Not Another Human in Equestria

Chapters

The Line Forms in Back
The Shortest HiE Story Ever
Ed Parker in Equestria
Captain J. T. Kirk Visits Equestria
Becky
Scaling Errors
Celestia Sleeps In Self-Depreciating Parody Chapter
The Even Shorterest Displaced Fic Ever
Scootaloo Finds a Truck in the Everfree Forest and Accidentally Runs Over a Red-Maned Black Coated Alicorn in Front of the Ponyville Hospital

The Line Forms in Back

Marcus leaned back in his chair, and clicked the volume button on the tv controller up. His mom and dad were out for the night, so there was no reason to be quiet. He opened up a bag of Cheetos and cracked a cold Pepsi, then leaned back as the opening music of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic started booming through the surround sound.

As the camera cut through the happy ponies frolicking in Ponyville, Marcus found himself, once again, wishing he was there. It seemed that he thought about the ponies more and more lately, especially since he seemed to be going through a kind of difficult time in his life. He felt a kind of warm, tingly sensation wash through his body as the shot of Twilight Sparkle in her balloon flashed across the screen, and them muttered, “I wish I was in Ponyville right now.”

With a magenta flash, he disappeared from his chair, and a Pepsi fizzed out across the carpet.

~~~

He blinked his eyes at the dazzling sunlight. Just a moment before, he had been in his basement, but now…dare he hope? He tilted his head back, slowly opening his eyes, letting them adjust to the sudden light. All around him was a babble of noise, but he wasn’t going to pay attention to that right now; he wanted to start from the top and work his way down.

The sky was clear, although it had an oddly purple tint which he couldn’t remember from the show. He frowned, and took a deep breath, which was a mistake; it smelled kind of like a locker room. Puzzled he brought his gaze down. Is that Sugarcube Corner? OMG (yes, he thought it just like that), it IS! A blissful expression flittered across his face before he saw the crowd around it.

The streets, the park, the bridge—-in fact, every open space that could be occupied—-was filled with people. Thousands of people. Most of them—-99% of them, in fact--men, mostly by his best guess in their mid twenties. Many of them were wearing We Love Fine brony t-shirts and hoodies.

He looked at the person to his immediate right. “How is this possible?”

The guy shrugged. “Dunno. It wasn’t this crowded this morning.”

~~~

Twilight looked through the protective bubble around Ponyville with her telescope, one of the few items she had been able to remove from the library before it was overrun. These things, these brownies (she was pretty sure that is what Pinkie had called them), had been popping into town at the rate of hundreds per hour; ever since the night before when she had cast a broad-range search spell to locate the Cutie Mark Crusaders who, it turned out, had fallen down the well. After rescuing them, she had filled the well with dirt and then magiced on a cover that couldn’t be removed by anypony less than an alicorn.

Now all her energy was concentrated on the bubble. She had first used the spell against the Cutie Mark Crusaders during their brief foray into being newspaper reporters (and, she thought idly, it was interesting how the CMC often inspired her to learn spells she might not have otherwise). This one kept the so-called brownies in town, so they didn’t wander into the Everfree forest (good riddance), or worse, further into Equestria. The Princesses had been notified, and the guardsponies were on their way. All pegasi had been pulled off weather duty and on patrol duty, because not all of them were appearing in Ponyville, it seemed. Reports of the strange creatures were popping up all over Equestria.

For her part, Celestia was in a panic for the first time she could remember in her life. Even the situation with Nightmare Moon had been something she could understand, at least. This, this was something worse than a parasprite invasion. Twilight’s reports had indicated that these creatures had probably already eaten every food item in town except for hay and flowers, and appeared to have befouled the river. The stench was almost unbearable, especially since there were so many of them crowded into such a small area, and Twilight had reported that their numbers seemed to be increasing exponentially.

On one hoof, Princess Celestia could simply scorch all of Ponyville. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but she could if need be; and if a solution could not be found soon, she would have to. Even though she regretted the taking of life, especially sentient life, if the numbers kept increasing, she would. Already they were likely to consume all of Equestria’s food supply in the first week they were there, and that was only if their number leveled off. If it didn’t—nopony wanted to think about what would happen then.

But they were sentient, Twilight had said. Weird, but sentient. They seemed to be related to Diamond Dogs, and Rarity said they smelled like Diamond Dogs.

“We could do a mass transformation spell, Tia” Princess Luna suggested. “We could turn them into something small, something that would not eat so much, and, if we find a solution to send them back, then we could always transform them back.”

Celestia looked up from the pile of reports that kept appearing in front of her as if by magic. “Do you have the power to perform such a spell?”

Luna lowered her head. “We believe we can. Our specialty is transformation magic, and most of the creatures are in a small spot, making the targeting easier. We would have to turn them into simple creatures, and we are not sure they would retain their sentience.”

Celestia slammed a hoof down on the floor. “Then do it, and without a moment to spare.” She looked up at one of the guardsponies with bloodshot eyes. “When she has finished the transformation spell, burn Ponyville to the ground and replace it with a noxious swamp, and build a new Ponyville ten miles to the northeast. Tell the pegasi to move Cloudsdale upwind of the fire, and let it burn until nothing remains. So I have ordered.”

“So it shall be done,” the guardspony said impassively, and marched off to carry out his orders.

~~~

As the mane six sat on the hillside watching their former town burn, Pinkie Pie started jumping up and down. “I wish we had marshmallows! Then we could make a party out of this!”

Twilight looked at Rarity sadly, watching the treebary burning like a torch. “Are you going to miss your old boutique?”

“Darling, not at all,” Rarity said, with a tear in the corner of her eye. “Just the thought of all those…creatures…pawing through my fabrics, why, it’s too much to bear.” She summoned a charred fainting couch, but thought better of using it. Her eyes brightened. “Besides, these colors are inspiring me! A new clothing line! Yes, let me just get my quill and some parchment. Well, never mind then.” She pouted at the small pile of ash at her hooves. “Hopefully I either remember this in the morning, or, even better, forget it ever happened.” She turned her nose up and began humming softly to herself.

“Oh dear,” Fluttershy whispered softly. “There are ever so many new frogs to count now.” She looked over at Rainbow Dash. “Um, could you stop kicking them? That is, if you don’t mind.”

The Shortest HiE Story Ever

Stan made a final adjustment to his sciency MacGuffin, twisting knobs until two totally unnecessary analog dials centered, then pushed the obligatory big red button. With a loud pop and a little theatrical smoke, he vanished, leaving behind only the strangely tantalizing smell of sandalwood.

A fraction of a second later, with a similar pop, Stan found himself standing in the center of a small, medieval-looking town, filled with colorful ponies. That’s right, he’d scienced himself to Equestria; Ponyville specifically.

He looked down at himself, suddenly feeling a brisk breeze against his skin, and was slightly horrified to realize that his magical device had failed to transport his clothes with him. However, he took consolation in the fact that nobody (nopony) wore clothes in Ponyville, and if he got uncomfortable, he could just ask Rarity to make him a set of clothes. Why, she would no doubt be so grateful at the opportunity, she’d just give them to him!

He started walking towards the Carousal Boutique, when he spotted a seafoam green unicorn and a cream-colored…ok, Lyra and BonBon. BonBon didn’t notice him right away, but Lyra’s eyes widened, and she shouted “Aaugh! A human!”

Just behind Stan, he heard what was unmistakably Spike’s voice shout: “What if it’s a changeling disguised as a human!”

Stan turned, just in time to see a magenta flare from Twilight’s horn, then nothing.

~~~

Dear Princess Celestia:
Today I learned that, owing to their complete lack of innate magic, humans are surprisingly intolerant of magical effects. Fortunately, nopony was injured in the incident, and when the grass grows back over the scorched spot near the Carousal Boutique, I suspect that nopony will be discussing this event any more.

I am also including a sketch of what it looked like, and the remains of some sort of device it was holding, which I suspect is damaged beyond all repair.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle.

Ed Parker in Equestria

I woke up to the feeling of moist dirt on the side of my face, which came as perhaps less of a surprise than it should have. I had been at a frat party until the wee hours of the night, and it wasn’t the first time I had decided I could make it home on my own, and it wasn’t the first time I hadn’t.

Head pounding, I slowly sat up. It felt that a quick move would make my head fall off, and I just didn’t feel like risking it. I was thankful that it was still dark, because I think that the bright sun on my face would have been just too much to face.

I must be in Memorial Park, I decided. It was about halfway between the frat and my apartment. Thank heavens it wasn’t the cemetery; the time I’d woken up there had been a little…surreal.

It seemed odd that I couldn’t hear traffic, but maybe it was too early for traffic. Still, the silence seemed a little unnatural. Plus, I didn’t remember that Memorial Park was quite so…wooded. Maybe it was just the fact that I was still half-drunk. This was probably just a little copse of trees in the daytime.

