In Which Fluttershy Is Very Sweet, But I Still Get Waterboarded Donkey Style
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Displaced Into Equestria as a Secret Service Agent / Business Major
In Which Fluttershy Is Very Sweet, But I Still Get Waterboarded Donkey Style
I waved my hand in front of my face, and tipped my head back and forth to see if my view of the world around me kept pace. "This is a really good VR."
The yellow creature stared at me. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like she mumbled, "Are you an animal?"
I stared back. "Excuse me?"
"I just need to know whether you're an animal. Because..." she blushed. "That's kind of my job. Taking care of lost and hurt animals."
I laughed. "I'm a human being. That's the exact opposite of an animal."
"Oh," she whispered. "If you aren't an animal, I hope you don't mind if I don't want to come any closer to you. Because strange not-an-animal creatures I've never seen before? They can be really scary."
I shrugged. "Fine. Don't do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable." I added sarcastically, "Like telling your rabbit not to take a whiz on me, I guess?"
"Oh, I'm awful sorry about that. Sometimes Angel is just the naughtiest little bunny. I think nocreature showed him enough love when he was a little kit." She shook her head. "So sometimes he takes his pain out on others."
I sighed. "Great. I'm sure this is such a fun VR, with themes like that."
"What?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
The yellow creature bit her lower lip. "You keep using that word: Vee Ar."
"That's because this is a virtual reality sim. It has to be. Because My Little Donkey isn't real."
The yellow creature's eyes narrowed for a moment, like she was offended. "I don't know what a Vee Ar is, or what a virtual reality sim is. But I do know somepony who might know. Princess Twilight Sparkle."
"Really? Sounds like she might be interesting to talk to."
"I have to go home and take care of my animals first. But when that's done, I could take you to town. Either Twilight's in her castle, or somepony should at least know where she is."
"Sounds great. Thanks."
"But first," the creature said, "we have to go to my cottage."
I'd never expected a cottage could smell that terrible. So many different kinds of animals, and each kind makes its own special stink. Fluttershy (that was her name, she told me) worked hard trying to clean up after all of them, but no one could completely get rid of a smell like that, not matter how much she scrubbed.
I even helped a little myself, since my suit already had rabbit whiz on it anyway. Fluttershy told me we could get the suit dry cleaned in town, and maybe even get someone to make me a change or two of clothes.
"Really," I said. "A place so primitive and low tech that the houses have hay for roofs, but there's also a dry cleaners? That seems odd."
She gave me a funny look again. "Of course we have dry cleaning," Fluttershy said. "There's spells for it."
"Spells?"
"Magic spells."
I laughed. "There's no such thing as magic."
"What? How can you say that?"
"This VR is obviously based on My Little Donkeys, just like the robot I saw earlier inside the GPI booth. And in My Little Donkeys, there's no such thing as magic. That was the whole point of the episode where donkeys think Zanzibara is an evil enchantress who casts curses, but by the end of the story they find out she's just an innocent herb doctor. And what about the episode when Jenny Sparkle debunks Trixini Confidence's so-called magic powers, and proves it's all just tricks and fakery?"
Fluttershy stared at me like I'd just grown two heads and started singing a song about how we should all start licking toads. "That's very interesting, I'm sure."
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"I think we've gotten enough done, the animals can cope a couple hours without me. I'm taking you to town right now."
"What is it? Why won't you just tell me?"
"Let's get your suit cleaned."
Fluttershy led me through the streets of a town where, like I said, most of the houses were roofed with hay, and it seemed like no one had invented so much as a car. The closest thing to that I saw was when a little orange donkey zoomed past on a scooter.
We stopped in front of a shop that, like most of the storefronts, had a sign without words. It just depicted two dresses: the first obviously dirty, the second sparkling clean.
"Well," Fluttershy said softly, "we're here. I want you to understand, Fabric Pounder is really very nice, a real sweetie. She's just scared to show it, so she puts up a show of being all gruff and tough. But don't let her scare you."
I snickered. "How scary could a cartoon donkey be? Just looking at them, they're obviously designed to entertain small children. Don't worry, I'll try to control my terror."
Fluttershy nodded. "Good."
When we went inside, a husky donkey behind the front counter looked me up and down. "Another of your little projects, Fluttershy?"
"Please be nice to him. He's lost and confused and very far away from home. I know he says strange things, but I think he got bumped on the head."
The donkey snorted.
Fluttershy said, "He needs his suit cleaned. I feel responsible, because Angel Bunny made a mess on it."
The donkey snorted again. "I don't suppose you brought any bits to pay for this?"
Fluttershy sighed. "I'm sorry. You know it seems all my bits go for animal feed. And for Doctor Fauna."
The donkey looked at me like I was something disgusting she'd found on the bottom of her shoe. "Fine. I'll do it for free, once. One time only, for the creature who's new in town. But next time, I expect to be paid."
Fluttershy squeaked, "Thank you thank you thank you!" She mumbled to me, "I have so many things I have to do. Did you see the way back to my cottage?"
Fabric Pounder rolled her eyes. "Anypony in town knows the way to your cottage. If the creature gets lost, it can ask for directions."
