1. Something Trixie This Way Comes
There are times in life when a pony is filled with a joy that is so sublime that they wish that exact moment would never end.
Baked Bean would often think of such moments during his day. He would fondly remember when he was a young colt, happily tumbling around in a favorite park while playing tag with a gaggle of friends. There was the exhilarating moment when his track team had taken first in the state championships, and the thrilling rush of victory that came as he celebrated with his teammates.
The moment that he truly wanted to hold onto forever, though, came every night as he would walk to his home. There was a small park along the route—even though it was nothing more than an open grassy area and a few benches—and each night, he would take several minutes to sit and contemplate the stars above him. The delicate drops of light were always a source of comfort and peace to him, and the random patterns that he could trace took his mind to a place of serene balance and calm. The solace they offered to his soul had only intensified when Princess Luna had returned from exile, and it was always with great reluctance that he would leave that simple place to return to his regular life.
His desperate wish for that moment to last stabbed at his heart like a dagger, since right now was both the most miserable moment of his life, and also the most repeated moment, too.
“Baked!” his father shouted back into the kitchen, his anger boiling over the edge of his self-control. “What are you doing?! I needed that bloomer five minutes ago!”
Baked Bean cried out in alarm as he lifted the lid from a pan and released a thick plume of black smoke. “I know! I’ve just got to… wait, I have this…”
“Are you serious?! C’mon, Baked! You’re killing us here! The house is packed! We don’t have time for this tonight! Move! MOVE!”
Baked Bean fumbled over himself for a moment, desperate to comply with his father’s orders. “I can get this right. I just gotta get the onion in… then, the turnips over...”
Baked Bean rushed over to the deep fryer, but he tripped on a loose potato as he did so and went down with a shriek. The pan of burnt broccoli was sent airborne when his flailing hooves hit the handle, and a round of groans and complaints came from the other nearby chefs as they were sprayed by the fallout.
“Oh, c’mon, Baked!” Garbanzo yelled, his face turning an unnatural and unhealthy shade of beet red. “This can’t be that difficult! You know how to do this!”
“No, I don’t.” Bean’s answer was a whimpered whisper as he stood, his hoof rubbing where his chest had collided with the tile floor. “I can’t do this.”
“Get that bloomer ready, now! The mayor is waiting!”
“Order up!” Baked Bean’s mother burst through the kitchen doors and paused to take in a deep breath. “Baked, I need three cow pies, two swimming bricks, a cheese curd, four boomers—nix the grey stuff—and an around the world!”
“Okay.” Bean drew in a breath. “Two swimming pies, five cow curds. No, wait.” His hooves reached for a nearby carrot, but then they stopped and began to tremble. “Three cow pies, four cheese worlds—no, that’s not right. Boomer first, and then…”
For several long moments, Baked Bean froze in place. His left rear leg was shaking uncontrollably, and his breaths came in sharp, sudden stabs.
He couldn’t handle this. The orders were all jumbled up in his head, and the more he fought to get them straight, the more knotted they became. The pressure was on to perform, and it was crushing him like a grape in a winepress.
“Order up!” Bean’s mother announced. “Baked, I need you to make—”
She didn’t get to complete her sentence. Baked Bean broke like a snapped bean, his entire self unable to fight back against the stress any longer. With a long, feral scream, Bean stuffed two nearby tofu blocks into his ears as makeshift earplugs, bolted from the kitchen, crashed through the main lobby filled with waiting customers, and sprinted out the front door.
His hooves thundered on the pavement as he galloped away from his family’s restaurant, and all of the overwhelming stress that came with it. For years, his parents had tried to train him, to show him how to be a good chef, but his every attempt at cooking ended in burnt vegetables, angry customers, and two profoundly disappointed parents. He desperately wanted to succeed, to finally show them that he wasn’t the failure that they thought he was, but no matter what he did or how he tried, the results were always the same.
Ponies were forced to scatter out of his way as he blindly charged forward with cries of alarm. Baked Bean could only think of one thing: run away. He had to get away from the failure that was his life, from the crushing depression that he would never amount to anything in this world.
A sudden impact with another pony took him off his hooves, and he cried out in pain as he careened off the unforgiving cement and into a nearby hollybush. Whoever he had hit shouted an angry demand for an apology, but his legs began to pump again as soon as they hit the ground, and he said nothing as he dashed into the darkness of the night.
He didn’t care where he ended up. He just had to get away.
