Princess Celestia Side Swipes a 2001 Dodge Grand Caravan

by ROBCakeran53

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Other, Princess Celestia, Slice of Life, Dark, Human
Length: 4329

Celestia goes out for a walk, then gets hit by a mini van.

Out for a pleasant walk through the woods, Princess Celestia takes a break from dealing with Earth politics and finds herself exiting next to a long, black road. As it just so happens, a native comes by and hits her with roughly two tons of steel, plastic, and glass.

Luckily, the vehicle's occupant carries lots of napkins and bandages.

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Now translated into Chinese thanks to Nova Twinkle!
Now translated into Spanish thanks to SPANIARD KIWI!

This story is based on true events. Written for my good friend, Admiral Biscuit, as a commission/payment for a set of rear wheel bearing puller heads for a slide hammer. He also pre-read and edited it, because that's how he rolls.

Box of Shame second position 12/25. Bah humbug.

Published 2018-12-25 02:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-12-25 02:30:01 UTC

Sport

The impact was so sudden. The driver didn’t even have a moment to touch the brakes. It had been such a quiet drive, too. Cloud cover blocked any moonlight or stars and the barren road lacked any street lights. Only the occasional mailbox signified that life did exist in the country.

He’d only taken his eyes off the road for just a moment to adjust the volume on the radio, (Dragon Force, Through the Fire and the Flames) when he felt the impact. Hitting the brakes caused the antilock braking system to engage, preventing him from spinning out as he also turned towards the side of the road.

Forgetting the small wonder that the ABS actually worked at all, he began to assess what had just happened. It was evident now that his passenger side headlight was out: only one beam of light shone into the darkened expanse around him. He looked to the side view mirror on his right, only to see it nothing obvious laying behind him.

He quickly turned on his hazard switch, noticing the amber bulb had not gone out when the headlight had, and stepped out of the vehicle. The road was empty, devoid of any other form of traffic.

He’d stopped just before a long winding driveway; the house at the end wasn’t visible through the thick brush and trees lining the ditch.

He couldn’t be exactly sure of his location. He was somewhere between the towns of Cohoctah and Byron. His phone would probably tell him, but it was inside the van still, probably went sliding off his passenger seat and onto the floor.

He surveyed the damage on his van as he walked towards the back. It didn’t look like any serious damage, other than the plastic guard covering the rear bumper was now dragging, torn off from behind the wheel well.

Sighing, he mentally ran through ideas on how to fix the problem as he looked around in the dark to spy what he hit. More than likely, it was another deer, popping out of the woods at the worst of times. It was the first time he’d hit a deer with a minivan.

He could always blame hunting season for such things, since that was the only time of year this happened to him. However, blaming a deer darting into the road in the middle of the night on a hunter who’s waiting for dawn to see it… well, there was an analogy there somewhere, but his heart wasn’t into thinking it up.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a flashlight, surveying the the road, shoulder, and ditch for any form or body. He hadn’t hit it head on, and usually deer were quite resilient to a mere bump. If anything, his van probably took the bulk of the damage.

Casting the LED’s beam towards the forest edge, he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly realized the flaw. Deer don’t answer back, or talk at all. Maybe on that other planet slash universe they talked about on the news, but not here.

Still, the silence of the night mixed with the anxiety of his uncertain location made him work his jaw. He was already coming off of his adrenaline high, his breathing more under control and twitching of his hands had stopped.

“Oh deer, are you there?” he said, expecting nothing.

However, the voice of a female answered, making his blood run cold. “Yes, just a moment. I need to compose myself.”

The man stopped dead in his tracks, light shining along the road edge.

Oh shit. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Suddenly, panic shot through him. Heart rate increased, he began sweating, already dreading police interviews, paperwork, and possible jail time. Now he had to go find his cellphone, call 911 and report he’d hit a late night jogger, or biker, or whatever-er he’d hit.

In his flashlight’s glare, a regal, white figure stepped out of the tall brush of the ditch, her hooves clopping with every third one quieter than the others. His mental panic grew as she approached him, blowing a bit of her disheveled mane from her face.

She squinted at him, the man’s light shining in her face. Quickly he clicked his flashlight off, the only light illuminating them the blinking red of his hazard lights.

