There was a knock on the door. And since knocks on my door usually meant bad things, I chose to ignore it and continued stirring my spaghetti. Then they knocked again.
“Anthony!” a voice cried out. “Are you all right? Are you in some sort of danger in there?”
I didn’t recognize the voice, so I left the kitchen with my pasta strainer still in hand. Glancing out the window, I found four stallion guards decked out in glimmering armor waiting on me. Two with white fur and two with gray. All with horns.
I cracked the door open the smallest of amounts.
“Go. Away,” I spat.
The eyes of the front guard shot open. “You heard him, soldiers! That’s the codeword!”
Before I got a chance to slam the door shut, all four guards rushed inside to stand and grind dirt into my entryway carpet.
I exhaled hotly. “Okay. So who invited you all in just now? And what ‘codeword’? I didn’t say any damn ‘codeword’!”
The lead guard nodded happily. “But, technically, Anthony, you did. ‘Go away.’ That was the phrase Princess Celestia said meant that the plan was all set and ready to go.”
The words “plan” and “Celestia” in the same sentence sent a shiver down my spine. Six weeks ago, I’d officially ruined one of her fancy pony parties by accidently booping her on the snout. In retaliation, she chased me to the moon and back. Literally. I knew proper revenge would come for me at some point.
I could hear my pot in the kitchen boiling over, so I cut things short. “Fine, then. What’s the plan? Or… revenge, in this case? Forty lashes with a wet noodle?”
I do have extra spaghetti, I thought oddly.
All guards gasped. They looked plain shocked by what I’d just said.
“We would never do such a thing!” the lead guard proclaimed. “Not to someone we’ve been sworn to protect! To guard until our dying breath!”
The picture was steadily coming into focus.
“So, the four of you are here to protect me?” I asked delicately. “From what?”
“I dunno.” The guard shrugged. “Any sworn enemies you know of that might be plotting devilish things against you right this very moment?”
I thought on that. “Well, there was this kid in grade school that made me eat Playdough once,” I admitted with a smirk. “As well as dirt and small worms. I think his name was Simon. Simple Simon, I used to call him.”
The guard tightened his jaw. “Then this nefarious Simple Simon will be no more!”
All at once, each guard raised their respective weapons and growled deep in their throats, before shooting toward the nearest exit. They only made it halfway across the lawn before they all stopped and turned around.
With less enthusiasm than a few seconds ago, they re-entered my house.
Casually, I asked, “Realized Simon was still on Earth, didn’t you?”
They nodded. Rather glumly.
“Sorry. No revenge-murder for you four.”
The lead guard briskly shook his head before approaching again. “It matters not, sir Anthony. We came here with a job to do and that is what we shall do.” He then laid his small sword beside my sock-covered feet on the carpet. “You have my sword.”
The other three were quick to do the same.
“And my spear.”
“And my bow. Along with the eight arrows I brought. If you want more, I’ll have to go get some. Although they’re kind of expensive.”
The last guard was hesitant in laying down their weapon.
“And my… spear, too.” The guard’s face flushed a bit. “Not a lot of weapon choices at the barracks. I could always shoot fireballs outta my horn, if you’d like.” He blinked a few times. “So, I guess what I’m saying is… you have my fireball shooting horn at your service, sir Anthony.”
When they all seemed finished and happy with themselves, I nodded a single time. “Great. Excellent. Super. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think my spaghetti lunch is almost ruined.”
Then I hurried to the kitchen to save my carb-heavy meal.
I heard sixteen hooves follow close behind me.
As I filled up a bowl with noodles and sauce, the stallion guard with the spear (not the spear and fireballs one) starred at me with rising unease. “Are you… are you actually planning on eating that, sir Anthony? Right this very second?”
I stuck a fork in the center of my pasta dish. “Oddly enough, yes. Yes, I am.”
But when I brought the fork up to my lips, that very same pony smacked the bowl out from my grasp to smash all over the floor.