I heard crackling in the brush off to my side, and looked over that way. It took a second for my eyes to adjust, but what was looking back at me seemed to be a lion.

Now, I’d never heard of lions in Ohio. Maybe mountain lions, but not the big-maned African looking lions, and it was undoubtedly a side effect of too much tequila. Nevertheless, I did what thousands and thousands of years of primitive instinct suggested that I should do, and ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction. A loud roar—which sounded very leonine—just added a little more speed. If there’s an Olympic sprinting-from-a-predator-through-a-dark-unfamiliar-woods event, I think I might have had a lock on the gold.

A rational part of my brain informed me that lions hunt on the open savanna, not in forests, to which the primitive part asked if the rational part wanted to stop and tell the lion that, which pretty much shut up rationality for the rest of my record-breaking sprint.

I cleared the bulk of the trees and found myself in a clearing of some sort. Some distance ahead, I saw houses with lights, and that seemed to be a good thing to run towards. Lions don’t like houses with people in them, I hoped.

I turned around to see how far ahead I was, which wasn’t far enough, especially since the lion was cheating by flying. I don’t remember Animal Planet ever mentioning they could do that, which seemed like quite an omission on their part. I looked forward to see how close I was to the houses, instead seeing the trunk of a tree about a millisecond before I crashed into it. Dumb tree. Then I blacked out.

~~~

I woke to bright sunlight shining on my face. I felt wonderful, in the best shape of my life. I took a deep breath of the air, and it was the purest, most wonderful air I had ever breathed. It was like those air fresheners that call themselves ‘summer wind’ or somesuch, but this was the real deal. If this could be bottled, it would be worth a fortune, I was sure of that.

The grass was really comfortable, too. It was almost unrealistically green. There were no imperfections in any of the blades of grass, and each one was exactly the same size. It didn’t look like it was mowed, either. I’d spent enough time on lawns to have a good feel for grass. Grass was my bro.

The ground wasn’t lumpy, either. It was kind of springy, loamy, and it smelled like—well, it smelled like dirt, but the nice kind of dirt you’d put in a flowerpot, not the kind that ground is usually made of.

I might have stayed there forever—well, not literally forever, but for a while, anyway—but a shadow came across my face. I was just thinking about how wonderful it was that I was on this marvelous lawn, which, I had decided, was probably at some fancy golf club—no one else took lawns that seriously—and remarking on the fact that I didn’t feel hungry or hung-over.

I assumed that it was Officer Friendly, to come and tell me to get off the lawn before he ran me in, but I took my time turning my head. Imagine my shock when it was a cartoony horse face that looked at me. Brilliant white fur, sky-blue eyes, and a glossy blue and aqua mane.

For a moment, I decided that I had lost my sanity, possibly the first thing that my rational and subconscious had agreed on in a while. Then I suddenly remembered being chased by a flying lion through a woods and a park, and it all clicked.

“I’m in Equestria,” I said, looking her in the eye. “Ha, it’s just like all those bad fanfictions I read.”

“If they were bad fanfictions, why did you read them?” she responded evenly.

On a scale of one to ten of things that ponies say when they first meet a human, with one being “what the heck are you” and ten being “oh no, it’s another human, hide your foals,” this was at least a fifteen. Maybe more.

“Um, I was bored.”

She nodded as if this made perfect sense. I wondered how she knew what fanfictions were, or if she had just guessed from context. It was an avenue I felt deserved exploration, but maybe not quite yet.

I sat up, in preparation for standing up, but stopped when I noticed that my white t-shirt was—well, it was white again. I had a vague recollection of someone puking on it at the frat house (it might have been me), but it was so clean right now that Billy Mays would have happily held it up to show everyone how well Oxy-Clean really works. I was less surprised to see that my pants and shoes were clean, too. For a moment, I thought about checking my boxers, but decided that perhaps I should wait on that until I was alone.

I stood the rest of the way and looked around. Off in the distance, I could see more ponies standing around on the grass, and pegasi flying through the air. Aside from the lack of buildings, it looked pretty much like Equestria should, I thought.

I looked back at the pony, who was looking at me curiously. She shifted her weight on her feet, just like horses on earth do, and I caught a glimpse of her cutie-mark. I was remembering that the fanfiction said it wasn’t polite to stare at cutie marks, so I didn’t, but I did get enough of a glimpse to know it wasn’t one I recognized easily.

I extended my hand. Pretty sure Applejack shook hands—hooves—with Twilight Sparkle in the first episode, so I was probably safe there.

“My name’s Edward Parker,” I said, “Ed to my friends.”

“Denim Blue,” she replied, holding her hoof out so we could shake.

“Are you curious what I am?” I asked, figuring that if I was the one to break the question she’d feel less awkward.

“You’re a human, or a person, I can’t remember which is the right term to use. I haven’t seen one in a while.”

Well, this was interesting new information, something that hadn’t come up in any of the episodes of the show I’d seen. Still, there was that unicorn that one of my buddies said wanted to be human. Lyra.

“How long a while, Denim?”

She shrugged, which is a singularly odd thing for a pony to do, even a talking pony. “I don’t know, a while.” She bent her head down and began to graze at the grass contentedly. I worried a little bit that she didn’t seem very interested in me. The expected reactions, I was pretty sure, were terror, curiosity, and probably something else I couldn’t remember. I was pretty sure disinterest wasn’t one of them, though.

It seemed like she wasn’t going to tell me anything else, so I figured I might as well move on, sort of get a feel for the area. Maybe she was the pony equivalent of a retard.

I walked across the grass for a while, but definitely less time than it had been since Denim Blue had last seen a human (well, technically, it was for the exact same amount of time since Denim Blue had seen a human, but I meant the time before that), until I came to another group of ponies who were grazing together. They looked up at me as I approached, and then went back to their meal, also unconcerned, or so it seemed, at my approach.

When I got closer, though, a bright pink earth pony looked up at me. She had a pink and white mane, and also had blue eyes. Her cutie mark was a snow-covered evergreen with snowflakes or daisies around it. I was betting on snowflakes.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Mittens.” She didn’t offer her hoof, so I didn’t offer my hand.

“Ed,” I replied. We seemed to be on a first-name basis already, or else she only had one name, and I didn’t want to show off by having two.

She kept looking at me like she was expecting me to say something else, so I finally obliged.

“So, what is it you all do around here?”

“We hang out together and do fun things.” She paused, and narrowed her eyes. “Are you new here, or something?”

Another one, a blue Pegasus moved forward and stood close beside Mittens, touching a wing lightly to Mittens’ back. “Ooh, are you new?” The unicorn looked at me closely. “How did you get here?”

Mittens turned at her. “Silver Glow, you know that’s rude to ask.” She looked back at me, expectantly, as if I would answer anyway, even though it was apparently a rude question.

“I don’t know how I got here,” I said.

“Did you see Him?” I could hear the capital letter in the way Silver Glow pronounced it. The other ponies looked at me expectantly; apparently they could listen while eating.

“Um, no, I don’t think I have.”

“Oh.” Mittens looked at me thoughtfully. “Well, I expect you will soon enough. He never lets anypony or anyperson go unmet.” She took a step back and started nibbling at the grass again.

“Why does everyone—I mean everypony—keep grazing instead of talking to me?”

Mittens looked back up, thoughtfully chewing a mouthful of grass. “Maybe because it’s lunchtime, and we’re hungry?”

Well, that seemed like a perfectly reasonable answer.

~~~

I ambled around for the rest of the day, but didn’t get much further. I was clearly marked as an outsider. They weren’t shying away from me, but they weren’t really talking to me, either. Any questions I asked were answered vaguely, if at all. I had not realized before today how many ways there were to tell someone very politely to go away, but they had it down to an art form.

I decided to keep my sanity to just walk around, but it seemed like the plains went on forever. I asked ponies which way to Ponyville, but none of them knew. They couldn’t tell me where Canterlot was either, which seemed kind of odd. They recognized the names—they never acted as if they didn’t—but they either didn’t know where they were, or didn’t want to tell me.

I finally decided to sit down and watch the sunset. All the ponies seemed to have vanished from the plain, although I couldn’t see where they could have gone to—and I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

It was interesting to be able to watch the sunset without it hurting my eyes. I could stare right at the sun. They say Chuck Norris won a staring contest with the sun; I decided I might as well try to be runner-up.

I didn’t hear the alicorn approach me; one moment the sun slipped below the horizon, and I thought, ‘I’ve beat you, sun, take that,’ and I turned my head, and there he was, standing right next to me.

