“Can you believe it? There's been another shark attack.” Innocent Bystander, a rather plain, tan stallion said. His only real defining feature was a silky black clip-on tie. He reclined against a flaking, green park bench whose wooden boards creaked, probably wondering to themselves just how a silky black clip-on tie could weigh so much.
He grumbled as he flipped past the annoying pop-up advertisement section of the newspaper. The dang things were going to bother him all day, but he really wanted to read the rest of the article.
“Let's see... gray skin... evil, beady, lavender eyes... yeah, yeah, know all that.” He frowned deeply at the picture of the latest victims. Two colts, both unicorns, both mauled, each missing limbs, both dead. They were also both affixed to a large particle board with giant pins stabbed through them each labeled “exhibit A” and “B.” Hmm, given the expressions on their faces, they probably weren't actually dead until that last part. See, the current police chief believed in preserving evidence at all costs, even if the evidence was an injured pony. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea to elect the town entomologist for that role.
Still, a shark sighting in Ponyville was no laughing matter.
A shiver ran down Innocent Bystander's spine. Suddenly, the park bench in the middle of an open field beneath a clear, blue sky didn't feel so safe. Even his clip-on tie was on edge.
With a swift motion, he crumpled up the paper, tossed it into an aluminum-only recycling bin, and bounced off the bench on to his hooves. With a running start—
“BUY SOME APPLES!” screamed an advert before flying into his face. He careened off-course, crashing face-first into a lamp post and collapsing into a heap. Normally, he'd only be stunned, but once an advertisement has tasted blood its insatiable thirst cannot be stopped. Soon, the other adverts joined in, settling down like flies to feast on his corpse.
In a nearby bush, another pony only felt like a corpse. Octavia Melody hacked and coughed. She doubled over in a spasm and spat out a bunch of fur. She had such a headache and her insides felt like they were on fire. With a groan, she rolled over and flopped on her back. She then popped open a pink bottle and guzzled down an entire lifetime supply's worth of divine-strength Sharkto-Bismo indigestion medication. Next week, she thought, next week.
Yeah, she should probably kick that habit of hers of sneaking out late at night and gnawing ponies' limbs off. People might get the wrong idea and think that she was a shark or something.
~cCc~
“Yay! School's out!” A stampede of little ponies poured out of Ponyville's old, brick schoolhouse for summer vacation. They darted off in various directions, eager to get home and terrorize their families, who would promptly kick them out so they could terrorize the general populous instead. Cheerilee, for her part, would go off and terrorize the local teacher's unions.
Like any good little fillies, the Cutie Mark Crusaders immediately tore off to get started with their summer education. Ah yes, they'd take turns enjoying thick volumes of esoteric, flowery, and scientific poetry with tall, frosty glasses of juice in their favorite hoof-woven hammocks. They were hyped at the prospect of grabbing field guides, identifying and labeling every single plant growing in Ponyville. And if that wasn't enough, they planned to play for hours with multiplication tables while going back and redoing their favorite homework assignments.
Well, that was more like what the terrorized ponies who were being run over hoped they would do instead. The Cutie Nark Crusaders were actually having a party, the type of which would cause local property values to decline for years. They careened down the busy streets like yaks at a masquerade, kicking up clouds of dust and scrambling ponies in their wake.
“Okay, so we have the tea cake, the fine china, the silverware, the tea bags, the real estate documents, the streamers, and the confetti.” Apple Bloom removed her nose from their bag of supplies just in time to duck under a thrown tomato. An angry-looking stallion with wagon wheel tread marks over his tuxedo shouted at them and shook his hoof. “Wait a minute. One of these items doesn't match the others. Why do we need silverware?”
Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes. “For the last time, Apple Bloom. This is a civilized tea party. We can't have a real tea party without—wait! Scootaloo, stop!”
The orange blur pulling their their wagon abruptly came into focus as she screeched to a halt next to a peeling, green park bench. The wagon rocked, jostling its contents. Apple Bloom had to hold the bag to keep it from tipping over.
“What is it? Did we forget something?” Scootaloo asked.
Sweetie Belle hopped off and darted into a nearby bush. A moment later, Octavia emerged, sliding on her back. Her eyes were wide, pupils tiny and darting around. She was also being pushed by one very determined little filly. “We need one of these too,” Sweetie Belle said.
“A bum?” Scootaloo asked. She loosened her helmet to scratch at her mane.
“Why do we need a bum?” Apple Bloom asked.
“This isn't just any bum. It's Octavia! As I was saying, we can't have a proper tea party without shanghaiing a musician. Now stop gawking and give me a helping hoof here.”
