One-Shot October 2024

by Georg

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Violence, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character
Length: 20620

Georg’s October 2024 writing goulash

Rather than plow into planning for NaNoWriMo and fail, I’ve been taking October and doing an experiment where I plot out the whole month of writing ex post facto.  It’s a bit enlightening to see how many times I change topics to keep the writing fresh, so dive in and see how I meander for a month.

Published 2024-11-03 05:30:05 UTC
Last updated 2024-11-03 05:30:05 UTC

October 2024

Every four years… Who am I kidding.

I did a One Shot Tober in 2020, where I wrote for the entire month of October in one long file, mixed with various projects I was in the middle of, bits that will never see the light of day, and…stuff. Lots of stuff.

No idea I get is ever so bad that it won’t get repeated, so I decided to plow into this project again rather than hit NaNoWriMo and fireball like I have every other time I’ve tried. Plus, I just got a 8gig Soyo video card. That slowed my writing down even more. Still, there’s lots of stuff in here to look through, spoilers to avoid or enjoy, and maybe a few red herrings here and there. So here we go. Watch out for falling rocks, typos, and lots of disjointed bits since I’m cruising several writing mental threads at a time. This is all UNEDITED, and may change when grafted into the appropriate stories. Or maybe some of it is just a real red herring. So here goes.

(Bridge Troll 10/1/24

xx

“I don’t think there are any boars on this side of the ravine,” said Fetch, who decided to lean on his shovel for a few moments. “I’ve got another shovel if you want.”

“No, thank you.” Tula shifted positions on the cart bench, looking out into the scrub brush and short trees around the stream with an elvish bow in her hand. Charger was contributing in his own horsey way, standing knee-deep in the water and swishing his tail to repel flies. Since it was going to take an hour or two with a shovel to fill the cart with gravel, Fetch had decided to let the old warhorse wander about. Although Charger looked as if he were patrolling to keep his people safe from the nearby dragon, Fetch was fairly confident that the sudden appearance of said dragon would result in the sudden disappearance of their cart-puller.

“You really don’t have to do this,” said Tula. “You know the road crews are going to grade the whole thing, make ditches and underflow areas. All that complicated stuff.”

“And I want to make sure the landing is well graveled,” said Fetch between shovels. “It will keep them away from Lily, if nothing else. I think she enjoys a good scare.”

After a few more scoops of gravel, Tula put Fetch’s bow on the cart seat and picked up the second shovel to help. The job was easier with two, particularly since both shovels were of dwarven design, made longer for taller humans. It was far too easy to think of the Wizard’s two children out for a day trip of gold searching in the riverbed with Lily as bodyguard and observer. In all odds, the two shovels had been purchased for their use, and it felt slightly awkward to be using them in the same way, even if Broom had given them permission.

“Don’t think this gets you out of sword practice,” said Tula when she stopped to take a breath. “You don’t mind getting taught how to fight by a girl, do you?”

“Miss Triana taught me how to fight with staves. It involved a lot of shoveling to get me toughened up first.” Fetch flexed his fingers and looked at the palm of his hand. “I don’t have as many calluses now, so I thought getting warmed up would help.”

“And it helps build the bridge.” Tula shook her head, making her short blonde tresses wave in the breeze. They had not gotten as soaked with sweat as when they had moved stones for the flowerbeds, or cut firewood with the crosscut saw, but they were starting to get damp.

“Once we get this load dumped at the bridge landing, we should take a break,” he suggested.

“But we’re on a roll.” Tula gestured at the long bed of creek gravel they had barely touched, but it was Fetch’s turn to shake his head.

“When we’re unloading, Broom is going to be right there with water for all of us. We’re going to have a break if we need it or not.”

“Ugh.” Tula heaved a few more shovels of gravel into the cart. “And if I’m tired, I won’t be able to hit you so hard in practice?”

“The thought had crossed my mind. You blistered something fierce when we used the crosscut saw.”

She stopped and leaned on her shovel. “You do realize that I don’t normally shovel gravel or cut wood at home.”

“You wanted to hide out here. It comes with chores, just like my home.”

“I suppose.” Tula did not say anything else until the cart was full enough to move and they were attaching Charger to his harness again. “Thank you.”

“Excuse me?” Fetch was just a bit confused, because he had been preparing to say those exact same words.

“Everybody at home treats me like some crystal vase. Even the weapons masters. ‘Did I hurt you, Your Highness?’ Even my tutors… they’re frustrated. I’ll never be as skilled with magic as my mother, but they claim I’m more powerful, even if they can’t do anything with it. Just a few tricks.”

“Tricks I can’t do.” Fetch put down his shovel and began to take off his boots to extract a few pebbles. “Sit down for a minute. We’ll move the cart later. Just sit down and put your hooves in the water like Charger there.”

The horse did not like the comparison, and moved into a deeper part of the stream so he could soak his belly in the cool water.

“So you’re going to show me this magic of yours?” It was said as a complaint, but Tula took her boots off and sat down on the sun-warmed rock next to him, trailing her thin pale toes into the greenish water.

“It’s the first thing Miss Triana taught me when I was old enough to walk with her into the woods.” Fetch splashed his feet. “People make ripples.when they move through the world, like your feet in water. You have to feel those ripples, understand what made them, where they are going, what they intend. But not too much. You can lose yourself in the world if you let it in. She lost her husband that way, a long time ago. He was their best ‘talker’ I suppose is the best word for it. Much like your mother talks to the world and asks it for favors, he talked to the forest. The trees. The grass. Rain. And one day—”

Fetch could not go on. Even after so many years had passed, Miss Triana only had given him a brief exposure to the loss she had gone through, and subsequent tears. Ottao had filled in the rest. He had always been ‘sweet’ on Miss Triana, but could not dare to approach her while she was still in mourning.

“Where did he go?” asked Tula after a while.

“We don’t know. Perhaps he tried to talk to the moon and lost his way back. They tracked him into an open field under a clear sky, and the tracks just ended.”

“Or maybe he became a mage and flew off to explore the world,” said Tula. She tossed a pebble into the water and watched the ripples. “They can change into whatever they want, go wherever they want. They’re not afraid of having their future controlled by everybody around them.”

“A fish in the ocean of the sky.” Fetch took Tula’s warm hand in his, then placed both of the hands into the cool water. “Think about what it would be like to be that fish. Drifting from place to place, seeking food and shade as you wish. Unaware of the water around you. Surrounded by your own kind.”

“Hungry,” said Tula after a while, just sitting in one place with her eyes closed. “Never thirsty. That’s what they think. Small minds. Small thoughts.”

“Can you think those thoughts? Feel the water around you. Be that. Spread your fins to catch the water.” Tula’s fingers spread under the water, and Fetch could feel what he expected, plus a little more. “Now open your eyes, but hold still.”

A minnow swam placidly around in their cupped hands, seemingly undisturbed by their presence.

“I… feel it.” The elven princess started to get up, but held herself down and did not move her wet hands. “It’s just a feather out at the edge of my mind. A tickle.”

“That’s about all you’re going to get from a minnow.” Fetch lowered their hands so the minnow was no longer trapped, but it still swam around the odd fingers that were so different from its own fins. “It doesn’t work for hunting,” he added. “If you want to cause harm to something, you… put out different ripples. Like a pike.”

The minnow sensed which way the conversation was going and departed with a flick of fins.

write point 10/2/24

“Nervous?” Tula swished her wooden sword around and stretched.

“A little blistered, actually.” Fetch swept his own wooden sword back and forth a few times. “I suppose it is good practice for the real thing, because you’re never rested and ready in a fight. Our blacksmith could hammer in the forge, pump the bellows, shovel coal, and everything else in his shop for the whole day. He tried to teach me his technique, and…” Fetch swished the sword again. “Never could quite get it. I could feel it there, just out at the edge of my fingers, but whenever I tried to grasp it—”

“Like a pike on a minnow,” said Tula.

“Exactly. Oh.”

Tula laughed and began drawing a circle in the dirt. “So where do we want to begin? You’ve had some training already, so do you know about the Master’s Wheel?”

“Far too much. But not with a sword.” He struck a series of poses. “Position one. Then two. And three. Four, I can’t do with a sword.”

“Eastern,” said Tula. She demonstrated what he had done, then added six poses of her own, “Elven form has twelve, six on each side. Do these, switch hands, and do those again.”

He did, although with less grace.

“Not bad. My tutor would criticize you endlessly, but he does that for everyone. Here, I’ll show you.”

Several hours slipped by without Fetch realizing as he matched poses and motions with his teacher. Each of the elven sword stations could flow into the next, although switching hands in the middle of a fight was only for masters. There was a certain flow to Tula’s motions, a grace that he admired and tried to copy in his own crude way. It took until the shadows had grown long before he caught onto a repeated technique and exclaimed, “Wait.”

“What?” Tula had frozen in place, a maneuver that made her difficult to predict, but Fetch reached out and guided her wooden sword to one side against his when she continued.

“You’re using a spell,” he said, keeping the flat of his blade in contact as she moved, then moved again.

“Am not.” The princess hesitated and flipped a strand of her blonde hair out of the way. “It’s an ancient technique, passed down from master to student since—”

“It’s a spell,” said Fetch again. “Here, go through that routine against me again.”

This time, he kept the flat of his wooden blade against hers through the whole set of motions, ending when he forced both blades down against the ground. “Did you feel that?”

“A… little,” said Tula. “Like your minnow. Master Ruin said I had potential with the blade, and given a few decades to mature, I would be unbeatable. I thought he was just blowing pollen.”

“No, it’s magic. I’m sure of it. But subtle.” Fetch drew back and walked through the same routine, cutting and thrusting at an imaginary foe until he nearly dropped his weapon. “Ow. My arms hurt. We’ve been doing this all afternoon.”

“An’ yer broom ain’t gonna hold dinner for either of you,” said Quartz, who apparently had been watching their practice for some time since they were occupying his bathing area, and the troll was covered with glittering granite dust. “Me neither. Mind going to the house and cleaning up, because I don’t want to get on the wrong side of ‘er bristles.”

10/3/24 start

“Started on the foundations today,” said Quartz once most of dinner had been dealt with. He gestured with half a loaf of bread in a long, sweeping motion. “Lily’s been a great help.

10/4/24 Yeah, didn’t write much yesterday

Sweetie chapter 17

“Well, that was unexpected.” Granite Peaks scowled at the iron cage in the middle of the room and the unicorn it contained. “Your Highness, you need me to get you out of there.”

“No,” said Shining Armor rather firmly. The unicorn prince looked around his limited domain, restricted by the close grid of iron bars and the featureless crystal room around it. “I can hold the cage open for a few hours if needed. Mister Nott, do you have the information on the trap that you were looking for?”

“In a minute.” Theodore had not stopped waving his wand since exchanging places with the prince. He had expected something unusual from King Sombra’s twisted mind, but having the cage bars collapse around the targeted victim was fairly straightforward. Theodore could have used a shield spell to hold the bars open long enough to escape, but the unicorn’s shield was stable as a chunk of granite, and showed no sign of weakening.

“Shining Armor, you said you could hold this shield for hours?” It had been frustrating for Theodore since the unicorn spell was practically invisible to his own detection charms. It took a few moments to realize that was due to his every spell being deflected almost casually, as if Theodore was trying to look at an angled mirror.

“This size?” The unicorn shrugged. “Until I get tired. Still, I have things to do today, so I’d appreciate it if you would pick up the pace.”

“Understandable.” Theodore finished his inspection with several of his more tricky detection spells. “I’ll have to write up my notes afterward. I keep expecting the Carrows to demand three or more scrolls on how to use this spell on other wizards.”

“Wonderful people at your school,” said Shining Armor.

“Better than mine,” growled Granite Peaks. “Learned my craft in the Manehattan Brambles. Hundreds of ponies, all fighting and clawing for survival. Third of four foals in my family. Only one to make it out, and I’ve still got a catch in my shoulder where my father stuck the knife.”

“What about your mother,” asked Theodore out of reflex.

“He stabbed her first.” Granite Peaks scowled at the trap. “Wrap it up, boy.”

“Did she… die?” asked New Leaf, who was practically glued to Theodore’s leg.

“None of your business, coward.” Granite turned his scowl in Theodore’s direction. “Get him out of there. Now.”

