Babs and the Blanks of Manehattan

by WeirdBeard

Rating: everyone
Tags: Original Character, Comedy, Random, Adventure, Babs Seed, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 3312

After her visit to Ponyville, Babs Seed sets out on a quest to start her own branch of Cutie Mark Crusaders in Manehatten. (Co-written with TimeForSP, master of the P)

After her visit to Ponyville, Babs Seed sets out on a quest to start her own branch of Cutie Mark Crusaders in Manehatten. (Co-written with TimeForSP, master of the P)

Published 2013-01-10 05:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-08 02:49:17 UTC

Chapter 1: Go forth!

Chapter 1: Go forth!
by WeirdBeard and TimeForSP

The train came to a screeching halt as it pulled into the station, awaking the napping Babs Seed. She yawned loudly as she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position and gazed out the window of her carriage. The bustling city of Manehattan was bathed in a soft evening glow. Ponies trotted about the station hub, completely engrossed in their own tasks.

Babs inhaled lightly and, with a huff, blew the bit of her mane that enveloped her vision aside. Fellow travelers were already retrieving their luggage from the train’s overhead compartments around the orange filly, minding their own business; resulting in many mis-hoofsteps and collisions that convinced Babs to remain seated. The ponies would clear out soon enough, and she was not in a big hurry.

When her car was bereft of anypony but herself, the young filly hopped off the seat to retrieved her tiny suitcase. Babs found said object tucked neatly under her seat. Biting gently on the handle, she carried it down the aisle and off the train. Her mind was swimming with memories of her adventure in Ponyville. The adventure may not have had the greatest of beginnings, but befriending her cousin as well as her friends was just what Babs needed.

The hoofmade cape tied around her body caught her attention, inciting a smile. Babs had promised her Ponyvillian cousin that she would launch her own Crusaders branch in Manehatten and by Celestia she would! Babs was a filly on a mission and nothing was going to stop...

“Lady Babs Seed!” an older, refined voice called out. The small filly’s train of thought suddenly crashed into a mountain in The Frozen North as her name was called. From the crowd of milling ponies, a tall and elderly unicorn stallion approached Babs. He wore a fine-fitted white vest and tie and sported a clean-cut white mane that complimented his black coat. The buck cleared his throat and continued. “Do you have your belongings?”

Babs nodded. “Yes, Mister Byttler,” the filly replied. She bowed her head down to retrieve her suitcase, but a loud cough from the stallion stopped her.

“Hark, I will get that, Lady Seed,” Byttler stated. The butler’s horn emanated a faint white which in unison encompassed the luggage and floated it to himself. “Pip pip, your carriage is waiting.”

Without another word, the stallion turned away from the filly and trotted towards the exit of the station. Babs hurried to follow Bytller, knowing full well that he would not halt for her. The Crusader had hoped that he would have at least commented about her new cape, but it seemed to be wishful thinking. They never payed attention anyway.

The pair soon escaped past the onslaught of crowds and approached the waiting carriage. Byttler had somehow managed to park the carriage in two spots in one of the most densely crowded areas of the city, most likely bribing a few tow carriages to remove some unlucky ponies' mode of transport. A few ponies idled around the transport, admiring the fine detailing and general exquisiteness in the most eloquent of manners. “Dayum gurl, dis ride is HAWT. Prob’ly rolls fiddy hoes liek nuffin!” a white earth pony wearing heavy chains stated.

Byttler’s jaw dropped at the sight of the obviously sophisticated critics, his brows furrowing in intense anger. “COMMONERS! Away with you, you filthy inbreds!” the butler shouted, dropping Babs’ suitcase and, from his saddlebags, levitated out a two hoof broadsword.

The crowd of ponies immediately scattered when the enraged unicorn galloped towards them. “Oh crud, rich pony! Scatter!” cried a smaller, peculiar-looking pegasus. She launched herself skywards, just barely out of the butler’s range.

“Indeed! Fly away to your miserable cesspools of refuse!” Byttler yelled. He swung his sword menacingly at a nearby trash can. Fortunately or unfortunately, the older butler’s vision wasn’t quite what it used to be. “I shall geld you into-!”

“Mister Byttler, they’re gone,” Babs calmly interrupted.

“Nay, little one. I have one ruffian cornered!” The black pony pressed forward and, with a quick thrust, stabbed his sword into the trash bin, scattering its contents across the sidewalk, “Alas! Our victory has been secured, young lady!”

“Thanks...”

“I need no thanks, Lady Babs. Now come, let us saunter over to our sweet-bosom ride”

“-and that was when I knew I was destined to be a member of the Royal Guard,” Byttler explained. Even after the 1321th time (Babs had counted), the butler never got sick of recalling his story over and over and over (and over) again.