The other two shrugged then cantered over to help out. With their combined effort, Octavia was hoisted up and dumped into the wagon. They then resumed their positions as Scootaloo yanked on her reigns and marched off again. Octavia, for her part, groaned and rubbed her head.
With the added weight, they were moving at a slower pace. Scootaloo dodged a row of ducklings and accidentally ran over an orphanage. "Oops," she muttered. “So what are we celebrating?” she asked the other two in back.
“School's out. Isn't that enough?” Apple Bloom replied.
“No. She's right. We need a theme.” Sweetie Belle furrowed her brow and squashed her lips together in a thin line. “Hmmm.”
“A theme? Oh, right! Like how we're celebrating all the things we did this year. All of our accomplishments, our triumphs, that sort of thing,” Apple Bloom said.
“Yeah!” Scootaloo hopped up and smacked her hooves together while hopping over an ant colony that the wagon promptly squashed. “Something that's uniquely us. Something that shows just who we are, and why we're special.”
“Something that we can all be proud of,” Sweetie Belle said. “So what, exactly, is that?”
They all quieted down. The wagon clacked and rattled as it was being hauled off the road towards their clubhouse. Wind wicked at the edges of the little ponies' manes poking out from under their helmets.
“Well, none of us have been devoured by a shark,” Apple Bloom said.
“Yeah! But what about—no, wait. You're right. We haven't.” Scootaloo patted herself down.
“Yep. That'll work,” Sweetie Belle said.
“No eating them, but...” Octavia grimaced and rubbed her head. “Well, I did say I was going to cut back on that...” she muttered to herself. The fillies were too busy yaying to notice her.
~cCc~
The official Cutie Mark Crusader end-of-school and never-been-eaten-by-a-shark party was well underway. They clinked their delicate china cups together and took dainty sips. Confetti and streamers were strewn about. Scootaloo poked the various pieces of silverware laid out, then shrugged and grabbed a piece of cake with her bare hooves. Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow at her set of utensils, then cut herself a piece of cake with the wrong end of a spork. Sweetie Belle, much more civilized, took a dainty bite from her cake with the proper dessert fork before wiping her mouth with the deed to somepony's house.
All through the while, Octavia sat quietly in a corner, providing upbeat and cheery background music. Each note danced in the air like a professional figure skater, purposeful, graceful, and full of beauty. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, that's the kind of music they had hoped for. What they actually got sounded more like Dun-Dun-Dun.
“Is that the Jaws theme?” Apple Bloom asked.
“I didn't even know that you could play that on a Cello,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Yeah, uh, this is a no-sharks-eating-us party. Maybe you should play something else?” Scootaloo asked.
Octavia huffed and changed tunes. The new music was basically the same, just with a slightly altered pitch and rhythm.
“The Great White Massacre by Darnit Gotaway?” Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow.
“Ah don't think that'll work, either,” Apple Bloom said.
Now scowling, Octavia switched tempos altogether. Her new melody was flat and droll, perfect for laying ponies in their graves, or perhaps on the dinner plate.
“The Donner Party's Leftovers?” Scootaloo asked.
“At least it doesn't involve sharks, this time,” Sweetie Belle muttered, “but I was hoping for something a bit less cannibalistic.” She batted her eyes and grinned.
Octavia groaned and tried several other tunes, but the Cutie Mark Crusaders also rejected Soylent Green is Ponies, There's Always a Bigger Shark, Jaws II, Jaws III, Jawsnado, The Return of Jaws I, and The Silence Before Octavia Flips out, Turns into a Shark, and Eats Everyone.
“Oh come on! I wasn't even playing anything that time!” Octavia yelled. A vein throbbed out of her neck and the gray mare dripped with sweat. She took a deep breath, swiped a foreclosure notice across her forehead, and closed her eyes. “It's okay, I can do this. Do you have anything to drink?”
“Of course. It's a tea party.” Sweetie Belle grabbed the steaming pot and poured out a cup full of dark green fluid. She levitated it over to Octavia.
Snatching it out of the air, the grown mare sniffed it gingerly. It smelt really horrible, like something had talked itself into a corner and died. “What is it?”
“It's Psychology Gouda Tea,” Scootaloo said. “We made it ourselves.”
Octavia's lower lip twitched and she curled it down is a distasteful sneer. Fumbling with her belongings, she took a quick peek at an unopened can of Sharkto Bismo. There was a black label on the side with yellow exclamation points that read, 'Warning: Do not mix this product with anything that rhymes with sea.' She rolled her eyes, thinking, Meh, It's probably fine. How would a potion know what something sounds like, anyway? She stuffed it back in her saddlebags and took a swig of the disgusting green tea. “Yuck.”
