It's Always Sunny in Fillydelphia: New Location
Author's Note
This story is meant to be a follow-up to the 'Hoofball' incident, though it is not necessary to have read that particular story.
New Location
9:30 AM
On a Thursday
Fillydelphia, Equestria
“Thank you again for accommodating me on this trip, Pinkie Pie.”
“Oh I love traveling with you, Rarity, it’s always fun to see new sights and tour big cities. But, uh … I thought we vowed never to set foot in Fillydelphia again after what happened the last time.
“Well, it was many moons ago since that … shall we say, ‘incident’ … and I refuse to believe that a city with the history and culture of Fillydelphia could only be filled by the type of scoundrels we encountered at that hoofball event.”
“Don’t forget, you promised we could visit the Feedbag Terminal Market! All that food! I can hardly wait!”
Pinkie beams at the thought and starts bouncing excitedly, forcing Rarity to temper her friend’s enthusiasm. “We’ll get there, I promise. But this is a business trip, first and foremost. Trying to find the ideal location for my fourth shop is of vital importance.”
“So, do you have a particular spot in mind?”
“There are a few locations that I’m particularly interested in, but I read about this one place that’s close to the train station. It’s perhaps not in the best of neighborhoods, but it does have a nearby eatery; if that place is high-class and successful, the foot traffic spill-over could prove welcome for at least the first several weeks, before word of mouth can set in.”
“You had me at ‘eatery’. Maybe we could grab some breakfast. Or maybe lunch. Hey, how about brunch? Two meals for one time period!”
The conversation pauses as the two ponies come to a vacant storefront. Next door lies the entrance to what appears to be a seedy bar. Rarity cannot hide her disappointment: “Oh dear, this isn’t a fancy restaurant or café. No, this location simply will not do. Let’s move on.”
“Wait, maybe this place still has some tasty food.”
“Pinkie, I can appreciate a diamond in the rough as much as anypony, but do you really think a place called Trots’ Tavern could have anything worth writing Ponyville about?”
“You never know unless you try!” Pinkie grins broadly, as Rarity shakes her head.
“Oh, very well. I suppose there might be something interesting about this place.”
Before they can enter, the door to the bar swings open as a tall, red pegasus with a black mane and tail carries a trash bag out to the curb. He dumps the bag on the curb and turns to see Rarity and Pinkie. All three gasp in astonishment.
“YOU!”
* * * *
Rarity Finds Another City for her Fourth Boutique.
It’s Always Sunny in Fillydelphia
* * * *
“Macadamia Nut! You work here?” Rarity asks icily.
“Oh hey girls! Long time no see!”
“Not long enough in my mind. Come Pinkie, let us get away from here.”
The two turn to leave, but Macadamia pleads with them to stick around. “Whoa whoa whoa, why such a hurry to leave?”
“You think we both forgot what happened at that hoofball game? Your behavior was beyond deplorable, and I want nothing more to do with you.”
“What, because I threw a drink at you?”
“WE WERE TARRED AND FEATHERED!” Rarity’s horn begins to emit an ominous brightness.
“Technically, it was syrup and discarded food products,” Pinkie corrects.
“Hey, that only happened because your friend here shot a cannon of food at us.”
Pinkie rolls her eyes before responding. “Yeah, that cannon’s only supposed to use confetti-based ammunition. But man, you should have seen the look on your face!” She then starts laughing at the thought.
Rarity turns to her friend. “Pinkie, you’re not helping. The way you say it, it’s like you have fond memories of that day.”
“Well it wasn’t all bad. I mean, sure, we were tricked into eating meat and I got stuffed into my own cannon … but watching Fluttershy just beat down those two? That was hilarious!” Rarity can only gape at Pinkie, momentarily stunned into silence.
“You see,” Macadamia declares, “that whole trip was a bonding experience for us all.”
“I certainly bonded with more than my fair share of apple cores and banana skins.”
“Hey, Charlie and I got as good as we gave. So … what brings you two back to Fillydelphia?”
Rarity sighs. “Well, if you must know, I’m surveying locations for my new boutique.”
“Oh, you’re a fashion designer. Well hey, the place next door to Trots’ Tavern is available. Why not take that?”
