TCB: A Dog's Life

In the year 2065, Equestrian Scientists discovered remote portals to a new planet called Earth that existed in some other dimension. Contacts to this new land were made first by tribes of Diamond Dogs. Naturally, these interactions led to violence and mass panic inside the new land, and caused the inhabitants, humans, to study our planet as well. After years of research, Equestrian scientists discovered something that the dogs had learned, or at least assumed, long ago: the creatures couldn’t enter our world, but we could enter theirs. Although none know the name of the Diamond Dog who’d discovered this miraculous portal, they all know the first pony to enter it. This is not the story of that pony, nor one of the dogs who had discovered it. This is the story of a criminal, and his big break that came in the form of a mis-mailed letter.

I wondered how that letter ended up in my mailbox, despite the fact I had been living miles away from anypony and everypony. I thought I had made it so I, and my long history—which I would prefer not to describe in detail until later on—would have been lost in this desert. Apparently I had not covered my tracks well enough, as there was a grey mailmare flying into the distance.

I apologize: I don’t write very much, so I’m not sure how to go about this. Let me introduce myself: I am known as Rusty. I am a Diamond Dog who’d been violently removed from my pack for “enslaving” an ambassador from Canterlot. In reality, we all kinda dropped the ball, but somebody had to get the blame, so... yeah.

When I wrote down my first memoir, I was travelling to this place called “Minnesota”—which sounds like something those ponies would drink. I should go back to the letter though; I’m not so good with this writing thing after all. After getting it open and reading it, I learnt that apparently some dope had misspelled the address of somepony and, long story short, I was going to be a part of something called “Academy College”, whatever that is. Don’t get me wrong, it’s stupid, but I had to go because... well, fleas! That’s when I thought about what I was doing. Not before I bought the train ticket, not before I looked it up? It took me all that time, AND a total of three hours on a train to think about that situation.

I arrived at some weird, pony-filled hub, that was packed with those coming and going. I’d have thought they were the dominant species here or something, if I didn’t know better. So, I approached the exit, and a group of guards came from nowhere to try to get me back on the train... with the assistance of stun guns and billy clubs. I’d always enjoyed fighting ponies—any self respecting diamond dog does—but I’d never been struck by a stun gun before. I prepared myself for a fight that I may not have won, but something... odd happened. A thing stepped in, dressed in a fancy suit. I’d heard about these things before from various discussions in the pack, that eventually lead to arguments, and then fist fights. The ponies claimed that they had found these things, things that were like us, but less hairy and strong, but none of the pack honestly believed them. I was distracted by the thing walking past and became lost in thought.

As I've said before, I’d never been struck by a stun gun. So, naturally, when one of the cowards hit me from behind, I didn’t expect it. There I was, convulsing on the ground, expecting to be beaten and tossed back in the train—which didn’t happen. Something else happened: I was instead dragged into this other thing. It’s kinda hard to explain. It’s like a mine cart, but nothing’s pushing or pulling it, and it’s got doors. They tossed me in the back (well, not literally, but I’m getting off topic) and drove me to this weird, brown place. Y’know those cells we have? Yeah, they’re sorta like that. They stole my stuff and locked me in there with more of those hairless creatures.

“And that’s how I got here. Odd, huh?” I would go on to ask myself, a question I would ask over and over again, many times in the near future. Just as I was about to ask one of the inmates a question, one of the guard ponies showed up and let me go. He called me “Dusty” and gave me back the letter. “Rusty,” I corrected him, before leaving. Unfortunately they made me take the prison jumpsuit too because “they have anti-streaking laws” and “I could scar children.” It was like the opposite of what happened after getting kicked from the pack, tearing off my collar. I hated both those places.

Stepping outside was like stepping into one of those post-apocalyptic stories, y’know the ones. The ones with horribly mutated creatures and ponies with computers on their arms, those ones. Rubble and filth were everywhere and everything that wasn’t a pony looked filthy and miserable. Especially the plants. I liked it there, it reminded me of the cave I was raised in. Random hairless things would run up to you with knives and bats to get into a fight! It was like heaven! I could beat up things and not get in trouble! I’d even get prizes for it! Not sure what the green paper’s supposed to do, but it looked nice and didn’t weigh much, so why not?

After a lot more brawls and piles of green paper, I had stumbled onto the place I’d been looking for, or so I thought. It didn’t LOOK like a school. The place was, like every other building, dilapidated. In spite of this, there was still a bunch of those hairless things—”humans” I was later informed—wandering with arms full of various junk. Some were tearing off their clothes, bottles in their hands.

I attempted to approach some of them to ask a few questions, but wouldn’t you know it, some other guards tried to take me away. As they readied some more stun guns, I gave them the letter. Thankfully, they were willing to leave me be once they saw it. They were happy to lead me to an office and let me wait until another hairless diamond dog, I later saw that he was MUCH too big to be a human, named Dean showed up.