Sweetie Belle clunked the pitcher back on the table. “Hey, this is a completely random thought that I just had right now for no apparent reason, but you now what rhymes with 'sea?' Me!”
“Sweetie Belle, you don't rhyme with 'sea,' ” Scootaloo said.
“No. Not my name, 'me,' the word 'me.' ”
Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “So, hypothetically, if there was some sort of thing that warned ya not to mix it with somethin' that rhymed with 'sea,' then it's really a warning not to drink it at all, because it would always be mixed with something that rhymes with 'sea?' ”
“Yep.” Sweetie Belle clapped her hooves together. “Exactly.”
Octavia doubled over, clutching at her belly. “I hate you all so much right now. You have no idea.”
The Cutie Mark Crusaders backed off, away from the wayward musician, whose face was flush, sweaty, and full of lines as every muscle tensed. Her skin grew thicker and gnarled. Her ears stretched out into massive flaps, She grew tusks out of her mouth, and her muzzle elongated and pulled out into a trunk. All the while, she grew larger and larger, expanding in size. She let out a ferocious trumpet, which shook the clubhouse. She also had a slick, styled dark gray mane and a cute, pink bow tied around her neck.
“An elephant! Octavia turned into an elephant!? Why did Octavia just turn into an elephant?” Apple Bloom yelled. She pulled the other two Crusaders in a huddle as they all backed into a corner. The tree house shook and tilted and all the fine china tumbled off the table, shattering on the floor.
“Don't be dumb, Apple Bloom,” Scootaloo said. “Everypony knows that if you're going to turn into a shark, you must first turn into an elephant.”
“Yeah. Cheerilee spent a whole week teaching us that.” Sweetie Belle rubber her chin. “It was a weird week.”
“Heh. I knew that.” Apple Bloom wanly chuckled, trying to save face.
There was a horrible splintering as the huge elephant crashed through the floor boards. The tree house whipped back and forth, shaking from the sudden loss of mass holding it down. Everything rattled, creaked and groaned. The entire roof gained air and tore off as the structure whipped back and forth. Three little ponies tumbled on the broken and buckled floorboards, eyes rolling around in their heads. When things finally settled down, an open sky and branches of apple tree loomed above them. A huge semi-circular hole lay gouged in the floor, and the Crusaders poked their heads over the edge to scope out the wreckage.
Sure enough, the shattered remains of their tea party were scattered about, flattened. Streamers and confetti drifted about, carried away by the breeze. There was also something large and gray flopping about.
“Um, I don't mean to mention the elephant that just fell out of the room, but, uh, Octavia kinda turned into a shark,” Apple Bloom said.
“That's not just any shark, either. Look at the styled mane. Look at the little pink bow around her neck. That's Sharktavia!” Scootaloo hunched down and inched back.
“What? Octavia is the Sharktavia? That pony-eating monster from the news?” Sweetie Belle blinked. “Wow. If I'd known that, I probably wouldn't have invited her to our sharks-not-eating-us party.”
“Gee, ya think?” Apple Bloom deadpanned.
Sharktavia flopped about, snapping her jaws at the air. Leaves crunched and boards and twigs cracked under her massive, flailing girth.
“I don't think she can reach us,” Scootaloo said. “We're safe up here.”
Things went quiet down below, putting the Crusaders ill at ease. They looked at each other, and each backed away from the hole.
Shartavia's pointed, hydrodynamic snout flew up, followed by her massive rows of razor-sharp teeth. The Crusaders screamed and scrambled away, only for Sharktavia to bite down on the floor boards where they stood only a moment before. Crashing back down, she tore a large section out of the remaining floor, and the gutted clubhouse rattled and swayed. More streamers and confetti drifted down.
“So much for being safe,” Apple Bloom said.
“This is bad, really, really bad,” Scootaloo ducked into a corner, and the other two joined her there, huddling in fear. Many more floor boards were splintered, busted and dangling down, and the floor looked about ready to give out.
With a horrendous crunch, Sharktavia crashed up before them, and the entire shark sailed through the air right towards them. They screamed and broke apart, but one scream was abruptly cut off as the shark crashed back down through the floor boards to the ground below.
Sweetie Belle rolled off to the side, and stared in gaping horror at the hole where her best friend used to be. “No! The shark ate Scootaloo! Noooooooo!”
“What? No. I'm fine.” Scootaloo waved from across the gap. The shark ate Apple Bloom.”
Gasping, Sweetie Belle ran around the hole and gave Scootaloo a hug. “Oh thank goodness you're safe. I don't know what I'd do without you.”
Scootaloo gently pushed the little unicorn away. “Uh, the shark ate Apple Bloom.”