“As I was telling my friend here, I don’t think this location would be suitable for an upscale shop such as my own.”
Macadamia is insulted at the charge. “So what are you saying, that I’m horsesh**?”
The profanity shocks Rarity. “MACADAMIA, such language!”
“Hey, sorry, didn’t think you’d be so sensitive. Look, why not come in and say ‘hi’ to the gang.”
“New friends! Yaay!” Pinkie pronks her way into the bar. Rarity sighs again, shakes her head and reluctantly follows her inside; Macadamia follows.
The décor within is nondescript, though not unpleasant. A bar runs along one wall of the establishment, with booths set up along the opposite wall. On the far side from the entrance is a pool table; three ponies are having a conversation. One is a short, gruff, dirt-brown earth pony with little remaining of his charcoal-colored mane; a second is a baby-blue unicorn with a neatly-trimmed ginger mane and tail, roughly the same size as Macadamia; the third is also a unicorn, paler in color and slightly shorter than the second, with a long blonde mane and tail.
“Hey britches,” Macadamia shouts out to the threesome; Rarity again blushes at the profane language. The threesome turn to Mac and the others.
“Mac,” the ginger-maned unicorn replies, “who are these two lovely ladies?”
“Remember that hoofball game Charlie and I went to, where we ran into a group of girls that got the ‘garbage plate special’? These two were part of that!”
“No sh**, really?” the female companion responds.
“Really now, do you all speak with such rotten language.”
“Oh hey, we got ourselves a proper filly here,” the old earth pony states sarcastically. “All fine and dainty. Mustn’t hurt her wittle feewings!”
“Frank, knock it off.” Mac retorts. “Rarity, say hi to Frank & Beans, Hedonous Donkey …”
“Just call me ‘Dennis’,” the ginger-maned unicorn corrects.”
“… and Sweet Delicious, or ‘Dee’ for short. The four of us and Charlie run this establishment.”
“Running it where,” Rarity asks, “into the ground?”
“Rarity?” Pinkie shakes her head at her friend, who cools off.
“I apologize. I just wasn’t expecting to meet up with Macadamia …”
“You can call me ‘Mac’.”
“… with ‘Mac’ again. But you’re right Pinkie; this really should be a fresh start.”
Dennis walks up to Rarity. “We haven’t been formally introduced, and I for one can recognize and appreciate the finer things and ponies in this world. And you strike me as very refined.”
“Oh. Well, that’s very gentlecoltish of you Dennis.”
“So what does bring you to our humble establishment.”
“FOOD!”, Pinkie replies before Rarity can respond. “So what do you have here? Pretzels? Ice Cream? Cheesesteaks?”
The last option surprises Mac. “I thought you girls were vegan.”
“Well duh. I mean vegan cheesesteaks. Cheese Wiz goes great on anything!”
“I’ve been preaching that to these guys forever!” A tan earth pony with a short black mane and tail ascends from a basement stairwell.
“Hey Charlie Horse! Remember us!”
“How could I forget that day! That was one of the most amazing days of my life! I mean, sure we all wanted to string you up …”
“You did,” Rarity reminds Charlie icily.
“… but hey, memories last a lifetime, right? So hey, welcome back to Fillydelphia!”
Rarity notices a clock, thick with dust, along a wall. “Well as pleasant as this reunion has been, my friend and I really must get back to business.”
“Whoa, you just got here,” Charlie pleads.
“It’s not worth arguing, she just thinks we’re horsesh**,” Mac replies.
“Hey, maybe you and Charlie are horsesh**, but my sister and I set a higher standard.”
“Oh, get off your high horse Dennis!”
“That’s not meant as an insult to you, Charlie, but the truth of the matter is, you and Mac are horsesh**. There’s nothing wrong with that; you have your place in society, just like my sister and I have our places.”
Frank shakes his head. “You and your ego should get a stall.”
Dennis ignores the elder pony and turns to Rarity. “So what business do you have in our town?”
Mac answers for Rarity: “She’s looking for a storefront for her new fancy-shmancy dress shop.”
“You see Mac, that is exactly the type of response that screams out ‘horsesh**’. Now Rarity, I’m sure that I could prove valuable to you in such a search.”
