Gibby Some Slack (or: Tact, why do you exist?)
Author's Note
I am fully prepared to evaluate my self-worth after writing this.
also, this short-story was 100% written by phone, so feel free to point out any mistakes—there are-a plenty i'm sure
Gibby Some Slack (or: Tact, why do you exist?)
"So... I have magic now?" Gibby asks nonchalantly, the white horned creature before him flabbergast at his sudden appearance. He glances between his fingers, noticing the small equine for the first time. A grin forms quickly. "Gibbeeeh." With a curt shake of his head, he promptly puts his hands down.
The white horse remains still. Its blue, unintelligent eyes practically pinpricks, it stutters out quickly and quietly: "what in the nine rings of Tartarus is this unholy creature before me." Well, something along those lines anyway. Gibby continues to smirk down at her. Silently. Disturbingly silently as he waits for her to respond.
"Man, I love Canada. Did you know it's a country? Nothing at all like Idaho apparently." Was, anyway. His question sends shivers up the horse's spine. Weird how he can see visible goosebumps over her fur, but Gibby is thoroughly accustomed to the weird. He continues: "Bet you didn't know I was a diplomat for a bit, but then they booted me out when they found out I wasn't Canadian. Or a diplomat. Bit rude, but Gibby does what Gibby do, so now I'm an interplanetary Giblomat." He shrugs and the horse has yet to say a word.
That he could hear, anyway.
Gibby places his hands over his hips, smacking his lips. "Weird how that's the last thing I remember," he pauses. "Come to think of it, that was yesterday right before I went to bed..." Gibby hums in thought. His brows furrow. "Dangit mom! I told you when my world-hopperinator showed up not to set it up without Gibbeh!"
Again, outside of what he could hear, his strange companion has yet to say anything. "What. The crud. Is a Gih-be?" Oh, nevermind.
At this response, Gibby frowns. This scares the horse more than his strange behavioural slash conversational abilities.
"Jeez priss, mom brought you here too, Freddie?"
. . . . .
So, after a long and heartfelt journey, what would have been a five minute walk turned into a dropping-off at a treehouse—which turned further into a twenty minute heavily question-filled tour with a purple winged and horned pony. Which actually exist on this planet apparently. Ponies are a mythological creature where he comes from, he so blatantly told this one.
Of course, the only answers he received were mostly what-are-yous, how-did-you-get-heres, and why-are-you-talkings but Gibby understood how to read in-between the lines.
Twilight, who drastically reminded Gibby of Spencer—for some odd reason—is evidently working for royalty and it seems like Ryan Seaquestria, the coolest planet he's ever been on, needs a Giblomat. Freddy, wherever here went after he ditched Gibby, is obviously trying to set one of his oldest friends up with his favourite career.
Being a diplomat for a solid 14 minutes was the most fun he ever had; Canada loved it when he declared war on Idaho. Because Idaho will rue the day for being a country within a country.
Diplomats totally have that kind of power. Gibby approved.
He really has to thank Fredward later.
"You're hired, I'll be your Giblomat. Your kind ~~holy shit I did not just write that~~ definitely needs the Gibby touch," he says for some reason very coquettishly.
Twilight is left aghast.
He takes that as a yes and smiles.
"Gibbeh." He pulls a resume out of his pocket.
. . . . .
Apples. Well cores, anyhow, are littered about everywhere amidst the base of the tree Gibby finds himself waking up under. A tired grin plasters across his face. Lowly, a Gibbeh escapes his lips. Twilight neighs a tad as she, too, stirs awake. Gibby scritches her behind the ear as he stares off into the distance with a content smile on his face. He simply watches as a small orange figure in the distance makes its way towards them.
He yawns, tasting the previously devoured fruit on his breath. He worked hard picking all of those apples off of the tree, he deserved the sweet, red reward at the end. He was just as surprised as Twilight to find that he could eat every single fruit from the now fruitless tree. Not as grossed out as her, but still as surprised.
The orange figure grew closer and both Gibby and Twilight noticed the encroaching cowpony didn't look all to happy. He wonders what his new friend did? Because yes, she's totally his friend. And she's the one who totally did something.
Probably the only reason why she stayed with him while he ate. That, or just to document the creature known as Gibby, but he doesn't know if that's for sure. Either way, he understands.
That's what friends do, they lie to each other. Yeah. That's definitely the moral of the story.
The orange, cowhat wearing cowpony finally stops in front of the two. Just at the edge of where the apple cores form an invisible barrier. She definitely looks steamed. "Twalaght, wot en tarnation iz thet critter 'n' whah iz et eatin' aul mah appuls?!" It, apparently a she, speaks cleary the sentence I struggled the hardest to write, and Gibby is unfazed.
Twilight, for some reason able to understand the hat horse's unintelligible accent, glances between Appuljeck and Gibby. Her gaze lingering on the latter of the two with a a oddly familiar grin slowly forming. "I, ah, can't rightly tell you, Applejack. It's ah, what do you call yourself again?" She asks Gibby, as if she truly doesn't know.
She does, but he doesn't know she does know, so no harm, now foul. His name just has to grace her lips one more time. Gibby opens his mouth. "Gi-"
"Gibby, right. It's a Gibby." Only to close it as Twilight speaks over him. "He's, ah, well you see, uhm..." she pauses, trying to word her thoughts—all scattered about as they are. "From where he's from, he's a dipl-Giblomat, which is apparently a... well, I want to say anarchy-type governing system, but Giblomacy works where he's from. After the great war with Idaho—the scum—world peace was achieved." She stops, her eyes wandering to meet Applejack's own. A sheer intensity lies in her stare.
"In short, he's my new teacher. And I want. To learn. Everything." Her words are forceful.
"Giblomacy is the peace we need Giblomacy is the future of Equine kind." Her words are just.
"And if Giblomacy is eating apples and you don't like that." Her words are harsh.
But most importantly: "You can suck an egg, Applejack," her words are Gibby's.
Applejack steps back in fright at the crazed glint in Twilight's eyes. All the while Gibby slips back into his slumber with a smile on his face.
The last thing he hears is Twilight speaking to Applejack. Something that makes his smile grow further more.
"Gibbeh." And it was then, his words became hers to share.
. . . . .
The End.
There was totally no forming of a cult in the making of this monstrosity.