Scratch that. He wasn’t standing next to me, he was looming. He was towering over me. It wasn’t that he was much taller than me, because he wasn’t. If he’d stretched out his neck and tilted his muzzle to the sky, he might have been seven feet tall, and I’m all of six-five. It wasn’t about height, though, it was about presence, and this guy had it. Oh boy, did this guy have it.

I remembered from the show that Celestia and Luna had wavy flowing manes made out of solar winds and night sky, or something like that. Well, this guy’s whole body was made out of solar stuff. He wasn’t transparent, like the Ursas in Boast Busters, but he seemed to be made of space. His body was a black nothingness, spotted with glowing stars and galaxies. His mane and tail were made of the same thing, but they were, unsurprisingly, flowing in the nonexistent wind. I think Princess Cadence got gypped; her mane and tail just hang there.

He didn’t say a word as the sky darkened, and I figured the polite thing to do would be to wait until he spoke. The moon came up, and the sky filled with stars, and it might have been no coincidence that I could have used him as a pony Google Sky. I thought about suggesting it, but figured that if Celestia could banish her sister to the moon for a thousand years, this guy could make that look as benovelent as a five-minute time-out. As it happens, I was right.

He was wearing a grey peytral and tiara inset with oval gems that were a deep purple. I was wracking my brain to think of what gem that could be, before I remembered that this was the wonderful magical land of Equestria, and it could be anything. Probably dug out of the ground as a matched set..

Finally, he looked over at me. “Lulu always loved the night sky,” he said, then fell silent for a few minutes which seemed to pass in a heartbeat.

“I suppose you’re wondering how you got here?”

I waited. As usual, an explanation was not forthcoming, although I strongly suspected that if he wasn’t the pony who got me here—wherever here was—he would know who did. Perhaps it was the serenity of his expression. I’d wondered sometimes why Celestia had such a lack of emotion no matter what, and decided that a few millennia of ruling and raising the bloody sun would take the surprise out of everyday life, but this guy had her beat. If I could master his blank look, I think I could make a fortune in Vegas.

“Well, the last thing I remember was leaving a frat party, and then, boom, here I was.”

“That isn’t the last thing you remember, Edward Parker,” he stated flatly. How did he know my name?

“Well, ok, I was running for my life from a lion—“

“Manticore,” he corrected.

“—and I was running towards a town HOLY CRAP THAT WAS PONYVILLE and then I ran into a tree, and then I was here.”

He nodded. “Where do you suppose here is?”

I shrugged. “How the heck should I know? It isn’t Akron, I’ll tell you that much.”

“An endless plain, with perfect weather all the time.”

I shrugged. “Is it the fantastically magical prairie? You’ve gotta help me out here, I’ve never seen a map of Equestria.”

He chuckled, which alarmed me. “Nowdays, it usually goes by the Summer Lands.”

I looked at him blankly.

“How thick are you humans, anyways?” He sighed. “Very well, I’ll give you a bit of information you clearly haven’t figured out yet. Edward Parker, you are dead.”

“So, this is…” I was wondering, even as I spoke, if this was how a contestant felt on final Jeopardy when he’d wagered every cent he had, “heaven?”

“For ponies.” He looked at me thoughtfully, and I was pretty sure he could read minds. “Were you expecting the pegasi to have little harps? Or maybe I could give wings to the earth ponies and the unicorns and the zebras?”

“But why am I here?”

He gave me the look a parent gives a child after the fiftieth explanation of the same thing.

“Oh, right. I died.” I looked around, and then looked at him. “So…in a nutshell...I somehow got transported to Equestria, got killed by a lion—“

“Manticore.”

“—and now I’m in pony heaven.”

His lack of an answer was all the answer I needed.

A while later

I looked over at the familiar purple unicorn. She looked the same as I remembered on the show. I wished I could get a handle on how long I’d been here, but the days were all the same. I had discovered on my second day that I had been accepted into the herd, and there was no lack of things to take up my time. Occasionally, I’d seen a pony I recognized, but there were few new arrivals.

She had come yesterday. I had learned how to know if there was a new arrival, and had found myself unable to answer any significant questions that new arrivals had asked, at least not before they had seen Him. I don’t know how I knew, but I just did. I assumed it was the ambient magic of the place, or something. I guess it was to give the new arrivals time to get accustomed, or something.

“I’m Edward Parker,” I said in a friendly tone.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said. “Twilight Sparkle.”

“Actually, Twilight, I think we have, once. Sort of.”

She looked at me with that adorable questioning look she had. I was so glad that she hadn’t lost that in…well, however many years it had been.

“Yeah. Do you remember one morning, Fluttershy discovered a strange creature at the edge of the Everfree Forest? One that had been mauled almost beyond recognition—well, if you had known what it was before the mauling—by a manticore? That was me!”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, I always was curious about that! Princess Celestia never gave me a satisfactory answer.”

I put an arm on her back. “Well, come on. I’ll tell you all about it while we walk over and meet the other girls. You’ll be happy to see them again.”

Captain J. T. Kirk Visits Equestria

Captain J. T. Kirk leaned closer to the viewscreen of the Enterprise. “Can you. Up the magnification. Any more, Checkov?”

“Nyet, Captain, that is as far as it goes.”

Kirk scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Get me. Mr. Spock.”

The Vulcan tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m right here, behind you, Captain. It is only logical that I would also want to witness contact with a new species, as I have done so many times in the past.”

“Of course. You are. Mr. Spock.” Captain Kirk waved his arms jerkily at the viewscreen. “Tell. Me, Mr. Spock. What. Do. You see?”

“The dominant race appears to be Equine,” he replied. “The cultural level shows parallels with medieval Europe. I observe that there are Equines capable of flight, similar to the pegasi of Greek myth, as well as what appear to be Unicorns, similar to those of European myth. I note cultivated fields, and orchards, which the Equines appear to be tending, as well as herd animals such as cows and sheep which appear to be tended by the Equines as well. I see a couple of oxen pulling a wagon filled with anvils, for no apparent reasons, and I also see some donkeys.

“The land around the village appears quite varied, with steep mountains and hills, as well as a rather noxious looking swamp. Although it is difficult to tell with the screens set at their current magnification, there is a creature in the swamp which looks as if it might be a hydra, also from Greek myth. Also, there is a forest which an illogical being might describe as being creepy, as it is dank and has ruins in it.”

Kirk nodded. “Yes. That is. What I thought. As well. We should send. An. Away team.”

“Captain, we should observe and report, first. Although it appears peaceful, we have no way of knowing that the inhabitants are peaceful, nor do we know how they would react to a clearly superior race, or humans, for that matter.”

“Of course. Mr. Spock. That is why. I want to send. Ensigns Smith and Jones, and. Ensign Smith 2. To the noxious swamp. While I attempt to make. Contact with that attractive. Red, um, Equine. You, Mr. Spock. Will come with. Us.”

Unseen by Captain Kirk, Spock rolled his eyes.

In no time at all, the team was assembled in the transporter room. Captain Kirk gave the usual order: “Scotty, launch us!” and then they were on the surface of the planet, which fortunately had a breathable atmosphere.

Over the sound of distant screams, Kirk turned to Mr. Spock as he faced several wide-eyed ponies. “Go ahead, Mr. Spock. Introduce me. To the pretty. Red. One. I want. To see. If I can. Get Lucky.”

“I think you should know, Captain,” Spock whispered in his ear, “Based on physical structure, that the red Equine is almost certainly a male.”

Kirk looked back at the ponies, whose ears were twitching. “Well. Um. This is awkward. How about the. Brown one?”

“Captain, he has a penis. Also male.”

“I. See.”

“The one with the Steson hat appears to be female,” Spock offered.

Kirk strode forward. “I come. In peace.” He held out his hand.

“Ya know, we do speak yer language,” Applejack said flatly. “An we’ve got pretty good hearin.’”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac seconded.

“Pretty much heard all a that exchange.”

“Ah.” Kirk nodded wisely. “Well, then. No formalities. I guess. How about. It? Want to. Get lucky with. A. Spaceship. Captain?”

Even while clutching himself and groaning in agony, Kirk was still able to gasp out “Beam me to the sick bay, Scotty.”

“You might not appreciate this just now,” Spock said, “but I noticed that the three Equines all managed to turn and buck you simultaneously.”

A/N: I couldn't help myself. Written in half an hour, not proofread or edited in any way whatsoever.

Becky

Becky was drying the dishes when she happened to glance through the kitchen window into the backyard. There, nibbling the fallen seeds under her birdfeeder, was the unicorn, its white coat highlighted by the setting rays of the sun.

She blinked, but it was still there. Birds were making merry with food up at the feeder, unconcerned with the unicorn’s presence. They wouldn’t mind, of course they wouldn’t went through her head, but of course she was imagining it; she just hadn’t been getting enough sleep, that was all. She rubbed her eyes, forgetting for a moment that they were still soapy, but the stinging pain seemed to show that she was still awake, at least.