"I suppose that's true," Fluttershy admitted. She asked me, "Will you be all right by yourself? Will you be able to find your way back?"
I shrugged. "I think so. If everyone in town knows you and how to get to your cottage, I'm sure I'll be fine."
"Good!" Fluttershy flapped her wings, and rose into the air to gently tap my nose with one hoof. "See you!" She ran out the door.
"Hmmph!" Fabric Pounder glared at me. "I hope you at least know how to take a bath. Or does your mommy do that for you too?"
"I can take a bath. I'd love to take a bath."
"Good, because there's no point in cleaning your suit, if the creature who wears it is a filthy stinking mess." She led me down a hallway to a bathroom. The bathtub was kind of small, sized for a cartoon donkey instead of a human, but I thought I could make do with the scrub brushes and washcloths hanging on hooks and racks. At least there was plenty of soap.
"Take off your clothes," Fabric Pounder ordered, "and give them to me."
I took off my suit jacket and shirt, and offered them to the donkey. "A little privacy, please?" I asked.
"For what?"
"To take off the rest."
"You can't take off your clothes in front of me?"
"That's right."
Something yanked my legs out from under me, and dangled me upside down. My fly came undone, and my trousers slid up off my body.
"Hey!" I shouted.
"I'm running a business here. Time is money, I can't wait all day for your little games. Taking advantage of Fluttershy, trying to make her pay for your laundering. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"It isn't laundering! This suit is dry clean only!"
"Even worse." My underpants joined my trousers, hovering in the air beside Fabric Pounder. Hovering?
Along with running a laundry service, Fabric Pounder was some kind of magician?
I watched my pants fold themselves in the air. "How are you doing that?"
"Unicorn magic, idiot. What did you expect?"
I noticed the donkey did have a single, straight horn on her head. But I scoffed, "There's no such thing as magic."
"I don't have time to teach you what even a foal knows." The bathtub started filling with water. "Or do I?"
Something floated me down into the bathtub, and stuck my head under the running faucet. Every twenty seconds, it pulled me out for a moment to breathe, and then stuck me under again. I was being donkey waterboarded. "What do you want to know?" I complained. "I've been perfectly honest with Fluttershy and with you! I've been honest, but you're playing nasty tricks on me with your fake magic!"
That remark got my face a longer time under the faucet.
When the magic trick finally pulled me out to gasp for breath, Pounder growled, "Fluttershy is a perfectly kind and innocent pony, far too innocent for her own good. She's even kind to villainous monsters. She takes in freaks like you, and what does she get for it? Nothing but trouble. I've tried to get Mayor Marigold to send a sheriff to separate her from that nasty, evil little rabbit--"
"Angel Bunny?" I asked.
"So you know the little Tartarus spawn's name. I suppose it makes sense, evil creatures would know each other."
"I never met Angel Bunny in my life, until I met Fluttershy!"
"Hmmph." Pounder glared at me. "Now can I trust you to finish cleaning yourself up, or do I have to get out my roughest, scratchiest washboard to scrub you like you're a dirty rug?"
"I can wash myself, I swear! Just put me down!"
The magic trick lowered me into the tub, where I demonstrated I knew how to lather myself with soap, and how to use a bucket to wash the soap off. "See? When rabbits aren't attacking me, I can keep clean just fine."
"Good." Pounder turned on her heel and left, not even bothering to close the door behind her.
Or maybe she left the door open intentionally, because she trusted me that little? I suspected that was it.
Anyway, I took the opportunity to get a good bath, and wash the stink of Fluttershy's animals off me.
Displaced Into Equestria as a Secret Service Agent / Business Major
I was perfectly prepared to apply for the job. My dress shirt was ironed, my slacks wrinkle free. Even my suit jacket was properly buttoned, and my tie fastened with exactly one tie tack, to stay securely in place.
Only one final detail to check. I reached into my jacket pocket, but found only my phone, business cards, and a bit of lint.
What if I needed to write something down?
I looked back and forth frantically. Where, at a convention full of crazed fans wielding laser swords, trading foil embossed collector cards, and hanging halfway out of skimpy "Slave Leia"' costumes, could I get something as ordinary as a pen?
I spotted a sign: "Dealers In Ordinary Things." This was my chance!
I rushed through the crowd, only narrowly dodging a very convincing looking catgirl, who hissed and bared her claws as I hip checked her. Less than a minute later, I slammed both my hands down on the dealer's table, and looked him in the eye.
"I need a pen, stat!" I announced. "My future may depend on it!"
The weasel faced man (complete with fangs and whiskers!) nodded. "What kind of pen? A space pen, that can write even when held upside down? A pen filled with the acidic blood of Rigelian worms as ink, so every line you write both tints and engraves? Or perhaps something more exotic. To perfectly complete a costume as a Secret Service agent, you might like a pen with ink that doubles as colorant and as truth serum."
I thought about my shrinking bank balance, bane of the unemployed recent college graduate. "What's cheapest?"
The man grinned, showing off mismatched teeth which I thought must include some of his real ones. "For you?" He leered. "One penny."