“Not a problem.” Theodore aimed his wand carefully so he would not catch the pony prince in the fringes of the spell. “Reducto.”

And nothing happened, except for the iron bars around Shining Armor constricting slightly more.

* * *

10/5/24

School in the human world was far more complicated than Twilight Sparkle’s School of Friendship. Homework had been discussions with other students, and lessons. Here, the homework involved far more writing, researching into books, and listening to lectures full of facts. Take astronomy, for example. The human stars stayed put, which seemed to be a terrible lack of creativity on behalf of whoever was responsible for their arrangement, and the moon had the terrible tendency to show up in the daylight instead of being restricted to the night as it should have been.

When Sweetie brought up the topic to Professor Sinistra, who taught the class, the elderly witch had the most peculiar reaction. First she laughed. Then after a few minutes, she had gotten quite serious, called class into order, and proceeded as if Sweetie had not said a thing. It was not until an hour later when all of the students were busy with their telescopes trying to find Saturn, when Sweetie saw the professor slip a small flask out of her pointed hat and take a quick sip. Then she looked up into the star-strewn sky, held her thumb and forefinger at arms length as if she were pinching the moon, then moved it back and forth for a time before taking a much longer drink.

It meant that Astronomy was going to be much more difficult than Sweetie expected. Nothing in the sky matched what she had learned as a foal, even if it stayed in place.

10/6

Still, it was fun sitting out under the stars with her classmates. At home, Twilight Sparkle had all kinds of information about the stars that almost but not quite matched what she was learning in human classes. (continue)

“Was that supposed to happen?” asked New Leaf, who was still hiding behind Theodore’s leg.

“Nothing happened,” said Theodore, still a little baffled at the lack of response from a fairly reliable spell. Reducto had not been counterspelled, blocked, reflected, or any other method of spell elimination that he was used to. It just did not work.

“That’s what I meant,” whispered New Leaf. “Should we run?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Theodore tried several other spells on the iron bars surrounding Shining Armor with much the same non-result. Even the blasting spell did nothing but strike a few small sparks, and Granite Peaks’ own attempts at a counterspell were likewise swallowed up without a response.

“This is ridiculous. I have things to get done today.” Shining Armor’s horn glowed brighter and the bars began to bend from the inside as his shield expanded. Granite Peaks had the same reaction as Theodore, resulting in both of them struggling to get through the hall doorway at the same time. New Leaf had a head start and was waiting on them in the corridor beyond, just behind the doorway for cover.

“Can he break those bars?” asked Theodore to himself.

“The boy can shield a city,” growled Granite Peaks. “Saw him cover Canterlot for several days during the wedding. Alicorns would strain to do it, but he had it down cold. Of course he had to deal with a changeling queen in the process, but—”

The sound of iron bars losing physical cohesiveness made any conversation impossible. Bits and pieces of shattered cage scattered in all directions, some of which ricocheted off the opposite wall and clattered down the corridor. Theodore thought that was it for the trap, but New Leaf had a look of intense panic as he shouted, “That’s what an alicorn would do in the trap!”

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place entirely too fast, and Theodore leaned around the corner of the doorway with his wand firmly in hand. The unicorn prince appeared unhurt, but from the amount of panic that Leaf was putting out, that was only temporary.

“Accio!”

The summoning spell generally was not used for people. A good wizard could counter it easily enough, or divert it so his opponent would catch a piece of surrounding debris instead of the expected target flying within reach. It also varied in intensity depending on the willpower of the caster, and at that moment, Theodore had enough will for a whole squad of aurors. The armored unicorn flew in his direction like he had been fired from a Propelling Spell, leaving Theodore barely enough time to realize his mistake before what he estimated as the weight of thirty or forty stone of pony smashed into him.

The back wall of the corridor was very solid. So was Shining Armor’s armor. The squishy center of the wizard sandwich, not so much.

Thankfully, Theodore did not lose consciousness, because the end result of his royal rescue was dramatic enough for him to remember for years.

First, the entire ceiling above the trap dropped.

Hundreds of tons of stone and brilliant crystal smashed down into the room that Shining Armor had recently occupied, caving in the floor and continuing down into an unseen basement with an indescribable noise. Then the floor above that one also collapsed, dropping into the hole with enough force to hammer a blast of air through the open doorway and scatter their little trap-breaker group in all directions.

It took a while for quiet to return, and even then it was not quite as quiet as Theodore wished. Little chunks of stone or crystal plummeted into the dusty hole with thunks and clunks, and there was a wheezing noise that took a few minutes to identify as coming from New Leaf, where he was having a panic fit in the middle of the dusty corridor.

The walk over to the frantic unicorn was quite difficult, as Theodore’s body was still insisting it had been the target of a Jelly Legs curse or perhaps a full bottle of Firewhiskey. He passed over a Pepperup potion, ensured Leaf drank the whole thing, and then got out one for himself, firmly resisting the urge to drink more of them.

Shining Armor did not seem to be phased by the incident at all. He walked over to the open doorway, looked down into the wreckage, and shook his head. “As if I didn’t have enough things to do today. My sister’s coming to visit.”

10/7

Home and Love Garden Supplies (corporate woods to grandview corridor)

Petunia was a sensible pony, with an adventurous streak. It was not the headstrong leap into the unknown that the Bearers of the Elements of Harmony undertook every time they galloped out to face unknown danger, or even the fascinating adventures of the magical human child from the stories that had begun to be translated into Equestrian. She had no desire to attend a school with such dangerous creatures in the basement or actually fly on unstable devices like broomsticks or aeroplanes.

She was adventurous enough to apply for one of the positions on the human portal diplomatic staff, even though the city of Kansas was practically covered with eating establishments that served meat. It took little research to determine that humans had a practical horror over consuming a sapient species, and some of that spilled over to creatures in their world who acted as companions or working partners. That hesitancy was not absolute. Horror movies from the humans only expanded her horizons and added to her determination.

When the embassy opened in Corporate Woods (although the relative number of trees nearby really did not warrant the title of ‘woods’ but more ‘scattered bunch of trees and a creek’ in her regard), Petunia was proud to be in the photograph with the Princesses and other staff. Ambassador Proper Place settled right in to work with secretaries and aides, and Petunia started her job as groundskeeper with a great deal of optimism.

The first four days of her new job passed in a flurry of activity. The fifth day was when the corporate groundskeepers showed up.

Everything she had done was wrong. The bushes were not supposed to be that green. The new flowerbeds were in the wrong place. The gravel path she had created to reach the faucets did not have the correct forms filled out for permissions, and there were constant criticisms of every single plant she had touched, including the grass.

The union demanded she be fired. Ambassador Place stood up for her. In the end, her job was pruned back to just taking care of the potted plants inside the building, and even that was a battle that had to be fought with the building owners who would have been more than happy with a few plastic plants and shrubs.

So her job shrank to about five minutes a day.

It was discouraging. She refused to be discouraged. Her friend helped.

Kim was a helper at the gardening store. In her first week at work, Petunia had met with Kim several times a day. She even drove the store pickup truck for Petunia, since the Uber people did not have a vehicle large enough to take several pallets of flowers back to the office building. And she provided a helpful leg to cry against when the gardening ruffians in the office complex ripped her nurtured flowerbeds into pieces so they could put tasteless turf over the wounds.

And then Kim offered her the most wonderful thing.

A job.

Technically a second job since the Embassy provided her a full-time paycheck, but it was less employment than doing what she loved to do, and getting paid for it. Growes Home Improvement store had a Home and Garden section, which was sorely in need of attention and Petunia had the time to give it. The Building Manager, Mister Hagen, had been more than a little shocked at getting her application, and the interview contained a lot of “um…” on his behalf, but she started just a week after the brutes at the office building had abused her hard work, and it was so nice to be where she was needed.

English was weird. Working the cash register with a stylus in her teeth was even stranger, but learning about human magic and how the computer knew how many items were in the store and what was in the thingie that got waved over the glass plate from a few little lines on the bottom and cable television and traffic rules…

Petunia was quite busy. The embassy had rented an entire floor at the Savai hotel, which was nice because she appreciated the indoor pool, but Kim was renting her mother’s house far closer to Growes, and she had a spare bedroom, with a yard. Kim didn’t like that it was placed so close to the street, but that only left Petunia with more space to work out back. And rather than bother Kim for a ride, Petunia gathered her extra money to buy a truck.

Well, a small truck with a fun name. Sue Zukki. One of the guys from the embassy adjusted the pedals and a very nice policeman gave her a driving test, which she passed. He even gave her extra points for getting him to the hospital emergency room door, even if she did drive up the exit with the pedalestrian she hit. He had been a nice man and she really had not meant to hit him, but he did not pay attention to the colored lights and was practically flying through the intersection like Rainbow Dash only not flying because he could have dodged up instead of trying to use his brakes and he left a dent in the side of Sue which one of the nice guards at the embassy pounded back out and put a few little enchants on just in case it happened again. Only this time she would not drive the pedalestrian into the emergency room.

She never could have done that with the monstrous trucks that people drove.

Miss Ouriy was as much fun as Kansas, even moreso when the neighbors found that Petunia was willing to help them with their own yards in the spring. It was very much a pony thing although none of them had beehives to share, so they had to make do with wild bees from the nearby forested little stream that the human children liked to play in. Some of the neighbors were elderly and needed help setting up their ‘raised bed’ gardens which she was more than happy to assist with, even if it did put most of the work above nose-level, and other neighbors had fruit trees which they had been happy to share. She did take great care to wash all the fruit before eating because humans used a lot of chemicals on trees and bushes and grass. Particularly grass. Some of it even was painted by big trucks that came by and sprayed green not-water, which made it taste terrible even if humans let the grass grow enough for a good bite. Which they didn’t.

Her own garden, or at least the garden that Kim’s mother let her grow in the back yard, had no green paint. It had flowers. Lots of flowers. A few flowering vegetables, some kale because the local stores just could not grow kale, and okra. Flowers in great abundance, although the Miss Ouriy winter had stomped many of them flat when frost swept in without even being scheduled! It had taken a long discussion with Ambassador Place before Petunia recovered from that shock. It was perfectly fine in the abstract to consider a world where the sun and moon did not obey the rules, but frost was… frost! It layed her beautiful plants out in soggy brown rows, destroying their leaves, withering the delicate petals, and leaving the wild bees without winter noms.

She left out a bee feeder just in case any of them came around, but it just wasn’t the same.

Really, she should have guessed something was wrong when the hummingbirds left. Petunia loved their colorful bodies, the way they would squabble like foals over sugar water, and the vibrant flow of feathers around her whenever she got home from work and brought them a new flower to sip from.

10/8 Tuesday

Petunia was a sensible pony. She acted the same as any sensible pony would upon finding a changeling in her garden.

First, she ran into the house and hid in the attic. Then, realizing that changelings can fly, she hid under the couch in the living room. Finally, after realizing how the couch represented insufficient coverage to hide under, she fled into the basement and hid behind a stack of boxes.

That’s where Kim found her. Kim was a good friend. She did not laugh at the silly pony running through the house, or take pictures with her pocket telephone. After several minutes of calm discussion, the young human mare went out into the back yard to confront the invader for Petunia.

Kim was a very good friend. She even took a ballbase stick outside just in case she had to hit it.

“It looks like a changeling,” said Kim when she returned.

“Did you squish it?” asked Petunia. She hated bugs. Except for bees. They were good bugs. And spiders. There was a beautiful yellow orb spider in the back of the garden that Petunia really liked feeding grasshoppers to.

“Err…. No.” Kim pulled out her pocket telephone and began poking buttons. “I’ll call the embassy.” Then after a few minutes of listening, she put the telephone back into her pocket. “Hold time is two hours.”

“A lot of humans call the office just to hear a pony,” managed Petunia through her trembling.

“Well, can you text them?” Kim scowled, which still looked strange without the appropriate flattened ears and thrashing tail of a real scowl. “They wouldn’t let me into their group text last week.”

“I think I left my phone in my locker at work.” Petunia cringed back into the stack of boxes. “Well, you took me to work and they have a phone at work and I kept it in the locker so I wouldn’t lose it again and I didn’t pick it back up because I was late to your car and I didn’t want you to have to wait.”