But the unicorn was gone. Her movement must have startled it. She thought she saw a flash of its tail through the bushes, but then nothing. As she finished drying the dishes, she kept glancing through the window, hoping it would return, but it did not.

Finally, it was dark outside, and the dishes were done, so she sat on the couch and idly flipped through the channels. Nothing seemed interesting, looking at the guide, so she just selected a channel at random, then flipped up through the channels, hardly pausing as one meaningless show after another passed by.

She heard, just as she was changing channels, someone mention unicorns, and in her haste to flip back, dropped the remote. She scrambled around the floor for a moment, finding it, then punched the channel down button, but nothing happened. Becky let out a moan when she realized the battery cover had come off and the batteries had come out. She saw one on the floor, grabbed it, shoved it in the remote the wrong way, caught her mistake, flipped it around, and then looked for the other, finally getting down on her knees and dragging it, and a large dust-bunny, out from under the couch. As soon as she found her channel, she groaned: it was the home shopping network, and they were advertising a unicorn pendant. Utterly frustrated, she turned off the TV and went to bed two hours early. Sleep did not come easily.

The next morning, as she was getting ready for work, she was not sure that she hadn’t just imagined it. Certainly, she was not going to bring it up at work. People already thought she was a little odd; the last thing she wanted them to think was that she was hallucinating.

The day passed in a blur, and she found as she was driving home that she could not remember a single thing that had happened. Becky discovered that she was in her driveway before her mind had fully registered that she was even home, and she hurried to the kitchen, and rushed to the window without turning on the lights. Even as she was looking out into the unicornless backyard, something in her mind was saying that the unicorn would not appear until dusk.

Sighing, she decided to microwave a frozen dinner, and watch some TV for a couple of hours.

When her dinner was done, she arranged it on a plate so that it looked at least somewhat presentable, grabbed a napkin, and a dishtowel to set the plate on, and took a Diet Coke from the fridge. There was a sitcom on Fox that she liked, so she watched that.

Halfway through the show, she began to feel sleepy, and before she knew it she was sound asleep, half a can of diet Coke slowly going flat on her coffee table.

She work up confused, the light in the living room a garish blend of sunset and TV color. As she was standing, she heard a scientist-y looking man say, “Of course, this phenomenon is nothing new. One only has to look at classical literature to see that these creatures have existed, and been described, for quite some time.”

“So are you suggesting,” the news anchor said, “that these creatures have always been here, and no one has noticed?”

Fascinated, Becky sat back down. “We are encroaching further and further on their habitats,” the scientist responded.

“It is obvious that some encounters with these creatures is a result of settlement—“

“Where is your fossil record?” another man interrupted. “If these creatures have always been here, why do you not have any fossils, or skeletons, or pelts, or something?”

“There are no fossilized hamsters,” the scientist sputtered, “so are you concluding that hamsters do not exist?”

“All I am saying is that this is a massive conspiracy,” the angry man said. “You scientists, with your gene-splicing and genetically enhanced foods are ruining the world for the rest of us.”

“Well there you have it,” the anchor cheerily announced. “Are fairy-tale creatures a creation of the lab, or have they always been here? Stay tuned for an all new—“ Becky shut off the TV.

How could you genetically engineer a unicorn, anyway? She dragged a stool in front of the kitchen sink. The sky was a brilliant reddish-pink, and the unicorn was there again. It would take a mouthful of seeds, then look up and around, then another mouthful. Becky’s heart leapt when it went over to the birdbath and lapped up some of the water, but too soon it was gone.

That night, she brooded. She had never seen a unicorn before, and had, in fact, been lead to believe that they did not exist; however, the fact that there was one in her backyard seemed to suggest that they did actually exist. She did not know anyone who had ever actually seen a unicorn, but she was sure that there were a lot of animals which none of her friends had ever seen. There must be a million different kinds of animals, she thought, and they can’t keep them all in zoos. Plus, maybe unicorns are really hard to keep. She vaguely remembered that they were elusive, and very difficult to actually trap, even if one managed to get close.

She thought, then, of her camera. Should she attempt to take a picture of the unicorn? Or would that somehow cheapen it? Who might she share a photo of such a wondrous creature with? Perhaps it would be better to keep it a secret.

As the months passed, the unicorn went from a curiosity to an obsession for Becky. Each day she checked the newspaper and their on-line service, to see if anyone had mentioned it, but no one else seemed to have seen it; or, if they had, they weren’t talking, either. She checked out every book in the library that mentioned unicorns, and began to buy plants that she thought it might like. Every morning she would make sure that the birdfeeder was full, and the birdbath, too. She was careful to minimize any changes to her backyard, only planting one small plant at a time, and putting away her gas powered lawn mower and using a push reel mower instead.

Occasionally, she caught tidbits of news that seemed odd, but she had never really paid that much attention to the news, anyways, so maybe things like this always happened, although she could not remember there ever being a hippogriff threat in the city, before. One day at work, a couple of the secretaries were gossiping about how someone had apparently set off a bomb in some particle collider—Becky wasn’t really paying attention—but then her ears perked up when the janitor claimed that this was because it was the collider that was causing the strange things to happen.

“Scientists’ll deny it,” he said, “but their damn machine is alterin’ things at a quantum level, and that’s what’s making the weird stuff happen, like the hippogriffs, or that rain of frogs over in England.”

“What do you mean?”

“Girl, ain’t you been payin’ attention? There’s all sorts of weird stuff goin’ on. People’s seein’ all sorts of strange stuff, you know, magical beasts, that kind of thing. I heard that there was a dragon seen, over in China, a fire-breathing dragon.”

“Unicorns have always existed,” she said without really meaning to. Then she stormed off to her office, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass, leaving a bemused janitor scratching his head.

That night, the unicorn did not appear. All day long she worried about it, and was slightly disturbed to notice when she was about to leave work that she had filled half a legal pad with little interlinked squashed-oval shapes, and her computer was showing the beginning of a letter: “Mr. Dupree: regarding” and a cursor flashing accusingly. She logged off, stuffed the legal pad in her briefcase, and hurriedly left. Maybe no one would notice that she had done nothing all day long.

It was not there again. The next morning, Becky called in sick. She walked around the backyard, looking for traces, but of course the unicorn had left none. Did I imagine it? I can’t have! It’s been a year, almost; I’ve seen it in the snow, I’ve seen it nose through the fallen leaves, I’ve seen it. . . .

It’s been killed! Someone killed it!

No, who would have killed a unicorn? But a dragon was seen in China, and a hippogriff in the city—I bet a hippogriff could eat a unicorn

Why would it? I bet a corgi is easier to catch, and ....

She went back into the house. There was no unicorn. There never was a unicorn. She was mad. Someone would have seen it, if there had been a unicorn, someone would have written to the newspaper. There was no unicorn.

Sobbing, Becky ran out into the backyard and knocked over the birdfeeder, sending seeds flying every which way. She pounded her fists against the pole until they hurt, then slid to the soft grass. She curled into the fetal position and rocked back and forth until she could cry no more.

How long she lay there she did not know, but suddenly she was conscious of something looming over her. She rolled over slowly, her back aching from the unfamiliar resting place, and there was the unicorn, sniffing her. She was afraid to move, afraid that anything she did might scare it off. Afraid to even breath. But she had to breathe.

Unexpectedly, the unicorn spoke. Instinctively, she knew that the voice was in her head, but that did not alarm her, it seemed perfectly natural.

--You came. I was hoping that you would.

“All this time you were waiting for me?”

--Yes.

“I was waiting for you!”

--I know.

“I could’ve . . . “

--I could not enter your home.

“But . . . I thought I would scare you off.”

The unicorn seemed to smile at that.

--There is little enough time. Will you come with me?

“Can I come back?”

--I think you already know the answer.

Becky looked at the unicorn, then looked at her house, her car, thought about her job, thought about her co-workers, thought about everything she had worked so hard for, all the comforts she had and then followed the unicorn into the woods.

Author's Note

The Unicorn
Admiral Biscuit

Scaling Errors

From the mission log of Jonathan Anderson

Day 1

I have decided to call this a mission log, because that sounds more official than a diary, but in reality, I suppose either term would work. I expect that this mission log will be fairly short, since the interdimensional transporter is currently set up with a “cast and recall” feature, as we have called it, which simply means that it recovers whatever it has sent within a day or so.

The technical details can, of course, be found on Earth, and I won’t go into them here, except to say that excitement had been building that we were on the right track for the last year or so, and the first caged monkey that we got back alive and seemingly unharmed physically or intellectually was the morale boost we needed to make me the first interdimensional passenger.