Both biped and quadruped spoke simultaneously.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying close enough attention and I-”

They stopped, studying one another, the human far more panicked than the equine before him.

In the dim moonlight, she could easily be mistaken for a deer at a glance. With hooves and a long muzzle, it wasn’t a far stretch to assume such. Up close and personal, however, she was a lot taller and broader.

Also, deer are not almost pearlescent white, wearing golden jewelry that reflected his tail lights, and upon focusing on her face, sporting a rather sizable gash on her cheek.

A pony. This was a pony, like they talked about on the news. How, or why she was here, was anyone’s guess. Was it a she? Sure sounded like a she. It was a female’s voice, and usually females are she’s, but with these crazy times-

“Sir? Are you okay? Did I harm your chariot?”

Brought back to reality, he shook his head. “N-no, I m-mean, uh, yes, yes, I’m uh… fine,” he stammered, then with a cough he tried to compose himself. “You just, uh, did cosmetic damage, from what I can tell. Uh, I have some serious questions right now, but first thing’s first, you’re bleeding.”

The… mare, would be the correct term, gave herself a quick pat down using her hooves and stretch of her wings, quickly discovering the gash on her cheek.

“Oh, how odd, usually my magic would have healed me by now. Your Earth must slow its progress.” She eyed the dab of blood on her golden horseshoe, then with a pleasant smile still on her face, promptly fainted, collapsing onto the side of the road like a sack of potatoes.

The man went forward to catch her, but she was impossible to hold up, and instead went along with her tumbling form. He managed to simply absorb the impact of her head and neck onto the road, laying her face in his lap.

Now the gears in his head clicked in. No longer was this just a “I hit an animal.” The back of his mind even shouted “I hit a sentient, talking animal alien.” No, the foremost thought was “I hit someone.”

Removing his Carhartt jacket, he rolled it up and laid her head onto it. He considered trying to drag her towards the back of his van, but between her size and weight, he doubted he could make her budge. Quickly, he darted for the tailgate, opening it up, allowing the interior lights to dispel the darkness around them.

He began shuffling through the junk, tools, and spare van parts that cluttered the cargo area of the van, looking for something he’d come across at one time and thought it funny to hang onto. Weird, how suddenly he needed it. He found the blue cloth zipper case with a stylized H in white, pulled out of a car on its way to the scrap yard. Opening it, he began looking for the needed items. Bandages, gauze, medical tape, an emergency blanket, and sachets of painkillers.

Giving the ibuprofen a second glance, he noticed the 2008 expiration date, and wondered both if a pony could take such a drug, and would a drug ten years expired have any real effect? If anything was a reassurance, at least the drugs were newer than his van, and the van still worked just fine.

He rushed back over to her. She was just where he’d left her, her head resting (somewhat) comfortably on his jacket. For a moment he worried about any sort of head trauma, possibly a concussion since she fainted. There wasn’t much he could do about it even if, so for now he focused on what he could do.

She had several small cuts, which the band aids would work fine. The larger gash on her cheek, neck, and side (barrel?) would easily use up all the gauze and tape he had.

Thankfully, he was a mechanic, and knew how to improvise.

Rushing back to the van, he opened the glove box, sifting through all the expired registrations and insurance papers that cluttered it, finding a good handful of old McDonald's napkins mixed about. Then back to the drivers side, where he removed the roll of electrical tape he had in the cup holder.

Passing by the medkit again, he also grabbed the small bottle of alcohol he’d initially forgotten. He was so used to hasty repairs on himself, he forgot that not everyone has as good tolerance to pain and infection like he did.

A quick thought ran through his head: Which was better, using the non-sterile napkins to clean, then the gauze to cover, or vice versa? Either way this was not going to look at all professional.

Eventually deciding that the white gauze would match her coat better, he used the napkins with a little bit of alcohol to begin cleaning her worse cuts, causing the mare’s brows to unconsciously scrunch in pain.

The cut on her cheek and neck took up all of the gauze and medical tape the first-aid kit had contained, and he had to use the electrical tape to finish up the neck wound. His previous worries of blending in made no difference, her side gash would need all the napkins, clean shop rags, and blue paper towel he could scrounge in his van. The wounds weren’t deep by any means, but as he looked on he found more: smaller cuts on two of her legs. He also noticed she was missing a golden shoe.

