Magical Unicorn Maynonnaise
“May I touch it?”
“...What?” Limerence’s eyebrow arched to a degree that would make Prench architects weep.
“Your horn. May I touch it?” Slip Stitch (PhD, MD, ADHD) however, was not moved by such a display of geometric-supraorbital beauty. He leaned in to the unicorn’s forehead, hoof raised to point at the horn, as if it would get the point across clearer.
“If you let me touch yours I’ll let you touch mine?”
“No.” He pushed the other stallion’s hoof aside. “You’re not even a unicorn.” Limerence shook his head. “I would expect you, of all ponies, to understand exactly what you're asking. So I'm afraid I must decline. What would you even stand to gain by - would you stop that?”
Limerence leaned backwards to keep distance from Stitch’s slowly advancing hoof. He blinked, as if the outburst were a complete surprise to him, and finally set down the foreleg.
“Mr Limerence,” Slip Stitch leaned forward, brows furrowed, his voice the very tone of seriousness. A rare sight for the coroner/confectioner. Coronfectioner. “I would have expected you, of all ponies, to understand! You possess a gift, my dear, a gift! Why, to spray silly string-”
“Is that what this is about?” The baby blue unicorn fiddled with the chain of his pocket watch, incredulity dripping from his tongue like the tempered zap-apple-and-poison-joke syrup that dripped from the coroner’s soda fountain. “A spell for silly string? Doctor Stitch, my brother and I used that on each other when we were foals. It isn’t some revolutionary new arcana that I have.”
“But it is! Any party pony like me can see it clearly! Most spells do not actually produce real silly string, didn’t you know? Mere illusions that only look to interact with the environment. Even the more advanced conjurations that physically interact still fade after a time. Surely then, as a fellow academic you can tell what this would mean? Why, the very fundamentals of partying would be reimagined! Party cannons could be made-again and miniaturized with spell cores based on your techniques! The angry-parent escape measures on my van would be more efficient than ever! I would save over fifteen-point-seven-two percent of my monthly budget on silly string incineration!” He took Limerence’s cheeks in his hooves and shook the unicorn so hard his eyes shook in their sockets. “How can you not see how importantly amazing this is?!”
Limerence blinked and refocused his vision, making eye contact with the white maned stallion before him. He saw behind his eyes a certain fire. A fire of determination, curiosity, and excellence. A will to further knowledge for its own sake, not for that of greedy politicians or power-hungry megalomaniacs. The eyes that Limerence saw as he drank in their bright hue - they reminded him of himself.
That, and a will much more persistent than his own stubbornness. He sighed.
“Ugh...fine. I will allow it.”
Stitch broke into a crazed grin, mane puffed out like a firecracker had been set off in it, looking like a foal in a candy store. (which was like most days, mind)
“Ahahahahaha! This is stupendous! Stumptous! Suprasegmental!” The blue earth pony picked up the lighter unicorn by the barrel and skipped off. “Thalassemia! Prepare the chair in dentistry room zero-two! I’ll need root beer, cherry pop rocks, a blanket, and two magic hangover kits! And bring a measuring cup!”
Limerence’s face grew terse as his mouth ran dry. A feeling of dread washed over him as it often did when he accompanied his friends in life-or-death adventures. He wished for a thing he had not wished for in a long time.
He wished to see his mother.
“All I’m saying, Hardy, is that you’ve got all the time in the world now! Why not sit back, relax, have some fun? Take the time to stroll through a park and smell the roses?” Sweet Shine walked through the halls of the morgue with her friend an oft-unwilling partner in crime, Hard Boiled. “Or do you prefer lilies?”
“Oh I would, but we can’t exactly do any of that with Limerence missing, now can we, Sweets?” Hardy’s eyes scanned the tiled halls decked with streamers and balloons. “Where is he? Thalassemia said they were around here…” He muttered. “And stop trying to probe me about them!”
“Me, probe? Nah, I was just asking what kind of flowers I should get you for your wedding!” The mare ducked just in time to avoid an elbow swung in her general direction.
“Sir! I think I’ve found them!” The voice of Swift Cuddles called out from ahead. “They should be over here! I don’t know what kind of experiment Stitch is doing, though. Sounds strange. Tourniquet’s telling me that it’s drawing quite a lot of power, she can’t even guess what’s going on.”
“Good work, Kid! Now get him and lets get out of here!” Hardy called out.
The bright orange pegasus brought her hoof up in mock salute and rounded the corner. The sound of a door opening not a second later. “Limmy! There you are! We’ve been looking all over for - oh sweet Celestia on a stripper pole!”
The sound of moans and groans rang out through the hall, punctuated by the occasional shuddering gasp. Hard Boiled and Sweet Shine glanced at each other, years of experience between them meant they understood the other’s silent question perfectly. The mare was the first to speak.
“Is Stitch…?”
