Changelings Don't Tip Well
I was reading Caves and Strata, the Natural Gems edition, behind the counter when the first changeling flew past. And by flew, I mean slammed into the street hard enough to distract me from drooling over some pieces of faceted quartz.
I whisked the magazine under some coffee-stained newspapers out of learned habit, to keep Steam Wisp from seeing it. The thump hadn’t been my boss trying to get my attention, and a scan of the inside of the coffeeshop showed that no new customers had showed up. Not that I expected many, on the day of the Royal Wedding. Princess Cadence was marrying Captain Shining Armor and most of Canterlot would be there, or lining up to get into the reception afterward for a slice of free cake. If ponies weren’t at the wedding proper, I knew of half a dozen celebratory parties that would be going on all over the city. Not for me though - I had to work.
I had been sour at the start of the day, knowing that I’d be working the shift while my boss ran off to gawk and snatch pictures. Knowing how big a fuss all of Canterlot was making, there might even be free souvenirs given out. Not that I particularly wanted to go see the wedding - but the celebrations would have been nice to poke my horn into.
Left by myself, I consoled myself with a Princess Cadence Latte (extra steamed milk, raspberry and vanilla flavor) and read openly. Apart from the usual morning rush, there had only been a few ponies desperate for coffee, and only one of them had wanted our new release princess drink. (We already had a Celestia and Luna Latte, vanilla and hazelnut, respectively.)
The noise had been the first thing that had disturbed me for a good hour. Nearly immediately after, there was another, then the sound of breaking wood and crashing sounds from all around.
I stared at the wide glass windows at the front of the shop, ears twitching. Those windows were a pain to clean, and there was already a terrible streak of green -
The window broke open and a dark shape burst forward, landing on top of one of the wrought iron tables for two that lined the outside of the room. The table wobbled a little, but being of sturdy design - unlike the center rectangular study tables that the colts and fillies seemed bent on destroying - it didn’t collapse under the four-legged bug monster standing on it. There was this thing, standing in my coffee shop, and it didn’t look like it wanted our Early Bird special.
I noticed a lot of things, all at once. The rosy tint the sky had taken on for the last few weeks of living under the dome shield was gone, returned to its usual blue, though scattered with black dots. The mirrors interlaced between classical paintings on the back wall reflected more of the black creatures outside in the street, in neighboring buildings, and running ponies. The city was no longer generating a steady hum of noise, but a clamorous din of chaos.
“Skreeeee!” the changeling said.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I answered it at the top of my lungs.
The brief moment of pause and (relative) peace vanished in a blink. My stomach clenched and I scooped up a percolator in my magic and hurled it at the changeling. “Get out!”
The stainless steel appliance just banged off its dark exoskeleton and it rose up into the air on its flimsy-looking wings. I was used to pegasus and their large, sturdy and befeathered wings - these bug wings just looked wrong.
A measuring cup and a beaker likewise sailed at it, both missing as it moved to dive bomb me. I was used to having to suddenly dodge overhead attacks, courtesy of my younger brother, and jumped towards the opening in the counter without thinking. Unlike my brother, the changeling didn’t smash into the back wall or the refrigerator, but spun about as soon as it realized it had missed.
I levitated a half pot of Caribou Dark and hurled it at the creature’s head. Then I beat a path to the door, shrieking.
Something wrenched at my back hoof, which suddenly refused to leave the ground, and I sprawled forward with a ungainly lurch. More green goo flew through the air, spreading over my hooves where they met the tiled floor.
The first order of business was to scream again. Then throw sugar packets and coffee cup lids at the changeling. The changeling was too busy hacking up more green goop to notice my barrage, probably knowing that the only thing I could injure was possibly its eyes and wings from paper cuts. I couldn’t reach anything really heavy with my magic, and the only spells I knew were for heating and cooling drinks.
When I was good and stuck to the floor it stopped and began wiping coffee off its face with a perforated foreleg. This close to me, I got a really good look at it, despite all my attempts to not. Its exoskeleton was shiny and black, blacker than even our Midnight Brew, and all over its extremities were these smooth holes that didn’t seem to trouble it much. One of my attack sugar packets was resting just below its hock in one of those holes.
I opened my mouth to say something, and all that came out was a wordless squeak. I shut it again, in some attempt at holding myself together. The Guard will be here any moment… Just gotta make it till then.
