Deep within the Everfree Forest, a clamor breaks the still air. The animals within the forest tend to be predators, so raucous sounds do occur, but this particular disturbance was not at all similar to a timberwolf or manticore growling or catching prey. However, that is not to say that it was an unknown noise. In fact, it had been heard at least 5 times that week. Considering that it was Monday, it’s fair to say that it happened often, indeed.
“This is terrible!” came the cry, soon to be followed by what could be generously called...complaining. Its origin is quickly located as coming from the Gratis River that runs through the forest. More specifically, from the sea serpent who resided between its banks: Steven Magnet.
“I have been having the worst type of day. First, all of my special waterproof pomade runs out, leaving me to fend with lesser styling gels for my moustache. It’s almost criminal! Then, my manicurist cancels my appointment. What happens if my claws chip? What will I do? Oh, I suppose I can’t blame the poor darling. She had a family emergency, after all. I hope that she does gets that gum removed from her tyke’s tail. Still, as horrendous as all of that seems, there is still one more event that, even now, gives me the heebie jeebies down my scales every time I recall it. Such horror should never be visited upon anyone, no matter how cruel they themselves are.” Sniffles began to sound as the purple serpent scrunched up his face in a paroxysm of despair. “I ran out of toilet paperherher.” Great tears began falling from his eyes as he sobbed the last word.
His audience, a beaver sitting along the far bank of the river showed signs of his own anguish, burying his head in his paws. He looked up as the wailing serpent unleashed his latest eye-duct downpour and began chittering away in a distinctly unsympathetic manner before turning back towards the forest, where he began gnawing a tree.
“How rude!” claimed Steven appalled at the beaver’s coarse language. The responding gesture from the buck-toothed critter did little to soothe his umbridge.
“Fine! If you’re going to be that way, then I’m leaving! And see if I come back! Humph.” Steven moved to the shore, his long body rhythmically coiling and uncoiling as he stormed off in a huff. The beaver casually dismissed him with an offhanded wave. As Steven passed from sight, the beaver sighed in relief, as now he seemed able to get his work done in peace. All was calm...Of course, this is when Steven realized he had left his purse handbag behind and needed to go back for it.
The resounding thwack of the beaver’s facepaw should have startled the surrounding wildlife for an instant, but like ponies living around a highway, they dismissed it as a background noise. At this point, it was common enough to the area.
Steven undulated around the forest, his scales dulled, his moustache drooping, and his claws ever so slightly rough around the edges. His frustration was leading him to drastic action. Now if only he could figure out what drastic action was, he’d be set, and he could return to his watery home. Until then, he would just have to miss watching his reruns of Equestrian Idol. He may have loved being able to pick out who the winner would be, and he may have a 100% accuracy rate for each rerun he watched, but when his mood was this foul, he could only think of one thing to cheer him up.
“I’m going shopping!”
pgbrk
Where would the best shopping be? Why, Canterlot of course! The seat of fashion, the designer everything, the crem de la crem of anything Equestrian society has produced. It was not just a better place to go shopping, it had nearly become the act of shopping itself. The lavender leviathan left his cramped train car and stretched in the brisk but still moderately warm mountain air. It was so kind, he felt, for all of the ponies who had been riding in the car before he had boarded the Friendship Express, to leave the compartment to him. He would have baked them each a basket of seaweed cookies as a token of his gratitude, but once the train had pulled up to the station, they had disembarked so quickly that he wasn’t even able to get their contact information. Steven supposed that was the downside of living at the cutting edge of society, always being in a rush. He checked to make sure he had everything with him, and left the station.
Now, as lucrative as working from home, in a river, in the midst of a spooky forest might be, Steven’s purse handbag did not hold unlimited bits. He had a budget and first on his list of shopping were his essentials. It was even more important to watch his spending here, because Canterlot’s prices were a bit of a gouge. Name brands don’t come cheap, and the comparatively large wealth of the residents ensured that business owners would charge as much as they felt they could get away with. It was also a good way to take measure of the social pecking order. The Canterlot mares regularly meet up to compare the price tags of their new handbags purses, one of a kind paintings, or what-have-you and the one with the largest expenditure gets to stick her nose ever so slightly higher than her friends. That is, until one of those friends manages to find something suitably gaudy enough to trump it.