“Bean, buddy?” A soft knock came at Baked Bean’s door, and the failed chef shivered under his blanket while he listened to the approaching hoofsteps of his parents.
Instinct had pulled him back to the cold, comfortless confines of his own bedroom, and he had spent the last four hours hiding from the world, and from this inevitable conversation. He felt his bed shift as it accepted the weight of two additional ponies, and a soft hoof touched his shoulder through the blanket.
“Hey, sweetie.” His mother’s softly spoken words were about as comforting as an ice cube during a blizzard. “I think things got a little out of hoof this evening.”
Baked Bean’s official response was a sniffle.
“It was a busy night,” his father added. “And we might have overloaded you just a little. I guess we should have had your mom back in the kitchen too, eh?”
Bean blinked back the tears. His own mother still had to hold his hoof, like he was an infant.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” his mom said. “We’ll get this figured out. You just need more time, that’s all. If we just—”
“No, Mom.” Bean sat up, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hoof. “I’m never going to figure this out. You could give me all the time in the world, and I’m still going to be a pitiful failure. If I haven’t figured out how to cook by now, then I’m never going to get it.”
“Yes, you will,” his mother replied forcefully. “I know you will.”
“I’m not going back.” Bean hung his head in shame, and a tear ran down his cheek. “I can’t go back.”
There was a long, awkward pause, and then his father spoke up. “So, what are you going to do, then?”
Bean’s eyes flicked up to his window, and for several long moments, he studied the small patch of star-studded sky. “I’m leaving. I can’t stay here anymore.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about that writing nonsense again,” his father groaned. “We’ve been over this. It’s just a fantasy, Bean buddy. You’re meant to be a chef, not a writer.”
Bean shook his head. “I bet I could be more successful as a writer, by a long shot. I just…” He stalled, then snorted. “I want to try, Dad.”
The father stared at his son for a moment, his face a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and concern. But after that moment, he smacked his lips and popped onto his hooves. “All right. If that’s what you want, let’s make it happen.”
“What?” Bean asked.
“You really want to try this writing thing? Fine. Let’s get it out of your system,” he offered with a knowing smile. “I think you need a break and some time to get your head on straight. First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll all go down to the train station, and we’ll send you on your way. Go, explore Equestria. Then, in a week or two, you’ll see where your place is, and you’ll be begging to be a chef.”
“And if I don’t return?” Baked Bean challenged.
His father smiled all the more as his mother stood and moved to his side. “Get some rest, son. You’re going to need it.”
Bean’s mind began to race as his parents left his room, his mother asking if this was really such a good idea. His own father, the one who had pushed and prodded him into being the chef he wasn’t, was now offering him freedom. He could leave his home and his parents behind forever. He had the chance to abandon being a chef. He could try new things, see new places.
It was everything that he had ever wanted.
“Trixie is still waiting for an apology, you know.”
Baked Bean launched himself backwards with a frantic flailing of hooves and a screech of alarm. “Who’s there?! Who said that?! How’d you get into my bedroom?!”
The disembodied voice snickered. “Hah. You scream like a little filly.”
Bean whimpered a bit as he tried to flatten himself against the wall behind him. “What is going on?! Are you a ghost? Are you here to haunt me?”
“No, Trixie is not a ghost,” the voice replied with a heavy sigh. “But Trixie is haunting you, yes.”
“Why? I didn’t do anything to you, cruel spirit. Just leave me alone and go away!”
“No! You ran over Trixie, and it hurt! Trixie demands an apology.”
Bean’s fear eased slightly to allow for some curiosity. “What? When did I run you over?”
“On the street? You were running, and you crashed right into the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
Somehow, Bean could see a mare striking a dramatic pose with that statement, even though there was still nopony in his room. “When I ran you over...” Bean’s voice caught in his throat, but he had to ask. “Did I kill you?”
“Trixie is not a ghost!” the voice protested, and inexplicably, Bean heard a hoof stomp on his floor.
“Well, if you’re not a ghost, then why can’t I see you?” he challenged.
“That’s because the Great and Powerful Trixie is invisible, idiot,” the not-a-ghost replied.
Bean blinked once. “Invisible. Great! It’s official. I’ve lost my mind.” He hopped off his bed and began to pace. “I’m hearing voices now, and I just had to pick up a snarky one that insists it’s just invisible. I need to go check myself into the loony bin.”
“If Trixie proves she is really here, will you apologize?” the voice asked.