“Um, I mean...” Blinking twice, Sweetie Belle pretended to cough into her hoof. “no. the shark ate apple bloom. noooooooo.”
Gnashing her teeth, Scootaloo's eyes darted back and forth. “And we're going to be next if we can't get out of here.”
Sharktavia lunged. She didn't get nearly as much lift that time and only knocked away some of the floor boards with the tip of her snout. There was now less than a third of the floor remaining and many of the remaining boards were creaking and probably couldn't be trusted.
“This is terrible! Horrible! I don't have time to get eaten by a shark. It'll mess up my whole schedule!” Sweetie Belle moaned.
“Mess up your schedule?” Sootaloo raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, see, look at this.” Sweetie Belle puled out a little black book and gave it to Scootaloo.
“Your day planner?” Opening to the bookmarked page, Scootaloo scanned it quickly. “Wow. You really are booked. Getting eaten by a shark would mess up your day completely.”
“Totally.”
There was another crash as more floor boards gave out to Sharktavia's continuing onslaught. The clubhouse rattled more than usual and there were ominous pops and creaks as the whole structure tilted. Loose marbles rolled across the floor and fell.
“Would ya quit yer leapin' about? Yer makin' me woozy,” a muffled voice cried out.
“Apple Bloom!? You're alive!” Sweetie Belle poked her nose over the edge.
“Well, yeah, she didn't exactly chew when she gobbled me up.”
“That's great! Hold on, we'll save you!” Sweetie Belle glanced around the shattered remains of the room. She picked up the sharpest and most dangerous thing she could find: a pink streamer. She frowned. “Don't worry. We'll get you out of there somehow!”
Sharktavia lurched about below, wiggling into position for her next attack. From inside her body, Apple Bloom yelled, “What? No! Are you crazy!? Didn't you see all those teeth out there? I'm staying right here where it's safe: inside the shark.”
Scootaloo gasped and picked up a black leather briefcase stuffed full of papers. “The real estate documents! Hold on. I have a plan.”
Dashing to the teetering edge, she held the briefcase over her head and waved it about. “Hey, check this out! Some ponies are about to be foreclosed on! I bet you can't resist that!” She tossed it as hard as she could. It hit the ground, bounced, and rolled away out of sight. “Quick, while she's distracted, uh...” The briefcase was not followed by hundreds of pounds of ravenous sea carnivore. “She isn't going for it. Why isn't she going for it?”
Sweetie Belle facehoofed. “Scootaloo, she's not that kind of shark.”
With another lunge, Sharktavia took a flying leap straight for Scootaloo. The little orange pegasus tried to get out of the way, but the floor board snapped and her left, front leg dangled out. The shark grabbed it, and with a horrible crunch, tore through flesh and bone in one swift bite. As those razor sharp teeth dug in, they somehow managed to miss every single vein and artery in Scootaloo's leg even as it was torn off completely.
She screamed and hobbled back on three legs. “My leg! She bit off my leg! I'm, I'm...” She paused and wiggled the severed stump. “I'm surprisingly not bleeding. Wow. That's awesome! I didn't even think that was possible.”
“Oh no! Scootaloo. Hold on. I'll find a bandage, or, or... something.” Frantically pawing around, Sweetie Belle sighed and held up the pink streamer again.
“I bet you can't do that with my other leg,” Scootaloo said. She waved her right hoof tantalizingly over the edge.
“SCOOTALOO!” Sweetie Belle winced as the shark lunged up, snapping off another orange limb.
“Hahahahaha! Check it out! She bit off both my front legs and I'm not bleeding one bit!” Scootaloo buzzed her wings while balancing on her hind legs. She waved the somehow not-bloody stumps in the air.
“Yuck. That's gross.” Sweetie Belle stuck out her tongue.
“I'm gonna have ta agree,” Apple Bloom said, muffled, “If yer gonna get in the shark, just get in the shark. Don't come in piecemeal. Ew.”
Something large snapped under them and the clubhouse suddenly lurched over. With another crack, the tree limb holding it up gave out completely and the whole structure came crashing down. Now little more than a crumpled set of four walls, the remaining one and two thirds Crusaders found themselves penned in with a dazed shark. The collapse of the clubhouse also messed up Shartavia's stylish mane.
Once she got back on her hooves, Sweetie Belle ran for the door. It was splintered, split right down the middle, but also jammed. She couldn't get it to budge. The nearest window had collapsed, and the one opposite it was blocked by the fallen tree limb. “We're trapped.” She gulped. “We're doomed.”
“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.” Scootaloo was too busy wincing in pain to do anything useful.
