Unwilling Reincarnation

I wake up to the sun blasting through my window like it’s got a personal vendetta against me, and is it me, or is the sun brighter here? I groan, blinking against the bright light and rubbing my face with a hoof.

I sit up, groggy, half-expecting that everything that happened yesterday was just some bizarre dream. But nope. As soon as I sit up and look around, I’m still in the same house. My house. In Ponyville. The same wooden floors, the same furniture. The same sheriff badge sitting on the bedside table.

I pick it up and squint at it.

“Right... I’m the sheriff,” I mutter to myself, tossing it back down on the table. “Which means… That wasn’t a fever dream.”

I stretch out, feeling my back pop in a way that makes me wonder if ponies need chiropractors. Then I hop off the bed, landing awkwardly on my hooves. I was making progress with the whole walking thing, it was like crawling, but instead of being optional, it was forever.

I yawn and drag myself to the kitchen. It’s all open space and minimal furniture, so it’s not hard to find. I haven’t eaten anything since Pinkie’s party, and if I’m going to survive another day in this acid trip of a town, I need coffee. Desperately.

Problem is, I don’t exactly know how to make coffee now. I mean, I used to have hands. Hands were great. Hands were awesome, hands made coffee easy. Now? I have hooves. Hooves are... not hands, hooves are not great. But hey, no big deal, right? How hard can it be to make coffee without fingers?

I open a cabinet with a hoof, fumbling a little before finding what looks like a coffee pot. Thank God—or whatever passes for a god in this world—they have coffee here. I poke around a bit more, eventually finding some coffee grounds in a little tin container. So far, so good. Coffee acquired. Now for the tricky part: making it.

I can do this.

I stare at the coffee pot for a long moment, realizing this is going to be a lot harder than I thought. I manage to get the lid off with my teeth—because when in need, use what you have and that’s a thing I have to do now—then fumble around with the coffee grounds. After about five minutes of struggling, spilling grounds everywhere, and muttering curses under my breath, I somehow manage to get the coffee grounds into the pot.

“Okay, okay, we’re doing this,” I mutter, grabbing the pot by the handle and trying not to spill it everywhere. “I’m practically a barista now.”

I find the faucet and try to turn it on with my hoof. It’s like trying to open a jar with mittens on. I can hear the universe laughing at me as I fumble around, twisting my hoof awkwardly to get the water running.

Finally, water starts flowing, and I fill up the coffee pot. I’m about to congratulate myself when I realize... I have no idea how their coffee makers work here.

There’s no machine, no buttons to press. Just an old-school stovetop thing that looks like it’s straight out of my grandma’s kitchen. Great.

I grumble to myself, turning on the stove with way too much effort, balancing the coffee pot on the burner like I’m defusing a bomb. Once it’s all set, I step back, sighing. Now all I have to do is wait for it to brew. And hope I don’t set the house on fire.

While the coffee’s brewing, I lean against the counter, staring out the window at the pastel-colored chaos that is my world now. To be honest, I’m half expecting something ridiculous to happen at any moment—like that pink demon, Pinkie Pie popping out of my cabinets with confetti or a musical number starting up outside.

But no. It’s quiet. Peaceful, even.

I have a house. I have coffee—well, I will soon. And I have a job. I’m the sheriff. All things considered, this isn’t the worst setup in the world. Maybe... maybe I can work with this. You know, make the best out of it. It could be worse, right?

I mean, discount Gandalf could’ve sent me to Care Bear universe.

As I mused about other possible hells. The coffee starts to bubble on the stove, and I let out a satisfied sigh. “Take that universe! Finally, something goes right.”

I grab a mug from the cabinet—still using my teeth because hooves are a hit and miss for me—and pour myself a cup. I take a sip, and...

Holy hell, that’s good coffee.

I blink in surprise, taking another sip. “Okay, I don’t know if this is pony magic or what, but this might be the best coffee I’ve ever had.”

I lean against the counter, holding the mug between my hooves, and let the sweet caffeine slowly seep into my system. It’s almost enough to make me forget about how weird everything is. Almost. Maybe a second cup would do the trick?

