Showmare Needs Her Nightly Fix
With the setting sun at her sweating back, Trixie galloped down a Ponyville side street.
“Stupid student-teacher conferences. Stupid yapping parents. Thanks a hayload for the unpaid overtime, Starlight!”
Trixie was not an athlete, sucking wind between hoof-falls and complaints to no one. This side of town was deserted, as usual. Only closed shops and condemned houses and other unassuming fronts for the very very active dealings that went on here. But only every thirty moons, and only for ponies in the know. Trixie was not a gambler either, but she’d bet all the Bits in her cape pocket that the School of Friendship administrators were NOT ponies in the know.
Or, Trixie winced with worry as she rounded a corner, maybe they all were in the know and had conferences today on purpose. Trixie had spent hours after her planned punchout squirming at her desk, listening to two adult Changelings drone on and on about how grateful they were to Trixie for her role in overthrowing Chrysalis. Praise that Trixie would have normally demanded more of, but every minute there was a minute not shopping here. Had Starlight put them up to it? Tasked them to make Trixie’s last meeting of the day to go as long as possible, past her meeting with a merchant who wouldn’t be here again until at least Winter Wrap-Up?
Trixie couldn’t exactly accuse, or else she’d out herself as a buyer of contraband. So she’d stayed sitting. Nodding. Trying to keep her fretful leg from bouncing. When goodbyes were finally offered, the only one more relieved than Trixie was Ocellus. She’d spent the whole session ignored and fidgeting astride her excitable parents.
Trixie’s hooves scuffed the pavement as she slid to a stop in the middle of the dilapidated district. All around were boarded-up buildings. Some were tagged with foal-height graffiti reading “Babz roolz” or “DT calls dibs on this tenement when it goes up for auction”. One streetside shack had a candle in the window. The smoking wick was burning low, but not yet snuffed.
The Equestrian Black Market was still open. Trixie had made it.
“Praise Celestia.” Trixie was too winded to notice or care about the irony of thanking the crown for this chance to buy illegal goods. She steadied herself on the steps, heart rate settling down to normal. The Black Market certainly broke royal trade rules, but it had rules of its own. One of them was speaking quietly and clearly when asked what you wanted. To do this, Trixie needed to catch her breath. The other rule was to don a disguise before entering. To do that, Trixie pulled out her coinpurse to get at the only other item she’d brought: a tiny corked test tube, commonly stocked pony alchemists. Sloshing inside however, were droplets of a bright green fluid not common at all: Changeling venom. Trixie gave the concoction a shake. When it began glowing, she scrunched her eyes shut to concentrate on what form to take.
On Trixie’s last trip to the Black Market, she’d had the cheeky idea to guise as Twilight Sparkle. That was her first time entering from the Ponyville portal, so why not put on a show for the other attendees? Yes, here comes the Element of Friendship herself to buy some very specific, humiliating contraband. Paper bags instead of plastic, please. The environmental lobby was always pestering her to implement their policy, after all. To Trixie’s credit, Fakelight Sparkle got plenty of snickers from other, more anonymous customers. To Trixie’s debit, the scowling seller charged her double, caustically inisisting “I’m sure your royal coffers can afford it, Princess.”
Message received: Don’t guise as someone who actually exists.
And so, today there was no Twilight Sparkle on the steps of the Ponyville Black Market. Just an unfamiliar hinny in a familiar hat and cape. After pulling the clothes off and stashing them in a nearby drainpipe, the hinny was nondescript as could be. She was, however, frowning at an empty test tube in her hoof. Trixie made a mental note to refill at the Changeling venom dispensary before leaving. It’d be expensive, since every customer needed it and supply was limited. But the alternative was not having a Black Market-approved disguise. Never being allowed in again. No longer being able to buy-
The candle in the window sputtered.
Trixie brayed like the donkey she’d halfway become, hurrying up the stairs. Her hoof pushed the darkened glass door, which brightened when it detected changeling magic. It swung open as Trixie shimmered out of existence, then shut. The Ponyville backstreets deserted once more. No movement outside and certainly none inside save the candle in the window, mere minutes away from guttering out.
First was the brightness, then the hushed chatter of hagglers. Outsiders were always surprised that the Black Market was an actual market. It had stalls, carts, and signs proudly advertising whatever shady goods the vendor had in stock. The most noticeable difference was its location. Lit by mounted lanterns and surrounded by chalky gray rock faces, the entire gathering appeared inside some big cavern. Except, caverns had entrances. Tunnels in and out to the surface. The surface here had no atmosphere, only craters and a lovely view of the planet below. Not that Trixie had ever seen for herself, since the Black Market was completely enclosed. The only access was through portals that sporadically opened up, rectangular as the enchanted candlelit doors linked there. Trixie’s portal had dumped her out near a Breezie selling tiny flowers from their home dimension, arranged in bouquets no larger than postage stamps.