I dug through my trouser pocket, finding two quarters, a stick of gum, and a used contraceptive wrapper left over from a room party last night. I slapped down one quarter, with a sad, dull tapping sound. "Keep the change."
The man rummaged beneath his table, finally handing me a black pen.
"Thank you!" I ran away.
Minutes later, I reached the center of my hopes and dreams. The most important publisher of our time. The center of our literary economy.
General Publishing Inc.
Everyone has heard of GPI, of course. If you haven't, you must have been living under a rock for the last ten years, or at least you must be one of those people who don't know how to use the internet to do anything other than "reply to all" on spam.
When it seemed that book publishing was dying because no one wanted to read anymore, GPI's founder, a visionary genius, stepped up to save literature. If no one wants to read real books anymore, because people are too busy forwarding cat pictures and memes of green faced people making fart jokes? GPI's founder said, don't try to hide from the truth. Give people what they want, but make it quality literature.
Six months after he created the GPI website, one of his writers' ebooks, "Chicken Dumplings to Soothe Anon's Crabbed, Wretched Soul," reached number one on the New York Times best sellers list. Less than two years later, GPI had single handedly saved American literacy, with inroads into the rest of the world.
Everyone was reading books. Everyone was reading creative stories and fun poetry that had so much to say about the human condition.
Sure, maybe the human condition had turned out to very often include the human imagining that he's a green faced, smart alecky everyman who wants to cuddle alien horse creatures and maybe have sex with them. But isn't it better that literature truly face what humanity is, instead of trying to hide the truth?
At least that's better than yet another story about a middle aged car dealer thinking about how he wants to cheat on his human wife with his human secretary. "Run, Hamster Run" my ass!
You would think an important business like GPI would have an enormous, fancy booth, probably taking up a big part of the convention's main exhibition hall. And you'd be correct.
An enormous screen showed a green face on a green background, uttering portentous pronouncements.
"The measure of literature is not how many critics it pleases, but how many readers don't throw it down in disgust."
"A stitch up in time saves two reprintings."
"Reality is overrated."
People stared slack jawed at the fifty foot face, taking in the oracle's wisdom. I, however, had a plan.
I didn't stand where I could get the best view of the screen, Instead, I tried to slip between the screen's edge and the room's wall, so I could sneak "behind the scenes."
I hoped to find one of GPI's movers and shakers. Perhaps, if I was very, very lucky, the Founder himself.
I pressed my body against the room's wall, reached into the space behind the screen, and tried to wriggle my way through.
It wasn't easy. But I was determined! I was prepared! I had everything I needed!
When I was only about halfway through, I was surprised to feel jaws clamp around the wrist of my arm that was behind the screen.
As the jaws yanked and pulled on me, I whimpered softly, feeling my jacket snag on the screen's edge, hearing fabric tear.
"My interview suit," I softly moaned.
When I was entirely behind the screen, though, I could finally see my captor. I stared. Wouldn't you stare, if you saw a real life My Little Donkeys knockoff character?
"I can't believe it," I gasped.
The creature released its hold on my wrist. "You can't believe what?" he asked.
"I can't believe GPI somehow got a license to produce a My Little Donkeys themed robot. You're so lifelike! If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a real alien from another universe."
The creature smiled. "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, I believe you have an urgent appointment."
"I do?" I said unbelievingly. Then I decided to bluff. "Oh, of course I do. Just refresh my memory about who my appointment is with."
The creature shook its head. "With the Founder Himself, of course."
"Yes!" I agreed. "With the Founder, yes. I knew that."
"Follow me." The creature led me through a maze of temporary partitions and cubicles, to the largest cubicle of all.
As I entered the cubicle, I tripped over a power cord, falling to my knees. "I can't believe it's you," I gasped. "The single handed savior of modern day literature. The hero who breathed life into the dreams of writers everywhere. The legend who made it possible for tens of thousands of creative wordsmiths to make a living out of their basements."
He smiled at me. "No need to kneel and grovel at my feet. Please, stand."
"Of course!" I stood.
"I've seen your PubBlog," the Founder said, "where you've written about your ambition to work for GPI. Where you analyze GPI's business, and lay out plans for how GPI could grow and become even more successful."
I blushed. "I feel honored, sir."
"The honor is mine, to have such a talented business major trying to help GPI. Are you here to ask for a job?"
"Yes, sir. If you'll have me."
The Founder held out a sheaf of papers. "If you'll just sign here, your salary starts today, But you won't have to report to work until after the con."
"That sounds just perfect, sir!" I accepted the papers. I took the cap off my new pen, and started to write the first letter of my name.
Instantly, I was no longer at the convention.
I was sitting in a grassy field, somewhere I'd never been before.
A little white bunny hopped up to me. He sniffed my trousers, lifted one of his legs, and urinated.
Farther away, a butter yellow creature, not unlike one of the stars of My Little Donkeys, shouted: "Angel Bunny! You stop that right now!"
The bunny blew a Bronx cheer, and hopped away.
Author's Note
Serious question: Is it bad to have a character from the human world who isn't named Anon?
Someone told me that Anon makes every story higher quality by making the story more relatable for most people on the internet.
