It's Always The Quiet Ones.

Finding that my line of work is not often talked about in Ponyville, for a fear it's residents hold with the universal evils, I am not very experienced in writing this for the archive.

Usually I simply transmit the days' events onto paper by use of a magical typewriter. Quite a curious machine indeed, its attached to a ramshackle pair of speakerphones, and by placing them over my head the whole days events are copied from my swarming thoughts into bold, inky text. I always found something rather comforting in that. But, like everything else in my office, the intricate mess of keys and paper is either hardly working or broken beyond repair.

Quite recently the typewriter ceased to function, with its dying breath choose to empty the entire contents of its inkwell onto my lap. It was my best pair of trousers. But that's the way of things, everypony wants to forget I'm a part of their delusional little world, hence my lack of funding, because you can't supply what you're desperate to keep hidden. Damn I'm rambling already; I've left out three very important details from this narrative of mine. My name is Frank Parkland, I am a Homo-Saipan, and I am the owner, operator, chief, private eye, and officer of the P.P.D, this being the Ponyville Police department. With the intuition I have gained on the job, I can tell that the reader won't find this usual.

Surely only pony's would inhabit and manage Ponyville, after all they harvest its rich apples, they bake it's cakes, and a select few (I'm informed) have banded together to learn the secrets of friendship and it's powers hitherto. I am so envious of them all, each of their smiling little faces, not having tasted the despair of my world. There is no danger for them, no fear of threats that would strip them of their mortal coil. So you concede that in order to preserve this self same innocence it makes perfect sense that the P.P.D could never be made up from ponies. They'd only break down.

Instead my boss, in her infinite all loving wisdom chose a solitary individual from the 'other plane' that is to say my world, and consequently yours. It was the single most surreal thing in my entire life. I had lived in Plymouth for a time, but drunken youths had no idea how to punch when their blood was mostly alcohol, so for the most part there was little danger to my health. All of that changed June 12th 2011.

It being the summer I had been advised to patrol later, a good rule of thumb being to switch shifts two hours after the sun went down. Perhaps you can picture it, the threshold that my life rested upon. The sun has only just drowned itself in the dark waters, and briny sea wind has caught my eyes off-guard, when over the noise of the surf and monotonous bass of a nearby nightclub my phone rings.

Ready to receive instructions I snapped it from a navy blue strapped pocket to my ear, and requested any new developments back at the station. I apparently had an appointment for transfer, though nothing of the sort had I initiated. These were typically long, complicated affairs that consisted of masses of paperwork and more often than not, several needless drafts, which signed another familiar face out of my life.

Or in this, case my face out from theirs. I entered the office at about half past nine to find a hunched over figure, cloaked in a sort of makeshift windbreaker (for the size and shape of the creature was not of human proportions) and turned away from me, facing out of the back window at the now dark skyline. "So, the sun moves by its own motions in this world... I could be feeling somewhat obsolete." I mused to myself as I pulled up a chair that the individual had a very regal, majestically leveled tone of voice, if however (for I thought this even then) a little pompous. "Should just be on my way out,...(I began to explain) I haven't scheduled any transfer. " The figure remained motionless.

I continued that I was sorry if she had been mistaken in her appointment, and turned sharply toward the door. "I am not mistaken; I have foreseen that you Mr Parkland are to be Ponyvilles' new constable, and that you will follow me to take up residence there this night. Please do not tarry... This has already been decided." Annoyed at the forcefulness of what I thought to be an amateur psychic, I wheeled around to face my would-be employer. I have been told that when I am shocked I squint involuntarily, so much so that I nearly eclipse my vision. Despite having surely done this at the time, I saw everything as clear as day.
A unicorn, with a near-phantasmal mane flowing under the current of an invisible ocean, her eyes should have been that of a common horse, but the striking lashes forbade me to think this. I must have fallen down to a sitting position, because when she next spoke, the windbreaker discarded and her full beauty radiating into the small room, she was standing over me. "We must go Mr Parkland, I scarcely believe you shall accompany me, but something tells me you will understand, that you will not let a land in need of aid go undefended... " To this day I don't know why I accepted. I have little family true, and I half suspect that I am in reality banging my head on the wall of a padded cell, but here I am. I have been here for little over two months now and 'IUNj'...

Frank's hand stabbed the keys mistakenly as he heard a rapping at the door. Uneasily he lifted himself clumsily around the side table and bed, for it wasn't that Frank had an awkward frame, but rather his residence had not been made for his particular set of curious measurements, or so it must have seemed to Ponyville residents. The rapping on the blue, paint-blistered door sounded more agitated. Frank hastily stuffed himself into a pair of trousers (for at 3 am, he shouldn't have be awake let alone dressed.) 'yeah..yeah I'm coming you dumb horse...' It was good fortune that Frank hit his shin on a ill-placed cabinet, for the delay ensured he arrived at the door with a fastened zipper. He yanked at the handle to behold his visitor. "Oh...yes, well p...pardon me...I" A white unicorn with a diamond be-speckled flank looked in agitation at the figure that fully dwarfed her stocky height. His five-o-clock shadow darkened his facial features, ironically matching his reputation thus far. Many ponies had never even heard of a 'HUMEMAN' from the other plane, and Franks' seclusion was as a direct result of this ignorance. But no, it was something more than just seclusion. He was pissed with it.

Franks gaze snapped to Rarity's, and in a half-drunken stupor slurred

"Would ya kindly piss off…I'm just one man for crying out loud. Ya missing dog, or magic hat, or book of the shitting netherworld can wait till the to-morrow."