Kim was obviously a good friend. She did not shout or blame or anything. She did pinch the top of her nose, though. It was one of the strange things humans did that Petunia was still getting used to, and Kim did it a lot.

“Maybe it’s from the embassy,” started Kim rather slowly. “I really didn’t understand it, so if I can get you to translate…”

“Everypony who came through the portal got a dose of the translation spell,” said Petunia in a rush. “I mean it starts fading after a year and I’m still wrestling with some of your idioms but if it's a changeling it had to come through the portal so it must speak human. I mean English.”

Starswirl’s Universal Portal Delimiter was a convenient spell, if a little indiscriminate. Petunia had studied human languages for several moons before the portal was opened, and the sheer number of nonsensical rules with some of them baffled her mind. The few humans who had been permitted on the Equestrian side always remarked how their vocal translations were smooth and effortless, although they complained written Equestrian was almost incomprehensible. Even after only half a year surrounded by Kansas City, Petunia had gotten the written language down cold, both English and Spanish.

“Well, I’m not going to go into the garden and pour it into a bottle,” said Kim. “I’ve got a cauliflower casserole from the Ladies Aide in to cook. If it’s still out there tomorrow, it’s my day off. I’ll go drag it to the embassy.”

Petunia came out from behind the boxes like a spring. “You can’t leave it out there all night! It’s a changeling!”

“And?” Kim turned her head to one side, just like a pony with a question.

“And it could… attack us?”

“I don’t think that creature is attacking anything. Other than your hummingbird feeders.”

Curiosity slowly overcame Petunia’s fear. With her friend at her side, she picked her way up the basement stairs, across the plant-filled back porch, and peered out into the back yard.

The changeling was still there, rolled over on its back with all four limbs waving aimlessly in the air. It obviously detected their presence because it turned in their direction and fixed Petunia with a rather unfocused gaze… well, since it was only one eye, and the other seemed to be fixed upon a branch in the top of a tree, it was technically only half a gaze. There was an empty hummingbird feeder placed on the center of its chest, and several others scattered around within reach, as well as a considerable amount of hummingbird food smeared around its face and dripping from both ears.

“E’llo, luv,” he said with a detached smile and considerable slurring of his words. “You delightful, beauuuuutiful queen. Let’s fly to the sky and let me die in your service. Soon ash I get up.”

There was a brief struggle of wings and legs, resulting in the changeling doing little more than shifting positions on the grass ever so slightly. This was shortly followed by his beautiful tenor voice breaking out into a song of some sort, quite obviously in whatever language the changelings used although in all probability none of his own kind would have been able to understand it either unless they too were sloshed to the gills.

It took two hours on hold to get through to the embassy on Kim’s telephone.

It took less than thirty minutes for a Royal Guard chariot to arrive, take the errant changeling into custody, and fly him back to the portal.

10/9/24

Petunia thought she was rid of the terrifying bug.

She was terribly wrong.

Chapter 2

It was watering day, and Petunia was having an avoidance fit.

In Equestria, she had been fascinated by the human world, and one of the first ponies who volunteered to join the embassy.

(copy chunk previously written)

Now, she had a job to do before her job at Growes, and if she delayed too much, she could lose both jobs. Since her phone was at the store, she had nosed Kim out of bed to drive her to the embassy before traffic turned into a giant mess, and darted inside the embassy in the early light of dawn as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Hey, pretty lady,” rumbled Impending Storms, the hefty Royal Guard stallion at the front desk. “Did you find any more changelings for us to push back through the gate?”

“No!” she squeaked, then practically dove into the nearby janitor’s closet to get her watering can. While it was filling, she added, “You made sure he’s back in Equestria, right? In a cell? With chains?”

“He’s back in Equestria,” said Storms.

Petunia darted off to her watering tasks, and it was not until the third watering can refill that she really thought about what the guard had left unsaid.

“They didn’t put him in a cell?”

Storms shrugged. “He’s Thorax’s problem now. Don’t know what got into the crazy bug. He was singing all the way into the gate, all happy and bubbling over like he had gotten into a keg of brandy. He’s probably halfway to the Badlands by now with an icepack on his head and a splitting hornache.”

“Why did you leave him into the human world the first time?” asked Petunia, then scurried back to the janitor’s closet to turn off the water before the can overflowed.

Storms shrugged again. “He must have come through while I was off duty.” It looked like the Royal Guard was going to volunteer some more information, but he settled back down and added, “Anyway, he’s out of your mane.”

“Good!” Petunia finished scurrying around the office, giving one of the philodendrons a skeptical look and deciding to bring some storebought miraculous grow on her next trip so the leaves wouldn’t wilt as much. It was a gift from Twilight Sparkle’s school, and if it died, they’d probably fire her and send her back through the portal and make her face that terrifying changeling again.

“Done,” she declared while putting the watering can back into the closet upside-down to dry. “Tell the ambassador I’ll visit in a few days to perk up Twilight’s gift and deal with the mites on the second floor. Growes has some human plant medicine for that, and I want to see if it is as good as the label says, or if I have to mix something special up.”

10/10/24

“Thanks, Pet.” The stallion waved, but Petunia was already out the door. She stopped at the ornamental bushes for a moment, added a bit of earth pony magic to the soil so they wouldn’t look so droopy, and made a note to put two drops of her own special formula into the miraculous grow that the building groundskeepers used on the building bushes.

Just because the groundskeeper union had ripped out all of her hard work after her first week at the embassy, every flower and ornamental shrub she had placed around the building, and replaced them with the dull evergreen arborvitae that plagued the city, did not mean Petunia was mad at them Not all all. They only would have gotten her fired if Ambassador Place had not stuck up for her, making a special position on the staff.

Enough time for sulking. It was time to scurry to Kim’s vehicle, wake up her dozing human roommate, and buckle up for the trip to her human job. The interstate was still moving at this time of morning, and Kim’s Core Rolla dropped her off at the front door with time to spare before she needed to clock in.

“Mornin’ Petunia.” The Building Manager, Mister Hagen, was always trying to get to the door before she arrived, mostly because he was uncomfortable with the way she would take care of the outside plants while waiting. She had a key to the building, but did not like to start work before everyhuman else because it made them look bad.

“Good morning, Carl. It looks like a beautiful spring day. We’re going to make so many people happy today.”

The slender man chuckled as he unlocked the door. “I heard you had a pest problem last night. Are you needing to rent a sprayer for this afternoon?”

“What?” Petunia almost stumbled coming through the sliding glass door.

“Ambassador Proper Place called. He wanted to see if you wanted an extra day off.”

“Oh, no!” There was a loose cart by the doors, and Petunia began nudging it toward the parking place. “Sitting around the house with nothing to do on such a pretty day?”

“Nothing?” Carl kept walking along beside her as they headed for the garden section. “Your employee discount card says otherwise. And that’s not counting the broken plants you’re taking home. If I hadn’t driven by your house a week ago, I would have thought you were selling them on the side.”

“Oh no I’d never do that because it’s against the rules and you know rules are very important and I’ve been very careful and what did Ambassador Place say exactly?”

Petunia didn’t think she was letting too much of her nervousness show. After all, she was still trying to get accustomed to the way humans displayed their emotions. The problem was she had little control over her tail, which lashed Carl across the thighs hard enough that he nearly stumbled.

10/11/24

After the inevitable apology, Carl managed to get away without telling her what the ambassador had passed along, and Petunia went through the rest of the morning in a crabby mood. Lunch did not help, because her DoorDash salad order had chicken slivers in it despite her having pushed the phone button to keep them out several times.

She bagged them and put them into the icebox. Kim’s cat would appreciate them, but Petunia could still feel little bits of chicken flesh between her teeth as she finished her shift. That sense of discomfort continued while she went out front and waited for her Uber, and came to a sharp peak when Carl walked up beside her, making extra noise so he would not startle her again.

“Afternoon, Petunia.” He handed over a plastic bag. “You put your phone in the staff refrigerator again.”

“Oh!” She hurried to pick it out of her hands and fumble it into her saddlebag. “Sorry, sir. I’ve been a little rattled.”

“I didn’t think having another Equestrian visit would shake you this much,” said Carl. He held out the container of chicken flesh. “Are you taking him a snack?”

“No!” Petunia fumbled with the plastic container, almost spilling it. “He’s a changeling.”

“That’s… um… What’s a changeling” asked Carl in a burst of words.

It took longer for Petunia to explain than she expected. Since she had forgotten to actually call an Uber, she accepted a lift home from her boss and explained on the way. To make matters worse, Petunia really didn’t know that much about changelings other than what she had read in the Canterlot Sun, so there was a lot of guesswork in their conversation. Carl was nice enough to go look in the garden first, just in case the changeling was back, and once he was sure she was safe, he headed back to Growes and left Petunia to the comfort of her garden.

Some say home is where the heart is. In Petunia’s opinion, the heart was green, and required much fertilization.

10/12/24

And (ok, today wasn’t very productive)

10/13/24

It did her heart good to be surrounded by a garden again, with a whole days worth of neglect that needed to be caught up on. When she had first seen Kim’s home, it had been so terrible. There had been a dead tree, dead grass, and a clump of iriseses that was working on taking over. It was inexcusable, worse when Kim revealed where she worked.

Note: Hank has been to the house several times. Short for Hankerchief.

She had to admit Growes was a lot more convenient than finding a dozen or so places around Ponyville to collect a dozen or more items needed for proper gardening. Humans liked having all their buying things in one place, and having things scattered out through their gigantic cities. The first time Kim had taken her to Ikea, the experience had shaken her to the hooves. She had to buy a bedframe anyway for her apartment, and the selections were astonishing.

That had been early in her time with the humans, so she had not asked for help from Kim. After all, the human was only a clerk at the store, and at that point, she didn’t really understand how people worked. Technically, she still could not figure out how their carnivore minds worked, but she understood them a lot more than the assembly instructions for the bedframe. Eventually after much frustration and some splinters in her lip, she had just tossed the boards into a pile and put the mattress on the floor.

Now that she had moved in with Kim, the boards were piled in the garage next to Sue Zuki, since there was lots of space left over even with a few bits and pieces of her gardening supplies she had stored there. The rest were in the plastic shed that Kim helped her assemble, tucked into the back yard where it would be close to where she worked.

Surrounded by compost, potting soil, tools, seeds, seedlings, bits of plastic sheeting, and several shoots stuck in sprouting compound, Petunia could feel a bit of normality soak back into her recent chaos. No, that was not quite right. Even Discord had not upset her this much, and Petunia had suffered through one of his personal visits. It had given her new insight into flowers, since being a petunia was unlike what she had expected.

She had always sung while in her garden, even before moving to the human world. It brought comfort to her heart, a welcome sense of belonging when events did not follow her plans. What she did not expect in the warm Kansas sunshine was to hear another voice mixing in with hers.

The shock, once she realized what it was, stopped her voice cold. Worse, was the voice she heard when the silence got too much.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter break

Petunia was feeling violated. It was worse than watching the Corporate Woods groundskeepers rip up all of her hard work and replace it with those soulless evergreen bushes and tasteless zoysia grass. Worse, the voice had come from the direction of the house, so she could not even sprint inside and hide under her bed. Provided she could assemble the bedframe.

“I’m really, really sorry.”

At least it was not a raspy, evil voice like one of the human horror movies, but it still was between her and the house, and it brought Petunia’s heart to a hammering crescendo.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, My Queen. I mean Petunia! Not a queen. I don’t know what happened to my head! Arrrh! This was a bad idea.”

There were a series of quiet thumps that followed, much like if a pony were beating his head against the ground. When Petunia got up the courage to look, that’s exactly what she saw, only with a grass-covered changeling flat on its belly.

“What…what are you doing?” she managed to ask, even though the answer was obvious and about as nonsensical as anything.

"I don't know!" wailed the changeling in a raspy nasal whine. "I was just flying around in the middle of the night, looking at all the fascinating human things in Kansas City from the air and the next thing I know, I'm flat on my back in your garden, singing... something. I didn't mean it. Honest. But I can't stop it! All I can think of is you're my queen and we're supposed to go on a mating flight and as far as I know of, Queen Chrysalis never went on a mating flight in the last thousand years because all the changelings in the hive did just fine keeping up our numbers without 'ruining her beautiful figure' and it has to be something in our genetic pattern that responds to a queen's pheromones that triggered in my head and I can't untrigger it! I'm sorry! I thought shifting forms to block my ability to smell would help but it’s not!"

