Attention Must Be Paid to Such a Pony
The town of Saltlick was…
Well, even calling it a town was being generous enough to qualify for bearing the Element. It was little more than two rows of buildings with a line of empty space between them that acted as a street more by default than intent. The only real features were the nearby salt flats and whatever interesting hallucinations heatstroke might provide. Even the ever-growing branches of Equestria’s railroads had managed to miss the place.
As far as Trixie was concerned, it was perfect.
After she unhitched herself from her caravan—and triple-checked the security wards, just to be sure—she strode into town, at least tripling the local aesthetic splendor in the process. Sun-wrinkled ponies watched her from porches and stoops to see if she did anything that merited paying more attention and/or forming an angry mob. Trixie, having performed many times in the Mild West, kept herself as low-key as possible while still in her costume. (The cape made for a functional serape, and the hat worked as well as anything with a broad brim would as the sun approached high noon.) Spectacle was reserved for the show; any undue excitement might be a bit much for this crowd. And for Trixie, who had a nasty allergy to torches and pitchforks.
Still, nopony looked to be weaponizing any farm equipment preemptively. Always a positive sign.
Once at the saloon—for no matter how minuscule the alleged "town," there was always a saloon—Trixie walked through the obligatory swinging doors. The equally obligatory piano player came to his obligatory stop as the stranger walked in, but Trixie didn’t fit the usual profile of a troublemaking newcomer. Thus, the ragtime resumed a few moments later. Ponies went back to cheating at cards, grumbling about the dirt harvest, and whatever else perpetuated Mild West stereotypes.
(Trixie couldn’t prove it was all a bit, but her performer’s instincts insisted it had to be.)
Everything went according to the script until Trixie realized she actually recognized a pony at the bar. But she hadn’t made it this far in the entertainment business without learning how to improvise. She planned out the segue from one routine to another in a matter of moments, but it would take time to get to that point.
Step one was as she'd originally planned. She stepped up to the bar, sat at one of the low stools in front of it, and said, “Mount Aris Iced Tea.”
That got a quirk of an eyebrow as the painfully predictable bartender—mutton chops, mustache, apron over a striped shirt, the works—wiped off a shot glass. He nodded towards the rows of bottles behind him. “Lady, I ain’t got half of what I’d need for that, least of all the cola. What ya see’s what ya get.”
All part of the performance. A roll of the eyes, a sigh, and then Trixie's next line: “Alright, give me a shot of whatever’s local.” Thus she established herself as refined but not aloof, with enough interest in the town to try what everypony would see as the best on offer.
As expected, the bartender looked skeptical. “You sure? Fancy unicorn like you?” As if Trixie hadn’t stomached some of the roughest rotgut ponies had ever eked out of barely fermentable produce.
“She can handle it,” growled out the stallion in the actual serape a few stools down, where he hunched over his own drink. He didn't look up from the glass as he added, “Put it on my tab.”
“You ain’t got no—”
Trixie wasn’t about to let a little thing like reality step on her cue. She narrowed her eyes at the stallion. “Sandwich.”
He straightened up and raised his hat. His steely gaze was only slightly diminished by the rubber chicken sitting next to him. “Lulamoon.”
“Very chivalrous of you." Trixie heard a glass hit the counter, took it in her magic without turning away from Cheese, and slung it back in a single smooth motion. Liquid fire blazed across her palate, with a slight hint of prickly pear. Trixie hid any reaction in the angry lashing of her tail. "To what does Trixie owe the dubious pleasure?”
“Just passing through,” said Cheese, playing his part perfectly.
“Uh huh. The last time you were ‘just passing through,’ Trixie had to deal with an audience demanding elephant rides and a lake of fruit punch." The interested murmurs that had been going through the saloon since Trixie's shot grew to more eager mutterings. Trixie held back her smile. "What do you have cooked up this time?”
“Nothing.”
Trixie blinked. That wasn't in the script. “No grand hullabaloo they’ll be talking about for moons?”
Cheese shook his head. “Haven’t planned a party in moons. I’m sure you’re entertainment enough for this town.”
Even as he said that, Trixie could hear the mood deflate. Even as she lamented the lost anticipation, other, more recently acquired habits piped up. “Why don’t we take this outside?”
The bartender cleared his throat. “Anypony gonna pay for the drinks first?”
Trixie rolled her eyes and tossed a few bits at him from one of her cape’s hidden pockets. “Keep the change.” She turned with a flourish of that cape that would make a matador weep and stalked out of the bar. “Come on, Sandwich. Let’s talk shop.”
The mutters picked up again. Speculation abounded, and not all of it was about their acts. Boneless 2 alone likely raised as many questions as the ponies put together. Trixie pretended not to hear some of the more crass suggestions, though she did note some faces for later on-stage humiliation. Yes, she'd mostly phased out that part of the act, but "mostly" was a very useful word in that regard.