It was probably lost somewhere in the ditch, knocked off by the collision.

The one problem he ran into, was the electrical tape did not like fur anymore than it liked bare skin, and was a struggle to keep on. He had to do multiple layers, crossing the tape onto itself around her neck and legs, which he could move around enough to do so. The gauze on her neck was already bleeding through, but only a tinge, so it would probably be fine.

Probably.

Finally, with the major wounds taken care of, he began to apply the bandaids onto the smaller cuts, still cleaning each one with the small bits of alcohol left. Thankfully, as he cleaned, he found no debris in any of the wounds, except for maybe a little bit of dirt from her tumble into the ditch.

Going through the entire medkit’s band aids, he went for his reserve box he kept in his tool bag. Bright pink, and covered with Hello Kitty characters, he began applying them to the cuts on her legs.

… What, they were cute? Plus he loved it when his co-workers, or better yet, his manager got a cut and didn’t have any band-aids. The look on their faces when he gave them a bright pink bandage with kitties and turtles printed on them was well worth the minor embarrassment of buying them.

Finally, he was done. All his bandages were used up, he had a quarter of a roll of electrical tape left, and not a napkin left in his van. Hording the things had paid off again.

“Well, doctor? Will I walk again?” the pony asked, a amused grin on her face.

When had she woken up? Was she watching him silently as he worked?

“Yeah, I’d say so. Just no more jumping out of the woods onto a road with traffic,” he scolded, although mentally noting the lack of any traffic besides himself.

She sat up, admiring his work on her barrel and legs, the only places she could turn her long neck to see. Already, the electrical tape on her neck was trying to peel off.

“Thank you, and I wasn’t out jogging. I teleported from your capitol to get some fresh air; all those stuffy government humans are worse than my noble ponies.”

Capitol? Government people? Was she in Lansing, and teleported to here? That’s quite the distance.

“I didn’t know any ponies were visiting Lansing,”

“No, Washington D.C. That’s your capital, correct?”

“Uh… yes. Wait, you teleported-”

“I was enjoying such a lovely calm night, and I happened upon a field full of your local deer. I tried to engage in conversation, but they must have been spooked and took off running in this direction. I tried to follow them and apologize, but I hadn’t thought to look both ways once I got to this ashen road.”

He looked to his van as well, noticing the back corner was leaning down. Oh no… was the tire punctured? On what???

“I thank you for your services, and I’m sorry again I ran into you.” She bowed her head, standing up on all fours.

He shook his head. “I hit you; if anything I’m the one in trouble.”

She cocked her head at me. “Why ever would you be in trouble?”

He blinked. “Because I hit you. With my van.”

“And yet I’m all right, so are you. Your chariot—van—sustained damage, repairable I hope, so I’ll have to do some paperwork to pay for it.”

“I have insurance, so I’m fine.” That was kind of a lie; he did have insurance, but just PLPD, so they wouldn’t cover anything. This would be a good excuse to say junk the van, but it still had another year or two in it, and looked fixable with a few junkyard parts, some zip ties, and a few strategic sheet metal screws.

He continued. “Besides, you’re hurt, I need to get you to a hospital. Or vet. I’m not sure, exactly. Where do ponies go for medical care?”

She began giggling. “Oh, I’ll be fine. Again, I thank you for bandaging me, mister…?”

Oh, that’s right. We’d not introduced ourselves at all.

“Thomas, Thomas Davis.”

The pony raised a hoof, and unsure of what else to do, he just bumped it with his fist.

“Princess Celestia, but you, my friend, may ignore the formality and call me Celestia.”

Wait… hold on a second…

“Wait, are you the leader of that new world we got in contact with?”

She nodded her head.

Holy SHIT I hit a pony princess. I’m so dead.

“Now that we have names, you’ve helped me. It’s time I helped you.”

“Huh?” he asked, only half listening as he envisioned himself in prison for, the rest of his life.

“Your van, as you call it, has sustained damage. I wish to help you patch it up, as you did me.” She smiled, and began walking (trotting?) towards the open hatch.