Bean scoffed. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I don’t see how my schizophrenia is going to prove…”
Bean’s eyes widened as a pink glow lit up the far corner of his room. The blankets on his bed were enveloped with the same pink aura, and before his astonished eyes, they straightened out and floated down to create a perfectly made bed.
“There,” the mysterious visitor said smugly as the light died out. “Proof enough for you?”
“Now I’m hallucinating!” Bean staggered back a few steps. “I’ve gone out to pasture for sure!”
“Trixie is willing to believe that,” the voice said, and Bean gasped when his bed curved slightly to accept the weight of an unseen pony. “But not for the reasons you think you are.”
“Who are you? Really?” Bean asked as the pink glow emerged once more and picked up the picture of his family from his dresser.
“You’re as dumb as a stick, aren’t you? I am the Great and Powerful Trixie, Unicorn Extraordinaire, the most magnificent magician in all of Equestria! Certainly even a stupid, clumsy fool of an earth pony like yourself has heard of my fantastic performances.”
Bean shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“Yokel.” Trixie scoffed, and the picture turned to face him. “Is this your whole family?”
“Um, yeah? Why?”
“Your parents seem nice,” the voice that was now known as Trixie said with a wistful note. “Much better than Trixie’s own parents. You’re lucky.”
“Sure.” Bean plopped his rump on the floor with a snort of derision. “Some luck.”
The picture floated back, and the unseen Trixie cleared her throat. “Anyway, Trixie did not come here to discuss your personal life. Trixie is here for an apology, as she has said several times now.”
“How was I supposed to avoid you if I can’t even see you?” Bean said. “Why are you invisible, anyway? Did you get blasted with some cosmic radiation or something? Or did you fall into a vat of hazardous chemicals?”
“Trixie was cursed by an evil pony, one who could not bear to see a unicorn greater than herself,” she replied. “Trixie is one of the most beautiful unicorns in all of Equestria. Well, when she could be seen. There was nopony else who could compare to Trixie. Except for that accursed Twilight Sparkle,” she added with a growl.
“Just so I can note this for the shrinks who come to pick my brain apart later, you are talking about yourself when you say ‘Trixie,’ right?” Bean asked.
“Yes. Trixie is talking about herself. Trixie always refers to herself this way. It makes her even more Great and Powerful.”
“Or egotistical,” Bean muttered.
“Yes, Twilight Sparkle is surely to blame for Trixie’s current predicament,” Trixie went on, undeterred by Bean’s comment. “She humiliated Trixie! She made Trixie look like a fool in front of the whole town! It’s so unfair! Trixie will have her revenge, one day!”
“An egotistical maniac. Even better.” Bean began to rub the side of his head. “Look, O disembodied Trixie voice, if this Twilight Sparkle really did this to you, then why don’t you just go ask her to undo it? I’m sure she’d be reasonable.”
“No. Trixie refuses to show her face in Ponyville again unless she can teach Twilight Sparkle a lesson.”
“You can’t show your face there now,” he noted.
Bean could practically feel Trixie’s unseen death glare. “That’s not funny, rube.”
“Oh, well, forgive my sense of comedic timing.” Bean stood, and he approached his bed. “So, how long do you plan on staying here? I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”
“Trixie isn’t going anywhere until you apologize to her.”
“Fine. I’m sorry,” Bean huffed.
“No. You need to mean it.”
“That’s all the sorry you’re getting out of me,” he said. “Now get off my bed.”
“No! What kind of bumbling bumpkin are you?!” Trixie gasped. “Ladies always get the bed! You sleep on the floor. And go get Trixie some peanut butter crackers. Trixie is starving.”
“Get your own crackers.” He huffed, then let out a groan. “Why am I arguing with you? You’re just a hallucination.”
“Wait! Don’t jump up—” Trixie shouted, but it was too late.
Baked Bean hopped onto the bed, but his yelp of alarm matched the invisible mare’s cry when his body made contact with another unseen but very real pony. There was a frantic thrashing of hooves and a few more shouts of alarm, but then Bean was bucked back to the floor by a surprisingly strong pair of legs.
“How dare you!” Trixie roared in invisible fury. “No pony is allowed to be near the Great and Powerful Trixie, let alone touch her!”
“You’re real!” Bean gasped, his legs flying out in odd angles as he tried to get himself upright again. “There’s really a mare in my bed! Sweet Celestia, my parents are going to kill me!”