Onlookers' speculation continued until they reached the caravan. Once inside, Trixie hung her hat and cape on the hooks by the door, took a deep breath, and let the mask slip. It was easier these days, but that didn't mean it was actually easy. At least it wasn't the first time she'd done so with the stallion. “Okay, Cheese, cards on the table. What are you planning? I know neither of us wants to step on the other’s hooves.”
He tossed his own hat on a hat rack that Trixie knew she didn't own, then shrugged. “I mean it," he said in his usual tone. "Cheesy Sense hasn’t pinged this town. I’ve got nothing planned.”
Trixie looked him over for any sign of deception, not that she'd ever been able to read him. Party Pony was a foreign body language in those rare times that one wasn't wearing their heart on their sleeve. “You’re serious.”
That got a glare. “Party planning’s serious business, Trixie.”
She knew better than to press that point. “Then why are you out here in some middle-of-nowhere shantytown with more sun than Celestia’s flanks?”
“Well..." Cheese looked away, ears drooping. "It’s... kind of a farewell tour.”
Trixie blinked. It took a few false starts before she could get out, “A what?”
He just nodded. “I wanted one last trip around Equestria before I settled down.”
“You’re retiring?" Trixie gaped at the idea until falling to her haunches broke her out of her shock. "You?”
Cheese shrugged and offered a little grin. “I think I had a good run.”
“A good run?" Trixie's lip twitched. She really didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. She settled on yelling. "A good run!? Cheese, I’m mare enough to admit that after Dad started performing in Las Pegasus full time, you’ve been the name in traveling entertainers. What could possibly—“ A chill ran down Trixie’s spine as a horrible thought crossed her mind.
A strange, misshapen, incredibly hairy minotauroid had found fame across Equestria for his manic energy and incredible impersonation skills. He'd entertained millions, including Princess Celestia herself. But then he'd vanished one night, leaving only an apology and confession of the deep depression lurking just under the surface. Nopony had seen him in the years since. Even magical attempts to contact or locate him had failed. There had been only one logical conclusion.
Trixie stared into Cheese's eyes. “Cheese. Tell it to me straight. This isn’t an Orc from Mork situation is it?”
He drew back like she'd slapped him. “What? No!”
“Okay, good." Trixie let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. Then she jabbed Cheese in the ribs. "I’d kill you if you tried something like that.”
“Uh—“
“I know what I said." She wilted. "Still, it wouldn’t be the first time somecreature’s fallen apart behind a smile for the crowd.”
Cheese shook his head. “It’s nothing like that, Trixie.”
“It better not be. I still owe you for showing me up in Tallahorsie." Trixie's developing conscience poked her, and she added, "And for helping me out when the caravan lost a wheel outside of Seaddle. So why are you retiring? You’re at the top of your game!”
“Did you hear about the Amusement Factory?”
Trixie nodded. “If anypony but you had tried that, I’d have called them crazy. You’re still crazy, just for different reasons. It worked?”
“Kind of." Cheese looked up and sighed. "Yeah, I was able to spread more joy than I ever could just going from town to town as the Sense took me, but it was all…" He waved a forehoof as he looked for a word. "Distant. Abstract. I was pouring my soul into it and wasn’t getting anything back.”
“Wow. An entertainer without an audience found work draining. I’m shocked." Trixie pointed at an expression that would do Maud proud. "This is Trixie’s shocked face. Did you know you also have to breathe?”
“Sure, it’s obvious in hindsight, but not when you’re in the middle of a creative rut." Cheese shook his head. "I still don’t know where that turtleneck even came from.”
“Turtleneck?”
“Long story. But the mare who helped me—“
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Of course there’s a mare.”
“Hey!” For only the third time in her life, and the first without insulting dairy products, Trixie got to see Cheese Sandwich get mad.
“I didn't mean it like that."
Cheese scowled. Boneless 2 added an oddly intimidating squeak. "Really."
Trixie couldn't hold back the grin. "Not entirely." When Cheese's expression didn't budge, she added, "Look, the only reason anypony our age gets off the circuit is because their heart’s not in it. Usually because they’ve found something, somepony, who matters more than the audience. That’s how it was with Mom and Dad for a while.”
After a few moments, Cheese nodded. “Same with me. I’m doing one last tour of my greatest hits before heading to Ponyville to propose. Boneless 2 is holding onto the hoofband for me.”
And just like that, any vague idea Trixie had of where the conversation was headed flew out the window. “Wait, what?”
“Hey, I trust that chicken with my life!”
“Not that. Ponyville? Seriously?”
“It’s not as rinky-dink as it sounds." Cheese pointed into the distance. "You can see Canterlot on a clear day.”