Sharktavia stirred, snapping branches and ruffling leaves. She shook herself, Then turned to the Crusaders and starting lurching towards them. Wobbling back and forth, the gray shark kinda slithered, moving like a bloated snake.
She wasn't very fast, and Sweetie Belle could easily outrun her, even if she couldn't escape. Scootaloo wasn't quite so lucky, though. Hobbling on her hind legs, she had to use her wings to keep herself propped up. She could barely walk, struggling to stay ahead of the snapping jaws.
“Sweetie Belle, wait for me!” Scootaloo cried. Hopping, she was slow to make a corner inside the ruined wreck and the shark gained on her. “I can't run with only two legs!”
“Well, you should have thought of that before you started feeding yourself to the shark!” She yelled back from the other side of the room.
With another bone-crunching snap, Shartavia bit off one of Scootaloo's hind legs. The little pony screamed, but didn't stop running. In fact, she was more buzzing than hopping, with her wings doing most of the work. “Wait a minute. I just had an idea. Quick, eat my last leg.” She buzzed up in the air, holding it out for the shark to grab.
“Obviously, you didn't learn your lesson the last time.” Sweetie Belle winced at the sound of another bone-crunching snap. She tried to climb up the broken tree limb to see if she could get over the wall, but there were too many branches in her way and they were unsteady, shifting under her weight. She backed down.
“Hahahaha! I knew it! All along, it was the weight of my legs that was holding me down. Check it out. I'm flying! I'm actually flying!” A limbless Scootaloo buzzed overhead, followed below by a snapping shark who was twisting about, trying to bite the flying morsel.
Sweetie Belle gasped. Beyond the buzzing pegasus was a clear, blue sky, free of broken walls, snapped branches, and ravenous sharks. “Scootaloo! That's perfect! Fly away! Get help!”
Laughing and swooping, Scootaloo spun about, enjoying her newfound freedom. Shartavia's jaws snapped in the air, just inches from the tip of her purple tail. She suddenly swooped low, stretching out her neck. “I bet I can fly even faster without my head!”
“SCOOTALOO!” Sweetie Belle yelled. The shark closed in for the kill. She winced and covered her face. “I can't watch.” There was another bone—snapping crunch, and when she opened her eyes again, Scootaloo was gone. She sniffled. “What a moron.”
Now down to the last one, Sharktavia lurched forward across the splintered remains of floorboards, crunched china, smashed cake, scattered streamers and confetti. The broken walls of the clubhouse loomed around them, along with a giant tree limb from the broken plant above. When Sharktavia crashes a totally-not-being-eaten-by-a-shark party, she crashes it.
Sweetie Belle scrambled to avoid the snapping jaws, which was a lot harder now that they were focused solely on her. Sure, she was faster, but there wasn't much room to maneuver and there was a lot of stuff in the way to watch out for. She had to avoid poking branches and buckled boards. If she ran too fast, she could trip, but if she was too slow, she'd be eaten. She had to take her chances and run as quickly as she could.
As the shark thrashed about, twisting, it bumped into the walls, further damaging them. One collapsed completely.
Sweetie Belle saw that as her lucky break. After luring the shark to the opposite side of the room, she made a mad break for the fallen debris, scrambling over the rubble. A board snapped under her weight, and her hoof sank down, getting stuck. “No!”
Shartavia twisted around, jaws wide.
The little white unicorn yanked, but she was stuck fast. There was only one thing left that she could do. Pulling out her day planner, she scribbled away fervently. “If I cancel that, move that, reschedule this and this...” She snapped the book shut, with a grin on her face. “Perfect! From now until three o clock, I have plenty of time to get eaten by a shark.”
A shadow loomed over her and she let out a scream and curled into a ball before Sharktavia came crashing down. Her scream was abruptly cut off.
“Uh, hi. Is that you, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Ugh, yeah. Hey, you're not dead yet?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“Um, no. Why would I be?”
“Because you've been eaten by a shark!”
“Yeah, so?”
“Do you know what happens when you've been eaten by a shark?”
“No, what?”
“You get digested by a shark.”
“Ew, that sounds gross. I don't wanna do it.”
While her meal was arguing with itself, Sharktavia stared at her sharkliscious reflection in a broken pane of glass. She bumped her head against the branches of the fallen tree limb, trying to straighten out her ruffled mane.
“You have to,” Sweetie Belle said. “It's a rule.”
“Well who made up such a dumb rule?” Apple Bloom asked. “It's stupid.”
“The shark that ate us makes the rules.”
“Well forget it. You can be digested. I'm not gonna be.”
“Apple Bloom, you can't ignore the rule. It's a rule.”
“Ya I can.”
“No you can't.”