And so, I sat. An old woman sat at the desk and would hush me or give me a disapproving look every now and again. For example, I would get up, attempting to leave, and there’s that stare again. I really, really hated humans. After five minutes of glaring at her, a man in a tall blue suit showed up and greeted me.

“Dusty!” He started. I was about to correct him, but he kept talking. “Listen, I get that you’re new to humans and our culture, but you’re the guy who applied for the job. Clearly you're not afraid to stand up and teach us about your world!”

That last statement confused me. “I, excuse me?”

“Yes, our new Equestrian History teacher! Your room is 503 and your class starts in an hour! Now go out there and teach those kids!” He shoved me out of the office like that.

I was confused by the fast talking man. I... guess I’d gotten a job teaching? This was like a bad comedy. Now that I think about it, wasn’t there a movie about this? Regardless, I wasn’t sure what else to do, every time I stepped back in to explain the situation Dean was supposedly in an “important meeting” and I was just booted out. I tried to find the exit, hoping my scent would help me pull through this strange place, but between the flowers that were being put as decor, the deodorants of various students, and the janitor constantly wiping the floor with lemon scented junk I’d just kept being thrown off the trail.

Dejectedly, I entered and attempted to adjust myself. The orange jumpsuit had not attracted attention so far, oddly enough, but the color was beginning to hurt my eyes. Remembering the drunks outside, I swiped some shirts and pants from one of the largest ones, who’d thankfully passed out by the building. I pulled them on. They were a tight fit, obviously not designed with my species in mind, but better than nothing, I suppose.

With nothing else to do, I just sat and waited.

I began to daydream about how this would work out. I mean, assuming the students hadn’t seen their real teacher, I could do this for quite a while without being found out. I go to work for a long and winding time, teaching whatever the Tartarus I teach and—OK, this was a really stupid idea. Getting up, I attempted to go to the door, and leave while there was still time.

That’s when I realized that there wasn’t any time left as the students entered the room the moment I opened the door. I couldn’t run away. I cursed my small mind for thinking that this was bright idea. Carefully approaching the desk I cleared my throat and grabbed a little white rock from a tray.

“H-hello, class.” I began, writing my name on the board. “I am Mister...” Of course, I’d forgotten to memorize the last name... did ponies even have last names? “Mister Rusty.” I finished, trying to make my R look as much like a D as I possibly could. “I am here to teach you Equestrian History, as I am sure you already know.”

An arm shot up nigh-instantly. “Yes?”

“What does a Diamond Dog know about Equestrian History?”

“Detention!” I shouted, not wishing to deal with a good question. “I did not study years in an Academy to deal with racists like you!” I was rather glad that angry shouting worked here more effectively than it did back in the pack.

The room fell silent as I adjusted myself. “Now, where were we? Right. I am Mister Rusty, and I will be teaching you Equestrian History. Since this is the first day...” I tried to think of something that would let me bluff it. “I will let you read the textbook and find things you find interesting, write them down on pieces of paper and put them on my desk for recommendations.” Yes, that’d be perfect. “I may not be able to get them all in but I will certainly try, trust me.” I smiled, I was truly a genius.

At the end of class there were piles upon piles of papers lying on the desk. I was tempted to leave but it would be rude to just leave this pile of work for some poor sap, right?

Morning came, and I’d properly sorted out the work, created my first homework and reading assignment, as well as sorted out what chapters to do first. It had taken all night but I’d done it. Looking at the clock, I realized it was almost time for the morning class to start, picking myself up and leaving to the cafeteria—One place my nose was actually able to find—I thought as long as I was here I may as well put in another day’s work.

Days became weeks of this, weeks became months, and soon they became years as I worked my way in a field that I’d never studied. I’d spend every night studying and restudying the subjects I would teach to the students the next day. I worried, as time went on and, emigrating ponies had become more common, that eventually somepony would come forward and say that they’d met the real Dusty from Equestria at reunions and what-such, but no. The illusion had become the reality to them, that this Diamond Dog was their teacher, their tutor, their friend.

As they say though, all good things must come to an end; and that day came at the 107th Annual Teaching Awards, where I’d been elected. Well, not I myself, but Mister Dusty. The fact I’d essentially become him, despite never graduating from any college was good and fine. Until I got there and learned that, unlike the school I’d been hired at, they actually did background checks.

Turns out the real Mister Dusty died in a train crash on his way from Equestria while on vacation. The reason they’d not realized I WASN’T him was because the man who’d done the interview had moved to some bureau in New York. Needless to say, when they expected somepony to accept an award for him posthumously and instead got this hulking mass of muscle claiming to BE the dead stallion... it was not pretty.

Prison isn’t all that bad this time around. I’ve written a more detailed book on how I did it, and all the close calls I’d had. I made appearances on TV shows and interviews in magazines, I got a couple of movies made about me too... so I guess it’s actually pretty good. Tartarus, they let me write this after all, so I bet I’ll get parole in a few years and... maybe go back to teaching?