The carriage ride to Bab’s apartment had been remarkably uneventful. She had kept to herself, as always, and awaited her return to her room and hopefully see her sister. In her room, she could scheme for ideas for the Manehatten Cutie Mark Crusaders branch.

Her mind raced with thoughts of her upcoming adventures with the other blank-flanks of Manehatten, wherever they were. However, her train of thought once again crashed into a mountain in The Frozen North, this time bursting into fire, as they trotted into the lobby of their luxurious building. The Ritzy Suites was a rather elegant structure filled to the brim with expensive decor and crystal glass. Though, none of this is what caught Babs’ attention.

Near the elevator doors, a duo of well dressed fillies were badgering a large, portly, blue unicorn foal. He cowered under his burly forehooves as they continued mocking him. Babs could hear a badly stifled sniffle coming from the young colt.

“Hey, McChunkers! Have you been given a zip code yet? I’m, like, totally surprised that you manage to walk without causing an earthquake!” the first filly insulted. Her mane resembled very closely to a giant bee-hive with the exception of being colored green. Babs recognized the bully instantly, Jersey Hooves. The filly’s coat was off-white, but one could barely tell with the disgusting amounts of make-up.

The other filly, a unicorn whom Babs recognized as McFancy Trousers, added her own comment, “Ha! I bet his mom can only buy him four hoofPads!” the duo chortled in unison.

Byttler trotted on past the scene without a second glance, while Babs continued to witness the bullying.

‘Maybe if I join in they’ll leave me alone. It would be so easy, I could just...‘

No.

She remembered what she had put her friends through. She would be strong. Strong... like her sister. The filly marched towards the pair of bullies, ready to give them her all.

“Oh hi, blank-flank!” Jersey called. The bully smirked at the approaching earth pony, chuckling at the prospect of another victim to ridicule. “Did Ponyville kick you out for being so stupid?”

Babs simply smiled knowingly at the unicorn filly. “Now now, Jersey, I wouldn’t be saying things like that if I were you.”

The two bullies exchanged confused glances, but after a moment began laughing. “And why shouldn’t we?” McFancy inquired.

“Because,” Babs stated, pausing to add, “I would tell ya parents about yas’ nasty behavia’.”

Of all the comebacks in existence, the bullies had not expected this one in the slightest. The mere threat shutdown all coherent thinking they possessed and incited fits of insane babbling. “Y-y-you’re just saying that!” Jersey managed to reply.

“What was that, Christopher Trotten? Ya seem a bit scared.” The filly started to trot toward the building’s elevator “... and I guess ya should be; I’m going to ya motha’s right now. Mister Byttler, take us to da third floor.” she finished as she entered the doors to the elevator.

“Certainly, Lady Babs.” the butler replied respectfully. Just as he was about to press one of the multitudes of buttons in the large contraption.

“NO! Wait! Don’t go! They’ll take away one of our ten fancyphones for like two hours!” McFancy whined in distress. “We’ll do anything!”

Babs smirked at the two bullies. ‘Oh how the mighty have fallen,’ she thought. Now you two’s are gonna stop pickin’ on both myself and this colt oveh’ hia’, and treat us wit respect from now on, capiche?”

Both Jersey and McFancy nodded quickly in confirmation. “Y-y-you got it, Babs,” they replied in unison, before dashing out the front entrance.

“Well done, Lady Babs, I dare say those charlatans shan’t be troubling you henceforth.” Byttler nodded his head, glancing back to the open elevator. “It reminds me of my days of youth in the Royal Guard. Have I ever told you that tale, Lady Babs?”

The earth pony filly paused at his question. She had succeeded, but the unicorn she had helped was still sobbing. “I’ll be there in’a sec, Mistah Byttler,” Babs eventually responded. Her gaze remained on the rescuee, pondering on how to reassure him.

The butler shrugged, but complied with her excuse. “Very well, Lady Babs, but do not dilly-dally.”

Babs trotted slowly closer to the unicorn while Byttler departed for their home upstairs. Her mind still raced with what to say, but she now had a chance to fully look at who the bullies were teasing. Very akin to the nickname given earlier, the unicorn was slightly on the large side. By large side, meaning bigger than a dozen swallows carrying coconuts (african, not european). His blue-shaded coat and white mushroom-cut mane shuddered from his heaving breaths. ‘Poor fella’, hasn’t’ even recoverad’ yet. That haircut, the double fanny packs, and oh HELLO THER’!’ the filly’s thought process abruptly sidetracked when she saw a similarity between herself and the unicorn.

The foal had no cutie mark.