“Well if y'all wanna be digested, then go ahead and get digested.”
“What? No way! You were eaten first, so you should be digested first.”
“No you.”
“You.”
“You.”
“You.”
“You.”
“You!”
“You!”
Sharktavia shifted, adjusting the tiny pink bow around her neck against a window frame. With her smooth mane, sharp look, and hundreds of razor sharp teeth, she had a grin that could kill.
“We'll have to flip for it,” Apple Bloom said.
“We're in a shark,” Sweetie Belle said.
“So?”
“Flip what? How?”
“Oh, right, hmm...” There was a brief pause as Apple Bloom contemplated. “Rock Paper Scissors?”
“It's dark in here and we have hooves.”
“Well... what if we draw straws?”
“What straws?” Sweetie Belle replied. “This isn't going to work.”
“No no, we can make it work. Aside from us, what else is in here?”
“Um.” Sweetie Belle squirmed around. “Scootaloo's legs and her head, and this is really gross, by the way.”
“Yeah! We can each pick one of Scootaloo's legs. Whoever gets the shorter one gets digested first.”
“You're on!”
The both squirmed, grabbing a leg at random.
“Ha!”
“Ha!”
“Um, it's dark. Who won?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Hold on a sec.” There was more squirming. “Feel that? My Scootalimb beats your Scootalimb. That means you get digested first,” Sweetie Belle said triumphantly.
“Aw man.”
Having straightened herself up, Sharktavia wiggled over the open remains of the Cutie Mark Crusader clubhouse. She flopped about, going on the prowl in the only way that a fish on dry land can: awkwardly.
“Wait a minute,” Apple Bloom said. “If Scootaloo's legs and head are in here, then where's the rest of her?”
Sweetie Belle gasped. “That's right! She was going to fly off and get help. Apple bloom, we're saved! She's going to save us!”
There was a brief pause as Sharktavia's belly said nothing.
“Without her head?”
~cCc~
Ponyville's sheriff and police chief was carefully stacking a deck of cards. Two deputies were in the room, asleep on their chairs. A heavy thump against the window caused them all to jerk. The house of cards crumbled.
The police office was made from stone blocks, and decorated with wanted posters, notices, and employee mugs. The door was propped open, as the weather was pleasant and it showed a 'community spirit.' Still, it was rare for ponies to come to them with their problems. The back wall lined with a cork board that was covered in the pinned corpses of ponies probably had something to do with that. Just a hunch.
A small, limbless and headless orange pegasus thumped against the window again. One of the deputies opened it.
The third time, Scootaloo flew inside and thumped against the cork board on the back wall.
“What is that?” A deputy asked. This pony was a lanky gray pegasus with a black mustache. His blue police garb suited him well.
The other deputy was a lighter gray, heavily built, and had a dark stubble around his chin. He stared at the scene with a stone expression that could be the foundation for any number of poker games.
The sheriff kicked back, pulled out a large pin from his desk drawer, and poked it into the tiny body thumping against the wall. Scootaloo might have survived getting all of her legs and head bitten off, but having a spike rammed through her heart was a bit too much. Her buzzing wings faltered, slowed, and stopped.
“I'll tell you what it is,” the sheriff said. The deep blue unicorn with a pinned beetle for a cutie mark pulled out a roll of yellow tape. He cut a piece off, tied it to Scootaloo's pin, and wrote 'Exhibit C.' “It's evidence. That's what it is.”
“Evidence of what?” The first deputy asked.
“See these here corpses?” The sheriff pointed at the wall. Aside from Scootaloo, two other ponies were missing limbs. The both had shocked expressions, with one clutching his chest where the pin went in. “It fits a pattern. I'd bet my hat that the shark's at it again.”
The deputies gasped.
“And this victim's fresh, too. You know what that means, boys. Get out there and bag us a fish!”
Grabbing spears from a weapons rack, the two deputies hardened their faces. Lines grew deeper, and brows lowered. Properly armed, they marched out of the office. Nothing would stop them in their sacred duty to bring justice and protect the innocent.
“Where are we going?” the first one asked.
The other shrugged.
The pursuit of justice abruptly came to a halt.
“Um... do you think we should have asked that pony who came in where the shark was?”
“The one without a head?”
“Oh. Good Point.” The first deputy fiddled with his mustache. “You know, I've never seen a headless pony running around before. I always that that would be a bit more...”
“Fatal.” The other one said. The big deputy drummed his hoof against his spear. “It's almost like that wasn't a pony at all. More like...”
A squawking brown hen ran past them in the dirt road across the open street.
“I was going to say like something else with its head cut off, but then I remembered that we're ponies and we don't go around cutting the heads off of things.”