I have come well-prepared, with a backpack full of supplies for a week’s survival no matter what the circumstances: there seems to be a little variance in the time an object is out for, we have discovered, and there are no theories on why that is. Regardless, I intend to spend my time simply observing. Nevertheless, I have brought some gifts that the locals should appreciate, if I happen to make contact. I have no weapons of any sort. You can imagine how much that was discussed. It was decided that it would be best, if we planned on further excursions, that there be no opportunity for the traveler to cause any sort of injury to the locals, and disallowing weapons will suggest that we are peaceful. I should also state for the record, that I am 75 years old, in somewhat poor health, and missing my right arm from the elbow due to an unfortunate matter transmitter accident a few years back. That’s right, I’m expendable and not much of a threat.

I am wearing simple clothes, along with a special hat that has a pair of cameras mounted inside, recording constantly. Mics pick up audio, and there are a few simple gizmos built into the backpack, too. Otherwise, no technology. It is expected that some of my equipment may be strange to the locals, but will not be anything more complicated than they could make, just, perhaps, different than they might have thought of, which could be explained away as cultural differences. Did I mention that the cameras have a self-destruct sequence—nothing complicated, just a capacitor that can fry all the internal circuitry—which can either be activated by a button, or the audio phrase “antiquing,” spoken three times in a row. In 48 hours, if not reset, they will self-destruct, as well.

I stand in a patch of low shrubs outside of the town proper, observing with binoculars the best way to approach without scaring the locals. I have decided to remain here; there will be other missions, and probably the best way to avoid frightening them is to not approach them. They seem oblivious to my presence, as far as I can tell. I estimate I am a few miles from the town proper, and if I lie down, I am barely visible above these shrubs.

Day 2

All day I observed, my reports a continuous transcript on the audio record. So far, no inhabitants have made their way over to where I lay. I wish we had thought to include a shotgun mic; I might have been able to pick up some audio. The weather is getting cloudy, and I am expecting to be recalled at any moment.

Day 3

Apparently, our time estimates were off, or else time passes faster here. No, scratch that, my watch is still accurate, I would think. Quartz crystals should vibrate at the same frequency, regardless, right? Maybe the lab boys could answer that question. I got soaked yesterday, and shivered through the night. I thought about lighting a fire, but it seemed unwise.

Day 4

Audio log is full, and the cameras aren’t recording any more, either. Batteries are dead. Thank goodness we used solid-state storage. I pulled the memory cards, and tucked them in the backpack. I know it’s not protocol, but I’m worried that the capacitators might discharge since I can’t turn the timer off, and I admit I didn’t pay as much attention as I should have to the technical details of the equipment. I would rather not risk it. The sun was out today, so I got dried off.

Day 5

Food supplies are running low. I’m beginning to wonder if the machine malfunctioned. I spent all last night moving around; I was getting stiff. I felt like I was observed, but I never saw any identifiable creatures up close. Maybe it’s just nerves.

Day 6

Much the same. I have come to the conclusion that the machine is probably not going to pull me back anytime in the near future. Some bird(?) came at me today. Couldn’t identify the species. I shooed it off. I think I’m hallucinating; seemed like it tried to breathe fire at me. Are there miniature dragons here? Or full-grown ones?

Day 7

I think I have enough food for another day, if I stretch it. I’m going into town. Machine must be broken.

Well, that was a surprise. My briefing was accurate, and so was the target. The village was occupied by the Equines. Henceforth, I am keeping this log on my person at all times, in case I, or my body, gets recalled. I have the camera’s flash cards in my boots, in the secret compartments you insisted that we have installed. I don’t think these ponies understand the human need for shoes, but should I die I believe they will leave them on my body. If they do not, I apologize.

Just like we suspected, they are sentient. They began gibbering excitedly as I approached, and I held my good hand open to show them I was no threat. I sat down about a half-mile out of town, just so they wouldn’t fear my approach. The briefing had suggested that the blue pegasus with the rainbow mane would be the most likely to approach me first, and at a distance, and I am pleased to say that your psychologists hit that nail right on the head. She flitted up to my face, looked at me with her magenta eyes, then flew back to the others, then back to me, and so on. The lavender unicorn approached next, followed by the orange pony, then the pink one (who seemed to be having seizures or something), then the white unicorn, and finally the pale yellow pegasus. They were clearly communicating with each other excitedly, although it was not in any language I understood.

Incidentally, your language program is worthless. I didn’t get a single recognizable phrase out of all their conversations. Given that, I was concerned about trying out the phrase it believed translated to “I am a traveler who means you no harm,” since it would probably come out as “I want to kill you and all your friends.” Instead, I tried to pantomime that I had no comprehension, and I think they got it. The lavender unicorn seemed to get all excited, and teleported herself away, and then back again a moment later with her little green companion, who seemed woozy from the experience.

I spent most of the day just sitting there, as they explored me. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. As the sun was setting, I took out one of my last MREs and ate it. I also offered them a pony treat. I broke it up and split it between them. They seemed suspicious at first, but the pink one ate it and nothing bad happened to her, so the rest tried it. The blue pegasus kept pantomiming that she wanted more, but I shook my head no. I think she got the message; she eventually flew off. Now they are all gone, except the lavender unicorn. She is watching me write in my log, while writing on her own tiny parchment.

Day 8.

I woke up this morning to discover by her shout of surprise that the lavender one had fallen asleep on my chest. I must be the most interesting thing they have ever seen. About midday, one of their rulers—a white one—came by to look at me (I assume she is in charge, because they all bowed when she arrived). By the look on her face, and the animated conversation between her and the lavender unicorn, I suspect that they have no idea what to make of me. I ate my last MRE and gave them another pony treat. I think tomorrow I am going to leave. It is unfair to them to stay here, although by the look of interest on the lavender one’s face, she will no doubt wish I could stay.

Day 9.

I started heading west this morning. I passed around the shrublands that are near the city, trying as best I can to stay on open ground, where there is little fear of me accidentally damaging something. The lavender one followed me for the first half of the day, but couldn’t keep up with my long stride. I worry about what I’ll eat; I suspect that in a year’s time, they’ll find my bleached bones in the desert I can see beyond the nearby hills and wonder at what kind of creature I was. Perhaps the unicorn will have a theory; it will probably be wrong.

Day 10

Made it to the desert today. I can see a town nearly due west (assuming the sun sets in the west) of me; I’m going to head north of it. I see some sort of creatures which are like buffalo running around; as hungry as I am becoming, I will not attempt to kill one.

Day 11

Discovered that the blue pegasus is following me. She is dragging a cloud along with her, and appears to sleep on it at night. She keeps it high enough I can’t reach her, even if I jump. I have the feeling that she doesn’t really trust me. I am sure she is following because the lavender unicorn said she should. Made it most of the way across the desert; I can see another hilly patch in the distance; maybe even mountains. The clear air is playing tricks with my mind, and my sense of perspective. I’m wracking my mind for what usually comes after that, geologically, and then metaphorically kicking myself, because of course the geological rules that apply on earth probably don’t here.

Day 12

Apparently the white ruler and the lavender unicorn still know where I am, because they teleported themselves near me and conversed excitedly for a while. I kept walking.

Day 13

I am in the hills now, and am very hungry. They are mostly bald of vegetation, come to very abrupt points, and are, in fact, much like miniature mountains. I should have expected nothing less. From a high vantage point, I can see a sea off in the distance. The blue pegasus seems to realize that I haven’t eaten in days. She seems concerned, if hopping about on her hooves on top of her cloud are an indication of concern, anyways.

Day 14

Over the hills and I found a lake. Between filling my canteen and such, I’d say it’s a good foot shallower than it was before, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around it. The pegasus, unexpectedly, presented me with several small fish, about the size of minnows to me. She gave me a look like she expected me to eat them, even eating one herself to demonstrate that they were ok to eat. I’m so hungry, they didn’t help much, but intellectually I know they’re better than nothing at all. I broke off a piece of pony treat for her.

Day 15

I finally reached the bank of the sea or ocean that ends this landmass. I can go no further west. Tomorrow I am headed south, if I can manage. I was too tired to do anything else, I collapsed on the beach. I don’t think the machine works any more. I wish they had chosen someone in better shape for this mission. Or someone better equipped to live off the land. I can see the curvature of the planet from here. I’m not good enough at math to get an accurate estimate of its size from what I’m seeing, but I suspect it’s smaller than our moon, yet the gravity feels no less.