“Without a food taster present!?” the same guard shrieked.
I looked down and stared at the mess, then at my hands—still hovering in the air as if gripping something small and circular. Then I thought of how they were currently at the very correct height to strangle a three-and-a-half-foot tall pony.
Then I thought better of it. I’d probably get it trouble if I did something like that.
But could I get away with it if it ended it with a friendship lesson? I thought terribly.
Instead, I decided just to scream at him. “What the hell did you do that for?”
“You were about to eat that without a food taster, Anthony!” the guard replied, rather dignified. “What if it had been poisoned? You could have died! I might’ve just saved your life, sir.”
“What!?” I ran both hands through my hair and found them shaking. “I made that! Why would I go and poison myself?”
The guard thought on that, scratching at his chin with a hoof. Finally, he looked up. “Having any suicidal thoughts lately, Anthony? Finally tired of being the only human in the entire world? Favorite book series come to an unsatisfying conclusion?”
I ignored him while I fixed myself another bowl. That was the good thing about pasta. It was near impossible to properly measure. Think you're making just enough for yourself? End up making enough to feed the whole block along with their pets and ancestors.
As I sat down at my kitchen table, I could feel their eyes upon me.
I glanced at the one that had knocked the bowl out of my grasp. “You just gonna sit there? Staring?”
With a hoof, he pointed at my fresh bowl of spaghetti, before drawing a line across his neck.
I grumbled under my breath. “Fine. Have a bite if it’ll quit your complaining.”
I grabbed another fork and dug out a mound of pasta before plunking it into the pony’s mouth. Thoughtfully, he chewed on it.
“See?” I told him earnestly. “No poison. No death. If I actually wanted to kill myself, I’d just do it like a normal person. With a dead-end 9 to 5 job and severe drinking habit.”
With that particular pony satisfied, I was finally able to dig into my meal. A tad cold by this point, but whatever.
The three remained guards took seats around my table, sporadically glancing my way.
My fork clanked as it fell inside by bowl. “You all want some too, don’t you?”
“Only for food tasting, sir Anthony,” one of them said, without quite meeting my eyes.
I grumbled to myself as I left the table to fix them all a portion.
After that, we ate in silence. Besides the loud slurping of noodles, that was.
***
After my overly annoying lunch, I asked each of them to pick a corner of the room to sit in and count to a million. I thought this would give me some much-needed alone time.
Nope.
“Sir Anthony,” one of them called outside my bathroom door. “Are you in need of anything?”
I curled the magazine I was reading into a tight tube. The National Equiner. “Some privacy, perhaps.”
“Anything else? Toilet paper? Soothing music?” He paused, lowering his voice. “Or are you secretly under duress? Are you being held against your will right now? Can you not give us a signal? If so, just cough some morse code—”
“Jesus Christ, I’m not under duress!” I ranted. “There’s no bathroom ninjas in here or anything of the sort! I think if ninjas even existed, they have more decency than you and at least let me finish in here before attacking me! Just think of how awkward that would be. Nobody wants that.”
Through the door, I could hear another one of the guards shuffling to the one I’d just been talking to. Even though they both spoke in hushed tones, I still caught the gist of their conversation. Namely, that they thought I was both on the toilet and in serious trouble.
I curled my magazine up even tighter. “What do you do when Celestia uses the bathroom, huh? You must leave her alone when she’s in there, right?”
They both snickered at that. “Princess Celestia? Using the bathroom like any ol’ normal pony?” Then they both burst out laughing.
Since it was clear I wasn’t about to be left alone anytime soon, I hitched up my pants and opened the door. “Just what’s so funny about that? Everyone uses the bathroom. Everyone. Even perfect magical alicorn Princesses.”
The two of them shook their heads at me. “Princesses don’t. Not ever.”
“Are you sure about that? I’m actually pretty sure everybody does,” I told them in a semi-lecturing tone. “Come to think of it, I actually read a book on the subject back when I was a kid. A famous scholarly report known as ‘Everyone Poops’. The moral of the story wasn’t all that hard to ascertain, I must say.”