“Aetherblooms,” the Breezie was explaining to a customer. “Lighter than… how you ponies say… lighter than air?” (It was true, as the tiny buoyant bouquets were tethered to the cart like party balloons.) “Not so tasty, but makes the eater float too!”
“Six- no, seven bushels!” The customer was digging in her purse, excitement palpable even through her own disguise as a diamond dog puppy.
“Very fine, yes. Seven bouquets. But know that Aetherbloom is banned for strong reasons. Much danger for a floated pony if they have no wings to steer.”
The puppy flinched. “How did… uh, I mean… why would you think I’m a pony?”
An impish laugh from the Breezie. “No doggie has such good posture. I sell you seven no problem, but do hope some hiding at least a tiny pair of wings under there.”
“They’re not THAT tiny! Or, I mean… whatever.” The puppy’s paw withdrew from her Rainbow Dash-patterned purse. “Will ya take seven Bits for seven bushels? The tutoring lounge doesn’t pay me very much.”
Trixie brushed past the two, her widened muzzle even wider due to a contented smile. For ponies who needed to cheat a tad at life, this place was a judgement free zone.
Trixie remembered her very first trip to the Black Market. She’d been a yearling back in Neigh Orleans, not allowed out after dark, and especially not near the Mean Streets. But that was where her mother escorted her one day, past the docks and to an old telegram box that looked unused. Well, except for the candle burning on its windowsill.
“I need to teach you these things sooner rather than later, Beatrix.” Her mother had stepped her close and pulled out a corked tube of glowy liquid. “This is a special store, different from- stop squirming, you’ll only be a goat for the next few minutes. A special store different from the bargain outlet we get food from.”
Touring the huge cave, the goat with her mom’s voice said some other stuff that Trixie was a bit too distracted to hear. This tiny telegram box had way more creatures and stuff inside than should have been possible. Plus, goat Trixie’s short legs kept stepping on her long beard and that hurt. Really, her only clear memory was what the two of them bought.
“Contraceptives,” goat mom had explained, holding up the box. “You’ll need these when you’re a few moons older, and this is the place to buy them.”
“What do they do?”
“They prevent mistakes.”
“What kind of mistakes?”
Goat mom had given goat Trixie a look. A very long look, up and down.
“Just promise you’ll use the things I didn’t, okay? Now giddyup. Need to buy you a venom tube of your own before we leave.”
Trixie was not here today to buy contraceptives. She’d need a coltfriend to necessitate any of those, and her entire life had been spent single.
“Bitterly single,” rasped a hinnified version of her voice as she trotted.
“Saddled with singularity, searching for some scalp spanglings?”
Trixie sideyed the vendor who’d heard her. A purple, spaced-out Earth Pony with swirling eyes and a propeller beanie on her head. Orbiting around her were identical propeller beanies, which must have been the “scalp spanglings” in question. With flourish, the vendor pulled her hat off, an identical copy impossibly present underneath. “Sustainably sourced,” the oddball offered.
Trixie knew chaos magic when she saw it. Slippery and unpredictable.
“Absolutely not.” Trixie's incident with the Alicorn Amulet had taught her not to buy anymore enchanted apparel. In fact, her incident with the Alicorn Amulet was the reason enchanted apparel could only be sold here now, at significantly higher prices. Best not to brag about that in this crowded clothing section though. Trixie hurried on, partially to avoid any more hawkers but more so to get her purchase done before closing.
“Human World Imports?” the excited hinny asked when she arrived.
“Eh? Oh! Finally, a customer. And right before the day’s over.”
This stall was far away and different from the others, since it wasn’t a stall at all. The table was collapsible metal and plastic (a human import itself), and so was the chair the vendor sat on, coming into view as the items for sale were pushed out of the way. Several small cylinder thingies rolled off the table and onto the ground. Batteries, as Trixie understood them. All human devices seemed to need them, especially the ones for sale here. Like the flashlight (big unwieldy thing less convenient than a glowstone), the Gameboy (a beeping toy that needed fingers to use), some hedge trimmers (why cut stray branches when you could just eat them?) and a Fitbit (some sort of watch that instead of telling time, just repeatedly blinked the message “Searching For Internet Connection.”)
“Why are sales so hard to make around here?” the vendor grumbled.