Day 16

I woke this morning to a pile of fish. I suspect the pegasus spent the night gathering them. She was looking at me expectantly when I woke. I took a sip of the water in the ‘ocean’ first thing, and it wasn’t salty. I’m not sure why that would be. Perhaps it’s a geologically recent lake, like the Great Lakes, although earth evidence suggests that if it was, I should be able to see the other side across it, and I can’t. Anyways, I ate the fish and looked around me. There, on the sand, as clear as day, was an arrow pointing south (that is, I should keep the ‘ocean’ on my right shoulder), and the lavender unicorn was watching, although she seemed a bit uneasy as I ate the fish. I wonder if the pegasi require a more energy-dense diet?

Day 18

I walked for almost 36 hours straight (assuming 24 hour day/night cycles; my body clock is so messed up, I’m just not sure). Both the white leader and a physically identical blue leader(?) walked with me for a while, and the lavender unicorn occasionally teleported herself along my path. She was wearing her saddlebags, and was just so cute I thought my heart would melt. Naturally, the rainbow one followed me, too. She has gotten closer, close enough that I could probably reach out and touch her, if I was so inclined, but it seems best to keep a distance. I must appear such a monster to them.

Day 20

They have found me a home on the shores of the ‘ocean.’ I think I will call it the Mare Tranquillitatis, in honor of the lunar seas of my former home. There was cave that was big enough that I could comfortably fit inside, near a fast-moving river that empties into the ‘ocean.’ Near the cave is a large enough boat that I could safely fit inside, as well as a net. There are plenty of fruiting shrubs nearby that I can gather from. It seems that they have selected this place as a home for me. Tears of gratitude are shed; I wish I could express my thoughts to these creatures who seem to care for me even thought I am clearly a monster to them.

Day 40?

I have decided to stop making log entries every day. It seems as if I will be here for the rest of my life; I suppose there are worse fates. All the supplies I have brought from Earth are exhausted, save a few more pages of the log (which was only meant to be supplemental to the audio/visual equipment, hah! Next time make sure you include plenty of paper!), although I have kept a small supply of pony treats, just in case. It seems like there may yet be a special occasion in which to present them. I have gotten pretty good at fishing with a net, although the looseness of my clothing suggests that I am far under my usual caloric intake. Oh well, the doctor said I should lose some weight; wish he could see me now.

Day 100

I have been attempting to teach the lavender unicorn English. She is unable to form the sounds. I assume her vocal cords or whatever she has that passes for them are simply unable to make the proper noises. She is frustrated by this. She can make squeaky noises, and horsey noises, but that’s about it. She has tried spell after spell on herself, and all have been unsuccessful. I think there is simply too much of a biological difference.

I stink. I wash as best as I can in the river, but it isn’t good enough. I miss soap. I miss my Tempurpedic bed. I miss TV.

Day 200? Or thereabouts.

I have taught her to read, somewhat. I remembered that I had a few picture books, after I had finally figured out the business of simple survival, and I showed them to her. She seems to get the concept, and we exchange notes. I am afraid my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and my bifocals were lost in a fishing accident. I cannot read what she has written easily, but she seems to be learning the concept of the language.

Day 365ish

I am given to understand that I have been here for a year of their time. I don’t feel well, but I put on a brave face. The lavender unicorn has written this out in the wet sand on the beach, and it is funny to watch her stomp her hoof in frustration as a large wave wipes out her words, but we are communicating, in a sense, even if it’s scratched in the sand on the beach. When I write a reply in the sand, the blue pegasus reads it to her.

All six of the ones I met initially are here, as well as both the princesses. They threw me a party, as best as I can figure, what passes for a party to them. Now it is late at night, and I suppose I have to be brief, since this is the last page of my journal. It is dark, now, and the princesses have left. The pink one collapsed on the little table she brought, spilling what was left of the punchbowl when she laid her head on it. The other earth pony, the orange-ish one is asleep in my lap. The blue pegasus is on one shoulder, and the lavender unicorn is curled up at my feet. The white unicorn and the pale yellow pegasus are talking behind my head. They are trying to be quiet; I think they can see I’m drifting off to sleep. I wish I knew what they were saying. I am so tired.

Day 465

I have so little space. I think they know my time is almost up. The blue pegasus is staying close, and so is the purple unicorn. I haven’t left the cave for a week. They bring me food, but I don’t feel like eating. I wonder if I should be thinking about how I got here, a stranger in a strange land, so to speak, magical ponies the size of housecats, but I don’t regret a minute of it. If you ever find this log, don’t lament my passing, crack open a beer and sing praises to whomever you desire that the last years of my life were the best. Teaching the unicorn how to write continues. We have made real progress, although she is having trouble with grammar rules. No surprise. As logical as her mind is I think a Latin speaker is a requirement henceforth. The pegasus and unicorn look worried, did I say they haven’t left my side in the last week, ever since the pink one did I don’t know what, it was lost in translation but the unicorn wrote something about pink sense.

Day 470

It feel proper to finish log. I know that perhaps it might go back with body by some kind of unknown? I sorry that I never full know writing but it hard. Not able to speak because of unknown?

Jonathon Anderson stopped(?) two day ago. Princess not know how to fix before, now too later. I miss Jonathon Anderson. He seem nice.

I keep study. Maybe one day I learn more. I not know what his ? does when he stops, so I maked rocks over cave, and writed message on rocks. Sad I could used more time, know him better. Kindest monster Fluttershy sayed. If log go back please we did best even but him as biggest as dragon.

--Twilight Sparkle.

Celestia Sleeps In Self-Depreciating Parody Chapter

Author's Note

This is a parody of Chapter 8: Analysis of my story Celestia Sleeps In. Out of context, it's probably a bit confusing, and I apologize in advance to my readers who stumble upon it without having read CSI. But, it does follow the general theme of stories in this collection, so there.

Celestia Sleeps In Self-Depreciating Parody Chapter

Celestia Sleeps In: Analysis outtakes.
Self-Depreciating Parody Chapter
Admiral Biscuit

It was a dark and non-stormy night. In the Golden Oaks treebrary, Twilight and Luna happily bounced the idiot ball back and forth between themselves, while they made amusing misinterpretations of the materials Lyra had brought back from her first visit to earth.

Lyra, freshly bathed and groomed, walked back into the library, and they bounced the ball to her.

“Have you come to any conclusions?” she asked sarcastically.

“Yes,” Twilight offered. “I can tell that this book is a book for counting. I’ve also determined that the creature in the drawings is obviously a muppet—which is a cartoon character—even though I’ve never seen an actual human before, or a muppet. I am confused about base ten, though. Do you have a useful analogy?”

“It’s like different measuring systems,” Lyra offered, bouncing the ball off her head.

“You’re a musician, why don’t you make a reference to time signatures? And where did the ball go?”

“I tossed it to the author, who apparently forgot about time signatures until after he published—despite having piano lessons since he was big enough to reach the keys, and eleven years in band orchestra, bell choir, jazz band, and marching band. He’s having so much fun with the idiot ball, I don’t think we’re ever going to get it back.”
“Prithee, why doth it need a book for counting?” Luna interrupted.

“Obviously,” Twilight said in her best lecturer’s voice, “it’s a book meant for foals, to help them count.”

The other ponies nodded. This made a lot of sense.

“We hath arranged for other ponies to help thee understand the materials,” Luna said in Ye Olde English. “They will be surprisingly helpful, naming objects which we have never seen, while using the creature’s terms for them—even though we do not share a language. We hath chosen Rarity, for her fashion expertise, Bucky Fuller, who is the best pun the author could come up for an architect’s name that any reader would actually understand, Pinkie Pie to name kitchen implements as a slight bit of comic relief in an otherwise-serious discussion, and Octavia Van Clef as a shameless promotion of Private Gig (by Navy Pony), and because the author secretly has the hots for her.”

“I understand,” the unicorns said in unison.

Dale looked through the book she’d given him. It was titled Your Home in Equus, which he could suddenly read. Based on the static drawings on the page, it was obvious that the ponies had a princess who controlled the sun in their geocentric solar system and another who controlled the moon. He wondered how many other princesses they had.

They also used magic, which explained a lot. He’d been wrong, assuming that they had a spaceship; clearly they just had spells which allowed interplanetary travel. Thus, their level of technology was less than his own.

The next morning:

Luna tossed Twilight out of bed.

Then she returned to Canterlot.

Rarity looked over the drawings in puzzlement. “I can make nothing of these.”

“But you’re the best fashion designer in all of Equestria,” Twilight protested.

“I know. But I don’t know what these creatures look like.” She waved a marshmallow hoof at the book. “How am I to make any sense of these drawings?”

“Oh, that’s easily solved.” Twilight turned to the section on anatomy. “Here’s a drawing of him. The female counterpart is on the next page.”

Rarity pointed a hoof at a page on underwear. “I can clearly identify that this is a brassiere, even though the word for it is in a language I don’t know, and it restrains parts of the female anatomy which we don’t have. Later on, I’ll mistake one for a head covering—it makes sense; your ears can fit in these little cups. . . .” She continued explaining everything in the drawings, including proper names for every type of glove.