Again, they shook their tiny, helmet-protected heads at me. “Nuh-uh. The only place Princess Celestia visits by herself during the day is her Private Dungeon. We’re pretty sure that’s where she keeps all the troublemakers in Equestria. You know… to stop them from causing any more trouble.”
“It’s soundproof, too,” the other guard added helpfully. “Can’t hear a peep.”
Just as I was wishing for my own Private Dungeon to escape to, the other guards joined the two standing outside my bathroom.
They both furrowed their brows at their comrades. “You both count to a million already?”
***
Since clearly staying inside that day wasn’t working out so well, I instead marched all four of my “personal guards” out onto the lawn to stand in a neat little row. It was clear they’d done this close to half-a-billion times already; they stood so straight and perfectly aligned, I could probably take a ruler and get the exact same distance between all four of them.
“No nametags?” I asked sheepishly, glancing at their bare, armored chests. “Fine. Since I can’t keep referring to you as Guard One or Guard Two or Hey You, Pony Face, I’ll have to hear same names.” I pointed at the far left one. “Go. Name. Now.”
“Paul,” he answered with a hurried salute.
“Okay. Oddly humanish, but I’ll take it. Next?”
“George,” the second in line answered.
“The oddness continues,” I muttered. “Okay, next?”
“John,” the third one replied. “At your service!”
I snorted. This was too good to be true.
I pointed at the last one in the row. “Let me guess. Ringo?”
The last guard almost looked hurt by that. “What? No. I’m Dream Chaser.”
“Dream Chaser?” I felt deflated. “Sure you don’t want to be Ringo for the day? As a favor to me, perhaps?”
The guard’s shoulders slumped. “What’s wrong with Dream Chaser? My parents gave me that name so I could grow up to chase my—”
I waved a hand to cut him off. “Fine. Be Yoko for all I care. Go ahead and break up the band.”
He took a step back in alarm. “We’re in a band? Since when? I can’t even tap my hooves in rhythm to the radio!”
I put the poor, frazzled pony out of his misery by giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. “Only kidding. You can stay Dream Chaser if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll actually call you that, but…” I shrugged. “Hey! Let’s go take a picture of the five of us.”
Although the Fab Five didn’t have quite the same ring as the Fab Four, I still decided to make the most of things; I knew there was a section of road near the marketplace in Ponyville called Apple Street—a tiny walkway from one curb to the next that would work nicely for the photo I had in mind.
Sure. Okay. Apple Street wasn’t super close to Abbey Road, but you know what? I still had a whole day to kill with these “protecting” guards. Anything to make time move faster than it was.
“But we’re not beetles, Anthony, we’re ponies,” the guard known as George lamented as I, once again, scooted him into position for the perfect picture. “How many times do we have to tell you that?”
I shoved at John’s rump until he moved up a step. Now I had three of them just like the cover to “Abbey Road”. Now just one more.
“And how many times do I got to tell you it’s not ‘beetles’, but ‘The Beatles’. A band. A four piece just like you guys.”
Just from a glance I could tell they were uncomfortable just standing there, remaining motionless. Thankfully, it would only take another few seconds until I could snap my picture.
“Anthony! Look out!” Ringo/Dream Chaser shrieked, jumping up into the air as he dove in front of me. As he landed with a thud on the pavement, he went on to skid a good half-foot. It was like in the movies when someone jumps in front of someone else to take a bullet or a knife for them. Speaking of which…
I casually glanced around the busy street, looking for any signs of trouble.
Only there was none.
My pointer finger poked at Ringo’s exposed belly. “Care to explain yourself?”
With much grief, he glanced up at me; by the way he was looking at me, it was as if he’d just spent nine hellish months in some far-off warzone. “That carriage…” he whispered out between shallow breaths. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t gonna stop in time… I had to save you, Anthony… because that’s what guards do.”
