It’s a crisp fall day and you’re driving through the countryside on a scenic back road. Time seems to slow down in the country, or maybe you’re just going slower than normal to soak up the sights. Picturesque barns, horses galloping in pastures, a pink unicorn grazing by the side of the road…
You check the rearview mirror to verify that you really had seen that last one. Confirming it with a quick glance, you turn around and head back the way you’d just come. You’ve seen ponies around, and they’re not exactly uncommon, but this strikes you as unusual. You stop and get out of the car, and take note of the signboard you’d missed in passing.
Useless unicorn: Free to good home
You walk up to her. “Uh, hi.”
“Hi,” she responds, not looking up. Instead she nibbles on some clover.
What do you even say to a unicorn? “Interesting sign.”
She shrugs.
“Can I ask why you’re giving yourself away? This is normally frowned on.”
“Because I’ve got nowhere left to go. I’ve seen it in the eyes of so many humans since I arrived on Earth. You all want a pet pony. So here’s your chance to have your very own pet unicorn. Do you have kids? They’ll love me! Are you a dog person or a cat person?” She continues, not giving you a chance to respond, “It doesn’t matter! If you throw a ball, I’ll fetch it! If you sit in your armchair, I’ll hop on your lap and purr. With a unicorn, you get the best of both worlds!”
She’s a horrible salespony.
“Please, kind human!”
“Kind human?” you ask, repeating her words.
“Kind pony? Um, what term of endearment do humans prefer?”
“We usually use ‘sir’, ‘miss’, or ‘ma’am’ when addressing one another.” You facepalm. “Have you no dignity?”
“None left, kind sir, miss, or ma’am! That was auctioned off with the rest of my assets to pay my debts when my bakery went out of business. I’m also told they’ll garnish any potential future wages until I pay everything back.”
“You bake?” you ask, ignoring the fact that she just addressed you as ‘sir, miss, or ma’am’.
“Of course! I make great cherry pies, cherry cobblers, cherry cheesecakes, chimicherries, cherrychangas…”
“Anything without cherries in it?”
“…Not so much.” She turns to present her cutie mark, a pie topped with a cherry. “My talent really only works if cherries are one of the ingredients. I’m kind of a one-hit wonder.”
“I’m starting to understand why your bakery failed.”
“Hey, it’s not like anything I bake without cherries is awful or anything, it’s just it never turns out as good if it doesn’t have cherries in it.”
“What else can you do?”
“Lots of things!” Her horn lights up and she levitates a few balls from her saddlebags, which she proceeds to juggle. “I’ve been entertaining at kids’ birthday parties. I get all the birthday cake and ice cream I can eat.” She sighs. “I’m willing to work for you. I can do chores around the house to earn my keep.”
“Well then you’re not useless.”
She grabs a marker from her bag and scribbles ‘mostly’ in front of ‘useless’ on her sign. “Happy?”
You groan. Cherry Pie is obviously full of self-doubt and self-loathing, and she’s likely depressed. You can’t just leave her here, can you?
[CHOICE]Do you let Cherry Pie come home with you?
You can’t just leave her standing by the side of the road. Take her home. (hero)
You can’t just leave her standing by the side of the road. But you make it clear to Cherry Pie that she’s under no obligations to either you or your family, and that she’s free to leave any time she wants. (chaos)
You’ve got enough mouths to feed already, you don’t need a freeloading unicorn too. (villain)
“Fine, I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“But I have a few stipulations.”
“Oh?”
“You can stay as long as you need to, until you get back on your feet. Or hooves, as the case may be. You’re free to leave at any time, and you’re under no obligations at all to myself or my family. Also, please don’t act like a pet. It’s beneath you.”
“Does this mean no ear scritches?” She pouts.
“I’m not a monster. Of course you can have ear scritches. Once you’ve got your life back on track you can pay rent, or move out if you prefer.”
“Oh, good. My sign does say ‘good’ home. You’re not the first person to stop today. But you are the first to take my feelings into account. I… I think your home might just be the one I’m looking for.” She gets in your car and you close the door behind her.
You don't have the heart to tell her you can't stand cherries.
“Come on, get in,” you say as you open the passenger door of your car. Hooves and door handles don’t mix. “I’ll take you home.”
She hops in, leaving her sign abandoned in the field.
You chitchat as you drive, asking questions to get to know your guest better. She’s originally from Canterlot, which is Equestria’s capital and most famous city.
She has no idea where you live, which is good, because you’re going in the opposite direction. The miles click by as you merge onto the highway. Fortunately, most ponies haven’t moved all that far from the portal. As you continue driving, billboards for Equestria and the portal start popping up. Your passenger either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care – she’s too busy telling you about her parents, her younger sibling, and her Aunt Cherry Jubilee, the latter of whom has an orchard in Dodge Junction.
You pull off the interstate at exit sixteen, following the signs towards the Equestrian portal.
“Where are we going?”
“I told you, I’m taking you home.”
“You live in Equestria?”
“Not my home, silly.” You park the car and get out. “You’ve got a family that you obviously miss very much. I bet they miss you too.”
Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she hugs you. “Thank you.”
You reach down and scratch her behind the ears. “You’re welcome.”