When she put weight on her left front leg, he saw her wobble and stagger and wince. She was in pain, and Thomas still had those pills…

“Um, I have some ibuprofen, but I’m not sure if you can take that.”

“Is that stronger than the pathetic stuff your president gave me? Advil?”

“Uh, yes, much more so.”

“Hoof it over.”

Thomas opened the bottle, dropping a couple of the 200mg pills into his hand. Her horn lit up gold, and the two pills levitated away and into her mouth. Before he could offer her some water or Vernors, she swallowed them dry.

“They’re uh… good for inflammation, which I’m sure you’ve got in your legs.”

“And my neck.”

“And your neck.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

He wanted to scream at himself—he didn’t mention they were expired. Should he still, even though she already took them? He was going to the jail house anyway, so every little bit of honesty goes a short way, might be favorable later on

“Um, I should also note, those were a little bit expired, sorry. I don’t have any new ones with me.”

She flicked a ear at him. “That’s quite alright; I’m sure a few months past the date isn’t all that bad.”

“Uh… more like a few years.”

Her other ear turned towards him.

“How many?”

“Uh . . . ten. . . .”

She turned to Thomas, regarding his nervous expression. With the looks she was giving, he had no doubt in his mind she had no kind of head trauma.

His palms were sweaty and a chill ran down his neck. He had the sudden feeling that life in a federal prison would be ten times better than whatever she would do. Probably a dungeon. For a thousand years. After a make-believe trial.

We were out in the middle of nowhere, at dark, with no one around. She could just teleport us both right now, throw me in, and no one would be any wiser. I’d go missing, but no one would really care except for my friends and parents.

A lady-like laugh brought him back to reality, as she had a hoof to her muzzle to hide her mirth.

“Oh, I can remember a time when we didn’t have such things in our world. It was all natural poultices, willow bark, leeches, you bit down on a piece of oak, and grinned through it. I’ll survive some expired medication.”

Thomas released the breath he was holding.

She looked down to the rear wheel of his van, her smile not vanishing. “Well, I found my missing shoe.”

Sure enough, there was a golden shoe shoved right into the sidewall of the tire. How’d I miss that when walking by? With her magic she tugged at it, finally freeing it. It looked unharmed, so she placed it back onto her bare hoof, giving it a couple of taps on the road to ensure it fit right.

“Well, your one wheel has deflated. Is there a repair kit for it? If not, I suppose I could lift this corner of the van so you could drive it home.”

“Uh, I’m a good distance from home. But I do have a spare, so I can just change it.”

“Oh, how wise to carry a spare.”

A spare tire was normal, and the med kit was wise, but Thomas just clamped his mouth shut and began getting the tools out to change a tire.

Forgoing the actual supplies that Chrysler supplied with their minivans, there was a full size car jack and a four way lug wrench, so he placed the jack on the ground and once he’d found the correct size, used the four way to begin breaking the lug nuts loose. Easy enough, since the van got regular tire rotations and brake checks.

“Would you like any help?”

“Uh, no, I’m fine. Thank you.”

She nodded her head, taking a seat beside Thomas to watch as he worked.

Once all five lug nuts were loosened, he retrieved his Red Kap work jacket and laid it down on the ground and crawled under the van to place the jack pad in a spot that wasn’t going to just push through the rust and rot. Before Thomas could grab his flashlight from his pocket, a bright light lit up the whole underneath of the van.

He looked over to see Celestia’s face under with him, her horn casting a bright glow so he could see.

“Thanks.”

“Any time.”

Once the jack was placed under the rear axle, directly under the spring’s retaining plate, he crawled out and began jacking it up, allowing the deflated tire to raise several inches into the air.

Before he could move away, he heard a odd sound, like a pneumatic impact gun at work, only quieter. Celestia was floating the five lug nuts in her magic, and behind them, the wheel came off effortlessly. Lucky. Sometimes they really stuck on the hub and had to be pried off or kicked free.

Next was freeing the spare tire from its stored location under the van. He popped off the small plastic cap, exposing a small hex, which he stuck the four way into that matched the lug nut sizes, and began turning counter clockwise.

Celestia watched in amazement as the tire began to lower from underneath. Thomas swore she had murmured something about human machinery never ceasing to amaze. More and more he cranked, until the tire was resting on the ground with enough slack to remove the retainer.