"Well, that explains why it sounds like he’s pinching his nose," said Kim, who had gone out onto the porch on the opposite side of the changeling sometime during the distraction. "I told you mixing up those bug repellent things wasn't a good idea. Maybe you can mix up something to un-trigger his mind? If there is a mind in there."

"Me?" squeaked Petunia. "I didn't mean to make something to copy his stupid pheromones intentionally! It’s the Japanese beetles fault, if anything.”

Hank - snacks pegasus Antonio - unicorn

“They were delicious,” moaned the changeling. “So spicy.”

“Wait,” said Kim, holding up one hand. “You ate the beetles in the traps?”

“That’s not important,” wailed Petunia. “Get him out of here! Go get… a broom or something!”

“You didn’t think the beetle traps were attracting enough beetles,” said Kim, raising one finger after another as she progressed down a terrible chain of logic. “You hate the little pests as much as you love your plants. So you took over the kitchen for most of last week, mixing and measuring until I was afraid to eat anything out of the fridge. And you decided the hummingbird feeders needed a little something extra too. You’re lucky you only attracted one unwelcome pest.”

“I’m sorry,” moaned the changeling.

“And you’re really lucky you didn’t drop over dead.” Kim picked up one of the discarded Japanese beetle traps and examined the toothmarks on it. “You ate the pheromone lures out of them, and whatever chemical attractant my roomie added. Then you washed it all down with sugar water and more chemicals. How are you alive?”

“Love.” The changeling hiccuped. “We can eat about anything with enough love to digest it. And—”

“—this garden is full of love,” continued Kim. “So do you want me to call the embassy to have your love bug dragged back through the portal again, or 911 so he can get his stomach pumped?”

“Whatever my queen desires,” moaned the changeling, then clapped both ragged forehooves over his face. “I’m sorry!”

my little monster in the closet Minor update

“Why do you keep calling me your queen?” asked Petunia while edging sideways, looking for a way around the changeling so she could sprint into the house and hide under her bed… that is Kim’s bed, which actually was off the floor.

When the changeling did not answer, Kim did. “Probably part of that brain rewiring your chemical cocktail did. Good thing you didn’t keep notes on your little chemical cocktail, or you could go back to Equestria and start your own hive. Hundreds of studly buggies at your beck and call.”

“This isn’t funny!” hissed Petunia.

“My queen is right,” said the changeling forcefully, then put both forehooves over his face again.

“I’m not your queen!” hissed Petunia louder.

“Whatever you say, My Queen,” said the changeling, who then buried his face into the grass and put both holey forelegs over the top of his head.

With the changeling incapacitated for the moment, Petunia sprinted into the house, clattered through the living room, and dove underneath Kim’s bed.

It was at least an hour later before Kim came back into the house, or at least it looked like Kim.

10/19

The changeling could have already replaced her, putting the human in a pod as a first step to his evil plot to take over the world, just like the human movie with the pod people that Kim disliked so much. Petunia had already used her portable telephone to notify the ambassador and tell him he should bring every member of the diplomatic delegation and the human police and the fire department and the army. She had heard the clinking of silverware and dishes in the background, so hopefully Petunia had not interrupted some critical diplomatic dinner or meeting, but Ambassador Place was a very forgiving pony and would forgive her for the panic once the dangerous changeling was dragged back to Equestria and imprisoned in a dungeon in the furthest country away from the portal as possible. In chains.

“Petunia?” sounded Kim’s voice, or at least what sounded like her human friend. “Are you hiding under my bed?”

“No.”

There was a brief pause, and Kim’s upside-down face appeared in the gap under the bed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Kim let out a subdued huff of breath and began reaching under the bed. “Get out here, scaredy-pony. Hank’s more afraid of you than you are of him. Gotcha!”

“He can’t be that afraid!” Petunia struggled, but Kim had a good grip on her fetlock, and panic was making her weak.

“Think about it from his point of view,” said Kim as she pulled. “He’s in a completely different world, all alone, and you messed with his mind in a way that took away all of his control. I talked with him for a bit. He’s helpless. Whatever chemical whammy you did to his brain kicked in a reflex that he has never seen before, and it scares the tar out of him. If he could run away, he would. His malfunctioning brain dragged him back here despite his entire lifetime of training. Changelings hide. They blend in. They don’t come dragging back to the scene of the crime, apologizing.”

Kim was not crazy. She was as sensible as a pony in many regards. She was just wrong.

“Let me go! He’s crazy!”

“And you made him that way!” Kim poked her on the nose. “That’s not very nice.”

It was the worst thing her human friend could say. Or at least until she added one last sentence.

“I want you to go out on the porch and apologize.”

“Me? Never!”

(check to see if this is a good spot for a chapter break)

“I want to—” Petunia choked back a few words. “I need to— I didn’t mean to mess with your mind.”

“No, it’s my fault.” It was a little difficult to understand the changeling with his face stuffed against the grass, but he refused to move. “I came nosing into your business without an invitation, just like the old changelings.” He huddled up and wrapped both holey forelegs around his chest. “I think the pheromones are soaking in through my carapace. Everything feels like it’s on fire.”

“Like licking a power line,” added Kim. “You didn’t know what you were doing, but you know better than to do it again. If you survive.”

“I can’t handle this,” said Petunia, backing up until her rump made contact with the closed back door of the house. “I need you gone. Out of here. Back to Equestria. Please!”

“Very well. Call the pony ambassador. Have him take me home. I’ll go. And never come back. As you command, My Queen. I mean Petunia! Petunia! It’s such a wonderful nugmph!” The changeling began beating his head against the grass again, crying profusely.

“I got him.” Kim stepped forward and let Petunia scurry back into the house.

She could still hear him crying from under Kim’s bed, until the Royal Guard arrived to take him away.

Again.

Normally, Petunia liked work almost as much as working in her garden. This week, she was twitchy to say the least. Paul from Plumbing was a nice human, if a bit flummoxed by her presence. He was not used to ponies. He was not really used to people, either. He kept checking on her at the top of each hour, and helped move the pallets of strawberries in when the delivery truck made its visit.

The pallets always gave her splinters. The last time, Kim had to get out the tweezers and pick several out of her lower lip.

“Petunia, have you seen Hank recently? His plumbing contractor was just by, and he hasn't seen him in the last few days.”

“Hank?” Petunia shook her head. “I don’t know any human by that name.”

“He’s a unicorn.” Paul fidgeted, looking terribly uncomfortable. “I know that’s a little racist to think all ponies know each other, but there’s only a dozen or so in Kansas City. I just thought…”

“He’s a unicorn?” Admittedly, Petunia had only been in the greenery crew, but the gossip chain was filled with feathery links. None of the Royal Guard had mentioned anything about a unicorn plumber, and she was fairly sure they would have been willing to tweak her about it.

“In here at least once a week with his boss. Sounds like he’s apprenticing. All kinds of questions about PVC. He didn’t ask about you, though.”

It was vaguely upsetting and curious at the same time. Petunia had always been popular with the stallions around Ponyville, and even humans liked to ruffle her mane and scratch behind her ears. Then there was the changeling, who knocked all of that good feeling out of her like a pillow.

It was worth keeping her eyes open, and the next day when the tall older man in the stained overalls showed up in Growes, Petunia took a break to go talk with him. He was fairly harmless-looking, with a fringe of curly white hair and a broad grin that showed plenty of white teeth, one of which had a gold cap.

“Mister Potter?” It was a little odd to have a plumber named Potter, but humans were weird. “I was wondering if you knew anything about a unicorn named Hank?”

The human put an eight inch sewer pipe joint into his cart and started counting pressure fittings. “Hankerchief? Yeah, he’s been a great help since I threw out my back, shoveling snow. He wasn’t able to keep up with his roofing crew moving south for the winter anyway. Don’t tell me you want to be a plumber too, little lady.”

“No, I’m fine in the garden section.” A sudden realization soaked into Petunia’s back like somepony had dumped a slushie on her. “His name is Hank?”

“Yes, of course. Hankerchief. Been working with him for about five months now. A nice guy. Then a week or so ago, he just vanished.”

“No, I mean Kim said the changeling’s name was Hank.”

“A changeling?” The plumber scratched his chin. “I read up on them from the article in the KC Star. Didn’t think I’d see one. Suppose that explains one thing that was bothering me a bit.”

10/20/24
check other stories

10/24

“He used his mind control powers on you?” asked Petunia.

“No, I mean when the Armendarez brothers recommended him to me, they said he was a pegasus.”

It was impossible. Petunia did not want to bring it up to Kim because she would just be called a scaredy-pony again. But if the changeling was really imponyanting Hankerchief, somepony had to find the pod and free him. The human police would just laugh at her, and the Royal Guards never took her seriously. The plumber had painted a picture of ‘Hank’ being a kindly, helpful pony, who had been renting a room at an elderly human lady’s house for most of the last year, since about when the embassy had opened. It clashed with every single observation she had made so far, but as an Equestrian, it was her responsibility to make other Equestrians look good.

And rescue them if they were stuck in a changeling pod.

Driving helped calm her nerves. Sue Zuki was a beautiful example of human engineering, even if she needed some blocks on the pedals to bring them up to her reach. On days when she was not pressed for time, she could drive it all the way to Growes on side-streets, waving at people and children as she went along.

With occasional stops to ask a human houseowner about the state of a drooping bush or sad tree.

The older lady’s home was less than a dozen furlongs from Kim’s house, a short drive along tree-lined streets. Petunia was still upset, but she was handling it well. She was from Ponyville, after all. Earth did not have giant stellar bears or Trixie, so it was safer in that regard. Until recently, she did not think there were changelings here either. Neither did the humans. Changelings were tricky that way. Even if they were deluded.

The address that the plumber had given Petunia was a middle-sized older house with a pair of cars parked outside and two older women out in the yard. They waved as Petunia pulled in, looking very surprised at their new visitor.

“Are you one of Hank’s friends?” called out one of them before she even got the parking brake applied. “Nadine talked about him all the time.”

“I really haven’t met… Hank,” said Petunia. “He… um… hasn’t really been in my social circle.”

“But you’re ponies,” said the second older lady. “I thought… Uh, I’m Augusta, Nadine’s daughter. Mom talked about Hank all the time when we voice-chatted, and sometimes we heard him in the background. This is Martha. She’s older than I am. Lots.”

“Hey.” Martha gave her sister a friendly elbow. “We’re glad to meet you. We’re just up for a few days, getting our mother’s house in order after she moved to the assisted living center.”

“She wanted to stay here, but she’s fallen too much lately,” continued Augusta. “The two of us live too far away to watch over her. She was struggling so much before Hank moved in.”

The two older ladies chatted away about how their mother appreciated having Hank in the house, and the way he cheered her up. It irked Petunia for a dangerous changeling to be treated as a convenient pet, worse when she saw the way he had decorated his small room. It was filled with posters and other human trivia, strange hats with big round ears and tiny plastic toys, stacks of DVDs and music CDs, and an entire box full of forks.

“It’s a giant garage sale just waiting to happen,” said Martha. She peeled a little sticky label off a toy and examined it. “Or the after-effects of visiting a few hundred.”

“Mom wants us to have an estate sale the Saturday after next. Do you know if Hank wants to toss any of his stuff in with hers?”

“I’m… not sure.” There was so much junk in the room, and Hank had been exiled to Equestria forever so he wasn’t going to get it back. She certainly was not going to ship it there, but selling what he had taken so much time to collect was unfair. Even for a changeling. “You’re selling the house?”

“Mom was going to sell it earlier, but Hank has been working on so many of the things that needed fixed first. Like the toilet used to overflow whenever the dishwasher was running.”

“Hank pulled a half-dozen Legos out of the pipe,” added Augusta. “Grandkids.”

In the end, the older ladies promised to have Hank’s things boxed up if Petunia would return before the garage sale and pick them up. There were several other relatives who would be helping pick up and sort, so Petunia would only be in the way. Besides, the old lady’s back yard had seen the changeling’s work also. There were several raised bed gardening plots, a sculpted line of bushes, and a new apple tree that had not yet begun to properly fruit. All of them showed signs of being completed in the last year, so the source of their origin was obvious.