“Wow, Rarity, you’ve been really helpful! Thanks!”

“Think nothing of it darling.”

Lyra woke up and heard Bon Bon making breakfast downstairs. Are they secretly—or maybe overtly—lovers? Or are they just roommates? I’m not saying. Draw your own conclusions. But they sure are seen together in a lot of episodes. . . .

Another break with Dale, because the author couldn’t be bothered to come up with something more clever. (He’s apparently still looking for a spaceship, although it should be obvious to him by now that there isn’t one.) Dale took the weapons back to camp. He understood how they were made because he has a freaky knowledge of medieval weaponry, not because he’s a retired machinist with forty years of metalworking experience.

Twilight looked up from the calendar in shock, left eyelid twitching. “It drew in it? Who does that?”

“Books and clean white paper and offset printing and full-color photographs are commonplace in their world,” Lyra explained. “We value books, because we haven’t industrialized yet, but to them, a calendar is just something you buy for $3.99 at Wal-Mart.”

“Oh. Well, I’d hang it on the wall and look at it, if it were mine. Those are very artistic pictures of classic Chevrolet trucks.”

“That’s what the hole’s for.” Lyra unnecessarily explained the punchline of the joke.

“What about the confusing number of days, and divisions of the week?”

“Well, the number of days in the week go back to the Judeo-Christian Bible, which says that God created the heavens and earth in six days and on the seventh day He rested, and that was the first week. They’re named in his language from the German, which replaced the Latin planets with the Norse gods: Sun’s Day, Moon’s Day, Tiw’s Day, Odin’s Day, Thor’s Day—you get the idea. The months, on the other hoof, use the Roman names. It’s interesting to note that they stopped naming them after month six, calling them ‘seventh month,’ ‘eighth month’ and so on, but that doesn’t make sense any more because one of the Caesars shuffled things around so that the numbered months fall late—September is now the ninth month, October the tenth. . . . The number of days is odd, because their planet orbits its sun, not the other way around. To further confound things, it’s a leap year. Normally, there’s only 365 days.”

“Wow, that’s weird.” Twilight looked up at her. “I guess we’ve just skipped about a thousand words of discussion, haven’t we?”

“Pretty much. Let’s drink coffee until the morning train shows up.”

“Ok.”

Luna lay down in bed. She pulled out a loose feather, which is so stilted it’s obviously foreshadowing. Maybe even an example of Chekhov’s gun. She lamented the fact that ponies don’t know much about the night sky (it’s canon), and that everypony will have forgotten that in a few pages—or in this poorly written screed, by the next section break.

Twilight set down her coffee. “Why don’t we discuss the astronomy book?”

“Ok. He seemed to hold it in high regard, since he assumed that we knew all about the universe. He thought we had a spaceship.”

Twilight laughed. “Nope, we usually don’t have electricity in canon, and we certainly haven’t invented mass spectrometry yet, or radio telescopes. Nevertheless, I can say with confidence that these are pictures of the other planets in his solar system, and they all orbit the sun. It—the sun—is made out of plasma. I’m not sure what that is, or even what elements the sun’s made out of, since we as a society clearly don’t have the technology to find out, but I’ll go out on a limb and say it’s hydrogen and helium undergoing a fusion reaction, at a temperature of millions of degrees.”

“That sounds like a song I heard from Pinkie once. How did it go? Ah, yes: ‘The sun is a mass—’ “

“No copyrighted song lyrics!” Twilight glared at Lyra.

“Well, I’m glad Luna’s going to clear this all up in the next chapter when I’m gone,” Lyra said, putting down her pen. “I’d have expected it here.”

“Everypony assumes I know everything and never make mistakes, unless they’re obviously significant to the plot of an episode,” Twilight lamented.

At the train station:

“I’m Bucky Fuller, the architect,” the pegasus said, extending a hoof.

“And I’m Octavia. My characterization is clearly modeled after a consort, or companion from the TV show Firefly—for no apparent reason. Also, I have a quasi-British accent, whatever that is.”

“You’re going to be surprisingly helpful,” Twilight said to Bucky.

“And we’re going to speak Dale’s words,” Lyra told Octavia. “It won’t be a challenge, even though the phonetic sound of the letters has nothing whatsoever to do with the names of the letters. I figured it all out by osmosis while I was sleeping.”

“Well, then, I am not quite sure what I shall do.” Octavia put on a cute little pout.

“In the next chapter, you’re to imply that Twilight got intimate with you,” Lyra explained. “But that’s for later.”

“Oh. Very good, then.”

Twilight opened the book. “Can you describe these buildings?”

“Why, certainly. That’s clearly an igloo, where the Eskimo ponies live. That’s a yurt, where Mongolian ponies live. Notice how I’m using their own words for the buildings, even though our language has no equivalent. The next page gets a little more complicated, since in canon all our structures are medieval-fantasy European in design. However, I can say that’s a vinyl-sided split level ranch house, with double-glazed windows and an attached garage. Here we have a Gothic cathedral, which is where the religious types worship their god. It’s a thing that ponies don’t do at all, but of course I understand it completely. The next page is clearly a hundred-story tall skyscraper, which they use for offices and apartments. Once again, our construction technology is centuries behind theirs—we even still use wooden cranes—but I have no problem staking my professional reputation on a wild guess.”

“Aren’t there skyscrapers in Manehattan?” Twilight asked. “I was just there with Rarity.”

“It’s not the author’s fault when they change what’s canon in a new episode,” Bucky reminded the unicorn. “That’s why he used an AU tag.”

“Wow, you’ve been surprisingly helpful.” Twilight looked down at the pages in awe. “Who would have thought you could figure all that out from drawings in a book that don’t even have a single item to indicate scale, except for the architectural details which are totally unlike our own?”

“I know, right? Ok, I’ve got to go. You’ll probably never meet me again, since I’m an undeveloped OC. Bye!” Bucky made his own way back to the train station.

“We’ve figured out his language,” Octavia announced. “It’s really simple. One day’s worth of observation, and we’ve got it all. Even the tenses just sort of came to us. Irregular verbs, too. Not to mention all the English words which are borrowed from different languages and have counterintuitive pronunciations. Why, whole poems have been written on the subject!” (it’s true; here’s a bunch)

“That was pretty fast.” Twilight finished another missive to the princess. “I’d hoped that section could go on a bit longer. Hopefully, the vet shows up soon.”

“I’m right here,” Dr. Goodall said. “I bet everyone was expecting Fluttershy.”

“No, we told them about you thirty pages ago.”

“Oh.” Her face fell. “Well, I’m ready to lend my expertise. These are a bunch of animals. Since they’re mammals, and we’re mammals, I’ve got no problems describing their anatomy. Of course, I won’t be using the Latin names, since we don’t have that here. Oh, wait, I suddenly learned Latin. We’re good to go.

“Hmm,” she continued, correctly leaving an open quote in the preceding paragraph of dialogue—a punctuation convention apparently unknown to a certain EqD prereader. “This is a picture of a horse. Pretty much the same as the Saddle Arabian horses.”

“I wonder why Dale hasn’t brought a horse?”

“They don’t fit into canoes,” Twilight explained. “Plus, they’re not sapient on his world, so you wouldn’t be able to talk to it.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense. I’ll ask him tomorrow, anyway. It should be amusingly awkward for both of us.”

“I’m sure,” the vet said as she left.

Pinkie Pie bounced happily into the room. In no time at all, she identified all the knives—just the kind of knowledge a homicidal sociopathic (socioponic?) baker of cupcakes would have. She named off a bunch of other stuff, although she had trouble with the electrical appliances. Then she sang and danced a bit, and finally pronked out the door.

“Wow, that ended quickly,” Twilight said.

“I know. It’s easy to jump to conclusions when we have no knowledge whatsoever of what we’re talking about,” Lyra added. “I’m going to bed.”

“So am I,” Octavia said, winking seductively at Twilight. “Will you join me?”

“Not until Princess Luna arrives. She’s going to show us the night sky, if you know what I mean.”

FIN

The Even Shorterest Displaced Fic Ever

The Even Shorterest Displaced Fic Ever
Admiral Biscuit

It's a well-known fact that every now and then, a cosplayer finds him or herself in Equestria, suddenly wielding all the powers that his or her costume entails. Perhaps even more often than is strictly necessary, to be bluntly honest. But everyone knows that Discord is somehow behind it, and Discord works in mysterious ways.

Jared did not know this.

Jared was an average college student in every way. He went to an average college and got average grades, and sometimes he went to parties that weren't really all that fun, but they weren't all that boring, either. And it was a good enough life; one day he would likely become an average accountant and marry an average wife and live in a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and 2.5 children.