“No. Why would he ever? I mean, it’s not making my butt itch or anything…” Hard Boiled glanced to his rear out of the corner of his eye. The detective’s cutie marks weren’t causing him any discomfort, he noted. A rare feeling for him after the last few months.
Sweet Shine looked back down the hall, and trotted briskly around the corner.
“Everything okay Swift? Is Limerence there? We could…uhm...” She sputtered.
“Swift! Taxi! T-this is...ngh!...ah…”
“I’m so, so sorry!” Swift exclaimed.
“I cannot move my legs.”
Hardy strode forward, intent on finding out exactly what the commotion was. He turned the corner to see Swift and Taxi standing still on either side of a door, and stepped between them.
“Okay, what’s going on her-ah!”
Limerence was laid back on a dentist’s chair, and evidently the source of the gasping moans, his breath loud and quickened. Slip Stitch was straddling the unicorn’s belly, and surrounding them both were copious amounts of silly string of varying shades of blue - most in measuring jugs, but some messily splattered on everything from the stuffed toys on a wall shelf to the potted plant on the other side of the room. The chemical odour hit his senses like a sledgehammer.
“Do you see this!?” The detective turned to his companions.
“No.”
Swift was trying to look away, wing shielding all but the corner of her eyes from the scene. Sweet Shine just stood still by the door and stared.
“So, I take it-”
Slip Stitch held up one hoof to silence them, as the other trailed the tip of his hoof along the unicorn’s horn at an agonizingly slow pace, pulling away from the unicorn’s glowing horn to give it a gentle caress with his tongue and lips. The full-bodied shudder and groan from Limerence interrupted any further dialogue from the observers. Stitch nodded to himself, silently taking down notes with an intense gaze.
The stallion’s ears flicked to the side, finally deciding to respond to his visitors. “Ah, detective! Glad to see you. Actually, Mr Limerence here has been taking it-”
“Did...did you stop? I c-can’t feel….ah!” The unicorn clutched his head in his hooves as the glow intensified and a sharp pfwee sound rang out. Streams of blue shot out of the tip, coating Slip Stitch’s face and chest in silly string, landing in his mane and staining his already dirty lab coat.
Unfazed, the coroner wiped the string from his eyes and hopped off the chair. “As I said, Mr Limerence here has been a great help with my new hypothesis. In fact,” Stitch looked around the room with a grin on his face, gesturing to the overly-generous amounts of Limerence’s horn-string around. “I believe I have enough to write a whole new thesis on! He’s quite the productive research assistant, if I say so myself.”
He picked up a dark brown bottle of soda from a bucket of ice and passed it onto the unicorn, who began drinking greedily. “My apologies for delaying him for so long, but if you don’t mind giving him about five or so, he should be well recovered enough to rejoin you.” Stitch dabbed silly string off his muzzle and took a lick. “Mmm! Minty! I could use this for cupcakes.”
“Long...story...can’t talk...right now.” Limerence panted for breath between gulps, wiping the sweat from his brow as the other three ponies stared at the scene.
“Take all the time you need!” Swift wasted no time flapping her wings for a quick exit.
“I think I need to visit the little filly’s room. Right now.” Sweet Shine muttered as her eyes locked on the figures of Slip Stitch and Limerence, a string of drool beginning to trail from her mouth as she slowly backed out.
Hard Boiled inhaled as if to speak, but suddenly remembered the acrid smell and coughed instead. He didn’t say a word as he turned around and swung the door shut, its slam echoing through the halls.
Slip Stitch lingered on the door for but a moment before shrugging, retrieving a damp hoof-cloth from a basin in the corner. Cheerful accordions began to softly play once again over the speakers after having been cut off by the rude interruption. Limerence sighed and melted into the seat under the gentlestallion’s ministrations as Sitich wiped off the sweat and silly string coating their bodies.
“So...would you be willing to come around again to provide a second data set?”
The archivist did not respond immediately, the fleeting memories of the time he had since lost track of a blur. He did recall some few, key moments. The earth pony’s rigor, his stalwart technique, his passion. Experiencing the doctor’s version of...the scientific method first-hoof brought up a certain excitement deep inside him. A certain...thrill. It made his heart race in a way defying death and/or eternal extradimensional torment never did.
“...I believe we may have blinded poor Swift.” He chuckled softly. Limerence closed his eyes and exhaled; enjoying the fleeting moment of primal, mutual understanding and intellectual intimacy. It was all the reply Stitch needed to know.
Author's Note
So the latest chapter of Starlight brought to me an idea of something I hadn't considered before. There exists a spell that can produce silly string on a whim. It is simple enough for foals to learn and a sufficiently experienced unicorn like the Archivist Limerence can cast it enough to coat an entire hallway(s).
My first thought was: Slip Stitch must never find out. So, naturally, I began thinking up what would happen if he did.
I would say I regret releasing such perversions on the wider world like this, but I'd be lying. Mostly.
Music for reference.