He took a moment to glance up at the burning sun, high overhead.
“… we guard.”
Then his head fell back to the cement.
Carriage? I thought to myself. I was about to be hit by a carriage? Where, even?
The carriage in question (or the object of my very near demise) ended up being two solid blocks away from us, traveling at a steady speed of five miles an hour at best.
I turned to the other members of the Fab Five. “Can you believe this guy?”
It seemed like they definitely could, as each was close to tears, consoling one another.
“A guard’s greatest sacrifice,” Paul mumbled out softly. “So selfless.”
“So beautiful,” added John.
“So stunning and brave,” finished George.
Irritated, I poked at Ringo again. This time in the nose. “Get up, savior. Your date with the carriage of doom doesn’t start for another five minutes.”
Ringo squinted his eyes shut, not budging an inch. “Give it time… it’ll be here any second now… I’m sure of it…”
“It’s already turned a corner, pal. Maybe next time. But I’ll give your noble sacrifice partial credit. How does that sound?”
Without waiting for a response, I scooped the heroic pony off the ground and set him back on his hooves. I didn’t bother attempting the photo again; a headache was already looming near. Although, I did have an errand in mind now that I was actually out of the house.
“Wanna hear a joke?” I asked Paul as we strolled toward the grocery store. “What do the biggest Princess Luna fans call themselves?”
Paul thought on that for a moment. “I don’t know, sir. What?”
“Luna-tics.”
It felt as if all of Ponyville grew silent after that. Up ahead, a tumbleweed lazily rolled across the street.
“Were you a comedian back on Earth, Anthony?” Paul asked in return.
“No.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled. “That is good to know.”
Before we left the spot that Ringo had “sacrificed” himself at, my guard entourage had quietly played shortest straw between themselves. I hadn’t said anything at the time, but since my brand of anti-humor had gone down in flames most spectacularly, I thought that talking about anything else at all might prove welcome.
“Which one of you drew shortest straw?” I asked gingerly.
Behind me, John raised his hoof.
“What does that mean? Shortest straw?”
“It’s how we decide formation when guarding a target. In groups of four, there’s always one guard ahead of the target, one to the left and one to the right, and one directly behind.”
I grimaced. “So shortest straw means you get to stare at the backend of my jeans?”
Glancing back, I saw the faintest of smirks on John’s muzzle.
He told me gamely, “To be fair… most of our guard duty is spent escorting Princess Celestia from one place to the next. And she is mighty tall.”
The gears in my head came to a quick halt. Then they began grinding together while billowing smoke and steam out of my ears.
I turned to face John as the other three chuckled between themselves. “You guys are all perves, you know that? For shame. Celestia’s old enough to be your mother! Or your mother’s mother’s mother’s… I think you get my point.”
“Doesn’t look her age, though,” Paul said, also with a smirk.
I focused on John behind me again. “Have some respect, dude. She raises the sun for all you little ponies.”
“That’s not the only thing she raises,” George added rather greasily.
Hurriedly, I grabbed hold of George’s shoulders as his face flushed red.
I glared at him. He calmly replied, “I was talking about taxes, Anthony! Jeeze! Loosen up a bit, will you?”
I thought on that. Then I leveled a finger at him.
“You’re lucky you’re so clever.”
***
I had one item to grab from the grocery store. One. One tasty box of “Alicornios” featuring everyone’s favorite cereal mascot Princess Marshmallow. It really didn’t seem like that big a deal. Until it became one.
“Mares and gentlecolts!” Ringo yelled as loudly as he could once inside the store. “May I introduce for your shopping pleasure… ANON-THONY!”
Immediately following that, I grabbed his head and twisted it upwards to face me. “Celestia told you to say that, didn’t she?”
His reddened face said enough.
Quickly, I shot down the cereal aisle, breaking the guards’ carefully crafted formation and truly not giving a crap. All four guards scrambled after me as I reached the section my cereal should’ve been in… only to find an empty shelf in its stead.