“I’ll come too,” Dee adds. “Beats waiting around in this dump.”
Rarity stumbles with finding a polite way to decline the offer. “Wow … I mean, gee, that really is considerate of you both, but Pinkie and I were hoping to get to the Feedbag before heading back home, and I don’t think there would be time if—“
Charlie interrupts: “Hey, how about I take Pinkie to the Feedbag. I know the best places to get grub; I can show here around.”
“That sounds awesome!”
“I’ll tag along,” Mac adds. “Frank, you’re good here on your own, right?”
Frank snorts derisively. “Yeah sure, leave me out of the festivities again. Whatever!”
“Then it’s settled.”
“Okie-dokie!” Pinkie adds as she hops towards the entrance, with Charlie in tow. “Say, ever taste an actual rainbow?”
“Does multi-colored algae from the river count?”
The conversation continues as they head out the door, with Mac floating behind them.
“All right then,” Dennis observes, “now that the lessers are gone, those of us with class can do some exploring.
Rarity’s smile belies her trepidation at the idea. “Lead the way,” she states through gritting teeth.”
* * * *
Pinkie, Charlie, and Mac stroll through the Feedbag Terminal Market, which occupies the ground floor of a former train depot. Market stalls line the gridlike walkways within the structure, as Pinkie and Charlie pass one booth after another.
“This place is INCREDIBLE!!! Not even Canterlot has anything like this! There’s so much great stuff here, I don’t even know where to begin!”
“Well, the food isn’t too bad here,” Charlie deadpans. “Very overpriced, I think, and there’s a lot of other places you can go for real quality.”
“Charlie, you’re kidding me. This place has it all. Oooo, soft pretzels!”
Mac flies up from behind, carrying a tote bag in his mouth before setting it on the ground. “Hey, look what I found.”
“Aw, no way! They had those in stock? Dude, that’s awesome!”
Pinkie looks into the bag, filled with wadded balls of salted pork. Mac and Charlie immediately start devouring the contents, while she queasily looks on.
“Gee … where do you develop the taste for … *ulp* … other living creatures?”
“Hey,” Mac argues, “other living creatures were put on Equestria to be consumed. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be so damn tasty.” He proceeds to down several more pork balls, fighting off Charlie’s head in the process.
“I prefer my pigs finding truffles.”
“Oh sure,” Charlie adds, “let ‘em be useful a couple times, then let ‘em be useful one last time. It’s win-win!”
Pinkie points to the bag. “I don’t think those pigs won.”
“You know, Frank’s got a whole display here with all sorts of exotic meats. Let’s see what he’s got.”
Mac is about to fly off, but Pinkie grabs his tail. “You know what, I’m not feeling as hungry as I did when I got here.”
“Hey, I hear you girl. I know what you need: a drink from Charlie’s Special Fountain.”
Mac glares at Charlie. “Dude, you are not taking her there.”
“How about you let the filly decide, Mac! C’mon, you’ll appreciate this.”
Charlie turns around and heads back towards the entrance. Pinkie, her appetite long gone, walks after Charlie; Mac floats behind both of them in indifferent pursuit.
* * * *
Rarity, Dennis and Dee stroll past numerous shops and eateries along Bridle Street.
“… you see, we’re the ones responsible for keeping Equestria as great as it is. We have a debt to help those less fortunate make their way in the world.”
“But Dennis,” Rarity counters, “surely you get something in return from those you help. I wouldn’t be half the pony I am today were it not for my friends.”
“Nope. All-giving. Even to my sister here.”
Dee is taken aback by the comment. “Excuse me?”
“Well let’s face it Dee, you’re useless. You bring nothing to our group, and only hang around us because you’re related to me.”
“Oh give it a rest, you pompous ass! I’m the only one keeping us grounded in reality. I’m the heart of the group.”
“No, Dee, you’re the appendix. We’d be better off cutting you out before you break and cause real damage, but we’re just too lazy to bother.”
Rarity is appalled at the volleying insults. “Really now, is this how siblings should talk to each other. I mean, I have the occasional spat with my little sister, but—”
“You have a sister? How old is she?”
Rarity snaps at the query. “She’s a foal, Dennis! Honestly, what would your parents think?”