If confusing.

The time it took to drive back to the house only made her confusion grow. Petunia wanted things to be straightforward. Plants grew. Rain fell. Well, human rain fell whenever it wanted, so the analogy did not fit well, and could not be changed the way a changeling turned into whatever it wanted. She did not want to change, but living with humans made her. Some of these changes were for the better. Some…she was unsure.

The changeling had his life change in a way that he had no control over. If she had experienced the same change, Petunia would have been nearly catatonic.

Working through the afternoon in her garden soothed her mind more than any medicine. There was order in the green beans, peace in the peas, and a sense of belonging that came with moving and tying the cucumber vines so they would grow evenly. She immersed herself in the tomatoes, picking off the few grasshoppers who had managed to evade the traps and throwing them into Yello’s web with a set of Growes BBQ tongs, where they met quick justice for their trespass. Petunia really did not think a yellow orb spider would find a changeling appealing, even if it was small enough to fit into her web, and Petunia was not even going to think about making the spider grow to changeling-eating size. That kind of thought in Ponyville was dangerous.

* * *

Petunia noticed the pickup truck pulling into the driveway, but did not pay it much attention. Kim was dating, after all, and had a tendency to be attracted to the red necked variety. So she continued to deal with the radishes. They took a great deal of care, although Kim did not appreciate a good radish green salad like she should.

“” The rich Mexican accent was familiar, since so many groundskeepers and contractors stopped by Growes, and the Equestrian portal spell had given Petunia a ‘template’ of the local languages when she arrived. The spell would fade over a year or two, replaced by fluency if practiced enough, and Petunia found plenty of Mexicans spoke the language with all kinds of variants in speed and pronunciation. This one was a rustic, sloppy accent with a hint of suppressed casual profanity.

“I understand there’s a pony here? One of my crew wanted to talk to her.”

A cold touch trickled up Petunia’s flanks. “A changeling?”

“Well. Yeah, I suppose. Although for most of last year, we thought he was just a pegasus. Now, we all think he’s lost his nut.” Two Mexican humans carrying something between them came into the back yard, stepping carefully. They were dirty and sweaty like most of the Mexicans she saw at work, but she was paying far more attention to the wrapped bundle.

It looked like a roll of landscaping fabric, with some sort of respirator like Growes sold on aisle G14 duct-taped to the top.

“Are we here?” said a muffled voice. “Wait. No. Go back. I can feel her nearby. I thought the respirator would help. Better take me back to the portal now, Lupe. I’m sorry, My Queen. I mean Petunia! Sorry!”

“Told you he was a nut,” said Lupe. “Want us to drag him back to the truck, señorita?”

“Wait.” The word escaped Petunia before she could stop it.

There was a long silence.

“Señorita?”

“I’m thinking!” Petunia took several steps forward, continuing until Lupe put down his end of the plywood, leaving the wrapped-up changeling generally right side up but totally incapacitated. “He can’t get loose, can he?”

Lupe shrugged. “He was real intent on getting tied up. Never saw him so worked up since José got his leg broken and he flew him off to the emergency room.”

Petunia winced. “He’s a changeling? Didn’t he do anything bad?”

“He stole my lunch once,” said the other Mexican. “But he bought me a new one the next day.”

“He’s not a saint,” said Lupe. “You should hear him swear.”

“He scared me,” said Petunia. “But maybe…it was because he was just as afraid. Not evil. Because he’s a changeling. And they’re evil. Or mean, at least.”

Lupe shrugged again. “Nobody’s perfect. He couldn’t stop talking about you.” The Mexican human hesitated, then continued, “I’ve got a cousin who got drunk and passed out in his girlfriend’s birdbath. Hank sounded like a priest who drank a case of bad tequila or two and got kinky with a nun.”

“The further I got from you, the worse it got,” moaned the changeling. “I was on fire. Your presence is like cool water, My Queen.”

“My cousin sounded like that when he first broke up with his girlfriend,” said Lupe. “Then when they got back together, and broke up again. We didn’t have to tie him up like this, but he eventually went to AA, and they’re doing much better now. Did you still want us to take him back to the portal?”

It was a question she did not want to answer. If she sent the changeling back to Equestria again, it sounded like he would be in pain, and he’d still find a way back here.

10/27 sun morning

“Yes and no?” Petunia did not like conflict, and Kim was out of the house so she could not hide behind her roommate. “I’ve got an idea.”

* * *

“I’m back from getting groceries.” Kim tossed her keys on the coatrack and lugged a bag in the direction of the kitchen while continuing, “I think we spend fifty bucks a month on ranch dressing. If you plant any more bushes in the front yard, the mower won’t even make one salad.”

“She’s in the bathroom,” came a muffled voice from the living room.

“Oh, great.” Kim opened the fridge, made a space amidst the vegetables for a jug of milk, and closed the door. “You one of Petunia’s friends?”

“Kind of.”

Once she had the canned goods put away, Kim strolled into the living room, stopped with a can of soda nearly to her lips, and just looked for a while. It looked like somebody had taken a slab of plywood, wrapped it vigorously in ground cover fabric to the point of ridiculousness, and stuck a respirator on the top of it, but that was irrational, and did not explain the voice..

“Am I interrupting anything?” Kim waited for a response, getting nothing but breathing in return. She took a drink from her soda, waited a little more, and decided against calling the pony ambassador. She did take a picture with her phone and sent it to him, though.

“Oh, good! You’re home!” Petunia galloped into the living room and hid behind her human roommate. “We’ve got a problem.”

“We?”

“Not that I’m trying to pass this off to you,” continued Petunia rapidly.

“Yes, you are, My Queen,” said the muffled voice.

“Am not!” Petunia peered out from behind Kim’s leg. “Tell him!”

“I’m going to side with the trussed-up changeling,” said Kim. “Was it like this in Ponyville? Is that the reason why you moved here?”

“No! Well, a little Only every week or two. And the giant bear. Everypony knows about the bear.”

“I didn’t know about the bear,” said the muffled voice.

“I didn’t ask you,” snapped Petunia. “Anyway, now that you’re home, we can take the romantic bug to a hospital and get his brain fixed. I packed us some sandwiches. Grab one end of the board and I’ll get the other.”

“Oh, sure.” Kim finished off her soda. “I’m sure KU Med has a full suite of Equestrian changeling neurospecialists on call this evening. We’ll just whisk him in there, get his brain laundered, and have him sent back home by dark.”

“Great!” Petunia bumped the board over, ignored the thud from the incapacitated changeling hitting the carpet, and grabbed one end in her teeth. “We’ll fold the back seats down like when I bring home fertilizer and he’ll fit right in.”

“I was being sarcastic,” said Kim. “Oh, wait.” She retrieved her sign, held it up, and pointed at it. “See?”

“Oh.”

Petunia dropped her end of the board with a thump.

The thumped changeling let out a groan.

Kim put her sign away, but in a place where she could conveniently grab it if needed. “I think we need to talk before we drag your new pet off to the vet.”

* * *

Kim was being human-stubborn again. She just could not see how dangerous a changeling could be. She even let him out of his landscaping fabric cocoon and made him sit on the couch while he talked. Petunia tried to escape by taking the fabric out to the garage for storage, but Kim followed her out and led her back like a disobedient foal.

Her ears did perk up when Kim’s questions got into an interesting area, though.

“So you’ve never heard of a male changeling going into… I’m just going to call this heat, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not heat,” said Petunia tersely. “We get worked up a bit every month. That’s normal. This is weird.”

“It’s weird from this end too,” admitted the changeling. “Female changelings cycle about the same as ponies. They get a little romantic. This is like getting hit in the face with a framing hammer.”

“And it was worse when you were in Equestria, right?” asked Kim.

The changeling put his head down and shuddered. “Yes. Terrible. Worse and worse, every minute I was away.”

“And it’s better now? Even when she was in the bathroom.”

“Hey?” Petunia bristled. “I wasn’t going to take him in there.”

“I knew where she was, so it was…tolerable.” The changeling licked his dry lips. “I’ve never heard of this happening to another changeling. Another male changeling. The others I talked to… They thought I should be put down, before I infected any others.”

“That’s terrible,” gasped Petunia before she could get control of her words.

“If it never happened to another changeling, why did they have a ‘treatment’ ready?” said Kim, pressing closer.

“Well… There were stories. I better stop there.” The changeling closed his fanged mouth with a snap, but watched intently when Kim turned to face Petunia.

“Order him to tell you,” she said.

“What?”

“If it’s some sort of queen mind-control buried deep in his hindbrain,” continued Kim with a thoughtful expression, “and you tripped his circuit breaker brain, he has to tell you.”

“NO!” Petunia stormed out of the room, but returned fairly quickly when she heard Kim and the changeling conspiring together. “How do you know he won’t lie to us?”

“I would never lie to you, My Queen,” whispered the changeling. “I would die first.”

“Whoa, there Romeo.” Kim waved her hands like she was chasing a mosquito. “Take it down a notch.”

The changeling cringed back and slumped like he had been struck. “I would allow myself to be seriously injured first?”

“Another notch,” said Kim.

“Minor injuries?”

“And one more should do it. Now, your queen demands that you tell her why the other changelings wanted to kill you.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do,” pressed Kim. “Spill it. I’d think your bug queen would need some sort of enforced romance if she’s going to lay however many eggs she needs to produce to keep your hive population intact.”

“Oh, Queen Chrysalis never egged,” said the changeling rapidly. “Said it would ruin her figure. She has a very good figure. Even petrified. I’d never say anything bad about her at all.”

“So your booby-trapped brain, along with every other male changeling, has an obsolete switch that my roommate’s chemical cocktail tripped, and they’re worried that some of the switch-flipping chemicals may rub off on them?”

“Uh…Yes.”

“And no other changeling that you know of has ever been ‘tripped’ in this fashion? Not even in stories?”

“Well, in stories only. But they’re not for young nymphs.”

10/29 here

Kim stopped for a moment to rub her eyes. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. We don’t have any brain bleach. Anyway, that means the rest of the changelings reproduce like…ponies.”

“No!” declared Petunia, calling upon her extensive reading of the Canterlot Sun. “Changelings lay eggs.”

“Not like chickens,” admitted the changeling, shaking his head. “The young changeling is nearly formed when born. Hatching happens a few weeks later. I don’t understand how chickens work. There’s almost nothing there at all when the eggs are laid. Your chickens are just like pony chickens, only not as colorful, so it’s another constant between our worlds.”

“So…” Kim went to the bookshelf and retrieved one of the encyclopedia volumes. She read for a while, then looked up. “You have bees and ants there, right?”

“Right,” said Petunia and the changeling at the same time, but she glared him into silence. “Our ants are smarter. We can put out repellent, and they leave plants alone. I had to mix up a whole set of chemicals to get the ants to go away here. Thankfully, it’s my special talent.”

Kim looked rather skeptically at Petunia’s rear end, and the flower in a test tube that signified her Cutie Mark. “That’s what got us into this mess.”

“I’m sorry,” murmured the changeling.

“What’s done is done.” Kim closed the encyclopedia with a loud noise that made Petunia jump. “So, whatever loose genetic wires in your head can be triggered by a horney queen got trigged by a—”

“Don’t say it.” Petunia glared at her roommate. “I didn’t mean to do this.”

“But you did.”

“It’s not her fault,” said the changeling.

“It is.” Kim stood up and put the encyclopedia away. “He can’t live away from you. That magical whammy gave him a bad case of separation anxiety. He’s got to stay somewhere nearby, even if it is a little creepy. It’s better than sending him home and having the other changelings…make a more permanent solution to his problem.”

That brought Petunia down to ground level. “They wouldn’t actually kill him, right?”

The changeling nodded.

“There’s no other option that I can see,” continued Kim. “You’re in a unique situation. Even if you have some scientists make a lab rat out of you to figure out what makes you tick, that magical separation anxiety will either kill you or make you escape back to her. So, let’s find you someplace to stay.”

Petunia struck a fierce pose with one hoof pointed at the creature. “I won’t be able to sleep with that..thing creeping around the house.”

“You can wrap me to the board tonight?”

“That’s a little kinky,” said Kim, but Petunia had already galloped out to the garage and was dragging the board back in short order.