Just as I’m starting to relax, I hear a noise behind me. A shuffling sound. I freeze, my brain immediately jumping to the worst possible conclusion: Oh God, is it Pinkie Pie? Did she actually find a way to hide in my house? Is she going to kidnap me again?

Not this time!

I will fight back!

I whip around, ready to punch the pink demon, only to find... Scootaloo. She’s standing in the doorway, grinning at me like she’s been here the whole time.

“Hey, Sheriff!” she chirps.

I nearly drop my holy elixir. “Do you ever knock?”

She shrugs, trotting into the kitchen like she owns the place. “Nah. Your door was open, so I figured I’d come in.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. “You can’t just walk into someone’s house, kid. And besides, don’t you have like… school or something to do right now?”

She gives me a look like I just said the dumbest thing in the world. “School starts in two hours, so I came by to check on ya.”

I sigh, rubbing my temple with a hoof. “Awesome.”

Scootaloo trots over to the counter, eyeing the coffee pot. “What’s that?”

“Coffee,” I mutter, taking another sip. “You know, the thing that keeps adults from murdering people before noon?”

Scootaloo scrunches up her nose. “Gross. Why would you drink that?”

I shake my head. “Because life is exhausting, God hates me, and sometimes you need a little help surviving it.”

She shrugs, clearly uninterested in my coffee-drinking habits, and starts bouncing around the kitchen. “So, what’s on the agenda today, Sheriff?”

I sigh, finishing off my coffee. “Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve been a sheriff for less than 24 hours, so I don’t know… walk around town and wait for something to happen?”

Scootaloo grins. “You could always fight some more monsters! Or maybe you could chase down some bad guys!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are there even bad guys in this town?”

She blinks. “Uh... I dunno. But it’d be cool if there were, right?”

I chuckle, “I suppose.”

After what felt like an eternity of Scootaloo bouncing around my kitchen, I finally convince her that, yes, school is important, and yes, she probably should get going. Being the new sheriff apparently means I have to escort kids to school now, which is fine, I guess. At least I get out of the house.

“So, what’s school like here, anyway?” I ask as we walk down the street with her. I’m not sure why I’m making small talk with a hyperactive filly, but it’s better than awkward silence. Besides, I kind of like her company, she acts normal compared to the rest of these ponies.

Scootaloo shrugs. “It’s school. Pretty boring. Miss Cheerilee teaches us stuff, we take breaks, we go home. Same as anywhere, I guess.”

Well, to be honest, that sounds pretty normal all things considered.

As we approach the school, I catch sight of a few more fillies and colts running around in the playground. I guess this is my cue to leave before someone ropes me into more of this “community bonding” nonsense.

“Alright, kiddo,” I say, stopping just outside the gate. “You’re on your own now. Try not to do anything too... crazy.”

She gives me a confused look but shrugs it off. “See ya, Sheriff!” Scootaloo waves and trots off, disappearing into the crowd of kids, leaving me standing there, alone, feeling like the world’s most confused babysitter.

I let out a long sigh, turning around and heading back toward town. “Okay, Jax. Let’s get to work.”

With nothing better to do, I decide to take a walk around the town. I doubt there’s any crime in this place, but I am being paid to do something, and I was nothing if not responsible.

I pass a couple of stands in the market, ponies selling apples, flowers, baked goods—typical stuff. Most of them greet me with a smile and a wave, hell some even offer me free stuff, which is weird. People back home never smiled this much, unless they wanted something. Then again, maybe they are trying to get on my good side, because I’m the Sheriff, who knows?

“Morning, Sheriff!” one of them calls out.

I nod awkwardly. “Morning.” News sure travel fast here.

As I turn a corner, something—or rather, someone—catches my eye. A pony with a mane that looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial is walking toward me. Her purple hair is perfectly curled, shiny enough to blind someone on a sunny day. Great. I already hate her.

She waves at me with a dainty hoof. “Oh, darling!”

I blink. Darling? I glance behind me, hoping she’s talking to someone else, but nope. She’s looking right at me. This can’t be good.