Before Thomas could grab it he watched it float out from underneath in Celestia’s magic, and it was his turn to watch in amazement as quickly she’d already figured out how to slide out the retainer through the center hub hole. Half the time he had to smack it with something to free the rust off holding it.

In a single fluid motion of her magic, it slid onto the axle hub, and all five lugnuts, again with that sound, were put on. He was thankful he’d checked the tire pressure the last time he’d had service done, and knew enough that it was inflated.

“Don’t, uh, tighten them down, just snug. I’ll do that. Too much force and you can break the studs off,” Thomas said, placing the flat tire into the back. If she could teleport across the country, he was sure her magic was strong enough to snap lug studs in two.

“Of course,” Celestia said, smiling.

He began going around in a star pattern, just making sure they’re snug enough to make good surface contact with the hub.

Then as Thomas began to lower the vehicle, he heard a small cough, and turned his head to look at the princess.

“So, where were you heading when you… struck me?”

“I was on my way to meet with some friends at a bar,” Thomas said, pulling the jack out from underneath.

With a grunt, he picked it up and placed it into the back of the van beside the flat tire. It was an older Lincoln jack, all steel instead of the more modern aluminum racing jacks.

“A night out with your friends at a local pub? Sounds like a fun evening ahead,” Celestia said with a kind smile.

“Well, I was, but now probably not now.”

“How come?”

He began tightening the lugs in a star pattern, making sure they felt just right. Had he had a torque wrench, he could have been precise, but on the side of the road repairs didn’t usually involve precision work.

“Well, I need to take you somewhere, I’m sure you need to make a phone call,” He stopped, thinking, “or um, send a… magic signal? To contact someone. Pony. Somepony.” The word sounded strange coming out of his mouth.

Celestia simply smiled at me. “Fret not, Thomas, by morning I will have healed enough to dispel any worry with your governing office. My guards will be rather cross with me leaving them behind, but they will bite their tongues and be good little colts.”

“Oh. Okay then…” He slammed the tailgate down and gave it a little tug to make sure it had latched..

“However, if you are still feeling bad about striking me, I don’t suppose a mug of cider, or any drink, would hinder my healing.”

Did she just…

“Are you asking to come with me to the bar?”

She gave a face that suggested, had her shoulder not been wrapped, she would have been shrugging. “Only if you’re offering.”

He looked to the plastic cover on the rear bumper, still sitting half on the ground. She was quiet while he tried to shove it back into position, but the plastic was too bent, and most of the holding clips were either broken, or had torn themselves out of the rusty metal under the bumper cover.

Since it wouldn’t go back on, Thomas simply grabbed the piece, and pulled. Celestia gave him a curious look as the few remaining fasteners gave up.

He opened the side door, and tossed it into the very back. With no back seats in the way, it made it there easily.

He left the door open, standing in the light the interior bulbs cast on him.

Celestia had followed, looking at the area the plastic was now missing. “I could have mended that.”

“It’s fine. It’s cosmetic, anyway; the actual bumper is the black plastic thing that’s underneath. And, sure, you can come, if you really want to.”

She smiled at him, and he moved aside so she could step into the back. With her size, the seats would have been useless; as it was, just sitting up caused her horn to pierce the headliner.

“Thank you,” she said, and he closed the door.

Thomas walked around the front, and noticed something stabbed into the front fender he hadn’t seen before.

A golden tiara.

He wiggled it out, ignoring the other front end damage to the van. It wasn’t anything some zip ties and sheet metal screws couldn’t fix later. He walked around to the door to enter. Inside, he held up the crown, and with a blush on her cheeks she magik’d it from his grasp and placed it upon her head. A moment later, it, along with her shoes, were deposited between the front seats.

“I think I can go without these for the time being. I’d hate to lose them.”

He caught the hint she was about to add “again”, so just nodded his head, dropped the shift lever into drive, and slowly merged back onto the road, with a pony princess in the back. Going to a bar, to drink with his friends.

Celestia’s voice and amused questions began, and for the rest of the drive the two of them talked. She was the most talkative deer he’d ever hit.

Author's Note

Since this is a fic for Admiral Biscuit, have a blog post!