“Mmm… no clue. Total mystery.” Trixie must not have hidden her sarcasm very well, because her dealer snorted. A normal noise for a pony to vent frustration, but Wallflower Blush was not normally a pony. Her green face was embarrassed red as she covered her flaring nose.
“Wh-what are you buyin’?” the shapeshifted human tried to recover. “If nothing on the table interests you, I got… uh… aspirin in my backpack over there. Ponies haven’t invented that stuff yet, right? I also have a change of clothes, if you want some. God knows you fantasy creatures need some.” Responding to her own reminder, Wallflower adjusted her own sweater and sweatpants.
Truthfully, Trixie did indeed feel underdressed with her hat and cape tucked back in that Ponyville drainpipe.
“Nah," Trixie decided. "Prudery is out of today's budget. Your Great and Powerful frequent shopper is just here for her regular.”
Wallflower rolled her eyes. “Oh. It’s you again. Dunno why I got my hopes up. Your face keeps changing, but I’m pretty sure you’re my only customer. Unless that one annoying Twilight impersonator was someone else.”
“Definitely someone else,” Trixie hastily assured.
“Oh yeah? Weird that she bought the same thing you always do. Anyway, yeah. One sec.”
Wallflower knelt on the floor, clumsy hooves unzipping a backpack down there that didn’t fit over her current shoulders.
“How many did you bring?” Trixie chirped.
“Fifteen, sixteen, sev- twenty three packages. The school vending machine got stocked right before the portal opened. Here you go, junkie. All the peanut butter crackers it had.”
Trixie salivated as she shoveled the treats into a checkout baggie. It was a serious crime to bring anything from the human world to Equestria or vice versa. But in Trixie’s opinion, the worse crime was hoarding the greatest snacks in existence all to one dimension.
“Somewhere far away, my counterpart is sulking at missing out on all these.”
“Probably. I saw her punch the empty machine between classes.”
“Tell that she has excellent taste, but also that I’m not sorry. I only get a shot at these once every thirty moons.”
“I’m not telling her squat. Still regret giving you a free sample all those years ago. Now I'm caught in the middle of you two dragons and your hoards. Actually,” Wallflower squinted at Trixie’s disguise, “for all I know, you really are a dragon under there.”
“Ha! While Trix- I mean, while I’m flattered by the assumption, no. Mayhaps I’ll turn up as a dragon next time though.” Trixie’s bag of booty was draped across her withers. “A pleasure as always, green meanie. Same time, next portal opening?”
“Hold up,” Wallflower on her hinds, swaying with unpracticed posture. “I don’t smuggle junk food inside another dimension’s moon for free.”
“Ah, right.” A hinny’s tail was much more prehensile than a pony’s, and with it Trixie presented her coin purse. She also noted the empty test tube still tucked in her tail tuft.
“Here you are. Between the two of us, it’s hilarious you only take the old world Bits made of solid gold. Those are worth so much less than the new yellow iron ones. It takes twenty to buy a single apple! You’re kinda getting scammed.”
Wallflower regarded Trixie’s bag, stuffed with off-brand crackers she’d rolled nickels to get. Whatever she’d been planning to say, she thought better of it. “Thanks for funding the Canterlot High Gardening Club," she shrugged while pocketing her pay. "See ya thirty moons from now. However long that is on your end.”
“Long,” Trixie asserted. “Stay quick to the draw on those vending machine purchases!”
The hinny hitched up her fetlocks and galloped off. Several stalls she passed were closing up shop, which was bad. The cavern was getting emptier and her test tube wasn’t getting fuller. Why did the human imports have to be so far away from the Changeling Venom dispensary? Trixie was full on sprinting now, noticing a hinny’s legs and lungs were quite energetic compared to a unicorn’s. What she didn’t notice however, was the nearby yarn display snagging her long, windmilling ears. It unspooled in an instant, tripping her trotting and sprawling her flat on the dusty ground.
“My wares!” bleated the indignant sheep. Trixie thrashed a bit where she lay, but only accomplished hogtying herself further with the surprisingly strong yarn.
“Ya break that, ya buy it.” the sheep warned. It was standing over Trixie now, more annoyed than angry. He had a hat and scarf on, but was still shivering slightly due to being shaved bald.
Wool wasn’t fully illegal in regular Equestrian stores. There was however, a cap to how much one store could stock. Fleece was strong (Trixie’d found out the hard way), but also soft, warm, and convenient. Unfairly convenient, actually. Since an entire species grew the best fabric on their backs, laws stayed in place to help pony and yak textiles compete. Sheep with more hair than was legal to sell were a common sight in the cavern.
