Bon groaned.
Author's Note
I must apologise for any spelling and grammatical errors contained above, including the one in the title.
Never try to edit a three-hour crack-fic after pulling an all-nighter...