She trots up to me with a smile that’s just a little too perfect. “You must be the new sheriff everyone’s talking about! I’ve heard so much about you! A valiant hero who fights monsters without fear!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh… well, I’ve been a sheriff for about... twelve hours. What’s the town gossip already?”

The mare giggles like I just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh, Ponyville is such a close-knit community! We hear about everything.” She bats her eyelashes at me. “I’m Rarity, by the way.”

I’m not surprised by the name. Though I did expect her name to be something like, Beautiful Mane or L’oreal or something…

I give her a nod. “Jax.”

“Well, Sheriff Jax,” she says, her eyes scanning me up and down like I’m some kind of exhibit. “I must say, your body and coat are simply divine!”

I freeze for a second, not sure how to respond to that. “Uh... thanks? I guess?”

She steps closer, circling around me like she’s appraising a prize pony, while making me feel I need an adultier adult. “Oh, yes. Such a rugged look. And that coat—so earthy, so... natural.”

I blink, wondering if this is a compliment or if I should be insulted. “I… thanks?.”

Rarity giggles again, fluttering her eyelashes at me. “Simply delightful!” She pauses, looking me over again before her gaze lands on my sheriff’s badge. “Although... I must say, that uniform is a bit... underwhelming, don’t you think?”

I glance down at my sunglasses and the star pinned to my chest. “Underwhelming? Lady, this is all they gave me.”

She gasps dramatically, as if I just told her I was wearing a potato sack. “What?! Oh, no, no, no! We simply cannot have our new sheriff wearing such... plain attire!”

I raise an eyebrow. “What else do I need? A cape?”

Rarity’s eyes sparkle at the suggestion. “Oh, a cape would be fabulous! But no, no, no! I’m thinking something more... elegant.” She taps her chin, deep in thought. “Yes, I could design something for you. Something bold! Strong! Yet refined. You’d look simply marvelous.”

I rub the back of my neck with a hoof. “I’m really not sure I need anything fancy. I mean… I’m not exactly going to a fashion show.”

“Oh, but darling,” Rarity coos, stepping closer, “you must look the part. First impressions are everything! And as Ponyville’s sheriff, you should represent yourself with style, don’t you think?”

I open my mouth to argue but quickly realize I don’t have the energy to fight her on this. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She grins, clearly pleased with herself. “Not a chance, darling.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. Just... try not to make it too ridiculous, okay? I still have to walk around in this thing, also I feel obligated to disclose my budget is non-existent, so… I can’t pay you.”

I probably could, I had a bag of bits… but I rather save that for the one thing I love, food.

Rarity claps her hooves together excitedly. “Oh don’t you worry about that, it’ll be perfect! I’ll make sure it’s both functional and fashionable! You won’t be disappointed.”

I give her a halfhearted nod. “Yeah, sure. Can’t wait.”

After my encounter with Miss L’oreal, aka—Rarity—I decide to keep moving, continuing with my patrol, not really expecting much to do. I mean, this place practically runs on sunshine and rainbows. So, chances are my job will be just this, walking.

As I muse about my responsibilities, turning around the corner, something hops into my path.

I stop, looking down to find... a bunny. A tiny, white bunny. He’s sitting there in the middle of the road, staring up at me like he’s expecting something. I blink, half-expecting the little critter to talk. But nope. He just stares.

“Uh... hey, little guy,” I say, not sure how to greet a rabbit. “You lost or something?”

The bunny just blinks at me, clearly unimpressed. Even the wildlife here has attitude. But hey, he’s better than the Cat I first encountered.

“Right. I guess that means you don’t talk,” I mumble, stepping around him to continue my patrol. “I’ll leave you to it.”

But the second I take a step forward, the bunny darts in front of me again, blocking my path. I frown, glancing down at him. “Hmm... Do you need something?”

The bunny crosses his little arms—do bunnies even have arms?—and taps his foot, glaring up at me like I’ve somehow wronged him. I half-expect him to pull out a clipboard and start filing complaints.

“Okay, seriously,” I say, leaning down a bit, “are you a normal bunny or are you one of those talking animals? Because I’m not in the mood for another one just yet, and the last one is probably two zip codes away.”

