Put A Pegasus In Your Tank
Way Better Than Putting A Tiger In There
Pennsylvania was way too fond of one-way streets.
The two-way street I was on split at a Y-shaped intersection, and I found myself continuing travel towards a dying steel town. The steelyards had closed decades ago, but the town persevered with fewer people and a status as a bedroom community. Most of the people living here made their living in other cities in the area.
It was rare that I traveled through towns, instead preferring the backroads where traffic and pedestrians were less of an issue. But sometimes it was necessary; whether that be because my destination lay in town, or I was on one of the primary roads connecting the various cities and towns throughout the region and it was faster to stay on my route than try to go around the population center.
It had been a while since I’d last traveled through there, and the fact that the Lukoil station had changed back to Mobil caught my attention. It was rather hard to miss, considering there was a pony flying around with a big Mobil sign. She swooped down over the street and pointed toward the gas station.
I looked at my gas gauge – half full. I didn’t need to stop, but it was always best to keep the tank above the halfway mark. My friends were waiting for me, but they could wait a little longer. Completely rationally, I decided to stop.
Of course I was in the wrong lane. Another reminder of how much I despised one-way streets, but not nearly as bad as the double-parking people did to block one of those lanes of travel, but it was up there. Nothing like having to weave back and forth between the lanes to avoid parked cars. I turned left down the next block, conveniently a two-way street, then returned to the Y-intersection and stopped for the traffic light. When it turned green, I channeled my inner NASCAR driver and turned left again, this time getting into the right lane and almost immediately turning into the gas station.
To date, the only pony-run business I’d seen was the car wash in the next county.
That status wasn’t in jeopardy. The gas station had not changed hands, or if it had, they’d yet to change the signing accordingly. From what I could see, the employees inside the station were all humans.
I pulled my Mustang up to the pumps and opened the gas flap. I waved my credit card at the machine and it registered the tap. The purpose of the contactless payment was entirely defeated by the fact I still had to touch the gas pump, which was right up there with door handles for most germ-filled surfaces. If only I lived in New Jersey, where attendants still pumped the gas for customers.
I watched the little pony’s antics as I started pumping fuel into my car. Unlike the bright red Pegasus logo that the gas station chain was known for, the petite mare’s coat was a shade that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be pink or purple. Her mane and tail were golden, highlighted with bright pink. She darted and dove through the sky, staying primarily above the gas station, but she sometimes zipped over the street, pointing cars to the gas station.
I wondered how long she’d be allowed to do that, or if it wouldn’t stop until she caused a car accident. Her actions caused a bright yellow Volkswagen New Beetle to pull into the station at the last minute, earning the driver a one-finger salute from the driver of a silver Subaru.
The Volkswagen pulled up to the pump next to me, and the driver went through the motions of putting the pump into the car, then joined me in gawking at the pony. As we continued watching, it became apparent that the mare was biased towards colorful cars. She ignored the beige, black, white, and silver cars, but if a vehicle was a pastel or bright shade she made it a point to fly closer to get the driver’s attention.
At some point the pump on my side had shut off. I cringed when I looked at the price of just over seven gallons of gas. I’d told myself when buying a gas-guzzling muscle car that I’d never complain about the gas prices. I made the choice to buy it instead of something economical. Still, that didn’t make it any easier to stomach watching more than an hour’s worth of my wages fill just half the tank.
I replaced the pump and ran into the convenience store to grab a soda for the road. When I came out of the store a few minutes later, I found the mare curled up on the hood of my Mustang. I could then clearly see her cutie mark was that of a hopping rabbit and some flowers.
“Hi,” was all my stunned brain could think to utter.
“Hi!” She giggled. “I like your car. It’s a really pretty shade of blue.”
To be fair, that was the most frequent compliment my Mustang received. It was a great color, and I’d picked it when ordering the car specifically because of that. It wasn’t the clichéd bright red. Besides, blue had always been my favorite color.
“Also, the engine’s still warm. I’m Lolligiggle, by the way.” She rolled onto her back, as if inviting a tummy rub.
Confirmed: little ponies are part cat.
I introduced myself. “Any reason you’re not in the sky?”
“I’m on break. The law says I have to take two fifteen minute breaks and a half hour lunch at some point during my shift. So I’m picking now. You’re not going to leave, are you?” She looked up at me with pleading eyes.
I made eye contact, despite knowing better than to do that with a pony that wanted something from me. She could’ve asked me to hand over all the money in my wallet and I would’ve done it. The mental image of a pony mugger politely asking people for their money made me giggle. A pony could probably make a good living doing that.
Lolligiggle giggled along with me, without me even explaining why I was laughing. I reached a hand towards her stomach and she nodded, so I gave her the tummy rub she was obviously expecting.
“What do you do here?”
“Advertising mascot.” She pointed a hoof to the logo on the gas pump. “They really wanted a red pegasus, but red’s not a common coat color among ponies. I’m close enough.” She sat up, then rolled off the hood of my car, landing perfectly on all four hooves. She rushed over to the pump, matching the depicted pose of Pegasus as perfectly as she could.
I scratched her behind the ear and she leaned into my hand. Petting ponies was relaxing for both parties. All too soon her phone went off.
“Alarm, alarm, alarm. Alarm, alarm, alarm. Alarm, alarm, alarm.” I vaguely recognized that as a cartoon clip. Something Disney, maybe Bonkers.
“Whoops. Break’s over.” She grabbed her phone and shut off the alarm, then picked up a banner and I tied it to her leg for her. She nuzzled me. “Come back soon!” Then she took off, once more stirring up business for the gas station.
“I will.” I smiled as I got back into my car.
Author's Note
Story notes: https://www.fimfiction.net/blog/973348/story-notes-put-a-pegasus-in-your-tank