“Baked, sweetie?” his mother’s voice came through the closed door with a knock. “Are you all right?”
The world had a very cruel sense of humor and sense of timing, he quickly decided. “Just fine, Mom!” he called back.
“Who are you talking to?” The door popped open before Bean could do anything to keep it closed, and he quickly scrambled to his hooves as she entered the room. “It sounded like somepony was shouting at you.”
“Nope!” he said with a strained smile. “Nopony here but me! See? Just me! All by myself! Alone!”
Bean’s mom carefully surveyed the room. “Huh. I could’ve sworn I heard a mare in here. She’s not under the bed, is she?” she asked with a wink.
“What?” Bean forced out an awkward laugh. “Ha! Of course not, Mom! I’d never try to hide a mare under my bed.”
Her head dipped to look, but then she turned her full attention to him. “Okay, I trust you. But if you ever do want to bring a mare home, just introduce us to her first,” she said with a grin. “We’ll give you all the space you need. You don’t need to hide anypony from us.”
“You bet, Mom. I’ll make sure to do that.”
“Get some rest, Bean. You’ve got a big day ahead of you tomorrow.”
“I’m practically under the blanket already.”
“I love you, sweetie,” Lima said, and she gave him a kiss on his forehead. “Good night.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
His mother gently closed the door as she left, and Bean let out his pent-up breath as soon as she had.
“Aww, that was sweet,” Trixie’s voice said, the sarcasm heavy in her words. “I almost thought she was going to tuck you in and read you a bedtime story.”
“Shut up,” Bean grumbled. “You’re the one who started this whole mess. Just go away, will you?”
“No way,” Trixie said, and Bean heard his bed squeak slightly. “Your parents are going to be watching your room like a hawk now. What will they think if they see doors opening all by themselves?”
“They’ll think crazy is contagious, that’s what,” he said. “You’re really going to steal my bed, aren’t you?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie thanks you for your kind consideration. She will forgo her demands for peanut butter crackers in exchange for lodging for the night.”
Bean shook his head and moved to his closet for more blankets to sleep on. “Great. I hope you don’t snore.”
“Now, remember, you can come home whenever you want to,” Baked Bean’s mother said over the blast of a train whistle. “If you run out of bits, just send us a telegram and we’ll pay for a ticket home.”
“Got it,” Baked Bean replied.
“Make sure to get plenty of sleep at night, too. Eight consecutive hours,” she went on. “And make sure you get plenty to eat. Don’t just load up on empty carbs, either!”
“Last call for all passengers bound for Vanhoover! All aboard!” a conductor called out.
“That’s me. I gotta go.” Bean drew in a breath, then gave his mother a hug. “I’ll see you later.”
“You be safe, sweetie. We’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Dad,” Bean offered to his father with a frown.
His father put a hoof on his shoulder and chuckled. “Just wait, Bean buddy. You’ll see. This trip is really going to open your eyes.”
“I hope so. I’ll see you later.”
Bean trotted away without further comment, and he clambered aboard the passenger car just as the train began to pull away. He then turned, and with a small grin, he waved goodbye to his parents and to his old life.
With luck, this would be the last time he would ever see Salt Lick, and all of the personal horrors that resided here. No matter what happened, he was not going to return.
He was going to find his place in this world, and that place was certainly not here.
After presenting his ticket to the conductor, Bean had his choice of seats in the empty passenger car. He was grateful to have some alone time, and as he plopped down next to a window, he started to ponder about what the future could hold for him.
“So, we’re going to Vanhoover?” Trixie’s unexpected question sent Bean airborne for a moment with a screech of alarm. “Trixie has been there several times. Nice town. Plenty of wagon parking spaces. Lots of hot cocoa.”
“Why are you here?!” Bean demanded. “I thought you left this morning. Or that I had just imagined the whole thing,” he muttered under his breath.
“Trixie still wants her apology,” Trixie said, and the seat across from Bean sank slightly. “And when Trixie wants something, Trixie gets it.”
“This can’t be happening,” Bean groaned, his face in his hooves. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”
“Besides, Trixie was getting bored with your dull little city,” she went on. “There’s nothing to do. Trixie needs excitement! So, Trixie decided to grace you with her invisible presence while you travel. Provided you don’t go to some other backwater, podunk town.”
“And what if I do?”