“I don’t have time for this,” Trixie insisted.
“And I do? The Fillydelphia portal is due to close at any moment. I don’t want to be sucked home with you dragging behind m-”
As if on cue, a rectangular portal opened above the wool stall. Somewhere in a distant abandoned Fillydelphian warehouse, a very important candle had just burned out for the night. The shaved sheep was indeed sucked home, as were several other customers through their own portals. Trixie, mercifully, wasn’t among them. The rapidly retreating yarn just spun her like a yo-yo as it whipped away.
“Ponyville'll be soon,” Trixie mumbled as she staggered back up. She made two dizzy steps before colliding into something new. Another shopper. And as they both hit the ground, Trixie for the second time, a dreadful sound rang out: glass breaking.
“No!” Trixie patted herself down. “Not here, not now!” She had her baggie of crackers, the coin purse on her tail tuft… and her still intact test tube. It wasn’t hers that had broken.
Uh oh. It wasn’t hers that had broken.
“Augh! Look what you did!” Trixie saw the pocket of an overcoat leaking glass shards and expensive green liquid. That was all she saw though, as the wearer was completely concealed in a heavy hood. Odd. Trixie had never seen such a mundane disguise at the market before. Who would bring a tube of Changeling venom to the market but not use it on themselves?
“I only brought three of those and you just broke one,” the faceless thing lamented. “Don’t you know how slow this stuff is to extract?”
“You’re a seller!” Trixie brayed. This was insane luck. Unfathomable luck.
“W-well what of it?” the cloak answered in a clumsy, clearly fake Manehatten accent. Whoever it was inside those folds, they didn’t have the grit and vinegar of a city horse. They sounded more like a kid about to cry.
“Why are you so far from the dispensary?” Trixie challenged. “No complaining of course, but it's almost closing time.”
“It is? And I am?” the cloak shuffled to what might have been standing position. If that’s what it was though, they weren’t very tall. “This… this is my first time here, and I’m kind of lost. Can you help me, Miss Hinny? I’m sorry I got mad about the broken phials. I don’t think I’m cut out for this place and I’m just looking for the exit, but I can’t seem find it anyw-”
“Yah, yahyahyahyah,” Trixie interrupted. She’d spent her whole workday hearing boring life stories from too many strangers. She didn’t need another. “Look, the exit is automatic and it’ll kick us both out real soon.”
“It will?” the cloak had perked up at hearing such good news.
“But before it does, I really really need you to sell me that last tube of yours.”
“Uh…”
“Whaddya mean “Uh”?! You have two left, right? That you’re looking to offload?”
“S-sure, but I don’t know how much I oughta charge you. Like I said, I… I’m brand new at this, and only thought to try it because my paren-”
Nearby, a fresh portal opened, sucking up a stall of performance-enhancing horseshoes.
“Oh wow,” the cloak murmured. “So that’s what you meant by automatic exits.”
“I’ll give you every Bit in my purse,” Trixie pleaded. That horseshoe stand could have been her. Any upcoming second could also be her.
“Really?!” The cloak nearly tripped itself fishing deep in its chemically stained pocket. “Deal! One slightly soiled tube of changeling venom,” they fumbled. Their salespony voice was almost as bad as their Manehatten one. “How much ya got, ma’am?”
“I have…” Trixie squeezed her coin purse and tipped it upside-down.
Nothing fell out. It was empty.
“Wallflower…” Trixie rasped. On the other side of the cavern, a portal opened and then closed for thirty moons. “Wallflower, you greedy green gremlin!!!”
The cloak was already cowering at their first customer’s sudden outburst. It shrank back even further at this wild-eyed hinny clasping its pleading hooves together.
“You’ve got to give me that tube! If I don’t leave with one, I’m locked out forever!”
“Huh? Is that seriously how this place works? Kind of a dumb policy.”
“Trixie’s on her knees here!” Trixie realized too late that she’d outed herself. But the cavern was practically empty, so it wasn’t like her wailing was incriminating. Frantic, she leaned into the exposure.
“I’m Trixie! The unicorn who made changelings play nice with ponies. Or one of them; Starlight did some work too I guess, but that doesn’t matter!”
The cloak hadn’t said anything and it had no face to interpret.
“However easily you got that venom, I’m probably the reason you were able to!" Trixie tossed her bag of crackers down as a last resort barter. "Take whatever I've got, just throw me a bone here! Please, please, please!”
The cloak shakily extended its sleeve just as a rectangular portal opened above Trixie’s head. The unicorn lunged, but instead of grabbing the liquid ticket for guaranteed return, her snout hit wet concrete.