Dennis responds offhoofedly: “What, Frank? He wouldn’t care.”
“Wait … that old earth pony is your father?”
“Technically, no,” Dee corrects, “but that’s only because our mother was a dam-hor.”
“Oh yeah, complete dam-hor,” Dennis adds.
“But he did raise us, which counts for something.”
“Not much, though.”
Before Rarity can respond further, she comes across a vacancy between an upscale restaurant and a shoe store. Her mind immediately turns back to business. “Oh! Well now, this location could do nicely.”
Dennis eyes the shoe store with apprehension. “Yeah, you probably can do better.”
“Whatever do you mean? This place looks ideal. Ideal size, great location, wonderful neighbors ... I must speak to the owner of the shoe store.”
A silver unicorn mare walks out of the shoe store, levitating a pair of high heels behind her. “Dennis, you scumbag! What’d I tell you about showing your face around here again!”
Dennis acts surprised at the personal attack. “Hey now, what’s with the hostility?”
The mare turns to Rarity. “Who’s this, your newest conquest?”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I really don’t care; if you’re spending time with this son-of-a-jackass, you’re no better than the rest of the gutter trash who’d hang out with the likes of him. Now beat it!”
“Honestly, I’ve only met this pony earlier today. I just wanted to ask you about—“
Rarity is cut short by the pair of high heels, which begin beating on her head. Unable to plead her case, she flees up the street; Dennis and Dee give chase.
* * * *
Pinkie stares at a still pond of semi-viscous, brown liquid. She looks up at the drainage pipe above the pond, observes the concrete edifices all around her, turns around to see the pathway they took that ended at the pond, then back at the liquid. “Uh, is that even water?”
“It’s wet, isn’t it? And it is darn refreshing!”
“Charlie, what comes out of that drainage pipe?”
“I dunno, but I think that building is some sort of potion factory. All that residue potion goodness gives this fountain a warm glow at night. It really is beautiful.”
“I like looking at rainbows, but I wouldn’t try tasting one again.”
“It’s not just for drinking, you know. One really needs to undergo total immersion to get the full value.”
“Total immersion? You mean—“
As Pinkie speaks, Charlie jumps into the pond; brown liquid splashes into Pinkie’s mouth. As she gags at the amount that ran down her throat, she feels other droplets land on her back; the acid-like quality of the liquid burns small holes through her coat. She attempts to scream, but can only wheeze.
Mac, who had been hovering above the two, swoops down upon seeing Pinkie’s plight. “Holy sh**, dude! What the hay were you thinking!”
“Hey, that happens to everypony the first time. You just gotta build up a tolerance to those early reactions, and then the magic can really set in. Dude, she’s a free spirit; she’ll be fine.”
Mac turns back to Pinkie, who lies on her side while continuing to try coughing out any traces of the brown liquid from her system. Her mane covers her face like thin strings of tangled fiberglass, still reeking of the pondscum. Black blotches dot her body, but she appears too focused on her throat to care.
Charlie trots out of the pond, walks away from the others, and shakes off any excess droplets. He trots back to Mac and Pinkie, who tries to speak.
“hsss … hsss - ptle."
“Aw, no way dude, those guys got all sorts of paperwork, and procedures, and …”
“Dude, just help her up so we can get her back to the bar.”
“Yeah, let’s get some good old-fashioned beer in you; you’ll be good as new.”
Using Charlie as a brace, Pinkie struggles to get back on her hooves. “pff-shnns … psst … dooooo.”
“You know Mac, I think it’s the countryside that’s to blame. All these rural types just can’t survive once they hit the big city.”
“Just help her along while I push.”
* * * *
“… see, all today proves is how tough it is for ponies like us to pick up those who coast along the bottom of our society. I’m sure you must agree with me now, right Rarity?”
Dennis turns to Rarity, who drips green paint from nose to tail; the paint masks the reverse-mohawk manecut, as well as the numerous welts and contusions brought about by the high-heel attack. Through it all, and through gritted teeth, Rarity is able to make conversation.
“I can agree that the lives of those who’ve come to know you are fraught with hardship. How can one pony alienate an entire city?”