“Trixie will pester you incessantly until you leave,” she simply stated. “Now, go get Trixie a double tall, iced half-caff latte with seven pump caramel, a whole-grain croissant with two pads of butter, a toasted blueberry bagel with strawberry cream cheese, and one of those little cookie-brownie things. Trixie is famished.”
“This is going to be a long trip,” Bean muttered as the train’s whistle let out a long, low blast.
Bean couldn’t help but watch on in fascination as the hovering blueberry bagel before him disappeared, bite by greedy bite. There were some happy grunting noises coming from the seat across from him, and a small belch accompanied the carnage.
“Excuse Trixie,” the still-disembodied voice said.
“I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘you’re welcome,’” Bean said.
“Yes, yes. The Great and Powerful Trixie acknowledges your contributions to her glorious self,” Trixie said as a foam cup was enveloped in a pink aura, then hefted and tipped back. “Oh, Trixie needed this.”
“I am so glad I can’t see you digesting all of that.” Bean leaned back and studied the empty space in front of him as he took a bite from his own bagel. “I still don’t get how this happened to you. Why would anypony curse a pony with invisibility?”
“Simple. It’s because Twilight Sparkle couldn’t handle the pure awesomeness that is Trixie.” A few stray crumbs hung in midair for a moment, but were then flicked aside by an unseen hoof. “So she cursed Trixie in a desperate attempt to be more popular than Trixie is. It’s sad what petty lows a pony will stoop to.”
“I thought you said she humiliated you,” Bean remarked.
“She did. Trixie had everything under control until Twilight decided to interfere. If she’d just given Trixie a few more minutes, Trixie would have subdued the ursa major and given those two troublemaking idiots their due. Twilight only wishes that she had the same show-stopping ability that Trixie has, and she had to do something—anything—to upstage Trixie.”
“Why were you dealing with an ursa major to begin with?”
“Trixie’s show in Ponyville was so awe-inspiring that a couple of Trixie’s fans decided to test her abilities. Trixie thought she had explained how dangerous an ursa major was, but those two numbskulls didn’t get the message.”
“So, you’re a travelling magician, then?” Bean asked.
“The greatest and most powerful-est magician in all of Equestria!” Trixie crowed.
“And yet, you can’t undo this invisibility thing,” he smugly noted. “Doesn’t sound all that great and powerful to me.”
“Quiet, plebeian! Don’t you think Trixie has tried to undo this? This invisibility is no ordinary curse. It is a complex and completely evil hex, and the unicorn who cast it is just as evil as Nightmare Moon. She might even be Nightmare Moon, now that Trixie thinks about it.”
“Right, sure. I guess that means every newspaper in Equestria was wrong when they said that Nightmare Moon was defeated a little while back?”
“Yes. Trixie has never trusted the press. Or wheels, for that matter.”
“How long have you been like this?”
“Ever since that accursed Twilight—”
“I meant in actual, measurable time,” Bean cut her off. “Like in months, day, and hours, y’know?”
“A little over two weeks,” Trixie replied. “And Trixie has been forced to scrounge and scavenge for food ever since. It’s criminal what Trixie has been subjected to.”
“Did you come straight to Salt Lick from Ponyville?”
“No. Trixie went to Appleoosa first, and she was forced to flee from there to Fillydelphia when the local sheriff accused Trixie unfairly of theft.” There was a quiet but unmistakable arrogant sniff. “Of a muffin,” she added. “An untouched muffin, which was just sitting on the table.”
“That must have been interesting for the sheriff,” Bean grunted with a chuckle.
“Trixie came to Salt Lick two days ago,” she went on. “Trixie was trying to find a cure in the local library, but there was nothing there that helped. So, when we get to Vanhoover, you will help Trixie in her quest to become visible again.”
“Why should I help you? The only thing you’ve done is make me think I’ve lost my marbles.”
“Oh, you’re going to help Trixie. If you don’t, Trixie will keep following you, and Trixie will make your life miserable. You have no idea what Trixie is capable of.”
Bean paused for a moment. “You promise you’ll go away once you’re fixed?”
“And you apologize. But after that, yes. Trixie will have revenge to plan, and she will have no further need of you.”
Bean pondered the options for a moment, but it quickly dawned on him that he really didn’t have an option. The idea of having a snarky voice following him around and making snide comments throughout his life held little appeal, so he snorted and stuck a hoof in the air. “Fine. I’ll help. But not because I want to.”
An unseen hoof grabbed his, and shook. “Don’t worry. Trixie knows how to deal with neigh-sayers like yourself.”
