Donkey Show

Donkey Show
Travelling
Mister Coffee

The trip from Appleoosa to Dodge Junction gave Moke and Jennet plenty of time to talk.

“That went pretty well, sis.”

Jennet nodded in reply. She was the thinker of the pair; he went along with what she said.

They walked another mile in relative silence until he spoke again. “Didn’t you think?”

“Yeah.” She took her eyes off the road for a minute to look at him. “You been keeping track of our potions?”

“We’ve got plenty left before we need to restock. If we’re careful, we can make the rest of our circuit without needing any more. Why?”

“Well, I was just thinking . . . we could have done better.”

“Well, maybe.” He cast his mind back to the crowd; they’d seemed willing enough to him. But he wasn’t the thinker.

“I just didn’t feel the usual vibe from the crowd. Not as many ponies came up on stage, not as many as last year.”

He’d noticed that, too, but didn’t want to say anything. To his mind, that had been her problem, not his.

“I dunno.” They’d made plenty of bits; there had been no financial concerns.

“I felt it.” Her voice was firm, sure. “I think we need to work on the opening.”

“The opening.” Moke frowned. He had a speech, and since he wasn’t the smart one, it had been practiced and practiced until he could give it in his sleep.

“Not your speech,” she said. “That’s fine.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “So, what, then?”

“I think it’s me.”

“No.” He thought it was her, too, but he couldn’t say that. Not just because he didn’t want to insult her, but because he didn’t know why he thought that.

“You know as well as I do,” she muttered. “I’m just not—well, last year, and the year before, it’s been the same act. Maybe we ought to change things up. What if—”

He put his head down and concentrated on the road beneath his hooves. He didn’t want to interrupt her when she was in a thinking mood.

“Dodge Junction isn’t all that big.”

That deserved a response. “No.”

“If we get it wrong, we’re not out much.”

“Not really. And we did okay in Appleoosa.”

“It’d give us a chance to practice before we hit some of the bigger towns.” She slowed, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. “We’ve got plenty of potions.”

“Yes.” He glanced over at her again. She had a small frown, not of displeasure, but of resignation. Of determination.

He had no idea what she was thinking, and that didn’t matter. She was the smart one, and she’d tell him when she’d turned it over in her mind. She’d think about the idea from all angles and he’d do what she wanted to because the whole thing had been her idea from the very beginning.

At first he’d been hesitant. He’d thought about it, any stallion in his position would have, but it wasn’t until she’d said how there was a need and how they were in a position to address it in a way that ponies weren’t.

The first year they’d only hit a couple of towns, and they’d worked on their show and she’d done most of the speaking because he wasn’t the smart one, but that had changed. She’d read the crowds and they wanted a confident stallion—or jack—to start things off.

“How much farther is Dodge Junction anyway?”

“Ten, fifteen miles. I don’t remember exactly. We’ll be there in time for dinner.” He kicked a rock off the path. “You need a rest? You hungry? I’ve got some oats in my saddlebag.”

“No, I was just wondering. You know, we could do a private showing.”

“You’ve never wanted to do that before.”

“I know, I was just thinking out loud.”

“If you think it’s the right thing to do.”

“We could hit some of the cities,” she said. “Canterlot, Manehattan, Fillydelphia.”

“Yeah.” There was a bit of dirt or something under the strap for his saddlebags and it was starting to irritate him. “There’d be competition.”

“Not like us.”

“No.” While there might be other donkeys, there wouldn’t be brother and sister acts. “We’ve never really brought that up, though.” It was time to be honest. “I don’t want to change the opening speech unless you really think we have to. Saying we’re siblings, that might cause problems.”

“But with a larger potential audience, it might attract a, um, a different clientele. And we could charge more. Since it’s unique.”

He nodded. She might be right about that.

“I don’t know. You’re right, maybe it’s a bad idea.”

“You’ve got your friend in Manehattan, what’s her name?”

“The waitress? Sweet Service?”

“Yeah, you could ask her.”

“I could. They’ve got telegrams in Dodge Junction.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll do that.”

“But we can’t until after we get to Ponyville, because if you’re right, we’ll need more potions.”

*****

The two donkeys were both coated with road dust and sweat, and Dodge Junction was a welcome sight.

Moke hung back as Jennet arranged for a room. He knew perfectly well how he looked to innkeepers, and it was no good for there to be a fuss. Better to remain outside on the porch, shifting idly on his hooves on the rough wooden planks. She had a way with words, which when accompanied with her exotic appearance tended to let her get her way.

And the innkeeper might have remembered her from last year. He remembered him coming up on stage.

*****

Dodge Junction lacked a spa, but the hotel made up for it with hot baths in the rooms. Admittedly, the tub was crowded with two, but not too crowded.

She was the smart one, but he was the sensual one and he took the lead in the bath, cleaning the road dust off her coat and out of her mane, lathering and rinsing and conditioning and rinsing again and getting that spot behind her ears that always made her moan in pleasure whenever he touched it with his muzzle.

The water had cooled before she had finished washing him.

He pulled the stopper and the two of them huddled together shivering as the water gurgled down the drain and then as they waited for the tub to refill with fresh, hot water.

They stayed in the bath until that water also began to cool, then dried each other off.

“If you’re going to tell me,” Moke said.

“Of course.” She nuzzled his neck. “Of course I was.”

“You’re nervous.”

“Well—”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Those were dangerous words, but he spoke them just the same.

“I thought about it all day.”

She had; their journey had been largely devoid of their usual smalltalk.

“It’s not like we’ve never done it before,” she said. “Just not in front of an audience.”

For a moment, he couldn’t think of what they hadn’t done in front of an audience, and then he nodded slowly. “Are you sure?”

“It’ll give them more to look at, and isn’t that what we want? Isn’t that what they want?”

“Nice ponies don’t—”

“Nice ponies don’t fuck their sisters.” She touched a hoof to his muzzle. “Now, let’s practice.”