“Grab that end,” she muttered through the landscape fabric in her teeth. “Wrap him tight. I don’t think we need the respirator, though. Makes him sound too much like Darth Vader.”

* * *

Petunia liked movie nights. They gave her an interesting view into the minds of humans. Net Ficks was a wonderful door into that fascinating world. Thousands of motion pictures just waiting for a click, and she was determined to get the most out of her monthly fee. Then there were Dee VDs on sale at Growes, which Kim thought was a terribly strange place to sell them, but Petunia told her about Quills and Sofas, and she had to agree it made more sense in context.

“I thought this movie was about quiet lambs?” asked the changeling.

“Shh,” said Petunia. “Anthony Hopkins is amazing.”

10/30/24

Kim had long since given up on popcorn during movie nights, and had even gone into the bathroom to throw up during the centipede movie. The changeling shared some of that general reluctance with the positive attribute of staying generally shut up during dialogue scenes when the handsome Mister Hopkins was speaking with that smooth voice that brought shivers up her spine.

“Do humans actually eat each other?” asked the changeling with a sense of restrained panic.

“Only in movies and isolated tribes,” said Petunia. “They eat horses in the southern part of this continent.”

The changeling shuddered and returned to silence. Well, for about ten or twenty minutes.

“Queen Chrysalis would have immediately killed anybody that dangerous in the hive. She didn’t like competition.”

“Ponies make sense. Humans have this weird thing about killing each other,” said Petunia. “The rules are baffling. TV and movie rules are weirder. And if somebody’s dog gets killed—” She shuddered and changed subjects. “Don’t you watch movies, changeling?”

“Nice movies,” protested the changeling. “The one about sleeping in Seaddle. The chipmunk movies. The History channel and Hallmark. Muppets. The Price is Right. I mostly kept Nadine company before she went to bed. I really like the caring bears. And please call me Hank.”

That was the end of their conversation until the credits, where Hank abruptly said, “Jodie Foster was in some of the Hallmark movies. She’s very good. What’s a grip?”

“Or a key grip,” said Petunia rapidly. “And best boys should be in Hogwarts. Foley I do know. They make all the noises. And they credit an airplane refueling wing. Don’t they put fuel in the entire airplane?”

Once the movie was over and Petunia was putting the Dee VD back into the case, Hank added, “The Bahahama islands look attractive. Would you like to go there after we m—”

She whirled to glare at him, nearly losing a grip on the Dee VD, only to find the changeling had retracted his head back into the wrapping of landscape fabric much like an embarrassed turtle. After putting the Dee VD back onto the shelf, she watched the inert lump of fabric wrapped around the board for a while before asking, “We don’t have a room we can lock you into for the night. Even a cupboard under the stairs.”

“I’m fine here,” came his voice in return. “It’s like a cocoon back in the hive. I’m not having panic fits any more as long as I know I can see you. I’m sorry.”

She wanted to tell the emotion-sucking bug to kiss her grits, like the waitress on TV, but he would probably take that literally, and the last thing Petunia wanted was to encourage him. It really was not his fault, after all. There were so many different chemical attractants she had mixed up in her frustration over the beetles that had been eating her beloved garden. There was no way she could ever know which one had flipped the chemical switch in his buggie brain, or even if it was potentially lethal. Some insects died after mating with a female, even if she would not bite his head off.

The lock on her bedroom door seemed very flimsy, but she locked it anyway and put a chair against the doorknob before going to sleep, dreaming of Anthony Hopkin’s smooth voice and the beautiful beaches of the Bahamas.

Nadine, the old lady.
Martha - daughter #1
Augusta - Daughter #2

take kei truck over to lady’s house. Talks with her family. Lady is going off to long-term care. Been falling a lot, and the house is being prepped for sale.

Kim

and a bit out of The Monster Under the Bed

After the invasion, a very young child in Canterlot is terrified of the horrible monsters she is surrounded by, and finds a comfortable, familiar place to hide from them. Unfortunately she is discovered, and now has to struggle for survival until her mother can bring her back home….

To the hive.

My Little Monster in the Closet
New Jobs

Changelings had to work very hard and only got to sleep a little bit. Ponies did not seem much like changelings. The big light in the sky they called ‘Sun’ was already shining by the time Dig’s sharp ears heard the other ponies in the small hive moving around.

“Psst!” hissed Dig, giving the little pony on the big puffy bed a poke. “Wake up. Time to work.”

“Work?” The Pepper tunneled deeper into her covers. “No school. Summer.”

“What is—” Dig focused on the strange word “—skool? Or Sun-her?”

Giving one last yawn, the little pony nosed her way out from under the covers and blinked several times. At first, Dig thought she was going to scream like all of the other ponies yesterday. Then the Pepper’s eyes got larger and larger until she gave out a little squeak.

“Changeling?”

It seemed to be the thing to do when meeting, so Dig hesitantly said, “Pony?”

“I meant… I mean you’re a changeling. Daddy said all the changelings got flung away real far.”

She could feel the hesitation from the little pony, like it was both frightened and happy at the same time. “The pink got them.”

“Ooo, the pink.” Pepper clapped her tiny hooves together, but her enthusiasm rapidly waned. “Changelings don’t like the pink? Did you hide in my closet until the pink went away?”

“Yes,” admitted Dig. “Pink is scary. Scarier than mices.”

“I thought all the changelings flying around were scary too,” admitted Pepper in a very small voice.

Dig had not thought of what it was like for the little ponies she had been chasing. If a bunch of big ponies had broken into the hive and chased her around, she would not have liked it much either.

There was the sound of the big ponies outside the room headed in their direction with heavy thuds of big hooves against the floor, and Pepper’s eyes got large again. “Oh, no. If Daddy and his friends find you, they’ll be really angry. They’re guards!”

The other changelings had told Dig about guards. They wore armor and carried pokey sticks like the warriors at the hive. Dig did not want poked. It hurt. Even worse, she could remember the big ponies were going to clean out the ‘closet’ so Dig could not even hide in there. Dust bunnies nested under the ‘bed’ so that was not a good hiding place either.

“Time to get up, Pepper.” The big pony swept into the room far more carefully than any of the changelings at the hive, who were always scurrying as fast as possible. He showed his teeth, but came to an abrupt halt when he saw Dig. “Oh, you didn’t say you had a friend over this morning, Pepper.”

Dig did not say anything, because it had taken all her concentration to turn into a little pegasus pony, and she really did not know what to do next. She flicked her feathered wings once or twice and looked around the room quickly for any escape tunnels she might have missed, but Pepper spoke up before the silence got too uncomfortable.

“Daddy, this is one of my friends. She’s over this morning because… um…”

A practical wave of sympathy and love swept over Dig, and the big pony got an expression all across his face that she had never seen before. “Oh, you poor thing. Were your parents out in the changeling invasion yesterday?”

Queen was always saying the truth was what she said, and Dig was still trying to figure out how to talk without buzzing, so she nodded instead. It seemed the safe thing to not-say, since it was the real truth too.

“Were you frightened?” asked the big pony, kneeling down so he did not seem so large and looming.

“A little,” admitted Dig, and quickly added, “but my mother should be here sometime soon and we’ll go home.”

“Oh, your family was up visiting for the wedding.” The big pony let out a friendly chuckle, far different than Queen’s loud cackling. “You’re taking it really well. Some of my squad were glued down on the street for hours.”

Dig was only a little changeling, so she could not make really sticky spit. She had tried during the invasion, but most of the ponies she spit on just screamed louder and ran faster, particularly the ones with really fancy manes. It did not seem the time to mention that, so Dig nodded instead.

“What about your father?” asked the big pony with a smile. “Is he one of the guards we brought in for the wedding?”

“No.” It was difficult to admit, but Dig continued, “He died before I hatched.”

There was a practical wave of rich sympathy which poured off the big pony like digging into the bottom of a lake, which Dig had done once. The happy expression on his face did not fade away, but practically slid off, replaced by a deep sadness that soaked into every hair and tear she could see welling up in his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry,” said the big pony, but before he could continue, Dig had to speak up.

“Why?” She cocked her head to one side to see if there was something in his face that she was seeing wrong. “You didn’t kill him. He died digging. He liked to dig, like me.”

That confused the big pony, but not the Pepper. “Daddy doesn’t say it, but Mama worries when he is working. Being a guard can be dangerous.”

Dig nodded. “Guards fight monsters. Like bunnies.”

“Right.” The big pony hesitated, then continued, “Some monsters are bigger than others, I suppose. Are you going to be staying with us long?”

“Until my mother comes to take me home,” said Dig as politely as she could. Ponies were supposed to like polite, and from the way the big pony began to smile, that was the right way to talk around them. It was quite unlike the way changelings behaved. Queen called pony polite a bad word for changelings, but maybe changelings should act like changelings around changelings and ponies act like ponies around ponies. Since she was pretending to be a pony now, she should use polite as often as possible.

“Well, I’ll tell the little missus to put another plate at the table.” The big pony patted Dig on the head and left, but Pepper stayed next to her and giggled, at least for a short while.

“This is so fun.” Pepper ran a hoof over Dig’s pony coat. “I didn’t know—” she lowered her voice “—changelings could do that?”

Dig nodded again, then held out a feathered wing. “It’s new. Not very good.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t change again,” said Pepper. She buried her nose into Dig’s transformed feathers and sniffed, then sneezed. “You smell good, like my name. Like peppermint.”

“Peppermint is good?” Dig sniffed her own wing, then sniffed Pepper. “Smells like mother. Family. Every changeling smells different.”

“Like names?” Pepper sniffed her again. “Your home must smell like a giant flower garden.”

Dig sniffed the air. There were all kinds of smells in this pony house, most of which she could not identify. There was no reason not to explore while waiting for her mother.

* * *

After something called ‘breakfast’ with Pepper’s family, filled with all kinds of foods that were not mushrooms, the little pony took Dig out into the ‘yard’ behind their small house. It was just as complicated as breakfast, with all kinds of green grass and a brown tree with green grass on top of it, which she fluttered up to so she could sniff it. Nothing in this place smelled like home, and everything smelled different and good. She even took a nibble from the tree-grass and chewed while thinking of mushrooms. There were a lot of them at home and none here, while there was trees and grass and flowers and bees and breakfast cereal and all kinds of things even though bees did not like being sniffed.

“Ow,” said Dig, staring cross-eyed at her nose.

“Ow,” said Pepper also, and held onto her own nose. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

“We don’t have bees,” said Dig after snorting and sneezing until she was absolutely certain the bee was gone.

“How do your flowers get pollomonionated?” asked Pepper.

“We don’t have flowers either.” Dig pawed at her nose, which had begun to swell up. “Where’s Caretaker?”

10/15/24 write spot

“Oh, my foalsitter?” Pepper shrugged. “We don’t normally need a sitter when I’m just out in the yard. Do you want Mama to look at it?”

What Dig wanted was her her mother to look at her nose, and maybe smear some spitup on it to make it feel better. According to her lessons, ponies did not have spitup, which was another reason Queen said they were inferior creatures. Right now, Dig was starting to doubt some of her lessons.

Pepper’s mother was very kind, and although she did not put any spitup on Dig’s nose, she did find a bag of ice, which felt almost as good. Once the swelling went down, Dig returned to the garden with Pepper, although avoiding the bees this time.

“Mommy’s going to the market for a while,” said Pepper’s mommy. “Your friends will be over shortly, and you can play in the yard until Dig’s mother comes by to pick her up. Stalwart already went in to work and gave her name to the rescue ponies, so I’ll bet she’ll be here before I get back. Don’t play with any more bees, dear.”

It was confusing for Dig since she was not a deer. She did not even have a horn in this form, but before she could ask, Pepper’s mommy vanished back inside the house.

“I hope she got Sparkler to foalsit,” said Pepper. She wrestled the lid off the sandbox and sat down in the middle of it. “Do you want to play in the sand until Moose and Skitters show up?”

It did not look like slowsand, and the fact that Pepper was sitting right in the middle of it reinforced that idea. She still poked at the surface before setting one hoof inside, and kept an eye out for any creatures lurking below the surface.

“We have a cover on it because otherwise the cats widdle in it,” explained Pepper.

That made sense. Younger changelings widdled on everything. Scary cats must not have been very smart, even if they were brave enough to eat miceies.