“Hey! Ya don’t hav’a cutie mark! That’s great! I mean, not exactly, but it’s good because I don’t have one either!” Babs exclaimed. Her quick reverie seemed to also jostle the unicorn from his introvert state and gather his attention. The rust-orange colored filly took in a breath and smiled before continuing. “My name’s Babs, what’s your’s?”

“Gie oere gie teve 't hangt pap an je schreve.” the foal replied. The unicorn’s eyes--now without of any signs of tears--were magnified by a pair of glasses that completely covered his face, “Je hebt een muil om stront op te sorteren.”

Without another word he raised a hoof and patted Babs’ mane. Not a word was said as his hoof remained atop her head. Never before have so many awkward turtles flooded an instance such as this. "Uhhhh... so I guess ya’ wou-," the filly was interrupted by a loud gurgling noise coming from somewhere deep inside the colt.

The unicorn maintained his stare and kept his hoof atop her mane. The awkward turtles had begun to make there way into a teenager’s room.

“Ya know, I’d love ta stay an’ chat, but I’d ratha’ not be in the papas’ tomorra’.” Babs excused herself, backing away slowly from the large foal; still holding his hoof where her mane had been. She couldn’t break eye contact with him in sheer fear that something horrific would happen if she did so. Thankfully for her, Byttler was waiting in the elevator and pulled her in before the colt could assault her mane any more.

Shortly after the butler pressed the appropriate button (after missing fourteen times), the elevator started upwards towards her destination.

That memory was banished, however, as the doors opened up to her floor. With nothing else holding her back, she trotted across the posh hallway and entered the apartment door which Byttler stood beside. The butler simply held his head high, nose aloft in an air of dapper. “Welcome home, Lady Babs,” he stated.

The filly nodded and continued inside. “Motha? Fatha? Sis? Anypony home?” Babs called aloud.

“Was that the wind, honey?” an uptight, cross stallion’s voice asked from the next room.

A loud, drawn-out higher-pitched sigh answered the query. “No, that was just the sound of all our hopes and dreams dying.”

“I had a great time this week! Ponyville was great and I had a lot of fun with Applebloom and her friends. They even made me a Cutie Mark Crusader!” Babs exclaimed, oblivious to her parents’ woe. She trotted into the living room, finding the ponies responsible for bringing her into this world. The stork helped, but that’s another story.

Mrs. Seed leaned her head back into the couch she sat upon and groaned. “Not now, Biscuit, Mommie’s got a headache.”

Bab’s father melodramatically put a hoof over his forehead, “Poppa’s got one, too. Now be a good little foal and go to your room,” Mr. Seed commanded flatly.

“Is sis’ home?”

“Room. Now.” Her father ordered.

The disappointment of not being able to see her sister did bug her. However, she was much too preoccupied with thoughts about the future of a Crusaders branch in Manehattan. She thought of her standing next to a strong, intelligent unicorn filly and a devilishly luxurious, handsome pegasus colt. The merry filly practically skipped past her parents, onward to her room. There were capes to be made! Songs to be sung! Adventures to-!

‘Sweet Celestia, somepony’s in my room!’ Babs’ train of thought was reformed from the wreckage and launched along with the mountain it crashed into by a giant polar bear into The Orion Nebula. Sure enough, her bedroom door was slightly ajar and she could hear the telltale sounds of items being moved. She shoved the door open further in hopes of getting the jump on the intruder. “Alright you, stop right ther-”

“Vifil yor er iz gegangn oyf di fis zol er geyn af di hent un di iberike zol er zikh sharn oyf di hintn.” Babs ended up staring straight into the face of the colt from before.

Babs blinked wildly. Her room was now not even close to how she last left it. Instead, everything was methodically organized into straight lines or insanely intricate patterns. “Bu, wuh...buh, huh?” she managed to utter.

“I faxed your rum, reetridder.”

Chapter 2: (We're sorry)

Chapter 2:

Previously on: Battlestar Galactica.

“Doctor House! He has ten fractured ribs, fourteen spelunked kidneys, and a brain tremor of 9.3 on the richter scale!”

“Give me IT!”

“He’s dead. He died of death.”

“Sir, if we were to say we replaced your head with a turnip, do you think your insurance company could buy us a car.”

(And now, back to our regularly scheduled program.)

“... And so da deep da herp da derp und dep da hep da dep,” the pudgy foal finished
raising hooves to add emphasis to his heroic tale.

The young filly’s room was a disaster of epic proportions. All the books were put away neatly in her wittle draws, her toys were in their respective labeled bins, her clothes were ironed, pressed and stacked eloquently in her wooden drawers. None of the objects were in their proper spots. You know; on the floor, under the bed, or on the cat. The victim of this atrocity and the evildoer sat on the filly’s bed--which was NOT covered with a potpourri of items no thanks to that devil of a colt. The former laying on her hooves in a sloppy fashion and the later squatting on a neat white cloth--devoid of stains or other things that could hint at the pony not being a robot.