The bunny just glares at me, clearly not interested in making small talk. Instead, he points behind him, toward a small path leading out of the main part of town. He gestures again, more urgently this time, like I’m supposed to follow him.

I raise an eyebrow. “What, you want me to go that way?”

He nods, still pointing toward the path.

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Alright, fine. Let’s see where this goes. But if you’re leading me into some kind of bunny ambush, I warn ya, I am tougher than I look.”

With an exaggerated eye roll, I decide to humor the little guy and follow him. If nothing else, maybe someone actually needs help. Who knows, maybe that’s part of my job now.

The bunny leads me through the winding path, hopping along like he’s in a hurry. I trudge behind him, wondering if this is going to be one of those moments where I end up regretting my decision. After a few minutes of walking, we come to a small clearing near the edge of a forest.

And that’s when I see it—or, rather, her.

Sticking out of a tree, legs kicking helplessly in the air, is the rear end of a yellow pony with a long pink tail. That’s right. Just the butt. No head. No neck. Just pony rear, trapped in the branches.

I blink, taking in the scene. “Oh, well... this is awkward.” I inwardly chuckle at the joke that comes to mind.

Step-pony, I’m stuck, help.

The bunny taps his foot impatiently, glaring at me like I’m supposed to know what to do. Right. The bunny wasn’t leading me here to laugh—he just wanted me to help some poor pony stuck in a tree.

I sigh, walking up to the scene. “Alright….” I look up at the yellow pony, whose back legs are still flailing in the air. “Uh... hey. You alright up there?”

The pony’s legs freeze mid-kick. “Oh my goodness!” a soft, squeaky voice calls from within the branches. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to get stuck, I just—oh, dear!”

I suppress a chuckle. “Yeah, I can see that. You need some help or what?”

The legs wiggle again, and the voice squeaks out, even quieter this time, “Oh, yes, please... I’m terribly sorry for the trouble.”

I grab hold of her legs with my hooves—still getting used to this whole “doing things without hands” deal—and give a firm pull. With a little effort, the pony pops free from the tree, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

She immediately scrambles to her feet—or hooves, whatever—her head hanging low, eyes darting to the ground like she’s scared to even look at me. Her long pink mane falls over half her face, and she’s mumbling something so softly, I can barely hear her.

I lean in, trying to catch what she’s saying. “Uh, you alright there?”

She squeaks again, shrinking into herself like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I... um... th-thank you,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s like she’s trying to apologize for existing.

I blink, trying to figure out if she’s actually talking or just breathing at me. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”

Her cheeks turn pink, and she hides even more behind her mane. “Th-thank you...” she whispers again, just a tiny bit louder. Barely.

I nod slowly, deciding it’s best to just roll with it. “Right. No problem.”

The bunny hops over to her, tapping her leg as if to get her attention. She looks down at him, then back up at me, her wide teal eyes filled with anxiety. “I-I’m sorry if I caused any trouble,” she mumbles, still barely audible. “I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to... help a bird.”

I wave a hoof, trying to dismiss her apology before she implodes from nervousness. “Nah, you’re fine. Just try not to get stuck in any more trees, okay?”

She nods quickly, her face turning even redder. “I-I will. I’m... s-so sorry.”

I sigh. “You don’t need to apologize. It happens, I guess.”

She peeks out from behind her mane, her eyes darting between me and the bunny, “Thank you again... Mr. Sheriff. I-I didn’t know we had a sheriff.”

I scratch the back of my neck awkwardly. “I started yesterday.”

She nods, still not quite meeting my eyes. “I-I’m... Fluttershy.”

Her voice is so quiet, I almost don’t catch it. “What was that?”

God this pony is shy. And here I thought seven year old me was socially awkward.

Her cheeks puff up as she tries to gather her courage, and finally she says, just barely loud enough to hear, “Fluttershy.”

“Got it,” I say, giving her a nod. “Jax.”

She nods quickly, then goes back to staring at the ground. The bunny glares at me, as if daring me to say something that might upset her, which is apparently... anything at this point.

“Alright, well... it was a pleasure, Fluttershy,” I say, giving her a little wave as I turn to leave.