“Yeah.” The first deputy nodded. “That would be random and cruel.”
Fluttershy flew past, swooping down to grab the wayward chicken who bawked in protest. “There you are! I'm so glad I found you. You should know better than to run off like that.” The chicken fidgeted and struggled in Fluttershy's grip. “There, there. It's okay. Everything's going to be all right.” With her cuddling and nuzzling, the fowl calmed down.
“Uh, excuse us, Miss,” the first deputy said, “but do you know where a small, orange pegasus with a purple tail who was probably in possession of more of her limbs might have been recently?”
“Oh. That sounds like Scootaloo. She usually hangs out with her friends at the clubhouse on Sweet Apple Acres this time of day.” She clutched her chicken close. “Now come on, Walda, we have to get you home. The portal to the Dimension of Pain is only open for five more minutes. We'd better hurry or you'll miss it.”
“Ba-Gawk!” Walda protested as they flew off, leaving feathers fluttering down.
“Thanks, ma'am,” the first deputy said, waving his hat. He thumped his spear against the ground. “Well? You heard what she said. Let's get going!”
~cCc~
They soon arrived at the scene of the crime. The broken and shattered club house laid before them. Splinters and broken boards where everywhere and there was a great scar on the tree above where its limb used to be.
“It looks like a giant foot just stomped on it and crushed everything,” the first deputy said.
“What kind of monster could have done this?” the other one asked.
Nearby shuffling and crunching leaves caught their attention. Sharktavia was attempting to hide behind a tree, but she was far too big for that.
“Maybe it was the shark?” the first one said, pointing his spear at the offending sea monster.
“Hmm. Could be. Our suspect is a shark too. We may have found the culprit.”
Flying over, the two police ponies hung in their air, pointing their spears down. “Halt! You're under arrest!”
“Now wait a minute,” the second one said, “this could be some other, completely unrelated giant gray shark with beady, lavender eyes, a stylish, slick mane and cute pink bow tie.”
“Oh. Good point. We wouldn't want to arrest the wrong shark.” The first one rubbed his mustache, then made a jabbing motion with his spear. “Are you the one responsible for wrecking this place and gobbling up ponies?”
Sharktavia shook her head.
“There. You see?” The other one said. “We almost made a terrible mistake. Now come on, we've got to find some other rampaging shark that looks exactly like this one.”
“What? No! Don't agree with the shark!” Sweetie Belle's voice cried out from inside Sharktavia's belly.
“Yeah! She totally did it! She wrecked everything and ate us!” Apple Bloom yelled.
The police ponies narrowed their eyes and flew closer, spears mere inches from the sandpaper skin. “Sounds like you've been caught red hand-er, finned!”
“You aren't getting out of this one,” the other said.
Sharktavia waved a flipper, pointing back at the ruined clubhouse. The first deputy looked where she was pointing, then broke off, flying down to the ground. He picked up a black, leather-bound briefcase and popped it open. Papers poured out. “Real estate documents!” he cried.
“What? Let me see.” The second one broke off as well, and he drooled a bit when he picked up a sheaf of paper. “It's a gold mine!”
“What? No it isn't!” Sweetie Belle yelled. “Those are all signed and notarized. It's all perfectly legal.”
“Yeah. Quit gawking and just arrest the shark, already,” Apple Bloom said.
Sharktavia, however, had other plans. While the police ponies were distracted, she made a break for it.
~cCc~
Hours later, the two deputies returned to the office. Their heads were hung low and the first one held his hat over his heart. The second one clutched his spear tightly and repeatedly shook his head.
The sheriff sat up at his desk, leaning on his forelegs. “Well, did you get it? Did you finally catch that shark?”
“Uh...” the first one with the mustache looked at the floor.
“Got away,” the other, big, heavy-set one said.
“We almost had her,” the first one said, “but she escaped into the ocean.”
The sheriff winced and beat his hoof against the desk. Quills and ink bottles rattled. “Damn it all! At this rate we'll never catch Ponyville's most notorious murderer. How many more will it take? How many more innocent souls have to die before justice is finally met? And-wait a minute.” He scrunched up his blue face and leaned down, giving his deputies the evil-eye. “The ocean? We're in Ponyville for Twilight's sake! The nearest ocean is hundreds of miles away!”
“I stand by my ridiculous statement,” the first one said.
“Stupid, clever Sharks,” the other one muttered.
The sheriff rubbed his head. “Ugh. Could this day possibly get any worse? What I wouldn't give to solve something for once and actually close a case.”
“Uh, it's funny you should mention that,” the first one said. “You see, we were both thinking about that other unsolved case with the serial killer and we came across some pretty convincing evidence recently. Isn't that right, Brick?”