“Damn it!” I spat. “Out again?”
“Do not fear, sir Anthony,” Paul said in a hushed tone beside me. “I swear upon my grave that even if it takes me the rest of my life, I will not rest until you have your sugar-loaded cereal in hand.”
I tapped my chin. “Or I could ask someone working here if they got some in the back.”
“Look!” George exclaimed, pointing down the aisle. “That little colt’s got the last box of ‘Alicornios’! Get ‘em!”
Each guard quickly yanked out their respective weapons and prepared to charge. Ringo/Dream Chaser shot a pea-sized fireball out from his horn that joyfully bounced across the linoleum floor.
And just like that I’d come up with a plan to get rid of my guards.
Not to get them fired, mind you.
Promoted.
Quickly, I snagged a random box of cereal up off the top shelf and kept it held above my head; I then pretended to have trouble holding it there.
“Wait!” I cried. “Help! This box… it’s too heavy… I can’t hold it up much longer!”
“What are you talking about, sir Anthony?” John asked with a raised brow. His three cohorts had stopped as well, and were studying me with identical curious expressions. “That’s just a cereal box. One of the travel-sized ones.”
“Is it?” I gasped out. “Feels much heavier than that. Quick. Someone help me with it.”
Paul told me, “If it’s so heavy, just drop it.”
“Can’t…” A trickle of sweat dripped down my face. I think I must’ve been an actor in another life. “But if I drop it now… it might hit my shoes… and I think if it does, I might die! If only there were a few guards close by to sacrifice themselves for me!”
And just like that, each guards’ eyes lit up.
“A guard’s greatest sacrifice?” one of them asked with bated breath.
“So selfless.”
“So beautiful.”
“So stunning and brave!”
Before I knew exactly what was happening, one guard hopped onto another one until all four had created a pony-pyramid even taller than myself. The top one reached for the cereal box I was holding, safely returning it to the nearby shelf.
Everyone in the store clapped. I have no idea why.
***
Hours later and in the dark, I sat up in bed, happy the day to be over with. Following the “heavy cereal box” incident, all four of my personal guards were immediately promoted along with a large increase in pay. As if that wasn’t enough, a huge bronze statue was quickly erected outside that very same grocery store—one depicting the valiant efforts of four unicorn guards verses one tiny, expired box of cereal.
Maybe that’s why taxes were on the rise. Too many bronze statues around this place.
I was just around the edges of sleep when another knock came. This time from my bedroom window.
I ripped it open with a grunt. “Look, Fluttershy, you can’t keep—”
Four new guards stood staring at me; all with dark fur and bat-like wings.
“Sir Anthony—” one began.
“Fudge off,” I said before he could finish. Only I didn’t say ‘fudge’, exactly.
“You heard the man! That’s the codeword Luna gave us! Mission is go! Protect sir Anthony at whatever the cost!”
Luna’s own brand of revenge, I thought bitterly.
Having seen enough guards that day to last me a lifetime, I roughly grabbed the closest bat pony at hand and pulled him inside. As you would a unyielding pillow, I gave his sides a quick squeeze and stuck him behind my head as I climbed back into bed.
“Uh… what are you doing?” he asked hesitantly behind my head.
“Shush,” I whispered back. “You’re my pillow now. You gotta do what I say, remember? It’s your mission.”
“Umm… I guess.”
I pointed at another guard that had climbed his way inside.
“You. Make calming ocean sounds while I sleep.”
He gulped dryly at my request, then gave it his best.
I winced. “Less fog horn, maybe. More sea boat captain.” Then I indicated the remaining two nighttime guards. “You two. Stand watch outside. No Fluttershys or Starlight Glimmers allowed. Understood?”
They saluted and got right to work.
Orders successfully delivered, I sank my head back into my pony pillow and drifted straight to sleep alongside the gentle sounds of the ocean.
It was easily the best sleep I’d had in months.
Author's Note
Just something dumb to keep my hands in motion. Move along.