Babs stared skeptically at her uninvited guest. The part about skating out of a burning building made out of mercury was believable, but fashioning a fanny pack to fly down to safety? Now that’s just plain crazy without proper swimwear. All in all she thought the plot should have been more drawn out. And the authors should stop getting sidetracked with useless filler that takes up the readers’ time. But I just started the last two sentences with conjunctions, so I think you already know the quality of this story. “I just asked what your name was... ” the rust-colored filly uttered.

The unicorn foal stared at her blankly before finally beating his chest and pointing toward himself. “Me Orderly Borderly. You Jane,” he deadpanned, poking a hoof at Babs’ side.

“Ohhhhh. Then why didn’t you just say so?” Babs inquired, tilting her head slightly.

Orderly shook his head, floating off the bed to examine his hoofwork in the room. “As I was antecedently endeavoring to parlay in our aforementioned conversation, I do presume my intellect is immeasurable for an elementary muggle like you to fathom; I am profoundly keen to employing your fine services, madam,” the portly unicorn explained.

Monocles everywhere dropped. “...addur,” Babs--now plastered against the wall from the shear force of that statement--managed to utter. Let’s face it, that was all sorts of fancy. You might as well give up reading now.

The highly sophisticated intruder rolled his eyes. “Fine. Allow me to convey this to you in a more simplistic manner. You see-”

“RUFFIAN SENSES TINGLING! DETECTING HOSTILE PRESENCE WITHIN THE VICINITY OF LADY BABS SEED!” Byttler shouted from beyond the door. Immediately following the outburst, the door exploded into pieces of wooden shrapnel; reverting Babs’ room to its original state and shattering her window with an outward force that of a bear. “I MUST PURGE THIS DWELLING!”

Before the pair could even blink, the elder-turned-warmachine butler stampeded into the room. His eyes seemed to radiate with a unnatural fire that burned with the power of a thousand suns. Without further explanation, he used his magic to lift Orderly into the air.

Surprisingly though, the pudgy foal seemed to keep his composure. “Vifil yor er iz gegangn oyf di fis zol er geyn af di hent un di iberike zol er zikh sharn oyf di hintn,” he responded calmly.

“THE LANGUAGE OF THE PICKLES! BE GONE, SATAN!” Byttler explained, promptly hurling Orderly out of the newly-broken window. It was an impressive throw to say the least, daresay matching with the caliber of professional hoofballer Neighton Manning. Babs could only watch the scene in petrified confusion, as this new acquaintance was suddenly ejected by her family’s butler.

However, it would seem that Orderly had a date planned with destiny rather than falling to a painful death. Just when gravity was starting to take its’ toll upon the foal, he unbuckled the large fanny packs around his barrel. To both Babs and Byttler’s surprise, he somehow twisted the two bulging bags into a makeshift parachute, catching adrift on a light breeze.

“I shall be contacting you in the near future, Babs. Adieu!” the pudgy colt shouted, slowly gliding away with his fanny packs.

Babs and Byttler stood rooted for several minutes, not even sure how to process what had just transpired. Finally, the butler shook his head and trotted away, muttering, “Last time I’ll ever drink that scotch.”

As the elderly stallion exited the room, a much younger, but teenaged mare stopped by the doorway. “Hey, Byttler!” she excitedly called out. When the butler didn’t respond and continued by, the mare shrugged. “Bye, Byttler.”

“Orange Burst!” Babs exclaimed in joy. The ecstatic filly bounded across the room in nary a blink of an eye.

Orange bursted and everyone died.

Fin.

Author's Note

Well, we (TimeForSP and I) had been writing this back when we posted the first chapter. We didn't have much beyond these ideas:
TROMBONES
DIDNEY LAN
HOMOSECUAL
Orderly gets thrown out by Byttler
Literally thrown out of window
Orderly uses fanny packs
Byttler announces that her sister hath ariven’.
Introduce Babs’ sister (CHARACTER DESIGN DANGIT!)
Taller earth pony (bowling pony design-esque, frckls, talented, more recognition than Babs, super smrt, ORANGE BURST, two tone tangerine mane,
cussion is had!- FRYENDS POLAR BEARS AND GOATS
Babs meets another blank, perching at her window (Grotto)
Grotto snags a lampshade
GLORS IN DER DERK
‘Take a seat’ to catch a prehdahter
“STRANGE THINGS ARE AFOOT TROMBONE!”
CINNAMON

^ Yeah, those are seriously are notes from that. However! We shall write something else eventually. Yeehaw.