The changeling licked its face with a surprisingly normal-looking tongue, if you didn’t look too closely at the mouth full of fangs it had. It stood there, a slightly preoccupied expression on its glossy face. Most of its expressions seemed harder to read than the pony faces I was used to, but it certainly looked...distracted.
A bit of still-hot coffee streamed off its back from the blue frill on its neck it had in lieu of a proper mane. The changeling looked at the windows for a moment, where the rest of its kin could be seen running about, chasing ponies and gooing them down, then turned back to the coffee pot I had thrown at it. In a miracle of manufacturing, the glass hadn’t shattered after bouncing off a changeling then the floor. The changeling stuck its muzzle in the top and drank the three tablespoons of liquid that had survived. It raised its head back up, licking its lips, with that same preoccupied expression.
Of course, it was just my luck that coffee didn’t poison changelings. I watched as it went over to the row of coffee pots, selected another one, and floated it out in a haze of green magic. Heedless of the temperature, it popped the lid and drank out of the top.
The next few minutes were filled with it moving down the back row, drinking out of each of the coffee pots. It seemed to really like the Hazelnut Cream flavored coffee, for it drank half the pot. When it discovered the cup of whipped topping I had just mixed, it slurped up the entire thing without pause for breath. It munched on the toppings of nuts and fresh fruit, then went back to drinking each of the small sample cups I had made two hours ago. It ended by finishing my latte, dumping the lid and straw on the floor to drink straight out of the cup.
I stared, too apprehensive to even think about stopping it. A small pool of dark coffee was spreading next to my secured hoof.
Coffee!
I then came up with probably the dumbest plan in the history of ponykind.
“Excuse me?” My voice cracked. I tried very hard not to think about the fact that I was standing in bug-pony vomit. “Would you like me to make you our special drink of the day? It’s our Princess Cadence Latte, a glorious raspberry and vanilla mix.”
The changeling turned and stared at me.
“Or I can make you a frappuccino, if you want something colder. A chai latte, if you are into chai - I can say that we have the best cinnamon chai on this side of Canterlot….” My voice faltered off as it took a step towards me.
Without saying anything, it came over and hacked up more...stuff to smear on my hooves. Surprisingly, my hooves came free. Then it pointed behind the counter.
“Right, then.” I swallowed, and set out to brew up the best coffee of my life. Somehow, when my parents named me Cold Brew, I don’t think they anticipated this.
In ten minutes the most pressing question on my mind aside from the ever present When is it going to eat me? and When are the Guards going to get here? was Do changelings not need to use the bathroom?
Seriously, the creature had drank at least three full pots of coffee by now, and only one of them had been decaf. That was on top of the various drinks it was having me make by slowly moving down our wall menu and indicating with a hoof tap what it wanted next. Evidently these bug-things could read Equestrian. It showed absolutely no signs of the amount of caffeine it had intook. All of seemed slightly unreal. There was a member of the bug-creature race that all I knew of was that they were attacking us, standing in my shop, drinking my coffee.
I was mixing up another (my third) cup of whipped topping when there was a whoosh of air, a burst of cries from outside, then a wall of raspberry-pink magic swept through the room. A wash of contentment filled me as I stood in the midst of coffee paraphernalia, followed by a desire to hunt my parents and brother down and hug them. I didn’t know how to describe it exactly, only it felt like the kind of emotion that came on a good day, when you notice all the small things that make you happy and really see the special ponies in your life.
The changeling however, was physically caught by the pink wall and smashed against the wall. Then, as my jaw dropped, through the plaster and drywall and into the alley by the dumpster. It didn’t make a sound, but the thudding it made as its chitin impacted the wall had me wincing.
A moment later, I stuck my head out the door, in time to see the other changelings reverting to distant dots on the horizon as the magic hurled them away. Except, of course, for the ones who had been caught in buildings or against walls.
Looked like Harmony had won again. I sagged on my hooves, leaning against the doorway, and took quite a few deep breaths. Of course, there had never been any doubt in my mind that the Princess or the Elements of Harmony would do something to save us, but I had wondered if I was going to get hurt along the way.
When I felt calm again, I glanced in the direction the changing had gone. I was glad it was gone...but at the same time, I wanted to know what had happened to it. I tiptoed over cautiously, avoiding other piles of green goo, and looked at the pile of black chitin laying on the ground.
“More coffee,” the changeling croaked.