Brick nodded.
The first one put his hat back on and fidgeted with his shirt collar. “We, uh, we, well...”
“Doorknob, if you know something to say, just say it,” the sheriff said.
Nodding, Doorknob looked his superior in the eye. “We had hunch, but decided to wait a couple more murders just to see if we were right.”
“There's a pattern,” Brick said. He clutched his spear tightly.
“Yes,” Doorknob said. “The killer prefers using long needles as his weapon of choice.”
“The fiend!” the sheriff said.
“And there's more. He'll pin his victims to a cork board, and leave them there. They struggle and die, trapped amid the rest of his victims.”
“What kind of pony would do such a thing?” the sheriff asked.
Brick said nothing, instead pointing past the sheriff at the desk to the wall of atrocity at the back of the room. Impaled ponies frozen in various shapes of shock, horror and pain lined the cork board wall.
The sheriff's eyes bugged out. “Y-you mean, it was me all along? I'm the murderer? I-I- Noooooo—”
He stopped screaming, his eyes darted around and he cackled fiendishly. “They'll never pin it on me. There's no evidence—”
“You mean that entire wall behind you labeled 'evidence?' ” Brick asked.
Once again, the sheriff turned around. Sure enough, the wall was labeled 'evidence.' “Nooooooo!”
~cCc~
Misty eyed, Applejack and Rarity converged at the battered and broken clubhouse. Its sorry remains was all that was left of their little sisters. The apple tree leaned back, its weight thrown off due to missing half its canopy.
Applejack suddenly broke down sobbing. She ran over and hugged the tree. “Leafington! No! Don't go into the light! Be strong, and you'll live. You can still make it! Ah believe in you!” She paused and pushed her hat back. “Um... and Ah guess Apple Bloom was eaten by a shark. That's kinda a bummer.”
Leaning back, Rarity covered her face with one foreleg. “Sweetie Belle, no!” She sobbed rivers. “How could you run off and leave me all alone? It's the worst possible thing!” She dragged in an entire lush, velvet couch just so that she could theatrically fall down on it.
“Huh, what's this?” Applejack dug into the remains and pulled out a little back book. “Sweetie Belle's day planner?”
“Let me see that!” Rarity yelled with a hoarse voice. She snatched it from Applejack's grip with a tug of her magic, pulling it in front of her face. She flipped it opened and gasped. “This is amazing! It's wonderful! It's the best possible thing!”
“Huh?”
Zipping over, Rarity leaned against Applejack. She flipped open the book and held it in front of both of their faces. “See? Look here.” She pointed a hoof at it.
Applejack squinted. “Uh. She was having a party with her friends, but she crossed it out and wrote 'get eaten by a shark' instead.”
“Yep! And after that, she was going to have tea with me, but she rescheduled, and I get to have tea with her day planner instead.”
“What.”
Rarity hummed. She pulled the broken table out of the wreckage, propped it up with a stack of splintered boards, made a makeshift tablecloth from a tattered curtain, and set out a pitcher of steaming liquid and two cups. She sat at one end of the table, and propped up the day planner at the other end. Leaning down with her head on her hooves, she smiled, wide and content.
“Wait. So yer telling me that you're okay with it if Sweetie Belle runs off and gets eaten by a shark as long as she makes room for it in her schedule?”
“Of course! Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because, um...” Misty-eyed, Applejack sniffled and pawed at the dirt. “I wish Apple Bloom had a day planner.”
~cCc~
The ocean's roar waited for no pony. Waves tumbled over each other, scrambling to pour onto the beach, before slurping back and sinking into the sand. Gulls called and flew around. The scent of salt wafted in the air, blown in with the sea breeze. A bright sun loomed overhead, baking the ground to the point where it hurt to touch the beach sand with bare hooves.
Octavia groaned as water lapped against her back side. She stirred, and her head pounded. Her insides burned like fire. Scrambling, she knocked off kelp from her belongings and rooted through them. Popping open a can of Sharkto Bismo, she drank the whole thing. As the pain receded, she started to have lucid thoughts again.
“Ugh, my head,” she groaned and rubbed at her face. At least she was a pony again, and her stomach wasn't arguing with itself anymore. Wait. What happened out there? Thinking was hard, but if she didn't remember now, then she probably never would.
She'd been swimming in the sea for an hour? Two? More? At some point, one of the ponies she ate realized that they were in the ocean. They then both declared that they couldn't swim and promptly drowned.
She shook her head. She was really going to have to cut back on that whole gobbling-up-ponies-while-transformed-into-a-shark thing. After all, people might get the wrong idea and think that she was an elephant or something.