“I know you can see Canterlot on a…" Trixie facehoofed and took a deep breath. "Are you being serious right now?”
That got a shrug and the same answer he always gave to that question. “I’m being Cheese.”
Trixie shook her head. “You seriously never heard about the Ursa Minor fiasco?”
“Well, if it was only a minor—“
“The fiasco. With the Ursa Minor. In Ponyville." Trixie bowed her head, ears down. "To say nothing of what happened with the Alicorn Amulet after that.”
“I don't exactly get a lot of news while on the road," said Cheese.
Trixie stood, walked to one side of the caravan, and headbutted it. Then she stood there for a few moments and thought about her life decisions in general.
Eventually, Cheese said, “Uh, Trixie?”
She pulled back. Her horn hadn't gouged out any wood, but it did spring back into shape. “Ow. Didn’t think that through.”
“So… what did happen?”
Trixie started pacing. It was easier to tell the story while her body was doing something other than wallowing in regret. “Some colts did something stupid because they couldn’t tell fiction from reality. Then I did something worse. It’s… mostly behind me at this point. But, well, I’m out here for pretty much the same reason as you.”
Cheese's brow furrowed as he thought about that. “You... built a factory?”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “No, but I did find a mare in Ponyville who gave me a chance to make a living without hauling all my worldly possessions across Equestria. I have a position at the School of Friendship starting in the fall. Well, I started near the end of last term, but this will make it official." She snorted at one part that still amazed her. "Counselor, if you can believe it.”
“Congratulations!" Cheese reared up, confetti flying everywhere. Trixie hoped it was from his own stash and not hers this time. "You’ve done a good job with me whenever we cross paths.”
“Sure, because I understand you. There wasn’t much left there that I could ruin. But these kids…" Trixie shook her head. "They have their whole futures ahead of them, and I’m supposed to steer them right? Assuming I can even stand being in the same place for that long. You know me, Cheese. I can barely be responsible for myself, much less actual foals. And all the other creatures Princess Sparkle’s brought to town.”
“Sounds like you really care about them,” he said with a smile.
“How can I not? They’ll have to come to me with their problems.”
The smile just widened.
Trixie let out a chuckle despite herself. “Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. And say what you will about Sparkle, she has books on everything." She tilted her head towards the small shelf over her hammock, currently filled with much thicker, drier works than her usual preferences. "I’ve had some very educational bedtime reading these last few weeks."
Cheese nodded encouragingly. "Sounds like you have the situation well in hoof."
"Darn reasonable earth ponies." Trixie glared at him, even if she couldn't tug the smile off her lips. "How am I supposed to have a proper freakout with you pointing out how I don’t need to?”
He stuck out his tongue. “Careful who you call reasonable.”
She returned the biting retort. “It’s relative.”
After a few moments of subdued laughter, Cheese said, “You know, I was nervous about wanderlust too.”
Trixie's eyebrows rose. “You were? What helped?”
“You, just now.”
That got a blink. “Huh?”
“Aside from having a familiar face from the road in the area, it sounds like everypony, everyone, will be coming to us.” Cheese waved a forehoof as if to encompass the whole world. "I heard something about yaks?"
“Yaks, changelings, dragons..." Trixie had to nod. "That’s actually a decent point.”
“And if you ever do get itchy hooves, you’re what, ten minutes from the biggest rail hub in Equestria?" Cheese beamed. "You could go just about anywhere in the country and be back the next day.”
Trixie scoffed. “Yeah, sure, if I can splurge on the price of a ticket.”
Cheese raised an eyebrow. “How much are they paying you?”
This many revelations in quick succession couldn't be good for a pony. “Oh. Right. I’m going to get a salary.”
After a few moments of silent thought, Cheese cleared his throat. “Trixie?”
She shook her head. “Going to need some time to adjust to that idea. Thanks, Cheese.”
Cheese tipped his hat, which she'd never actually seen him retrieve. “Happy to help. And hey, we’ll going to see a lot more of each other in the near future." He winked. "Might as well start fostering a bit more goodwill.”
“Ha. Additionally, ha." Trixie grabbed her own costume off the hooks. She'd need to set up the pyrotechnics soon anyway. "So, who is this wonder mare, anyway? I can only imagine who'd manage to tie you down.”
“Well, you have been to Ponyville yourself. Have you ever heard of a mare named Pinkie Pie?”
“That foal of a—”
Author's Note
Mutton chops are named after the famous facial hair of Gabriel Mutton, one of the few notable statesgriffons in Equestria's history. If you're wondering how something with the head of an eagle can grow facial hair, start with Gustave le Grande.
All due respect is intended to Robin Williams.
And yeah, these two actually have a lot in common, what with being traveling entertainers whose lives changed when they met one of the Mane Six. I'm surprised they've had such little interaction. Goodness knows they could've crossed paths many a time before now.