A sandbox turned out to be a lot of fun. Pepper had buckets and scoops so they could shape the sand into all kinds of shapes, although it slumped into heaps if nudged. Dig added a little spit when their buildings collapsed, which helped a lot. She was used to making buildings from the insides. Shaping the outsides was interesting, and the two of them were in the middle of a small pony city by the time Pepper’s pony friends came galloping into the grassy yard.

“Pep!” A small colorful pony raced right up to Pepper and jumped into the sandbox, making bits of sand buildings fly in all directions. “Who’s your friend?”

“Probably some tourist.” A slightly older male pony trudged forward with a bag over his back, stopping just short of the scattered sand. “Father went into the theatre today. You would have thought an army of monsters could make him stay home for a day or two. Nopony will want to attend a play tonight.”

“Somebody has to buy you more books, Skitters.” Pepper stood up and shook some sand off. “This is Open Skit. His father works as an actor.”

“What’s an actor?” asked Dig. She had not really thought about exposing her relative ignorance to possible enemies, but the others had not seemed very dangerous, particularly the bouncy one.

“My father is only the most famous thespian in the whole city,” said Skitters in much the same tone of superiority that Queen used when she was speaking. “Eight shows a week.”

That really was not an answer. Perhaps a thespian was another kind of big important pony, like Queen.

“He’s just being a big baby,” pronounced the pony who was still bouncing around the sandbox. “You should have seen him run around when the changelings were attacking. Help me! Help me!”

It made Dig take another look. Open Skit did seem a little familiar. “Didn’t you hide under a wagon when you were being chased? A big red one, with orange circles painted on it.”

“No!” Skit glared at the other pony. “Pudding was just being Pudding.”

“I’m kinda sure,” said Dig. “All I could really see was your tail. It looked like you were digging.”

Skit tucked his tail between his hind legs. “You can’t have seen me! There was nopony else in the alley!”

“Unless she was the changeling chasing you,” said Pudding, who stopped bouncing in mid-bounce. “Are you a changeling? Did you really chase Skitters around like a chicken?” Pudding lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “Does Flora know?”

“Flora?” asked Dig.

“My mommy,” said Pepper. “No, she doesn’t know, Pepper. Don’t you dare tattle on me!”

“She doesn’t look like a changeling.” Skit reached out with one hoof and gave her a tentative poke. “Doesn’t really feel like one.”

“I didn’t hit you,” said Dig. “How can you know what we feel like?”

“Ah-HA!” Skit posed dramatically, pointing his hoof. “The lady hath betrayed her base nature! Avaunt, foul fiend! Avaunt!”

“I’m not a vaunt! Really!” Dig really did not know what to do, so she looked at Pepper. That really did not help, because her first friend ever was giggling at them right along with Pudding.

“Oh, that’s good,” said Skit, who seemed to stop for a moment in order to blink. “Wait a minute.”

“That’s so cool, Pep! Your dad got you a changeling!” Pudding gave Pepper a hug. “Does she do any tricks?”

“I can dig,” said Dig for the lack of anything else more sensible.

“Wait a minute, guys. She really is a changeling?” Open Skit clutched one hoof across his chest, staggered a few times, and dropped like a sack of mushrooms. He did not seem to be dead since he was still breathing, but the suddenness of the action confused Dig.

“He’s a drama queen,” said Pudding, who promptly bounced out of the sandbox and over to Dig, putting a sandy nose almost up against hers. “So you’re really a changeling? That’s so cool.”

* * *

Ponies had a magical potion called ‘lemonade’ which Sitter — not Caretaker — administered when the four of them got back inside the aboveground cave. She seemed worried about Skitter, got him comfortable on a soft squishy thing called a ‘couch’ and put a cool cloth on his horn.

Once Sitter was out of the room, Open Skit opened one eye, looked at Dig, and whispered, “Really? You’re a changeling?”

Dig nodded. It was more than a little weird that Skitter ran away from her when she was not disguised, but even stranger, she could taste an overwhelming wave of eager anticipation from the young pony grub instead of fear.

“That’s so cool,” he whispered while Pepper and Pudding rolled their eyes. “Can you teach me?”

Dig had been confused. Now she was double-confused. It was not cold in the room, and ponies could not change like Dig. Unless…

“Are you a changeling too?” she asked.

“I… uh… Huh.” Skitter sat up on the cushy couch and put the damp cloth on top of his horn. “How could I tell?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Dig. “I’ve always been a changeling. Can you spit?”

Spit was very important to a changeling’s work. A digger who could not spit made poor tunnels. Dig was a very good spitter.

“Spitting is easy,” declared Skitter. He took the cold cloth off his horn and spit into it. “See?”

Dig inspected the spit, then gave it a cautious poke. “It’s not very good spit.”

“Spit is spit.” Pudding hacked somewhere deep in her throat, then spit a respectable glob onto the wet cloth. “See?”

There was more spit there, but still not changeling spit.

“Ooo, me!” declared Petunia. She took the cloth and spit onto it too, but a very small and damp bit instead.

“That’s not very changeling spit,” said Dig. “Good spit is sticky for sticky spots, or clear for smooth solid forms. Oh, and slicky spit. That’s hard.”

“Tricky slicky spit?” asked Pudding. “Now, I gotta see this.”

The hive always had been a place where Dig had to strain for every drop of love, sip from tiny drips, and be very careful how much she used in digging.

She forgot until now.

“Eww!” declared Petunia at the top of her lungs, holding the dripping cloth away from her. “You sneezed a bucket of boogers. It’s all over the floor!”

“What was that?” asked Sitter, galloping in their direction from somewhere in the house. “Are you kids all right?”

“Oh, no!” said Pudding, who had taken the cloth and looked as if she wanted to hide it somewhere. “We can’t let Sparkler see this!”

Skitters said nothing, because he had fallen backwards across the couch with one foreleg over his eyes. It seemed to be a habit of his.

Dig wanted to dig a hole and hide, but the floor inside the pony cave was too hard, and Sitter was running too fast. She came bolting into the room—

Hit the splotch of slicky spit.

—and kept right on going, across the room, through the door, and out into the yard, leaving a fading scream behind in her wake.

It was louder than any scream Dig had gotten out of a pony so far. She was a little proud of it, but…

“She landed in the sandbox,” said Pepper, who was peering out of the window. “Quick, Pudding. Sneak the snot into the washing machine downstairs and help Dig clean up while I go distract her.”

* * *

The pony cave did have an area below the ground, filled with fascinating containers and dusty supports. The ‘washing machine’ turned out to be a metal box that opened up so Pudding and Dig could shove slicky cloths into the hole, and then stuff more as Skitters brought them down. Pudding explained that the cloths were called ‘towels’ and that the box would both wash them with soap, rinse them out, and spin them almost dry.

It was too small for Dig to crawl inside and watch the fascinating process, but Pudding helped her put in some soap powder, with an extra scoop just in case it took more to clean the towels. Then when she scurried upstairs to distract Sitter, Dig put in several more scoops because it was so fascinating the way the powder made little dusty clouds. She kept scooping until Open Skit brought the last towels down to add to the machine. Then he also added a few scoops of powdered soap to the towels before closing the lid and doing something that made the machine start to hiss and thump.

“I don’t normally do laundry at home,” he admitted. “Do you think we put in enough soap?”

Dig shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never washed things before. It’s new.”

“A new performance? You did really good chasing me around yesterday. You weren’t really trying to catch me, where you?”

“That’s what Queen told us to do.” Dig thought for a while, leaning up against the warm, thumping washing machine. “Chasing was fun. Catching… not sure what to do then.”

Skit swept a piece of cloth off the cluttered floor, holding it up against his face so only his eyes were visible. “You could have bit me like a vampire, blah, blah. Like I vant to suck your blood kind of… you don’t know what a vampire is, do you?”

Dig shook her head.

“I’ll teach you!” Open Skit took the bag off his back and pulled out several books. Dig was very excited, because there were almost no books at all in the hive, other than a few ‘Wet Wings and
Soft Caresses’ books that Queen liked to read while lounging on her throne. These were very different. Skitter’s books had colorful pictures with dramatic words, and a cover picture of a scowling Theralump, surrounded by ponies with swords and torches.

“What are these?” asked Dig as Skit pulled out several colorful gemstones and some loose sheets of paper.

“Monsters!” he declared with great vigor. “I’ve been trying to get Pep and Moose into a game of Caverns and Creatures for ages.”

Dig turned her head almost upside-down to read the words, or at least the few that she could understand. “There’s so many creatures.”

There was a clatter from upstairs and Sitter came downstairs in a rush, made only more rushy when she hit a dribble of slicky spit that had dribbled off the towels. The bottom half of the stairs was covered at great speed, and Sitter collided with the two of them in a flurry of loose pages and scattered towels.

Dig was very good at bandaging and taking care of injuries. She had lots of practice. The four of them got Sitter upstairs and onto the couch with considerable effort, and Dig put bandages on everywhere she ‘ouched’ when touched. They used nearly an entire curtain for the bandages.

Then when soap suds began to ooze up from the basement, all their hard work went away. Sitter demanded they go back into the yard again while she dealt with the errant laundry.

“Sparkler’s sure mad,” said Pudding. “I think we’re getting into trouble.”

“She’s not that angry,” said Dig in as reassuring a voice as she could. “She yells because she cares, just like Queen.”

“My mom never yells at me,” said Pepper.

Dig nodded vigorously. “That’s because she cares too. My mom never yells at me too.”

“Wait a minute,” said Skitters. “Yelling and not-yelling mean the same thing?”

“No, of course not,” said Dig. It was a stupid idea and she focused as hard as she could to make the silly pony colt understand. “Queen yelling different than mom yelling. Mom talks nice all the time, but when Queen talks nice—” Dig shuddered “—bad things follow. Yelling is like that.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Kinda. Changeling-sense,” he added with a considerable burst of happiness. “Dad talks about how each kind of pony sees things in the theatre differently than the other. Changelings must be like that too.”

Dig nodded. “Ponies are strange. But fun.”

“You must have all kinds of fun games that we’ve never seen,” said Pudding. “Which one is your favorite?”

“Digging!” declared Dig.

“Digging’s fun,” said Pepper. “I love digging in the sandbox. Except we have to take a bath afterward.”

“No, digging,” said Dig.

Pudding cocked her head to one side so far that one of her dark ears flopped down over an eye. “You mean like digging to plant flowers?”

“No. It’s… I’ll show you.”

Sun was getting close to the horizon by the time Sitter came back out of the house and looked around. She did not appear to be happy, and Dig could feel the waves of irritation from where she was watching. Oddly enough, there was some laughter hiding behind it, leaking out all over as the unicorn looked over what Dig and her friends had done to the back yard.

It had been a very productive time for Dig. She had made a stage for Skitters, a small but fairly stable castle tower for Pudding, and some gardening holes for Pepper, provided she found plants large enough to fit. There was even still some leftover grass space to dig around in tomorrow, if her mother took a little longer to show up than Dig expected.

“Flo’s going to kill me,” said Sitter in a near-whisper, “but I gotta get some pictures first.”

She walked out into the upturned dirt rather carefully, looking up at the dirt tower and the dirt theatre stage but not down enough at her hooves when she crossed the dirt drawbridge and it collapsed.

Dig was discouraged. The structure held the weight of each of her friends quite well, but Sitter was quite a bit larger. She peered down into the chamber and was relieved that the pony had not injured herself, although Sitter appeared stunned.

“You built a room underground,” she murmured half to herself. “I just left you play in the back yard for a few hours.”

“Two rooms,” said Pepper, who had galloped up to look down into the hole next to Dig along with the rest of her new friends. “The other one is for mushroom growing or potato storage. Not sure which.”

“I’m glad we hit granite,” said Skitters. “You could have been hurt if the hole was any deeper.”

“Cave,” declared Pudding. “I wanted to decorate it with stalagamites and stalagabites, but it’s getting dark and we need to go home soon but we can come back tomorrow and finish it up.”

“Lots of rockhard,” said Dig with a sharp nod. “Can’t dig through it much. Need to be older.”

“Flo’s really going to—” Sitter stopped looking around, shut her mouth with a sharp snap, evaluated the four small ponies looking down at her from the edge of the hole, and added, “Bath. Now.”