Sadly for Jared, none of that came to pass, because on his last Halloween on Earth, Jared rather foolishly wore a poop emoji costume, which he bought from a rather unusual vendor at a kiosk in the shopping mall.

Approximately tau seconds after donning his new costume, Jared suddenly found himself in Equestria, proudly wielding all the powers which a pile of shit has to offer, which is to say none whatsoever.

He did have one brief, shining moment of glory when Daisy stepped on him, looked down to see what was on her hoof, and fainted (and Lily subsequently also fainted out of sympathy). Thereafter, he was scooped off the road by a Ponyville Public Works employee, and six months later, he, along with a wagonload of mundane crap, was sold to a pony called White Cap.

And thus Jared's life ended as fertilizer for a bumper crop of shiitake mushrooms.

Author's Note

I saw this in the new stories box and couldn't resist.

Also, a poop emoji costume is totally available on Amazon.com (and other places, I'm sure).

Scootaloo Finds a Truck in the Everfree Forest and Accidentally Runs Over a Red-Maned Black Coated Alicorn in Front of the Ponyville Hospital

Scootaloo Finds a Truck in the Everfree Forest and Accidentally Runs Over a Red-Maned Black Coated Alicorn in Front of the Ponyville Hospital
Admiral Biscuit
9.1.13

It was a day you’ll never forget. You were walking home, minding your own business. You didn’t really want to go home, since your parents didn’t really understand you, but you had to eat somewhere after all.

You were nodding your head to the edgy beat of the music blaring forth from your iPod, so is it any wonder that you never heard the skidding tires? There was a kind of hollow metallic boom that didn’t quite fit with the beat of the music, and then cold fingers around your neck caused you to turn.

You’re looking at the massive grille of a Peterbilt dump truck. You watch in wonder as it bounces over the curb and shears off a fire hydrant. You try to run, but it’s already too late. Maybe if you make a last-second leap, you can

“Where am I,” you ask to no one in particular. Your body feels really strange, for some reason. You can’t seem to remember exactly where you are, or how you got there. At least the comforting beat of your favorite band is still playing, so there’s that.

Finally, daring to open your eyes—you’d not realized they were closed until just now—you look around you in wonder. You’re in a hospital. Although you don’t know why, that doesn’t really surprise you.

There’s a glass of ice water on the table beside you. Your throat feels so dry. Parched. You reach for the glass, stopping suddenly as your appendage comes into view. No longer an arm, you’ve got leg with a hoof at the end of it. Both your fur and your hoof are a beautiful jet-black color, like a ~~fluffy kitten~~ hellhound.

You can’t help yourself, now. All thoughts of the water flee from your mind. You’ve just got to get a better look at your body. You yank the sheet aside like an artist revealing his masterpiece. And stare in awe.

You’re huge. Also, well-muscled. You’re big enough to make Big Mac green with envy. Or maybe it would be orange; you can’t quite remember your color-mixing tables. Future rock stars don’t need to know that kind of thing, anyway.

Your brilliant red forelock hangs almost to your eyes, and if you cross them and look up just right, you can see the tip of a magnificent horn. The very . . . magnificence of your new body makes you stretch your wings out. Wait, wings?

“Oh cool, I’m an alicorn now,” you say aloud.

You don’t realize you shouted, but you did. Nurse Redheart gallops into the room, looking at you with a mixture of awe and concern.

“How do you feel?” she asks. “We found you outside the hospital. You were lying on the ground unconscious.”

“I feel great,” you reply.

“Oh, that’s good. I’ve got to tell the girls that you’ve woken up. They’re so excited to meet you.”

She leaves, and before long the Mane Six come into the room. They crowd around you. First, Twilight apologizes for having mis-cast a spell which brought you here. She’s already written to the Princess. She presents you with a sack bulging with money, which Celestia has sent to help you out.

Since Redheart said you’ve got to spend the night at the hospital, you regale the girls with tales of your exploits. They’re all fascinated by learning that they’re just a cartoon in your world—Pinkie especially. She turns away from the group and begins to make funny faces at the wall.

You tell Applejack about your difficult time growing up without parents—technically, they’re still alive, but they don’t agree with your ambition to drop out of school and join a rock band, so they’re dead to you.

Fluttershy is nothing but rapt attention as you relive the experience of rescuing a kitten from the bathtub. True, it wasn’t particularly dangerous, but it was a Jacuzzi tub, and—if the jets had been turned on—it would have been essentially the same as a raging river.

Rainbow Dash is awed by your wings and your claim of being a black belt in Brazilian Ju-Jistu. Well, you went to a couple of classes, and that’s pretty much the same thing. They don’t have Ju-Jitsu here, anyway, so you know more than she does. And you can always fake it a little with magic—you’ve already figured out how to drink a glass of water without spilling it all over your body. On the third try. With Twilight’s help.

Naturally, Twilight wants to know everything about your world. Even the most mundane things are fascinating to her. Her eyes sparkle with lust as you explain how the microwave can cook popcorn in under four minutes.

And Rarity. She’s so infatuated with you, she can’t keep her hooves off of you. Her eyes went all dreamy when you mentioned that on your world, you wore clothes all the time, and it’s not long before she’s running a measuring tape over your magnificent new body.

Finally, as the sun sets, you tell the girls that you need some rest. Rather than leave, they manage to all crowd into the hospital bed with you, nuzzling and hugging in a slightly worrying vaguely depraved manner.

The next morning, you come to a decision. You’re willing to share, and they’re all cool with it, too. Twilight explained in her adorkable way that this is how things are done in Equestria. Just the way she says it is enough for your wings to become uncomfortably rigid, but the girls don’t seem to be offended.

As awesome as you are now, you still want to start things off a little more slowly. You want time to get to know each mare, after all. With that thought in mind, you propose a schedule. You’ll spend one night with Fluttershy, one with Rainbow, and so on. That also eliminates the need to worry about finding a place to live.

Your initial plan of setting who’s first by a rousing game of Rock-Paper-Scissors is doomed to failure before it starts. Tic-Tac-Toe is also out; you remember Pinkie has an unfair advantage. Hooves, it seems, aren’t ideal for coin tosses. Finally, you settle on the tried-and-true method of drawing a name from the hat.

You draw Rarity’s name. Already, you can see the lustful glint in her eye. She turns to stick her tongue out at the other five, then follows you out into the street. You remember that she likes a stallion who treats her like a queen, so you graciously hold open doors for her.

You stretch your wings erect while Rarity watches in awe. You feel like you could take on the world. You can’t wait to fly—it’s got to be just as easy as adapting to your suddenly quadrupedal form or using your magic. For a second, you entertain the thought of flying to the Carousel Boutique, but that would be rude to Rarity, and—

You turn just in time to see a 1968 Chevrolet C/10 bearing down on you. As a human, that would have been bad; too late you remember that ponies are even shorter. Scootaloo is behind the wheel; Sweetie Belle and Applebloom have their forehooves up on the dashboard.

Your wings are already unfurled, so you leap into the air in glorious flight . . . but it’s too late. Your flight is largely horizontal as the front bumper and grille of the truck slam you forward, accelerating you in accordance to the harsh laws of physics. Your whole body screams out in pain, and you can feel things shifting inside of you that probably shouldn’t.

You fly for an amazingly long time before crashing back to the hard-packed soil. Sadly, it wasn’t far enough. A shadow looms over you as the truck rolls to a stop with a wheel on your hind legs. Hot antifreeze from the smashed radiator is dribbling down onto your muzzle, and you can’t even move your head to get away from it. You had never realized a body could feel so much pain. You try to scream, but your jaw is broken and you can’t take a breath. You can feel your heart racing, but each beat feels weaker than the last.

There’s a strange tugging sensation, and then nothing.

You open your eyes. You’re standing on a grassy lawn, right on campus.

You’ve never been one to have hallucinations. It’s hard to believe that you were—briefly—in Equestria, though. Something itches under your Hot Topic shirt, and you reach underneath to pull out a broken pitch-black pegasus feather.

You turn around. Right behind you—inches behind you—there’s a dump truck, its nose smashed into the wall of a dorm. Dimly, you can hear people screaming, and water begins to fall on you. That’s from the broken hydrant, you think. Everything is so clear now. Twilight’s spell must have pulled you out of the way of the dump truck. Just enough to save your life. At least you got one memorable day in Equestria. Probably, Twilight will try to summon you back.

Still holding the feather, you look at the dump truck in admiration. Like the feather, it’s kind of a lucky totem. You pat it on its fuel tank.

The truck explodes.

Author's Note

Well, the last chapter was kind of sad, so . . . here's something funny.

I don't regret this.