It was raining in Ponyville.
Dirty gray water pooled the street, the consequence of a nearby drainpipe being clogged by a cape and hat. Unmoving as a corpse, Trixie languished face-down in the puddle. She felt her useless coin purse in her re-ponified tail. What she didn’t feel was a refilled test tube. Or her bag of human food.
Sluggishly, defeatedly, The Failed And Humiliated Trixie sat up. No peanut butter crackers tonight. No peanut butter crackers ever again. By the light of a moon beyond her reach, Trixie pulled her soiled clothes from the drainpipe. Water gurgled away, into the sewers, away from the world. Trixie envied such a dignified escape.
“... and that’s why lentils make me sad, I think.” Gallus the griffon was laying on the guidance counselor couch, fingers tented together on his feathered stomach. “We ate lentils whenever there was a famine in Griffonstone. Which was often. So I associate them with bad times.” His beak curled into a satisfied smile. “And having figured that out, I don’t think the School’s community garden makes me uncomfortable anymore. I mean yeah, there are lentil plants there, but in Ponyville life is good. These are good times we’re living in, when we don’t have to resort to subpar food.”
“Speak for yourself,” Trixie grumbled.
“Hm? Sorry, didja say something, Miss Lulamoon?”
Trixie sighed and leaned back in her desk chair. “Nah. And if I did, it was nothing important.”
“Alrighty then,” Gallus hopped down from his perch and stretched. “Thanks as always for the weekly session, ma’am.”
“Uh huh. Sure. Whatever. Not like I have anywhere else to be. I used to, but now I don’t.”
Gallus frowned. “You okay, Miss Lulamoon? You look bluer than I do after a bowl of lentils.”
“Trixie is blue, yes. It’s a good coat color.”
“Was that a weak joke to deflect talking about your feelings, Miss Lulamoon?”
“Ouch. Aren’t I supposed to be the therapist here?”
Gallus shrugged with typical griffon coyness and headed for the hall. “Whatever bad time you’re going through, I’m sure it’ll turn around.”
“It won’t, but I’ll get over it.” Trixie had begun cleaning her desk, so much as lazily shoving papers in the top drawer counted as cleaning. “Oh, and flip the sign to “Closed” on your way out. You were my only session for the day.”
“I was? Huh. I talked to Ocellus this morning and she was looking for you.”
Trixie dropped her papers. “Did… did she say anything else?”
Gallus tapped his chin. “Uh… only that she had something to drop off at the lost and found. But hey, our session last week was all about knowing when to mind your own business, sooooo…” Gallus shut the door and was gone.
Legs shaky, Trixie crossed her office to turn over the Closed sign Gallus had forgotten. Then, she poked her head into the hall.
Empty. Their session had gone long, as usual. The School was thoroughly empty of students and staff. But the lost and found was never locked. Trixie sprinted down the hall towards the dropbox. And sure enough, she found three items sitting tidy at the bottom of the chute: a corked tube of fresh Changeling venom, a shopping bag of peanut butter crackers, and a note.
Dear crying hinny from last night,
I guess yesterday’s parent teacher conferences ruined BOTH our evenings. My mom and dad are nice bugs, but they’re too talkative. And sometimes, I think, too trusting. They came to town with the tubes of their venom, just like I asked. I’d lied and said they were for a homework assignment. Really, I wanted to make some Bits at this market I'd heard so much gossip about. Tuition at this school isn’t cheap, ya know. Besides, it took weeks of spitting into my own tube to fill it up, and I’m still waiting on my body's reserves to come back. I hope I can shapeshift again soon. That cloak was itchy and hot.
I know I’m taking a big risk, giving all your stuff back to you. But you’ve always been so good to me and my friends and you seemed so sad yesterday. I trust you won’t rat me out to Starlight. In fact, I was thinking maybe if you’re up to it we could meet up and go shopping together next time around? I need a veteran to show me tricks of the trade, and I bet you’d appreciate a creature with changeling venom on tap. Like I said though, I’m not fully grown so I can’t make much very quick. Probably only enough to make one trip every thirty moons.
Enjoy your treats, fellow black marketeer. Hope we see each other around. And even if its not our real selves we’ll be seeing, in a way it kinda is. Special selves we don’t show anypony else.
Stay tricksy out there.
- O
Author's Note
All's well that ends well, as far as Trixie is concerned.
Couldn't resist adding a Screwball cameo to this one. Love the little weirdo, even with that ridiculous verbal tick all my stories saddle her with. Best not accept any coupons she offers. To a chaos spawn, "Free Shipping" means giving unsolicited dating advice.