A real bath with clear water and suds was strange but wonderful. Particularly the suds. Pepper had a big tub, big enough for all four of them at one time, and they all happily chattered away about tomorrow’s adventures. It was such a nice time with splashing and happiness that Dig almost did not worry about her mother. Pudding was a very observant little pony, and caught on to her fidgeting before very much suds had even been knocked out of the tub.

“What’s the matter, Dig?”

“Her mother should have been here by now,” said Skitters. “My mom gets that same look when Father is late getting home from the theatre.”

All three little ponies looked at the bathroom door, listened carefully for Sitter, and put their suds-covered heads together.

“Sleepover?” asked Pudding.

“Excuse,” said Skitters.

“Trauma,” said Pepper. “I’m afraid to sleep alone because the changelings scared me. Not you, Dig. I’m just pretending so my parents will agree.”

“I was afraid,” said Skitters. “Not any more. You’re a cool bug. And my mother was looking for an excuse to have me out of the house so she can snuggle with dad, so I’m good for tonight.”

“My mother will send cookies,” said Pudding. “They’re made with love.”

“Then it’s agreed,” said Pepper.

Pony sleepovers turned out to be more complicated than Dig expected. She really did not have to say anything, but watched as notes were sent, parents convinced, and sleeping bags extracted out of a closet. They looked far more comfortable than pony beds, and Dig tunneled right into one as it was laid out on the floor. It should have been hung on the wall with sticky spit and lined on the inside with sleeping spit, but ponies would probably notice it, and Dig was trying to see what being a little pony was like, so she kept her spit inside.

“Comfy, you little snuggle bug?” asked Pepper’s mother.

Dig poked her head out and nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” Pepper’s mother straightened out the other bags while talking. “Stall put your name into the lost ponies list, so I was really expecting your mother to show up here by now. Are you…sure she’s okay?”

Dig nodded again. The little thread of love in her heart was untouched, unlike when she had lost her father. That had been a terrible time, and Dig did not want to go through that again no matter how nice it was to play with pony nymphs.

“Well, while we’re waiting on her, how about we go to the zoo tomorrow?”

10/31

Boredom was a killer. Nick tried his best not to be bored. Having nothing happen all the time was a soldier’s dream job, but it was also difficult as actual combat. When something happened, it always followed a period of nothing happening, and it was impossible to know exactly when one was going to turn into another. The top of Four-One was an uncomfortable seat, but it made for a beautiful view of the ponies all lined up, waiting for the portal to be opened inside the Bruener seed barn while he waited for something bad to happen.

“Sir, this sucks.”

Nick turned to his new gunner and tapped the earpiece of his CVC helmet before holding up the folded piece of paper he had prepared several hours previously.

Dakota’s mic is live. Everything being broadcast.

“We’re hours past the time the portal was supposed to open. I don’t think anybody is listening to your friend’s internet feed,” said Rodriguez. She kicked her feet inside the hatch where any reporters would not see, but maintained a stoic Army appearance while seated next to Nick.

Before she could continue, Nick said, “There’s eight billion people in the world, and we’re watching the first interdimensional aliens go home. Any archived video or audio is going to be worked over by researchers for decades, so watch what you say.”

“Still sucks.”

“Embrace the suck,” said Harvard from down inside the tank. He was monitoring the radio and a non-regulation iPad. “Got a cousin in the SEALs. You gotta treasure those sucky moments. Looks like all the major newsfeeds have gotten bored too.”

Peering down in the darkness of the tank interior, Nick looked at the three live-feeds of major networks that Harvard had pulled up on his tablet. The reporters had gotten tired of interviewing ponies and had resorted to the age-old game of holding a microphone, looking into the camera, and plumping their resume. He really could not blame them too much. The portal was supposed to have opened up two hours ago, and he was starting to regret that last cup of coffee.

Particularly with a woman in the tank crew, so peeing into a bottle was not a good option.

Apparently, the feeling was shared. Rodriguez shifted uncomfortably and looked in the direction of the Bruener’s house, which had a long line of porta-potties next to it. “Permission to take a brief wizz break, sir?”

“Better not,” said Frey over the intercom. He had fortified his driver’s position with a Polaroid camcorder, which Nick suspected Dakota had paid for in exchange for the footage from a different angle. Dakota had his expensive gear set up on a tripod with a good wide-angle view of the Bruener barn while the photographer had ‘mingled’ with the line of ponies waiting for their turn through the portal, if it ever opened. Nick’s contribution to the ongoing livestream was a wireless microphone courtesy of Stars and Stripes clipped to his own helmet strap and tied into the camera so any misstatements by his crew would be reviewed by four-star generals until Nick was old and grey.

“Corporal Frey, do you mind expanding on that insight for our adoring public?” asked Nick.

“The unicorns are milling around a bit. Looks like they’re…close as I can tell they put their portal spell in reverse. Want to check in with our Equestrian liaison?”

As much as he did not like it, Nick reached up to the side of his helmet and tapped the only Equestrian communication crystal the Guard could free up. The fact that it looked like a crystalline woman’s earring was discouraging, but if everything went well, nobody was ever going to see him sporting the feminine accessory.

“Nick here,” he said firmly. “Specialist Grace, do you have anything to report?”

There was no response, but Nick could see the unicorns moving around inside the barn in the flickering light of green magic, so he touched the radio switch with a sinking sense of suck.

“All Rainbow units, this is Four-One Actual. Radio check and go on full alert. Something’s up in the barn. Sound off.”

“Four-Two actual confirming,” came Corporal Mazer’s voice almost instantly. “Standing by.”

“Four-Three here. Um, confirming,” sounded Lt. Miranda’s voice next, with a long silence until she released the transmit key. The rest of the tanks and MPs rattled through the radio check in short order, and Nick tapped his Equestrian communicator again.

“Specialist Grace, this is Nick. I repeat, do you need—”

“Load sabot!” came Grace’s sharp response.

“Load sabot?” asked Nick. “Are you—”

“LOAD SABOT!” screamed Grace so loud over the communication crystal that everybody in the tank could hear her. “NOW!”

“Load sabot, confirm?” barked Harvard as the iPad went flying and the armored doors to the M1A2 ammunition storage bin thumped open. Nick was only peripherally aware of the action because the Equestrian portal took that moment to rupture open in a flood of waving tentacles, bursting into the open area of the barn and grabbing for everypony inside.

It was terribly surreal, and nothing he had ever exactly trained for, but his related training kicked in and he called out, “Sabot, confirmed. LOAD!”

“LOADING!”

“Gunner, target!” snapped Nick. “Portal. Range, fifty meters. Target the center and hold for my confirmation.”

“Hot damn!” Sgt Rodriquez dropped into her seat and keyed the turret into rotation while Nick tried to make sense of the unsensible.

There were hundreds of tentacles trying to get out of the portal, looking much like a human being trying to get the last chip at the bottom of a Pringles can. They did not seem to be intelligently directed, and the two unicorns who had actually been caught by their blind flailing were being waved up near the top of the building while still firing bursts of blue and green light at the flickering portal. The other unicorns were fighting a fierce retreat, blasting away and dodging the tentacles inside the building much like they had done this before. Outside of the building, a number of the tentacles had knocked loose metal plates of the seed barn and were flailing around amidst the crowd of waiting ponies, who mostly screamed and ran around in circles. Thankfully, none of the human military units had opened fire since there were about the same number of not-targets as targets, but Nick was about to change that.

“Sabot UP!” bellowed Harvard.

“Portal targeted and locked,” called out Rodriquez. “Orders?”

“Grace!” he shouted with one hand on the earring. “Are you clear for us to engage?”

“You can’t be thinking of firing the main gun into that!” shouted Corporal Frey. “How can you keep from hitting any of them?”

"They must have opened their portal into the wrong flipping dimension!" snapped Nick while fumbling inside the ammunition can at his side for the first link of .50 cal ammunition that his practiced reflexes wanted loaded into the commander's M2 Browning right now, now, NOW. "It’s holding the unicorns away from the center, so we have a shot.”

“b]SHOOT! screamed Grace over the communication crystal. “SHOOT NOW”

“FIRE!” snapped Nick.

“ON THE WAY,” shouted Rodrequez redundantly over the crash of the 120mm smoothbore cannon.

They were far enough back from the empty seed storage barn that the expanding gas from the sabot round did not follow the depleted uranium dart through the open metal doors, but merely kicked up a massive cloud of loose grass and dust from the gravel road and surrounding area. Twenty-two pounds of depleted uranium moving at just a little under a mile per second made it seem as if some alien god had drawn an incandescent glowing line from Four-One, across the open section of the farmer's yard, into the barn, and to the center of the glowing portal, with expected consequences.

Chunks and pieces of tentacles went splattering everywhere, and loose metal pieces of the building followed, kiting up into the air like fluttering pieces of razor-sharp confetti. The unicorns who had been opening the portal were thrown around also, although a rapid count of noses and glowing horns allowed Nick a brief breath of thanksgiving that he had not somehow managed to vaporize one of the guards with an unlucky shot, or even clock one of them with a portion of the discarded aluminum sabot 'shoe' that peeled off from the penetrator rod in the first hundred feet or so of travel.

Then the churning mass on the other side of the portal began to thrust groups of new tentacles out into the devastation of the ruined metal building.

“Driver! Advance!” barked Nick into the intercom.

“You want to get closer to that thing? shouted Corporal Frey with a high-pitched squeak to his voice.

“Engage the enemy more closely! Put the nose of the tank into that portal but only the nose, damnit!” added Nick as the tank surged forward. “We’re going to be the cork in the bottle. Load sabot but HOLD until I give the word!”

“SABOT UP!” called out Harvard almost immediately as the gun’s breach closed with a clang, but Nick had another immediate priority.

“Comena to all units. Implement Plan Kaiju. Repeat, Plan Kaiju. Move to secondary firing positions and make sure to coordinate movement with your Equestrian guides. Four-Two, advance to the front of the building and provide covering fire if the portal expands.”

The big M-1 went across the road ditch like a truck hitting a minor pothole, but the bump nearly spilled the steel box of .50 caliber shells he was loading into the commander’s weapon station. He continued to snap orders across the radio as the tank lurched into the green-lit darkness of the seed warehouse with one eye on the way the unicorns were using their magic to keep as far away from the unicorn-squisher as possible despite entrapping tentacles. Frey kept his head out of the hatch as he drove, managing the difficult task of parking part-way into the portal without hitting any Equestrians or clipping either side as the sixty-plus tons of Four-One came to a squishy halt embedded in dripping extradimensional critter chunks, some of which were still flailing..

For a moment, Nick could see straight into the churning hellscape beyond the portal, filled with clusters of tentacles and closed bundles of eyeballs like perverted grapes all adrift in a star-filled expanse that his eyes refused to focus on. He could have been seeing a mile into the other dimension, or a thousand miles, but the surge of tentacles clogging the portal directly ahead of him blotted out the view almost immediately, with the feeling that several of the tentacle-clusters in the distance were heading in his direction entirely too rapidly.

“Permission to fire?” barked Rodriguez.

“Fire!” said Nick while working the charging handle of the M2, and the hellscape of tentacles rippled with the power of another needle of depleted uranium vanishing into one of the approaching nightmarish clusters, exploding with a spray of green ichor that sprayed out into the distance while the muzzle blast knocked the nearby tentacles backward measurably. “Load canister. Pivot left,” he snapped between bursts of .50 caliber tentacle discouragement at where they appeared the most dense.

“CANISTER UP!” snapped Harvard again as the turret pivoted to the left as fast as the whining hydraulics would drive it.

“FIRING!” replied Rodriguez immediately.

The gun slammed back and the smoking disk of the primer base clanged onto the bottom of the turret floor, leaving Nick caught in awe at the way several thousand ball-bearings made instant sushi out of the writhing tentacles directly in front of the muzzle and several hundred meters beyond. However, he was not so absorbed in the damage assessment that he failed to recognize the threat the rest of the sea of alien tentacles represented.

“RELOAD CANISTER! Four rounds rapid. Left to right, target at your convenience.”

Author's Note

Now there was some work on My Little Priestess during this time, and Winning a Dragon, but those stayed in their own documents and are a bit difficult to separate out the bits I wrote in October from the rest.