“It’s jealousy, Rarity. Some ponies have it harder than others, and they lash out. Terrible thing, really.”
“It’s not the entire city,” Dee corrects. “Just all the mares that Dennis tried to stall up with.”
“Hey, what’s with the word ‘tried’, Dee?”
“Oh yes, they all have such fond memories of their time with you. I’m sure Rarity would attest to that.”
“What you say with sarcasm, I state with conviction: they did have fond memories. Maybe they don’t want to remember the good times, but that’s not my problem now, is it?”
Not today, it wasn’t. “Look,” Rarity says, “I can see your little tavern up ahead. All I want to do now is grab my friend Pinkie and be on my way.”
The comment irks Dennis. “Oh … huh. That’s it then. We go out of our way to show you around, and all you can think about is ditching us?”
Rarity stops and glares at Dennis. Another drop of paint falls from the remains of her mane.
“I gotta say Rarity, I thought you were different. This really hurts.”
“Oh, shush.”
Rarity walks on ahead, as Dennis vents to his sister.
“She shushed me. Seriously, you know how I hate shushers!”
“I know, right? Well, no good deed and all that crap.”
Upon reaching the entrance to Trots’ Tavern, Rarity lets herself in. She is surprised to see Pinkie sitting at a booth, her head face-down on the table, with three empty bottles, burn marks on her body, and a tangled mane that covers her face like muddy pasta.
“PINKIE PIE! What in Equestria happened to you?”
Pinkie picks her head up, her eyes closed, and answers in a raspy voice: ”I’ve … been … to Tartarus … and back.”
“Have you … have you been drinking beer?”
“Root beer,” Mac announces from behind the bar. “Some ponies just aren’t ready for Charlie’s dietary fantasies.”
“Set me up with one of those.” Rarity walks over to the bar, where Mac places a bottle and shotglass. She pours a shot, gulps it down, then pours another shot.
“You look like horsesh**,” Mac observes.
“I feel like … that.”
“Wow. Even after whatever you went through, you still show restraint. I gotta say, I’m impressed.”
“One must be true to one’s self, no matter the circumstances. This? Yes, this is a bit much. But nothing that time and a long bath won’t remedy.”
The rattling of empty bottles causes Rarity to turn around; Pinkie is standing upright, still disheveled from the events she experienced. The sight of her friend’s plight forces a smile out of Pinkie’s visage.
“What happened to you?”
“We can compare notes on the train ride back, if you’re up for the conversation.” She turns back to Mac, pours another shot of root beer and downs it, then leaves a large gem as payment. The offer of generosity surprises Mac.
“No, no charge for either of you. It looks like you’ve overpaid for the day as it is.”
“I cannot change who I am, though my friend and I must be going now. You OK to walk, Pinkie?”
“I can manage.”
As the two head for the door, Dennis and Dee walk in.
“What’s with the shushing,” Dennis starts, before Dee notices the gem on the bar.
“Whoa, Mac, where’d you get that gem?”
“Gem?” Frank races in from a back room and eyes the gem at the bar. “That goes straight in the safe in the office.”
“Hey now,” Dee interrupts, “why do you get to keep the gem?”
“I own the place.”
“You’re a part-owner Frank,” Mac corrects. “We all have a share of this place.”
The foursome begin to argue about the gem. Rarity turns to Pinkie and shrugs. “I guess you can’t change who they are, either. Let’s just go.”
* * * *
“How’s your throat, dear?”
“Better. The root beer definitely helped.”
The two sit in silence for a spell as the train carries them back to Ponyville.
“Green really isn’t your color, Rarity.”
“Seems to me that brown isn’t your color.”
The two chuckle, then go quiet for another spell.
“Rarity?”
“Yes, Pinkie?”
“Why does every trip to Fillydelphia result in disaster?”
“I couldn’t tell you.” Rarity gazes out the cabin’s window, watching the scenery pass by. “Perhaps days like this exist to help us appreciate all that we have back in Ponyville.”
“So does this mean no Carousel Boutique in Filly?”
“Not now, anyway. But I stand by my belief that there are many wonderful ponies in this city ...”
Rarity’s thoughts turn to Dennis one last time.
“… it’s just a shame that we never seen to meet any of them, I guess.”