2875 bits later, Steven was quite proud of himself. He had only bought 2 of the new hand cremes, and the stylist had done wonders for both his appearance and his mood. He was sure to leave her a generous tip, because she seemed so nervous working with his hair and nails. She must have been frightened by his unkempt appearance, because her eyes went wide, and she started trembling the moment he entered. It was a good thing that walk-ins were welcome at that salon. He hated to think how horrifying it would be if he had to prolong the exposure of his poorly styled coiffure while he waited for an appointment. Also, he took pity on the poor stylist. She may not have been the best groomer Steven had ever used, but with the way that other ponies fled from the salon when he slithered in, he figured that she must have a poor reputation. The extra bits should keep her on her hooves a while longer, the poor dear.
As he settled into the ritual known as window shopping, Steven noticed a building without the requisite panes. Intrigued by the incongruous nature of the building among the shopping heavy district he was in, Steven decided to investigate. A small sign on the door explained that it was a newly built theatre, and the Equestrian Queen Beauty Pageant was to be held today. A long time fan of such events, he decided to enter and purvey. More shopping could be done later.
Slithering in through the doorway, Steven could make out some of what was being said within the theatre. It seemed that the pageant was just starting, and he hadn’t missed more than a few opening remarks from the contestants. Now the judgement panel was to make their starting statements. Steven’s stature made fitting into the theatre difficult. As he traversed the hallway to reach the audience seating area, he was smacked in the face with a large draping red curtain, which cut off his vision. Fortunately his hearing was unaffected as he flailed around, trying to extricate himself from the velvet trap he had become stuck in. He was able to hear the voice of the celebrity judge Hoity Toity as he spoke to the competitors.
“I know you all are aware that this award is the highest honor that a mare can receive in the field. I know you have each worked your way up through the ranks of the elite to stand here today. I also know that only one can leave here today with both the title of Equestria Queen and the special prize. This year, the prize has been generously donated by Mr. Plumber Crack. It’s a free installation at your place of residence, symbolised with this solid gold miniature toilet bowl. What else would be good for the Queen, but a throne?” The audience began to politely stamp their hooves in applause
”As I eliminate you one by one, please exit the stage graciously. The last one remaining on that stage will be crowned by me, personally,” Hoity said. Another measure of dignified applause followed his comments.
.
”Of course, I will be very cross if our stagehoof were to come back on at this point. I wouldn’t want to crown him instead.” His joke was met by titters and chuckles, and one surly grunt from the aforementioned helper. The mirth was quickly suppressed, as Canterlot ponies believe it to be rude to laugh too much, even at a menial laborer. An anticipatory tension settled over the crowd. All attention was focused on the stage, and each of the 6 mares who were competing. Of course, that was when the fabulous Steven Magnet managed to burst through the curtains that had him tangled within, purse handbag nestled on the crook of an arm.
It should be known that, despite being seated already, every mare in the audience fainted upon a different lavish couch, most of which still had the price tags attached for some reason. Meanwhile, the stage was quickly vacated by anypony on or near it, and anypony near the exit evacuated the theatre entirely. Soon, only 3 males remained in the theatre.
The first, with eyes so wide that the expensive pair of Neigh-bans he was wearing looked like a small pair of pince nez, surveyed the chaos around him. As Hoity Toity glanced around, his gaze came to the other pony In the adrenal rush the situation provided, Hoity noticed the look on the stallion’s face before properly identifying him. Surprisingly, unlike the rest of the faces he had watched leave the theatre, it wasn’t afraid or aggressive, but instead gleeful. An almost beaming smile shone from that face. Slowly, Hoity’s view expanded, giving him the chance to identify the fellow. Standing there, grinning ear to ear was the stagehoof that had been helping with the pageant.
What happened next, Hoity was known to mention in later years, was both the single worst moment in his entire life and the defining moment of his career.
The stagehoof said two words. Hoity began to cry. So too, did Steven, but for another reason. If any of the mares of Canterlot had awoken, they would have promptly fainted again. Those words resounded in the small theatre, each echo a physical blow to the esteemed Mr. Toity, as the stagehoof’s Baltimare accent met his ears again and again.
“The winnah!”
Epilogue
Deep within the Everfree Forest a clamor breaks the still air.Somewhere nearby a beaver bashes his head into a log he had been carrying. It is the familiar noise: The high pitched keening of Steven Magnet. However, something is different. The tone of the wailing this time is somehow more regal than before. What royal message does the recently crowned serpent cry forth?
“Woe is me! I went shopping in Canterlot, and I forgot to buy more toilet paper!”
Author's Note
Thanks go to the SALT group for the edits. Aquillo and Blazewing both did an awesome job.
